#I hate all the things that made me lose you

[gumii-bearr]

Alt!Megumi who fucking hates you but has to tolerate you bc you’re Yuuji’s best friend. Yuuji drags both of you to a party and abandons you, leaving the two of you to get drunk off your asses and insult each other. Until Megumi starts getting handsy and leads you off to a room for a nice hate fuck 😇😇

YEEAASSS BOOM SHAKALAKAAAAA–

thinking about... ❝ hate sex ❞

featuring... megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, hate sex, rough sex, mirror sex, swearing, dirty talk, HELLO SAILOR–

author's note: u have awoken something in me i hope ur ready for my wrath, also i made them actually fucking hate each other it's so funny.

── alt!megumi who has hated your guts from the start.

── yuji was your best friend and was always bringing you around, and it always pissed megumi off because why exactly did you need to be involved in everything?

── you were a rude, insolent brat at the best of times, always had a snarky remark or a smart ass comment loaded in the chamber ready to fire when you could sense megumi was even slightly irritated by your presence.

── it became a thing. everyone knew you hated each other, always bickering and arguing over stupid shit.

── alt!megumi who is normally a very chill and somewhat anti-social guy. but you just bring out this hot-headed, unbridled anger in him. and you do it all with the flutter of your lashes and a cheeky fucking smile on your face.

── you always had something to say. like when yuji and nobara were taking forever to pick a snack at the convenience store down the road from your college campus:

── megumi was cranky, "jesus christ, just pick something, you're taking forever"

── "you'd know all about finishing fast, huh, fushiguro?"

── alt!megumi who simply put, cannot stand you. if looks could kill, you would be so dead. and you, who is equally bothered by him and his fake tough-guy persona and how he's always pretending to be this big scary guy who is just so unbothered by everything.

── except for you, since you always manage to wriggle under his skin and piss him off.

── or when yuji dragged you both along to a party, telling you two to "be nice" to each other then promptly ditched you because, well, he's yuji, a social butterfly who makes friends wherever he goes.

── alt!megumi who isn't a big drinker, but if he has to stay at this god forsaken party, he may as well drink.

── alt!megumi who is chatting up a girl when you appear, bumping shoulders with him drunkenly as you scare away whatever little piece he was talking to because you're you and you make his life difficult for your own enjoyment.

── "why don't you just fuck off?"

── "you'd miss me too much."

── the two of you becoming progressively more drunk at this house party, and the alcohol seems to thicken the sexual tension between you and megumi.

── you're the only person he knows here other than yuji and vice versa, the two of you unintentionally gravitating toward each other no matter how much you try to avoid one another.

── you, who is dancing and grinding up on some guy and megumi is standing by the stairs just fucking watching you and he's clenching his jaw and staring daggers at you because don't you have any fucking self-respect?

── and you're wearing the tiniest mini skirt he's ever seen and a low-cut top that your tits threaten to spill out of and the gawking of these useless frat guys is pissing him off.

── and when you bend over to pick up a drink off the table, megumi just loses it because he can see your lacy black panties and your plush ass from under your skirt.

── and alt!megumi who drags you upstairs and away from all the prying eyes and wandering hands by your arm before laying into you about your lack of self-respect.

── "you want everyone to think you're some fucking slut?"

── "yeah, but you were looking too, weren't you, fushiguro?"

── alt!megumi who just stares at you, absolutely seething before the tension between you two just fucking snaps and he slams you against the closest door, his mouth on yours in mere seconds.

── alt!megumi who's tattooed hands grab and knead at your hips and ass and your tits over your shirt.

── alt!megumi who pushes you into the closest bathroom, his hand squeezing your throat as he kisses you but it's not gentle, it's mean and it's hard.

── and you, who tugs at his hair and at his belt buckle because the two of you just need to fuck out whatever the hell your problem is.

── alt!megumi who is pulling your skirt over your ass and forcing your panties down your legs and you're fucking helping him because there's something seriously wrong with how much you want him to fuck you.

── alt!megumi who bends you over the bathroom sink and squeezes your heated cheeks together as he forces you to watch him fuck you.

── "always acting like a fucking slut."

── "you've wanted to fuck me so bad from the beginning. don't lie."

── alt!megumi who is thick and long and heavy, and his pace is fucking brutal. he's forcing noise after noise out of you as he forces your hips back onto his cock, your knees buckling as he basically holds your lower body up while you brace your hands against the counter.

── and the two of you hate how good it feels.

── hate how good he's fucking you, hate how soaked you are, hate how hard you've got him.

── you hate it all so much you fucking love it.

author's note: HAHAHAHAH I NEED TO MAKE THIS A FIC IM FERAL HELLO– help i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure like a rabid gorilla.

[keferon]

The mecha au is all fun and games until you realise the Cybertronians and ghost and dead boyfriend turned Cybertronian leader will lose their humans because of old age or other things😁

AH DAMN WAIT

1 - yeah. They definitely will.

2 - You made me remember someone sending fucking masterpiece of an idea in my asks and I saw It and then fucking foRGOT TO POST IT HANG ON I WILL FIND IT AND YOU ALL WILL BE HATING ME FOR ALL PAIN HAHAHFJJF

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

Thank you! Okay here’s my idea. It’s kinda like a slowburn fic but tickling? So imagine it’s a Ler in a Ler mood (maybe Chan?) but is trying to hold back from acting on it cuz he doesn’t wanna make the others uncomfortable. But the members notice and decide to tease the Ler by doing little things near him but not close enough to let him participate. So like poking each other, short quick tickle, stretching and showing off weak spots but hiding them too fast. Just really making the Ler mood for him worse trying to break him but he keeps holding back until finally one of the Lees just flat out invites him to tickle them cuz you know you want to hyung. Basically a flustered shy Ler fic! I hope I explained it right. I think it’d be fun for it to be a longer fic so you can play up the flustery parts. That’s my idea! I love ur writing so I hope you like this idea and feel inspired to write it! If not, maybe one day I will post my version of it. Thank youuu!! ☀️

𝗻𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗼𝘂𝘀 — 𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗮’𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝘁𝗵𝗱𝗮𝘆 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝗹:

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 3.5k

𝙖/𝙣: happy birthday to me!! i’m so happy i got to post this fic on time hehe :3 i hope you all enjoy this!!

𝒍𝒆𝒆: skz

𝙡𝙚𝙧: chan

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s🖤

Ler mood: 9/10 

Chan was this close to losing it. He felt the overwhelming guilt flood his system, like the feeling of sticky fingers after eating ice cream, that annoyingly clammy feeling that spreads through the body with no end in sight. 

Jisung’s gentle snoring filled the studio, and Channie watched, laptop forgotten and bottom lip between his teeth, as the smaller boy shifted, his shirt rising just a bit more to reveal his tiny belly button. 

The urge to stick a finger in there, to hear the high pitched squeal and chaotic, unhinged laughter that would ensue was catastrophic. Chan fidnt know how he’s still holding back. 

But he was asleep, and what if it irritated him? 

Chan felt the guilt rise again, and he nearly groaned out loud. His ler mood was killing him, and he needed one of the members right now or else he might actually explode. 

Okay…so maybe he became a bit dramatic when his mood hits. But who could blame him?

Listening to Jisung complain about how sleep deprived he had been lately, Chan knew it would be horrible to just disturb him like that. 

Ler mood: 8/10

Wandering around the dorm in search of a potential lee, a sinking feeling began to emerge in Chan’s gut. Am I too overbearing? Is this crossing the line? And worst of all, Am I…weird for doing this? 

Chan froze mid-step, vision going slightly blurry as tears welled up in his eyes. He felt absolutely horrible, hunting his members down to tickle them just because he was feeling a certain way. 

Even if Changbin’s tummy looked too sweet not to be tickled, and even if Seungmin called him old one too many times, Chan wondered if the members hated the spontaneous tickling sessions he threw at them, whether it made them nervous, or even worse, scared of the leader. 

Dinner time was a chaotic time as normal, all the members chatting as they devoured the scrumptious cooking, courtesy of Minho. Except for one. 

Chan moved around the food on his plate with his fork and spoon, feeling squeamish and uncomfortable with the prospect of eating. He felt nervous as he felt seven pairs of eyes stare him down, like a flight of hawks. 

“You haven’t eaten a thing, hyung… are you okay?” Hyunjin’s tone dripped of suspicion, like honey, sweet and sultry at the same time. 

Channie gulped. “Yes, I’m fine,” He chuckled, trying to act normal even if he knew it wouldn’t work. His thoughts were confirmed when Minho narrowed his eyes at him across the room. 

Chan excused himself, trying his hardest to ignore how the others stared holes into the back of his head as he set his plate in the sink and left. 

Ler mood: 10/10

Hearing the sound of screaming laughter, Chan shot up from his studio table, turning his head to see the rest of the members immersed in playful banter, and poor m was getting it, dozens of fingers attacking as he squealed out, face red. 

Chan fought the itch to join in, instead trying to block out the sound of the maknae’s joyful hysterics  by slamming his headphones onto his head, pressing them against his ears in a hope that they’d drown out the laughter that made him wanna cry. 

It did nothing, and Chan felt his eyes well up with tears again as he was forced to listen to the one sound that he wanted to elicit the most. 

He watched in slight sadness as Changbin showed off the progress on his muscles, pointedly looking at Chan to signify his point, and Chan felt horribly guilty for not being able to focus on anything other how exposed Changbin’s armpit was, and how easy it’s be to pin him down and tickle him silly. 

It happened later again with Minho too. His feet were in Chan’s lap while the leader massaged, and Minho kept giving him hard looks, almost as if to try and egg him on as Channie’s brain filled with thoughts on how simply he could just skim his fingers along Minho’s soles and have the younger go ballistic beneath his tickling fingers. 

Then with Jeongin too. The maknae kept poking Channie’s sides, at this point he was just asking for it, telling Chan fo get him back fast because “You know you want to, hyung.”

Chan wondered if it was all on purpose and the members knew, or if the universe was conspiring against him to make his ler mood worse. 

Ler mood: 10/10

After two grueling days of drowning in his own thoughts, Chan was dragged into the living room by Minho, and there awaited the one sight that he’d been dreading. 

All of the members were seated around the couch, eyes sad and expressions concerned. Chan felt a knot form in his throat, and he felt so bad for making them feel upset. 

“Hyung, seriously, what’s going on?” Minho asked, his tone gentle as he took both of Channie’s hands. “Did someone hurt you? Do you feel sick? You’ve been off lately, we’ve all been worried.”

“Please,” Felix joined in. “Please just tell us. You can trust us, hyung.”

“Yeah,” Jisung added. “We know you love to tickle us, and we love to be tickled, hyung. You can do what you want when you’re in a ler mood. Don’t hold it back and don’t overthink it. You’re destroying your own happiness.”

Chan sank into the nearby couch section, and his mind felt like it was exploding, and it was unbearable. 

“I just want…to make you laugh. I want to make you all happy…” He started, sniffling as he felt many pairs of arms wrap around him. “It’s stupid…that I’m overthinking a ler mood, but I don’t want to…make you all uncomfortable.”

Jisung giggled, sinking to his knees in front of Chan, hands reaching out to cup the leader’s cheeks and jaw, wiping away the stray tears with his thumbs. “So you were watching me sleep because you wanted to tickle me?”

The leader sputtered, cheeks going red as the whole group laughed. “Well—hey!”

“So hyung’s in a ler mood. So why don’t we let him tickle us? You know you want to, hyung,”  Seungmin announced nonchalantly, although his red ears and pink cheeks told another story. 

“Mmm…how about two minutes each in whatever spot he wants?” Hyunjin joined in, teasingly poking a reddening Jeongin’s cheek. 

After some time discussing, the members all gathered on the carpet in a circle, staring up at Chan as the eldest gleefully sat in the center. 

“Everyone has to try not to move their arms a lot, so that he’ll be able to do what he wants.” Minho announced. 

