#I’m thinking of this because my parents just watched crash landing on you and now THAT was a drama with SPARKLE 💖

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ Joel’s mother arrives for the weekend, she wants you to break up with him, even trying to set him up with his real state gorgeous agent. But Joel only has eyes for you.

warnings_ NO OUTBREAK, age gap! (20s/ late30s) but not specifically stated so do what u want, angst, fluff, mentions of dildos and inappropriate use of nightgowns, implied sex. NO PROOFREAD

notes_ Am I the only one who thinks good graces from Sabrina Carpenter is very pre-outbreak Joel! ????? HAPPY SEP 1! JOEL’S BIRTHDAY MONTH AND WE’RE CLOSE TO 🍂 AUTUMN 🍂

✰ 𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙓 (𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚)

♪ ♫ 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙋𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤 𝙃𝙀𝙍𝙀

Eating cheap burritos, and sitting on the stairs of your parent's porch, by the end of the summer, Joel Miller asked to be your boyfriend.

“Can we be together?” you nearly choked at his words.

“Like… a couple?” He nodded, smiling shyly.

Truth is, you were shocked. You felt the tension since you met him in winter, but actually hearing from him that he wanted to be your boyfriend, being older and wiser than you, it was very shocking.

“Yeah… I’d like that, Joel”

And with that, he gave you the first kiss you had received in years after a hateful relationship.

You were in your twenties having a boyfriend in his mid-thirties, with a teenage daughter, and a hilarious brother, and his mother hated you.

But that wasn’t a worry at the beginning of the relationship.

-

You literally ran to the sidewalk as soon as you heard the mail bus speeding away.

Immediately you collected the package that landed in your grass. Because, since your parent's house was comfortable and big enough, they were not in a rush to kick you out. You were a local in the state university so… Why find a place away from your family and boyfriend?

Before you could have even thought about rushing inside, you heard Joel’s truck pulling into his home. Your hot neighbor had arrived.

Already blushing, you said hi to him.

“Hey, pretty one… Whatcha got there?” You looked down at the package in your hands.

“Books…” Joel noticed your shy smile, so he knew you were hiding something else.

“If you had let me find you a junk car, you could have avoided ordering them online” you rolled your eyes.

“Joel… we’ve talked about this, when the time comes and I feel confident, I’ll get that fucking license” he nodded, smiling widely at the sight of his girlfriend. He thought he was already too old to be into dating. But you hadn’t even tried, it was him who couldn’t get you out of his mind. And while he was embarrassed at the beginning, especially with your parents because of the age gap, now he was thankful.

“I know, baby. I’m not pressuring you, and certainly, I love being your chauffeur whenever you need me to…” you had told him you had been in a little car crash when you were eighteen, making you feel some panic about being behind the wheel again. And now, you weren’t afraid anymore, you just didn’t want to pressure it, the time would come naturally, it always did.

“So, I will go and open the package. I’ll come later to watch a movie with you and Sarah” you said walking towards the door, but Joel came hurriedly to grab you by the waist and hold you tightly.

“Sarah is having a sleepover with her friends. Tommy is doing extra hours at work. Why don’t ya come and show me what’s inside the box, darlin?…huh” you blush harder.

“Why are you implying there’s more inside the box?… other than books?” He smirked, his fingers were playing dangerously across your hips and you watched around to see if there wasn’t any nosy neighbor around.

“I know you like the palm of my hand, baby”

“Okay, you got me, Joel. I bought two cheesy romance books, a naughty nightgown, and a hearts dildo” he laughed, grabbing your hand and guiding you inside his house.

“You got to be kiddin’ me” you went straight to his kitchen to grab a knife and open the damn box.

Joel saw you very thoughtful, avoiding his gaze and noticing the shy smile resting on your face.

He got closer and almost choked once he saw the contents inside the box.

“You’re gonna kill me, y/n…”

There were indeed two books, a hot pink nightgown with lacy orange cleavage, very y2k. And the damn dildo, made of plastic that simulated being made of crystal, pink with a big pink heart handle.

“I told you…” you said playfully, Joel chuckled.

“Naughty girl…” Before you could blink, Joel picked you up, making you sit on his table and kissing you immediately.

“Are you gonna let me see you in that nightgown? Maybe let me watch you use that little toy?” Your cheeks were on fire as you listened to your boyfriend.

“God, Joel… shut up,” you said giggling.

“You cannot expect me to simply ignore what’s on the table, darlin’…”

“This is what we’re gonna do… we’ll seat and read one of my books while I wear the nightgown, I’ll be in your lap and you’ll get hard, so then… I’ll consider giving you a show with that fucking dildo."

“Fuck, baby…” Joel literally moaned.

“Let me tell my parents I’m staying and that Sarah is here,” you said, sliding off of the table. Joel knew your parents respected your relationship with him, but you still find it awkward to be publicly romantic in front of them. And he respected it as well.

“Fine, I’ll order Chinese food and we are taking a shower together”

“I can’t wait,” you said with your phone in your ear, watching your boyfriend disappear in the hallway.

-

Two weeks passed with simplicity and the summer was officially dying. You noticed that overnight you were slightly cold and the same in the morning. However, the days were still warm.

“Have you seen my everyday shirt?” Joel asked wandering in his closet, which made you giggle.

“I have it…”

“Darlin’…What am I gonna wear for breakfast then?” you hid under the sheets of his bed, feeling how he slowly made his way towards you.

In the sudden quietness, you tried to stay still, hoping to hear his footsteps approaching. You couldn’t lie, it built some tension and panic.

In a second, Joel finds his way to wrap his arms around you and captures you in an invasive embrace.

“JOEL!” You yell, being a little too dramatic.

He started tickling you, making you squirm and yelp, Joel couldn’t stop laughing.

“Hey, weirdos…” suddenly Sarah called from the doorframe. Joel uncovered you, lifting the bedsheets from your face and body, letting you see his daughter holding a phone in her hand.

“Grandma called, she’s coming this Friday.” The girl said, smiling at you.

“Oh… that’s nice.” You said, brushing Joel’s arm and trying to stay chill.

“I’ll call her later…” Joel muttered.

“Are you staying for dinner, y/n?” Sarah asked you.

“If you want to…” the girl nodded at you and then disappeared through the hallway.

You sighed, throwing yourself into the soft pillows. It was then that you noticed Joel hadn’t said a word and hadn’t touched you in at least two minutes, which was odd.

“Why do you suddenly look constipated?” Joel rolled his eyes but chuckled.

“We had plans for this weekend and you know my mother is not very… fond of you” Slowly, you nodded.

Mrs. Miller was quite young, Joel following her steps of being a parent in their youth. The woman made it clear the first time she met you that she didn’t like you. There wasn’t an actual confrontation but she usually ignored you.

“Why is it though? Because I’m younger?”

“Dunno, baby…” Joel said shrugging.

“But do not worry about her. We’re still havin’ fun. I won’t let her make you feel weird”

“I know that, Joel” he finally kissed you, soothing you in the way.

You won’t worry about that, because you immediately forget the moment Joel puts his arms around you and kisses you deeply.

-

It amazed you how fast things changed in two days. The moment Mrs. Miller arrived, she barely gave you a glance. She pleaded with Tommy, Sarah, and your boyfriend to have a family private dinner. Joel literally begged you to go with them but you wanted to be a reasonable girlfriend, so you said it was fine.

The following morning, you asked Joel if he wanted to have breakfast with you alone but her mother suddenly claimed she wanted to see some of the most famous spots of Texas. And in the afternoon, she made Joel take her to the mall because she wanted to crochet something for Sarah. Why didn’t she ask Tommy?

“Mrs. Miller, good evening” you greeted her, looking at how she was already perfectly styled, drinking a coke. She only gave you an awkward smile.

“Hey, love…” you then greeted your boyfriend giving him a little kiss on his cheek. The way his mother was staring made you feel odd.

“Are we going, son?” Mrs. Miller asked. You frowned confused. It was so strange to feel like the older woman was competing with you for Joel's attention.

“Uh-…” Joel stood there unsure of what to do.

“I promised Sarah that I would crochet a plushie for her…” The woman finished her drink while looking attentively at Joel, waiting for an answer.

“Fine, but it must be quick”

“I’ll get my jacket” Mrs. Miller finally disappeared.

Feeling irritated, you turned to face Joel.

“We were supposed to watch a movie together…” the man was visibly stressed out. And you didn’t want to annoy him but it was getting tiring to get dodged because of his mother.

“I know… I just…-“ you sigh, trying to be once again the comprehensive girlfriend.

“It’s okay, Joel. Enjoy having your mother around. Just let me know before making plans…” he nods, hugging you as if thanking you.

Through the door, her mother appeared once again, this time, holding the house wireless phone.

“Joel… Nani is calling you” Joel steps away from you and frowns.

“Who’s Nani?” You ask, crossing your arms and hoping to not sound too jealous.

“The real estate agent that works with Tommy and me. I just don’t get why she’s calling the house number” he sounds honest as he answers.

Your heart pounds a little faster and insecurity fills you in. You trust Joel, but you didn't like how nice his mother sounded about that girl named Nani.

“That’s the type of woman my son needs. You know?…” Mrs. Miller whispered as you brushed past her.

The only thing you did was to side-eye her and finally leave. You would call Joel in the night apologizing for leaving without saying anything. Although you weren’t in the mood to give explanations. An odd feeling grew in your guts, and that night, you couldn't sleep well.

Maybe the woman hadn’t been mean to you, but your blood was already boiling by the way Joel was handling the issue.

It was the day you were supposed to go with Joel and Sarah to the pumpkin patch. But with her mother being added to the plans, you weren’t so excited anymore. At least she would arrive later.

“Are you going to get ready anytime soon?” Your mother asked in your doorframe.

“I’m not excited to go anymore.”

“Let me guess… Joel’s mother?” You nodded at her. Your mother took a seat beside you in the bed.

“I’m gonna ask you something, okay?” Once again, you nod at her.

“You love Joel?”

“Very much, Mom”

“Then fuck off her mother, respectfully. You only have to be a good partner for Joel, not to prove anything to his mother, y/n”

She had a point.

“Now get ready and enjoy your evening with your boyfriend. If her mother joins, you are not there for her, remember…”

So you chose a cranberry sweater, you make a Smokey brown eye look that matches your gorgeous fall boots and 2000s coach handbag.

-

The sky is baby pink, which contrasts with the trees and their drying leaves. There’s a lot of series of lights decorating the pumpkin patch and making the place feel like it’s already later than it already is.

The laughs of Sarah and Tommy pull you back to reality. You spot them making fun of Joel who had bought a slice of pumpkin pie and the whipped cream of it was spattered across his face. How on earth did that happen?

