#AND she was forced to do it by her own father!!!

[bruhstories]

Bet II

p.1 here & p.3 here

summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k

a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.

You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.

Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.

You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor. 

It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.

Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho 

A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.

Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.

You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.

Ding!

Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge. 

Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.

"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.

As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor. 

"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."

There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.

Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.

As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang. 

Kitchen and dining room done!

You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.

"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"

The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day. 

At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered. 

You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo. 

Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me. 

When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.

Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.

Ding!

Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.

Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm. 

I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.

You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.

"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?" 

Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.

When was the last time you watered the cactus?

Ding!

You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.

I don't remember. 

Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant. 

Ding!

Another text? You took your phone out and read it.

Why would your uncle be upset?

The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.

He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.

Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?

You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age.  You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom. 

Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you. 

Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair

i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo

[dindjarindiaries]

Hunter was trying to be a good older brother to Crosshair and a good father to Omega in The Return, despite a few moments of weakness, through protectiveness, observation, and supportiveness. He ultimately succeeded in his objectives.

The Bad Batch S3E5 "The Return" will always be one of my favorites because it doesn't shy away from the complexity of the family's dynamic after 1) losing Tech, who was often a peacekeeper/mitigator, and 2) regaining Crosshair. While I, and many others, wish the former was explored more, it does an excellent job of showing us even more about these siblings' dynamics than we even knew before.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view this episode in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

The line of dialogue that most of my argument here hinges upon is from Hunter about midway through the episode, just before his and Crosshair's fight.

"I know you."

Going back to the very beginning of the episode, we see Hunter and Wrecker sitting and waiting for Omega to wake up. Crosshair's clearly not there, and when Omega asks about their brother's whereabouts, Wrecker says he wasn't there when they woke up, before Hunter adds this.

His face is clearly displaying concern, even though his words are reassuring. He's no doubt worried about Crosshair, too, but like he says later on: he knows Crosshair. He knows what to do when Crosshair's upset, and that the sniper wants/needs time alone, hence why he and Wrecker didn't go after him. Hunter is trying to reassure Omega, who isn't as familiar with Crosshair at this point, by insisting that this is how he adjusts to change. It's important to note that there doesn't really seem to be any hostility radiating from Hunter (or Wrecker) towards Crosshair here.

In fact, the duo only gets up and goes to check on Crosshair once Omega's involved. This proves something else that's important to understand for Hunter's character in this episode: he's wrestling with both his concern for Crosshair and his protectiveness over Omega, and that's because of this moment from season 1:

Because of Crosshair telling Hunter in S1E15 that he had his inhibitor chip removed, without the context of when, Hunter has to assume for Omega's safety that this was Crosshair acting of his own accord. This is because, if Hunter's to be a reliable protector of her, he always has to be as cautious as possible with those she's surrounded by—and unfortunately, in this case, that includes Crosshair.

(Remember that, even as the sergeant of Clone Force 99 and the eldest brother/caretaker of their family, Hunter's priorities have shifted since the war ended; Omega now comes before all else. He says this as early as S1E7 to Rex, when they had only had Omega for a short time. This is now at least a year after those events, which means that sentiment's only grown stronger for Hunter, especially after losing Omega to the Empire for six months.)

Because Crosshair is smart and also knows his brothers just like they know him, he comes to this conclusion himself. This is why he's not surprised when they start watching him and Omega from a distance, and why Crosshair insists it's because "They don't trust me."

Then, Echo arrives, and they start making plans to go to Barton IV. This is where we see Hunter's protectiveness of Omega really shining, along with some interesting glimpses of Hunter's concern/curiosity about Crosshair and what he went through.

The fact that Omega and Hunter have the same expression here... that's intentional. Omega is but a mirror of her brothers, and always has been ever since she met them. She and Hunter are literally displaying the same amount of sympathy and concern for Crosshair here.

Now, this look from Hunter that's immediately after Crosshair's done talking is read as anger from a lot of people, which is understandable. To me, though, especially through this lens, it looks more like Hunter is coming to a conclusion. Hunter can tell that Crosshair knows more (and has gone through more) than he's letting on about, but he doesn't care that much about getting the intel that Echo no doubt wants. Hunter just doesn't like the fact that Crosshair won't open up about what happened to him.

It's important to keep in mind that as Hunter and Wrecker were watching Omega and Crosshair before, they undoubtedly saw Crosshair's target practice going poorly. Hunter would certainly make note of that, and thinking of his physical struggles along with hearing this... well, yeah, Hunter's gonna have a serious pondering face, because he wants to know what's wrong with his youngest brother so he can help him. But because he knows his brother, he knows that he has to keep his space for now and be mindful.

Once plans for the trip to Barton IV come up, Hunter proposes that he goes with Crosshair and Echo, again proving that Hunter isn't really trying to avoid Crosshair. In fact, Hunter only expresses any concern when Omega wants to join, and we all know why. He's worried about her and doesn't want to risk it, which he says plainly.

It's clear, though, that Hunter is still worried about Crosshair being so close to Omega, too, especially if they're going to an Imperial hideout. Hunter has trauma from that moment in S1E8, and it's not easy for him to see past that, as much as he does still care and worry for his youngest brother. Again, he has to suspect that anyone is capable of hurting her, aside from the brothers who've been protecting her alongside himself the entire time.

Crosshair even acknowledges this when he and Hunter pass one another while packing up the night before.

(I'd like to note that, in this moment, Hunter's the one who moves to accommodate Crosshair's path. To me, that's more evidence of the fact that Hunter is keeping a safe distance from Crosshair to let him process, but because Omega's there too, he's also keeping a watchful eye on him. He's really torn between the two.)

"Don't hold it against him," Crosshair tells Omega. Why? Because:

Crosshair understands that most, if not all, of Hunter's moments of caution towards Crosshair have everything to do with Omega and her safety, rather than Hunter being angry at Crosshair. Hunter doesn't like that Omega's going on this risky mission, and he really doesn't like that it's happening with Crosshair there, when he hasn't even told Hunter everything that happened. How is he supposed to properly protect her (and Crosshair) without knowing all the details?

(And how sweet is it that Crosshair agrees with Hunter's take on Omega coming with them?)

They get to Barton IV, and there, we get one of Hunter's moments of weakness, when he's really giving in to his protectiveness of Omega and his frustration/worry about having such few details about Crosshair and his falling out with the Empire.

(But first, let's quickly acknowledge Crosshair emerging in his old armor, and the fact that Hunter, Wrecker, and the others kept it. Hunter (and Wrecker I believe) both lost pieces of their armor during their search for Omega, no doubt either losing them in dangerous situations or selling things to get by, but they never once touched Crosshair's kit—even when it would have been really easy to sell his things before selling their own.)

Because the base is empty, Hunter starts to worry that it's a sign of something bad. Remember, just because Hunter is the level-headed sergeant and leader of the group, he's not immune to trauma. Imagine how traumatizing Eriadu and all his failed attempts to find Omega with Wrecker were for him, especially with him literally being a tracker. The last time they were all together like this on a mission was when Tech died.

So, Hunter gives into that protective sense and challenges Crosshair, because now he needs the details. He has a sense that this place is notable to Crosshair, but not how, and if he wants to protect Omega, who is his main priority, he has to find out. He's also getting more and more frustrated that Crosshair won't talk to him about it.

This can be evidenced by one of their exchanges. It's only after Crosshair brings up his cell again that Hunter insists, "I get the feeling there's more to this place than you're saying." And... well, Hunter's right. This is a place of trauma for Crosshair, and Hunter's no doubt picking up on that. After being reminded of Crosshair's imprisonment, Hunter has to ask, he has to press, in his mind, for the wellbeing of Omega, Crosshair, and the rest of his squad.

Again, Hunter doesn't like operating off little information to accomplish all these things. He's a protector at heart, and he always has been. Crosshair not giving him all the details he can remember (likely because of his own trauma) makes Hunter feel even more on edge, and that's why he lashes out a bit more at his brother, questioning him about why he didn't mention the raiders before.

Unfortunately, with Crosshair deflecting to avoid his own hurt, Hunter takes the bait and engages, leading to their exchange of "Just following orders?" "If you're scared, why don't you wait on the ship?" Thankfully, Echo steps in and breaks it up, which gives Hunter time to clear his head again. This is Hunter's first biggest moment of weakness.

Now, we're getting to one of my favorite sequences: Hunter watching Crosshair from a distance inside the depot.

Hunter clocks Crosshair's discomfort right away after Echo says that Crosshair's words about the base serving its purpose "Sounds familiar." Again, it's easy to understand why people might read this as Hunter being angry or cautious, but to me, it looks like Hunter's just trying to get a read on why that particular exchange sent Crosshair away, and what exactly he's looking for.

Wanting to figure out more so that he can help Crosshair and thus help them all in this very moment, Hunter quietly follows Crosshair, and that's what leads to him seeing Crosshair pick up Mayday and the other regs' helmets.

(Hunter lurking in the back right. I'm obsessed with this shot.)

Remember, Hunter is observing this as someone who remembers Crosshair not wanting anything to do with the regs. He antagonized them perhaps the most out of any other in the squad during their arc in The Clone Wars, and he even told Hunter in S1E15 that the Batch was superior to the regs, and to most other soldiers in general. Hunter seeing Crosshair treat these reg helmets with such reverence is such a strong indication to him that something major has shifted for Crosshair, and it had likely happened on this planet.

But Hunter, again, knowing his brother, remains a quiet observer. It would've been easy for him to engage here, but he recognizes that Crosshair needs this moment to himself. Hunter even leaves him to it after. Would someone who really didn't trust Crosshair at all whatsoever turn their back to him like that? What he does is give his brother privacy, and acknowledge that he needs to know what happened... but this isn't the right place or time to be pressing him about it.

Danger is lurking, though, and Hunter's desperation to know the truth so he can be better equipped is growing. It hits a peak when Crosshair, prompted by Batcher's barking, checks the perimeter by himself. Pay close attention to how Hunter reacts to Crosshair's exit.

It isn't really anger in this expression. Wrecker's behind him is certainly one of concern. Hunter instead looks determined, and that's because he's about to pursue Crosshair to start getting answers. He's tired of not knowing, and because the stakes are starting to rise, and the evidence is all around him. Hunter decides that he's given enough space and now has to push Crosshair to talk to him.

Because, as Hunter's about to say in a few seconds, he knows Crosshair. He knows, and from what Echo says later, he's always known how to get Crosshair to talk, and it seems that it often involves some fighting and bloodshed—because Crosshair has a harder time opening up than his other brothers.

But Hunter will be damned if he doesn't try, especially now that Omega's safety could depend on this information.

Now, at last, we're at the pinnacle moment of the episode for these two characters: the fight, and another moment of weakness for Hunter. He reminds Crosshair that he knows him, and he demands this time to know what exactly happened here.

Hunter, because he knows his brother, has to push Crosshair (literally) to get anything out of him. He doesn't want this to be simple bickering like before. So, Hunter goes for a low blow. He knows that Crosshair values loyalty above all else, so he brings up Crosshair's disloyalty to both the Empire and their own squad, knowing it'll hurt him enough to get some real responses out of him.

Then comes the physical shove. This is a clear demand for Crosshair to start giving answers.

But look at how Hunter's expression changes as he waits for Crosshair to talk.

His brow softens, because Crosshair's hesitance to say or do something right away is evidence of the fact that it's something really, really serious that happened. At the end of the day, he's just worried for his brother. He wants to know, needs to know, so he can help him. It almost looks like he's pleading for an answer here.

And Crosshair does answer truthfully, revealing that he killed Lt. Nolan. Hunter is obviously shocked, and he even has a somewhat guilty reaction to Crosshair saying "after they betrayed me", because, I mean, we all know Hunter's been harboring guilt for leaving Crosshair behind.

That's when Crosshair digs his claws in to protect himself, too, also going for low blows against Hunter—starting with Hunter ignoring the warning Crosshair had sent from Tantiss.

(What's really telling to me here is that Hunter doesn't once defend himself when he easily could have. He could have told Crosshair that he was the only one who wanted to listen to Crosshair's warning, but that his and the rest of the squad's desire to try to save Crosshair ultimately won out. But he doesn't. He just takes it.)

Hunter only starts to get really angry when Crosshair gets Omega involved.

Hunter turned Crosshair's loyalty against him, so Crosshair turns Hunter's protectiveness against him. Imagine being a protector like Hunter, who's even more fiercely protective of Omega, and being told that after months of desperate, worried searching, you're the reason why the person you care the most about went through their worst bout of suffering.