“Easy for you to say, remember how many times you nearly killed hyung by slapping him while he tried to tickle you?” Jisung laughed, screaming when Minho made claws at his face. 

“First, Seungmin!” Felix screeched, and all of the members jumped into action, dragging the protesting puppy into the center of the circle, and restraining him to the floor. 

Biting his lip, Seung could feel his cheeks heat up as Chan stepped over him, then lowered to pin his hips to the floor. The leader’s slightly shy gaze was too much, and Seungmin squeezed his eyes shut, feeling flustered. 

He felt his shirt being untucked and pulled away, and he let out a helpless whine as his tummy was exposed to the cool air. 

Then, Seung felt a pair of lips attach to his belly, and his eyes shot open in horror, but far too late. 

“Oh my—GAHAHAHAHAHAA!!” Seungmin shrieked as he tried to curl in on himself to protect his tummy from the endless raspberries being peppered onto it. 

Chan smiled, albeit shyly, holding Seungmin’s sides while he blew a long one right into the boy’s navel. “NO—NOHOHOHOHOOO!! Ihihihit tihihihickles!!” Seungmin whined, unable to shield himself in any way. 

He endured more and more, feeling like he was gonna burst from how hard he was laughing. He even heard himself snort—how embarrassing. “STAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!! Pleheheheheheaseee!!”

Before he even knew it, his time was up, and he was released. Panting, Seungmin ran towards Felix and dragged him to the center of the circle. 

Now, Felix was a giggling mess, pinned on his back in the middle of the living room floor. His arms were stretched above his head, held firmly by Hyunjin, whose long fingers were occasionally scribbled along Felix’s forearms to keep him squirming.

Seungmin, seeking revenge, and Jeongin, had each grabbed one of his legs, keeping them still despite Lixie’s half-hearted attempts to kick free. The boy whined and kicked, but he was unable to break free. 

Chan hovered near his waist, fingers poised hesitantly, but his expression was gleeful and joyful. 

Lixie let out a helpless wheeze, eyes fearful hesitatingly Changbin scooted to his torso, holding down his hips. “Please…Channie hyung, go easy!”

Chan grinned, confidence regained, and his fingers descended happily onto Felix’s waist. Lix’s reaction was immediate: his body arched off the floor, a burst of uncontrollable laughter spilling out of him.

“Gotcha~” Chan said smugly, his fingers moving with accuracy as he targeted Felix’s ribs.

Felix twisted and squirmed, his laughter growing louder and more desperate. “HYUHUHUHUHUNG!! THAHAHAHAHAT’S CHEEHHEHEHEATING!!” 

“How?” Chan asks, digging deeper to hear the brownie boy squeal, his body arching a little bit unable to go far. 

“Youhuhuhu knohohow that’s my wohohohOHOHORST SPOHOHOHOHOHOT!!” Felix howled, body bucking as he felt more fingers spider along his sensitive skin. 

“Times up!” Changbin called, and Chan groaned. 

“IHIHIHITS OKAHAHAHAAY!! Gohhohohoh on ihihihits fihihine!!” Felix squealed, wanting Chan to have as much time as he wanted to tickle the members until his ler mood was satisfied.

Chan smiled gently at that, continuing to tickle for about another minute with joy, loving the way his sunshine squirmed beneath him, laughing so happily at something so simple as some ticklish touches. 

Chan finally leaned back, giving Felix a moment to catch his breath. Felix panted, his voice hoarse but still tinged with residual giggles.

Hyunjin and Seungmin finally released him, and Felix immediately curled into a ball, hugging his sides protectively.

Hyunjin had been laughing way too hard during Felix’s ticklish ordeal. He’d been the first to volunteer to pin Felix’s arms, the loudest to chime in with teasing remarks, and the most smug about his role in the chaos.

So when Felix finally caught his breath, wiping away tears of laughter, he turned toward Hyunjin with a look that could only be described as pure vengeance. 

“Come here!” He shouted, grabbing Hyune’s arms and dragging him to the center, much to the others’ delight as they pinned him down. 

“No, no, NO!” Hyunjin shrieked, scrambling to his feet as Felix grabbed his arms to pin. The rest of the group erupted into cheers, their laughter filling the living room as Lixie tackled Hyunjin to the floor with surprising speed.

Hyunjin’s legs kicked wildly, but Chan was quick to sit on them, his grin smug as he held Hyunjin’s ankles down. “Oh, no, you’re not going anywhere,” Chan said, his tone playful as he grabbed at Hyunjin’s waist, motioning Lix to keep his arms steady as he dug deep into the boy’s armpits. 

Hyunjin shrieked, laughter tumbling out of him as Chan’s thumbs massaged torturous circles into his sensitive skin, even slipping under his shirt to access the bare skin. 

“NOHOHOHOHOHO NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” The ferret screamed dramatically, bucking up and down as Chan dug even deeper, grinning maniacally as Hyune squealed in response. 

Hyunjin’s laughter was frantic now, unable to get enough air between the bursts of giggles. His feet twitched and jerked, but no matter how much he squirmed, Felix and Seungmin kept him firmly in place.

“YOUHUHU AHAHAHAALLL SUHUHUHUHUCK!!” The laughter that spilled from Hyunjin was near non-stop, and the sound was contagious. His whole body shook with helpless giggles, making it hard for him to catch his breath as Chan’s relentless poking continued at his armpits.

Changbin raised a single arm to signify the time completed, and Chan released the red faced boy instantly, laughing as Hyune practically scrambled to hide behind a very amused Jisung. 

Hyunjin, still flushed with laughter and completely winded, shot them all a glare, though it was hard to stay mad when his grin was just as wide as everyone else’s.

Changbin had been watching the chaos unfold with a mixture of amusement and caution. Being the self-proclaimed strongest member, he was confident that he wouldn’t fall victim to the tickle onslaught that had already claimed three of the members.

But when the others turned their attention to him, his confidence started to waver.

“No! Not me!” He stumbled backwards as five of the members began to approach to help Chan—Minho, Seungmin, Jisung, Hyunjin, and Felix. 

“Careful boys,” Chan called out. “He won’t go down without a fight.” He proclaimed dramatically. 

It ended up taking all seven of them to bring a wailing Changbin to the floor. 

“NOOOOO!!” He cried out as each member sat on one of his limbs to finally pin him down, and he squeaked in fear as the leader sat triumphantly on his thighs. 

“Ready, Binnie?~” Chan cooed, but he didn’t wait for an answer. He shot his hands to Changbin’s hips, and much to the poor boy’s horror, dug in deep with his thumbs. 

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOHOT THE HIPS, NOTTHEHIPS—AAHAHAHAHAHA!!” 

Chan grinned in amusement as Changbin flopped around, laughing his head off as the leader targeted one of the worst spots on his body. 

“Not so strong now, huh?” Minho crooned, laughing as Changbin let out an adorable snort of laughter before devolving into frantic cackles yet again. 

“ENOUGH—EHEHEHEHENOUGHHHH!! IHIHIHU GIVE UHUHUHUHUP!!” 

The timer rang faintly in the background, so Chan gave Binnie’s hips one last squeeze before letting the boy go, relishing in how red the rapper’s face had become, combined with how teary eyed he seemed. 

Changbin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Nope,” the others said in unison, laughing as they watched their strongest member reduced to a giggling, embarrassed mess.

Jeongin had been watching from the sidelines with a mix of amusement and dread. Sure, he’d laughed along with the others as Seungmin, Felix, Hyunjin, and Changbin were respectfully reduced to ticklish messes, but the way everyone slowly turned their attention toward him made his stomach drop.

“No. Nope. Not happening,” Jeongin said, backing up quickly, his hands raised in a defensive gesture.

“Oh, it’s definitely happening,” Chan said, his smile far too innocent to be reassuring.

“You’ve been way too smug over there,” Seungmin added, cracking his knuckles as he stepped forward. “Time to see how well you can handle it, maknae.”

Innie darted a glance around the room, trying to find an escape route, but the others had already spread out, blocking any possible exit. “Guys, come on,” He said, his voice pitching slightly as he tried to reason with them. “I’m the youngest! You can’t do this to me!”

Felix snorted. “That’s exactly why we can do this to you.”

Before Jeongin could make a break for it, Hyunjin and Changbin lunged forward, grabbing him by the arms. Innie let out a startled yelp, thrashing wildly as they dragged him toward the center of the circle.

“NOO!!” He shrieked as high pitched as he could, causing one of the members to groan loudly in the background. Innie was very quickly shut up by the feeling of feathers gliding along his neck. 

“WAHAIT!! Nohohohohobody sahahahaid toohohohohools!!” Jeongin squealed as Chan cooed, cupping the maknae’s chin with one hand and tilting his head up to expose his neck, grinning down at the youngest’s giggly expression while the others used whatever feathers they found, tracing and fluttering along his sensitive neck. 

“I know, I know,” Chan pouted down at the maknae. “But you’re too cute not to use them on~”

Innie giggled, eyes tearing up as the tickles continued without an end in sight. More feathers fluttered along the shell of his ears, and Jeongin exploded into giggles, his face scrunching up as he squirmed helplessly.

“Oh, baby, I love you so much,” Chan smiled, brushing Innie’s hair out of his face. “You’re so cute~”

The timer rang loudly, disrupting the vibe, but Jeongin was too dazed to really care. The members made sure to slow to a stop, however. 

“Look who’s so cute being tickled,” Jisung chuckled. 

“Good, because you’re next, and boy am I not gonna let you off easy~” Chan laughed, and Jisung gulped hard. 

“This is a bad idea,” Jisung said quickly, his words tumbling over each other as he was dragged to the center. “You really don’t want to do this. I’ll scream. The neighbors will call the cops.”

“Let them,” Chan replied smoothly, kneeling beside him with a devilish grin. “We’ll just explain that our dear Han Jisung couldn’t handle a little tickling.”

Chan didn’t wait for him to finish. His hands dove straight for Jisung’s ribs, digging in with a devilish intent, and the effect was immediate.

“NOOHOHOHO!! AAAAAHHH!!” Jisung shrieked, his body jerking violently as he tried to escape the relentless fingers.

“Oh, he’s loud,” Felix noted with a grin, poking at Jisung’s sides to add to the chaos.

“I CAHAHAHANT HEHEHELP IHIHIHIT!!” Sung howled as Chan scribbled deep into the crevices. 

“Reeeaallly had to go for the death spot, huh?” Minho winced as Sungie let out a particularly long scream of laughter. 

“LET ME GO LET ME GO—AHAHAHAHAGH STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” Jisung screeched, a laughing, flailing mess as Chan really used the tips of his fingers to taser at the skin. 

“THEHEHEHE TIHIHIHIMERRR!!” Jisung wailed as a last resort, and the second Chan stopped, the sound of the ringing became clear. 

“Whoops…sorry Sung,” Chan grinned sheepishly as everyone released the quokka’s limbs. 

“You’re all…soho evil…” Sungie panted. 

Minho had been quietly observing the chaos from the corner of the room, his arms crossed and his face set in a neutral expression, though his sharp eyes betrayed a hint of amusement. 

He’d been smart enough to stay out of the fray while everyone else fell victim one by one, but as the group’s focus began to shift in his direction, his confidence faltered.

“What about Minho hyung?” Jeongin said suddenly, an impish grin spreading across his face as he wiped at the tears still clinging to his cheeks. “He’s been awfully quiet over there.”

Minho’s eyes darted to the grinning maknae, and he was already planning exactly where he’s wreck him until the boy was a giggling, howling mess. 

“Yes, I saved the best for last.” Chan grinned, cracking his knuckles. Minho felt a spike of nervousness spread through his system. 

He let himself be dragged to the center. What? He was already gonna be wrecked anyway, might as well save the energy fighting to actially survive the wrecking.

Minho groaned as Jisung cleared his throat. “I have a very special announcement for you, Channie hyung.” 

Minho shot his head up, pleading with his eyes to Jisung to not tell him. Don’t tell him. Please—

“Minho hyung has this really adorable habit of flapping his hand whenever he gets overwhelmed while being tickled.” Sungie blabbed joyfully. 