“What are you doing?” You asked when your boyfriend stood beside you. He had a green and caramel open flannel with some white tee and jeans. He looked so fucking hot.

“My wallet fell and when I grabbed it, I forgot I had the cake in the other hand” you started giggling, whipping some of the cream with your pinky finger.

“Silly baby…” he rolled his eyes at you but then fixed his eyes on your lips. He couldn’t resist you, so he had to lean and kiss you.

Your fingers trace the little heart where his beard doesn’t grow as usual, and his big calloused hands find their usual spot between your neck and shoulder while the other softly grasp your chin.

“We can see you from here!” Both of you heard Sarah playfully yelling, which made you giggle and move away from Joel.

Sarah comes enthusiastically, gripping her father’s arms before also grabbing your hand.

“Hey, Tommy and I will go around and play…” you nodded at the girl, noticing the beige sweater with a pumpkin print. You wave at them one last time before turning to see Joel licking the rest of the whipped cream from his face.

His mother hasn’t appeared yet, claiming she would arrive later because she wanted to take her time. You haven’t told Joel about what she said last time you saw her. You also avoid prying about Nani. You just wanted to enjoy some quality time with him, only to remember how happy he made you.

“We should go to the haunted house and let me finger you in the mirror room”

“Joel, you’re disgusting” you answer laughing so hard at the unexpected comment.

“I was kidding, let's go and buy more food, I don't think I want to share my pumpkin pie with you”

“I like that plan” you answer, kissing his cheek. He offered his hand, which you gladly took.

“JOEL!” When both of you turn, you see his mother alongside a tall gorgeous woman.

“What the fuck?” Joel whispered.

“I found Nani!” Mrs. Miller said excitedly.

Nani was at least 5’7, with long dark hair, tanned skin, and green eyes. She had the thin body of a model and her clothes looked expensive. She also had a perfect smile.

“Joel, I was expecting you to call me,” the woman said giggling.

"Isn't she lovely, Joel?" His mother questioned with a fake smile.

Your heart stopped. You didn’t even know how to feel. You just stood there, ignoring the way Mrs. Miller was probably celebrating your downfall.

Joel turned to look at you, half pleading you and half panicking.

“Are you Joel’s daughter?” Nani asked and you wanted to cry.

Your eyes watered and you gripped your bag with violence to beat the anxiety.

“No, I’m not. Please excuse me… and nice to meet you” you said to the woman before bolting from there.

You heard Joel calling you but you ignored him.

-

That night you went out to take out some trash. The trash cans near your dad's car gave you the perfect view of Joel's porch, where he was smoking a cigarette. He had said in the past that he found himself smoking whenever he was under pressure or stress.

You remember his face when his mother appeared with Nani. He looked confused and annoyed as hell. But you also remembered the way he had barely put effort into trying to make you feel comfortable around his mother.

"I can see you, y/n..." You heard him calling you, but you had already turned around to go back inside the house.

"You know I love you so much, baby..."

Tears prickled in your eyes. You sighed.

"Seems like you can't love me enough when your mother's around" you spitted back, facing him, watching his hurt face before entering your house again.

-

The tranquility that filled your house was impressive. Your parents went out to a concert and then, they would have dinner, so they left you alone. And since you were ignoring Joel’s calls, your homework and chores were done, and there wasn’t anything else to do. Opting to play Lesley Gore in a low tone, you decided to bake something. It was colder, the neighbors had already begun hanging fake ghosts on their doors, some carved pumpkins decorated the grass and the smell of cinnamon was in every coffee shop.

But in your house, you started by placing all of the ingredients in the little island of the kitchen. Oat flour, granulated sugar, condensed milk, eggs, cinnamon and pumpkin purée.

The second day you didn't appear near the Miller’s house, you found Sarah and Tommy on your floor demanding to know why the hell you were mad with Joel.

You told them, avoiding some parts to discuss alone with Tommy but they both understood you. And it was obvious that Tommy would go and tell everything to Joel, but you actually hoped he did.

They also shared Mrs. Miller was officially gone. Tommy and Joel had a big argument with their mother. You couldn’t help but think it must’ve been hard for Joel. But then you remember how little effort he did to soothe you. Although Tommy promised you Nani and your boyfriend had nothing to do together, you were still mad.

And then a sudden knock on the door made you look away from your progressing baking. You weren’t expecting anyone, your parents had their keys and you didn’t order anything.

On the other side of the door, there was Joel. Looking nervous, holding a box of takeout and another bag with flowers peaking.

“Joel…” you weren’t expecting him. At least not on that day.

“I’m truly sorry, baby…” he said pleading.

“I wanted to enjoy having my mother around but I wasn’t expecting her to behave that way and it wasn’t my intention to lose you over that” You tilted your head.

“You haven’t lost me, dumbass. But I’m far from being happy…” he nodded.

“Can I come in? I brought your favorite noddles and tempura.” A little smile appears on your face.

“I was about to bake pumpkin and cinnamon rolls”

He had his dirty dark blue shirt, disheveled hair, and cozy joggers. Even when you weren’t pleased with him, you could feel the strong love you felt for him running through your veins with eagerness.

He followed you to the kitchen, where he placed the takeout and the other bag, then turned around to see you.

“Before anything else, I want to be clear and discuss what happened”

“Okay…” you answered.

“When Sarah’s mother left… I had nobody. Tommy was still a boy. Only my mother saw everything” Slowly, you offered him a cup of warm tea made of apples, cinnamon, cloves, and oranges. You were open to hearing him, just hoping he’d apologize.

“My mother helped me a lot eventually. But she knows how much I struggled… I was confident about not wanting to be involved with another woman. I even ignorantly started to believe all were the same” he says, drinking from his cup and watching you attentively.

“But thankfully I met you. We became friends before anything, you always showed how much you liked my family. And you turned out to be an amazing partner. You’re more than I could have ever wished for, y/n” you blush, nervously smiling at him. But he rushes to grab your hand as if he needs to confirm to you his words.

“I thought my mother was going to be happy for me finding the love of my life” he means it, you can tell by the way his brown eyes look up at you.

“Before this, I hadn’t even talked to Nina. I knew she was around but that was it. My mother had given her my number, Can you believe it?” For some reason, you laugh which results contagious for him.

“She said she wanted a woman like Nani for you” you admitted.

Joel sighed, rolling his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I can’t believe her…”

For Joel, it had been difficult after you left the pumpkin patch. He apologized to Nani, explaining that it was a mistake and that had a girlfriend. Then Tommy and Sarah arrived home mad at him after visiting you. It was when he decided to have a talk with his mother. It didn’t end very well. And that was what tore him the most. Joel expected his mother to respect his relationship.

But he hoped she would understand one day. At the moment, it only mattered to him to make you feel loved and secure.

“I can easily see a bright future by your side, darlin’… I won’t let some stupid shit to ruin it.”

You knew very well Joel’s heart was too big and warm. You trusted him and you knew he never wanted to hurt you. Contrary to what his mother said, Joel was the type of man you needed. And you had him apologizing, promising to be good, and hoping to build a future along you.

“You haven’t lost me and I doubt you ever will, Joel….” you said hugging him tightly.

“See… I’m so lucky to have you, baby” Stepping on your tip toes, you kissed him deeply. Finding comfort in his embrace as usual. The memory of his mother is long gone.

“Love you…” he said in your ear.

“Love you more…” you whispered back.

And with that, the rest of the afternoon consisted of baking the fluffiest and softest pumpkin and cinnamon rolls, made with much love by you and Joel. And to his mother’s dismay, you would marry Joel Miller the following spring.

______________________________________________

I’m writing a new fic for Pedro’s Reed Richard’s and another Marcus Acaius based on the infamous emerald ring <3

[hardbeingcasual]

better off — lottie matthews. . . fem reader

warnings. plane crash, blood, losing a limb, typical yj stuff, angst, first fic in like 10 months so dont judge plssss, not proof read

summary. before the crash lottie shut you out, the only time she spoke to you was for soccer, until… you get hurt in the crash and she starts to regret her actions.

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A few hours ago you were nervous for nationals, but now you were nervous for your own life.

You were perched up against a tree, Misty right in your face trying to convince you that you were going to be okay as you clutch your arm thats bleeding… badly.

But you didn’t believe her. Why would you believe Misty?

Your arm was soaked in blood, it was disgustingly unfixable.

You knew it had to be amputated, like Coach Ben’s leg moments ago. You suck in a deep breath, tears falling freely down your face as you look up to see that most of the team (the alive ones) were stood there looking at you sorrowfully.

Your eyes land on Lottie, and you don’t even fight the eye roll. Your eyes move to Misty, more tears falling down your cheeks from the pain you’re feeling.

“Do what you’ve got to do.” You tell her in utter defeat. You just wanted the wilderness to swallow you up whole right here. Misty nods at your words.

You scream so loud at the pain, your vocal cords straining as the pain in your arm increases as Misty begins to amputate your arm. The group can’t help but just watch as Misty hacks your arm off.

Lottie wanted to go over and hold your remaining hand but she was frozen. A frown on her face as she watches you squirm in pain.

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A few days had gone by, you still hadn’t been rescued, it was getting tougher and tougher to get used to having one arm.

You were currently sat on the grass away from everyone to get some peace just for a little bit, you liked to take breaks from the group, just sitting alone with your thoughts when the group got too much.

You snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a twig snap behind you, whipping your head around you were face to face with Lottie.

You ask, “What do you want?” In a not so kind tone, but the tone was honestly deserved.

Lottie shrugs like she was a deer in the headlights, “Thought you would’ve wanted some company.”

You scoff at her. “Didn’t think you were talking to me.” You honestly felt offended, now that you had no arm she wanted to speak to you? Whatever.

She sits next to you on the grass, picking up with a stick and starts poking it in the mud anxiously. “How is your arm?”

“Still gone.” You say bluntly to which she nods awkwardly.

“Sorry.” She mutters, still digging holes into the ground as she never held eye contact. Your lip trembles, from the pain of your arm but also your heart.

“Why did you stop talking to me? Why did you shut me out?” You questioned, swallowing the lump in your throat as she finally lifted her eyes from the ground to look at you.

“I was ashamed.” She confesses.

Your eyebrows raise “Of me?”

“No, of me. Of what I was feeling. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship—”

You cut her off. “But you already did that, by shutting me out and ignoring me, Lottie.” Her name felt like venom on your tongue.

“When you kissed me, my parents saw us,” Your face falls at that, Lottie continues, “They told me not to see you again, so I listened, because I was scared on what was going to happen and I’m sorry, okay?” A few tears slip down Lottie’s cheeks as she tells you, tears pool in your eyes also.

“I thought I did something wrong.” You frown at her, as she holds your hand.

“You could never.”

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requests are open !

[micamicster]

19th life simply does not have It

Gonna say something mean 💕 in my reblog let’s keep this between us girls ok?

