#HEY AT LEAST THE CANARY CURSE IS BROKEN

[pinkbear-13]

thank you to this post for giving me brain rot

[theminecraftbee]

Joel turns around. Martyn is standing there. His eyes are a burning red that gives Joel the heebie-jeebies. If anyone would know to be scared, it's Joel! He would! He'd recognize a mad dog if he saw one anywhere!

Anyway, all of that is to say that his high-pitched scream had been totally justified. "Oh my word Martyn what are you doing here?" he says, clutching his hand over his heart, several feet further back than he'd been thirty seconds ago.

Martyn snorts. "Is the sign not for me? Figured there was no one else it could be for."

"The what?"

"The sign."

Joel turns around. Outside his base, the other Mounders have hung a helpful banner: "SORRY EVERYONE YOU LOVE IS DEAD <3".

He'd told them it was kind of rude, hanging that up. Sort of made light of the whole thing, really. His wife and Mumbo and Jimmy had died, guys, don't be idiots about it. Bdubs had loudly told him that he was TRYING to be helpful, Joel, geez, why don't you appreciate his efforts? Pearl had shrugged and said they don't exactly make cards for this kind of thing. Joel's pretty sure they do, actually but...

Sorry everyone you love is dead. Hah.

"My wife is dead, Martyn," Joel says.

"Who, Lizzie or Jimmy?" Martyn says, weirdly dark. "Anyway, my husband's dead, so--"

"Your what?"

"Mumbo and I got married one time. Everyone forgets that for some reason."

Joel has to think about it a while. "Huh."

"Yeah. Anyway, you've still got the other Mounders, huh? Don't know what you're crying about. Thought the sign had to be for me. Thought I'd show up. Get cake. Kill some people. You know how it is."

"If there's a TNT minecart in my base, the first thing I do after I turn red is kill you," Joel says.

"That's not really how it works this time," Martyn says.

"Yeah, well, screw you," Joel says. "Also, they didn't make me any cake. I should ask them for that next. Hah. A cake."

"You know, maybe don't ask for that? Parties tend to go wrong in this game."

"And who's fault is that, huh?"

"Hey, don't look at me! Or, do. Since I'm going to kill everyone, on account of everyone I love being dead and all. Really convenient excuse for murder, that. I should use it more often, if it didn't involve the crippling grief," Martyn says.

"Oh, please. At least you tend to have people to love in the first place," Joel snaps.

"Oh, right, that is your curse, isn't it?" Martyn says. "Sorta broke it last time, but you do tend to get isolated and a bit crazy. Hey, I wonder if we're the ones who traded, actually what with the whole wolf thing."

Joel blinks. "What?"

"Oh, we're all cursed," Martyn says. "After all, They like it better that way. Hey, do you think Jimmy's curse transferred to Lizzie, got cancelled out by the fact Lizzie tends to die stupidly, or got broken? Personally, I'm thinking random fluke, when it comes to canary nonsense."

Joel stares at Martyn. His throat is dry. "What?"

Martyn stares back. "Hey, I'm the mad dog this time," Martyn says. "You probably shouldn't be the one growling."

"Well then, you should stop saying stupid shit," Joel says.

"Stupid? Please. It's obvious everyone is cursed. Nothing to be done about it but to play into the--"

"NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED," Joel shouts, his vision suddenly red and blurry in a way it shouldn't be when he's still on yellow. "NO ONE IS BLUMIN' CURSED. THERE'S NO SUCH THING! YOU'RE JUST, JUST MAKIN' UP REASONS IT ISN'T ALL A TRAGEDY THAT EVERYONE I LOVE IS FUCKING DEAD, MAKING UP REASONS THAT IT--NO ONE IS CURSED! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST HAPPENS! IT JUST FUCKING HAPPENS! AND WOULDN'T IT BE BLUMIN' NICE IF THERE WERE A HIGHER POWER BUT THERE ISN'T SO SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT CURSES!"

He's panting. Martyn is staring at him. He stares back, a snarl on his teeth, the echoes of wolves and of grief, grief, grief, grief playing at the back of his throat.

"Joel?" Martyn says, hesitant.

"My wife is fucking dead. My best friend is fucking dead. One of my new possible best friends is fucking dead. Sorry about your husband, I guess? Get out."

"Bold thing to say to the guy who can kill--"

"I SAID GET OUT!"

Martyn stares at Joel a moment longer, and Joel finds he's not scared of the madness in his eyes at all.

Martyn leaves.

Joel realizes he's crying. The tears turn into giant, ugly sobs. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead. Sorry everyone you love is dead.

"I blumin' hate caring about people," he says to no one at all through choked breaths, and he kicks a rock at the banner for good measure. It pokes a little hole through it and bounces off the dick-shaped tower behind it.

"Someone really should have made both of us a blumin' cake, they should," he says next, and he sits down until Pearl runs over, having heard the shouting. His face is red and his vision is still swimming. She stares at him, gathers him in her arms, and cries with him, and for the life of him, he doesn't know if that's any better.

[gwoongi]

wordless pt.1

jeon jeongguk / reader genre: hitman (john wick?) au, sugar daddy au, fluff, pining, angst rating: mature words: 4.1k warnings: mentions of blood and violence, unconventional relationship, angsty themes, smoking mention a/n: this is jeongguk as john wick because i’m trash and i cant finish one story at a time. these prompts r from here btw :) im gonna do all 50 but im too lazy rn so here’s the first 10 :D

Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears them again.

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Now, it definitely was not a stretch to assume that everything in Jeongguk’s life was indeed unconventional. People didn’t need to understand that what Jeongguk did for work was something that, by the law, was considered unprofessional and inhumane, and so when asked, Jeongguk sufficed for “boss of a company”, and questions weren’t asked. If they were, Jeongguk came up with a slightly more conventional lie, to make up for the reality that was Jeongguk working on the clock, killing nobodies for a bit of cash.

Taehyung, his right-hand man, had expressed how unconventional Jeongguk seemed to be over a dinner in Venice, a little restaurant tucked away unconventionally in a street that did not belong to America. Jeongguk spoke four languages comfortably, and had parents retiring in the Canary Islands. Jeongguk donated money to women’s charities and mental health services, and helped bribe his cousins into Ivy Leagues when racism prevented them from entry. Jeongguk was a Joe-Exotic in the making and owned a rescue black panther named Elio, and had houses across the globe for use when working. And, Jeongguk was dipping his toes into playing house with a sugar baby who was only five years younger than him, of whom he had met in a stakeout which involved the hit being on your brother’s head. Unconventionally, you led him to his target, and afterwards, dined with him in a Thai restaurant.

Things in Jeongguk’s life were far from ordinary, but perhaps it was the denial of mundane comforts that kept Jeongguk going. If he went back to normality, to working a shitty customer service job like when he was seventeen, dumping trash into overflowing piles behind the off-license he worked at, things wouldn’t be the same. Jeongguk would feel alien, like he didn’t belong. At least here, amongst the pain and the bullets and the years worth of trauma packed in his wrinkles (which, yes, if he looks hard enough, he can see some cursing his twenty five year old skin), Jeongguk felt like he sort of belonged. In an unconventional way.

Having met Jeongguk during his line of work, there were difficulties in being Jeongguk’s sugar baby. For one, he always felt guilty for having murdered your brother, even though you heavily supported the hit. Your brother was a jerk, a bully with money, someone who had wronged your entire family, turned off your younger sister’s life support when there was a chance of her survival. Asshole, he deserved it. Secondly, Jeongguk was impractical and irrational and often acted selfishly, meaning he was often out of the country on work, only available in whispers for a few hours and then he was gone, compensating with a few sums of cash.

He tried his best. Jeongguk, despite technicalities including his work and his past and his occasional mean streak, genuinely cared about other people. When he could, he made the effort, otherwise not attempting to make promises to you that he could not keep. Jeongguk knows that he got really lucky when he found you. You didn’t ask questions. Nobody was better for him.

However, Jeongguk was selfish, and broken, and in refusal of fixing what was wrong with him. When it was of convenience, Jeongguk drew comparisons to the last girlfriend he tried to entertain. One who wronged him, and died when he tried to repair everything she had destroyed. Jeongguk carries that with him like the tattoos on his skin, a permanent memory, and something that often disturbs what could be and should be between the both of you.

Jeongguk is worthy of love, and capable of loving. On days where Jeongguk is free to lounge without the guilt of not working, you find it is so easy to love him. But, it can’t be that way. You couldn’t just tell him that. Telling him that you loved him would be inappropriately unconventional. Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Jeongguk over the edge if he hears it again.

(1) Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Jeongguk is in his living room, his right leg bouncing like a spring as he cradles an infant glass of whiskey. His eyes are glazed, yet wide, staring at the Seoul city draped in darkness and neon, and without even looking inside, you know that his brain is spinning, thoughts chaotic and loud.

“Hey,” you call out to him, and his eyes stutter to the left to catch you in the doorway, “I heard you get up. What’s wrong?”

Jeongguk shakes his head gently. “Nothing, baby, go back to bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”

Jeongguk often makes comments without expectancies. You stand in the doorway that connects the living room to the long hall that stems into bedrooms and bathrooms, and watch him for a moment. His whole body vibrates like a speaker, his hands trembling as the glass drains and he reaches for a second, or a third, or maybe a tenth. You want to sigh, without being patronising, but you know that any sign of sympathy is mistaken for that whenever Jeongguk is around to make the judgement.

He looks back to the skyline and frowns, his attention panning from the window to his phone that buzzes blue, but he ignores. Stepping across the cool wooden floorboards, you approach him sleepily and take a seat next to him on the sofa. Neither of you move, but he recognises you’ve moved. He bristles slightly, like it was unexpected.

“You can take your time,” you suggest to him, and his hands ache in his lap as he sets the glass down on the coffee table with a careless thud. He scoffs, devoid of emotion, and dips his head so his chin is near his collarbones. In his lap, those hands shake. “Maybe don’t drink so much tonight.”

“I’m clearing my head,” he insists weakly. Those hands still shake.

Brows creased with a pinch, you swallow the unease and reach for his hands. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything as you do so, enveloping his hands in yours, and so suddenly the shaking ceases. Like trying to block the shakes from reaching his wrists, your hands keep his safe.

“I know,” you understand honestly, because you do know what he’s going through. “How about tea, or something? To calm down, calm down the mess that’s up in there.”

Your chin is on his shoulder, and he smiles softly. “Are you calling me messy?”

“Nah, I’m calling your brain messy,” you reply. “It’s a cruel fucking brain.”

“Hate my brain.”

“Today, we hate it.”

Jeongguk’s head turns slightly so that he can see you, and in his lap, his thumbs brush across your skin.

“Thank you,” Jeongguk says quietly, attempting a smile that doesn’t quite convince. It doesn’t necessarily have to, not tonight anyway. His phone continues to flash like a light show, Taehyung’s name in bold. “Fuck. I’ll take the call, and then I’ll come back to bed, okay?”

You nod, “Mm, okay. Want me to make a drink?”

“I don’t need it,” Jeongguk concludes. “Not today.”

(2) Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

Sometimes Jeongguk wakes up in the night due to nightmares, but tonight, it’s different.

Beside him, you stir uncomfortably and kick his leg for the fourth time. He huffs and looks over, trying to figure out if you’re awake and indignant, or lost in the dream. He settles on the latter when you strain out the name of your brother and his heart swoops with a dull ache.

“You’re just dreaming, baby, come on,” Jeongguk mutters quietly into your ear, holding you in place to calm the thrashing. “He’s not here anymore, I’m here. Y/N.”