Yeah, that stings. Especially because there's truth to it, the part about his jealousy towards Crosshair being the one to free her instead of himself. Hunter no doubt felt like he had failed as Omega's protector by losing her to the Empire, and not only that, but the brother he left behind had to be the one to bring her back to them.

(I also think that, in reading between the lines in this entire part of Crosshair's argument, he could even be insinuating that Hunter's shouldering the blame for Tech's death. If he knows the details, then he knows that ultimately, Hunter's the one who approved the mission. "You ignored it", in reference to Crosshair's message, could mean that both Tech and Omega could have been safe if Hunter had simply made the right call. It may not have been intentional on Crosshair's part, but I could easily see Hunter thinking that, especially if he already felt guilty about it.)

No wonder why these two are about to fist fight in the snow. Their ugliest, scariest monsters have finally come out.

And that's when the scary monster comes out, too.

(I love the symbolism!)

Hunter immediately snaps back into his protector mode. He warns Crosshair to move, but also physically shoves Crosshair out of the way and takes his previous place, making himself the one who's closest to the threat.

(Hunter does this a lot with his squad, by the way.)

They focus on getting to safety, and then figuring out a plan with the others to get the wyrm back outside the perimeter. This is when Hunter insists that they have to make sure the wyrm is drawn out that far so that they're not trapped inside with it, and Crosshair volunteers to take it on his own. But Hunter's not okay with that.

You would think that Hunter would want to be as far away from Crosshair as possible after what just transpired, but he doesn't. Instead, in this moment, Hunter is assuring Crosshair that he doesn't have to do things alone anymore, that they're brothers at the end of the day, and he wants to help. I think this is Hunter's first true attempt at making a truce with Crosshair, and attempting to extend his hand to him.

Of course, Crosshair snaps back asking Hunter if he's sure that's what he wants, and that leads to a moment of tension—but notice that, unlike the other times, Hunter doesn't retaliate. He understands with more clarity now why Crosshair's lashing out. Crosshair's hurting.

So, in teaming up with Crosshair here, Hunter knows he can mend what's most important to Crosshair by proving it with his actions: loyalty.

If anything, what Crosshair lashing out here and what Hunter going with him proves is that Crosshair's mostly hurt that he's lost the loyalty/trust of his brothers. When they get out there and Hunter's trapped underneath the ice, left to rely on his brother for guidance and rescue, it allows Crosshair to mend that sense of loyalty and trust. He can earn it back.

Not because Hunter necessarily needs him to do that, although it certainly is helpful, but because Hunter knows that Crosshair needs that. Crosshair needs to feel reliable to them again.

That's what's so perfect about Hunter's safety literally being in Crosshair's hands here. They're able to banter the way they likely would've during the war, and Hunter doesn't hesitate when Crosshair extends his rifle to pull him up and get him out of the hole in the ice.

Hunter gets proof that he can indeed trust Crosshair with his life again, and Crosshair gets that proof, too. Because, at the end of the day, they're just an eldest and youngest brother. Youngest siblings (I say as a youngest child myself) are often looking for validation and trust from their older siblings, especially the eldest. This display of trust must've been so, so validating and healing for Crosshair.

That brings us back to that first line of dialogue I highlighted: "I know you." Hunter knew Crosshair was hurting like this all along, and while he was struggling between his protectiveness over Omega and his concern for Crosshair, he was finally able to make his brother's journey to healing happen.

We then get the nods of mutual trust, understanding, apologies, and forgiveness, before they sit in peace together.

(This is one of my favorite shots in all of Star Wars. I mean, come on.)

I love how the shift in their dynamic is evident enough that everyone recognizes it once they get back. They hug it out with Wrecker, and then we shift into one of the most meaningful dialogue exchanges we'll ever get between them.

Now that Crosshair's laid more of his vulnerabilities out on the table, he seeks reassurance in Hunter. Again, youngest siblings so often just want to feel validated by their older siblings, especially the eldest. Crosshair's looked to Hunter to lead him and guide him his whole life. This is why the guilt's so evident when he comes clean about making mistakes with the Empire.

It would've been so easy for Hunter to say yeah, you did make mistakes, you did hurt us and many innocent people. Instead, Hunter says these simple few words that carry so much weight:

Hunter takes on that burden with Crosshair. He lets his own vulnerabilities show by saying, yeah, I'm with you there, there are things I wish I hadn't done, either. He then gives him reassurance and hope by saying that they can forge a new path forward, that they're not tied down by who they used to be, nor what bad decisions they made.

Hunter is putting them on the same level here, and for someone like Crosshair, who probably thought his brothers would never trust him nor accept him the way they used to because of what he's done, this means everything.

(I also feel like Crosshair really needed to hear the "I have regrets too" line from Hunter in particular. He needed a hint that Hunter really did regret leaving him behind, even if it was the best/safest option for the rest of the squad at the time. You can certainly still regret doing something, even if it was the best option at that time.)

In summary, The Return is about not just a return to Barton IV, but a return to who Clone Force 99 used to be. Crosshair's return to his squad, the return of their trust in him and vice versa. A return to the familiar.

Hunter didn't handle this perfectly, nor would anyone who was in his shoes with all these complicated relationships and trauma, but he did his best. Even while caught between his concern for Crosshair and his fierce protectiveness of Omega and the members of his family that he had left, Hunter still found a way to make things right. He completed both objectives.

For as much as Crosshair needed to have the trust of his family back, Hunter needed the reassurance that he could still keep his entire family safe on missions like these. He needed to know he could still take care of them, physically and emotionally.

And he succeeded.

[inky-writing]

Reunion

Eris Vanserra x reader

Warnings: blood, fear, torture, death, possible SA (not explicit)

Word count: 928

The scent of blood lingered in the air as Eris stood in the ruins of what had once been his father’s. Beron’s reign of terror had ended by his hand, but the weight of centuries spent under the High Lord’s reign was heavy on his chest.

Eris had no illusions that his life would be simple after this. He had spent decades gathering his strength, sharpening his mind, waiting for the moment when Beron would finally fall. And yet, standing here in the ashes, he felt no triumph, only exhaustion and something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: hope.

The dungeons were his next destination, a place he had always avoided out of necessity, not cowardice. Beron’s cruelty had extended far beyond his own family, and Eris knew that whatever lay behind those iron doors would haunt him for the rest of his days. But he needed to see it, to ensure no remnants of his father’s darkness remained.

Torchlight flickered against the cold stone walls as he descended the stairs. The air grew colder with each step, and the faint sound of breathing echoed through the silence. Prisoners. He hadn’t expected any to survive.

His steps faltered when he reached the last cell.

A figure sat curled in the corner, cloaked in shadow. Tangled hair hung limply around her face, her body draped in tattered fabric that barely qualified as clothing. Her breathing was shallow, and she flinched as the light from his torch fell on her.

“Who…” Eris’s voice caught, a tremor he hadn’t felt in centuries ripping through him.

No. It couldn’t be.

“Y/N?” he whispered, his knees nearly buckling as he stepped closer.

Her head shot up at the sound of his voice, but there was no recognition in her eyes. Only fear.

“Stay back!” she hissed, her voice hoarse from years not speaking. She scrambled further into the corner, her wrists bound with rusted chains that had rubbed her skin raw.

Eris froze, the torchlight illuminating her face. It was her. The mate he had thought he’d lost centuries ago. The mate he had mourned every day since the fire that had supposedly taken her from him.

He had dreamed of this moment, imagined it countless times in the long years since her death. But this? This was a nightmare.

“It’s me” he said softly, dropping to his knees just outside the cell. “It’s me, Eris”

Her eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a snarl. “Don’t lie to me. I know who you are, Beron”.

The name struck him like a blow, his breath hitching as he saw the way she recoiled, trembling. She didn’t recognize him. Worse, she thought he was his father.

Eris’s hands clenched into fists, the fire in his veins threatening to consume him. What had Beron done to her? What had he allowed to happen while he had been blind to her survival?

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking. “I’m not him. I swear to you, I’m not him”.

She didn’t respond, her gaze darting to the torch in his hand as though she expected him to strike her with it. The realization shattered what was left of his composure.

It took hours to convince her to let him enter the cell. Days to gain enough of her trust to touch her chains. And months, agonizing, endless months, to begin to repair what Beron had broken.

Eris had always thought of himself as a patient male, but this was something else entirely. He couldn’t rush her recovery, couldn’t force her to remember him or believe his words. All he could do was be there, to prove to her every day that he was not his father, that he would never hurt her.

At night, he sat by her bed in the forest house he had taken her to after her rescue, watching over her as she slept. Sometimes she would wake screaming, her eyes wild with terror, and he would hold her until her fear eased.

Other times, she would look at him with something other than fear, curiosity, perhaps, or even recognition. Those moments kept him going, even when his heart felt like it was breaking all over again.

It took her nearly two years before she finally said his name, her voice trembling but clear.

“Eris?”

He had turned to her so quickly he nearly knocked over the chair he was sitting in. “I’m here”, he said, his hands trembling as he reached for hers.

Her fingers brushed against his, tentative but deliberate, “I… I remember”. She was crying, but those weren’t tears of sadness, no, those were tears of Joy, “I remember you. You’re my mate, I can feel you Eris, I…”, she broke down once again, she couldn’t believe it.

Tears streamed down his face as he pulled her into his arms, holding her as though she might disappear if he let go. For the first time in centuries, he felt whole.

Their wedding was held six months after. It as a quiet affair, held under the light of the full moon in the heart of the forest. It was a new beginning, a chance to build a life together free from sorrow and fear.

Eris knew there would always be scars, on both of them. But as he stood in front of her, his mate, her hands in his and her smile brighter than the sun, he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

They had survived. Together, they would heal. And together, they would burn brighter than the radiant sun.

Tag list: @imma-too-many-fandoms

[bwat5-blog]

Quick Response To Some Fresh Lunacy

**Spoilers For Arcane**

So while I have only delved into the sheer bedlam that is the Arcane Critical tag once, every now and then one of those feisty little diesel drinkers makes it onto my feed and I am treated to something like this as reasons season 2 supposedly sucked (their phrasing was much more unpleasant):

1. The people of the Undercity died to save Piltover while wearing Enforcer uniforms despite Piltover doing nothing to earn it. 2. Silco was turned into a mouthpiece for forgiveness and letting go of the past despite being one of the only pro-zaun characters. 3. Jinx was redeemed by sympathizing with topsiders, forced to apologize for killing Caitlyn's mom and felt like she needed to die so Vi could run off with Caitlyn. 4. Vi didn't care about the grey and serviced Caitlyn in a prison cell where she was locked away by Enforcers as a kid. 5. Jayce acting like Viktor's illness that was caused by Piltover wasn't something that needed to be cured. 6. Ekko never calls out Heimerdinger for his failings, Vi for joining the Enforcers, and risks his people (the firelights) to help Piltover. 7. Sevika almost being cut completely, never reacting to Isha's death or interacting with Jinx in act 3 and risking her life to help Piltover which is way out of character.

Okay... breathe deep... it hurts.. I know it hurts. It hurt me as well to read such a strong concentration of felonious stupidity all in one place as well. But we must never falter. There are a lot of ways I could respond to this. And perhaps at some point I will go more in-depth. But the simple fact is nothing here requires a long, drawn out, point-by-point defense. Because I have seen the show. Which clearly gives me the upper hand here. So, I am going to give each of these the amount of attention they deserve.

The people of the Undercity died to save Piltover while wearing Enforcer uniforms despite Piltover doing nothing to earn it

Hey there. Remember him? Does it seem like once he pacified Piltover he was just gonna call it a day, get back in his gigantic astral hamster ball and fuck off back to the compound? No. His goal was the evolution of humanity. Not Piltover. Jayce spells this out clearly. "This isn't a fair request". But it is the truth. And regarding the uniforms. The average Undercity character is seen is some variety of leathers/cloth/wool whatever that usually is displaying a decent amount of skin. THE ENFORCERS WEAR ARMOR.

Silco was turned into a mouthpiece for forgiveness and letting go of the past despite being one of the only pro-zaun characters

Okay. I am going to make this is as simple as possible so you can follow along with me:

As we know, Silco is not there. Jinx is essentially working this out in her own mind through these hallucinations

Her status as Silco's daughter, being a symbol, his influence and shadow, it is all tying her to the past which as we know is filled to the brim with delicious sugary trauma.

Even though he was a monster, she views him as a father figure. And as much as it sucks to say probably more than Vander. She was so young when Vander died. She was with Silco during her real formative years. And I would bet she has pushed Vander away mentally to protect herself after everything that has occured. So while Vi sees Vander in the barfight when she wants to give up, Jinx sees Silco.