[emo-batboy]

I’m 1000% certain there’s a file of test videos (for research purposes ofc) of Battinson trying all of his fancy gadgets. These include but are not limited to:

Flying right into walls with his grappling hook

Jumping and falling like dead weight in his gliding suit prototypes

Just staring at himself in the mirror with his new contact lens and muttering, “I swear I can still see it”

Bruce watching over Alfred’s shoulder and scribbling frantically as Alfred tests out the bullet-proofness of the suit and cape

Crashing the Batmobile with his various turbo engine prototypes

Tossing differently-shaped batarangs at a target to see how it affects their trajectory

(Getting yelled at by Alfred because he decided to put the target right next to the elevator and almost killed him)

Submerged in a big tub of water for ten minutes to see if the rebreathing apparatus he made works then realizing he forgot to bring down towels then looking like a drowned rat as he waits for Alfred to come down

Raising his eyebrows several times under the cowl before deciding that he needs to make it bigger because it’s still obviously him

Injecting himself with different doses of his adrenaline shot (Alfred rips him a new one for trying it without supervision)

A random video of Bruce spinning in his chair and mumbling along to Mitski while he thinks of his latest case (how did that get in there)

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at handheld rocket boosters

Eating shit every time he makes another attempt at rocket boots

Cutting off power to the entire building after using an early model of his EMP gun

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while a little baby bat just nestles in his hair (how did that get in there)

Smacking himself in the face with a nunchuck while trying out a new technique (he was incredibly sleep-deprived, like 62-hours-without-sleep-deprived, Alfred confiscates the nunchucks)

Coughing up a lung while testing out his new smoke pellets and immediately regretting it because this is literally a sub-level basement, what was he thinking

Dick complaining about how annoying and heavy his first Robin suit is “How can I do cool flips off a building if I can’t even touch my toes?” “You are not flipping off of buildings.”

Testing over 200 prototypes of flexible bulletproof fabric for the new Robin suit. (Dick spends this time practicing flips off of high places. Just for fun.)

Breaking his new night vision lens by turning off the lights, realizing he forgot to turn the lens on first, and immediately walking into a chair

Trying out an audio frequency jammer, but when he turns it on, all of the bats in the cave swarm him and he freaks the fuck out (Dick starts calling it the Bat Beacon, Bruce refuses to acknowledge its existence)

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Dick cuddles himself into the back of Bruce’s sweatshirt, fast asleep (how did that get in there)

Doing donuts with the Batmobile using its new remote controller while Dick cheers him on from a safe distance

Landing on his ass after shooting his net launcher without planting his feet first

Dick doing various flips and other skills in his new Robin suit while Bruce takes notes

Testing different skin-safe adhesives for Dick’s domino mask

Slipping on ice after using their new freeze grenades

Adding a parental lock onto the computer because Dick keeps playing Roblox on it when Bruce is gone

Installing a new entrance to the bat cave because Jason said he totally missed the opportunity to have a secret entrance behind a bookcase and now they’re all in agreement because it is much cooler than a boring service elevator

Cutting through random materials with their new set his collapsible knives and swords, including his table which he did not mean to break

Dick and Jason screaming bloody murder when they walk in on him testing a cloaking device prototype and appearing out of literally nowhere

Jason messing with the taser Bruce gave him and immediately getting it confiscated

Pacing in circles to perfect the tracking devices he installed in Dick and Jason’s utility belts

Pouring over footage on the bat computer, grease paint and all, while Jason is in his lap, rambling about what he did in school today (how did that get in there)

Bruce, Dick, and Jason in a puppy pile on Bruce’s office chair, despite there being two perfectly functional chairs right beside that one. They’re all fast asleep

[landoscaring]

landoscar fic masterlist

my amazing takes have garnered me a few new followers, so i thought i'd create a bit of a masterlist for the fics i've written for these two maniacs that perhaps you'd like to read, if you're so inclined (if not, that's okay! you can keep enjoying my frankly incredible takes, will buxton i am COMING for you in the cleanest of ways).

Edit: this started out small with just a few fics but now it's quite big, so, read below:

greet me with goodbye (completed, 3/3) (memory loss fic) (E)

Oscar is more than used to speed, for obvious reasons.

Speed has been a constant in his life, even as a child. His mom, embarrassingly, likes to tell people that as a kid he’d pretend to act like a car, revving up and down his house like a madman. He remembers his first karting competition, the confidence that flowed through his veins and the adrenaline of thinking he was the fastest 10-year-old to ever exist. He’s still confident, he has to be, in order to make it in this sport, but he’s had years to refine his technique, understand his car, and finesse his driving so he can achieve the speed he needs to win a race. His speed on track has earned him a spot in the most exclusive grid on the planet, a process that was fast-tracked itself when he made the move to McLaren, shocking the motorsport world as he did.

And yet.

a landoscar soundtrack (series) (4 parts/?)

we might as well be strangers (3/3) (what you need to know: oscar-moves-to-a-different-team-and-lando-has-feelings fic) (E)

Lando really should’ve known better than to get attached.

Scratch that.

He should’ve known better than to fall in love with a teammate. Again.

maps (1/1) (what you need to know: oscar is one jealous dude and has a lot of thoughts about it) (M)

Oscar’s never really thought of himself as a jealous person. His mom jokes that he’d been a pretty chill baby, and that even when his younger sisters came along, he never really fought for his parents’ attention, which at first worried his parents, afraid that he’d simply been building on his rage and would throw a fit eventually. But no, not really, Oscar had just been content with being there, watching the world around him with wide, observant eyes. So long as they let him read his car magazines and zoom around his house pretending to be a Ferrari, he was fine with having his younger sisters around.

only to live in your memories (1/1) (what you need to know: oscar yearns, lando flirts, it all comes crashing down at danny ric's wedding) (E)

“I think Ozzy here is not telling us something, mate,” George conspires, and Alex hiccups through a laugh before he stands, wobbly, and walks closer to where Oscar’s standing.

“Out with it, you rascal,” says Alex, hand aiming for Oscar’s shoulder but landing somewhere on his collarbone instead.

Oscar can’t help laughing at the ridiculous display in front of him and decides to simply accept his fate and tell them, as good-naturedly as he can: “Pretty sure he’s somewhere around here hooking up with Daniel’s sister.”

He’d thought his pals’ reactions would range from vulgar remarks to crude gestures, jokes at Daniel’s expense, that sort of thing. Instead, his announcement is met with drunk pity. They both look like they kicked a puppy, and the puppy is Oscar.

This is precisely why he’d been pretending to be drunk. So that they could maintain the guise of not remembering the next day and doing it all over again at the next wedding.

kisses (4/?) (what you need to know: post-race fics to heal or destroy, there is no in-between) (E)

chapter 1: zandvoort

chapter 2: monza

chapter 3: austin

chapter 4: mexico

never break the chain (4/5) (what you need to know: lando and oscar hate each other because of a racing incident when they were kids! but then they're teammates! oh no!) (E)

Zac looks at Lando, then at Oscar, and then back at Lando. “You need to sort this out, stat. I’m not having this –”

“What are you going on about? We’re golden, Oscar and I,” Lando bristles. “Practically besties, aren’t we, Osco?”

Lando knows using his old nickname for Oscar is a low blow, if his expression is anything to go by. But whatever. He’s fed up with this, and he wants Oscar as far away from him as possible, so if it hurts him, good.

Zac is turning red, and his mouth is opening, surely to remind Lando of his place, but Oscar beats him to it. He stands, inclines his head politely in Zac’s direction, and steps directly in front of Lando’s chair. His jaw is set, eyes cold. Lando has never seen him angry, had thought him incapable of it.

“I wasn’t expecting much, but I definitely thought you’d at least grown the fuck up,” he sneers. “Clearly, I was wrong. And for the record, you crashed into me. Thank you, Zac, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

secret's a blinking light (1/1) (what you need to know: fake marriage! oh no! lando needs to stay in australia what will oscar do!) (M)

So, he thinks he surprises himself and his sister Hattie and every single person he’s ever interacted with when he says, “I’ll marry you” to Lando Norris one Thursday afternoon in late May.

(He can blame it on George’s and Alex’s pestering, that.)

Lando seems surprised, too, but he recovers quickly.

como te vas (1/1) (what you need to know: lando eats oscar's choco bunny. oscar is looking for it. chaos ensues) (T)

Oscar, who’s pacing around the room with a confused expression adorning his face. His gorgeous, kissable face. Lando quickly forgets about the stupid fucking game and instead starts to plan his attack. He could launch himself from here, probably. Oscar would catch him. Or. Well. He could also fall flat on his face, and everyone knows that’s like, 78% of his whole charm or whatever. Anyway.

He calculates. Closes one eye. Turns his head sideways. Oscar’s still pacing the room, rummaging through the discarded clothing on the floor; the mess on his bedside table.

Lando rolls his eyes.

“Something missing?”

new romance (ilysfm) (3/3) (what you need to know: oh no they get accidentally married in vegas! but then they talk about it! it's cool!) (E)

There’s a beat of silence, and Lando just has to know, he needs to know, so he asks: “Do you remember anything?”

Oscar shakes his head slowly. He lifts a hand, then starts enumerating: “I remember the podium, debrief, hotel, taxi, club, Max, some horrible dancing, tequila –”

“That’s what I—,” Lando starts to say, relieved and disappointed at the same time, and then there’s a glint of something on Oscar’s hand, and instead he says, “fucking hell, what the fuck.”

Oscar splutters, his eyes darting around the room and across Lando’s body quickly in search of damage. “Wha—?”

“We’re both wearing rings,” and Lando’s head is spinning, but something tells him he’s right. “We’re in Vegas. We’re both wearing rings in Vegas, Oscar.”

i just want you for my own (1/4) (what you need to know: secret-santa-exchange-at -the-office landoscar! they are secretly in love! santa fixes it!) (M)

Los Boyos

Today

Georgie (affectionate) [12:03 PM]:

Hohoho, mateys.

Albonito [12:04 PM]:

? good afternoon?

Albonito [12:06 PM]:

…well go on george don’t leave us hanging mate

Georgie (affectionate) [12:07 PM]:

Apologies. Ocon needed some help with the printer.

Georgie (affectionate) [12:08 PM]:

just overheard lewis and seb in the lounge room. apparently nando wants the whole floor to partake in a secret santa exchange. details to come.

december '24 (or, a landoscar fever dream) (series, 4 parts)

Lando [12:09 PM]:

mint. is that the one were you steal peoples gifts i love that game

you know how to ball (i know aristotle) (1/1) (what you need to know: post wcc 2024, landoscar finally do something about it) (E).