It subsides after a few minutes, making it the longest you’ve gone on record. He looks into your sleepy, upset eyes as you break awake and brushes the hair out of your face. He tries to smile for you, and maybe you can’t see in the dark.

“I’ll get you some water,” Jeongguk suggests gently. “Hm? Sweet thing. It’s just a dream.” He says this into your hair in a hug, leaving a kiss on your temple as he breaks. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” you breathe uneasily, and he separates to get a glass of water and returns to find you sleeping again. What relief Jeongguk might have is exhaled as he sets the glass on the bedside table, stroking your hair until he moves away with the sudden realisation that this is not a normal exchange.

Before Jeongguk decides to leave again, he makes sure the bed is made and that you are safe; he tucks the duvet in tightly and presses a kiss to your forehead before grabbing his coat by the front door and leaving your apartment, one tucked in the city so far that Jeongguk finds it a hassle to visit.

(3) Travelling long distances just to see them.

For three days now, you have been in Colmar, and Jeongguk is beginning to feel lonely. It had been his idea to send you away, when the heat on his long, long fued with a rival colleague threatened your safety. In return, you got a new apartment that Taehyung had found closer to Jeongguk’s own when your address got leaked, and Colmar could be considered a vacation if you pretended for long enough.

With tensions cool and the coast somewhat clear, Jeongguk picks the skin around his fingernails as a distraction before deciding that enough was enough. He missed you, and missed how you were always around for him when he needed you most. This is what drives him to jumping on a plane in his company’s name, and flying to France.

A small boat passes underneath the bridge you are standing on, and your hands dig into the barrier as you arch to smile at the tourists beneath. One catches a glimpse of your denim skirt and cherry print blouse in the sunshine and extends his hat with a wave, and you wave back. France is nothing like Seoul, and is indeed warm and fruitful and unique. The sun is hot, the sky is clear, and the streets are filled with an atmospheric buzz of friendliness, the smell of coffee and some food you don’t know yet entrapping your senses.

“Madame, je peux vous prendre en photo?”

Hearing the voice, you turn your body left and prepare to face the tourist, but instead you are welcomed with the sight of Jeongguk dressed in black, sunglasses sliding down his nose with a smile. He does hold a camera in his hands, although teasingly.

“Oui,” you quip, posing cutely and Jeongguk takes a photograph anyway, to humour the moment, to print when he gets back to Seoul. You join his laughter as he peers at the photograph and he walks without looking up towards you.

“When did you get here?” you ask him, a round of laughter from the little boat making you turn to stare at them with a giggle.

“Bout an hour ago,” Jeongguk replies, and he shuts off the camera and puts it in his coat pocket. It’s only a small camera, probably cost him a crumb to buy from a vintage store. He meets your eyes with a comfortable smile and rounds in, pressing your lower back against the bridge barrier and circling your arms around you. Carefully, then, he kisses you, tasting the suncream on your skin as his lips wander from yours to the skin around your face.

“Miss me?”

“Terribly,” Jeongguk responds. “I am so bored when you’re not around. You always have something to do, always have something to say.”

You hum in response. “I’m glad I’m of some entertainment for you.”

“Oh, for sure,” agrees Jeongguk. “I don’t think I’ve used my brain so often when I’m away from work as much as I do when I’m with you. Did you know that you’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met?”

“Wow,” you exclaim with a smile. “Hire me.”

“Ha!” he remarks, kissing you again and taking your hand in his. He moves, back in the way you came. “Over my dead body.”

(4) Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

“You.”

“Not now, Y/N, I’m working,” Jeongguk replies non committedly. He fists his hair.

“Not up for discussion right now,” you huff, and he has the nerve to glare at you which only makes you uncomfortably angry. “You haven’t eaten in fourty eight hours, and I’m not about to be held responsible for your death when you die of hunger, so get your ass in the kitchen before I dump this food over your stupid head.”

He challenges you. “You’re brave talking to somebody who could destroy your life like that.”

“Do it, I literally have nothing to lose,” you answer. “Please eat something. I made it with love and care.”

Jeongguk relents, sighing at his paperwork but nonetheless moving away from his home office and following you like a child towards the direction of the kitchen. He feels bad, you know he feels bad, and he circles his arms around your body as you walk, stumbling into the space of the kitchen and smelling the familiar aroma of pork rice stew. Alas, he sees the bowl steaming in his spot at the table and his eyes follow you as you hum and set start to washing the dishes.

“Y/N-”

“No words, just eating,” you instruct. “Bone apple tit.”

He grins, then, and takes a seat. “You know that’s not the phrase, right?”

“Tell that to Twitter,” you sigh.

(5) Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

Jeongguk prefers to see you when he doesn’t have work the next day, because leaving when you’re asleep is an asshole move in any dictionary. So, when one of his men phones him at four in the morning and relays the horror that someone’s died on his property, Jeongguk has to fight the demons that almost convince him to hand the job over to somebody who gives a fuck about the intruder stuck on his barbed fence.

He gets up, anyway.

Next to him, in the bed that belongs to you because this is your new apartment, Jeongguk stares down at you and feels a tug in his stomach. Guilt, it follows him everywhere like a ghost.

Before he leaves, he likes to give you a little kiss for the morning, so the tingling sensation reminds you that despite being an asshole and leaving without properly saying goodbye, he still gives several shits about you, and will be back when he can be.

(6) Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

Jeongguk wants to hang Taehyung for making him remember the reasons why you had to move across the city to a new apartment.

It had, of course, been Jeongguk’s fault, and when the notification came from an exhausted worker in his line of work that the alarm system in your apartment had been triggered for an intruder, Jeongguk remembers all he saw was red.

The front door was forced open, a body indent in the wood and the front porch ransacked and littered with shards of glass and bullets. Inside was no prettier, with mess scattered everywhere and photos smashed on the floors. The carpets were stained with red that Jeongguk prayed was just wine, the glass coffee table in two pieces and a knife covered in red on the floor. Jeongguk and his men, along with the few police officers Jeongguk could actually trust in this god-forsaken hellhole, noticed that the blood belonged to one of the intruders who lay dead on the stairs.

Nobody knows how Jeongguk got through the apartment so fast, and why, without any hesitation, he murdered the remaining intruders without suggesting questioning and torture. That was his go-to when it rarely concerned you. He wanted those stupid enough to even try and go after you to really fucking regret it as he picked off fingernails and made them suffer for hours or days. This time he just killed, and moved onwards, calling your name like a mantra.

Jeongguk could have cried when you emerged, petrified, from inside one of the closets. Upon seeing you, Jeongguk collapsed his gun on the floor and stepped towards you protectively, pulling you in tightly for a hug. Sobbing into his neck, you hugged him tighter, feeling finally safe when his hand held the back of your head, like you were a precious thing that was of value.

You were of the highest value to Jeongguk.

“Fuck you,” Jeongguk barks suddenly, and Taehyung shrugs and exits the office. All he had asked was if he loved you.

(7) Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

There might be the assumption that Jeongguk comes home with more bruises than you do. Which is true, technically, and there’s no hesitation from your end in nursing them to a comfortable recovery.

On rare occasion, Jeongguk comes home and finds you exhibiting a new purple blob on your skin. Like today. 

Jeongguk hasn’t seen you in two days, and when he lets himself into your apartment with the key he has glued to him at all times, he follows the silence and light to the bathroom. You sit on the edge of your bathtub, gently rubbing cream on your knee in little circles.

“What happened here?” he asks quickly, and you continue rubbing with your tongue poking out between your lips.

“You’ll laugh, don’t ask,” you mutter.

“Hey, I won’t laugh,” Jeongguk says. He rests his weight against the doorframe, “You open the front door the wrong way again?”

Ha! You laugh humourlessly. “Worse!” You look up at him sadly, “I tripped in the parking lot carrying my groceries. It’s on camera and everything, I want to die.”

Jeongguk pokes the inside of his mouth to resist laughing. “Well, fuck. That’s your leg ruined.”

“I know,” you pout. “Good thing you’re my sugar daddy- wanna pay for cosmetic leg surgery?”

“I like your bruised up legs,” says Jeongguk.

“Me too, but not these ones.”

“Bruh, that’s enough cream on your skin,” Jeongguk exclaims, moving forward to snatch the cream from your hands. “More is not better. Come on, you’re okay.”

“It hurts.”

“Boohoo,” he sighs. You don’t move. “Ugh, whatever. Come’re.”

Jeongguk drops the cream tube onto the sink but it clatters into the bowl. He’ll move it later if he remembers to, and he pretends it’s hard to pick you up off the bathtub and carries you swiftly out of the bathroom and into the living room. Things have barely moved since he last came to visit; the swarms of paper still invade your coffee table and your laptop is on sleep mode by a half-empty coffee cup filled with hot chocolate, because he knows your standing on coffee. Everything is a lot messier now that you’ve decided you want to go back to school, but at least Jeongguk knows it keeps you busy when he’s away.

“Oh,” he says suddenly, as you’re sat down with one leg up around him still. He pokes at a spot on your leg and you squirm, “there’s another one.”

You peer to look, “Oh, yeah, that one’s you.”

“Oh.” He pauses, “Pretty, though.”

You huff like a little baby and he dares you with raised eyebrows. That keeps you silent and Jeongguk moves his body at an angle to the right, sweeping to kiss the bruise better, the bruise that he made a few nights ago with tender love and care.

“All better,” he assures.

“It feels better already.”

“Mm. Magic.”

(8) Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

“So, I was at a school fayre today.”

“Really?” Jeongguk sits with his laptop on his legs, and your legs are tangled around his body like some sort of jungle maze. He rarely works on his bed, not unless the work is sudden and he can’t help it. You’ve just come in, dived on the bed and claimed his waist as something to squeeze your legs around.

“Yep. Like, one of those little craft things where students sell their shit and make money from it. You know, supporting local artists! It’s really cute, if I was good at something I’d have participated.”

Jeongguk thinks of things you’re good at, and there’s a lot. “Aw. There’s always next year.”

“Yeah,” you reason. “Anyway- point is, is that I got you something.”

Jeongguk stills for a second, glancing over his right shoulder to see you, “Me?”

“Yep. You.”

“What did you get?” he asks, and then he’s back to checking blueprints.

You untangle your legs and slide off the bed, retreating to your bag slung across the room by the bedroom door. From here, you take out a small little pin-badge and when you’re sat next to Jeongguk again, you fiddle with it until it catches his attention.

“What’s this?” asks Jeongguk.

“It’s a badge of honour,” you claim, and you slip it into his palms. He fingers the front when he examines it, reading the little words of “Number One Dad” and he stares up at you. “Like it?”

“It’s for me?” he asks again.

“Yeah. You can wear it and like, I don’t know, think of me,” you shrug.

Jeongguk thinks for a moment. Even though it’s stupid, and cliche and a little bit embarrassing, he still thinks it’s funny and thoughtful.

“Want me to wear it to work?” he asks you.

“Oh, absolutely,” you encourage. “I’ll get Taehyung an uncle badge if he gets pissy.”

“Hey, you’re mine and he’s not allowed a relationship to you, no matter what definition,” Jeongguk pouts. “He wants a sugar niece, well...he’ll have to look somewhere else.”

You gape. “Wow. Who thought you had it in you to be so possessive.”

“Please, with a pussy like that of course I’m possessive,” he teases. He’s joking.