Silco is giving Jinx the permission Jinx realizes she has to give Vi to save both of them.

Jinx was redeemed by sympathizing with topsiders, forced to apologize for killing Caitlyn's mom and felt like she needed to die so Vi could run off with Caitlyn

Again. HUMANITY ENDING THREAT. Also ya know her fucking sister wanted her by her side.

OH NO! OUR MURDEROUS MENTALLY ILL TERRORIST IS HEALING AND TRYING TO TAKE ACCOUNTABILITY FOR HER MISTAKES! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! NOT CHARACTER GROWTH!

3. True. In that moment she felt she needed to die.. because as she says, she feels "there's no good version of me". I know it's unfair you have to watch the whole scene to get it. But you have taken a profound moment of Jinx's love for her sister and her recognition of how Vi loves her and made it.. whatever this was supposed to be.

Vi didn't care about the grey and serviced Caitlyn in a prison cell where she was locked away by Enforcers as a kid.

I have done this so... so many times. I am not doing it again. I will go with the same blanket statement I have been using lately: A non-lethal crowd dispersal weapon in targeted locations against dangerous drug lords and a terrorist who likes blowing shit up? Seems like a decent plan.

Well done. You have taken a beautiful moment of meaning between these two characters and simplified it down to the utmost degree. There are numerous thoughtful, in-depth and heartfelt breakdowns of this scene available and I promised myself I wasn't going to waste a bunch of my time responding to this mind-melting ignorance. So I will just say this. If that is all you see in that scene, I really am sorry for you. I hope someday things improve.

Jayce acting like Viktor's illness that was caused by Piltover wasn't something that needed to be cured

Because it wasn't about Piltover or Zaun you crusty dishrag. Viktor was trying to purify all of humanity after a life-time of seeing the imperfections and weaknesses in himself as a start. Jayce loved Viktor. I'm not even getting to romantic or platonic, he LOVED VIKTOR. I suppose you would have preferred for him to look at Viktor and yell "You know what you diseased freak you have a point! Good for you taking everyone's humanity. WELL DONE!"

Ekko never calls out Heimerdinger for his failings, Vi for joining the Enforcers, and risks his people (the firelights) to help Piltover.

Heimerdinger is very aware of his failings. You have to watch in season one. Again.. watching the show you talk about.. very hard I know. And as close as he and Ekko are in season two I think we can safely say they are on the same page. Never mind that Ekko has shown he has no trouble calling out anyone who needs it.

Ekko and Vi are family. So while it is true he may be angry and we don't see it, I think a character of immense heart like Ekko who loves Vi would actually talk with her. You know.. rather than the savage degradation of Vi some people seem to wish for.

AGAIN FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY

Sevika almost being cut completely, never reacting to Isha's death or interacting with Jinx in act 3 and risking her life to help Piltover which is way out of character

She is a side character. Sorry but she is. But after a lifetime trying and failing to stand for Zaun she becomes their first ever voice on the council. She is the representative of every person she has wanted to protect. Sorry if that doesn't cut it.

When exactly would we have seen this? I also would have been curious to see her reaction but they were dealing with the whole ya know.. war?!

Same to above. I wish we could have seen Jinx rallying the undercity with Ekko. I actually give you this one. I think this was a missed opportunity.

ONCE MORE WITH FEELING

I'm sorry scary Viktor. I don't know why they keep forgetting you.

[simmplerussiangirl]

Her Princess

Part one

Ambessa Medarda x Reader

Synopsis: The only daughter of the Ras family is exchanged with the Medard clan for a peace treaty. Thanks to her pride and the hard core inside her, she doesn't falls into despair and continues to live. She continues to live to take revenge on her family for literally selling her to a clan of enemies.

word count: 1.6k

cw: selfharm, hatred, aggression, death, defiant behavior, Ambressa is a sweet bun.

Part One

- Princess Ras, you are invited to the throne room.

 I knew this was going to happen. I was informed about this three nights ago, but my heart still did not believe that my own family would do this to me. Of course, we were not an ideal family, but rather the most ordinary, aristocratic one. With an infinitely angry and indifferent mother who hated her daughter, with a tyrannical father who, like the mother, did not participate in the child's life in any way because of his busy schedule and unwillingness. It seemed to me that we were not a bad family anyway. I guess I was just imagining it.

 I got out of bed, straightening my clothes.

I was wearing a light burgundy dress, the hems of which moved from any wind current, it was spectacular, just the kind I needed. And also, more importantly, it was in the colors of the Medard clan. I wanted my parents to realize that I knew. I knew what was going to happen today. But, nevertheless, I forced them to make that cherished speech on their own, looking straight into my eyes.

As I walked along the corridor, I took one last look around my ancestral mansion. There was no fear inside, I knew I wouldn't be killed or tortured. Firstly, I am quite a valuable exhibit because of my abilities. Secondly, I would kill myself faster than anyone would want to bring me harm. I will not allow myself to die at the hands of the Medard clan. Never in my life will I allow it. I will not give such joy.

 A flame of hatred burned inside me with every step I took. Each heel strike against the marble floor was accompanied by a strengthening of inner resolve.

 Disappointment at what they'd done to me. It hardened me even more, preventing me from crying or fleeing. Rather, it pushed me to think of new ideas for revenge.

 I felt more and more confident, clutching the amulet around my neck that I'd inherited from my late grandmother. It carried no magical potential, but when I touched it, I felt myself fill with the strength to go on. To go on, no matter what. 

Already standing at the door, I was brimming with determination. No blade, no arrow, no word could break me, shake my confidence.

-Princess Ros. - I entered the hall with my head held high and shoulders squared. I wore a mask of infinite calm on my face.

 The room was quiet. There were no whispers, no sighs. There was no sound at all, even the ever-noisy clock mechanism was silent, and no candles crackled in the candelabra. Everything froze, as if at a funeral.

 The clack of my heels was like a hammer hammering nails into a coffin lid. I stopped in front of my parents, who were now sitting on the throne. But this time I didn't bow, just stared at them as if they were dirt under my feet. In fact, they were now. I had lost all respect for them, and even the thought of bowing to them made me gag. From this moment on, they were no longer my family.

 Behind me I felt Medard's warriors, led by Umbressa herself. I could almost physically feel their gaze. Uncomprehending, even stunned by my antics. I wanted to shrink and cower under the oppression, but I could not allow myself to do so.

 I looked at my father, who opened and closed his mouth, staring at my clothes in shock. It was beautiful. Watching the echoes of realization appear on his face. That I knew everything. Just waiting for him to ruin his daughter's life with his own hands. When he literally sells her out.

- "In the war with Noxus," his trembling voice broke the silence of the hall, and I saw him wince at his own weakness, "we lost too many soldiers, too many civilians, too many resources. And we made the decision to retreat, to sit down at the negotiating table. And we came to the conclusion that we would end the war and sign a peace treaty. On the condition that we give Clan Medard something of extraordinary value. Something that could replace our territories.

  My father stared at me unblinkingly as I stood there, smirking in his face. But what was going on inside of me...A storm of emotions, my chest tightening, tugging as if I were about to pass out. I wanted to cuddle up to someone and cry at how painful and hurtful it was to hear those words. To realize that they see me as a resource to be exchanged for something.

-Ambressa,- my father finally took his gaze off me and looked somewhere behind me. - I'm handing you my only daughter, Sophie. She is naturally endowed with an extraordinary gift of magic. I am sure she will be useful in your future operations.

 I heard measured footsteps behind me. Soon two of Medard's warriors appeared beside me and were about to take me under their arms so that I would not run away, but I just looked calmly into the eyes of one of them and shook my head slightly. They immediately lowered their hands without touching me.

 Ambressa stood a little ahead of me, her back covered in a multitude of scars that stood out strongly in white stripes on her skin. I looked at her with mild interest, for this was the first time I had ever seen someone so strong, much less a girl. I smirked at the thought that she could take on our soldiers by herself and not even get tired. Surprisingly, I felt nothing for her. No emotion whatsoever.

-I accept this...an offering of sorts. It was an interesting negotiation, glad we all got what we wanted. As of this moment, the peace treaty is now in effect. Have a good day.

 Without bowing, the girl turned and walked away from the hall. One of the warriors gently touched my shoulder, hinting that it was time to leave. But I had something else to do.

-Can I say goodbye to my parents? - I turned my head to the side, looking at the wall instead of at the general. My pride wouldn't let me turn around to look her in the eye.

-Of course we'll wait. Family is sacred.

Ambressa laughed a little at the comicality of the statement. I, too, smiled a little and began to slowly and quietly climb up to my parents, who were sitting on the throne. As soon as I reached a flat surface, my mother approached me.

-It's best for all of us, - she said dryly and unemotionally as always. Mother pressed me lightly against her, patting me on the back and pushing me away, as if my embrace and closeness might stain her.

-Absolutely.

It hurt to hear that, but I buried it deep inside me, not letting any emotion come out. Someday I'll cry about it. Someday, but not now.

My father came over to me, pulling me quickly against him. I smiled a bloodthirsty smile, anticipating my actions.

-I want you to know, - I spoke softly in his ear, hugging his back, - I've wanted this for the past few years. I've literally dreamed about it. - I knew my father didn't know what I was talking about yet, but that was just for now. - Remember when you told me that everything in the world boomerangs back?

 Quickly using my magic I created a fiery dagger that was suspended in the air. I heard a commotion nearby and sharply plunged the dagger into my father's heart. The man instantly collapsed in my arms and I threw him to the floor, a small trickle of blood flowed from his mouth, quickly drenching the expensive uniform, the floor and the hem of my dress. I instantly created an air shield around me and my father, which helped me protect myself from my mother, who was already running to her beloved husband in tears. Either wanting to kill me or spend the last seconds of her life next to him, looking into his eyes.

-So your boomerang didn't go as far as you thought.

 I saw the light of life go out in his eyes, but he couldn't even say goodbye to his wife because I wouldn't let him.

-I hope you burn in hell.

I felt my mother begin to thrash into my shield and saw my mother take her last hoarse breath and close her eyes. I, still remaining infinitely calm, got to my feet and took small steps down the stairs. I walked with my head held high, hearing my own mother's curses and hysterics behind me. I walked straight toward Ambessa, who stood with an impenetrable face. The girl might not have expected something like this, but at least she didn't show it.

 As I approached her, she held out her hand to help me down the stairs. I put my hand in hers.

 My life has changed 180 degrees in just a few minutes. I was traded for a peace treaty, I killed my own father, and I'm going after the girl who ruined my life. This is not how I envisioned my future.

I would be very grateful for feedback, as English is a language I am only practicing. I accept criticism in a milder form, do not break my heart, pls.

[familiarscars]

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 02

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

"How are things over there?" Your mother’s cheerful voice echoed from the other end of the line, and you gripped the phone tighter.

By your estimate, you had only ten minutes left on your phone card, and she was known for talking without taking a breath.

“Why didn’t you call me earlier? I was worried!”

“Uh… yeah… everything’s fine, really.” You answered, biting your lower lip as you noticed the sky beginning to darken.

If it rained, you’d be in trouble on the long walk back to the sanatorium. Like the considerate coworker he was, Dr. Rune didn’t even bother offering to accompany you.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I didn’t call earlier because the signal’s bad here. I have to come all the way to town to use the phone, but there’s nothing to worry about, Mom. Everything’s fine, I promise!” You were never the type to struggle with lying, and your mother was easy to convince.

“I heard on TV that that rich murderer who killed his girlfriend is there. Is that true?”

The mention of Noah made your throat go dry. Your heart was still racing from the restless dream you’d had the night before.

“Yes, it’s true, Mom. It looks like I’ll be assigned to take care of him.”

“Aunt Becky says he’s handsome.” She chuckled—a raspy, broken sound, the product of years of smoking. “But the devil was handsome too, wasn’t he?”

The devil was handsome too...

“If there’s a chance to pass this case on to someone else, I’d prefer it. You just graduated, and handling something like this could be tough. And…”

“Mom, I’ve got to go now…” You cut her off before the speech started sounding too much like Dr. Rune’s. “We’ll talk in two days.”

“But…”

“Kisses! Love you!”

You slammed the receiver down with a bit more force than necessary. The store clerk gave you a stern look, and, to make up for it, you bought a few items you might need in the coming days: toiletries, extra socks, water, and cleaning supplies for your room.

Your day’s agenda was full. Two patients to see before the afternoon, when you’d have your first session with Noah. The previous night had been long, spent analyzing every detail of his case, searching for the best approach to start a conversation with someone who hadn’t spoken a single word in so long.