Screw you, Han Jisung. 

“Oh, really?” Chan smiled down at Minho, who frantically shook his head, biting his lip to seal his mouth closed as the leader directed the others to pull the dancer’s knees away from each other. 

“Such ticklish thighs, aren’t they?” 

Minho nearly screeched in response, and he’s never felt so much fear in one moment. Laughter exploded out of him the minute Chan’s hands clamped down on the firm muscle of his thighs. 

“NOHOHOHOHOHOTT THEHEHEHEHEERE!!” Minho screeched as Chan squeezed, and the leader watched as Min’s fists clenched in a desperate attempt to alleviate the ticklish sensations. And to possibly hide that flapping of his. 

Channie cooed, slipping his fingers under the capri pant leg to truly access that sensitive area right above Minho’s knee with his nails. The poor boy went absolutely ballistic, thrashing as laughter poured out of him endlessly. 

Then it happened. 

Minho’s fingers splayed free and his hands began to flap erratically in a desperate, frantic motion as he cackled in the background. 

Chan felt his heart nearly explode with how much it swelled. “Awwww…you’re so cute, Minho-yah…”

Minho kicked his legs out, a mess of laughter and adorable squeals as his hands continued to flap in tiny, fluttering motions, fingers closing and opening in frantic desperation.  

“IHIHIHIM NOHOHOHOT CUUHUHUHUHUTE!!” Minho wailed, tears spilling down his cheeks as Channie’s nails teased at his sensitive thighs, massaging circles deep into the firm skin and sending Minho into a screaming, thrashing frenzy of laughter. 

The timer rang faintly, but Chan continued going until he was satisfied at how much he had tickled the fight out of Minho. 

“That habit of yours,” Chan chuckled. “Cutest fucking thing ever.” 

Minho blushed a deep red at the ears, shoving at Chan’s arm as he panted, gasping for air. “You’re welcome I didn’t put up a fight, dipshit,” Minho melted as Chan hugged him tight. 

Ler mood: 0/10 — Satiated. 

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 7

It was a nice sunny day in Gotham, Alfred had set up a family picnic in the gardens of the manor. For the most part it was peaceful, Dick, Jason, and Tim had only gotten into five distinct arguments/fights in the last hour, Cass and Barbara were meditating under a tree, Steph was suntanning, Duke was enjoying the food Alfred made, Damian was giving Danny another lesson on swordsmanship.

As for Bruce, he was happy seeing his family get along and getting a chance to relax and have fun. He quietly wished that this day could continue without any unexpected surprises.

A green portal opened above them and a white and green blur came out of it and pounced on Danny. Danny stumbled to the floor with a white-haired, green-eyes girl on top of him.

Danny: Ellie!

Ellie: Danny!

They got up and hugged.

Ellie: I've missed you!

Danny: I've missed you too.

They got up.

Ellie: So this is your new family?

Danny looked around to see the rest of the batfam ready to fight.

Ellie: Jumpy aren't they?

Danny: Yeah they are. He looked at Ellie. Ellie if you don't mind can you detransforms? We're currently just together as civilians.

Ellie: Sure thing. Ellie detransformed.

Danny: Everyone this is Ellie, my clone/little sister. Ellie this is my family.

The Bats looked at Danny and Ellie back and forth.

Ellie: You didn't tell them about me did you?

Danny: I could have sworn that I did.

Jason: No Danny you did not!

Danny: Ellie this is my dad Jason.

Ellie (running up to Jason, giving him a hug): Hi! Danny's told me so much about you in his letters!

Jason: Hi, good to meet you too. Jason looked down at her. So... you're a clone?

Ellie: Yeah, I was created by Vlad back when he was still evil. We're all chill now.

Jason (looking at Danny): Kid, how could you not mention you have a sister?

Ellie: Well he doesn't have A sister.

Jason: Danny!?

Danny: I have another sister, an older one, her name is Jazz, she's 19 and lives in Metropolis. I sometimes fly over there to visit her.

Jason: Kid!

Danny: Sorry, Jazz doesn't want to be involved with this superhero stuff while she's in college unless she really needs to, and Ellie lives in the Infinite Realms full-time.

Jason: ...I can't even be mad, this is exactly the kind of thing I would pull.

Ellie: You're family is weird.

Danny: And I love them all the same.

Alfred: Miss Ellie would you like to join our picnic?

Ellie: Oh I wouldn't want to intrude.

Damian: You came out of a portal, and attacked my nephew and pupil, disrupting our lesson, you have intruded.

Ellie: Damian I presume?

Damian: Indeed.

Ellie (choosing chaos): Danny also writes about you, you're his favorite uncle.

Dick and Tim: WHAT!?

Damian: I am?

Ellie: Yes, he loves going on patrol with you and your swordsmanship lessons.

Damian: ...You are welcomed to stay as long as you like, niece.

Ellie: Thank you.

Ellie walked towards the picnic table and started eating some strawberries. Meanwhile Dick and Tim approached Danny.

Dick and Tim: Explain yourself!

Danny: She's lying I don't have a favorite! [Internally: Ellie's not wrong that Damian's my favorite, but I've never written that down!]

Dick: Good, because we all know I'm your favorite.

Tim: In your dreams Richard, I am.

Dick: No you're not Timothy.

Tim: Yes I am.

Dick: No you're not!

Dick rushed towards Tim and the two started fighting.

Damian: Let's continue our lesson Danny, we've wasted valuable time, we don't need to watch does two fight it out for the sixth time in the last hour.

Danny: Yes sir!

Alfred: Master Duke, thank you for not losing your composure.

Duke: Too busy eating right now to care.

Bruce (on the brink of tears): Why does the universe hate me? Why can't we have one normal day?

(Master Post)

[vijaxx]

never felt so alone

summary: months after you got jumped, everything comes back when the girl who jumped you talks to your best friend

warnings: angst, fluff, semi graphic descriptions of being jumped, comfort, sadness, dealing with trauma (physically and mentally)

the footsteps echoed as she ran up to you. you couldn’t figure out what was about to happen. you didn’t have time. you’ve never been in a fight before. you hadn’t interacted with this girl for weeks. why was she going to do this?

her strong hands grabbed on your curls and handle of your backpack, shoving you harshly on the ground. dazed and confused, you curled up instinctively, body shaking as she grabs your bag again and kicks you. not with the intent to leave bruises. or at least, not when she was being recorded.

she kicked you and screamed at you, all while you tried to understand what was going on.

“shut the camera off!” she screeched at the person recording, who quickly complied, holding her bag for her.

she made quick time of actually kicking you, before getting bored. this had been planned.

she was close behind you since you left school. her house was close by so she could run, and it was a very busy street.

as she picked up your backpack, she threw you off of the curb, trying to gather your thoughts as she kicked you into the street with only one intention.

she wanted to kill you. she wanted you to die at that very moment, to get hit by a car.

and a couple minutes once she came, she left. like nothing had happened. and your best friend watched the whole thing.

now, three months later, she was trying to reach your best friend. she needed to talk to her.

a sick, uneasy feeling pooled in your stomach, tears brimming in your eyes as you remember how the video went viral. it went through your school district and then spread to others. walking through the halls two days after as people laughed and said comments like “fucking pussy”, or “i wish they actually got hit by a car”.

the sting of losing all of your friends, ones who you trusted with your life, smirking and saying how they wished you were killed.

it was you, your best friend, and billie.

“baby”, billie said, placing a hand on your thigh. “what’s going on? you’re zoning out. you didn’t even answer me when i asked if you wanted to have japanese food tonight. and that’s your favorite!” her blue eyes made gentle, yet powerful contact with yours, a way of saying, “don’t bullshit me, something’s wrong” but also “i’m here for you. i’m your girlfriend”.

you hugged your knees against your chest, sighing as you looked at the texts. “she wants to talk to isla.” you said, spoken monotonely but carrying a hint of worry and sadness. billie didn’t even need to ask who you were referencing, she knew it was the girl who jumped you.

billie never liked the girl, but she soon despised her with her entire being once she put a finger on you, her entire heart made of malice when it came to her.

her gaze softened, her fingertips lightly brushing against her palm as a way to say, “may i hold you?”. you leaned into her embrace.

her arms were shaky as she tried to wrap you in a comforting cocoon while staying acutely aware of the reflexes the acknowledgment of the trauma brought.

you sobbed lightly into her shirt as she hummed her songs to you, comfortably gliding her hand down your spine, smiling at the way you shivered when she touched you so intametely.

after fifteen minutes of crying, she cupped your cheeks and kissed your dried tears, leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, your swollen, puffy, and pink eyelids closing as you melted into her.

“i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and you began to believe her.

a/n: hi this is a very personal story because this is based on my life. this is a real event that happened to me, and i had warned staff and administrators of hate crime threats being thrown my way, never being taken seriously. then, after actually being hate crimed, the never sought justice for me. i hope you enjoyed the fic <3

taglist: @47lake @hkkuugu @st0nerIesb0 @n0vabug @everythingtruly @darkside-0f-the-sun @vyntagess

[bostoncreamdonut]

“Disliking Caitlyn but not Silco is just misogyny.”

LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER!!!

Let me preface this by saying that I don’t care if people like Caitlyn. You can like characters who have done wrong— hell, my favorite is, in fact, Silco. There’s nothing wrong with that. Second, just because a character is well-written doesn’t mean people have to like them. I think Silco is amazingly written, and I like him, but I also acknowledge his wrongdoings and don’t deny the harm he caused. The same goes for Jinx. So, why don’t I like Caitlyn?

Because Silco and Jinx are a byproduct of their environment. The result of systematic oppression, neglect, and inequality at the hands of Piltover. They cracked, and we can understand why and how someone could break in that environment. How they could turn to aggression after living like that their entire lives. Piltover is safe, clean, and livable at their expense. People aren’t living in Zaun, they are surviving.

Caitlyn didn’t have it nearly as bad to justify her actions. Yes, losing her mother was horrible, but that doesn’t excuse how quickly she turned on Zaun. One Zaunite killed her mother (edit: amongst other things that she experienced, but I believe her mom’s death was what ultimately dictated her decisions in S2), and suddenly, she’s making a group suffer for it, including Vi. Can you imagine how many kids in Zaun have been orphaned because of the toxic environment and oppression they face every day? Caitlyn’s reaction is so drastic, especially considering her experience mirrors the harsh realities that Zaunites are forced to endure all the time.

This is also why I dislike CaitVi when I think about it for more than a second, to be honest.

Also, people do NOT have to explain why they dislike characters/ships.

(I’m just in a yappy mood.)

Sometimes it’s just a feeling, maybe personal bias, maybe they just don’t care to explain, etc. That’s okay.

You will live if people dislike your favs, I promise. [pats back]

Do I writhe on the ground when I see Silco hate? Maybe… Can I accept others hate him? Yeah! (In his case, I don’t even need to ask why.)

Let me know if you think I missed any crucial points or made a mistake! My memory is not the best but I have rewatched recently so I hope it served me well today. Honestly, I don’t want to upset people, this has just been bothering me for a while. I really dislike some Caitlyn stans’ reactions to criticism of her.

Okay, I think I’m done. See ya!

[thedemoninme141]

Her Heartbeat; Chapter 21: Her Life.

Parings: Wednesday x Fem reader. Wordcount: 3.5k-ish?

Summary: It's time.

Warnings: Angst. That's it, brace yourselves.

Chapter 1 ------- Previous Chapter

Her Heartbeat's Chapterlist.

Worklist

“I want to try the surgery.”

You had said that, to Wednesday.

It wasn’t just the words, it was the way you said them. Firm, steady, like a decision carved into stone. Like no amount of reasoning, no number of planned arguments could sway you.

Wednesday had tried. She had tried with everything she had to make you understand. To make you see.