“My power,” you sigh anyway, and jump off the bed claiming that you’re hungry. Jeongguk looks at the badge again and pops it in his breast pocket before he loses it and regrets it.

(9) Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

Jeongguk’s bored out of his brain.

He has no idea how you can be so fascinated by this stupid game where you’re essentially in debt, but he still sits and watches you tour him around this weird island that is inhabited by ducks and an ugly gorilla villager dressed in pink. And to think that he had a part to play in all of this, because his bank account definitely helped pay for this Nintendo Switch and game.

“Do you like my beach?” you ask him. It’s literally just sand and one coconut tree, and a few shells by the water. Oh, there’s a beach chair on there too, but it makes little difference. “I’m poor, I can’t afford furniture yet.”

“Can’t you just make it?”

“I can, but I’m sick of making axes to collect wood,” you explain with a grudge against the fact that tools now break in this Animal Crossing game. Jeongguk hums like he’s invested, and he tries to be, because he cares about you too much to unintentionally hurt your feelings by displaying his crippling disinterest.

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Can I show you my hybrid flower garden?”

He sighs. “Yeah, you wanted to show me all of your island, right?”

You nod enthusiastically. “Once you’ve had a tour, I can make you a profile and you can play too. You can live next door to me!”

“Why can’t we share a house?” Jeongguk presses.

“Because I don’t think it works like that, babe,” you confess. “Anyway. Here’s my garden.”

(10) Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

He’s tired. You’re tired.

The radio plays quietly updating Seoul on the fires that spread across the city today, and Jeongguk smells like smoke and salt. He keeps his head down as he eats his meal, something he brought home with him to make up for the fact that he’s been absent for almost a week now. You have so many things to say and he has so many things he needs to say to make up for everything, but nothing is said tonight.

You know he’s having a hard time, because Jeongguk’s been smoking again. He smoked on the balcony earlier, and once again in the bedroom. There are now ashtrays around your own apartment, and you don’t even smoke. Jeongguk takes a drink of bourbon and swallows it dry.

You look up at him from across the table, not wanting to press the issue when you know it’ll end in an argument, and then sex to make up for it. You’re both too tired to fuck today, too tired to speak. Just being in each other's company is enough for tonight. The only words he says are goodnight and something you don’t catch as you’re drifting off to sleep. Jeongguk’s awake all night, the fires burn until early hours, and the smoke smell is still there in the morning even when he isn’t.

[nxrthmizu]

[Broken Hearts and Empty Ones]- Daminette Songfic: ‘The Only Exception’, ft. Paramore

---

When I was younger

I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind

Damian crouched outside the door of the office, hearing Bruce’s muffled sobs echoing softly in the secluded area of the manor. The fact that Bruce was crying was nerve-wracking enough- But crying over a woman? That was something else- Especially since that woman was his mother. 

He broke his own heart

And I watched

As he tried to reassemble it

Damian watched as his father kept a straight face at breakfast the next morning, the cries and tears of last night only a distant memory- Perhaps even a dream. He watched the way Bruce looked at Tim and Stephanie with that wistful spark in his eyes. He watched the way tears- Not happy tears, but broken-hearted tears- Gathered in his father’s eyes when Dick and Barbara got married.

And my momma swore

That she would never let herself forget

When Damian was still young, he remembered how his mother would put on the cold, uncaring expression on despite the fact she just caught the title of ‘Gotham Playboy Bruce Wayne Caught With (---)’ on the first page of the latest news. 

She raised him, telling him that no one was trustable, that giving out his heart would only result in it getting broken. 

And that was the day that I promised

I'd never sing of love

If it does not exist, 

She’d made him promise, she said: “Don’t you ever let love be your weakness.” and Damian had swore, Damian had squeezed every ounce of affection out of his system, had made sure he’d never develop a crush on anyone.

but darlin'

You are, the only exception

The first day he’d met her in college, he’d scoffed at the sight of a weak, frail girl- Clearly, this was someone who gave her heart away too easily- And got it returned, broken. 

You are, the only exception

But the next day, she’d brought him a paper bag of macarons and she’d told him to eat up. And then, out of sheer curiosity, he asked why she’d let her heart get broken. She took one look at him, and told him that his heart was as empty as hers was broken, and then pushed the paper bag closer to him. 

You are, the only exception

He’d been offended at first, and refused to talk to her. He’d given her the cold shoulder, telling himself it was better to have an empty heart than a broken one. But even though he’d ignored her, brushed her aside, and spat at her about keeping to her own business, without fail, everyday, he’d have a bag of fresh macarons on his table. 

There was even one day when he thought she’d stopped making macarons, but later, when he was at the library, studying, she’d dropped by, setting a bag of macarons on his table, walking away without another word. And although he didn’t want to admit it, he ate all of the macarons (Only because they were good and it was a pity to throw them away). 

You are, the only exception 

Then, after that, he’d find a bag of fresh, toasty macarons inside the mailbox of his hostel, everyday. But on a faithful Friday, two weeks after she’d told him his heart was empty- He found a sticky note on his bag of macarons. It read: Broken hearts take time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend. 

One part of him scoffed at how cringey it was, how naive she was. But another part of him pocketed the note, another part of him held the note to his heart in the dark, and smiled like a teenager in love. 

---

Maybe I know, somewhere

Deep in my soul

That love never lasts 

If she was being honest, Marinette saw it coming. From the day she’d asked him out, to the day he broke it off, she’d always knew that he was too good for her, and that her love would never be enough to tie him down. 

And we've got to find other ways

To make it alone

But keep a straight face

She’d refused to be the girl who spent hours crying over her breakup, but that didn’t mean she didn’t shed a few tears while watching romantic movies, all alone in the apartment that she had spent so much time in with him. 

And I've always lived like this “You can keep it,” He said, tossing the keys of their apartment to her, his arm around his new, smirking girlfriend, who looked as proud as the cat who got the canary. 

She’d caught the keys with shaking hands, dripping tears, and a broken heart.  Keeping a comfortable, distance After one week of mourning the silence in the apartment, she got herself together. She made designs, she listened to breakup songs, she attended college while earning money off commissions. 

And up until now

Once in a while, she’d find something that was his, and then think: Wow, he’s been gone for three months now. 

I had sworn to myself 

“I’m happy,” She said, a sad smile on her face as her friends got engaged, one by one. 

that I'm content

“I’m happy,” She told her parents, a bright smile on her lips, a heavy weight jerking on her chest as she glanced at her mother’s wedding ring. 

With loneliness “I’m happy,” She whispered, sitting alone in a quiet apartment, knowing that the rest of her friends were shopping for wedding gowns. 

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

She cried and screamed when she found a framed photo of her and him, six months ago, his arm around her waist and matching, in-love smiles on their faces. 

But, you are, the only exception

When she looked at him, the new boy in her college class, she saw- Nothing. There was no love, no hate, no joy, no despair. And for some reason, a voice in her head told her that yes, she was going to help him. 

You are, the only exception

She picked up the spatula, hesitating, remembering all the times she baked home-made pastries for him until the day that she found the pastries she’d packed for him to eat at work in the trash can, all of them untouched. She shook her head, and told herself no, she would never again associate the thought of baking with him.

You are, the only exception

Everyday, without fail, she packed macarons for him, and everyday, she found her heart slowly, slowly piecing itself back together. And every morning, she found herself waking up with a smile, getting up to gather her ingredients and make more fresh macarons for him. 

You are, the only exception

It went to the point where she gained the courage to put a sticky note on his bag of macarons, and as she was writing, she glanced up, catching view of herself in the mirror. Her eyes had stopped being sunken; The dark circles beneath were gone; And most of all- A soft, genuine smile was stretched across her lips. 

---

I've got a tight grip on reality

Damian decided enough was enough. He asked around for her apartment address, and on a Saturday morning, he waited for her, right outside her door. 

But I can't let go of what's in front of me here

Oh, she’d been surprised, alright. Once the shock wore off, she’d smiled sweetly at him, and then Damian realised, as he looked at her, that she’d mended her heart. Sure, you could still see the little flaws and cracks in her once-full heart, but somehow, she’d gathered the million shatters of her heart and then stuck them back together. 

“Hey...?” She greeted unsurely, and he noted the recycled bags in her hand. “Good morning.” 

He nodded in response, his tongue absolutely tied. He fiddled with her sticky note inside his pocket, and gestured with his other hand for her to go on with her day. He was grateful that she didn’t ask any questions about why he was following her. The two walked to the subway, took three stops down, and emerged on a busy street. After another bit of a walk, they stopped at the grocery store. 

“So, why did you follow me to the grocery store?” She asked, arms crossed. 

He only shrugged and gestured for her to go on. He carried the basket as she picked up her usual ingredients, eyeing Damian with a wary glance. Flour, almond ground, meringue. When she was done, she went over to take the basket from him, but he held on firmly. She raised an eyebrow but never said anything as they made their way to the paying counter. When she was about to take out her purse to pay, he gave the cashier his credit card. 

When she protested, he had said: “The least I can do is pay for the ingredients.” She went quiet, and then everything made sense. 

On the way back to the subway station, he had insisted on carrying the bags like the gentleman he was. Sure- He might’ve never had a crush on a girl before, but Bruce and Alfred made sure he was raised right. 

I know you’re leaving in the morning, when you wake up

“You know, you’re really incredible.” He said, smiling at her. 

“Oh?” The corner of her mouth lifted. “How so?” 

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream, oh

He took out the sticky note from his pocket, and the shock on her face was something he would never forget. “Remember this?” The note was wrinkled and stained- It was pretty obvious that he had opened it and re-folded it many, many times. “You said ‘A broken heart takes time to fix, but an empty heart takes affection to mend’.” 

She nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going. “You’re really incredible, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” He repeated. “In under two weeks, you managed to fix both a broken heart and an empty one.” 

They stopped walking, and she stared at him. 

You are, the only exception

”You actually listened to what I said.” She said, finally. “I didn’t think you would.”

You are, the only exception

He shrugged. “I thought I’d never fall in love, either, but look where I am now.” He smiled softly. “You really are something else.” 

You are, the only exception

She blushed. 

You are, the only exception

“You have to promise me something, though.” He put on a serious face. “Promise me you’ll never stop making macarons for me.” 

She hit him playfully, and then Damian knew in that instant, his empty heart had been mended. 

You are, the only exception

On a Friday evening, as she returned from the campus library, Marinette glimpsed something sticking out of her apartment mailbox. She opened it cautiously, afraid that it was a prank. A paper bag sat quietly inside, a little letter lying next to it. She peered into the paper bag, letting out a delighted squeal when she spied a container with disfigured-looking cream puffs. 

You are, the only exception

The letter, which she opened later in her apartment, read: This was my first attempt at making cream puffs. I know they probably aren’t the best payment to you, especially since your macarons always look perfect and let’s not mention you fixed my ‘empty heart’ (Your words, not mine). So... If the cream puffs aren’t good enough of a repayment, could I possibly make it up to you with a date? Tomorrow night, 6pm? Sincerely, your-once-empty-hearted-boy, Damian Wayne. 

You are, the only exception

Three months later, she’d decided that the apartment was still a little painful to live in, and after selling it off, both she and Damian had put together the money that they had from doing commissions and working at a cafe respectively, and they’d bought a little apartment not too far from the college. 

You are, the only exception

One evening, two years after they’d graduated- She’d dressed up nicely to go on a date- He’d said ‘dress extra nice’ in his text, then added: ‘don’t worry too much, you’d look good in whatever you pick’. Once the taxi had dropped her off, she looked around the lavender field that Damian had instructed her to go to- face brightening when she saw her beloved once-empty-hearted boy. 