On the way back to the sanatorium, your mind was a whirlwind. Staring out the window, you couldn’t shake thoughts of the dream. It was disturbing how real it had felt: his touch tracing your body, the shadow his height cast around you, the physical discomfort that blurred the line between imagination and reality. Even now, in the back seat of the car, your body reacted involuntarily, legs tensing. As hard as it was, you had to push those clouds from your senses before it became impossible to face him directly.

At lunch, you picked up a tray of pasta, meatballs, juice, and an apple, determinedly walking past the chatter of other staff members you hadn’t met yet. Notebook tucked under your arm, you were ready to spend the meal studying.

Your first patient of the day, after returning from town, was a teenage girl accused of killing her own brother. Madeleine Skelter, fifteen, had been sentenced to a sanatorium due to her unstable mental state during the trial. She lost her mother at ten, and not long after, her father remarried. Madeleine gained a younger brother, but as time passed, strange events plagued the family. The boy was often injured, and the wounds worsened each week.

The family, desperate for answers, fired staff and grew suspicious of friends before the blame finally fell on the stepmother, who was diagnosed with postpartum depression.

Cracks formed like fragile glass in their home. When Madeleine was caught smothering her brother with a pillow, she was ready to frame her stepmother so she could have her father to herself. She’d admitted her plan: to remove everyone in her father’s life until it was just the two of them—"happy" at last.

She played the role of his wife, cooked for him, washed his clothes, and obsessed over appearing adult, despite his clear rejection of her behavior.

Madeleine showed no remorse, only weeping over her father, who had erased her existence from his life. He and his wife moved abroad and started anew.

Narcissistic and arrogant, she nearly drained your social battery in 45 minutes.

“Hey!” A familiar voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up, setting your pen down and leaving the apple on your plate. Dr. Rune, all smiles, waved as he approached. You quickly adjusted your posture and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Hello!”

“Eating alone? Oh no! Come on, sit with us at my table. I’ll introduce you to some friends!”

Deeply uncomfortable with his insistence, you reluctantly stood, gathering your things as he helped carry what he could. Together, you walked to the table.

“Everyone, this is the new psychiatrist at Hidden I told you about!” Travis introduced you, and the three people at the table smiled warmly, urging you to sit. “These are Jake, Sloan, and Charlote.”

“Welcome!” they all said in unison, and you smiled your thanks.

“So, you’re the one handling the handsome psychopath?” The youngest woman, dressed in a green nurse’s uniform, leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “Your hair smells nice.”

“Sloan, don’t scare her!” Travis scolded. “It’s bad enough she has to sleep on that information.”

Maybe Travis was annoying.

Or maybe not—he was annoying.

“Actually, I slept perfectly well with that information, Dr. Rune,” you said calmly, finishing the last bite of apple. “This place is full of killers. Noah isn’t that special. Maybe you’re the one a bit too excited.”

He blushed instantly as the others laughed.

“She’s right,” said Charlote Walker, her name embroidered on her coat. “He’s not the first famous nutcase we’ve dealt with.”

“Sure, he’s not that important,” Travis added, “but I like to remind the newbies not to get their hopes up. When we graduate, we think we can save the world. Unlike our other patients, this one won’t last long before they fry him in the chair.”

An awkward silence fell as everyone processed his words. All eyes turned to him as he nonchalantly scraped the last bit of grape jelly from his cup. His pristine white coat contrasted with the partially unbuttoned dress shirt underneath, revealing a glimpse of toned muscle.

"Then I’ll volunteer to be the last bitch he sleeps with." Charlote sneered to break the tense atmosphere, and everyone laughed. You didn’t find it funny at all but forced a laugh to blend in.

"Tonight, we’re having a little party just for the staff at the tavern, to take a break from this hellhole. We expect you there!" Sloan insisted, pulling a pen from her uniform pocket and grabbing your notebook to jot down an address and a phone number.

You loved parties, but you had no idea this kind of thing happened here, and you weren’t prepared for it. You hadn’t brought any clothes, no heels, and you suddenly felt so bare that embarrassment took over.

"We don’t take no for an answer if you even think about trying!" she warned, placing the notebook back in its place.

"I’ll think about it…" You nodded, pressing your lips together.

The conversation at the table was lively. Everyone, including Travis, talked excitedly about the much-anticipated party and how they desperately needed an escape valve to release the accumulated tension. You wanted to join in, to immerse yourself in the buzz of excitement, but your eyes remained glued to the clock on the wall. With each passing tick of the hands, the voices around you seemed to drift further away, becoming a distant echo. Your hands began to sweat, a persistent reminder that his arrival was drawing near.

Your office was modest, containing only the bare essentials: a desk and two chairs — one for you, one for the patient. You had taken care to remove anything that could attract his attention or pose any kind of risk. On the desk sat only a notebook, a bottle of water, and a pen — simple, safe items. The air carried a faint hint of lavender from the room spray you had purchased in town. It was a subtle fragrance you liked — present without being overpowering.

When you glanced at your wristwatch, exactly 4:00 p.m., a sharp metallic sound echoed from outside. The door was shoved open with force, and a guard pushed the man, shackled hand and foot, into the room. Noah wore a sleeveless shirt that revealed his tattooed arms. Despite his clean appearance — his hair slicked back and still damp from a shower — he scanned the room with an indifferent gaze, visibly bothered by the scent lingering in the air.

Then, his eyes landed on you.

He drew in a deep breath and stepped backward, a reaction you hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, confusion flickered within you until you realized Noah was trying to retreat toward the guard, as if seeking escape. You frowned and instinctively checked your reflection in your phone’s screen, discreetly sniffing your underarms. Was there something wrong with you?

"None of that!" The guard shoved him firmly into the room, forcing him to remain still.

"Thank you, sir," you said as you observed Noah’s shoulders tense. "We’ll see you in forty minutes when the session ends."

"I can’t leave you alone with him," the guard protested.

"I doubt your presence will make him feel comfortable. I’ll take full responsibility," you replied with conviction. Reluctantly, the guard sighed and closed the door behind him. "Now there’s nowhere to run. Just you and me."

Slowly, Noah turned, casting furtive glances your way. His face was a mask of disdain. He seemed to survey every inch of the room as if enveloped in filth or surrounded by a foul stench. His expression, haughty and nearly intolerable, remained as he dropped into the chair across from you with a show of complete disregard.

"Well, it’s only fair to start at the beginning, right? Noah, I’m Dr. —"

He let out a sigh of boredom, rolling his eyes. The soft light from the window cast shadows on the intricate tattoos that adorned his neck, each design hinting at stories hidden beneath his skin.

"I’m genuinely willing to treat you like a human being, okay?" you said firmly, slicing through the uncomfortable silence he cultivated. The irritation inside you grew, fueled by the way he examined the room with contempt, as if he were superior to everything and everyone around him. "That’s already quite different from how my colleagues see you. To them, you’re just patient 268!"

Your eyes locked on his, trying to pierce the wall of apathy he had erected.

"If you’re not interested in being treated that way, I can adjust my approach," you continued, your tone blunt and unwavering. "That doesn’t bother me. But I much prefer respecting people, regardless of who they are!"

A faint twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at a reaction, but he simply stared at you with that same defiant gaze.

"We’ll take it slow. It’s up to you whether you speak or remain silent, but I’ll still be here doing my job, even if it’s just sitting quietly with you." You spoke calmly, keeping your tone composed. "Can you tell me how you’re feeling today?"

Nothing. Not a single response. He remained as still as a statue, though far from lifeless. It was the way he held himself that unsettled you — a predator behind a mask of indifference.

You paused, then tried again.

"What do you remember from the night you were found?"

His eyes sharpened, locking onto you. There was no emotion, but a sharp, undeniable presence seemed to tighten the air between you. He didn’t answer, but the slightest lift at the corner of his mouth betrayed a sardonic smile — anything but kind.

Heat crept up your neck as you felt yourself under his dissecting gaze rather than the other way around. His eyes roamed over your fingers gripping the pen, the rhythm of your breath, the way your legs crossed. His attention was so intense that it set your pulse racing, a reaction you struggled to mask as you shifted in your chair.

"Noah." Your voice was steady, but your skin burned with a growing tension. "Are you really not going to tell me how you feel? About what happened that night?"

Silence. His smile remained, smug and unkind.

Leaning forward, you caught a trace of his scent — metallic, sharp, clean. Threatening in its subtlety, much like the man himself.

"Did she mean anything to you?" Your words sliced through the thickening air. "Did you love her?"

His smile didn’t waver. But his eyes… they shifted — a flicker of recognition. Love stirred something within him, though what exactly, you couldn’t tell.

The weight of expectation hung heavy between you. The tension stretched thin, a thread about to snap.

"And anger?" Your voice softened, almost a whisper. "Did you hate her? For what she did to you? For how she made you feel?"

Nothing again. Just silence. But the measured way he breathed — slower, deeper — gave away the internal battle.

Noah remained a statue of control, but his hands betrayed a subtle shift. His fingers flexed against the chair’s armrest, as though suppressing the urge to crush something — or someone.

You caught every movement. The whitening of his knuckles. The tightening of his jaw beneath that treacherous smirk. He was playing a dangerous game. But you weren’t about to back down.

It was time to change the rules.

"You like testing limits, don’t you?" you tilted your head, keeping your voice neutral. "You know, staring at me won’t give me answers. Words will."

His smile widened a little more, but he remained silent.

Switching tactics, you opened a folder beside you and pulled out a faded photograph, sliding it across the table. The image depicted a family in a Victorian mansion—parents formally dressed, children posed as if part of a meticulously staged play. Noah’s face was younger, but the intensity in his eyes was the same.

"This is your family," you said, your tone almost casual. "What was it like growing up as the heir to Blackridge Island?"

The smile vanished. The change was swift, a transformation that made your skin prickle. His jaw tightened slightly, his gaze flicking to the photo as though it burned him. For the first time, you saw something different in his expression.

The silence thickened, becoming almost tangible. Without the smile, Noah shifted from a predator in check to a raw, visceral presence. The weight of his stare was now a blade, slicing slowly through the professional armor you’d carefully constructed.

"Families have power, don’t they?" His voice was low, almost confessional, as he leaned slightly forward. "They shape, bind, and sometimes… break."

The tension in his jaw became more pronounced, muscles clenching with barely contained restraint. His eyes, once cold and calculating, seemed caught in a dark, inescapable past. Yet, he remained silent.

Frustration, mingled with something you refused to name, tightened your chest. He was so close—like a storm ready to break—and yet, unreachable. His energy vibrated through the air, an electric current affecting you more than it should.

Your fingers lightly touched the edge of the photo on the table.

"What do you see when you look at them?" The question came as a challenge. "Guilt? Hatred? Or do you miss them?"

Still, no response.

When Noah finally tore his eyes from the photograph, his gaze landed back on you with renewed intensity. He wasn’t distant anymore. A shift had occurred.

The way he looked at you now was deliberate, methodical, as though peeling away each layer of your defenses. His eyes weren’t just cold—they were precise. They roamed your face, trailed down your neck, and observed the way you bit your lower lip, trying to mask your growing discomfort.

Your body reacted before you could stop it, vivid fragments of last night’s dream flashing unbidden through your mind. A sharp heat traveled down your spine—not fear, but something far deeper and infinitely less welcome.

You crossed your legs as if the gesture could shield the vulnerability he had begun to uncover.

"Anything else you’d like to share, Noah?" You forced a professional tone, struggling to regain control.

He tilted his head slowly, like a predator studying prey. Still silent. The smile was gone for good, but his gaze wielded more power than words ever could.

Then, a small, almost hypnotic gesture: his thumb grazed his jawline, a deliberate, slow movement, as his eyes remained fixed on yours.

The room seemed smaller. The air, heavier. Your breath shortened. He wasn’t just looking. He was unraveling you.

You tried to focus on your notepad, but your hand faltered for a split second.

"Very well, Noah," you said, aiming for finality but sounding far too fragile. "That’s all for today. In honor of your silence, I’ll match it until the session ends."

He didn’t blink. He didn’t move. He stayed there—an immovable shadow, a living mirror reflecting truths you didn’t want to confront. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gathered the folder.

After what felt like hours of an unspoken battle, the guard stormed into the room, his brusque manner shattering the tension and drawing Noah’s attention. Forty minutes of unwavering focus, those uniquely brown eyes never leaving yours, came to an abrupt end. As he was led away, he glanced back once more. The knot in your stomach tightened painfully.

You were lucky.

You were very lucky.

No, it wasn’t luck. It was your meddling mother, who had insisted on slipping a dress into your suitcase, saying you needed to be prepared for anything. The red fabric hugged your body, the deep neckline accentuating your curves, and thin straps framing your shoulders. Its rich hue contrasted with your dark lipstick and smoky eyes. Waves in your hair, heels that weren’t too high.