“You don’t have to do this,” she had said, her voice low but trembling with a rare desperation. “There are other options. Better ones. I can find you a replacement heart. I’ll do whatever it takes. You just have to let me—”

You’d cut her off, shaking your head with that infuriatingly gentle expression that made her feel like you were the one comforting her.

“I don’t want a replacement heart, Wednesday.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms.

“That’s ridiculous,” she hissed. “Do you even hear yourself? This isn’t a matter of want. It’s a matter of necessity. Your heart is failing, Y/N. Do you understand what that means?”

“It means I’m dying, Wednesday. I know that.”

Something inside her cracked at your words, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she pressed forward, her voice rising. “Then why won’t you let me help you? Why won’t you even consider—”

“Because I don’t want someone else’s heart!” Your voice, normally so calm, had risen, “I don’t want to take that chance away from someone, to take a heart that someone else might need more than I do. Someone who could have a long, healthy life ahead of them. Someone who deserves it more.”

“You think you don’t deserve it?”

You looked at her then, your eyes filled with a sadness that made her want to scream.

“It’s not about that,” you said quietly. “I want my heart to work perfectly fine. I want to try and fix what I already have. I don’t want to rely on someone else’s sacrifice to keep me alive.”

“That’s… that’s absurd.” She stumbled over the words, her composure slipping further. “You’re gambling with your life for some misplaced sense of…of morality? You think this is noble, but it’s selfish!”

Your eyes widened slightly at her words, and for the first time in the conversation, you looked hurt. “Selfish?” you echoed, your voice quieter now.

“Yes, selfish!” Wednesday snapped, her voice breaking. “Because you’re not the only one affected by this. You’re not the only one who will lose if this surgery fails. Did you even think about that? Did you think about me?”

“Wednesday…”

“No!” she interrupted, her voice trembling. “You don’t care. You don’t care what this will do to me. If you did, you wouldn’t even be considering this. You’re so focused on what you think is right that you’re not thinking about the people who….who love you.”

There it was. The thing she hadn’t wanted to say but couldn’t stop from spilling out.

For a moment, you just stared at her, your expression unreadable. Then, slowly, you shook your head. “That’s not fair,” you said softly. “You know that’s not true. I care about you, Wednesday. I care about you more than anything.”

“Then why won’t you let me save you?” Her voice cracked, and she hated how small it sounded. How vulnerable.

“Because it’s my life, Wednesday. My decision. And I need you to understand that.” you said, your voice steady again.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

“You don’t care,” she had said finally, her voice cold and hollow. “You don’t care about me at all.”

The look on your face in that moment, shock, hurt, something deeper she couldn’t name, it had cut her deeper than she thought possible.

And now, standing in your dorm room the next night, You were on the balcony, bathed in moonlight, your arms resting on the railing as you stared out into the night.

Wednesday replayed those words over and over in her mind.

You don’t care about me at all.

It wasn’t true. She knew that. Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. But in her frustration, her fear, it had felt like the only way to make you see how much this was destroying her.

She hadn’t spoken to you all day. She didn’t know what to say, how to fix the mess she had made. She had just sat on the edge of her bed, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

She had replayed the fight over and over in her mind, dissecting every word, every look, every flicker of emotion on your face. The anger, the frustration, the hurt, it all twisted inside her like a knife.

When the sun set, and the moon rose, she had finally stood and made her way to your dorm.

You turned now, sensing her presence. Your eyes met hers, and you smiled softly, a gentle, tentative expression that only deepened the ache in her chest.

Wednesday stepped forward before she could think better of it, and when she stopped, she was only a few feet away from you. For a moment, she simply stood there, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

“I… I shouldn’t have said what I did,” she finally admitted, her voice quiet but steady. It wasn’t easy for her to apologize, but she owed you this much. “It wasn’t fair. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.” you said, your expression softening.

“I’ve never felt fear before,” she began, her voice quieter now. “Not real fear. Not like this. But every time I think about losing you, it’s like… it’s like I can’t breathe. Like the ground is crumbling beneath me, and I can’t stop it.”

“Wednesday…”

She closed her eyes, her jaw clenching as she tried to hold herself together.

“I’m terrified,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “And I hate it. I hate feeling this way. But I can’t stop. Because I love you, and the thought of you, of you being gone, it’s more than I can handle. I’m scared of losing you. Of not being enough to keep you here.”

“You are enough,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “You’ve always been enough. But this… this is something I have to do for myself. And I need you with me, Wednesday. I need you to believe in me.”

She opened her eyes, her gaze locking with yours. For a long moment, she didn’t speak. Then, slowly, she nodded. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered. “But I’ll try. For you.”

You smiled, your hand tightening around hers. “That’s all I need.”

Wednesday stepped closer, her free hand reaching up to cup your face. You leaned into her touch, your eyes brimming with tears. And as you stood there, under the moonlight, holding each other close, Wednesday felt something shift inside her. The fear was still there, gnawing at her, but for the first time, it didn’t feel quite so suffocating.

You had called your dad the next day and told him about your decision. He had tried to make you understand the risks too. He had argued, pleaded, tried to reason with you. But in the end, he couldn’t say no. He never could say no to you.

And now it was happening; A week.

A week was all she had left with you before you’d be admitted to the hospital for the surgery that had haunted her thoughts since the moment you said you wanted to try it.

Seven days that felt like grains of sand slipping through her fingers, no matter how tightly she tried to hold on. Like a cruel countdown in her mind, each one ticking away faster than the last. Every moment spent with you felt stolen.

What if this was all the time she had left with you? What if…? No. She couldn’t finish that thought. Wouldn’t.

Instead, she planned.

She had taken you to your special place. The fireflies blinked softly around you. She had borrowed Enid’s music box, and Thing had been enlisted to set the mood.

Wednesday’s lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, a rare and precious thing. “It seems we have a habit of leaving things unfinished, but not this time.”

You turned back to look at her, confused.

“Dance with me,” Wednesday said.

You smiled, that smile that always made her feel like the world was just a little less terrible, and took her outstretched hand.

The rhythm was slow, intimate, as the two of you swayed in the soft glow of fireflies. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, yet unguarded. She felt a weight settle in her chest. But it wasn’t the suffocating kind she had grown used to. It was different, warmer.

She thought of the Raven, of how that moment had been stolen from her. But now, here, with nothing but the soft music and the glow of fireflies around you, she didn’t feel robbed. She felt… whole.

The fireflies drifted lazily around you, their light catching in your hair as the two of you swayed. Wednesday’s eyes never left yours. She could feel it, your heartbeat against her own.

The sand beneath her boots was irritating her in a way that beaches always did. But now, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Wednesday found that she didn’t care.

You stood beside her, your hand brushing against hers. She wasn’t focused on the way it stuck to everything or how the salty breeze stung her skin. All she felt was the warmth of your presence, and it was enough to make her forget everything else.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you asked, your voice soft, almost reverent.

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes fixed on the horizon. “It’s acceptable,” she replied, her tone even. “Though I fail to see how the gradual disappearance of a celestial body could evoke such sentimentality.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of life, and it sent a strange pang through her chest. “You didn't have to ruin the moment with logic, Wednesday.”

She glanced at you then and didn't bother to hide her smile anymore. Just you, just for you.

The music continued to play as you danced, Wednesday’s hands rested on your waist, her touch careful, almost hesitant, as if she were afraid you might break beneath her fingers.

She studied your face, every detail, every line and curve, committing it to memory as if she were afraid it might disappear.

She looked into your eyes and felt it, the world fading away.

There was so much she wanted to tell you, so much she wanted to show you. But the words felt too big, too heavy to say out loud.

“I wish I could stop time,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Why?”

“So I could stay here,” she admitted, her gaze never leaving yours. “With you.”

Your smile faltered slightly, and you reached up to cup her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, Wednesday,” you said softly.

Wednesday stayed where she was, her arms crossed over her chest, watching you as you ran toward the waves, laughing as the water lapped at your toes.

You turned back to her, “Come on, Wends! Live a little!”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t move, content to watch as you splashed in the shallows.

For a moment, she let herself imagine a different reality. One where you weren’t facing an impossible decision. One where you were both standing here, on this beach, without the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders.

But reality came crashing back, as it always did.

Your head rested lightly against her shoulder, and Wednesday felt the soft flutter of your breath against her neck. It was unbearable, this closeness. And yet, it was the only thing she wants to last forever.

She glanced at one of the blue butterflies fluttering nearby,

Save a life.

She still didn’t know what that wish on your list had meant. But right now, none of it mattered. All she cared about was you. Holding you. Dancing with you. Just this once. Just this lifetime.

The stars were out and you were lying on the grass beside her, your hand resting lightly against hers.

“Dad told me something interesting today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Hm?”

“He was planning to sell the old house to help pay for the surgery.”

Wednesday turned her head slightly to look at you, She didn’t like the idea of you losing something so important, something tied to the memories you held so close. That's why she did it.

“But,” you continued, a hint of amusement in your voice, “the bank called him this morning. Apparently, he won some kind of giveaway. Enough money to cover what he was missing.”

Wednesday’s gaze flicked back to the stars, her expression carefully neutral. She didn’t say anything, but a faint flicker of satisfaction warmed her chest.

“Pretty lucky, huh?” you said, your tone teasing as if you suspected something.

“Extremely,” she replied, her voice as flat as ever.

The music was slowing now, the final notes were saying their goodbyes. But Wednesday didn’t care. She didn’t need music to hold you like this, to memorize the feel of you in her arms and the way your smile lit up the night.

Wednesday held you close, her arms wrapped around you as though she could shield you from everything—the world, the future, even death itself.

“You’ll always have me, you know,” you murmured,

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“Here,” you said, gesturing around you. “In our special place. No matter what happens, I’ll always be here.”

The weight of your words hit her like a tidal wave, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. “Don’t talk like that,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’m not trying to upset you,” you said gently. “I just want you to know that this place will always be ours.”

She didn’t respond, couldn’t find the words. Instead, she leaned in, capturing your lips. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss; it was fervent and almost bruising, filled with everything she couldn’t put into words. Her lips moved against yours with a kind of urgency that bordered on desperation, as if pouring every unspoken fear, every unyielding desire, into this single moment.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up to cup her face, your thumbs brushing away tears she hadn’t even realized were falling.

You and her. Just you an her.

All the pain, the longing, the love—it was all there, laid bare between the two of you.

When she finally pulled away, her forehead rested against yours again, her breath uneven. Your hands stayed on her cheeks, your touch grounding her in a way nothing else could.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “Not in the way you think.”

She closed her eyes tightly, her jaw clenching as she fought against the tears.

“You don’t know that,” she said, her voice barely audible. “You can’t promise that.”

You smiled softly, “Maybe not. But I can promise you this—I’ll always be with you, Wednesday. In our place, in your memories, in everything we’ve shared. I’m not going anywhere from them.”

Wednesday’s breath hitched, her resolve crumbling as she nodded, unable to find the words to express everything she felt. She kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second, every taste, every feeling. It wasn’t about desperation anymore—it was about love, raw and unfiltered, spilling out between the two of you.

Just one lifetime. Just one lifetime with you. It wasn’t enough, but it was all she could ask for.

It didn’t feel real.

The week had come and gone. She thought she would feel every excruciating second leading up to this moment, every tick of the clock as a weight pressing harder and harder on her chest.

But now, standing here, staring at the sterile white walls of the hospital, it felt as if the time had been stolen from her.

Seven days? No, it hadn’t been seven days, it had been seven minutes, barely enough time to breathe. How could it be time already? How could it be now?

Her hands were clasped tightly in front of her, the faint tremble in her fingers betraying the storm raging inside her. She had spent the entire week trying to prepare herself, to convince herself she could handle this. She had tried to keep her composure, to hold onto that cold, unshakable demeanor she had perfected over the years.

But now, standing here, all of that armor felt meaningless. You were going into surgery. And there was absolutely nothing she could do to protect you.

“I love you,” you had whispered, your voice barely audible “Forever.”