It was difficult not to squeal as he got on one knee, taking a velvet box out of his back pocket. Both of them were shaking with emotions, and Damian hadn’t even gotten the first word out and he was already getting teary. Marinette was seconds from sobbing out of happiness. 

“Marinette,” He took her hand, his voice shaking. “When we first met, you told me I was as empty-hearted as your were broken.” Damian swallowed. “And even after I snapped at you, brushed you off, you still made those macarons for me.” Both of them shared a teary laugh. “And under two weeks, you fixed both your broken heart and my empty one. So,” He choked, his heart nearly bursting from the pressure. “Will you let me be your once-empty-hearted-boy forever, and let me marry you?” 

“Yes,” Marinette laughed, tears dripping down her cheeks. “A thousand times yes!” 

And I'm on my way to believing

Damian, standing at the altar with his father and brothers next to him, couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Just because this one girl in his college class had looked at him and decided that she was going to help fix his heart, he was getting married. Bruce, for once, didn’t look broken-hearted at a wedding as Selina smiled proudly from the front row seat. 

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing.

Marinette, in her beautiful, white ballgown, arm-in-arm with her father, bit her lip, trying not to cry and ruin her makeup. In their relationship, Damian was wrong about one thing- Marinette didn’t fix her broken heart on her own. Damian was the one who mended her broken heart- The thought of Damian eating her macarons- And when he told her to promise to make those macarons for him for the rest of their lives- That, was the very moment that Marinette’s heart blossomed again. 

They were each other’s exceptions. 

---

I am not kidding you I CRIED WHILE REREADING THIS that is how emotional i am people and whoop am i getting a hold of my procrastination! I wrote a chapter of lord bug robin and kitty noir- And it was a mighty long chapter, too, and then i wrote this. Whoaaaaa i did a lot of writing for one day~ I’ve been writing since like, after lunch, and now, it’s almost six (Where i’m from it’s almost six) and i’ve been writing for like... Six hours. *claps self on back and gives self reward sticker* and if i tagged you and you didn’t want to be tagged I'm sowy :( i just copied the tag lists from my lord bug and hogwarts au... Sowy if you didn’t want to be tagged... And I'm a hundred percent sure that some people were tagged twice... Anyways love y’all <3

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[antiquechampagne]

Chapter 25 - Falling

Hancock was sharing an early morning smoke break with a bleary-eyed Piper by the embers of the fire pit when Nate finally rounded the corner of the main building with a full rucksack in hand.

“What the FUCK?!” ricocheted across the Slog, shattering the peaceful morning stillness. From inside the building, several groggy moans arose from those still trying to sleep off their hangovers.

Nate stormed back into view, his face reddened with anger as he scanned around for the culprit. He locked on to Hancock. Hancock unsuccessfully tried to stifle a snicker and he snuffed his butt out on a nearby table.

Nate’s accusatory finger preceded him to the fire pit. “HANCOCK!” he shouted. “What the hell did you do to my armor!? It looks like a fucking tinker toy!”

Hancock put up his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, brother, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” Nate’s eyes narrowed as he saw the yellow paint on Hancock’s out turned palm. Hancock shrugged. “I may have helped a bit, but I only cleaned up the paint job… but it wasn’t my idea.”

Nate turned and marched towards the building. “PAYNE!” He stomped through the common room, heading for her cot. He brushed aside several ghouls grumbling protests and dodging more than one pillow tossed in his direction.

Payne was curled up facing the wall. As Nate neared, he saw in her limp arms loosely clutching a disembodied canary yellow horse limb. Taking her shoulder, he roughly shook her awake.

“Wake up, Picasso! You have some explaining to do!”

Payne opened her eyes to a world that swam around her. The morning light pierced her hungover brain. Holy hell! She thought, Nate’s voice lost to the pulsing between her ears. It took a moment to focus enough to finally understand what Nate was shouting at her.

“What… what are you talking about?” she stammered after sitting up, still clutching the metal leg.

“Outside. Now.” He ordered.

Payne tried to find her helmet by feeling around with and hand by her feet, her eyes closed and head stock still. Movement was not her friend right now. She started to curse as she groped blindly when something metal rolled into her grasp, kicked by an unseen force. Looking up, she found Hancock looming over her, his red coat abase in the mix of morning sun and alcohol fueled light sensitivity.

“Better get that on quick…. Cause you’re in trouble!” He baited her, sounding like a tattletale in the schoolyard. He was trying hard to reign in a devilish smirk.

A gruff “Shut up” was all Payne could manage as she shoved her helmet on and tottered sluggishly outside. As she rounded the corner trailed by Hancock and was confronted by Nate. He stood, arms cross standing in front of his now obnoxiously yellow power armor. Another ghoul close by, hunched over and closely examining the armor. He stood up and whipped his brow with a dark orange scarf that hung around his neck.

“If you fucked up my armor, Payne, I will make you personally go out scavving today to find a replacement!” He turned to the ghoul. “What’s the damage, Arlen?”

“You won’t believe this, Nate.” He said. “These modifications… they actually augment the capabilities of the armor! See here? Those gears mesh damn near perfectly to increase the torque ratios of the powerlift system. I think they will actually make you move quicker.” He moved to another vantage point, putting his hand on the knee of the machine. “And here, these pistons added to the knee joint, they should add more power to the extension stroke. They should let you jump higher.” Arlen turned to Payne. “You did all this last night?”

Payne could barely follow what Arlen said, both with her pounding headache and lack of mechanical knowhow.

“Huh? Torque what?”

Hancock could no longer contain a fit of laughter. Nate was slack jawed.  Stunned silence, he looked incredulously at Payne and then back to her work.

Arlen faced Payne. “At least you found the pile of broken bits, not my good stash! I have to find another supply of yellow paint though… good job kid.” He patted her on the shoulder as he went back to tinkering in his little shed.

Hancock, finally recovered, clutched his aching sides. “Let’s get you some breakfast, Master Mechanic. I’ll have to remember to tell Fehr to hide all the art supplies and monkey wrenches next time we throw a party!” He started giggling again. “I don’t think Charlie would take too kindly to an upgrade!” 

 The morning dragged on slowly. Nate tested out his new power armor, begrudgingly agreeing that it performed better than anything he had tried in the past. It was well past noon when a quiet lunch brought everyone together again. Nate and Strong had a few more hours of preparation to complete before heading back to Diamond City, dropping Piper off before heading into the Glowing Sea. Hancock, on the other hand, was anxious to be on the road again. After doing a raucous round of goodbyes, Payne and Hancock were traveling through the Commonwealth, lead only by Hancock’s sense of direction.

They made good time, even with Hancock occasionally getting jabbed after taunting Payne about her extracurricular activities. Hancock was on point in front of Payne, looking back over his shoulder about to rib her again when he missed the edge of the rocky outcropping and roughly tumbled down the side. Payne quickly scrambled after him. She helped him right himself at the bottom of the hill as he dusted himself off, assuring her he was only a bit bruised, and no worse for wear.

“Maybe you should keep your eyes on the road instead of running your…” Payne was cut off by hoarse growl. Hancock froze. Out of the corner of her eye, Payne could make out a hulking silhouette. She turned slowly, looking down the slope she saw a yao guai reared up from its radstag carcass meal, it’s snarling muzzle red and bloody. Hancock, his eyes never wavering, reached for his shotgun on his back.

Payne put her hand on the barrel of the gun, gently pushing it down. With a finger to her lips, she wordlessly told him to quietly sit still. Hancock watched in shock as Payne slowly stood up, drawing the angry yao guai away from him. She was remarkably calm, her jaw set but the rest of her strangely serene. The hulking animal charged, but Payne stood unmoving before it. Hancock almost lost his nerve and took a shot before the beast stopped just a few feet from Payne and sniffed the air. Confused, it pawed at the ground. Payne reached out her hand and inched forward slowly. She didn’t even waver when it grunted a fierce warning before she touched the patchy skin of its forehead. Hancock’s mouth fell open. The creature seemed to calm at her touch. It let out a few staccato huffs, before returning to its meal. Without looking away, she motioned to Hancock to move along and out of sight. She joined him a few minutes later as him leaned against half buried bathtub.

“You are just the gift that just keep giving!” he shook his head in disbelief. “Spill the beans! What was that?”

Payne tried futilely to rub her aching temples through her helmet. Her head pounded worse than that morning’s hangover. She was realizing with a bit of dread that she may have overreached herself, particularly given her state earlier in the day. “Sometimes I can get a feel for things. We surprised her as much as she surprised us. That, mixed with the fact she felt she needed to defend her meal…” Her head reeled and she faltered. Hancock stood, giving her a bit of support as she steadied herself. “Sorry. That takes a lot out of me. Mind if we rest of a minute?” He guided her down to the lip of the tub.

After a minute she continued. “I bet you didn’t even see her cub, did you?”

Shock registered on Hancock’s face again. “No, I didn’t, and I count myself as a pretty observant guy.” He studied her aching frame. “You going to be alright?”

Payne nodded her head. “I just need a bit of a breather.” She let out a small sigh. “Sometimes you can just read an animal, know if it’s really out for blood… and sometimes just being calm is enough to send it on its way. It doesn’t always work.” She took a few more breaths. “That trick never works on cazadors. Thank god you don’t have any of those bastards out here.”

“What’s a cazador?”

Payne huffed a chuckle. “Hell beasts, as far as I am concerned. Giant flying wasp things…” She spread her arms as wide as they could go. “Wing span about that size. Fast. Hyper aggressive. Skin tough as carbon steel and territorial. They normally travel in groups and will swarm anything and everything in their path. Oh, and they have a poison stinger that would makes a black bloatfly feel like a puppy bite. Not one of the things I miss about the Mojave.”

“You can’t do that calm trick to people?” Hancock asked.

“Nope. People are a whole different animal, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Well, I’m glad it worked. I don’t think I could find another body guard on such short notice out here.”

After a few moments, they set off again… a little more reserved. They barely made it into the outskirts of the city before night fell. The duo forced a door of a small abandoned apartment building and headed inside. After a quick sweep of the silent decaying lobby, they set up camp in the cleanest corner. Payne’s head had returned to normal, but she was still glad to be stopping for the night. A few hours of decent sleep would make the last leg back to Goodneighbor through the danger-filled city streets easier. Her muscles were weary and aching from the last few day’s exertions. Neither of them felt like cooking, so they quietly munched on a light meal of radroach jerky and cereal before decided Hancock would take first watch.

Payne settled onto a dusty couch and had just laid her head down when they heard the first scream. It pealed over and over again, echoing off the walls.  Their nerves now on edge and guns drawn, they slowly narrowed the source of the sound down to a half obstructed stairwell. Hancock motioned up with the muzzle of his shotgun. Cautiously, they crawled over the tumble of desks and inched up the dark concrete steps, trying to stay as silent as possible. Hancock quickly looked around the second floor while Payne covered the stairs, the gut curdling wails grew louder. They approached the third floor, inching along the shadows. A burning barrel sat in the large space where several apartment walls had collapsed, the flames throwing dancing light into the hallway and down the stairs. Inside, by the barrel, sat two figures calmly engaged in conversation, their faces covered by coarse metal helmets framed by jagged metal wings. Across the room third hooded figure leaned over a prone figure strapped to a dining table. As they watched, the hooded figure steadily flayed the flesh from the chest from their noisily convulsing victim. Somehow the cheerful brightly striped stockings of the victim made the scene even more grotesque.