Not bad.

You hadn’t intended to stay long at the tavern. These people were strangers, after all, and you barely knew them. But it would suffice for a night of socializing.

Sloan walked with you, laughing at the difficulty of navigating gravel paths in heels. The tavern lay hidden within the woods—a place where shadows and secrets thrived.

The tavern exuded a rugged nostalgia, a place the years had worn down but could never truly erase. The low ceiling, with dark wooden beams, loomed heavily overhead. Lanterns cast flickering shadows on walls adorned with faded photographs of Grimshade’s founders, broken bottles’ scars from forgotten nights, and a glass-eyed stag staring into nothingness. The air smelled of spilled beer, smoke, and the syrupy sweetness of warm cider.

Your friends were already tipsy, and a server handed you your first drink. The first sip burned like gunpowder down your throat but left a lingering sweetness.

The floor creaked beneath your feet as you moved, feeling the violin’s pulse guiding the clumsy dance steps of drunken revelers. At the bar, glasses clinked, calloused hands gestured wildly, telling stories taller than truth.

In the corner, Travis caught your eye immediately. He looked different—freed from the confines of the asylum’s sterile environment. Dark jeans, a light shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. His smile came before his words.

"You look… stunning." His voice was soft, almost swallowed by the music.

You smiled, heat blooming in your cheeks, but kept your tone light.

"And you’re wearing something other than a uniform. Impressive." You hesitated, trying not to admit how attractive he looked.

He laughed, a sound that rumbled deep in his chest, as natural as breathing. Before you could pull back, he offered his hand.

"Shall we dance?"

You hesitated. But when your fingers touched his—warm and sure—the music made refusal impossible.

Your steps were tentative at first, but familiarity grew quickly. Travis held your hand firmly, guiding your movements with effortless ease. The lively rhythm swept you both along with the crowd, but it wasn’t the sound that stole your breath—it was the way he looked at you, with a fascination so palpable that it made you wonder if the alcohol was already bubbling in your veins.

No. No. No.

You couldn’t be hallucinating about another man at a moment like this. Shaking your head gently, you banished the thought, focusing instead on the dance and the alcohol’s numbing embrace.

Much later, as the night cooled, he walked you home. The moon hung low, and laughter echoed faintly in the distance, carried by the soft breeze.

"I wanted to apologize for how I’ve acted since you arrived…" He began, his voice tinged with awkwardness. Without his glasses, his casual demeanor and clear eyes stood out, glowing silver in the moonlight.

"There’s no need to apologize."

"This job… it means a lot to me, and I’ve been overprotective ever since I became head psychiatrist," he admitted. "A ridiculous trait for someone so obsessed with perfection."

"I don’t think it’s ridiculous… Obsession usually stems from something deeper."

"Are you analyzing me, doctor?" His eyes narrowed playfully as he spun you around, wringing a laugh from your lips.

"There’s a lot of pressure for someone your age. I understand more than you might think."

"My father didn’t believe I’d amount to much, and he thought moving to Grimshade was a mistake," Travis paused, the memory darkening his expression. "He said I was wasting my degree."

"Well, he must be disappointed because you’ve become an excellent doctor, Dr. Rune." You winked, and he smiled shyly.

At the door of the bedroom, Travis stopped. For a moment, you both simply stood there, breaths mingling in the cool air. He seemed even more irresistible with his golden hair damp from sweat and his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his chest. You bit your lower lip as you noticed him watching you too — his gaze fixed on your neckline.

Then, tired of waiting, while your body burned with his nearness, you closed the distance and kissed him.

It was a kiss without space for hesitation or second-guessing. Intense. The taste of alcohol made the softness of his tongue even sweeter. He pulled you by the waist, your back lightly hitting the door as your lips devoured his, urgent and hungry.

The heat of his body pressed against yours was a spark, igniting every sense. Your fingers tangled in his hair, kisses becoming messier, deeper. You stumbled together inside, bodies entwined, the door slamming shut behind you and drowning out the rest of the world.

You pushed him onto the bed, confusion and desire flickering across his face before he surrendered. Straddling his lap, his hands grasped your hips, guiding you closer until your noses touched, a deliberate, tantalizing graze. His grip tightened on your hips, drawing you against his growing arousal as your fingers clutched his nape, your breaths mingling, igniting another fierce kiss.

Your hands buried in his hair, pulling gently as you savored his lips, your tongues tangled. The earlier tension dissolved, now knotted into a feverish desire binding your bodies together. You pressed against him, unbuttoning his shirt with urgency before tossing your own dress aside. His palm cupped your breast over your bra, and his hardness throbbed beneath his pants, teased by the slow roll of your hips.

A chill coiled in your stomach as the kiss deepened, a nagging feeling like a mistake — or worse — something you’d never felt before. You forced the thought away, focusing on the taste of his lips, gripping his neck and sighing when his fingers trailed from your thighs to your chest, a delicate, maddening caress.

Then a jolt struck you. Your eyes snapped open mid-kiss. There, outside the window, perched on a tree branch, a dark figure watched you both. Its expression was unreadable, moonlight illuminating only the edge of a long, lean silhouette, cloaked in black with fists clenched on its thighs — a silent, seething witness.

It was him.

Before you, as if conjured by some cruel magic, the golden strands between your fingers darkened, the musky scent of cologne shifted, and your hands roamed patterns on pale skin. You blinked, but the illusion remained — Noah, not Travis, was touching you, stripping you, and the pulse of his hardness against you made you gasp, slick with a memory too vivid to be dismissed.

A wicked smirk curved phantom lips. Teeth too perfect, too familiar, played tricks on your mind. You surrendered to your delusion, consumed by the fire he brought with him.

Grinding your wet heat against the rigid length beneath you, craving him inside for the first time, you freed him from his pants, rolled on a condom from the nightstand, and sank down all at once. A moan escaped your lips, loud, unrestrained. Eyes squeezed shut, you tilted your head back, moving with slow, rolling hips that matched his hoarse groan.

"Oh, my God," he rasped, breath hitching as his mouth trailed down your chest, teasing the piercing at your nipple.

You ignored him, lost in sordid thoughts.

You glanced back to the window. The shadow hadn’t moved. His head tilted, watching you ride another man, but the truth scorched your soul — it was him you wanted beneath you.

Pleasure tightened your chest, the raw thrill of being watched fueling your forbidden lust. Fingers traced your spine as your body arched, the sensation of him swelling deeper within making your moans crack like a roar. You stifled a cry — his name poised on your tongue.

What the hell was happening? You were ignoring the man inside you to provoke the devil outside? And you reveled in it?

Screw it.

It was Noah you craved, and in secret corners of your heart, you let yourself admit it. He was your sin, your destruction, and you yearned to drink deeply of his damnation.

You couldn’t look away from that tree, from his heaving chest, from the rage or the hunger. The climax hit you hard, molten embers bursting within.

As Travis flipped you beneath him, driving deep, your nails clawed the sheets, shutting out the infernal thoughts.

But the second wave of pleasure scorched hotter than before. Together, you shattered into shared groans, your bodies collapsing, breathless and undone.

You stared at the ceiling, biting your lip, his weight beside you. The window was empty now.

And you’d never know if it had been a trick of the mind — or a glimpse of a dark truth you weren’t ready to face.

[its-your-mind]

Something something timkon and hair and how lex lichrally programmed Kon to shave his head before he went all luthor and was forced to attack his team, his best friends, his family. and then how most of the hair on the back of Tim’s head got burned off when he got blowed up (thx Steph) and he had to cut or shave the rest of it off so it could grow back semi-evenly. and how kon was a #rebel esp compared to all-American Boy Scout Superman; Kon’s rockin around with the side cut and the leather jacket and the buckles and the spikes or the (ill-advised and made me sad) black t-shirt and jeans but even the “I am a totally normal bro” getup made him distinct and different from Kal and that is really important to Kon because he wants to be his own person, not a Superman-stand-in. and THEN fucking LEX made it so Kon would look more like Lex! his other DNA donor!!! And Tim!! He kept his hair short — just long enough to spike it up as Robin — until both of his parents were gone. which suggests to me that he kinda always wanted it long (hello Tim Drake, #1 Dick Grayson stan) but that just wasn’t an option allowed to him (not uncommon for parents who care Very Much about Appearances — my own parents were the same about my brothers’ hair growing up, not least because the private all-boys school they went to dictated that their hair couldn’t be long enough to touch the collar of their shirt (with exceptions for [insert kinda racist and vaguely xenophobic language here] hair styles). As soon as he turned 18 my baby brother got a rocker-style mane. But I digress. Anyway). Then, post-tragedy, Tim’s hair got long enough to flip down over his forehead and stream behind him when he swung through the city (perhaps one of his ways of clinging to control and his sense of self in the whole awful situation). But then… Tim got fucking exploded, betrayed by his ex-girlfriend who had only just returned after letting him grieve her death for a year, and now she’s following Tim’s dead father mentor’s instructions to challenge him or whatever the fuck bullshit Batman told her, (a young girl whose own father was an asshole criminal, who so desperately wanted Bruce to be proud of her) and now Tim has to cut his hair all the way down to the scalp again and listen. I’m sorry dc tim looks fucking amazing in adventure comics and I’m in love with how he is arted but hair cannot and does not grow back that quick!! Mf had to wait!! I bet it grew in fucking patchy!! I bet kon’s did too!! (prolly not as bad as Tim’s cuz Tim’s got scar tissue and shit.)

but I just think tim and kon deserve a chance to sit down and just commiserate with each other about growing their hair back out (growing back out a sidecut is a BITCH I speak from experience) and Tim’s prolly having to trim his own hair super often to keep it nice-ish while it comes back in, and Kon’s curls are just a fucking MESS until they grow out enough to like. Curl. (Again, speaking from experience) And they’re just shooting the shit (“well MINE was worse bc I looked like fucking LEX. LUTHOR.” / “well you didn’t have to wait to figure out which parts of your scalp we actually gonna bother growing hair again”) until it gets quiet for a minute. And then one of them asks if the hair also reminds the other one of The Shitty Thing That Happened. And then they fucking talk about it. About how they can’t look in the mirror without having a flashback of pain or rage. How it makes them feel like they don’t even get to control their own bodies, their own appearances, and how much that fucking sucks. How they go to run their hand through their hair and there’s just. Not enough of it to do that. How Kon is terrified that somehow looking like Lex means Lex will use him to hurt the people he loves again. How every time Tim sees another Bat or Bird looking at the back of his head, all he can think about is how they might be planning to lure him into another Bat-mandated trap test. How both Tim and Kon kinda really miss the feeling of people playing with their hair. How they miss playing with each others’ hair.

And maybe then one of them extends an offer and the other does the same and they agree to do each others’ hair. Maybe it’ll help paint a new layer over those awful memories.

So Kon finds Tim once a week (he’s never in the same place, he’s rarely even in the same country) and he trims the hair until it looks even, gives Tim the #sitch on how much hair is growing back in. After the second or third week he realizes that Tim’s not keeping up with his burn-care routine, so he starts bringing burn and scar cream with him too. Then he remembers Tim’s lack of a hair care routine and starts trying out different products on Tim’s hair to see what works best. Tim doesn’t say anything, but he thinks all of this feels even better than when Kon and Cassie used to twist little braids into his hair.