Forever. A concept that felt foreign, hollow, when she knew forever was slipping through her fingers. She clung to your hand as if holding on tight enough might root you to this world, to her.

But then you were gone, taken through the double doors, your hand slipping from hers with a finality that left her rooted to the floor.

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words lodged themselves in her throat, refusing to come out. She wanted to scream, to demand that you stop, to beg you not to go in there, not to leave her. Instead, She didn’t move, didn’t follow, didn’t breathe. The waiting room seemed impossibly far away, her limbs heavy as if she’d been chained to the spot. Enid’s gentle hand on her shoulder barely registered.

Your father sat across from her, his face pale and drawn, his hands shaking as he gripped a cup of coffee he hadn’t touched. To her left, Enid was biting her nails that she loved so much, her eyes darting nervously toward the clock on the wall. Bianca, Yoko, Eugene—everyone was here.

Even David and a few others from the therapy group had shown up, showing how deeply you had touched their lives.

But Wednesday felt utterly alone.

Wednesday couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. She stood there, still as a statue, her dark eyes locked on the door that separated her from you. Her mind replayed every moment, every word you’d shared, every look, every touch.

Your smile, the way it lit up the darkest corners of her soul.

Your laugh, the sound that melted the ice in her chest.

Your words, soft and teasing, but always filled with warmth.

And your love. Your relentless, unyielding love, the kind she had never believed herself worthy of.

She clenched her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms. “Come back to me,” she whispered, the plea falling from her lips like a prayer. She wasn’t one to beg, wasn’t one to ask for anything from the universe. But for you, she’d do anything. For you, she’d ask.

Four hours and fourteen minutes.

That’s how long it had been since they took you. Wednesday didn’t know how she knew the exact time; perhaps it was her body’s cruel way of keeping her tethered to the agony of waiting.

And then it hit her.

Save a life

It wasn’t about her at all. It was never about her.

The blue butterfly wasn’t reaching for the black one.

It was the other way around.

The black butterfly, battered and misunderstood, had stretched its wings toward the fragile blue one, desperate to keep it from fading.

You had wanted her to see it all along. That she wasn’t the monster she so often believed herself to be. That she wasn’t destined to destroy everything she touched.

It was about her saving you.

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, and she didn't fight them, she was tired of fighting them. She let them fall, silent streaks down her pale cheeks as she stood there, staring at the doors, willing them to open.

And then they did.

[So this is it huh? The next chapter will be the final one.]

Taglist: @ognenniyvolk @mally-ka @protozoario @machyishere @freakshow2501 @101rizzlrr

[bloggerspam]

"So, like." Steph oh so nonchalantly starts, stirring her melting froyo to the toppings mix in. "Since we're all official now…"

"Yeah..?" Val draws out the vowels, unsure of where her (new!) girlfriend (girlfriend!!!) is going with this conversation.

Steph opens her mouth, closes it. Starts to say something, stops. Opens her mouth again, only to slump as she stuffed another bite of her froyo into her mouth.

"I know the whole girlfriend-girlfriend thing is new and all," Val furrows her brow, "But we were friends first, y'know. Whatever it is," Val sets down her froyo to lay a hand gently on Steph's wrist on the table. "You can talk to me."

Steph looks up into Val's eyes, hopefully seeing her sincerity, and they lose time like that for a moment. Val could drown in those diamond blues, and thank whatever higher beings exist for it.

Steph blinks, coughing with a lovely blush on her face before she dons on a determined expression. "Jason said that you knew—about, well…"

Val relaxes, finally understanding what the issue is. "Your night shift?"

"Yes!" Steph slumps in relief. "Yeah. Well—he said you knew about his night job, but I'm—I'm glad you know about mine too."

"It wasn't that hard of a stretch. From what he says you guys know about Amity Park too, right?" Val rubs her thumb up and down Steph's warm skin.

"Yeah, 'course." Steph grins, taking another bite of her froyo and humming happily. She even does a happy little wiggle, she's so cute Val might die.

Maybe Danny can find her in the Realms and bring her back?

"It was a little hard, considering Phantom doesn't really capture well on digital, but we had our suspicions, especially when the accident was well documented at the hospital.

Val nods, leaning back and taking her own bite of her froyo before it completely becomes slop. "Bet it didn't help that Huntress avoided cameras like an expert," Val smirks, before it turns wry. "And fought like cats and dogs at first."

"I was surprised Sam hated Phantom, actually." Steph tilts her head, making a face and completely missing Val's expression. "Jason was convinced they were there during Danny's accident."

Val isn't sure what to say to that, because it sounds like…it sounds like Steph thinks…?

"Speaking of—" Steph beams at Val, blinding her in her already poor state of confusion, "Will you tell Sam if she wants to get back in the game over in Metropolis, we can put her in contact with the Supers to talk about it?"

"You want me to tell Sam this…" Val says slowly, "…because you think Sam is Huntress?"

"Uh…yeah?" Steph hesitates, before ticking off her points with her fingers. "Their fighting styles match, she's got Tucker for the hoverboard, body type is closer—"

"Body type???" Val confusedly asks to herself, Steph still listing a baffling amount of things that support her theory.

Val cuts in louder. "Out of curiousity, how did I factor in?"

Steph pauses at the interruption, blinking. "I mean—you went out with Danny right?"

"That's it??" Val incredulously asks. Steph hunches her shoulders.

"That's how I got in the game??" Steph puts down her empty froyo cup with a hollow thunk. "I was dating Red Robin before even knowing his identity, and then eventually, made my own Robin costume and made Batman hire me."

"That's actually very hot of you," Val says, though she's still confused as fuck. "I would never be able to date a vigi in their mask. Too much stress circling around secret identities."

"I threw a brick at him once for like, stalking me." Steph bares her teeth, looking Val up and down salaciously, "And masks don't bother me all that much.

Val feels her face heat before she manages to get a hold of herself. She wonders if that opinion will hold when it comes to full face helmets.

"Sam's not Huntress." Val decides to nip this in the bud, froyo abandoned into a wet glop. "And I'm going to take you to bed so I can really show you about body types."

Steph gapes at her, satisfyingly red in both mortification and, if frantic glances along Val'd body mean anything, arousal.

"Yes." Steph rasps. "Yes please."

Val wastes no time, grabbing Steph's wrist and tossing their trash on their way out the froyo place.

"I know it's technically our first date," Val says over her shoulder, handing Steph her helmet once they arrive at Val's bike. "And usually I'm supposed to wait for the third date—"

"Fuck that." Steph practically jumps on the bike behind her, wrapping her arms deliciously around Val. "We've been dating for months now, take me to bed."

"You got it babe." Val grins in her own helmet, revving the engine. "Hang tight."

The shoot off with laughter and glee in a mess of bike fumes and dust.

Mechanic! Val AU Extras!

I decided to create a whole new post for the extras, apart from the main story. Sorry If the reblog confused anyone!

But hey, i finally got the inspiration to write this scene out!

It's really bad and rushed because I JUST finished it, but its done and i am not changing it. <3

Also on AO3 :)

===

Jason has a plan.

He fidgets with the box of chocolates in his hands, waiting for the door to open. Danny had said he understood, in his texts, had reacted positively to Jason asking to see him, to celebrate Danny's move.

But text can only go so far, and the subtext is actively trying to murder Jason via anxiety and guilt.

Jason's not 100% sure, basically, that Danny knows Jason likes him. The misunderstanding was cleared, but the uncertainty has not.

Jason had a plan, a big one. He was going to take Danny, just the two of them, to the Gotham Observatory to celebrate the move. He was going to lead Danny through the exhibits that he had researched thoroughly before hand, and then take him to dinner at this little hole in the wall Italian place, with the perfect mood lighting and atmosphere for a cozy little dish of spaghetti. Maybe joke about Lady and the Tramp, tell Danny he's pretty.

He was going to ask Danny to be his boyfriend, cuddled up together in the ambient candle lights in his best leather jacket and a little moon rock pendant, to the moon and back and all that. It was going to be perfect, it was going to be good.

And then, maybe, in the far off future Jason could…could let Danny in. Let him know he knows about Phantom, despite Steph's doubts. Slowly start teasing Danny about Red Hood and Jason Todd being on his Hall Pass list.

But then Talia had snitched on Timbers, taunted Jason about how his little replacement was so very hard to catch before throwing a knife at his head.

And then the misunderstanding happened, and Val with the Red Hood reveal, and—

And Jason had a plan, but the plan went to shit.

But Jason is a Bat, against all fucking odds, and so he pivoted, adjusted, re-calibrated the entire time he was working on that stupid Mazda.

The new plan is sound. The new plan is a little slapshot, but it works, and Jason has been practicing his heartfelt apology and subsequent love confession for the last two hours.

The door opens, Danny looking worse for wear. He looks sad, downtrodden, and hurt. Eye red-rimmed and skin a pallor that insomniacs love to don, lips chapped and bitten to all hell. His hair is all over the place, and his voice creaks and cracks when it asks who is it? before the door is even fully open, and Jason thinks he'll have to tell Danny not to do that in Gotham, to check before opening the door because it's not safe and—

And Danny is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, eyes widening upon seeing him, looking flustered and embarrassed to be seen in "such a state."

Jason practiced, he reminds himself, for two hours.

The door opens, and Jason opens his mouth before Danny can even greet him.

"I'm Red Hood!" His voice squeaks at a pitch it's never squeaked before, "I'm Red Hood, you're Phantom, and I'm desperately hoping you understand that I'm an idiot and I was being chased by three ninja assassins and had bloody gloves and couldn't text properly."

Danny is speechless, Jason can see this by the way his mouth flaps open and shut but no sound comes out. Jason is about to crawl out of his own fucking skin. He doesn't remember what his speech was before. He pivots.

"I know I should have waited," He continues, and despite all the training he's so panicked he possibly can't even see anymore, "But I don't like making you wait if I can help it because I'm kind of desperately in love with you?"

There's a long silence.

"Was that a question?" A different voice calls out from behind Danny. Tucker, he thinks.

"No!" Fuck, his face is burning. He looks Danny in the eyes, tries to convey confidence. "I am desperately in love with you."

He stands there, just for a moment, before remembering the chocolates and shoving them gentle into Danny's chest, who takes it with a startled blink. "I got you chocolates. To say sorry, and that I like you."

Danny looks down on at the box, a novelty thing. They're fancy, high quality, shaped into the different moons of Jupiter. Jason had them custom made for the Observatory date.

"I—" Danny pauses, still seeming to process things as he stares at the chocolates in his hand, using his other hand to try and pat down his hair. He's beautiful, and Jason hates that he made him feel any type of negative feelings at all.

"It's okay," Danny finally settles on, smiling softly at him. Jason's insides feel like molten lava. "It was just a misunderstanding."

"Yeah," Jason smiles helplessly back, "But it still hurt you."

Before Danny can say anything to that, he's yanked back into the apartment. Jason reaches out, instinctively, before catching himself.

Sam stands in the doorway with her arms crossed and a scowl that could curdle milk.

Jason swallows dry spit.

"You did hurt him." Sam's voice is so low Jason could scoop it off the floor, "And Danny might forgive you, and Val might have let you off easy, but I don't like it when people hurt my friends."

Behind her, Jason can see Danny being dragged away by Tucker, who gives him a two fingered salute and a wink.

Well. Fuck.

Jason's got a long time to grovel before he can see Danny again, he can tell.

Jason takes a deep breath. It'll be worth it.

Because when all is said and done, he's gonna ask Danny to be his boyfriend.

By the way Danny blows him an apologetic kiss, he's fairly confident they'll be fine.

He catches the kiss and puts it in his pocket, ignoring Sam's rolling eyes, and prepares himself.

Jason, after all, has a plan.

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

I’ve tried to word and reword this post at least a dozen times. I’m not sure I’ll ever quite capture what Charles means to me in one attempt, but here goes:

That scene on the side of the agency where Charles is asking Edwin what would happen if death caught them was probably the moment I decided I loved him- same hat, I thought. I have racing thoughts and fears of being separated from my loved ones too. 

