#I just know he travels with them

[minttangerines]

alright, I have thots to bring you to hopefully inspire you some more about soft dom!Hao. I am empty on the creative juices at the moment, but I have faith that you can work with what I am about to give you: inspired by this video.

"What are those?" You squint at the screen, eyes immediately drawn the the vivid red ropes draped across the headboard behind your coworkers head.

The OC and Minghao proceed to have a ten minute long conversation about the red ropes behind him and their purpose. Before realization subtly flickers across his eyes, biting back an amused smile he dives right into reprimanding you.

"Yah! Why aren't you focused on me?"

You can't help it; between your brooding, the wine and the ridiculousness of this entire situation you burst into exhausted laughter. Phone dangling upside down in your lap, giving Minghao a shakily inverted view of the nearly empty wine bottle, and your cat. The actual cat…not the one he was anticipating seeing.

You're tricking me into poorly writing this. This will be remembered, Kie.

The sound of your head slamming against your dining table results in him giving you a bit of mercy.

“You’re the one that wants something from me. And you know what I want from you. Why didn’t you ask us before we left for the passcode?” “Because Mingyu the Fool is supposed to be working on this, not me.” You do your best to hold back your frustration but the tossing of your phone onto the table confirmed that once again, you won’t indulge him.

Needing a moment to collect yourself, you slide your fingers into your roots before squeezing and counting to ten.

“If you wanted someone to pull you hair, you could have waited until I got back. It is good to know you can keep all of your faculties while undergoing pain though.”

The cheeky bastard is smirking. You hear it before you see it.

“Are you going to give me the passcode or not?” Your patience is in the lead for running out before the wine. Minghao tsks into the camera as he stands to remove his shirt. He continues to film himself as he goes into the bathroom to run the water for his shower.

“Are you going to beg me or not?” Metal delicately reverberating in the background makes an appearance. For a 5-star hotel, you expected better plumbing. Giving him the attention he is becoming desperate to receive, you take notice to the motion his other hand is making. The one undoing his belt. Fucking hell. New Text Message from Hoshi 🐯

Sorry, fell asleep after the meeting 🥱 Still need the passcode?

You reply with the affirmative.

"Tick tock..." is airily taunted through your phone speakers.

You contemplate who to ask about the red marks on Hoshi's wrist, him or the demon with the red rope tied to his bed.

@minisugakoobies

[hailsatanacab]

Family Dinners - dpxdc

"Holy shit, you're Bruce Wayne!" Danny gaped, jabbing a finger at the man sitting at the head of the table.

The bustling dining room goes silent as everyone turns to look at him.

"Danny, who did you think was going to be here?" Tim asks, disbelief plain in his voice and Danny feels his face flush red.

"Sorry, I, uh, I guess I just never put it together. Tim Drake-Wayne. Wayne Manor. It, uh, makes sense now." He laughs sheepishly and scrubs at his neck before slumping back down into his chair.

"Well," Tim says with an indulgent sigh, "at least I know you're not just friends with me for my connections."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry, I just never thought about it, I guess."

Danny sinks lower as everyone around him laughs. Come to dinner, he said, the food is the best, he said, ignore the family, he said. Danny really wishes he'd listened to Tim and just ignored them—almost as much as he's regretting accepting the offer in the first place—but... he's having dinner with Batman.

Ancients, that's so weird!

The last time he saw Batman was in the future and, suffice it to say, it was not going well. There hadn't really been time for family dinners there.

Wait. Family dinners?

He peers around the table, openly gawking at everyone as it all clicks into place.

"Everything alright, Danny? Now realising who everyone else is?" Tim asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Uh... something like that..." Danny mumbles as everyone laughs again.

From further down the table, the smallest Wayne scoffs and clicks his tongue.

"I thought you said he was smart, Drake?"

"So, you all do it, too, then?" he asks, ignoring the jibe. Danny's only a little bit jealous as he thinks of how much easier they must have it, how much easier it'd be if his family had been on his side, too. "You all work together?"