Oscar tries not to stare at Lando as he moves through the crowd, at the graceful sway of his hips, the delicate set of his shoulders. He sees how he places his hands over people’s backs, shoulders, arms, head tipped back in delight, lips stretched thin in a smile that radiates self-assuredness and confidence. A finally. Someone reaches over to adjust Oscar’s cap and he grins in their direction, hoping they can’t see where his eyes had been. Andrea catches his eye on the way down, though, and there’s a glint there that lets Oscar know he’s been caught on. He laughs, shrugs one shoulder. Andrea rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face never falters.

it's night time (time to play) (1/1) (what you need to know: fia gala + plus one allegations +strip poker +mile high club) (E).

Oscar almost forgets about the whole thing until Lando messages him three days later, asking him what he’s up to.

Not much, mate, I think I’m still hungover.

lmao lightwait. did you think about my offer

What offer?

to come to ruanda with me

Oh. Right. So he hadn’t imagined that whole exchange.

Not sure I’m what they mean when they say you can have a plus one, Lando.

in your eyes (i see and feel it all) (1/1) (what you need to know: galex conspires to gift landoscar a padel date) (T)

wdym? your my mate

and you won the thing to like

plus ill be so bored osc come on

Friends, Lando thinks, are overrated.

His certainly are, anyway.

Specifically, those who think they’re being coy by setting him up on a padel date with his teammate. Whom they know he’s been in love with for the better part of the year. And who remains painfully clueless about the whole thing.

He’d approached him, at the end of the season, holding up his padel coupons from Alex with a hopeful, knowing glint in his eye. The news of their conspicuously identical secret santa gifts had traveled fast across the paddock. Max had laughed, loudly, and clapped a hand over Lando’s shoulder in what Lando thinks was his idea of commiseration. Maybe, Oscar had said, floppy brown hair blowing gently back in the Qatari air, once it’s warm back at home, we could…and Lando had nodded before he’d even finished the sentence.

He regrets that moment, thoroughly and completely.

there's a hole in you and me (that pulls us together) (1/1) (what you need to know: lando says oscar's name on stream) (M)

He listens to Max ramble on and complain about the lag, and soon enough they’re playing. Lando ignores the chat and focuses on the mission. But then the guy next to him, his partner, takes a wrong turn and Lando says, without thinking, “On the right, Osca—Connor, on the right.”

And yeah, he knows how that’s going to go. Max is quiet, but he sees him subtly shake his head at him. Lando double checks that he’s not needed and turns around to find Oscar looking at him from the bed, mouth quirked up.

“Did you just –”

Lando nods, sheepish. It’s not like they’re a complete secret, even. They haven’t exactly been quiet about it. Their friends know, and the team, too. But –yeah, it’s not public-public, yet.

[georgie-weasley]

Spontaneous pt. 2 G.W. x reader

Warnings: One swear word, talk of self loathing, Fred and Lee Jordan shenanigans

Word Count: 2.8k

Pairing: George Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: George finally pulled it together and asked you on a date but it had some bumps along the way.

Masterlist Part 1

The week passed by painfully slowly. On Sunday, the day after George plucked up the courage to ask you out, he woke up thinking it was Saturday. He was very disappointed to learn he was wrong. Monday was slow but they usually are. Tuesday felt like Monday. Wednesday was only good because George spent his free period pranking Filch which happened to be one of his favorite ways to pass the time. He thought Thursday was Friday and he spent the whole day pouting every time he was reminded it wasn’t Friday. When it finally was Friday, George couldn’t sit still. He was sweaty and jumpy and got on every one of Fred’s nerves.

Now that it was Saturday, George paced around the courtyard, checking his watch just about every minute. 7:58. Everyone would be leaving in just two minutes and he couldn’t see you anywhere. You couldn’t have gotten lost. He knew for a fact your parents made sure you were always on time so you couldn’t have been late. You were standing him up. His heart dropped and tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. You said you wanted to come with him, in fact you said that you would love to join him but maybe it was all an act. You couldn’t tell him no to his face so you let him believe he had a shot with you only to leave him alone and embarrassed. With his head down, George started walking back to the castle when someone rammed into him.

George and the human bludger toppled to the ground, George landing harshly on his rear end. The attacker fell onto him, breaking their fall. Lucky them. With a glare and a flurry of curses ready to spring out, George looked up at the person who sent him crashing to the ground only for his anger to die immediately as he saw you. “George, I’m so sorry. I was so worried you’d leave without me or think I had forgotten you that I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

George blushed and snorted. “Why would you think that?” He smiled and once you got to your feet, he stood up as well. He offered his arm out to you and as you linked arms, he led you to join the crowd of students who had just begun their walk to Hogsmeade. “Why were you running late?” He was curious and maybe you would have brought it up on your own later but he had to know.

“I was reading a letter from my parents. I just received their response about me becoming a healer.” Your face fell for a split second before your smile came back. Part of you hoped George wouldn’t notice but another part of you wanted him to see. As fate would have it, George is very aware of anything concerning you. He saw your brief frown and when you smiled to cover it up, he didn’t see the spark in your eyes. They were not happy.

“They didn’t like it, did they?” He whispered, watching his feet as you walked.

“No, they didn’t. I was going to tell you later so I didn’t bring the mood down.” You pulled your arm away from his; after that rather disappointing topic, linking arms felt too intimate.

George felt the warmth leave his arm and he almost grabbed you, tempted to put it back. “I’m sorry. Let’s go to Honeydukes and get your mind off of it.” While he wanted you to focus on something else for a while, George was going to need the distraction as well. It was very possible your relationship with your parents could have been ruined all because of him. If that was true, he would never forgive himself.

The walk to Honeydukes was far too quiet. You didn’t say much and George wasn’t sure what to say. He already messed up when he asked you about the letter from your parents and he feared anything else would ruin the date completely. The store itself was the exact opposite of your walk with George. It was full of bright and colorful candies and people all talking excitedly about the unlimited sweets they planned to buy. Two men walked in not long after the two of you did and one of them looked shockingly similar to George. He was about the same height and covered in freckles. George would have bet money that he also had brown eyes but they were covered by sunglasses. He was a ginger as well but he had a mustache that looked like it was falling off. His friend also had sunglasses and a mustache but George could have sworn it was upside down. He looked a lot like Lee Jordan. He turned away from them and smiled a little at you. The environment seemed to neutralize the awkwardness between you and George, thankfully.

As you both wandered the aisles, George pointed out some of the candies that he preferred over the others. Of course he would eat just about anything there. “Can I buy you something?” He asked as he stood next to you. You had been looking at your favorite candy when he came up to you. If he was being honest, he shouldn’t buy you candy. Him and Fred were trying to save as much money as they could to try and save up for their products and eventually a store. It also was common knowledge that the Weasley family did not have much spending money so really, George should not have offered. That didn’t stop him though. He wanted to be the perfect date and that meant getting you some candy.

“That’s alright. You don’t have to.” You shook your head, trying to convince him not to buy you anything. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t have money. They were important people in the ministry and you never struggled for money. You could get your own candy and really, you could get George some as well.

“I insist.” Without waiting for you, George gathered a handful of packages and moved on to a different part of the store. After more time, George had his arms full of candy and his heart full of fear that he wouldn’t be able to pay for it all. As you both approached the counter, George set down the snacks and rummaged through his pockets. He counted up the coins and his heart dropped when he saw he was a Sickle short. His face burned bright red as he tried to do some quick mental math to get the total down when you slipped the silver coin into his hand. He only turned a darker shade of red at that. He didn’t want to use your money but he didn’t want to fight with you while the bored man behind the counter stared at him.

With the candy paid for, George gathered it back into his arms and just about sprinted out of the store. He kept walking, leaving you to run after him. He felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. He should have counted his money before they came into the store so he knew just how much he could buy you. He should have only got some for you and none for him. His eyes widened as a thought seemed to smack him right in the face. He wanted to take you for a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks before the day was over but now he would have no money to do so.

“George!” You yelled, grabbing his arm. Lost in thought and self hate, George had begun walking toward the Shrieking Shack and almost moved past the fence blocking it from the public. He skidded to a stop. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for at least five minutes. What’s wrong?”

Did you really not know? How could you not have figured this out on your own? He didn’t answer and instead he turned back to look at the haunted building. What was he supposed to say? I’m mad because I spent all of my money getting you some sweets and now I can’t afford to get you anything else because my family is broke. Not to even mention you had to give me some of your money you no doubt got from your super rich parents.

“I didn’t mean to George. You insisted on buying me the candy.” He said all that out loud didn’t he?

He slowly turned back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, it's just embarrassing to have to use your money.”

You moved to stand next to him, leaning against the fence. “I don’t think you should be embarrassed. Your father gets to spend his days doing what he loves. It’s not great that it doesn’t make him much money but he’s happy. Happiness is what matters most right?”

“Yeah but being happy versus being able to afford books and clothes for your kids is very different.” George loved his parents and he knew they spent a lot of money taking care of them but that didn’t make it hurt any less when he saw Ron wearing ratty old uniforms or Ginny using books that had been used so many times they were hardly holding together. It never got easier to see his friends have everything he wanted. It would never get easier.

You carefully took the candy out of his arms and shoved it into your bag before taking his hand in yours. “I’m sorry your family struggles and I’m sorry it affects you like this but please know, I am more than happy to spend my money on you. You’re right when you said my parents are ‘super rich’. They make more than enough money at the ministry which is why I don’t mind spending some of it, or a lot of it, on you.”

He opened his mouth to argue but the words died in his throat when he saw the pleading look on your face. It was your money and you would spend it how you wanted and he would just have to live with the fact that you want to spend it on him.

“Now, how about you let me spend some of this money on you and treat you to that butterbeer you planned on getting me?”

George laughed and nodded. “Only if you let me get you one next time.”

“Deal.”

---

The two of you laughed loudly at George’s story while you were tucked away into a corner booth. Something about promising that you like to spend money on him made George relax and you were finding out he’s even more fun when relaxed, if that was possible. You crammed yourself into the spot next to him and he had his arm thrown around your shoulders. He was perfect in every way.

“So you guys turned Ron’s teddy bear into a spider and that’s why he’s so scared of them? That’s horrible.” You laughed.

“Only a little. It was our job as older brothers to mess with him, we just didn’t know it would scar him for life. Oh well, it builds character.”

You only rolled your eyes and laid your head on his shoulder, pretending to ignore the way his body stiffened and his breathing stopped as you did. Despite the rocky start to the date, it easily became the best date of your life. George was funny and cute and probably the sweetest guy you ever spent time with. He was the kind of guy that would break his back if it would make you smile. You never wanted the day to end. Of course, it had to and with the warm glow coming in from the windows, it was time to head back to the castle. That didn’t make you move however. You were planning on staying here until the absolute last second.