Same hat.

I didn’t realize what an understatement that was. 

We made it to the Devlin house episode. As Charles talked about his favorite tape being destroyed and struggled through reading the Devlin daughter’s journal, I realized his home life wasn’t as idyllic as he’d wanted us to think. He’d been walking on eggshells- I could relate to that. Sometimes I wonder if he was afraid to tell Edwin because he thought he would love him less. (Sometimes I worry in the back of my mind if I tell anyone, things I did years ago to survive would make them love me less).

My heart went out to him.

Right after that, he must have wondered if he was losing Edwin to Monty. A tiny, tiny piece of me that grew up as no-one’s-best-friend, just-the-afterthought, understood him. I wondered if it would be worse to lose a best friend, actually, than to never have one. I am okay now. But there’s a part of you that is forever worried that you did something wrong.

And next episode his fears are heightened. We see why- he’s never thought he was enough. His home life was brutal. He had friends, but they are what killed him. Nothing he ever did was “enough”, and now he’s sure he’s losing his best friend even though he did everything he could to protect him. 

There’s something about having an abusive parent that makes it hard to scrub the feeling of “never enough” off of you. It’s no one’s fault but theirs, but all I wanted to do was hold him after that. I see why Edwin tried to reach out. 

Charles has never thought he was enough, no matter how many friends or trophies he had. Of course he went into episode five thinking he was a bad person, even though he isn’t (and I’m so glad Edwin told him, with words, he was not a bad person).

Of course he ended episode six worrying he was about to lose his best friend to a boy that just tried to kill them in the woods— or a shape shifter who trapped them in a town across the sea. 

He does lose Edwin- but not to a boy. To Hell.

So Charles braves letting the night nurse look in his mind again. This moment stood out to me as a viewer- we already saw he died because he prevented a hate crime. He tells Edwin he stepped in and stopped the attack because he’s half Indian (I could go on about how much him being biracial meant to me, but I won’t here). He says he is not that different than the boy being beaten. People are right that Edwin has a strong sense of justice- but so too does Charles. Perhaps that’s why they got on so well right away.

So he rescues Edwin from Hell after persuading The Night Nurse. And as he’s rescuing Edwin from Hell, Edwin finally, finally gets to tell Charles what he wanted to say earlier. 

Sometimes people erroneously think Edwin came out to Charles here. That wasn’t quite what happened- the larger arc people often erase in this story is that Edwin Payne confessed that he loved Charles Rowland. How couldn’t you love Charles Rowland, after all of that? 

And Charles meet him as much as he could. He does love Edwin- he just needs time to figure the rest out. But they have literally forever. And honestly, they seemed like they were off to a pretty good start once they weren’t running from a giant spider made of babydoll heads. 

So, Charles, thank you for making me feel seen. Your smile is pretty convincing. I hope you have fun growing the agency with Edwin, and I hope the afterlife is kind while you figure things out together.

[gatawoman]

Serenity of the Rain

Jason Todd x GN

Hiii guys, two things: 1st, this is my first time writing a story, and 2nd, I’m open to any suggestions or even if you guys want more :)

AN: Reader is a student at the University of Gotham who is trying to become a nurse and has known Jason since her childhood.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　

Pit pat, pit pat. The sound of rain in Gotham is something that you have grown very much accustomed to hearing for as long as you can remember. That still doesn’t mean you aren’t annoyed with it, especially when you have an upcoming test in three days that you’re studying for.

A grunt leaves your lips as you find yourself distracted by every little sound your ears start picking up on: the sirens, the raindrops, the thunder—and your window being lifted up.

Your window being lifted up??

You drop your pen and slowly take the spiked bat Jason gave you as a joke (not really) as a late birthday gift and tiptoe your way to the living room. You see a tall figure entering your living room, and your arm winds up with all the strength you have to swing.

“Drop it. You should know by now it’s me,” Jason says with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah, well, in a city where people go around in makeup or masks with leotards either committing crimes or stopping them, you don’t want to take the gamble, do you?” you snap back, a bit annoyed. It’s not like you don’t want him here. To be honest, as much as you’d hate to say it out loud, having him around always gives you a sense of security and peace of mind. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be in space or something?”

“That was last week,” Jason says with an eyebrow raised. “C’mon, gorgeous. Don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me,” he adds with a smirk.

The minute you’re about to retaliate, you notice something: his hand is holding onto his left side, his stance isn’t as straight, and the little wave of arrogance is replaced with a small, sharp inhale.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You rush to his side without hesitation, and all the annoyance you had leaves your mind, replaced by a blanket of concern.

“During a drug bust on Penguin’s goons, I got a tiny injury—nothing serious,” Jason replies as he slowly removes his hand from the delicate spot.

The minute his hand stops shielding the spot, you’re torn between yelling at him and punching him in the exact same place.

“Jason, a tiny injury is not a bullet wound!” you yell at him. “What’s going to happen if one day I’m not here and I can’t treat you? Who would you go to then? What would you do?” You feel bad, but you can’t help expressing your genuine concern and a bit of anger toward him. You and Jason have known each other since you were kids in Crime Alley. You’ve lost him before and can’t bear the thought of losing him again—or even not being there for him one day. The thought isn’t far-fetched; you live in Gotham, and you’re already proud you’ve made it this far without a freak-show incident happening to you.

And it’s like he can read your mind. His gloved hand reaches out to you. “Hey, look at me,” he says, holding your chin to make you look up at him. “Don’t you ever say that. I would never let anyone even touch a single hair on you, Y/N.” Jason’s voice, now serious and stern, somehow makes you even angrier.

You bite your tongue and guide him to the bathroom where you keep your first aid kit.

And you feel like you’re back to square one trying to concentrate on your work, this time on the needle you’re using to stitch up his wound. Your hands are shaky, and the room holds the noise of your uneven breath as you try to find a normal pattern. All you can think about is what if. What if you can’t be there for him one day? What if you lose him again? What if you never get the chance to say how you felt the minute his green eyes met yours in Crime Alley? It sometimes feels like you’re racing against time, but you’re losing. And, come on, you don’t even have any real combat knowledge—just some experience from street fights as a kid.

“Ouch.”

Your hand halts as you make eye contact with Jason.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, Jay.” Great, you’ve caused the guy even more collateral damage.

“I’m joking. Just wanted to calm that little mind of yours. What’s going on in there, huh?” Jason’s eyes are filled with concern.

How do you even respond to that? Oh, nothing. You know, just thinking about how I might lose my best friend again without telling him I’m deeply in love with him. Totally normal. Yeah, no. Instead, you go with your go-to answer in these scenarios:

“Nothing’s going on. I’m just tired, Jay,” you say in the most neutral tone you can muster.

“Now you know, Y/N, I can tell when you’re lying,” Jason replies, his voice soft and delicate.

As you start putting your equipment away, you can’t help the annoying feeling of your chest becoming heavier and your eyes stinging as you fight tears. And it’s like he senses the shift in your emotions. Two strong arms wrap around you.

Silence takes over the room as your tears seep into Jason’s t-shirt. Not that you cry often, but when you do, you’ve always preferred silent comfort over being bombarded with questions. Jason knows that by now, and that’s what he gives you—a comforting silence, his actions showing you that he’s there.

You and Jason stand there for about five minutes. The tears start to dry, and your breathing returns to normal. You feel his rough thumb wipe your eyes.

“I’m not going to rush you to tell me what’s wrong, Y/N. I just want to know if I’m making it worse by being here right now,” Jason says.

“Don’t even think about leaving, Todd,” you reply, trying to lighten the mood by using his last name. Key word: try, but Jason knows you too well. He catches the hint of sadness in your voice.

A yawn escapes your mouth, the exhaustion of studying, overthinking, and crying draining you completely.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” Jason says, scooping you up so suddenly you don’t have time to argue.

As your shoulders slump and he carries you to your room, your eyes grow heavy. You feel his arms dip, replaced by the softness of your comforter.

Just as Jason starts to leave, your hand shoots up, grabbing his.

“Stay,” you murmur before you can process what you’re asking for.

There’s a pause, then the bed dips as Jason lies down beside you. You don’t know if you imagine it, but you could swear you hear him say, “Always.”

The rhythm of his heartbeat mixes with the rain outside—a sound that, earlier, annoyed you but now brings a peace you haven’t felt in a long time. As sleep claims you, the fleeting thought crosses your mind: maybe he already knows how you feel.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I honestly don’t understand the toxic relationship Netflix has with the duo, and maybe the $100M contract play a role, but are there other shows that will be released in the coming days? Were they delayed too? Or why are they being very considerate towards her and allow all that BS, helping with her PR of Humanitarian Meghy is being so good person?

See, as other anons have said, I think she would had enough views/hours in order to be 1-2 weeks on TOP 10, but to expect this show to be somehow one of the ‘most watched shows’, ‘having very amazing reviews’ or else, it’s just to make fool of themselves. Her show will be from those which will be talked for 2-3 days and then people will forget it, that BS isn’t Stranger things, Squid Game, etc.

Releasing it on Wednesday or releasing it on March won’t have any change 🤷🏻‍♀️, her target is the LA community, but they aren’t. Like it or not, her main viewers (for hate or for love) are from UK , so delaying it or not, won’t help with more views.

But well, they have already done it and that sounds like they will continue pulling their stunts, I hope that at least the next time they don’t call TMZ and goes ANONYMOUSLY!

—————

Also, I saw some comments saying that maybe she will use Invictus Games (it will be on the beginning of February I think) to promote her show or else, but I don’t think she will go with H this time. They will play the: Poor H was so worried to let his wife and children alone but MM told him he had a duty with the competitors and she decided to stay in LA to continue helping people. Who knows, I doubt she will go.

Also, apparently Harold needs to go to UK in 1-2 weeks for his lawsuit to provide evidence, I don’t know if he NEEDS to go or his lawyers can do all the work. But if he goes, lol, it would be so stupid to go and cry for himself when there are literally people losing their houses

It's thought that this show is the last one one their contract.

This is all you need to know about the Sussexes/Netflix relationship:

The Obamas got a major deal with Netflix after leaving the White House.

Meghan planned her post-Megxit career on the Obamas so because they got a major deal with Netflix, she wanted a major deal with Netflix.

At the time, the Sussexes were an unproven entity and weren't as widely reviled or disliked, so Netflix gambled and gave them a contract; however, the price of the Sussexes' deal was nowhere close to the kind of money the Obamas got (and that's been confirmed by industry gossip leaking out over the years; they did not get $100 million).

The Sussexes struggled with developing content for the deal. Meghan wanted their platform to be inspirational activism and Harry just wanted to make documentaries about his passion (which is a continuation of his work with the BRF).

They sold a documentary to Apple TV (despite having a deal with Netflix).

They sold an interview to CBS/Oprah (despite having a deal with Netflix).

Meghan had an idea of an animated children's program that focused on feminism and childhood education that was essentially American Girl meets Wishbone whose main character is modeled on a young Meghan Markle. Netflix sank a ton of money in developing and producing the show for Meghan, but Meghan kept changing her mind and rewriting everything. Eventually Netflix cancelled the show.

The Sussexes spent another year putting together their docuseries which was widely panned.

Then they bought an already-in-the-can documentary about inspiring leaders and slapped their name all over it. It too was widely panned.

Netflix released the Harry & Meghan docuseries but almost immediately, Meghan started bashing it with criticism about the director and how certain editing choices weren't choices she made.

Netflix bought Meghan Meet Me At The Lake to make. Absolutely nothing happened with it. It's in pre-development purgatory still.

Meghan called the paps on her hanging out with the Netflix CEO and his wife a few times. They went to a Beyonce concert.

Someone at Spotify publicly called the Sussexes grifters.

Meghan ditched the Netflix CEO and started hanging out with the Paramount CEO and his wife.

but are there other shows that will be released in the coming days?

Yes

Were they delayed too?