Kon insists that Tim doesn’t have to help until his hair’s grown out more, (that he doesn’t want Tim nearby and distracted while Kon still looks like Lex) but Tim outright refuses to let Kon push him away and he will NOT be outdone in the caretaking game. He waits until Kon’s busy fighting some giant alien robot in metropolis and sneaks in to the Kents’ house to scope out what products Kon uses. When he leaves the bathroom, Ma Kent is there, eyebrow raised. She tells him he “could have just knocked on the front door, sweetheart, we know how’ta keep secrets in this house. Now, let’s get some food in you before Conner comes home. You’re all skin and bones, hun.” So Tim goes downstairs and takes some mini meat pies for the road, and then researches the products Kon uses, what they do, what the ingredients do, if there are other (more expensive) options that people have sworn up and down are better. He amasses a collection, and the next time Kon shows up with clippers and healing creams and a new shampoo to try, Tim’s already got ten different products lined up on the sink — everything from shampoos and conditioners to serums and masks. Kon asks if these are things Tim wants Kon to use in Tim’s hair. Tim tells him that no, all of these are for Tim to try on Kon. Kon almost cries. (He does cry, he just doesn’t let the tears fall until Tim isn’t looking.) (Tim notices anyway ofc.) And Tim’s made a spreadsheet to track the effectiveness of different products, different ingredients, different combinations, so he tells Kon to start coming every 2-3 days instead, so he can establish results using a realistic timeframe. Sometimes, if Tim’s gonna be in one place for a few days, Kon just crashes with him. (Neither of them say it, but they both fucking CRAVE the old Core Four cuddle piles.) Eventually, when Kon’s hair is long enough that he’s ready to switch back to his side-cut again, Tim surprises him by not only shaving the hair down, but shaving a few racing stripes (“they’re flight patterns!” / “rob, I dunno what to tell you. everyone’s gonna think they’re racing stripes. doesn’t mean they aren’t dope as fuck, though.”) into Kon’s hair. Every time Kon’s hair grows out enough, Tim shaves it back and stencils in a new design. Kon starts making requests (“gimme the Super ‘S’!” / “It’s the House of El crest, Kon. You know that. Also, you have a secret identity to maintain.” / “C’mon, I’ll just say I’m a fan!” / “With the same El family crest shaved onto your scalp as Superboy?” / “No one’s noticed the identical head decor yet!”) but it’s the day Kon asks (with the same confident and mischievous tone as always) for Tim to shave in the Red Robin crest that something in Tim’s chest, something formless and warm that he hadn’t really paid attention to before, seers a burning path through his heart, takes root, and solidifies.

“Kon. I love you.”

Kon’s distracted, rifling through their hair-care bags for Tim’s razors. “Love you too, Robbie. Duh. That’s why I’m askin’ you to shave your cre–”

“No,” Tim shakes his head, mildly frustrated with himself for the lack of clarity. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been for a while.”

Kon is seated in the chair they’d pulled into the bathroom from the hotel room’s desk, so he has to look up to meet Tim’s eyes. The hand digging beneath sample bottles of leave-in conditioner freezes, still wrist-deep in hair products. Kon’s expression looks to Tim like one of his video games’ character builders froze between the settings for ‘bright smile’ and ‘shock and awe.’

So Tim just looks down at him. Waits. If this was anyone else, Tim would probably be losing his mind right now, but… it’s Kon. Tim’s safe. Kon would never do anything to hurt him.

Kon unfreezes, blinks a few times. “Could you–” he coughs. “Could you say that again? I think my brain maybe like, malfunctioned for a second.”

Tim takes a step closer, reaches out one hand to cup Kon’s cheek, scratches his fingertips through the stubble on the side of Kon’s head. “I’m in love with you, Conner Kent.”

Tears fill Kon’s eyes, and he blinks them away. “That’s– that’s what I thought you said.” His hand (the one not trapped beneath a sea of shampoos, some detached and unhelpful part of Tim’s mind remarks) comes up to gently rest on Tim’s hip. “Robbie, Tim, I– of course I’m in love with you. You– you’re– you’re amazing, you know that? You’re so kind and strong and you’re a genius and you’re a gift to everyone around you; I dunno how everyone else doesn’t see you like I do.”

Tim can’t help but reach out his other hand to wrap around the back of Kon’s head, to feel where the curls carve a path down through the shorter hair and come to a sharp point.

“I mean, damn Wonder Boy,” Kon tries to muster up his Superboy smirk, but the look in his eyes is full of too much genuine affection for him to pull it off. “I think I’ve been in love with you since Kauai, since you grabbed me outta free-fall and swung me to safety. You caught me. No one’d ever done that before. And then you just… kept doing it. You’re still saving me, still taking care of me.”

Kon reaches his other hand (no eruption of hairspray, thank you TTK, that same unhelpful part of Tim’s mind comments. Read the room! the rest of Tim yells at it.) around the back of Tim’s neck, avoiding the tender and scarred areas with practiced ease, and pulls Tim down until their foreheads touch.

“I love you, Wonder. I love you, Robbie.” Kon tilts his head up, waits until their eyes meet. He’s got the biggest smile on his face that Tim’s ever seen.

Tim smiles back, and Kon’s eyes soften. “I love you, Tim.”

Tim leans down and uses his hands on either side of Kon’s head to guide Kon’s lips up to his own.

This is what I want to remember, Tim thinks as he feels Kon’s fingers gliding softly against the sensitive skin of his burn, feels Kon’s TTK covering and protecting the parts still too tender to touch. Tim runs his own fingertips back and forth over the stubble on the sides of Kon’s head, before pushing them up until they’re tangled in Kon’s curls.

I don’t want to care anymore whether or not the people around me look at the back of my head and see weakness or failure. They don’t get to decide whether this mark on my body matters or what it means. I do. And I decide that these scars are important because they brought me here, to this moment. They brought me to Kon.

Kon tilts his head down to break the kiss. He stands up, and before Tim gets a chance to move away and give him space, Kon wraps his arms and TTK around him. He plants a kiss in Tim’s hair. “Damn, Wonder Boy. Having to grow all my hair back almost feels worth it if it got me here.”

Tim smiles and wraps his arms around Kon’s waist, nestles into Kon’s chest. “You know what, Clone Boy? I was just thinking the same thing.”

[margeoww]

OKAY FOR THE ANGST

how bout some age gap (READER IS LEGAL OBVI) like reader is in her 20s and when she introduced toto to the fam, they did NOT like him. They were off about the age gap and made it clear they don't like the relationship. toto and reader end up breaking up cause of toto did not want to ruin her relationship with her fam and yadayada, just a sad ending overall

Too Wide a Divide

back to my masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x fem!reader

summary: when the reader introduces Toto Wolff to her family, the stark age gap becomes an unspoken elephant in the room. Their disapproval grows evident, leading to tension and heartbreak. Despite the love between them, Toto decides to step away, unwilling to be the cause of her strained relationship with her family.

warnings: Angst and heartbreak, family disapproval, age gap themes, bad ending.

You should’ve known introducing Toto to your family would be difficult, but you hadn’t expected it to feel like walking into a battlefield.

The moment Toto stepped into your childhood home, his confidence seemed to dim under the weight of the judgmental stares. Your father greeted him with a handshake that lingered too long—firm, almost challenging. Your mother’s polite smile faltered as her eyes scanned him, likely comparing his age to their own.

Toto, ever the gentleman, carried himself with poise. He complimented your mother’s cooking, listened intently to your father’s stories, and even tried to engage your siblings in conversation. But no matter how much effort he put in, their responses remained cold, clipped, and filled with subtle jabs.

—So…—your older brother said, leaning back in his chair with an almost predatory grin. —how old are you exactly, Mr. Wolff?

—Forty-seven. —Toto replied evenly, his tone calm despite the growing tension.

—Forty-seven. —your brother repeated, drawing the words out as if to drive the point home. —That’s… impressive. Almost double her age, right?

You tensed, glancing at Toto, who gave you a reassuring smile. But you saw it—the flicker of discomfort in his eyes.

—It’s not about numbers. —Toto said, his voice steady. —It’s about how we feel about each other.

—And how long will that last? —your father cut in, his voice low and sharp. —Feelings fade. Reality doesn’t.

The rest of the dinner was a blur of forced conversation and thinly veiled hostility. You could barely meet Toto’s gaze, guilt clawing at you for subjecting him to this.

After dinner, Toto offered to help clean up, but your mother waved him off. —We’ve got it. —she said curtly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

When the two of you stepped outside for some air, Toto pulled you into a gentle embrace. His warmth grounded you, even as your mind spiraled with frustration and shame.

—I’m sorry. —you whispered, burying your face in his chest. —They’re just… protective. They don’t know you like I do.

—I know. —he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. —But maybe they’re right to be concerned.

You pulled back, frowning. —What’s that supposed to mean?

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. —You’re young, Schatz. You have so much ahead of you—so much to experience. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your family’s support or miss out on opportunities.

—That’s not your decision to make. —you argued, your voice trembling. —I love you, Toto. I chose you.

He cupped your face, his thumb brushing away a tear that slipped down your cheek. —And I love you. But love isn’t always enough.

The days that followed were suffocatingly quiet. You could tell something had shifted in Toto. He still held you close at night, still whispered soft words of affection, but there was a distance—an inevitability—that hung over you like a storm cloud.

It wasn’t until a week later that he finally said the words you’d been dreading.

—I think we need to end this. —he said, his voice breaking as he avoided your gaze.

Your heart shattered. —You don’t mean that.

—I do —he insisted, though the anguish in his eyes betrayed him. —This isn’t fair to you. Your family…

—My family doesn’t get to decide who I’m with! —you snapped, tears streaming down your face. —They’ll come around eventually. We just need to give them time.

He shook his head, his own eyes glistening. —Time won’t change their concerns. And I can’t be the reason you’re stuck in the middle.

—Toto, please. —you pleaded, your voice breaking. —Don’t do this. I can’t…

He pulled you into a final embrace, holding you so tightly it felt like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. —You’re going to be amazing. —he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. —You deserve the world, Schatz. Even if it’s not with me.

You never blamed Toto for his decision. Deep down, you understood it came from a place of love, even if it left you feeling hollow.

Your family never brought him up again, acting as though he’d been a passing phase. But every time you saw his name in the news or caught a glimpse of him on TV, the ache returned.

Toto, for his part, threw himself into his work. He told himself it was for the best—that you’d be happier without the complications of their relationship. But late at night, when the world was quiet and his bed felt too big, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d made the wrong choice.

Some love stories aren’t meant to have happy endings, no matter how much you want them to.

[jadeshifting]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ SUPERNATURAL DR. ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ .　. 　 ˚　.

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

the thing about me is that i’ve always been a little off. not in a way you could put your finger on—rather, it’s the kind of strangeness that sneaks up on people. i hum under my breath, something old and haunting. sometimes people notice the way i watch the world, like i’m expecting it to crack open and spill something glittering and awful at my feet. i’m like a girl who stepped out of a gothic storybook and never quite made it all the way back

˚　.˚ . 　 ˚　.　.˚ BUNNY ( not telling the Winchesters my real name, or anyone else)—magnetic beauty, occupying the knife’s edge of angelic and eerie. luminous skin, bright and expressive eyes, my hair thick and pitch black dark—i look like i’ve just stepped out of a wildest dream, or maybe a grave

this story finds both its beginning and its end at the crossroads—with a deal

my soul—inevitable currency—for ten fleeting years of bliss. freedom to wander, promised a family—the word, “family,” trembles on my tongue, foreign and brittle after years lost in the abyss of solitude. do I even remember how to say it? i seal the pact with a kiss, tasting brimstone and rot. the demon smiles, and in that sulfurous breath, the contract is etched into the marrow of my being

when the Winchester brothers roll into town to deal with a poltergeist, neither of them question the strange feeling in their chest that screams take her with you. they just do

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ “what the hell are you supposed to be?”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ “i’m Bunny !!”

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

BRAIN-TOUCHED BY THE SPIRIT.

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˚　.˚ ♱⋆. LUCK O’ THE BUNNY—in other words, i seem to possess an almost supernatural amount of luck. coincidences break in my favor constantly—drawers contain exactly what i need, elevators arrive just in time, and once, a ghost’s axe misses me by a hair. i insist it’s just good energy, but the boys are convinced i’m beyond charmed in some way they can’t even begin to untangle, let alone explain

“a head full of ghosts,” my Sunday school teacher used to murmur, a prophecy cloaked in piety. perhaps she saw the truth before i did—whispers of the unseen curling around my mind, spirits pressing their truths into my bones. the air trembles with unseen forces, and i feel them, pulsing through my veins, screaming in my ears. creatures lurking in the shadows and the unspoken intentions of souls crash into me, a cacophony of the damned that never sleeps—knowledge that guides the Winchesters’ hunts with eerie precision

SAMMY. ( antichrist, boyfriend, etc)

the vessel of Lucifer managing to be deeply in love with the only individual who manages to be more of a freak oddball than him—and still entirely human

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⋆♱ it takes time for Sam to warm up to me (necklace of teeth, roadside shoplifting tendencies, unusual passion for motel mattresses), and i don’t entirely blame him. maybe it’s the proximity we have to eachother—rescinded to the Impala backseat when we both piss off Dean, shoved into diner booths, sharing the same single room at the motel and sleeping four feet away from eachother.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⋆♱ perhaps it’s the way my eyes linger, drinking in every word as he unravels the threads of paranormal lore, or how I remain by his side deep into the night, sifting through ancient texts when his own resolve falters. or maybe it’s the unflinching gaze I offer him, never clouded by judgment, even when shadows of his past paint him as something other than human. unlike those who have called him a monster—father, brother—I see him, wholly. i’m not sure. regardless, he finds himself enamored by my curious gaze and my striking ability to always do the most off-putting thing available

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

PAST. ( a long, long time ago. )

i grew up in the kind of sleepy Catholic town where everything smelled like incense and old wood. i was the quiet girl at the back of Sunday school, too pretty to ignore but too odd to keep close. while the other children were memorizing Bible verses and coloring in pictures of saints, i would sit cross-legged and staring, chewing thoughtfully at the ends of my hair. i asked the kinds of questions that made the nuns cross themselves

“if i buried my teeth in the yard, would something grow there?”