“George,” you whispered, “thank you for asking me out. I’ve had a really great time.”

“Me too. I should have asked you out years ago.” His heart pounded in his chest as you moved to look at him, your face inching closer to his. He glanced down at your lips hoping he would get to learn if they really were as soft as he imagined. When you were just a centimeter away, a loud crash caused you both to spring apart. Across the way, the two men from before sat; the ginger was clutching onto his mug that had toppled over and now laid on its side, liquid steadily spilling out. Both of them quickly looked away from the two of you.

Moment officially ruined, you separated yourself from him and sighed. “We should probably get back to the castle.”

---

The walk back to the castle couldn’t have been more different than the walk to Hogsmeade. You two were laughing and holding hands and George seemed to have a permanent blush on his face. It was wonderful but the letter from your parents was in the back of your mind. He needed to know what it said but you were so worried it would ruin everything. In the courtyard, you stopped George even though all you wanted was to ignore the letter. “George, there’s something I should tell you.”

He stood in front of you and clung to your hand. You looked so serious and afraid of whatever it was you needed to talk to him about. He was getting scared now. George nodded, not trusting his voice.

“When I told my parents about what you said, that I should chase my happiness and all of that, they were not happy at all. They were disappointed and told me I was throwing away everything we had been working towards since I was born.” You took a deep breath and looked at your feet. “They said you were a bad influence and that I need to stay away from you. You were brainwashing me into thinking I wanted something that I didn’t want.”

Well shit. George told himself that he would never forgive himself if you ruined your relationship with your parents because of him. Let eternal self hatred begin. “I never meant to make them disappointed in you or mess this up for you.” He swallowed thickly as his heart broke. He was sure this was you telling him that whatever you had together needed to end. It would only make sense that it needed to. They were your parents, the people that brought you into the world and raised you and loved you. George was just… George. He was no one to throw away a good relationship with your parents for. There would be other guys that made you happy that your parents would approve of. Someone better and more deserving of you than George. He pulled his hand away from you but he didn’t get far.

Your grip on his hand only tightened as he tried to take it away. “I know you didn’t mean to. I don’t blame you, at all.” You stepped closer to him and put your other hand on his cheek. “You aren’t brainwashing me, you just helped me see that I would never be happy doing what they want me to do. So maybe they’re right and you are a bad influence but I happen to enjoy it.”

George’s eyes widened at your words, his heart mending itself. “I enjoy being your bad influence.”

“Good because I’m not letting you get away from me that fast.” You grabbed his face in your hands and surged forward, planting your lips on his. George didn’t move and for a moment you feared he had a heart attack or stopped breathing but he quickly recovered and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your lips melded together perfectly and you were certain he was the one you were destined to be with.

“Hell yeah Georgie!” A shout from across the courtyard forced George to pull away from you. Standing not far from you two stood the two men he had seen everywhere all day. The redheaded was jumping and cheering while his friend did the worst dance George had ever seen. As the one jumped, his mustache and sunglasses fell to the floor. Fred.

For a short moment, everyone stood frozen before George spoke. “Five…”

“What are you doing?” You questioned.

“Giving them a head start. Four…”

Fred and Lee took off running, glasses and mustaches left behind. George smiled and turned back to you, planting a quick and soft kiss on your lips. “I have to go beat up my brother and best friend but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow and the rest of your life George. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh my, whatever shall I do.”

Tags: @elijahslover

[gristlegrinder]

okay quick 2024 roundup of all of my new gw2 kids. including some people i've never posted about! yeehaw okay let's go

ZOOFAHSHOO

she/they | quaggan | herald

they’ve been an ongoing bit in some of my rps for a while but this is the year that zoof manifested fully in my brain! (zoof? my brain keeps wanting to shorten it to zooey, pronounced like “gooey,” and i have not decided if that’s too silly or if it’s cute). she’s a priory scholar who left their home village of kahloipoi to try and find a way to take care of the risen for good. from there, she becomes the noble pact commander and champion of aurene, taking up arms and leading the charge against the elder dragons. she quietly ignores everybody who demeans her station because of the novelty of what she is, and she bites her tongue whenever she wants to lash out at her enemies with the ferocity she knows she harbors within her.

when they get knocked out of the sky and crash land in cantha, an uninvited guest latches on while everything is dark. it’s an old “friend”— the demon deimos, crawling out of the shadows after being mercilessly slaughtered by her and her squad six years earlier. he’s only a mist reflection of himself, so he insists that he isn’t there to feed on their torment and misery. instead, he’s the worst enabler, finding the quaggan’s reluctance to embrace or even acknowledge all of the nasty impulses festering inside of them— a quaggan’s rage, her envy, her arrogance, her hungers— too fascinating to not spend his afterlife picking at. it’s an odd dynamic that serves as a constant source of uneasy temptation and bickering, but she has to admit that he has his merits, and that maybe he's right about some things.

this, as you can imagine, makes things interesting when she investigates strange camps in kryta and plunges headfirst into a rift, face-to-face with his estranged brother, his sister hissing in their ear, and a war about to start. there are some things that the astral ward doesn't need to know about their new wayfinder. and deimos can complain under his breath all he wants as long as they can keep their act together. i love her a lot.

OUR LADY SERRA

she/her | krytan human | tempest

serra ran away to the circus as a plucky kid with ideas bigger than her parents could manage. growing up with them, she specialized as an acrobat and aerialist, although her innate talent at magic definitely came in handy with more elaborate stunts. her troupe was her family, and her ringmaster ivy was like an older sister to her— she would follow them to the ends of the earth. and that’s what she did, when their ship crashed in the ring of fire on their way home to lion’s arch and they spent years stranded as castaways on the ember bay. afterwards (and perhaps after watching one of her family members get eaten by a giant sloth) she exited the high stakes of the circus business and left all of her grief behind with it, and now works independently as a burlesque performer in smaller venues.

i’m not entirely sure how deep her involvement was in the white mantle. i think it’s fair to say that ivy’s circus was probably funded by caudecus, at least originally, and i have a hard time believing they weren’t somehow involved in the white mantle when they were inexplicably in the heart of maguuma at the same time as the events of heart of thorns and everything going on in the forsaken thicket raid. but they also don’t mention their politics at all, and they seem unaware of the escalating tension back home and the imminent krytan civil war, probably because they would’ve shipwrecked and lost contact before xera was killed. do you ever just completely abandon your cult mission because you got distracted adopting a slubling and turning it into a circus attraction? surely there’s something going on there. she’s not happy about whatever it is. i definitely want to expand on whatever she's got going on next year, which should be fun.

anyways, why are carnival weapons so expensive? send help.

THOR (not pictured) + SIF 

he/him and she/her | norn | unknown + core necromancer

thor isn’t built in the game yet (my character slots…), but sif is! thor is the rhythm guitarist of THE BLOODBATH APOSTATES, a my chemical romance knockoff pop punk outfit that started in lion’s arch in the wake of its destruction. as the oldest of six or seven children, thor’s mother picked everybody up and left their father’s sons of svanir cult in the middle of the night when thor was a young adolescent. he’s got complicated feelings about that, in the way that you do when you know objectively as an adult that your father sucks and was not a good person to people who were not you, but you also can’t help yourself from hating what you lose in the process. he decided to channel that angst into making music with his best friend (a guy he met by getting into a drunken fistfight in a back alley) and the charr cub crashing on his couch. ultimately, thor’s a typical guitarist sleazebag who flirts with their fans a little bit too much and causes too much of a scene in public when he’s had a little bit too much of the good stuff, and arrogantly assumes they’re all the new rock gods of tyria.

sif is his wife, who is kind of miserable with the whole arrangement. she was cooler when they first started dating— a DIY show regular studying necromancy with all of the snarl of leopard, daring and bold despite a lifetime of insecurities. but she put her studies and her life on hold when she became pregnant, and agreed to support their new family if it meant he could carve out a legend for the three of them, and it wouldn’t change a thing. it ultimately wasn’t what she thought it would be, and she bears most of the heavy burden of childcare and managing a homestead (and being a creative consultant, and helping with budgeting and travel logistics) on her own while he tours, pretending she doesn’t know what he smells like when he comes home for a fleeting hour in the middle of the night, or what the gossip rags have been writing about him. she’s busy having an affair or two of her own and thinking about killing him before she runs out of time to get out of this lot. it's a bitter resentment festering.

guild wars 2 is a game about cycles repeating themselves.

IBUKI

they/he/she/it | tengu | profession undecided (probably a virt?)

imagine a world where we get playable tengu and i don’t have to fight with getting screenshots of an NPC with the closest character model. anyways, they’re my other 2024 character in me and saint’s bloodbath apostates project. ibuki is their keyboardist, and they also mess around with synthesizers and a lot of technical audio production.they’re classically trained in a lot of traditional instruments, and they’re figuring out the electronic parts as they go with some help from my thereminist oc they’re sleeping with. ibuki was born and raised into a prestigious family in the dominion of winds (possibly the Great House kalidris talks about), one that i’ve intentionally left vague while begging arenanet for a crumb of information. their life was largely predetermined and held up to intense scrutiny. they were engaged to a lovely respectable girl, they kept a respectable bureaucratic internship as they prepared for a serious career, they ran all of the minutiae of their life through their family for approval. it was a perfectly fine, gilded cage.

and then they were caught breaking the rules and sneaking around where they shouldn’t have. oh, the scandal! the impropriety! they won’t tell anybody what happened, but it involved other people with more power than them, and they were politely given the option to leave the dominion of winds without saying another word, before they caused more trouble than they were worth. exile was better than prison— or ruining the rest of their family’s lives. even though they were terrified of the world outside of those walls when they first crossed the threshold, they wouldn’t go back in a million years. ibuki’s fashioned themself into a rebellious art brat intent on shocking all good society (or a spun-out honors student finally learning about freedom), with a lot of bright-red eyeliner and a lot of nervous energy pacing around in the bathrooms backstage while thor repeatedly tells them to relax a little before it kills them.

MOURNING PEAT (in-game name that nasty bear)

he/him | kodan | harbinger

alright, technically i am still grinding convergences to get the bearkin combat tonic with more options, but this is what he looks like for now. peaty’s a lowland kodan who sincerely believes that rot grows inside of him. when he was a cub, he almost drowned in the bog while sticking his nose in places he shouldn’t have and wandering far too off the path. that’s a secret he’s been carrying with him for years— it, and all of the fossilized remains of white mantle victims that he still sees in his sleep— and it’s sort of bloomed into its own set of internalized neuroses. the bog queen isn’t just a legend; she’s real, and she’s claimed him as one of her own. he’s tainted, he’s rotten. that’s why he still feels her jubilant swarm crawling up his arms if he stands still for too long, and why he feels like such a fraud around all of the other bearkin, pretending he really belongs with them. that’s why he mostly keeps to himself, politely hanging back during celebrations and keeping to his charts until somebody needs a weather prediction. strange, but not bad, he is, they think.