“Hey Jimmy, do you want my ball gag for that guy? I’m getting a headache over here!” she yelled over the screaming. She turned to her compatriot by the fire and snickered. “I wonder if those Pack fuckers are this loud in the sack, too!” The raider next to her cackled.

Payne pulled out here rifle, motioning to Hancock to concentrate on the two by the fire as she set up her line on the butcher. Glancing back at Hancock, he pulled out a grenade and readied it. Payne smiled and nodded in agreement at his choice, hunkering down behind the hallway wall. Tactically, explosives aren’t really the best option for such close quarters fighting, but these psychos didn’t deserve such practicality, in her mind. Payne lined up her shot. When she heard the pin slide out, she held her breath and fired.

The butcher’s head pitched forward as the bullet struck, slumping him over the table and across his prey. The other two jumped up, reaching for their weapons when the grenade landed at their feet, exploding with a concussive boom, sending pieces of them flying.

Hancock had had enough time to cover his ears, but Payne’s hands were still holding her rifle when the grenade detonated. Her ears rang as Hancock popped his head into the doorway, turning back with a smile and a nod. She could barely hear his words, but she gathered there was nothing left moving in the room. He moved confidently into the apartment, already scanning to anything useful to pocket. Raiders were normally good for some chems in the least.

Payne stood slowly, quickly checking her gun before putting the safety back on. Her ears started to recover, but the painful ringing slowed her gait. She was taken by complete surprise when a nearly invisible hand shimmered into existence over her mouth. In her shock, she nearly missed the sting of the knife slicing into her lower back. Almost immediately her knees buckled. Her vision dimmed as her blood pressure plummeted. She tried to call out, to fight back, but she seemed to float and fall at the same time. Time and motion froze… like the moment before falling, a body suspended indefinitely, before gravity inevitably kicks in and painfully pulls it towards the ground.

The foreign hands guided her to the ground, Payne’s arms still out stretched, grabbing at the image of Hancock wavering in front of her. Right before the whole world fell away into blackness, she heard a toxicly sweet southern voice chime into her ear, somehow both intimately close and extremely distant.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your little ghoul-friend will be joining you soon enough. You just take a little nap now.”

[childoftimeandmagic]

Shanghaied to New Orleans

Not super late today, but still later than I thought I would get this uploaded. So here is my contribution for Klaroline AU Week, Day 6 Canon-ish AU. This is a post-canon reunion between our favorite Blonde vampire and a surly grumpy Hybrid. 

Running a school was work, Caroline was proud of her school and in the haven, she’d turned it into.  Running it for 400 years without the semblance of a vacation or taking a break though was starting to take its toll. Sighing she ran a hand through her hair and leaned back in her chaise. The school had been her shelter more than for her students. Lizzie had said that in their last face-time when she was surprised that her youngest was getting married to her girlfriend of 150 years.

It was too soon, Caroline groaned and rubbed a hand over her eyes before remembering she’d done her make up this morning. The day was going great she could tell. With Josie was off saving the world one problem at a time, and Hope had finally returned to her family after 198 years in hiding. The school was full of laughter and love, but it was becoming slightly claustrophobic. She groaned and threw her phone across the room onto her other couch wincing when it went through the couch.

               “Love, I’m home!” the familiar voice of Enzo slamming the door of her study brought her kind of out of her funk and she offered a slight smile.

               “Hey Enzo, how was Italy with your lovely new bride?” Enzo had just married Rebekah which still weirded Caroline out since she had never seen it coming, but oddly it worked out really well. Enzo took everything Rebekah threw at him in stride, and Caroline had a feeling that was her fault.

               “His lovely bride is still here, and she brought you back some wine,” Rebekah said coming in behind Enzo two bottles of wine in her hands, each one of Caroline’s favorite vintages. Caroline stood up and laughed walking over to hug her favorite Mikaelson.

               “I’m so sorry I couldn’t get out to the wedding, but there was so much here that I had to take care of and I just couldn’t-” Rebekah held up her hand shaking her head.

               “You’re a coward and homebody. You didn’t leave the school for my wedding making me ask that tramp Hailey to be my maid of honor which forced me to change my color scheme. All because you couldn’t fucking, handle dealing with my brother for three fucking days,” Rebekah said her eyes darkening before she shook her head.

               “I’m so sorry Bekah, if I had known that it was such a hassle I-” Caroline shook her head and groaned. “God, you are so right. How did badass Caroline Forbes become such a fucking coward?”

               Caroline dropped onto her chaise and groaned again. Looking at Rebekah who was currently uncorking a bottle of wine, while Enzo grabbed three glasses from the other room. Rebekah had gone through a similar phase back in the early 2000s, but it had quickly gotten much better.

               “Not enough good hard sex?” Enzo chirped as he ducked from his wife’s aim with the cork.

               “While tactless my husband and your best friend has a point. You can’t face with what happened when you ran into him at Hopes graduation,” Rebekah said shrugging as she handed Caroline a glass of wine.

               “Well yea, I tried to congratulate him on Hopes accomplishments, and he offered me a ticket for Paris,” Caroline huffed thinking of that moment her eyes glazing slightly. Rebekah laughed at her and Enzo just shook his head.

               “I mean if that doesn’t say you’re still on my to do list, I’m not sure what will,” Rebekah said laughing as she took another sip of her wine.

               “Rebekah!” Caroline’s face started to flush her eyes wide as she broke into giggles of her own before drinking some of her wine.

               “So, what is my punishment for not coming to the wedding? Come on out with it, I know you Mr and Mrs. Mikaelson, spill the beans,” Caroline said her eyes narrowing on her two best friends. They’d never been able to help themselves when one of the three of them pissed the others off.  Enzo looked uncomfortable, while the love of his life just looked absolutely pleased with herself.

               “You are going to New Orleans tomorrow and you’re not coming back till you and my dolt of a brother have had- To quote you “hot hybrid sex” enough that the awkwardness is gone.” Rebekah said her smile making her look very much like the ‘cat that got the canary’. Caroline felt her face grow cold and she stared openmouthed at her two best friends.

               “Does he know I’m coming? Do I at least get to pick out my itinerary and when I see him?” she asked slowly trying to figure out what this actually was going to entail.

               “I mean you’re leaving tomorrow if I have to break your neck to get you there, from there what you do is up to you. Except you do have to see him,” Rebekah amended blowing Caroline a kiss after Caroline checked her watch before swearing. “Bekah! How in hell am I supposed to get ready for a vacation tomorrow when I don’t know about it before hand.” She glared at her best friend anger mounting, it was just the fact that Rebekah could kill her without breaking a nail before Caroline tried to do anything even at 480 years-old.

               “Because, I already packed for you. Before you panic about the school Enzo and I have that covered, Freya is going to handle the courses with me and Enzo as headmaster and dean of students,” she said looking kind of smug especially with the way that Caroline seemed to be caving in on herself.

               “Bekah I swear to all that you hold dear but most importantly your husband, I will destroy every last designer pump if Klaus doesn’t immediately ask me to dance,” she said after a few deep breaths and resigning herself to the cruel position of her life at the moment. “Josie, Lizzie and Hope all helped you plan this didn’t they?” She asked suddenly the conversation she’d had with Lizzie the night before coming back in waves.

               Enzo just grinned and waved his hand in a shooing motion as though her presence was bothering him. Caroline narrowed her eyes as an earlier comment from about two hundred years came back to haunt her. “Enzo if you so much as make out on that couch, I will bind you to a rock like Prometheus curse and all.”

               With that last comment hanging in the air Caroline stood and taking the two bottles of wine with her she left for her bedroom in the dormitory part of campus. She had to at least add somethings that were purely fun into her suitcase which was sitting right by the door just like Rebekah had promised, the fucker.

               Caroline hated flying and she hated that she couldn’t drive to New Orleans though she didn’t blame Rebekah not trusting her to get there if she’d actually driven. As she stared out the window of the plane as it touched down at the New Orleans private air field. When she stepped from the plane feeling slightly more in control once her feet were on the Earth she grinned as Freya walked toward her.

               “Hello Freya, have fun teaching the students this week, I appreciate it,” she said hugging her friend who had grown on her just as quickly as Rebekah had.

               “Thanks Caroline I can’t thank you enough for the break from New Orleans, there’s a new baddy in town and Klaus is going crazy,” she said her eyes rolling as she returned Caroline’s hug.

               “Seriously I’m gonna kick his ass,” Care said pulling away and grinning when Freya laughed at her comment.

               “The baddy or Nik?” Freya fired back and Caroline raised her eyebrow.

               “I fail to see why I can’t do both,” Caroline said shrugging as she handed her luggage to the hybrid waiting by the SUV that Freya had just exited.

               “I wish I could stick around to see it,” Freya said as she moved away towards the plane.

               Caroline shook her head as Freya and she went their separate ways, she had to admit that the Mikaelson sisters were a fucking riot and not women to cross or underestimate. The ride to downtown New Orleans was pleasant and as the sun started to set on the French Quarter the hybrid slowed for the crowds.

               “Miss, Mr. Mikaelson won’t be home so I can drop you off here if you’d like. Mr. Mikaelson should be in the Gypsum pub three blocks down,” he said looking at little apologetic about the change in plans.

               “That sounds fine, and please call me Caroline. It’s lovely to meet you,” she said smiling at the driver as she pulled her purse over her shoulder. “Could you just put that suitcase in his room? I think that would be the best bet.”

               “Um his room?” he said looking rather nervous at the thought of entering Klaus’ personal space.

               “I promise that if I’ve overstepped I’ll blame Freya,” she winked, and the young hybrid started to relax.

               Caroline bid him farewell and slipped from the parked SUV and into the crowds of tourists and supernatural inhabitants of the Quarter. Some witches glared and crossed the street. Caroline took a deep breath and felt the thrum and hub of the crowd flood over her. She shifted her face up towards the sky as a cloud above broke and the storm she’d seen on the weather app finally hit.

               Feeling the rain soak her light shirt and her skirt she didn’t pause in her slow saunter through the community. When the world passed around her she focused her ears on the far-off sounds of fighting coming from the direction the hybrid had pointed her in.

Flashing forwards, she paused at the opening of the Gypsum and as she peaked through a broken window she ducked when a head came flying over her head. As she rose she saw that a group had surrounded a single man in the middle. Klaus. Without thought or practical examination, she flashed around the circle pulling hearts, not staying still long enough for them to focus on who she was. This was a move she had gotten a lot of use out of when factions over the last four centuries had decided they would benefit by attacking the Salvatore Boarding School.

She came to the last assailant, but before she ripped the werewolf’s heart out, she realized Klaus would want information and switched to the neck. In a quick snap the body fell to the floor, neck broken. She was covered in blood; her pleasant and bright floral skirt and her blue shirt was covered in it. The veins were crawling up towards her eyes in a dangerous but beautiful image.

Klaus for his credit had relaxed though aware enough that he could step in if the need arose. Caroline. She was here, standing bloody and predatorily glaring at him as though this was the biggest inconvenience of her life. Licking some blood off her wrist she glanced at him and raised an eyebrow.

“You going to ask me to dance?” she asked flipping her hair over her shoulder and placing her hands on her hips.

Klaus for his credit jumped into action pulling her into his arms and spinning them in long slow circles around the room. Looking down at the blonde wraith in his arms, beautiful until angered. “If you want me to love, I’ll always take you to dance.”