.　　. 　 ˚　. my parents weren’t cruel, but they were tired. maybe you’d be tired, too, if you had a daughter who always seemed to be somewhere else, even when she was standing right in front of you. they tried, but i was like smoke slipping through their fingers. when i was sixteen, my mother died suddenly, and my father didn’t last much longer. grief, they said, but i didn’t believe that. i knew grief didn’t leave fingerprints on the inside of windows or whisper my name when i was falling asleep

after that, the house was mine. it was a big, empty place that groaned when the wind hit just right, and i filled it with things that made sense to me: bones i found in the woods, tarot cards i stole from a flea market, broken dolls, and the leftover echoes of prayers i couldn’t quite remember

i met the demon on an ordinary Tuesday. i’d been wandering barefoot down the pale stones of the road, not realizing it even crossed—red iPod in my ears, humming along to Fleetwood Mac—when i heard the voice. smooth as silk, it coiled around me like smoke, whispering things i didn’t want to hear but couldn’t exactly ignore

“pretty girl like you, all alone. doesn’t that bother you?”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ “why don’t you show me your face and i’ll tell you if you’re worth my time?”

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when he did appear, all fire and shadows and hungry teeth, i just tilted my head and smiled, unbothered. i wasn’t afraid of him. maybe because i’d been expecting something like him my whole life

he offered me power. i declined. he offered me money. i laughed. but when he promised me a way out—out of that house, a new family, nothing to keep me stuck to the town whose fear rattled my skull like an animal in a cage—i paused. “and where would I go?” i asked

“anywhere,” the demon said. “everywhere. you’d like the road, Bunny.”

i met the Winchesters not long after that

I’M A LOT OF THINGS. ( useless isn’t one of them )

 ˚　.˚ ♱⋆ “VIBE-CHECKING” ( intuition ) — though it’s a combination of psychic power and an ability to read things, i can sense the energy of a place or person immediately. while Sammy and Dean are often skeptical, i’m never wrong. if i say “this diner is cursed,” you bet your ass we’re eating elsewhere

˚　.˚ ♱⋆ “POTION” MAKING — crafting strange, makeshift remedies that should not work by any medical or magical standard, but just do. a mix of intuition, vibes, and my great-grandmother’s old herbal tendencies—need an antidote for a venomous bite or a charm to keep spirits at bay? i’ll whip something up with ingredients i foraged on the motel lawn, a packet of sugar, and maybe a splash of tequila

 ˚　.˚ ♱⋆ EVASIVE DRIVING. — i’m good behind the wheel (considering i only get practice on podunk roads when Dean gives me a shot), particularly when it comes to outrunning angry spirits or law enforcement. my style is horrifying, but i’ve managed to lose pursuit on multiple occasions, all while blasting Ethel Cain at full volume (i take full advantage of Dean’s ‘driver picks the music’ rule)

  ˚　.˚ ♱⋆ DREAM INTERPRETATION. — dreams are the key to everything. i’m scarily accurate when it comes to interpreting them, which unsettles Sammy, especially when i casually translate his nightmares into cryptic warnings

“you dreamed of a crow flying into a window? oh, Sammy, that means we’re probably dealing with death omens. exciting!”

　　　 　　a game i love: WHAT DOES BUNNY KEEP IN THE BACKSEAT WITH HER ??

a deck of tarot cards, Burnett’s whipped cream flavored vodka, rosary, a jumbo kit kat, leatherbound journal, snow globe i stole from Wyoming, lemon blueberry tart perfume, tiny scissors, jingling bag of soda caps ( you get the vibe, truly )

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[big-cheesy-productions]

I just beat Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom for the first time and it has shot up to one of my favorite Zelda games.

A few things I really liked:

- I love that they didn’t just make Zelda Link 2.0 but Girl™️. It still felt like a Zelda game, but it didn’t feel like playing as Link and it shouldn’t.

- I love that it was heavily puzzle based, even more so than your average Zelda game because Zelda’s whole thing is Wisdom. She would approach problems differently than Link, whose whole thing is Courage.

- Zelda’s Lullaby motif being turned into the battle and exploration themes for this game? Awesome.

- Solving puzzles in this game felt WAY more satisfying than in TotK. While you can still solve puzzles your own way in each game, TotK felt like brute forcing, while this game still had limits, where you could solve a puzzle in your own unique way. Solving them was way more gratifying because of the limits.

- I love that we finally got to see Zelda’s side of the adventure. I’m so tired of her doing stuff off screen, or hearing about how endlessly wonderful and perfect and flawless she is (looking at you TotK. Ever heard of show don’t tell?) I love that we got to be her as she interacted with her people in the kingdom. We actually got to see WHY the people of Hyrule love Zelda so much outside of just “she’s our monarch.” And there was no like “but you can’t do this, you’re the princess, you have to act like one.” Everyone was like, “yeah, you’re the princess. Of course you should do this. It’s literally your job to take care of us.” The only reluctance we get is from the King and that’s only because he’s a father, but he also recognized it was her duty.

- I loved Tri. Zelda companions can be hit or miss and Tri was a hit. I got misty eyed at points.

- They gave us an in-game canonical reason for why Link can’t speak. Amazing.

- This Zelda is one of my favorite portrayals of Zelda, second only to Tetra, mainly for nostalgia reasons.

Everything was just so endearing. I really really enjoyed this game. And I 100% it and barely had to look anything up to do so!

10/10 game, would recommend. Literally have no complaints.

And it only took about 40 years for the titular character to get her own game.

[magicalwitchbread]

I managed to put my mum on Arcane, so I'm rewatching it with her and taking in more details and understanding things better.

On my first watch, I did not particularly like Caitlyn because of the shit she pulled. The difference is that now I can "defend" my stance.

Arcane spoilers below the cut, so beware.

Jinx and Cait

Jinx, who was obviously in an interesting, to say the least, place mentally, took a shot at Piltover's council. In the aftermath, it was discovered that councilwoman Kiramman had died. Yes, very sad, anyway. JINX DID NOTHING WRONG. She fought back against her and her people's oppressors. This is not wrong.

And very importantly, she did not target civilians out of spite while in-fucking-sane. There is a whole sequence where Vander talks to Vi and says "I know you want to hurt the top side people." The people. Not the ruling class, not the council, the people. Vi had hatred and spite in her because Enforcers killed her parents, and that's understandable. (Also, note that as she matured, she did not act on it.) But since Powder and Jinx had separated, Jinx did not have anything against the people of Piltover, but she was batshit crazy so killing them would not be out of pocket for her. Powder's parents were killed by them, but Jinx had killed her own father figure, Piltover's citizens had nothing to do with it. She purposefully targeted the council. And achieved exactly what she wanted, she killed her oppressors. Not because she felt personally victimized, the way Vi felt, but because they were oppressors. That's why she managed to become the symbol of the revolution in the second season, even though she was not "active".

Now Cait... She could have stopped Jinx and saved her mother. That's the reason why she is so hell-bent on apprehending Jinx herself. But she does it completely wrong. She builds a team, which includes Vi, Jinx's sister, which is just a dick move overall, and her objectives going into Zaun are to apprehend Jinx, dismantle shimmer and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco, who is dead now. But she does not hesitate to kill any innocent civilian who even remotely inconveniences her and her goals. She kills people, not to mention that while fighting, she almost shot at Isha, A CHILD. She didn't stop at civilians but at least she did at children. And don't get me started on the whole "I wouldn't have missed." bit. Isha's and Jinx's heads were lined up. If she shot at Jinx, she would have killed Isha.

Ekko and Cait

I also hated the way she talked to Ekko. "Yes, I know you live down here as a community's leader at the ripe old age of 'not old enough to lead literally anything under normal circumstances' and live through the consequences of my mother's actions and decisions but you are wrong about the situation in the place where you literally live. My mum would never do that to people who have historically been oppressed and mistreated by people in her exact position."

The way she is disgusted and in complete denial when Ekko says "Your people hunt us like animals.". And then goes on to refer to the people who crashed her mother's memorial as animals. These are the same people, Cait. And that all while not considering that her mother's coffin would have been able to feed all of Ekko's, and anyone's in Zaun for that matter, found family for a long fucking time. And not knowing, I give her grace for this but she can piece it together she's a big girl, that Ekko was forced to leave his dead parental figure in the streets because he did not have the privilege of a burial not to mention a funeral and a memorial. Between him, Jinx and Vi there are seven parental figures that died but were never buried.

[firinnie]

How Athena and Hephaestus Became Parents

So I was very inspired by @mer-acle's ideas and @disappointed-time-traveller-time-traveller's wonderful drawing for a twist related to their son…

I really like the idea of ​​Hephaestus and Athena being forced to get married even though neither of them wanted to but they were on friendly terms so life went on somehow. Until the older gods pressured Olympus to grow. There were still few gods, Zeus wanted to have a grandchild after his oldest children and Athena didn't want to hear about anything related to pregnancy. Heph accepted it but gods don't suffer from infertility, they couldn't pretend that they were trying and nothing worked.

At some point, Athena, in an act of desperation, started looking for a way to get pregnant but without intimacy. She didn't know how Hera did it but at the same time she couldn't ask her about this because it would definitely reach her father. Instead, she decided to seek help from the roots, until she finally managed to listen to Gaia herself. She assured her of a way to have a child even without pregnancy and Athena made her first mistake, she made a decision without thinking it through.

Trying to do what Gaia said was hard because it was very awkward for both of them. Many attempts ended with Athena who was hesitating or moving but in the end she thought they would succeed but as soon as Hephaestus did his part, she quivered in panic and his fluid landed on her thigh. He offered her the material cloth so she quickly wiped off her leg and threw the cloth on the ground, close to tears she apologized for not being able to do one thing. Athena apologized.

But before Hephastus could say anything the earth shook and Gaia spoke, saying that if someone wanted to cheat the laws of nature she would help them, but also in an unnatural way for a god. She gave them a son but the punishment for parenting without marital love was his time with them, that was supposed to end. He was mortal and they realized what they had done knowing that in a moment they would bury their own child.

This marriage did not last long but even Hera was not angry when her grandson's grave was wet with tears.

…

Aaaa ok, so of course there are stories in which Erichthonius was half a man half a snake BUT there are also those when he was a boy with whom there were simply two snakes at his side. And of course this time let him be born WITH THE CONSENT OF BOTH PARTIES!

[newyearseve1979]

Impactful, Beautiful Deaths: The Fall of Lilia Calderu and Tamerlane Usher

I will be comparing the death of Lilia Calderu from Agatha All Along, the death of Tamerlane Usher from The Fall of the House of Usher.

 Lilia falls. In the tower she stands in, facing a group of enemy witches, she goes on a speech that is really nice, and not relevant right now. Generally it provides the viewer with an understanding of Lilia’s character growth, and how her ability to sacrifice herself in the way she does is her happy ending. What happens is that the tower is flipped upside down, and so she falls. Tension is built as Lilia falls in slow motion, reaching up. Her sparkling dress flows out around her and as the camera cuts to show her from the side, there is a sense of beauty. She smiles, and then she is gone. 

When she dies she does so for unselfish reasons. Lilia holds all of the cards in her hand (see what I did there?) and approaches the situation with a clear head, unlike Tamerlane. Lilia accepts her situation and what must be done, as well as her relationship with death.

Tamerlane Usher also has, what I consider to be, a beautiful death. She is lit in all sorts of green lights, and as she is tormented by the force that is Verna (and her own paranoia) she shatters the mirror above her bed. She jumps up, shattering the mirror above her head. She falls slowly, shattered parts of the mirror reflecting her terrified reflection and broken mental state, in a slowed down scene. In the time leading up to this scene, she has been, in a sense, scattered. She hallucinates, or is tricked by Verna, and either way it distorts her sense of time and reality. 

Lilia Calderu also faces a messy timeline, but in a much more literal sense. It puts her on uneven footing, but at least she ends up with a small support system. 

Any support system Tamerlane could have found is something she pushes away. She refuses her husband. She refuses to sleep. Those who she ends up with (Madeline guys, I fear it's Madeline) support this. 

She shatters the mirror. The viewer sees shattered reflections of Tamerlane. Then time resumes to normal, and she falls unceremoniously on the bed and dies. The shards rip her to shreds as they puncture her. 