(honestly, alessia couldn’t care less about some flea-ridden bear having a self-destructive fixation on her. she doesn’t even know he exists— having only been spurned awake in recent years due to the titan resurgence. this is all on him.) 

well, peat’s dumped six bodies in that mire so far over the last twenty years. the first was a frantic accident that he covered up. the last two were astral ward mages that he figured nobody would miss. it calms his nerves, and the rest of the details are between him and alessia, as far as he’s concerned, and they’ll die with him someday. i wanted a nasty bear for the bit, and so i made myself a nasty murder bear.

BLOODSTONE BUTCH (BB)

he/him probably | charr | renegade

i feel kind of bad about bb because i haven’t done much with him and he's definitely the least developed character on this list, but i am busy skittering around in the walls of various discord servers. technically he’s another musician oc (yes i have a lot of musician ocs do NOT say anything)— some other friends of mine started a band and so he’s the drummer in the bloodstone fems. bb was an olmakhan who left the village after coming of age to try and find himself, ended up making ends meet in amnoon for a bit while traveling around and experiencing the world, jumped in and out of a couple bands on tour, and eventually met his current group of unhinged freaks that he loves very much.

he’s also a revenant of sorts, having opened his mind up to bloodstone— a habitual indulgence (thanks, fems) that went wrong once, and now leaves him susceptible to the wails and memories of bloodstone ghosts, and other mists phenomena. i’m keeping this open-ended and subject to change, on the off-chance we get some really interesting mursaat lore in future JW updates, but i’m currently stuck between his main revenant echo being the seer doyen, sidony, or perhaps manikaz or one of the other mursaat we’ve gotten recent references to. (i’m leaning sidony because i already have a couple of characters with white mantle stuff going on in their backstories, and i think the seers are a fun enigma to play around with— but it kind of depends on what information we get!). either way, he’s vibing, and trying not to sink too deep in the sorrow that comes with centuries of horrible sacrifices singing in your brain. it’s honestly not that bad. some of us are dealing with deimos's theatrics.

anyways, yeah, i've been surprisingly productive this year LMAO ty for reading all this if you made it to the end <3

[ronearoundblindly]

Eighty-Three Kisses

CEO!Steve Rogers x CEO!Reader

an It Had To Be You tale of tender first aid requested by @anika-ann who thought: I'm not sure why but my heart would MELT upon seeing Steve giving Precious some ⛑ (as such, warning for mentions of blood) WC 1.3k

Not your favorite way to wake up…

Roused in the morning dark of New York winter, Steve’s mom calls him bright and early. She is one of only four people who can evade his Do Not Disturb setting, and as much as you enjoy Sarah, you groan in irritation when Steve has to untuck himself from beneath you in the sheets.

But that’s not where it ends.

He takes the call and walks out to his kitchen. His voice only just becomes inaudible when your mother calls.

Chatty. Mom is chatty way too early this morning, and she wants participation in her gossip.

You get it; your parents are pure balls of excitement about their upcoming trip to NYC to see you and officially meet your boyfriend for the first time, but 6:50 in the morning on a day off is not a great moment to get reciprocation of any amount of energy.

It’s not even five in the morning where your mom is. Come on now.

You hold the phone arm’s length away to scream into your pillow before heaving yourself out of bed. Maybe if she hears Steve’s voice in the background, your mom will think you’re busy and need to get off the call? Maybe standing up will help keep your eyelids raised? You’re so tired, you’ll try anything.

As soon as your butt hits the couch cushion though, your eyes shut again, too comfortable, too quickly. You jump up and meander over to the exercise bike, muttering something about the neighbor Mom’s had this same beef with for a decade, but she’s on a roll now. You barely need to interject an “uh-huh” or “yeah.” Your mother just keeps going.

So you sit on the bike, lazily putting one foot on the higher pedal, and you nudge it. Nothing happens.

Steve rustles the coffee beans into the maker and pulls down plates because if he’s awake, he wants breakfast. He’ll go back to sleep if he can, but if he’s conscious, food should happen. That’s the Steve Standard of a morning ritual. He also has very little input for his conversation, mostly humming every so often.

You hear the crack of eggs against the bowl’s rim and yawn, hiding that sound as best you can from your mother.

Your dad is equally grumbly in the background. He chides his wife with you in solidarity.

The pan sizzling acts as white noise countered by the first whiffs of brewing coffee.

“Of course, I’m listening,” you rush out, leaning forward on the handlebars and mock-bashing your head.

Steve must have turned to watch you because you hear his deep chuckle from across the room.

Absently, you step onto the pedal, thinking it will start rotating as you press down. You don’t realize how high Steve has turned up the resistance until it’s too late. You stand with your full weight on the tiny, shifting pad, and your foot slips right off when the mechanism caves.

Off-balance and crash-landing on your foot, your ankle tweaks out harshly, and the hard plastic grooves for friction scrape all along your bare calf. It hurts like hell but happens so fast that you hardly make a sound aside from hissing.

The phone drops out of your hand as you untangle yourself from the bike and trip down to the floor.

“Honey?” Steve clearly hasn’t seen until “shit” and you hear the pan torn off the burner and his own phone tossed to the counter. “Precious, you okay? What—“

Thin gashes are already red and bleeding all up your leg. The pain is such a tense sting that you can’t manage much else other than biting your tongue and clutching at the wound, but Steve peels your fingers away, ripping the kitchen towel from over his shoulder to apply pressure.

“It’s fine,” you still hiss. “I’m fine, Steve.”

His huge palm and fingers splay across the fabric, his other hand guiding your over to replace them after he coos, “I know. I’m just gonna clean it up. I’ll be right back. Can you hold this? Just there. Good girl. Ok.”

He jumps up and thunders to the bathroom.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on? Hello?”

You look up to where your phone dangles in the water bottle holder by the bike’s handles, but you can’t reach it without harsh sensations shooting around your foot and leg.

“I’m fine, Mom,” you yell toward the phone. “I just fell. I’ll call you back later.”

There’s an incoherent fuss, your dad’s voice joins what sounds like muttering but is more likely a heated argument on the other end, and then the screen lights when the call disconnects.

Steve returns with a little box and a white bottle.

“Ok, precious--" he leans to kiss your knee "--you ready? This part is gonna hurt.”

You pull back the stained towel, lip lodged between your teeth, and Steve soaks a cotton ball. He bares his teeth when you react to the bite of alcohol.

The excess drips down to the mat.

“I know, honey. You’re doing so good though. Just a little more." He tries to move the foot. "Can you—“

“OW!” Like a shot, your ankle cries all the way up to your hip. “Sorry,” you say through threatening tears, “I landed on it wrong.”

Steve’s hand cradles the joint, keeping it still even as he lowers to kiss there, too, his blue eyes worried. “Okay, I’ll get ice for that, but first, we cover this.” He wipes gently at the deepest gash by your Achilles tendon before ripping open a packet of antibacterial ointment. “Just another minute, alright? You’re doing great.”

His rough morning voice and soothing tenor nudge your heart rate back in the right direction.

At least the medication doesn’t hurt. Between treatment and bandaging, he lifts your wrist to his lips and plants a double tap of encouragement.

"So good," he rumbles.

Steve carefully unfolds and layers some gauze across the whole area and carefully tapes the edges. On instinct, you bend your knee to get yourself up, but the tape pops right off when you flex.

“Uh-uh, precious. You’re not doing anything until we get some ice on that.”

You think he means to leave you sitting on the ground, but Steve pivots to a squatting position, tucks his arms beneath your knees and around your waist, and lifts you straight into the air, kissing your cheek for good measure.

Well…all that gym equipment’s been good for something…

He carries you all the way back to the bed, kissing your forehead to force you to relax backward and excusing himself to the kitchen again. A few drawers open and shut. There’s a racket of ice clattering into a bag.

Another light scuttering noise.

“Ma, I gotta go. Yeah, I love ya. Okay, bye.” He rounds the doorway again, compress and coffee at the ready.

Steve wraps a fresh towel over your skin before arranging the ice to lay just right, covering as much curve as possible without too much pressure. By the time he’s satisfied, he’s created a majestic-looking nest of sheets and blanket around your foot.

You chuckle as you blow across the hot liquid in your toasty mug.

This is his near-military precision and focus again, except this time, you are the mission.

Finally, his equally warm gaze meets yours, dawn breaking outside the wall of windows surrounding the corner room.

“Want your phone back?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “They can wait.”

Everything still aches, the dull throb seeming miles away when Steve grips your thigh before straightening.

“You know, precious, if you wanted breakfast in bed, you could have just asked.”

You shrug, a little embarrassed but very appreciative. This certainly hasn’t been your favorite way to wake up, but it’s not the worst either. Plus, the morning has just begun.

“Sometimes the only thing that gets your attention is a crisis, Captain.”

from this game of "Comfort My Characters"

Thank you for asking!

@bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @rach2602 @patzammit @royalwritersoftheuniverses @supraveng @1950schick @yiiiikesmish

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 9.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Making Out, Pet Names, Praise, Jeongguk Has A Tongue Ring, Daddy Kink, Cunnilingus, Big Dick!Jeongguk, Begging, Unprotected Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Cream Pie

By the time you got home from the long night of social interactions with people who count money like sheep, it was just simply too dark to drive further from your mansion to take Jeongguk back home to his apartment.

It's not that you couldn't drive but then the rainstorm began and it wouldn't be safe with the slippery roads.

So now as it strikes one in the morning Jeon Jeongguk is paralyzed with fear to even be in your mansion at such a late hour.

"So where am I even supposed to sleep?" he inquires softly.

He sounds almost like a lost, scared child looking for his parents.

And you would feel bad for him if it wasn't hilarious and he wasn't almost thirty years old.

"Well none of the guest rooms have furniture so either on the couch that's harder than a rock or in my bed. Your choice, really," you reply, pulling your gloves slowly off your arms.

He opens his mouth to respond before tilting his head to look at the artistic couch down below the banister of the second floor, his eyebrows notch and he groans long and low at the prospect.

"I can't sleep in your bed! I'd be violating your privacy!" he guffaws, shaking his head sternly as if to wipe away any bad thoughts.

"Guk, the bed is from wall to wall. You don't have to sleep on top of me. You'll fall asleep and won't even remember a thing," you promise, unzipping the back of your dress and stepping into your closet.

"But…But… Why don't you have any furniture in your rooms anyway?!"

He sounds nervous and anxious, a sign that just screams to you that he might actually enjoy it if he just allows himself to.

When his eyes rake over the smooth skin of your back, the wildest of thoughts flit through his brain and he really loses all sense of self then.