“Still with the fancy lines Mikaelson, all I need is you. No pomp, no circumstance,” she commented looking at him happily her eyes brightening as they danced around the pub which was littered with dead bodies and stained with blood. She started laughing as she looked at him. She may be dripping with blood, but he was caked in it. Pulling away she stepped over a leg and smiled. “This wasn’t how I thought we’d reunite,” she said giggling as she pushed a bloodied lock of hair away from her cheek.

               “Really? I always thought we’d meet with bloodshed and rage, though I don’t think it was ever you saving me,” Klaus chuckled wiping a smear of blood from her cheek and then sucking the blood from his finger. Caroling blushed and moved in closer to hide against his chest.

               “Klaus, will you take me home please?” she looked up into his eyes. She was tired, but content to stay right here if he wanted to, but her body was tired. Not to mention in all 438 years she’d never gained a voyeurism kink.

               “For you anything?” he said pulling her tight to his chest and flashing as fast as his 1400-year-old powers would propel him towards the house. Once inside his room, he pushed her towards the ensuite shower, though not before kissing her gently on the lips. “I’ll be along shortly I just have to do one thing first.”

               Caroline nodded the smile still on her lips as she walked slowly into the bathroom her hips swaying in such a way that made Klaus smirk. She was everything she wanted and more, now they finally had each other. Pulling his phone out of his pocket he shot a quick text out.

 {Klaus to Rebekah} Thank you. The villa in Cyprus and Switzerland are yours. Congratulations on your nuptials.

{Rebekah to Klaus} No problem, she was ready to go anyway. Be yourself brother, she’s loved you for 400 years, she’ll love you 400 more.

[hollowsentinel]

Her Best

Note: Why are @thebreadle's children so good? Featuring the broken cyborg. The dragged daughter is included for spite or some such.

Between stretching her savings and getting revenge, Tabitha thought that revenge was the better choice. Better yet, she found someone that wanted to pay her to do it soon. One emptied bank account, some shady business, and a phone call later, she got the chance to get the jerks that decided that it would be fun to drive around with an industrial electromagnet on the back of their truck. All she had to do was wait for them to drive by, and she could fill them with whatever her gun was loaded with.

She glanced down at the stupidly expensive piece of junk she bought. Its quick display had long since buzzed out to a bubbly, but unhelpful canary. Apparently its guidance system lagged, and its butt broke against someone's else's butt. She didn't know why she asked about either (but she admitted that the latter made for a kind of funny story). It still fired exactly where Tabitha pointed it. Even if her synth-eye was buggy as all hell and refused to interface with the gun, it would do. Also, it was silenced, and that was pretty cool.

Tabitha checked her cell for the time. The jerks were late, but she supposed that it was par the course for ruining people's days. It wasn't like she had a shift at her local snack shack or had to see anyone. When she looked back at the street, a shock pinched her eyes shut.

Synth-blood, cyber-lube, or whatever it was (she was too busy panicking when the crazy doctor explained his new-fangled cybernetics) oozed out of her head holes. She really needed to see a doctor about that. If only they didn't charge up the butt for everything. She wiped up the mess as best she could, but it still stung her good eye and greened-out her replacement. The fluid in her ears made the world sound off, but it shielded her from the worst of the bozos' tricked-out ride.

Her skin buzzed when the joy-riders skidded around the corner a few blocks down. Their engine roared loud enough to rattle the windows of the run-down shops on the street. The bass of whatever noise they played shook her bones. It was about time they showed up.

Tabitha jammed the bare rod of her gun against her shoulder and took aim. Her first shot broke their windshield and blinded the driver. A second shot turned the rest of it white with cracks. The rest poured into the cab at random. One of the jerks kicked the glass out. None of them were dead yet, and one of them pointed her out.

The truck accelerated. Tabitha's heart stopped. They were going to run her over. She hurried to reload her gun, fumbling against the back of her shirt and shorts. There wasn't enough time. She dove into an alley just before they got to her. As they scraped by, she jammed her new clip in, but as soon as she stepped back out, something slammed into her and sent her sprawling.

Hannah thanked her mother, father, doctor, and surgeon for all they did to convince her that her ugly, heavy-duty prosthetics were the right choice. She also cursed them for pushing her away from synthetic materials. Getting dragged around by a giant magnet was not fun. Being late for her job interview was not fun. Slamming into someone and picking up speed was not fun. Worse still, she lost her fancy hat.

She and her victim screamed as the stupid magno-truck sped down the sidewalk. A sharp turn sent them careening through a storefront. On the bright side, the ride was probably over. Hannah could feel the pull of the magnet fall away. On the not so bright side, everything hurt and it felt like she was bleeding.

With a groan, she checked the wet spot on her head and found not blood, but green gel. Someone coughed and more of the fluid splattered onto her. Hannah opened her mouth to berate whoever it was, but she shut her mouth when she saw the girl on her.

She wiped the dribble on her chin and glanced down at Hannah. She looked away for a moment before she settled back on her. "You break anything?" she asked.

"I don't think so," Hannah eeked out. She looked over the girl on top of her. "What about you?" A cracked panel on the girl's inner thigh caught her attention. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"What do you— oh." She pulled away and squinted at the thing. She dusted the panel off gingerly and prodded it. Her wince told Hannah enough. "It stings," she stated as she tried to get up. Her leg failed to respond. Well, her thigh panel flickered, but otherwise it didn't do anything. "And yeah, no, that's not good."

Sirens cut off Hannah's response. "Ugh, this day just gets better and better," she groaned. They would take forever to deal with. Her companion, on the other hand, freaked. "Hey, what's up?"

"The cops and I don't exactly get along," the girl admitted. "Something to do with all the crap I gave them during homecoming." She pouted and meekly added, "I may have sprayed their cruisers pink."

"Oh," Hannah breathed. At least it wasn't murder. "That was cool." It had been a good laugh when they made the news. "Wouldn't it be illegal for them to take it out on you?"

"Yeah, still not looking forward to meeting them with an illegal gun."

Hannah glanced over to the gaudy rifle on the ground. "Oh." She sighed as the sirens grew louder. "Screw it." The girl yelped as Hannah picked her up and carried her like a princess. "I'm not exactly clean either," she admitted. A flick of her foot collected her briefcase and the girl's rifle. "Alright, escape 'ho!"

And off they went.

[askmissthunder]

Miss Thunder: Oh, it was just lovely! It was wonderful to see all my family again. It doesn't matter how much I tell myself not to cry when I spot my parents at the airport. As soon as I even catch a glimpse of my Mum, I start blubbering.

Red Rabbit: I had a great time at my Granny's! She knows I got a big appetite so she's ready and waiting with all the cookies and treats I can eat!

MT:  (Pokes Cassie's toned flat stomach) I swear, where does it all go?

RR: Hee hee! I'm pretty sure it all gets burned away with all the running I do.

MT: Sheesh! You probably burn a thousand calories just by tapping your foot, Cassie!

RR: It's a talent.

MT: Eli! How did that Battle Royal match go?

RR: I almost forgot about that! I would've watched you but I don't think my grandparents' TV gets the Ocean City Public Access Channel.  How'd you do?

Eli: (hanging his head sadly) I, uh...I lost.

MT: Oh! I'm sorry to hear that, luv! How far did you last?

E: ...I made it to eighth before I got eliminated.

RR: Out of Thirty?

E: Yeah.

MT: Sweetie, that's good!

RR: You made it to to the top ten! That's really good!

E: ...Really? You're not mad?

MT: Mad? Why would I be mad?

E: Well, I was shooting my mouth off in the last post, acting all tough and you seemed to like it so I thought if I won, you might give me a kiss or just be proud of me. I don't know.

MT: You wanted to win the match for me?

E: Yeah.

MT: (Walks up to Eli and scoops him up in her arms)

E: (Surprised) Hey!

MT: Oh, Eli. You don't have to win a match for me to be proud of you or to get a kiss from me!

(Plants a big kiss on his cheek)

MT: You win those matches for nobody but yourself, okay?

E: Okay...buuuuuut what if some evil super villain heel wrestler comes and kidnaps you and I have to win in a match against him to rescue you?

MT: Well, that's a pretty specific situation but...

E: Or what if one of my opponents called you fat? Like in a mean way?

MT: ...You know what, E? In that case, suplex them into the bloomin' dirt for me.

E: (Cracks knuckles) Heh heh! I can do that!

RR: Awwww! I swear you two are such cutie pies! I love it! But how about you, Talon?

Talon: Hmm?

MT: Anything exciting happen while we were gone?

.........................................................................................................

"Close the damn door! She saw us! I know she freaking saw us!", the taller man yelled to his partner as they slammed the apartment door shut, propping up the old moldy couch against it.

"How did she know where we were?!", whispered the shorter man, pulling his glock out of the back of his pants.

The taller man couldn't help but curse at their miserable luck. Out of everyone in the damn city who had to see them trying to sell some "rock", it had to be her.

Not the giant fat girl, not the speedy black girl.

Her.

She wasn't like the other costumed freaks. The other two, when they bust you, they haul you off to the cops. Hell, dealing with the cops would've been preferable. As long as they didn't try something stupid like shoot back, they would've just been given, at absolute worst, a year or two serving time at Greyshore.

But with this one...well, they had heard all the horror stories about her in the past 3 or 4 years. Lopped off limbs, being tossed over rooftops, mutilations, stabbings, broken jaws, gouged out eyes, nothing was too extreme or at least, that's what the stories all said.

The shorter man backed away from the door to peer through the blinds, "I mean, we've always been careful!, Covering our tracks, paying off the right pig, y'know? The usual stuff."

The taller man's eyes practically bulged out of his skull as he realized his friend's horrible mistake.

"JESUS CHRIST, GET AWAY FROM THE WINDOW-"

But it was too late, the window exploded as a pair of large boots came crashing through, sending glass flying as they smashed right into the shorter man's face, knocking him across the room like a ragdoll. In the darkened room, the taller man could only see a large shadow stand upright and turn in his direction

"Shit shit shit shit shit!", the taller man whimpered manically as he fumbled with his pistol. He managed to fire off a single shot but was only answered by two knives flying through the air, nailing him in his hand and wrist.

Before the scream could even finish coming out of his mouth, he looked up to see a large fist coming right at his face, making everything go black.

It was nearly a half hour later before he stirred. His face ached, not only from the blow, but it felt ungodly cold. His eyes struggled to open but could make out the city lights, stretching out to the horizon.  It was only when he glanced towards his feet that he started to shriek, seeing nothing below them but cloudy night sky and the flag pole he was dangling from.

"Ahem.", a voice spoke up.

The taller man frantically looked around and saw her crouched on the railing of a nearby fire escape, her dark brown eyes boring right into him.

"Oh! Oh Jesus Christ! Y...Y...You're her! You're -"

"Where is it?", she spoke, her voice electronically deepened by her mouth guard, stylized to look like a Japanese demon's fangs.

"W...wha...what do you mean?", he stammered, knowing exactly what she meant.

"Your supply.", she growled, unsheathing a short sword from her back, "Where you get your filthy drugs."

Despite the frigid cold, sweat started dripping up his face.

"Look...Me and my buddy, we just get them from a guy and he gets them from another guy and that guy gets them from another guy. You know how it is. Gotta be hush-hush. It's a whole process and-"

He stopped himself when he noticed that her gaze went from him to the rope.

"Did you ever play tether ball in school?"

He gulped loudly, "Uhh...yeah?"

"I never did but it looks...interesting."

She reached out towards the rope and started to slowly swing it from side to side.

"Hey hey hey hey hey!", the taller man yelped, "Knock it off!"