No

Or why are they being very considerate towards her and allow all that BS, helping with her PR of Humanitarian Meghy is being so good person?

Rumor has it that Meghan is stirring up a DEI fuss about the marketing of her show. If that's true, then possibly Netflix felt it better to satisfy her demands so she goes away quietly in October when the contract officially ends. That rumor comes on the heels of other rumors that Meghan was upset of old cut footage being included in the trailer, which follows an initial set of rumors that she wanted reshoots.

I really do not think this show was delayed out of the kindness of Netflix's heart because of the suffering from the wildfires. It may be part of the reason, but Meghan is not that powerful a person to be able to make that kind of a demand on her own. There has to be something else at play here too.

But look on the bright side: with the show's release now delayed to March, that leaves only six months before their contract expires in October. Six months is not enough time in Archeworld to develop, film, produce, edit, and release a Season 2. This really is Meghan's last hurrah with Netflix because so far it's pretty clear from Netflix that they're not interested in renewing the Sussexes' contract.

[galaxymagitech]

Hi hello!! For the fanfic snippet thing, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this bit of Olive Branch! Especially what's running through Bruce's head at the moment.

---

“I’m not scared of you,” Jason says. It’s very much a lie, and he shouldn’t have said it. After all, Bruce already knew he was angry, but now Jason brought in the idea of fear. And he knows Bruce caught the lie.

Bruce watches him, the bottom of his mouth drawn in like he has something right on the tip of his tongue.

“Spit it out.”

“Your…your scar.”

Jason laughs nervously. “I have a lot of those.”

“On your neck, Jason. The one on your neck.” Immediately, Jason’s hand clamps down on the side of his throat, as if trying to staunch the bleeding. “Was that me?”

Jason doesn’t trust himself to answer.

“It was an accident,” Bruce lies, because that has to be a lie, right? “You know it was an accident, right? I was compromised. I got distracted. It was an accident.”

Jason knows that it wasn’t. Bruce’s aim couldn’t have been that far off. He ran the angles in his mind a thousand times, even hacked into the security cams. Watched it over and over and over and over and over again until it was burned into his memory. The Joker moved to the left, throwing Jason slightly to the right. The Batarang flew past his head on the right, too far from any target for Bruce to have been going for a direct shot. And the rebound…the rebound hit Jason across his neck, tearing a gash from the back left to the front left. If Jason hadn’t been thrown sideways, it would have hit him in the back of his neck and with the force of the Batarang— “Okay,” Jason lies right back, “I believe you.”

“You don’t,” Bruce says, voice hollow. “Jason, I was aiming for the gun. It was an accident. I swear—”

“I believe you,” Jason repeats. It’s all he can really do. Batman doesn’t miss. Batman certainly doesn’t miss as wildly as Bruce is claiming he did. Bruce doesn’t care enough to have been that badly out of it. “Can we please focus?” He rasps out the words, mouth suddenly dry. He takes a sip of the coffee, hiding his face behind the mug, because apparently it’s safe. Probably safe. Maybe Jason gave Bruce the idea and he slipped something into it while Jason was out of it. He forces himself to take a sip of the coffee anyway. He’s fucking pathetic. If Bruce wanted to capture him right now, he could do it easily.

Thank you! I loved writing this fic so I’m super excited to talk about it!

So this is near the end of Olive Branch, where Jason post-Batarang agrees to meet with Bruce for what he thinks is basically a negotiated surrender. Bruce, on the other hand, thinks he’s meeting in a cafe with his son to try to recover their relationship. And he has no idea how much he freaked Jason out with the batarang incident.

Shortly prior to this, Jason had a panic attack because he thought Bruce put something in his drink. Depending on your version of canon, Bruce has trauma related to this, so that’s already like a “my son thinks I’m a monster” moment. Add onto that the fact that Jason just revealed that he only thinks this is a negotiation…

Well, Bruce is crushed. He genuinely thought that after their confrontation, Jason had calmed down and was ready to just have a conversation. Bruce misses him so much—he was desperate to talk to Jason, to the point where he tried not to even talk about Jason’s killing and already made a huge concession shortly before the panic attack.

At this point, Bruce has realized Jason hates him and is only here for business. And he doesn’t understand, but…he knows he can put his foot in his mouth and doesn’t want to spook Jason off, so he offers to talk through an intermediary. If he ruins this now, he could lose his chance to ever talk to Jason again. But if he backs away, then maybe he can have Jason home again, sometime in the future.

“I’m not scared of you,” Jason says. It’s very much a lie, and he shouldn’t have said it. After all, Bruce already knew he was angry, but now Jason brought in the idea of fear. And he knows Bruce caught the lie.

Jason’s reasoning, while incredibly unreliable throughout this fic, is actually spot on here. Bruce had been trying to figure out what was going on in Jason’s head—if he was still so angry, why’s he willing to negotiate? But if he’s not angry, then why is he assuming such terrible things of Bruce?

And then Jason lies about not being scared of Bruce and the question becomes: Why would he think Bruce would hurt him?

(I imagine that Bruce has watched footage of the confrontation over and over again. He knows he hit Jason with the batarang, but due to the angles, he doesn’t know exactly where he hit, how bad it was, etc. All he knows is that he threw it and then Jason fell to the ground, bleeding. He’s been telling himself that it must’ve just grazed Jason, that he can’t have hurt him thatbadly because he seems fine, right?)

Bruce watches him, the bottom of his mouth drawn in like he has something right on the tip of his tongue. “Spit it out.” “Your…your scar.” Jason laughs nervously. “I have a lot of those.” “On your neck, Jason. The one on your neck.” Immediately, Jason’s hand clamps down on the side of his throat, as if trying to staunch the bleeding. “Was that me?”

Bruce had been wondering this since he spotted the scar, but only now does he allow himself to actually consider the possibility. He really doesn’t want to ask it. If you’re working with a live bomb that could go off at any moment, you don’t want to poke it. And he doesn't want to think about what it would mean if the answer is "yes," because a cut there deep enough to scar that badly could easily have been lethal. But he also has to know how badly he hurt his son.

(The second Jason deflects, Bruce knows.)

Jason doesn’t trust himself to answer. “It was an accident,” Bruce lies, because that has to be a lie, right? “You know it was an accident, right? I was compromised. I got distracted. It was an accident.”

Bruce isn’t actually lying here. (In my intent—obviously others can interpret the fic how they want.) But what he’s saying is extremely unbelievable because:

Jason knows that it wasn’t. Bruce’s aim couldn’t have been that far off. He ran the angles in his mind a thousand times, even hacked into the security cams. Watched it over and over and over and over and over again until it was burned into his memory. The Joker moved to the left, throwing Jason slightly to the right. The Batarang flew past his head on the right, too far from any target for Bruce to have been going for a direct shot. And the rebound…the rebound hit Jason across his neck, tearing a gash from the back left to the front left. If Jason hadn’t been thrown sideways, it would have hit him in the back of his neck and with the force of the Batarang— “Okay,” Jason lies right back, “I believe you.”

I actually did look at the angles a while ago while trying to determine the feasibility that this was an accident. It looks like Jason does get thrown to the right, and the batarang still misses him on the first pass, only hitting him on the rebound. Meanwhile, Jason is holding the gun in his right hand. There’s no way Bruce was aiming for the gun or the Joker—not unless he was so emotionally compromised that his aim was really, really bad.

So, there are three interpretations here:

Bruce was aiming to rebound the Batarang into Jason’s neck. He was either slightly off (and it hit because the Joker, predictably, threw himself sideways) or he was going for a potentially lethal shot to the back of the neck. Jason and the Joker both believe this one.

Bruce was so distracted that he really messed up the angle. He was either going for the gun or the Joker, and missed horribly. This is what actually happened in this fic.

Bruce was aiming for a non-lethal shot to the backof Jason’s neck. To my understanding, this region is better protected by bones than the rest of the neck, so with comic book science, maybe Jason would have been temporarily unable to lift his head, but would have survived and recovered. Still, it’s incredibly risky. I think there’s a decent chance that comics!Bruce did this.

(There’s a possibility that, despite how it appears, Jason wasn’t actually thrown to the side. In this case, Bruce missing an attempt to hit the rebound into the gun and hitting Jason’s neck instead is a bit more likely.)

(I am not an expert in thrown weapons, so take this analysis with a pillar of salt, of course.)

“You don’t,” Bruce says, voice hollow. “Jason, I was aiming for the gun. It was an accident. I swear—”

Bruce is truly desperate here. Jason genuinely believes that Bruce took a kill-shot at him.

Telling Jason isn’t an accident isn’t going to help. It 100% sounds like someone trying to make last-minute lying justifications. Like “I didn’t mean to hit you!” etc.

And part of that is because I believe Bruce doesn’t actually know what happened. He had lost every ounce of his control (and we know Bruce has serious control issues) over the situation. So, he threw, and his mind was either blank or his memory of his reasoning is just completely gone. But the details of that moment are just consumed by panic. He knows that he wasn’t aiming for Jason’s neck—knows he would never do that—but he also doesn’t exactly know what he was aiming for instead. And that makes his justifications sound much weaker. (It's also why he missed so badly—he absolutely wasn't thinking straight in that moment.)

“I believe you,” Jason repeats. It’s all he can really do. Batman doesn’t miss. Batman certainly doesn’t miss as wildly as Bruce is claiming he did. Bruce doesn’t care enough to have been that badly out of it. “Can we please focus?” He rasps out the words, mouth suddenly dry. He takes a sip of the coffee, hiding his face behind the mug, because apparently it’s safe. Probably safe. Maybe Jason gave Bruce the idea and he slipped something into it while Jason was out of it. He forces himself to take a sip of the coffee anyway. He’s fucking pathetic. If Bruce wanted to capture him right now, he could do it easily.

With Bruce’s control issues, he really struggles to just move on. He needs Jason to know that he didn’t mean to. It’s essential. It matters more than anything else. Jason holds an incorrect belief about Bruce’s love for him, and Bruce needs to correct it.

Meanwhile, Jason is completely panicking. He’s in “placate and diffuse” mode—the fawn in the fight-flight-freeze-fawn reflex. And he completely discounts the possibility of the truth, because he doesn’t think Bruce cares about him enough to be so emotionally compromised that he missed that badly. The solution here, obviously, is that Bruce does care enough that he was that emotionally compromised.

Immediately after this snippet, Jason’s fear shows itself again, which jerks Bruce out of his (kind of self-centered) need to clarify. He just totally gives up on that part of the conversation and sort of steps back emotionally for the rest.

[icharchivist]

I think one thing i really hate about Veilguard is that in this attempt to make Solas less sympathetic they do simplify his motivations and end up doing things specifically for people to dislike him (re: the whole Varric storyline),

but they also just make everyone around him paragons of virtues so it becomes clearer, so it does end up being too black and white.

Like Solas has flaws! he's ruthless! he would kill his friends if they got in the way of his goals! A lot of people died because of the calls he made! he's pragmatic! he copes by not seeing people as "real"! He manipulates other people! those sucks, right?

But in DAI he's balanced with Bull who also says that he has to deshumanize the people in front of him to just be okay with killing them. or Vivienne who casually mentions that killing the servants is a normal way to play The Game. Or Dorian who argues in favor of slavery in the main game and then approves of Fen'Harel's methods in Trespasser after he starts to realize radical action is necessary. Or Blackwall who made a terrible call too as a general once and still is paying the consequences of it. Or Leliana who is also someone who was made into a weapon to support someone she loved "her call, but my conscience to bear the consequences". Also just Leliana or Vivienne or Josephine being quite manipulative themselves.

Or even Felassan in The Masked Empire letting Imshael kill innocent elves, being ready to kill Briala once she starts to see through his plan.

Or Solas' arrogance over everything he knows about the past that clashes with Morrigan's own arrogance about it when they talk in the Temple of Mythal.