"Nah," Dick says from across the table with a brilliant grin. "Tim's the only one that works with Bruce, we all have different jobs. I'm a police officer in Bludhaven."

"Disgusting." Danny blurts out without thinking—because seriously, what kind of self-respecting vigilante would also be a police officer?—before clapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry."

The whole table laughs again, the loudest being the blonde girl a few spaces down from Dick. Look, Danny wasn't really paying attention to names when they were all paraded in front of him. Dick only gets remembered because his name is a joke.

Come on, Danny, recover!

"That's, uh, not what I meant, though."

"Oh?" Dick asks, cocking his head slightly to the side. Is it Danny's imagination or does his smile tense slightly?

"Yeah, I mean like, you know, in costume. It must make it so much easier to have everyone together like this."

"Costume? What do you mean?"

Yeah, Danny's not imagining it, everyone tenses up at that. It's really only now that he's realising that this probably isn't how he should bring up that he knows about their... night time activities. In fact, he probably shouldn't be bringing it up at all.

"Uuhhh..." Danny looks wildly around the table as he continues making his stupid noise. Think, think, think! There must be a way out of this!

"Danny?" Tim asks, looking concerned.

"Oh, Ancients, this isn't how I wanted it to go at all," he mutters, slipping even further into his chair. He's almost on the floor now and he so, so wishes it could just swallow him up.

His real first meeting with Batman was meant to be cool! He had planned to be Phantom, maybe save them from a tight spot, prove his worth as a mysterious and powerful ally as thanks for the help Batman gave him in the future.

"Danny, what are you talking about?" Tim starts tugging on his sleeve in an attempt to pull him back up from his pit of despair.

Eventually, Danny relents and sits up straighter, hiding his face in his hands and whining all the while.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't expect him to be here and it threw me off so now I look stupid and it's so embarrassing!" he wails, flailing his arms wide. "Why wouldn't you warn me that Batman was your adopted dad, Tim? Couldn't you have let me know?"

"I'm sorry, what? Danny are you alright? There's no way Bruce can be Batman, look at him!"

"Yeah," the blonde girl laughs from the bottom of the table, "look at him! That's a wet noodle of a man! Batman can actually do things, B is incapable of pretty much everything."

"Thank you, Stephanie," Bruce sighs, massaging his forehead.

It's... Those are the first words Danny's heard Batman say since everything went down and it's enough to knock him out of his embarrassment.

It's really good to hear his voice again. Especially now, when it's strong and healthy and full of personality—even if that personality is little more than a tired father right now—far better than how it had been, at the end.

Danny sits up, back straight, and grins. He's got this. He remembers it perfectly. Some people count sheep to fall asleep, Danny repeats his mantra to be certain that he'll never forget it.

"Gamma alpha upsilon tau iota mu epsilon, 42, 63, 28, 1 colon 65 dash 9."

Once again, the whole table falls into silence.

"Holy shit..." breathes the other D name (Duke? Danny's pretty sure he's Signal) from opposite Stephanie. "Isn't that...?"

"The time travelling code." The littlest Wayne says stiffly. "We have met in the future?"

"That's not just the time travelling code, Dami." Dick says, looking between Danny and Bruce. "That's the family time travelling code."

Danny's grin freezes in place.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"1 colon 65 dash 9." Dick explains, still flicking between him and Bruce. "It means you've been adopted into the family and we should all treat you as such, no questions asked."

"Tell you what, I'm about to ask a question." Danny says, dumbstruck. "You just told me it was a code to identify time travellers, not anything about being adopted! What the hell, B?"

Bruce looks about as shellshocked as Danny feels.

"We must have been close," he says finally, after opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water a few times.

"No! Not that close!" Danny reels back, taking a deep breath ready to refute it all, but... "Well, I mean, you found me when I first got stuck, and you helped me get better despite being... And then we fought together against the, uh, bad guy, before he, um, he... before you couldn't."

An uncomfortable beat passes while they all pick up on what Danny tried so hard not to say.