"Because I don't want people staying over… duh," you chirp, stripping out of your dress.

"But I'm an exception?! You have no backbone!" Jeongguk scoffs, folding his arms childishly.

When he notices that he can catch the reflection of you getting naked in one of the glass doors that house your couture gowns, he wrestles with himself for a moment before turning to face the large fish tank at the end of the long hall.

"You sound embarrassed," you tease, grabbing your nightgown.

When you slip it over your head, your eye catches your shortest nightgown and you freeze.

You haven't had fun in a long time, probably longer than what most doctors would consider to be normal. So maybe tonight, just tonight, you'll have some fun.

"I'm not embarrassed! I could sleep next to you just fine! I just-just… It's not right! It'd be taking advantage!"

"It's not taking advantage," you counter, stepping outside of your closet, "and if you feel that way then you could sleep on the floor."

"I'm not gonna sleep on the floor! It's marbl-"

Jeongguk stops mid-sentence to choke on his own spit as you step in front of him. Your nightgown is incredibly short, the rich lace hem landing right below the curve of your ass. As for your breasts, well, he's lucky your nipples are covered.

With his eyes widening to the size of saucers, he opts to staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you're a baby," you tease, heading off towards your bedroom.

With every step you take, his eyes seem to become grounded more and more until they're watching your hips sway with criminal intent towards the room that has brought this panic on to begin with.

"Change," he begs, his voice sounding weak.

If his body did what it wanted without the help of his brain, he'd be crashing to his knees and crawling toward you begging to let him have any inch of you that you'd offer him.

"No, you're a baby," you giggle, entering your room.

"But-"

"Guk, it's just sleep. It's almost two in the morning. I'm exhausted. You can either sleep with me or on the floor, it's up to you but I'm laying down now."

The handsome escort makes his second fatal mistake by watching you crawl into bed. Your breasts sway and you look at him with these doe-like eyes that make his legs go weak.

Luckily, he's holding himself upright as he leans against the doorjamb.

"I'm not staring at you all night as you loom over me in the distance like some kind of fever dream monster or something," you sigh, laying down on your side and putting your arm beneath your pillow for comfort.

"God!" the handsome man complains, walking over to the bed beside you.

He begins to strip off his clothes, revealing more and more of his golden toned skin that sings with black and grey ink.

He's staring at you hoping you don't stare at him but you do. Your eyes are becoming less and less dead by the second, every time a new ab is revealed your head is even lifting up off of the pillow.

"I thought you were tired?" Guk chuckles.

Now it's your turn to get defensive.

"I am! I'm not looking at you!" you retort, turning away from him with pinched eyebrows.

Now he's got his confidence back.

When you're flustered it's easier for him to play around, he's not used to being flustered himself.

"Come on, baby," he purrs playfully, crawling into bed behind you and pressing his bare chest to your back, "kiss me."

"God! Go sleep on the floor!" you hiss, squeezing your eyes shut and shimmying down the bed away from him.

His chuckle is deep and delighted, almost carefree to the point of dangerousness.

"That…" he begins, wrapping his arm around your stomach and pressing his lips to your ear, "would be uncomfortable. You were right, it's just sleep. I can stay the night in bed with you."

His cologne is still pleasant and it tickles your senses to have him so close.

Guk's arm is warm and comforting around you, not so much claustrophobic as you would have assumed.

The air is turning into something tumultuous, something powerful and Earth shatteringly dangerous.

You're getting turned on.

You can feel every inch of his hard muscled chest and stomach digging into your scantily clad back and the escort is doing nothing to stop it.

"I'm not paying you for this," you remind him, grabbing a pillow and squeezing it to your front for comfort.

"You're not paying me at all, Y/N," he counters, closing his eyes, "If you want me to stop, just say so. I respect that no means no."

But you don't utter a word.

Jeongguk shifts closer, allowing you to feel the effect you have on him.

The globes of your ass are supple against his hips and you can feel his erection digging into you for relief.

Your lips open in surprise but you only squeeze your eyes tighter.

"You don't fuck clients," you whisper, gripping the pillow against your chest harder.

"No," he agrees, drifting his lips over the shell of your ear slowly, "you're not paying me, you're not my client, baby."

Jeongguk fucking wants this. He's throwing caution to the wind, he might be making a hell of a mistake but he'll take that on the chin too.

He knows you both have a connection, he knows he's into you and he thinks you're pretty into him too.

"Do you not want me to touch you, Wednesday?" he asks seriously, sitting up on his elbow.

"No," you answer immediately.

"Okay," he breathes, pulling away from you.

You shimmy your way farther across the bed before the encroaching loneliness begins to eat at you again.

When Guk is around you, you don't have time to feel it.

So all you do is pout.

You're confused! You don't know what to do! You want to be happy and live in lalaland but can you really indulge in that?!

"Yes," you say in the silent bedroom.

The escort is on you in a matter of moments, pressing his full lips to yours in a searingly hot kiss.

Your hands tangle into his black locks and you tug softly. He hums against you greedily, the sound sending tingles through your limbs at a satisfying pace.

"C'mere, c'mere," he hisses, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up into his lap.

He feels like a drug addict, he's strung out on you and he needs more to function

Your legs wrap around his waist and when you whimper against his lips, his eyes roll back.

"Is this expensive?" he inquires, wrapping his fingers in the spaghetti straps of your nightgown.

"Yes," you answer, pulling away from him.

"Oh, good," he breathes, tugging roughly and feeling the fabric turn to strings before him.

He lays you down softly, watching how your hair billows out around you in tendrils on your pillow. Guk stays nestled between your thighs, running a free hand over your skin.

"You're so smooth and soft," he groans, pulling the useless fabric away from your body to see all of you.

At this moment, you want to cover up and hide. You want to push him off and just curl into the fetal position.

He can see that. He can see the sudden fright in his eyes and his heart hurts at the sight.

"I'm right here, just focus on me," he whispers, pulling at your hands until he lays them flat against his chest.

Your nails dig into his skin softly and the hiss he gives, the way his hips rut to yours on instinct has you distracted all over again.

Finally, he lets his eyes travel down your body.

"God, you're perfect," he mumbles, cupping your breasts.

"Guk, I-I don't know. I'm not… I don't…" you whisper, looking up at him.

When his mocha irises meet yours, they soften. "We can stop, do you want to stop, baby?"

He goes to retract his hands but the prospect of not having him might eat you alive more than if you do.

"I don't know," you answer honestly.

"That's not an answer," he chuckles, leaning down and kissing you softly.

His tongue fights for dominance with yours and it wins so easily that you can feel the ice cold walls around your heart melt within seconds.

You don't want to stop.

But you're scared.

So you're truthful with him and you voice it.

"I'm not going anywhere, Wednesday. I'm not Jasper. I'm here with you, I'm not leaving," he promises.

He's so confident and so heartfelt with his words that you just let yourself be.

You don't want to be this person anymore.

You aren't this person with Jeongguk and you really like that.

He makes you forget heartache and pain, he makes you forget anger and emptiness.

"Do you want this?" he asks, brushing some stray hairs from your face.

"Yes," you nod, giving a shaky breath.

His smile is wide and beaming and he caresses your cheek with the softest touch.

"Good girl," he praises softly, going back to his earlier route.

The praise has your mind spinning, like you're on some kind of serotonin drug.

His hands cup your breasts and he can only compliment them as his lips trail down your neck. "You've got a gorgeous body, Wednesday."

His thumbs flick at your hardening nipples and your back arches with a whimper that sounds so odd tumbling from your lips.

"That's it, gorgeous," Guk hisses, wrapping his perfect lips around your pert nipple.

He hasn't touched a woman in ages either,  he himself hasn't been touched in what feels like years.

The escort wants this so badly, he can't even remind himself to pace himself, he just needs you, he just wants you so badly that it feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

"Say my name," he whispers, moving to your unattended breast and flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

The action sends shivers up your spine and you cry out softly for more.

"Jeongguk!"

His eyes flutter closed at the sincerity of the word and he's all but ready to just give his whole self to you.

He could fall in love with you right now if he's not careful.

One hand continues to play with your breast, pinching and plucking at you until you're short of breath while the other rips your satin underwear away from your core with ease.

"Oh my God," you gasp, putting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut.

The escort kisses down your stomach until his arms are wrapping around your thighs to cage you into a device of his making.

He licks his lips, ogling how much arousal has made you a sodden mess before him and he wants to scream to Heavens to thank them for this opportunity.

"You okay?" Guk inquires sweetly, kissing from your knee to your inner thigh.

"Y-Yeah," you breathe, lifting up on your elbows.

"Good," he hisses, licking a flat stripe up your folding.

Your hands grip at the sheets, mouth dropping open at how warm and wet his mouth is.

"Tongue ring or no tongue ring?" he asks, letting his tongue hang past his lips.

"J-... I-... What?!" you whine, bunching your hands up in his hair.

His smirk is devilish and he chuckles deeply. "Tongue ring it is."

He begins to devour you, suckling and licking at your slit like a man possessed and you crash back down to the bed with moans ripping from your throat.

"Oh fuck! Guk!" you cry out, tugging roughly in his hair.

"Call me daddy," he murmurs, wrapping his lips around your swollen nub.

You're so blissed out that you can't even process his words but you still do as told. "Daddy! Oh my God!"

"Good girl," Guk breathes, inching two fingers towards your entrance.

Your lungs heave with heavy breaths and you watch with rapid fascination as he inches his fingers inside of you.

"You're fucking tight," Jeongguk groans heartily, attaching his lips back to your clit.

He fucks his fingers into you quickly, subsiding the burn of the stretch immediately.

Your legs tingle with pleasure and your toes curl, your mind is jumbled up and all you can feel is this deep ache within your stomach getting bigger and bigger.

When you had sex before, Jasper never looked up at you. He never even went down on you usually but Jeongguk is so present with you.

He stares up at you like he wants to see your pleasure, he wants to treasure this moment. He adores how you writhe and moan for him, he wants you to give everything over to him.

There's adoration in his eyes and you've never seen that before so it pushes you towards the precipice even faster.

He fucks his fingers into you dilligently, groaning at your taste and how loud your moans are that echo off the mansion walls.

"Give it to me, baby," he seethes through his teeth, "I can feel your pussy begging for it."

The handsome man between your legs curls his fingers quickly to the soft patch of muscles inside of you and you yelp softly at the overwhelming feeling.

It's like he already knows how to coax what he wants from you.

"Cum for me and I'll give you my cock," he promises.

It's strange how even in the throes of pleasure you can still find the sassiness you've become so used to peeking out of you. "Wh-Who said I want it?"

Guk chuckles against you, the ragged, hot breath making your back bow. "This pretty pussy says, now cum for me."