She ignored him and started swinging harder, using both of her toned arms like a bell ringer.

"Don't I have to make the ball go all the way around the pole?", she asked.

He sang like a canary after the third spin.

(Excerpt from The Daily Siren, December 22nd Issue:)

DRUG LAB UP IN SMOKE

by Gerald Harris

Nearly 20 members of a local drug gang were admitted to Ocean General Hospital in critical condition after a costumed vigilante single-handedly destroyed their base of operations in an abandoned textile warehouse in the industrial district.

Senior Officer Alan Sausley described the scene as "chaotic" as flames had already engulfed the warehouse by the time OCPD arrived.  "We didn't even need to handcuff any of the suspects as they had already been either tied up or severely injured to the point that they couldn't even stand up, let alone walk away."

OCPD also seized over 300 pounds of "crack" cocaine which the vigilante had arranged in a pile, away from the flames, providing ample evidence of what was going on inside.

"While we appreciate the assistance of our local masked heroes, the OCPD cannot abide such violent tactics used, despite the suspects' crimes.", Sausley warned as several of the gang members were suffering from stab wounds and slashings, one reportedly to the point of near-disembowlment and another had seven ninja stars embedded deep into his back.

Once their condition is stabilized, the gang members are expected to be prosecuted for both the production and sale of illegal narcotics.

...........................................................................................................

T: No, it was pretty slow.  I did enjoy the peace and quiet. Oh, and I played tether ball for the first time. Not bad.

MT: Oh, that sounds fun!

[schninner-writes-some-stuff]

Terrible Things (Dick Grayson X Reader)

 Song story for “Terrible Things” By: Mayday Parade

Schninner: Okay guys, first song imagine thing, so I apologize if this is no good. This is also not requested, I listened to the song and I thought, “How can I make this even more heartbreaking?” XD

Tagging @the-singing-canary​ and the angst queen @maruthor​ as well as @preppygothica​  @angstytodd​ @batlog​ @cuddles-for-cassie​

(The “reader” is female)

Key: [F/F] Favorite Flower [N/N] Nick name [H/T] Hair type

Warnings: swearing, angst, and deathlyness

Word count: 2492

Master List

By the time I was your age, I'd give anything To fall in love truly, was all I could think That's when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams The most beautiful woman, that I'd ever seen

Dick Grayson let his eyes wander across the cafe as he waited for his coffee. His rubbed his sleep deprived blue eyes and let out a loud yawn, running his fingers through his dirty raven black hair. He was a hot mess, with his greasy hair, messy and ripped jeans, and wearing a shirt that was two sizes too large.

He groggily scratched his stubbled chin as he quickly observed each new and unfamiliar face, and froze when he saw yours. You were seated at a booth, a cup of coffee in one hand, and your other dancing across the keyboard of your laptop. Your [H/C] hair was tied up in a messy bun with your [E/C] eyes staring intensely at your screen. His breath hitched as he took in your appearance. You were perfect.

He watched you as you leaned back in your seat, rubbing your own bags from under your eyes and bringing the coffee to your lips, and raising your eyes to meet his.  He quickly turned around, his cheeks flushed to a bright crimson, while his heart thumped quickly. He swore softly under his breath.

How long had he been staring?

That’s when he felt a light tap on his shoulder, he turned around, only to find himself in the presence of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She said, "Boy, can I tell you a wonderful thing? I can't help but notice, you're staring at me. I know I shouldn't say this, but I really believe, I can tell by your eyes that you're in love with me." Now, son, I'm only telling you this Because life can do terrible things.

You had an atmosphere of confidence around you, with a sly smile on your face, you stuck your hand out for him to shake.

“[F/N] [L/N], now, it’s been wonderful having someone good looking as your self-checking me out, but what if we got to know each other a little better?”

His eyes widened as he became all too aware of how much of a mess he was. But he managed to talk in semi-complete sentences.

“Richard- err- Dick Grayson, and I, um, you know, there's a possibility, err- I’m interested. “

Your smile only seemed to grow larger at his flustered behavior.

“Great! Can I see your phone?”

“My… Phone…?” he questioned slowly pulling out his cellular device

You rolled your eyes, “For my number? So we can, ya know, make a date?”

“Right! Of course!” he said a bit to eagerly. He silently cursed himself as he watched you punched your number in his phone. You handed it back to him, “Great! Well, I’ll be talking to you soon ‘Dick Grayson.’”

His eyes trailed after you, observing your every movement at you picked up you bag and walked out of the coffee.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, never in his whole life had he been so sure, that he was in love.

Now, most of the time we'd have too much to drink And we'd laugh at the stars and we'd share everything Too young to notice, and too dumb to care Love was a story that couldn't compare.

The night was cool and crisp, the summer breeze kissing your cheeks as cries of laughter silenced the singing crickets.

“Dick!” You shrieked, squirming in your boyfriend’s arms. “Unhand me you fiend!”

You kicked your legs in the air, giggling uncontrollably.

Dick nuzzled his face into your [H/T] [H/C] his deep and jovial voice ringing in your ear, “Now, why would I do that?”

His warm arms hugging your elevated body even closer to him.

You dramatically puffed your cheeks out into a childish pout, sending a chuckle to escape Dick’s lips.

“Well, if you don’t put me down, I’ll-”

Dick lost balance, falling to the ground, and rolling down the hill with you still in his arms. Down you two went, descending on the gently sloping grassy hill until you both van to a stop at the bottom. Dick’s arms still wrapped protectively around you.

The only sound heard was your heavy breathing, that is until you filled the silence with amused laughter.

You rolled off of your boyfriend, clutching your stomach as the fits of giggles continued.

“Great job there Romeo!” you managed to tell him between breaths.

Dick blushed bright pink, and laughed along.

Hours passed by, you two laughing, pointing at the stars, and making up constellations. peaceful silence settled on both of you, when you decide to Roll over on top of your boyfriend.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't shake you off. He watched as your eyebrows furrowed in thought as you gently began to play with the ends of his raven black hair.

“Everything alright [F/N]?” he asked, concern filling his voice.

“Yes, it’s just that- I kinda - you know- what I’m trying to say is-” you heaved a large and anxious sigh, hesitantly pulling your hand away from his hair.

“I love you. I love you Dick Grayson.”

Dick’s eyes grew in shock at the sudden confession, he your words sink in, warming him up from head to toe, before answering with a cocky grin on his face.

“Well, that's good,” he stated, gaining a raised eyebrow from you.

He quickly lifted his head, sealing your lips with his in a long breathless kiss.

“Cause I love you too.”

I said, "Girl, can I tell you a wonderful thing? I made you a present with paper and string. Open with care now, I'm asking you, please. You know that I love you, will you marry me?"

It had been several years since you and Dick had started seeing each other, every year having its ups and downs, but you two had always managed to make things right again.

This, to say the least, was probably not one of your highest points.

Dick had angrily left your shared apartment, with you cursing his name, sending bitter words his way.

That night you saw him on the news, watched as he, as Nightwing, took on several assailants at once, leaving him broken and scarred, but he would not back down.

You held your breathe, and sobbed as you watched as he was tossed aside like a rag doll, cursing your sf for being so harsh to him before.

Batman and Robin, along with Red Robin and Red Hood showed up at the scene before any mortal injury could be done to your Night wing.

You turned the TV off and waited with baited breatge1, watching the front door for any sign of movement. Several hours passed before the door opened up to Dick in his civilian clothes. With his arm in a sling and several cuts and bruises across his face.

In a heartbeat, without thinking, you leapt up and ran to him, embracing your boyfriend tightly while sobbing.

“Ow ow ow ow! Broken Ribs! Broken Ribs!” he groaned, inhaling sharply at the sudden burst of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, loosening your hold on the vigilante, but still keeping him in your arms, “I’m so sorry Dick, I didn’t mean what I said, and when you were out their fighting today, I thought- I thought…”

You trailed off, with new sobs reaching your throat.

Dick hushed you, while stroking your [H/C] hair with his good hand. “Hey, it’s okay! I’m alive and breathing! Besides, you can't get rid of me that easily.”

You looked up from his chest to those azure eyes that you loved oh so much.

“I love you.” you told him, your eyes wet and puffy from crying.

“I love you to [F/N],” he said, a sudden look of hesitation flashed in his eyes, as if he were debating something.

“Ahh, what the hell.” he said, carefully breaking the embrace and kneeling to the ground.

“Dick, what are you-” You gasped once you saw what he was awkwardly fumbling for. A small black box.

“Oh my gosh!” you breathlessly exclaimed, holding your hands up to you face as Dick managed to open up the box with his only available hand. A gold ring with pale [F/C] diamonds sat on a red cushion.

“[F/N], I love you, and can’t imagine my life without you in it, so,” he swallowed hard, beads of nervous sweat appeared on his brow, “I guess what I’m trying to ask you, is… Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” you said, kneeling down in front of him so he wouldn’t strain himself more than he already had. Tears of joy streamed down your face as you held his in your hands, pulling him into many breathless kisses.

Now, son, I'm only telling you this Because life can do terrible things You'll learn, one day, I'll hope and I'll pray, That God shows you differently.

Several more years passed by in a blink of an eye. You were now Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, with a quaint, but nice condo with plans to start a family of your very own. And that’s when the migraines came. They started off as small headaches, but gradually became more frequent and painful. You had dismissed them, not bothering to tell Dick, no need for him to get worried over nothing, right?

Wrong.

Dick had noticed your frequent use of ibuprofen and the constant rubbing of your temples with an agonized expression.

He sat next to you on your couch, where you had sat to save yourself from passing out, the pain was just that unbearable. He gently wrapped his large arms around your body, hugging you close to him. You melted into his embrace, burrowing your head into the crook of his arm.

“Your hurting, aren’t you?” He softly said into your hair.

You nodded your head slowly with your eyes still closed, letting out a quite whimper, “yes.”

“It’s okay,” He said kissing your head, “We’re going to go get help, bring you to a doctor, and they’re going to fix you right up.”

You opened your eyes and smiled at your husband, nodding your head, “Your right, I’ll be as good as new.”

But of course, you were both wrong.

She said, "Boy, can I tell you a terrible thing? It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks. Please, don't be sad now, I really believe, You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me."

A Brain tumor.

That’s what the doctor had said you nearly 7 months ago. Surgery was out of the question; it was much too large for that. They had told you that the only thing they could do for you, was give you medication for the pain.

“Two more weeks”

The dreadful words bounced through Dick’s mind. You two had gone in for your monthly check up, only to find that the tumor was growing at alarming rate, so much so, that you only had about 1 or 2 weeks at best, until you were gone.

“I’ll let you two talk it out, please, take all the time you need.” The doctor said with gentle kindness, leaving the room to you and your husband.

Two weeks.

Tears shot into Dick’s eyes, as he pulled you into a bear hug. Two weeks was not enough, you two were supposed to grow old together, start a family, you were supposed to live together. But all of that was gone.

“Hey, it’ okay.” You said, rubbing his back with one hand while stroking his hair with the other. “We’ll make it through this, just like we always do.”

“How?!” Dick exclaimed, anger suddenly raising in his voice, “You heard what the doctor said, 1 week, two at best. And then all of this,” he gestured to their surroundings “it’s all over! It’s almost as if it were for nothing!”

He was pissed, not at you, but at the world, at fate, at himself because he couldn't do a damn thing to help you! All he could do was sit and watch as you slowly whither away.