"So, you're not from the future, then, you travelled there and came back?" Tim asks, breaking the tension and leaning forward with a glint in his eye.

"Yeah, it was a whole end of the world thing, but don't worry about it," Danny says with a hand wave, "It's all kosher now, won't ever happen."

"What did happen?"

"Seriously, don't worry about it, we cool."

"How long in the future was it?"

"About ten years? You were pretty spry for an old man, B," Danny laughs, wishing they'd get off the topic of what happened and get back to the adoption bit.

Everyone shares degrees of a cautious smile as they relax out of the shock, and Dick—whose grin is the biggest—says, "No wonder you got the family code, you're already riffing on him like one of us. How long were you there for?"

"A week, before I managed to get back to my present and stop him then."

"A week? Jeez, B, that has to set some kind of record, seriously."

"Oh!" Danny says, sitting bolt upright and blinking in surprise before pointing at Dick and bouncing in his seat. "You're Nightwing!"

"What?"

"That's exactly what Nightwing said when Batman told me the code! Makes so much more sense now."

Dick laughs and claps his hands, delighted.

"You were not formally adopted?" The grumpy small one—Dami?—asks, his face pinched.

"I didn't even know I was informally adopted."

"And your parents? Are they alive or dead?"

"Damian, stop—"

"They were dead in the future, but they're alive now." Danny says, looking down. He fiddles with the tablecloth, twisting the fabric around his fingers as he fights down the pang of sadness that he always feels when he thinks of them now. He forces a bright smile on his face and hopes it doesn’t look too strained. "I just, uh, can't talk to them much, anymore."

"Damian," Dick warns, "1 colon 65 dash 9. Treat them as family, no questions asked."

"This is Damian treating him as family, the little turd has no manners." Tim scoffs, rolling his eyes, but he gently bumps shoulders with Danny to knock him out of his funk. Danny can't help but send him a watery smile.

"I have the most exemplary manners, Drake, unlike some people." Damian spits, crossing his arms with a pout. "I was merely ascertaining his status to see how he could possibly fit into the family."

"I know this is all a bit sudden, Danny," Bruce smiles, ignoring Damian and reaching out to lay a warm hand on his arm, "for all of us. But if I felt strongly enough to give you that code after spending a week with you in the future, then you are more than welcome in this family, if you so choose it. I think I can speak for all of us when I say we'd like to get to know you a bit more."

"I know a threat when I hear it, Bruce." Danny snorts. "But, yeah, I get it. I'm sorry this is all so weird, it really wasn't how I wanted to find you again, but... I'm glad I did."

"So are we, Danny." Dick says, with a warm smile. "And formally or not, 1 colon 65 dash 9 means you're family. Welcome to the fun house! No take backs or refunds, sorry. You're stuck with us."

[ghostbsuter]

There was a teen in the cave.

A teen no one knows and looks like he could be a wayne, stands in the cave.

"Actually, I'm a wayne." He says with a shrug.

Bruce, Batman, carefully thinks of the implication.

"Not yet," The teen, Danny, doesn't say anything. Simple smiles. "You're not a wayne, yet. You will be. But not yet."

Then Bruce sighs, dropping the batman mask in order to take in the teen.

"Does future me know of the time travel?"

Dannys smile grows into a grin, deciding to take pity on the man. "You, grandbat, have..." He makes a vague gesture. "Theories, which none of your children ever confirmed."

The bat's mind short-circuits at the choice of words

Dick is sputtering incomprehensibly, there are Baffled expression all around.

Because.

Because that child isn't Bruce's, but one of theirs.

"Who is it?" Jason demands, hand clenching his gun uselessly.

Danny continues to smile, a hint of mischief now peeking out.

The cave is filled with theories, some yell, some sob, yet all eyes leave danny.

All but one pair.

She had known the moment his body language switched just enough for her to read.

She had known the moment he disappeared before the clan.

Had known when his hand found hers, shoulders bumping.