Lilia falls on spikes, and so she is also impaled. Calderu is stabbed through the back, Tamerlane through the front. Both scenes use slow falls and clever use of lighting to create suspense and awe of their deaths. 

Lilia chooses her fall. She accepts it. She finds peace and rest after leading her scattered life. While Lilia is peaceful because she has found this peace on her own, Tamerlane's scene is fascinating because there is a psychotic beauty in how she dies. Tamerlane has this rest thrust upon her. She struggles against death as she struggles against sleep, and so she dies in her bed with thousands of images of what she wants to see the least; a true reflection of herself.  Lilia chooses rest and accepts herself, and Tamerlane dies unhappy and tired. 

And one last point is fate. Lilia Calderu was destined to fall. Divination and destiny are the driving forces of her character, clearly. Destiny was created for Tamerlane. Both of these characters were set for their fates, but where they differ is in agency. Lilia chooses to play her cards in her own favor, and taking this power into her hands is what satisfies her and puts her to rest. Tamerlane’s face was created by her father and aunt, which she does not know, but the viewer does. She could have been given a more peaceful death (and this goes for nearly all of the Ushers) if she had been more open to the flow of her life and her dealings with entities like Rio and Verna. I do not want to liken Rio to Verna totally, because Verna simply is not Death. For these purposes though, they both represent an exterminating, natural force. 

Lilia and Tamerlane die in beautifully filmed and written scenes in which they fall. They both move through life, or at least the ends of their lives, in mental states that clearly aren't stable or standard, but for different reasons. This is why the forces driving them to their deaths and the consequences of their deaths exist on drastically different spectrums of peace and restlessness. 

I compared these characters because of the prompt I was given, but also because I have such respect for well thought out deaths. I love parallels. It also helps that Jac Schaeffer and Mike Flanagan are two of my major inspirations. If you’ve read all of this, thank you for your time and indulgence, and if you want to talk about anything related I love this stuff.

[simplegeneral]

Oasis, second of her name, daughter of Burn and granddaughter of Oasis, princess of the sandwings, sole heir of Burn...

Oasis had a difficult dragonethood, her mother's shadow was immense. Burn became an overprotective and controlling mother, so often, in a mirror of her mother herself, though, she also had Sandstorm, a stern and happy fatherly figure, just like Char.

She was a warrior, barely a princess. And her only enjoyment was the war games she had with her parents, growing ever ambitious, of course, at her 10 years old, she saught to end the rebellion conducted by Vulture and Blister, who bombed the palace at the year of her hatching in a terror campaign.

The young princess was, of course, followed by Burn, who learned the hardest way that an impulsive mind led to her mother's demise, she would not let happen ever again, not to her own daughter.

As soon as Oasis and her forces breached Vulture's stronghold, she found Blister, who tried to smooth talk her niece to no avail. Quickly running out of options, Blister threw a box with a dragonbite viper at Oasis, who was bitten.

Burn arrived immediately and terrified of what she saw, axed and ripped off her own daughter's limb to prevent the venom from further spreading to her body, carrying her back home as Oasis fainted from blood loss.

Later she would receive a prosthesis of a leg to restore her life to nomalcy the best they could, a sight not uncommon in the post-war sand queendom, where Burn had opened a manufactory to build those for all the war veterans in need.

Oasis fell into silence for a long time afterwards, refusing to even look or listen to her mother, but Burn's character made obviously such thing would not work, as she snarled louder and so she listened.

In her 12th hatchingday, Burn had passed away only a few months before due to an untreatable infection, leaving all but one letter to the new queen of the sandwings:

"Daughter of mine and future queen of the sandwings. Oasis. If you opened this letter, I have passed away, back towards the sands of time, time for Onyx to judge me for who I was and what I did.

Hard as it may have been, I do not depart this world a bloodthirst and bitter dragon, but one ever more hopeful than I ever was. You were the shining beacon of hope I had since you came out of the egg, and in my heart's deepest wishes, I wanted you to know that.

We have not talked much with each other in those last two years, me being sick in bed and you angry at me for what I did to you, but know that I do not regret in the slightest, we had no time for you to seek a healer, I either did that or I would have lost you, and believe me my daughter, your life is far more precious than mine will ever be.

I did so many horrible things, my daughter, that only my death will bring any closure to many souls. But you, you have hatched pure and as a new beginning for all of us, really, if you do not follow my steps, than I am glad, my daughter, I beg you not to, war games are fun, but war is not, it will take everything from you, and when I was there, there was nowhere else left to go but begin anew.

Even if I may be gone, your father still there, old and bulky as ever, he is the most kind and friendly dragon I ever met, a good soul and I know you like him more than me, and I am fine with that, listen to him, please.

And Sunny, please listen to her. I have assigned she was your adviser, she may be annoying at times, but she will brighten your day and guide you towards a more hopeful future, for all of us.

Thank you, my daughter. I know your heart is dark and bitter towards me, that night haunts me as much as it does to you, but if I could tell you one thing face to face, there's healing for it, not of your leg, but of your soul and mind, you can fight it, I know it and you know it too, if I could rise again from the lowest point of my life, you can too.

You can never be free of it, but you can remain yourself despite of it. Would you really tell me this would stop you? Did you stopped participating in our war game events because of it? No, the last two years you were there and we both were happy despite of that.

I hope you see what I mean. We had two delightful years together that would have not happened if you weren't there, with me. You didn't need to talk to me for me to be happy for the simple fact that you were here, alive and recovering.

Rise up and be stronger than I ever was, but also, be wiser than I never could be.

Goodbye, my daughter,

Ex-queen Burn."

[the-morningstar-family]

Considering your... unique situation it might make sense to start a list with names that are an absolute no-go?

Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, probably also no Sara, Adam, any variation of the name Lilly might be confusing and the name of Alastor's "father is also out.

If you don't like Jacob that's probably also a no for Josef, Mary and David.

There are damn many names with heavy bible associations and that's not touching the popes.

So yeah. No Go list might be necessary.

And also, remember to ask Willa what names are burned in their family, you don't want to accidentally trigger any unknown trauma for Felix.

Aaaand it might be worth to check the Goetias names? Probably going to suck for your poor babies if they have one of their more annoying members as a namesake.

Damn, naming royal babies is hard. How did you settle on Charlotte?

Alastor: "Well, the process of elimination works too, just takes longer..."

Lucifer: "A list isn't a bad idea though. It does eliminate quite a few names. Like they said"

Alastor: "How many names can we cross off with the ars goetia?"

Lucifer: "Uhh, wait I have a list!"

The king rummages through some letters, until he holds a slightly glowing scroll. The demon reads it in consideration.

Alastor: "That are 72 names out of the running"

Lucifer: "74, Stolas' wife and their daughter aren't on the list."

Alastor: "And what are their names?"

Lucifer: "Uhhhhh...."

Alastor: "How do you not know this?"

Lucifer, embarrassed: "I haven't been too involved recently..."

Alastor: "Then we should figure that out"

Lucifer: "On it!"

While he types away in his phone- because didn't Ozzie say something about Stolas one time?- Alastor thinks about the other suggestions.

Alastor: "There isn't much to consider on Willa's and Felix' side of the family. Only "April", it was her mother's name. But April didn't have any family besides her daughter. Much like Willa and Felix now."

Lucifer: "Stella and Octavia!"

Alastor, confused: "Mh?"

Lucifer: "The missing names- Apparently Stolas and Stella are divorced now? And uh- their daughter is named Octavia"

Alastor: "Hm. This gives us at least a good idea on what not to choose."

The radio demon starts to copy the goetia names. Then some variations of their own names, the archangel's, his father's name (with a good bit of force), names they already disagreed upon, April, biblical names and variations of Lilly, like suggested. Then, with a smirk, he adds Fluffy.

Lucifer: "Fuck you. I was running out of ideas"

Alastor: "The name speaks for itself, darling. No need to clarify."

He only gets a middle finger in response. Which makes the demon giggle. After he sobered up, he does consider the last question.

Alastor: "How did you agree upon 'Charlotte'? It's a good question"

Lucifer: "Oh hell, we never settled on a name. We fought about it all the time, actually. Until she was born. Somehow we just thought Charlotte, and Charlie, suited her. Aw, just looking at that cute widdle face"

Alastor softens as the angel recounts the memory. Suddenly feeling slightly more confident about finding suiting names.

Alastor: "Perhaps that is not a bad idea"

Lucifer : "Mh? What is?"

Alastor: "We simply wait for them to make their appearance. And along the way we can add names to the name list we dislike."

Lucifer: "... And if we can't find the right ones in time?"

Alastor: "I am sure we can find something we can settle on"

Lucifer: "Well okay - let's do that"

Alastor, smirking: "We can be more creative than doctor Chaim at the very least. Although, Babies A, B and C does have a theme to it."

Lucifer, laughing: "Behold hell! The alphabet!"

A bit of nauseating feeling settles in Alastor's stomach, but not enough to make him go to the toilet. The demon mumbles under his breath.

Alastor: "We are simply joking, darlings"

[nobigsecrets]

H50 Fic Recs - Mary Ann McGarrett

Home again by @bgharison Rating: T, Words: 7,816 No. He was the brother, not WoFat. He was Mary’s brother. No one else. Coda to 5x07

Trapped (in her American circumstance) by verasteine Rating: M (Warnings for Rape/Non-Con, Underage Sex), Words: 2,004 Mary knows her brother. And this is not what Steve does.

All The Reasons (I Can Never Go Home Again) by verasteine Rating: G, Words: 1,534 Mary doesn't mean to miss the phone call that was supposed to tell her of her father's death.

help for the helpless by somehowunbroken Rating: M (Warning for Rape/Non-Con); Words: 1,919 Mary is just glad she can be there for her brother.

不甘寂寞 (buganjimo) by perspi Rating: T; Words: 1,344 Mary spams Steve with instagrams from her flight-attendant travels.

Three Times... by bluflamingo Rating: T, Words: 2,069 Three times being queer brought Steve and Mary closer together

Dynamite with a laser beam by gottalovev Rating: T, Words: 14,353 Mary comes back and takes her place in Steve’s house and in his life, where they learn to be siblings again. Danny and her get along like a house on fire, and Steve finally figures out why it bothers him  so much when Danny gets hurt on a drug bust gone wrong and he realizes that he’s got stronger feelings for his partner than he thought. He only wants the best for the two of them, really, but it’s hard to see Mary and Danny getting closer and closer when he’s dealing with his own unrequited crush.

Sometimes You Just Need a Decoder Ring by kho Rating: T, Words: 2,849 Danny follows Steve into the kitchen and sticks the beers in the fridge. “Actually I’m of the mind that it takes two to tango so I don’t know who started and who fueled but you’re both in this fight, so I’m just trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation so I don’t wind up as collateral damage.”

I See You by @cowandcalf​ Rating: E, Words: 20,139 Steve loved Mary, his younger sister, wholeheartedly. She was always supportive, and they got along great together. But sometimes she could be such a pain in the ass, especially when she used her female tactics to corner Steve, forcing him to spill information about a night at the club where he saw the man of his dreams. Steve remembered blond hair and blue eyes. Since that night his heart beat in an unfamiliar rhythm and his bones ached with yearning. Mary knew which buttons to press to push Steve into the right direction. Steve finally got his shit together. He was on his way to the club, dressed to the nines, looking hot as fuck and with the single goal to find this blond guy, who stole his heart. If only it was that simple.

Where lies the final harbor? by @missslothy​ Rating: M, Words: 48,643 Steve and Danny had finally admitted their feelings for each other just three days before the events of Season 10 Episode 7. Can their new relationship survive the fallout from what happened in Mexico and Doris's death?

Family is Where They Know Your Name by threewalls Rating: T; Words: 2,774 Mary drinks; Steve washes and dries, and looks for words for questions he doesn't know how to ask. It's been less than a decade since he could ask, and Mary's always been a civilian. Steve's gone to the diversity trainings. Until Lynn broke up with him and made it stick, he never thought any of it had anything to do with him. (Doris McGarrett's kids are both queer, and she'd be rolling over in her grave about it.)

My humble contribution:

Family is the anchor (that holds us through life's storms) by @nobigsecrets​  Words: 1,728, Rating: G “Scoot over,” she says and moves to climb into the hammock next to Steve. He makes room for her as best as he can while holding Joanie, it takes some arranging of limbs and by the time Mary is settled comfortably against Steve’s side the hammock is swinging wildly.  “Do you remember when we sat in here as kids?” Mary asks, thinking back to the many happy moments they had together before everything fell apart. Coda to 4x07