Veilguard meanwhile both have the most inoffensive companions of the whole franchise (none of them deal with guilt for something they actually did, at worse they have misplaced guilt (Bellara), else don't worry even the assassin knows he only ever kills bad people. (compared to Zevran who knows he had been sent to kill people who perhaps didn't deserve it).), and when it can bring back a character from before, it's by stripping them of anything that would make them sympathize with Solas.

Re: Felassan losing his edge completely just to be shocked about Solas' actions, or Morrigan joking about how she humansplained him elven history and "resolving" her conflict with Mythal offscreen to better lecture Solas' about his own later. (which i'm so angry at, Morrigan's "arc" this game made me so angry, my god.)

So instead of Solas being flawed, the way Any Dragon Age Character is flawed, he's demonized to the extreme while also refusing to have any characters match his freak.

And it's not even mentioning how Rook fails at also having any chances of relating to Solas, in a way the Inquisitor could (if only because as a leader sometimes you make calls that will get people killed. Re, all the people who died in Adamant or in the Grey Wardens' War Table missions, and it's not even mentioning the one War Table mission about whether to sacrifice innocents to find Red Templars or give up on a promising lead.)

And it's why lots of Solas' fans will end up being much more defensive about him because the gap created in Veilguard is just... deeply out of synch with the way the franchise had dealed with controversial characters yet.

That makes Veilguard a lot more frustrating than it even is to start with.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

"If you're hinting at something, please just say it"

I think that Jimmy makes other people feel small so that he can feel better about himself, and that he's done this so consistently across the span of your friendship that it's worn down your confidence enough to make you second guess yourself in any situation where Jimmy is present. This gives him an easy override if he wants to force his way on an issue.

He's also willing to turn things you say in confidence against you in front of your crew. You had one hell of a birthday party, Curly. I'm sorry that happened to you.

You having been friends and Jimmy being deliberately cruel sometimes aren't mutually exclusive. Maybe that's part of why you froze so bad.

For fuck’s sake. I’ll say this again, okay? He’s— he’s not— hold on, let me think.

I didn’t feel that way. If anything it was the opposite. I made him feel small. That’s why he, uh, he has to try and act— His whole life people have made him feel small. I’m no exception. I just… didn’t do it on purpose, I guess. That’s how he tolerated it from me. It pissed him off that I acted better than him. I never meant to. If I second-guessed myself around him, that was why. Not because I was scared of him. That would be insane. I just didn’t want to upset him, yeah? He’s not cruel, just— He gets defensive.

You’re reading too much into the party. Yes, it upset me that he brought up what I told him in the cockpit, all right? But can I blame him? I mean, from his perspective, I had this perfect fucking secure job while he was stuck as my second-in-command— and had to fight for that job, too. And I didn’t want it. I complained to him about it, knowing how much the job meant to him. Then we got fired. Back on Earth, he loses everything and I get what I want. Spit in his face. I never would have told him if I’d known. He— I yelled back, didn’t I? Fucking unprofessional of me, especially considering the news, but let’s not act like it was all him. I made it worse with my response. You don’t have to be sorry it happened to me. I made my own damn bed.

I don’t know what it was that pushed Jimmy to hurt Anya, kill himself, and hate me. Okay? I don’t know what line he crossed and I don’t know why I couldn’t catch him in time. But he wasn’t always— I have to believe he wasn’t always— He was trying to get better.

You’re making this sound worse than it is. Don’t try to excuse how I froze up. There’s no reason why I should’ve been afraid. There’s no excuse.

[regretsofaghost]

you’ll always be my closest friend, i lost myself but i struggle too, so please tell me, was I good to you?

Link to Chapter 1 on AO3- here

Link to Chapter 2 on tumblr- here

Word Count- 700 words.

A new challenge, 31 chapters again and i must finish by my birthday (March 16th). No minimum or maximum word count this time, and I am allowed to edit.

Charles did not like how anger sat in his belly, how the flames were stoked every time he looked over at Edwin’s hand, there were scars leftover from the Case of the Caging Rings. It was not a pleasant feeling, it was not nice, not helpful, that anger. It just made him feel awful, because Edwin was doing better, at least a little bit.

Edwin had begun to make the shrine for Niko, collecting small trinkets that she would have liked, like sea glass and dandelions. They could not find the bear token Tragic Mick had given her, so they had found a small stuffed bear to take its place instead.

Charles sometimes caught Edwin just, staring, at the picture on the shrine, at Niko’s smiling face, her long dark hair, her happiness. The photo had been taken before they had met her, Crystal had been unable to find a more recent picture.

Edwin had begun to open up a bit more to Charles than he had before, had begun to request his presence. When the night was quiet, sometimes Edwin’s voice would float over to Charles, he would never look at him, would never catch his eye, but would divulge, that he was unsure why he felt lonely, just that he did.

That he felt like he was losing what he had gained, after Hell. That he did not want to be selfish, that he would ask too much of Charles.

Edwin had made progress.

It still didn’t feel like enough.

Charles saw the way Edwin’s eyes would linger on the mirror, how sometimes he would find excuses to leave for periods of time, always carefully put together when he came back, almost too perfect.

Charles desperately wanted to believe Edwin, wanted to think everything was okay now.

Was Charles truly not enough anymore?

Edwin hadn’t tried to kiss him since-

Charles had kissed him first, that had to mean something, to Edwin, right?

Edwin had not come back drunk since, had not come to him seeking comfort and touch.

“No. More.”

Charles had been hurt when he said it, stressed, worried.

He hadn’t thought about it, he just knew he didn’t want Edwin drinking the potion anymore.

He should know better than most that hiding was sometimes easier than stopping.

Charles did not like to be angry at his oldest, dearest, best friend.

Anger was so much easier to feel though, so much easier to hide, than anything else.

Anger could be hidden behind a smile, anger could be shoved down behind his throat, safely tucked away beside his spine, where it would hurt only himself.

Charles hated to be angry at Edwin.

Anger was his birthright, given to him by his father.

But then he would remember Edwin, hand in mouth, stumbling through the mirror after him, covered in hickies. He would remember Edwin’s eyes when confronted, how they were glazed over.

He would remember the terror most of all. How Edwin looked so unlike himself.

Charles could only hope that Edwin had not continued to drink the potion, that he was simply going for walks, that he was simply needing space sometimes.

Edwin’s collar had been lopsided one day, and Charles hated the anger that burned in his throat, that spluttered up from his belly, anger that was barely contained, when he saw the bite marks along Edwin’s throat.

Anger was not helpful, when he needed to help Edwin.

Anger only made things worse, especially when Edwin refused to see how things might be getting out of hand.

Edwin would not know the small tells Charles was slowly learning, that indicated that he was lying, that he was hiding.

Charles often asked, for Edwin to spend time with him, and all those smiles, they couldn’t all be faked.

Edwin was blunt, he had had no problems over the past thirty years in telling Charles when he was displeased.

It seemed the only time Edwin wouldn’t tell Charles everything was when it involved Edwin, and Edwin’s feelings.

Charles wanted to help, desperately.

The hickies faded, but Edwin would not dress down in their office anymore.

But how does one help someone who insists there isn’t a problem?

[shoedropped]

"you  can  invest  your  life  into  being  beautiful,  but  at  the  end  of  the  day  it  won't  matter  because  true  beauty  comes  from  the  heart."  dru's  heart...  well.  he  never  once  thought  his  step-brothers  weren't  beautiful  in  their  own  way,  he  never  thought  they  were  lacking  or  that  they  needed  to  be  different.  all  he'd  ever  wanted  was  for  them  to  like  him.  he  wanted  to  have  a  family.  "you  truly  don't  know,  do  you?"  shaking  his  head  a  little,  he  couldn't  help  a  small,  bitter  laugh.  "it  wasn't  just  one  night.  it  was  months.  kit  and  i  met  in  secret  for  months.  but  you  all  were  too  busy  with  yourselves  to  notice  i  was  gone  time  and  time  again."  had  they  really....  not  known?  maybe  he'd  done  better  at  sneaking  out  than  he  thought.  then  again  he  did  have  the  animals  on  his  side;  the  mice,  bruno  &  the  birds.  "you...  yes,  you're  right.  i  had  a  nice  mother  who  died  right  in  front  of  me  when  i  was  six.  i  had  a  nice  father  who  died  shortly  after  he  brought  you  into  our  home.  i  lost  everything  that  day."  instead  of  catching  him,  they...  used  him,  stole  from  him,  dropped  him  &  left  him  with  his  pain.  "i  was  alone  in  this  world  and  all  i  ever  wanted  you  denied  me."  he  never  even  thought  about  a  husband,  or  a  rich  one  at  that.  he  didn't  care.  his  life,  ironically  ..  had  been  about  survival.  that  was  all.  he  lost  himself  in  that  fight  somewhere  along  the  years,  but  no  more.  "how  could  you  be  so  blind?  all  i  ever  wanted  was  for  you  to  see  me.  you  were  my  family.  the  only  family  i  had  left,  but  you  were  too  busy  hating  me  to  notice."  he  never  understood  why.  "love  is  so  much  more  than  what  someone  can  give  you.  it..  make  you  whole.  it  keeps  your  warm  on  cold  winter  nights,  it's  ..  waking  up  seeing  another  person's  face  and  you  know  that  everything's  going  to  be  just  fine.  love  isn't  a  transaction.  it's  trusting  someone  with  your  heart."  he  couldn't  imagine  life  without  love,  not  anymore.  not  since  he  met  kit.  "oh  please,  you  made  the  choice  to  hate  me.  what  anybody  else  did  doesn't  matter.  this  is  about  you  and  me."  ...pointing  fingers  at  the  greater  evil,  really?  “can  you  blame  me?  i'm  sure  you  do.  i  just  wanted  to  live  my  life  the  way  i  want  to,  do  the  things  i  enjoy  -  not  spend  my  days  cleaning  after  everybody  else's  messes,  i  wanted  breakfast  in  bed  on  sundays  instead  of  getting  degraded  by  those  closest  to  me.  i  just  wanted  to  find  the  ella  inside  me  again  my  mother  told  me  never  to  lose.”

"i'm  flattered  that  you  think  all  of  this  beauty  is  just  naturally  god  given,  but  a  lot  goes  into  looking  this  good.  we  can't  all  have  nice  blond  hair  and  pretty  cheek  bones."  although  his  eyes  are  gorgeous.  dru  doesn't  think  he's  ugly,  not  in  the  slightest,  just  a  different  form  of  beautiful.  almost  haunting.  “i  loved  bossing  you  around.  is  that  what  you  want  to  hear?”  he  admits,  almost  a  little  confused.  if  a  confession  is  what  he  wants,  then  the  younger  man  will  give  it  to  him.  he's  in  desperate  need  of  pr  training  anyway.  “i've  spent  my  whole  life  working  to  get  a  position  like  yours,  busting  my  ass.  you  got  it  all  because  of  one  night.  it's  not  fair.  you  always  just  got  things  handed  to  you.  a  nice  father,  a  rich  husband,  even  the  freaking  mice  love  you.  everyone  loves  you.”  the  jealous  is  seething  out  as  he  tries  his  best  to  control  himself.  he  knows  bellamy  didn't  ask  for  any  of  that.  “then  go  on.  lecture  me  to  death.  what  else  is  there?”  dru  dramatically  rolls  his  eyes  as  he  picks  up  one  of  the  wigs.  he  starts  to  fluff  it  up  a  bit,  needing  something  to  do  so  that  he  doesn't  stare  at  the  other  man.  “so  you  don't  blame  them  for  the  tough  choices  they  had  to  make,  but  here  you  are  pointing  the  finger  at  me?  i  had  one  victim  and  they  had  hundreds.  it  seems  rather  hypocritical  if  you  as  me.”  he  guts  his  chin  out  now,  speaking  like  everything  he's  saying  is  a  matter  of  fact  and  not  just  speculation.  eyes  still  follow  ella's.  “oh  you  had  a  choice  and  you  reveled  in  it.  don't  think  you  did  that  for  my  benefit.  you  couldn't  wait  to  get  away  from  us,  to  be  free.”