Her heart clenches, throat dry and memories of her childhood flooding to mind.

So she asks, voice soft and hesitant.

"Am I a good mother?"

And danny looks up at cass, adoration and pride laid out plain for her to see and accept.

"You're the best."

And so they both watch the clan together, silent and comfortable.

(Cass doesn't question when she finds him, how and why. All she knows is that she's more attentive when out on patrol, looking and waiting.)

(This is how Cassandra Cain-Wayne returns one night from patrol, a child, barely out of toddler stage and clinging to her form.)

(This is how the Batclan officially meets one Daniel James Cain-Wayne, freshly washed and clothed, a cookie in hand and hiding shyly behind Cass.)

(When they meet, all they say is "Welcome home, danny," and "Good to see you again.", Danny doesn't necessarily get it, but that's okay. Maybe his new mom will explain it one day when he's bigger.)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 177

Now Dan is no coward. He’s not. 

But this stupid child body does have an effect on his reactions to things and honestly it’s a horrible thing that’s too small and too weak for him to use all his abilities. He could barely manage a fireball if he concentrated, yet everything caught fire with a mere outburst! His control was utterly gone, and a tantrum resulted in having to wear a stupid child leash backpack. 

It wasn’t like he was really a child, and it wasn’t like he’d get lost or some stupid shit that Danny would insist. Ugh, this isn’t even fair, technically he was older than him yet was stuck in a smaller body that he kept tripping over! 

Urgh, he’s even insisting on rewarding ‘good behavior’ and shit- must have talked to Jazz or something- because… Oh. No he wants the constellation bear, give! His star bear now, no takes back and, urgh, stupid baby body! 

Well, on the other hand, it’s utterly hilarious how much Danny sputters whenever he calls him Mom, not to mention strangers’ utter befuddlement. He ignores how Danny seems to be trying his best to live up ro the title. 

But! As he was saying, he’s no coward! He’s also not an idiot though, and having no control over his powers isn’t exactly a good thing. It’s really not a good thing when there’s a murderous-looking hero that he thinks he might have maimed in the future- which they apparently remember- staring down at him. So, he has to call in the big guns to fix this. 

“Mom, there’s a creepy fruitloop staring at me!” “There’s WHAT?!” Hah. Take that hero he doesn’t remember the name of.

(Behold the Grumpiest of Babies)

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[chronologically-challenged]

I think that the party's communication issues can be summed up as "man, is it awkward to tell someone that you want to spend the rest of your life with them if you've only know them for a few months? Probably."

[s0fter-sin]

ghost fucking soap so hard and so good he passes out but he utterly panics about it

he thinks he must’ve ignored soap asking to stop; was it pain that made him pass out? how bad could it have been to make him pass out when he’s been shot and kept going? should he bring him to medical? he’ll never touch him again, he’ll never so much as look at him again; he’ll ask for a transfer- fuck that, a dishonourable discharge. there’s no coming back from this

he spirals, guilt chasing hatred chasing despair chasing fear, until soap finally wakes back up

soap's still floating, loose-limbed and buzzing; fucked so thoroughly out of his head that it takes him a while to notice ghost isn't in bed with him anymore. he frowns, lifting a heavy head off the pillow and freezes. ghost's on the other side of the room, curled up tight in the corner as far away from soap as he could get without leaving him alone

(he would've left, would've made sure soap never had to see his face again and be reminded of what he did to him, of the monster he’d let into his bed- but he couldn't just leave him unconscious; what if he didn't wake up, he had to make sure he was safe first even if he'll rightfully hate him forever when he does wake up)

soap's voice when he calls out to him makes him flinch, his head burying deeper in his knees. cold worry chases the bliss from his blood and soap pushes himself up but his shaking arms can't hold his weight

the sound of him collapsing back onto the bed makes ghost rear up, his panic growing and soap's heart breaks at his red rimmed eyes

it takes a long time for soap to coax him back to the bed, countless loops of, "sweetheart, please, come here, what happened? it's okay, everything’s going to be okay.”