“Hey,” you calmly said, placing your palms on either side of his face, “don’t say that, don’t say that we were meant for nothing.” your voice cracking as your calm and collective mask disappearing and large tears welling in your eyes. “This was no mistake. Because You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes, “the only thing I regret is putting you through all this.”

New tears emerged to replace the old ones. “I’m sorry Dick!”

Dick’s heart sunk, in his chest as he watched the tears stream down your face, he reached out and brushed the ears from your face, before pulling you close.

“No [F/N], I’m sorry.” He squeezed you tightly, breathing in your scent, “I never regret meeting you, or falling in love with you, you made my life worth living.”

“I love you,” You heaved into his chest, clutching tightly to his biceps.

Tears fell from his eyes onto your hair, “I love you too.”

Slow, so slow I fell to the ground on my knees.

The cool crisp fall air caressed Dick’s cheek as he stood in front of your headstone.  

Gone.

Just like that.

Barely made it a week before you drifted off in your sleep.

“Hey, [N/N], I-I brought you something.” His voice cracking with emotion.

“They’re [F/F],” He said shakily, “Your favorite, and I cleaned out the house to today.” HIs hand shook as he reached into his pocket, “I found-” He sniffed and let out a short chuckle, unfolding the photograph. “It’s a picture of us on our wedding day,” tears were streaming down his face as new sobs raked through his body, he pointed a cold finger at the image of you, you two were shoving cake into each other’s face.

“Y-you had smeared it all in my hair, I was washing frosting out for nearly a week-” a cry escaped his lips, shaking his body and sending him crashing to the cold ground. He clawed at the ground, his chest heaved and filled with sorrow.

“I can’t!” he wailed.

“I can’t do this anymore!’

So don't fall in love, there's just too much to lose If you're given the choice, then I beg you to choose To walk away, walk away, don't let her get you. I can't bear to see the same happen to you.

“I need you here, with me. I can’t go on without you!” Tears splattered to the ground.

“Please [F/N], I miss you.”

Now, son, I'm only telling you this Because life can do terrible things

[feynites]

*sneaks some more Super Sad Frat Reincarnation AU aka Baby Uthvir Adventures inspired by @selenelavellan in*

Uthvir is eleven when they meet Andruil.

It’s the first day of the new school year, and it’s a new school for them, too, and they’re a little nervous. The school itself is new, even; built just last year, thanks to an overhaul in the district. Selene and Felasel had been worried about it, even though everyone else seemed really happy to have another school, and less crowded classrooms. They’d even talked about moving, although when Uthvir tried to ask why, they didn’t get much of an explanation.

Spider-Man hadn’t offered any further insights, though he had told Uthvir not to make any new friends or talk to many people in their class. But that was just how Spider-Man was, he was always blowing stuff out of proportion.

Still, the overwhelming combination of factors had left Uthvir feeling pretty uncertain. Felasel drops them off and almost walks into the school with them, and Uthvir had to remind him that they’re too old for that kind of thing, now, and all but chase him off. When they get to class their new teacher seems nice. He’s a human with a long, slow drawl, and since it’s the first day, he lets everyone ‘get to know each other’, and puts a movie on towards the end of class.

Uthvir meets Andruil mostly because her desk is right next to theirs. She’s got dark hair and yellow eyes, and a denim jacket, and she chews gum until the teacher makes her put it away. When they’re supposed to be making introductions, she glances at Uthvir, and then taps her nails on the side of her desk.

“What’s your name?” she asks.

Uthvir tells her, and they exchange introductions. Andruil’s a little weird. But Uthvir usually likes people who are a little weird, and they’re not really anybody to point fingers. She tells them that she’s been going to private school for the past while, that she had to fight to get to go to public school, because her parents are strict and rich. She has an older brother and a younger sister, she says, and she doesn’t get along with either of them.

“Sylaise is a crybaby, and Falon’Din’s a dickhead,” she tells them.

Uthvir blinks at the swear.

“Do they let you curse in private school?” they wonder.

Andruil shrugs.

“No, but they might let me in public school,” she says, cocky and brazen.

“They won’t,” Uthvir assures her. “It’s against the rules.”

“Rules were made to be broken,” Andruil insists. And then she sticks her head up, and straightens her shoulders, and waves at the teacher.

“Hey, shitwad!” she calls out.

The entire class gasps, and for a moment it seems like no one is quite sure of what to do. Andruil grins, the cat with the canary, before the teacher recovers and then tells her to go to the principal’s office. He writes her a note, which Andruil takes with a flourish, before skipping off like she just won a trophy instead of a reprimand.

Uthvir marvels.

The last time they got sent to the principal’s office, it had been because they’d forgotten that they had one of their practice knives in their backpack, and it had been awful. They’d gotten a warning for bringing a weapon to school, and Selene and Felasel had both come, and there’s been arguments and explanations and Uthvir had felt like the worst kid in the world. They’d felt so bad about it that Selene just told them it was a mistake, in the end, and hadn’t even grounded them or anything.

Andruil’s kind of cool, they think.

When she comes back from the principal’s office, she takes the seat beside them again, and doesn’t even seem the least bit contrite.

At lunch break, they end up exploring the playground together. A few other kids from their class join in, and it seems like they might be set to form a new group of friends, based mostly around awe at Andruil’s complete disregard for authority. When the bell rings, Andruil invites Uthvir over to her house.

“My papae’s picking me up,” she says. “He has a new truck. You should come over, we can watch television in our home theatre.”

“I need permission,” Uthvir admits.

Andruil tsk’s, derisive, and they hesitate. The new school is within walking distance of their house, just on the other side of it, really. Felasel had tried to argue that he should still come and pick Uthvir up, but they’d eventually won the point that it really wasn’t that far. If they go through Ana’s backyard they can get there even quicker.

“Why don’t you come over to my house instead?” they suggest. “It’s just right down there. We could walk ourselves.”

Andruil contemplates the option. Something in it must appeal to her, though, because she agrees to the change of plans pretty easily, even though Uthvir can’t offer things like new trucks or home theatres. She doesn’t even wait to tell her dad; just shrugs her bag a little more firmly onto her shoulder, and gestures at them to lead the way.

In the end they do cross through Ana’s backyard, although mostly because Uthvir thinks it seems roguish and rebellious. Especially when they don’t tell Andruil that they know the owners. They hop over the fence, and then head down to the sidewalk, and make it easily to Uthvir’s house. Felasel’s car is gone, but it looks like Selene is home. The front door’s unlocked and Uthvir can hear Spider-Man whispering in that way that they think of as ‘waking up’.

They’re not a little tiny kid anymore, of course. They know that Spider-Man’s a spirit. But in the grand scheme of things, he’s still theirs, so they don’t worry about it too much. So long as no one else finds out, it’s probably not a big deal.

“I thought it’d be more of a dive,” Andruil says, looking at their house with vague disappointment.

Uthvir opens their mouth to reply, with the front door half open and their hand still on the knob. But then it swings out of their grip, and they blink up and there’s Selene, all of a sudden. Standing there, staring at Andruil with the angriest expression Uthvir’s ever seen.

Their blood runs cold.

“No,” Selene says.

Andruil blinks up at her.

“Chill, lady,” she replies, though there’s a note of uncertainty to her tone that hasn’t been there all day.

For a minute, Uthvir thinks Selene might actually take a swing at her, or something. Which is crazy. Selene’s one of the nicest people they know, and she’d never hit a kid. Especially not one who hasn’t even done anything. The hairs on the back of their neck stand up, too, and they feel Spider-Man hissing under their skin, all of a sudden. Like an angry animal.

“You need to leave. Go home, right now,” Selene tells Andruil, before bodily grabbing Uthvir and dragging them all the way inside. “We’ve had a family emergency. Playdate cancelled, so sorry, have a nice day.”

The shuts with a resounding bang, and Uthvir blinks, as their heart speeds up.

They did something wrong.

What did they do wrong?

They’re allowed to walk home. They’re allowed to bring friends over. They didn’t get sent to the principal’s office – would Selene know that Andruil had been?

They swallow, hard, as they find themselves subjected to one of the most intense once-overs they’ve ever gotten in their life. The fact that Spider-Man is basically hissing incoherently in the background of their mind doesn’t really help the situation much. Uthvir feels like everything has just gone from zero to eleven, and the scariest part is no matter how hard they try, they can’t see where it went wrong.

And then Selene pulls them into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” they manage, as she wraps her arms around them and tucks them under her chin.

“No,” she says, again. But the tone is more normal this time. “No, don’t be. I’m sorry, I should have done that… differently.”

Andruil is dangerous, Spider-Man tells them, then, having finally regained his coherence. Stay away from her!

…Andruil?

But… she’s just a kid? In their class?

Dangerous!!!

The tone which Spider-Man is using is usually reserved for things like ‘you are about to put your hand right on that very hot stove’, not his typical ‘if eight different implausible things lined up precisely right under these circumstances you could hypothetically die’ type stuff. Uthvir doesn’t know what to make of that.

“What’s wrong?” they try asking Selene, instead.

Selene looks like she’s trying to think of a good way to answer.

“Is there really an emergency?” they try. Maybe something did happen, maybe that’s why everyone’s being weird. Where’s Felasel? They feel a sudden pang of worry. Did Felasel get hurt? Before they can ask, though, Selene shakes her head. And then she lets out a breath, and hugs them again. Uthvir tries not to squirm as it goes on for a little longer than usual, before she finally lets them go.

“We need to talk, but not here,” she finally decides.

Uthvir nods, uncertain.

And they remain uncertain, as Selene takes them upstairs, and they start packing some  bags for a ‘road trip’. They feel a pang of insecurity, wondering if they’re being sent away again. But Selene packs bags for herself, too, and she doesn’t say anything like that. Doesn’t scold them or yell at them, or tell them she’s finally had it. They don’t pack anything for Felasel, but Selene says he has to stay because he has work, and because ‘somebody needs to keep an eye on things’.

Somehow Uthvir doesn’t think she’s worried about the plants getting watered.

By the time they’re loading up the car, while Selene texts people and locks up the house, their mind is beyond racing. They’ve got Spider-Man stuffed under one arm and they don’t even care that it’ll look silly if anyone sees them in the driveway. Andruil is gone and there’s nobody around, not really, and all they can get from their partner again is a nebulous and overwhelming sense of dread, and the notion that it would be better if they were heading someplace else. Far away.

Andruil means Falon’Din, is the only semi-coherent thing they can glean, before Selene finally gets into the driver’s side and they pull out of the driveway.

“Where are we going?” they finally manage to ask.

Selene lets out a breath.

“To Eda’s place,” she tells them.

Uthvir perks up a little bit, at that. Eda’s place! That’s out in the wilderness. They haven’t been there since last summer, because one of the dragons had a new nest and she doesn’t know Uthvir too well and gets nervous around strangers, and by the time the hatching started, it was only a few days until school began. But now they’re going? Just after the first day?

“Is Eda okay?” they check. They like Eda. Spider-Man says she’s his daughter, even, so she’s extra important, and unlike with most people, there actually seems to be a reason for it.

“Eda’s okay,” Selene confirms. “Everyone’s... most everyone is okay.”

Her hands tighten on the steering wheel for a minute.

Uthvir goes quiet, nervous and uncertain, but a little more optimistic now. Eda’s house is the coolest place, possibly ever, even though it’s too far away for the internet to work. They’re glad they remembered to bring their games with them. Eda likes to play, and it can get a little boring at night, if they end up staying over.

They glance out the window, and watch the road drift by; and wonder what’s so dangerous about Andruil, that they’re basically fleeing town.