(and how ghost’s self-hatred grows hearing soap comforting him; hearing the concern and love in his voice when he doesn’t deserve a drop of it)

it takes even longer for ghost to believe soap when he says that he passed out because he felt so good; that he never asked ghost to stop, never wanted him to stop. that he trusts him more than anything and knows he'd rather die than ever hurt him, especially like that

“you’re not a monster, love,” he promises, soft with conviction and it’s as much a surrender as a relief when he collapses into his lap and lets him hold him close

ghost believes johnny but he still can't bring himself to be intimate with him for a while; that fear still haunting him, but soap doesn't hold it against him, doesn't complain about ghost's perceived "step back" in their relationship

hell, ghost seems to hate it more than he does; he misses being with soap, misses the connection, the closeness they shared, the safety and quiet he found in his embrace, but he's always trusted soap more than he trusts himself

soap doesn't let him be consumed by his fear or worse, sabotage them and turn it into a punishment; doesn't let him even get through the suggestion of switching because he knows how much he hates it and he won’t let him twist something as good and pure as their physical love into something self-harming

instead, he brings them back to the basics, working through the steps to get ghost comfortable with intimacy again, to get him to trust himself again; spends happy months just grinding and exchanging handjobs like when their relationship first started

and it's a happy day for them both when soap finally falls apart on his cock once again, anxiety the farthest thing from ghost's mind when his arms are wrapped so tightly around him, kissing a smile against his lips

[phoenixcatch7]

It's always funny to me when in an lu fic the chain is offered bananas and don't accept them. Like, you're offering these high energy adventures free food?? Fruit they'll have never even heard of before??? A ridiculously expensive imported good at best?? AND it boosts your attack?

Not ONE of these idiots would ever turn down something new and interesting to eat at least once. They'd be all over those bananas and immediately get dubbed yiga and I'm honestly surprised no one has used it in a fic yet 🤭

[deoidesign]

A frustrating development with the growing lack of reading comprehension I've personally noticed is an emerging fervor of insisting things aren't canon unless they are explicitly stated beyond all reasonable doubt.

I can not emphasize enough how harmful a mindset this is to have. Yes, it's wonderful to have characters outright say "I'm trans," but to deny a character's identity for not saying that is dangerous.

Plenty of real people prefer not to use specific labels. Historically, people didn't have our modern terms or modes of expression. Many modern cultures don't use these terms, either, and plenty of people within those that do can't safely openly identify.

If the only representation you accept as canon is within modern (and let's be honest, wealthy white able-bodied American) standards, then you are denying yourself and others a huge amount of representation and seriously limiting the media around you.

[venuseology]

anybody stuck on the fact that Colin told Penelope that he traveled to seventeen cities but told his siblings that he couldn’t remember how many he went to / refused to talk about his travels ………….. sigh

Not only that but also the fact that he was probably so lonely the entire time. Just completely, utterly lonesome. Writing letters to his siblings who complain about his writing style, not receiving any responses from Penelope, he was detached from his taste of interesting, riveting correspondence that he had during his last travels w Penelope and the hunger that seeped from that absence left him starving for it unknowingly.

Even when in the arms of beautiful ladies he didn’t know, he was utterly, completely, alone and unheard and unseen and left chasing for some feeling that he could not grasp or reach. His own insecurities flooded up inside him and left him wondering for something unknown. Looking for the right personality, the right purpose for him to be seen and taken seriously not only by society but also his own family. He doesn’t enjoy adhering to the rules and constructs set up by society but the world does not accept him as he is so he conforms and twists himself up into this fabrication of a person and it works.

Or at the very least, he perceives that it works because Anthony begins to start respecting him and taking him out for celebratory drinks and the ladies seem to swoon at his every word and he isn’t bothering his family about the “unimportant” details of his travels (meaning that he doesn’t speak of his travels to anyone, besides penelope, penelope who encouraged his interests and behaviors and quirks, penelope who embraced him with smiles as bright as early greek mornings that rise with her wit, her beauty, her tenacity.)

His attempt to blend in with the norm has worked, yet he feels oh so alone and empty and unsatisfied. He has been suffering for eons trying to fit in and once he finally reached this goal it’s almost as if… he’s been drained of meaning. It’s almost as if he’s uncomfortable pretending to be this man that society tells him that he must be, as if he doesn’t want to be this man, but instead, wants to simply be, colin.

[turtleblogatlast]

The fact that Leo can go literally anywhere on earth to be alone with his thoughts at a single moment’s notice is something that shakes around in my head all the time. Like, portals and teleportation are amazing and convenient abilities both in and out of battle, but they could also so easily be used to run away as well.

I don’t think Leo ever would, at least not most of the time. He loves his family too much, and is too dependent on their love and attention to cut himself off so suddenly like that, but it’s a very real possibility nonetheless.

It’s a good thing Leo’s overall temper is more on the mild side and he prefers going to his room or something to complete solitude, because it really is dangerous for a kid to have the ability to isolate themselves like that at their fingertips.

[zsbrainrot]

Happy Buddy Daddies Friday! Rei smiling will always be one of my favorite things to draw

[somegrumpynerd]

Truce au part 6 - Time to tell the teams

Start Last Next

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 321

You know Content Warning? Lethal Company but youtube videoing? 

Danny does that- just well, with the Zone. It’s not like it can be mapped out, what with people moving their Lairs and more lairs and islands constantly manifesting. And well, there’s so many things out here, and it’s not like he can be an astronaut.

So, he decided to make exploration logs for the Zone instead, alongside his friends and a doppelganger or two holding equipment. It’s great, and people can donate whenever he live streams so he’s getting income too. 

He just erm, maybe should have double checked it was uploaded to just his dimension…

[dykedvonte]

Ulysses obsession with the Courier is a special type of sad to me cause the Courier’s part was so important but so unwitting. They had no idea what was in the package they delivered and neither did he. Neither had an idea of what it could’ve done and the Courier was only caring out their job (mind you the Courier could be killed via notes in the express contract if they don’t). To them it was just another regular delivery to the divide and one that they likely thought would help, just like all the ones before.

It’s so tragic for Ulysses to hold so much ire to the Courier when it really was the case of it could’ve been anyone. Anyone could have delivered that package but they did and so he focused the blame on them and it destroys what he is trying to instill in the courier on a fundamental level.

[varpusvaras]

Bail stares up at the sky and looks his death in the eye.

He wakes up with a start and almost falls down, but his descent is stopped by the edge of a desk that is suddenly right in front of him. He grabs at it and stops himself from hitting his chin on it, and stares, with his arms shaking and his breath caught up somewhere in his throat.

He is not sure how long he stands there, staring at the desk which sudden existence he cannot comprehend, when there is a sound somewhere to his left and footsteps coming closer.

"Bail?" It's a woman's voice, so familiar but one he knows he shouldn't be hearing speaking to him. "Sir?"

Bail lifts his head and looks over at the voice.

He looks right into Sheltay's face, currently laced over with thin worry.

Bail stares at her. She has been gone for so long, but her face is now clear in his mind and she stands there, just like she was back then, just like she was before they had lost her. He had almost forgotten how much Winter looks like her mother, but there is no doubt of it now.

A new fear grips him. Was Winter off planet, when it all happened? He is not sure suddenly. She must've been, because Bail isn't sure what he is going to say to Sheltay otherwise. He focuses on her again, and thinks, frantically. Shouldn't she know it already? If Winter is also gone, now, shouldn't Sheltay know it by now, shouldn't her daughter be here with her? No, no, Winter must've been off the planet, just like Leia, otherwise he-

Bail looks at Sheltay again. No. No, something is not- something is not correct. Sheltay had cut her hair, just a couple of weeks before the accident, but it is now long and tied high up, like she used to style it when she was still working on as his aide back in the Senate. Bail looks at her more closely. It has been so long since he has last seen her, but...

Sheltay looks truly concerned now.

"Sir?" She calls again, and takes a step closer. "Is everything alright?"

Is everything alright? Bail thinks, almost hysterically. Is everything alright? You are dead. I am dead. Or at least we both should be.

Sheltay doesn't look dead, though, and Bail certainly doesn't feel like dead, either, as he draws in a breath to his now burning lungs. He draws in another, then another, before he feels like he knows again how breathing properly works. Breathing shouldn't feel necessary for someone who was dead, and Bail does feel the instant relief in his body with every breath he takes in.

"I", he starts. He what? He doesn't know what to say. If this isn't what comes after death, what is supposed to happen when one becomes one with the Force, then what is this?

He breathes in deeply again, just to ground himself further. He looks down on his hands, still holding onto the desk. He recognises the desk, now. It's his desk, the one he used to have in his office back in the Senate. He looks furher down, towards his feet. He recognises the carpet beneath them, as well.

He lifts his head and looks around once more. He is in his office, back in the Senate Building, but something is not correct with it either. Leia had been the one using the office more often now, and she had changed some of the decorations and brought in things of her own, and none of those were there now. The place looks just like it had back when Bail had been the only one to use it, back in the days when the Republic had still been standing.

"Bail", Sheltay is now standing right next to him, and reaching out towards him with her hand. "Are you not well? Do I need to call someone?"

Bail looks at her again. Yes, he can now see it. She is younger than what she had been at the time of her death. She is not wearing any of the gifts her husband would so often give to her. She looks just like she had back then, back when the Republic had still been standing, back when the War had been ripping the Galaxy apart.

Bail turns around. He has a row of glass cabinets situated behind his desk, and he looks at himself from the reflection of them.

He had already expected it, seeing himself with all the years gained during the reign of the Empire taken away. There is not even a hint of grey in his hair, and there are so many lines missing from his face that he almost thinks it funny for a moment. Then Sheltay is grabbing his arm, forcing him to look back at her.

"I'm serious", she says. She is looking him over now, her eyes racing over him up and down. "Do you need a doctor?"

Bail shakes his head.

"No", he manages to say. "No, I- I just need to sit down for a moment."

He really does. He takes a step forward, to walk around his desk, and Sheltay guides him over to he couch and quite firmly sits him down.

"Do I need to call someone else?" Sheltay asks again. "Breha?"

Bail looks out of the window, at the pale colours of Coruscant's morning sky. He then glances at the chrono on the wall. It's still early on Alderaan, too early. Breha is not getting up usually until two hours later, earliest. Bail doesn't want to wake her.

It hits him then that in this place he is now, Alderaan is still there. Alderaan and Breha are still there-

-and Leia is not.

It's a strange type of grief he feels then, not one he had thought possible to even exist before this. Leia is not dead, but she is still gone just the same.

Sheltay probably sees him look at the time, as she nods.

"Later, then", she says. "Fox?"

Bail stops breathing.

He stares at Sheltay, because he had been looking at her and cannot make himself move now to look anywhere else.

How could he have forgotten? If Bail is here, if Sheltay is here, if Breha and Alderaan are here, then Fox is here as well.

"Fox", He tries out his name out loud, and Sheltay seems to take that as a confirmation, as she takes out her commlink and starts typing on it.

Bail manages to move, and takes the moment to look up the date.

It's- he is barely second year into the War. It doesn't seem logical, for him to be put in here, in this time, if he truly is dead, not if not for some kindness from the Force, giving him a glimpse of a time when he truly thought there was still a possibility for a brighter future to be right around the corner, when most of the people he loved were still there with him.

It's just strange, to have only him be aware of it all, and not Sheltay. Bail doesn't remember a day like this ever happening before, not that it matters, if this is just some illusion before he finally ceases to exist completely. It's strange, to make everything appear right like it was so long ago, and not like it had been just before his death. It was strange, to make himself feel so alive, just to have him be dead.

Perhaps, a thought enters his mind and doesn't leave. Perhaps you really aren't dead. Perhaps you're here because of all the mistakes you made, and you need to repent for them, before you can let go and move on.

It almost makes him laugh. That, he thinks, that he can do.

Sheltay puts her commlink away, and sits next to him on the couch.

"He said that he will be here as soon as he can", she says. She puts her hand on top of Bail's, and it's warm.

Bail breathes in and nods.

"Thank you", he says, and then it hits him that Fox is alive.

He had thought of it just a moment earlier, but now it truly realises for him that Fox is alive. He has been gone so long as well, so long, too long. Bail has already grieved him in his heart, to a point he has almost stopped hurting so much. Bail had thought, briefly, during his last moments, that perhaps they could still meet before the very end, if he just hadn't already crossed over to where there was nothing left, but this-

This is an entirely different thing.

He needs to call Breha and tell her, he thinks, briefly, before he has to wonder if Breha remembers either. If it's really just him. That does make the most sense, as Bail is the one who had done all the mistakes, not Breha.

Perhaps he's in his thoughts for longer than he thinks he is, because suddenly the door is sliding open, and Fox is stumbling in, his hands already pulling his helmet off of his head.

"I'm here", he says. He's breathing hard, like he had just been running. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure-" Sheltay starts, but Bail doesn't hear what she is saying. He stands up, and walks towards Fox. Fox, who is hurrying to put his helmet down on the desk, in order to get his hands free, and then walking towards him.

Bail looks at him as he walks. He remembers it all now, how Fox used to look back then during this time. The way his hair curls over his forehead, where the silver strands are on his temples, how his eyes shift from dark brown to golden when the sliver of sunlight from the window hits them just right. There are a few things missing, things that Bail knows only came later. The way his skin would be bruised just from pure exhaustion. The way he would be tense, even when he was trying to relax, just for a moment. This was, is, before all of that. This is before that one night, when everything had started to unravel. This is before Fox had started to cry himself to sleep every night, calling himself all the horrible names there existed in the Galaxy.

This is before all of that. Fox still looks just like he had when he had still looked at Bail and Breha with wonder in his eyes and a smile on his lips whenever they would say I love you.

He looks just as beautiful as Bail remembers.

Fox opens his mouth to say something, but he is so close already, and Bail cannot wait for anything. He pulls Fox into his arms and holds him, trying to feel him through the armor. He buries his face into Fox's neck, not caring about the cold, hard alloy of his pauldron digging into him, and thinks he can hear his heartbeat beneath the warm, tan skin.

There are hands on his back, then one at the back of his head.

"Bail?" He hears Fox's voice clearly from this close, even though he is speaking quietly, almost whispering. "Are you alright?"

Bail breathes in Fox's scent before answering, a mixture of regulation soap, bolt residue and armor polish and just him beneath it all.

"Yes."

"You're crying."

Oh. Bail lifts his face up, just a bit, and blinks. There are tears stuck to his eyelashes, heavy and warm, and he thinks he can see some having landed on Fox as well, if he looks closely enough.

"I'm sorry", he mumbles. It has been a while he has cried, or been overwhelmed like this. He had not given himself permission for being nothing else but calm, when he had heard about Leia being captured. He had not let himself cry when he had held Breha as they awaited for their death, no matter how much he had wanted to do so. Breha had needed him too much for him to fall apart even more.

"It's okay", Fox says. He is carding his fingers through Bail's hair. "What's going on?"

So much. So much is going on, and Bail doesn't know where or when to start.

He knows he needs to decide on those, sooner or later, but before any of that, he has one thing to say.

"I love you", he whispers against Fox's skin.

Fox stills, just for a moment, a moment long enough for Bail to wonder if the version of him Fox had known before in this time had even gotten to say it yet.

Then he continues, running his fingers up and down, his other hand on Bail's back holding onto him just a little tighter.

"I love you too", he whispers back. Bail closes his eyes.

When he opens them, he's ready to take on the Galaxy, once again.