He curls his fingers faster until the ache in your stomach bursts and your thighs lock around his shoulders.

Your orgasm is filled with loud moans and white eyelids, your body quivers and racks and Jeongguk sits up to watch it all.

Fuck, you're gorgeous.

Why don't you understand this?

How is he going to make you understand?

Pulling his cock out of his briefs, he strokes it leisurely, waiting for you to come back down to Earth with him.

When your ears stop ringing, you blink once or twice only to be met with the beautiful sight before you.

His cock is long, longer than you expected and so thick that it makes your breath catch. The mushroom tip is red with need and the precum that weeps from his slit is so enticing that your legs open up for him without a second thought.

"Do you want to?" he inquires, leaning down to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and passionate, and he lets go of his cock to hold your face between his hands.

You nod against his lips and he can only smirk.

"Fuck me," you beg, dragging your fingers over his arms.

"Yes ma'am," he whispers, leaning up on his elbow.

You don't know this but he's not going to fuck you. He's going to make love to you but he won't tell you that because it would probably scare the hell out of you.

He positions himself at your entrance, staring deeply into your eyes.

This feels almost too emotional for you but you can't seem to tear your eyes away from his for even a second.

Guk enters you slowly, groaning at the tightness before kissing you languidly to distract you from the stretch.

"Oh my God!" you groan against his lips.

"I'm sorry, is it too big?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"No!" you hiss, letting your eyes flutter shut.

"Oh, no? It's not the biggest cock you've taken in this tight little pussy?" he teases, pulling out and thrusting roughly into you.

Your moan is so loud it could constitute for a scream and you grab for anything to steady yourself.

He gives you his hands, intertwining them and holding them over your head.

"You're so beautiful, Wednesday," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Daddy!" you whine, squeezing his hands.

"I got you, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I promise," Jeongguk avows, thrusting into you harder.

His promise is heartfelt and sincere and that radiates deep inside of you.

Every thrust has meaning and an intention to solidify that.

"God, this pussy feels so fucking good. You're so fucking wet!"

"All for you," you breathe.

You're sincere too.

And he knows it.

"Fuck," he curses, picking up the pace.

Your breasts jiggle with his movements and your mind is muddling again all on its own.

He lets one hand go to slide it down your stomach until it nestles against your throbbing bud and he rubs smooth, fast circles.

"Daddy! Fuck! Yes!"

"Yeah? You like that? You want more, baby? You want to cum for me again?"

You nod incessantly, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Then cum," he coos softly, burying his face in your neck.

Your perfume wraps him in this loving shroud where nothing could ever bother him. You keep him peaceful in this moment.

"I feel it, baby, give it to me. Your pussy is milking my cock so nicely," he groans muffled into your skin.

"G-Guk!" you cry out, squeezing his one hand tighter.

The way you call his name, the anxiousness behind it has him lifting his head.

"I'm right here, Y/N," he whispers, kissing you and coaxing the orgasm from you peacefully.

You whine loudly against his lips, letting go of everything.

The escort groans loudly at how your pussy clenches around him, practically begging him for his seed so he can only comply.

"Oh fuck! I'm cumming! I'm cumming, baby girl!"

His thrusts become shorter and harder until he spills his seed inside of you with shaky breath.

"Baby," he moans loudly, wrapping his arms around you.

Both of your hearts are beating so fast that it feels like they might just give up out of nowhere without warning.

He pulls out of you slowly, laying down by your side and he doesn't even give you a chance to pull away. He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair as he closes his eyes.

There's comfortable silence for a while, it's so comfortable that you haven't even had a chance to begin to worry yet.

"I want you to meet my dog," he mumbles sleepily, kissing your shoulder.

"Your dog?" you inquire with a tired giggle.

"He's the only other one that means more to me in this universe than anything."

"The only other one?" you breathe curiously.

He smirks tiredly, closing his eyes.

"Yeah. You heard me, Wednesday."

<----- Last Chapter            Next Chapter ----->

[waitmyturtles]

Alright. I’m all caught up on The Eighth Sense. WHOA. Whoa. WHOA. Good. Lord. 

First off, before all the theories: this is obviously a really fantastic show, by way of the soundtrack; the use of silence; the cinematography and very varied filming styles; the use of LIGHT and lighting; the film editing and smart, sharp editing cuts (more on this in a sec), and the utterly, UTTERLY amazing acting. CHOPS, we are seeing CHOPS in a show that’s just reducing the usual K-drama tropes to DUST. WOW, KOREA. KOREA SHOWED THE HELLLLLLL UP for this one. This is like zeitgeist-level stuff.

And, oh my god. The kissing scene in the waves. The scene in bed. My heart was taken away. The last scenes, the storm coming in, the waves getting higher and higher, Jae Won yelling Ji Hyun’s name. WHOA.

I know from what I’ve reblogged so far that these points are all being discussed, and I have yet to really dig into the tag because I need to process all of this out in writing first, so I’ll do tag and conversation-digging over the rest of today and tomorrow and re-group with the fam. But working in part from my last post after episode 5, I’ll offer a couple thoughts and theories now, because I just need to get them down, whoa. 

I want to set some macro context for myself first, to kind of do a journey map on my understanding of Jae Won. From the start, his friends talk about how Jae Won’s dad is a big shot. Jae Won’s life is supposedly set: if you know about chaebol, you’ll know how controversial it is in Korea (many, MANY K-dramas feature chaebol, including Crash Landing On You and the much more recent Why Her?). It’s controversial because, of course, you always wonder if the "right” people are taking over a business, not by way of merit or talent, but only by way of inheritance (peep the “nutgate” incident with Korean Air as an example) (it’s INSANE) (chaebol is INSANE).

So Jae Won’s friends are, in my view, seething with jealousy that Jae Won has his life set. His dad is prepping Jae Won to take over. Jae Won is rich, good-looking, smart, and the ladies love him. 

That’s a lot of pressure for Jae Won. Putting together that his younger brother died, and he’s seeing a therapist, and that it was his parents that had originally sent him to therapy, and it’s indicated that he’s drug-dependent: I do believe, as many of the fam does, that what we’re watching in many of these scenes are dissociations and/or hallucinations. I do believe that, particularly by way of how the show is edited, with REALLY sharp cuts, scenes ending awkwardly and jumpily, scenes filmed in really fuzzy and weirdly lit ways, and threading pieces of scenes together in inconsistently-told ways. The hand-holding scene on the outdoor steps earlier in the series, and how it’s changed by a quick edit when the guys are shown NOT holding hands while walking on the sidewalk right after. I feel like the editing of the show serves as a correction for the jumps happening in Jae Won’s mind and memory.

I offered a theory in my last post that Jae Won might not have gone to the military at all while he was out of school -- that he was instead institutionalized. I set that theory in part on his therapist referencing a previous hospital stint, and on something he said in episode 4: “I just came back from the army. My sense is not on point.” When I first heard him say that, it didn’t smell right to me, as I thought that acclimating back to society after the military was more common for Korean men as almost all Korean men have to get drafted. But I’ve changed my mind somewhat after convos with the wonderful @emotionallychargedtowel and @stl29tide in the comments of that post, with ECT mentioning in part that it’s very common for returning soldiers to experience difficulties while re-acclimating back to society.

So I’m now caught between two theories here, and I wonder if either can be applicable.

Theory 1) I do still think it’s plausible that Jae Won didn’t go to the military while he was away from school -- I think it’s plausible that he could have been institutionalized, but I’m less sure about that now, after the convos with ECT and S2T (thank you BOTH for your insights!). 

Theory 2) Jae Won DID indeed go to the military, but his difficulties re-acclimating -- VERY MUCH ALONG with his other present issues -- have contributed to a serious dissociation episode in episode 6. This is likely more plausible.

Both theories are linked by yet another opinion. I believe that when Jae Won woke up after his bender in episode 5, he dissociated after his dad began knocking on his door and yelling. I’m not sure if the camera breaking was in the dissociation or in reality, but I believe the entire beach trip in episode 6 was part of the dissociation triggered by Jae Won’s dad and the pressures that Jae Won’s dad represents. I believe the utterly gorgeous filming style, the lighting, the weird jump to sleeping inside on a bed from the beach, the inconsistent scenes from morning on the beach, to surfing, to sex, to surfing again, to possible drowning -- I believe all of that is meant to be representative of dissociation.

Whew. Okay. Another theory. I do believe that Jae Won’s dad/family sent Jae Won to therapy in high school, possibly after his little brother’s death. I also still believe, as I posited in my last post, that Jae Won’s therapy could be a form of conversion therapy. Why do I think this?

(I just want to say that I keep repeating “I believe” because, y’all -- I totally think this entire series could be one big dissociation. Fight Club-like. So I’m trying to grasp at what I think is real-ish by indicating those factors as such.)

I can’t find it.... damn it, I can’t find it, but someone posted about the bed scene, and how Ji Hyun seemed more comfortable than Jae Won in bed. How Ji Hyun actually seemed/seems more comfortable in his queerness than Jae Won. (If anyone can link me to that post, I would be forever grateful!)

That REALLY got me thinking. I thought that was SO SMART, and I rewatched the scene to confirm that I agree there, which I do. 

Another piece of evidence to this theory, as I mentioned in the comments of that last post, is when the therapist says in episode 5: as Jae Won talks about Ji Hyun (or....at least....we *think* he’s talking about Ji Hyun), the therapist says “I hope you can build a good relationship without crossing the line.”

Now. BEFORE episode 6, where Jae Won talked about his little brother, I wondered why Jae Won was in therapy. It was STATED that he was there because of high school pressures. But the ways in which that therapist has been presented have been so weird. Like in episode 1 -- in only the SECOND scene of the entire series -- we see the therapist joking around, saying “For God’s sake, just tell me what your worries are!” and then giggling. I mean -- um, maybe they have a good rapport, but that’s definitely not how *I* learned how a therapist should act in grad school, ha. (I’d LOVE @emotionallychargedtowel‘s thoughts on the therapist’s bedside manner if you’re up to it -- no pressure at all.)

After putting together the chaebol deal with Jae Won’s dad, and that his family sent him to therapy in high school, and that the therapist talked about him being in a hospital in episode 5, AND that line about “[not] crossing a line” -- all of this screams to me of Jae Won’s family trying to “set him straight,” if you will. I seriously wonder.... if Jae Won became drug dependent vis à vis his therapist because his family needs him to be “normal” to take over the family business. I wonder if Jae Won, with EVERYTHING he might be holding -- from his queerness, to potential guilt related to his little brother, to the PRESSURES of being the family heir -- was either PUSHED to be drug dependent to fall in line, or has fallen into addiction as a result of those pressures.

I... would not put either of these theories past a domineering chaebol family.

Finally. After re-watching the very first scene of the series, and the very last scene of episode 6, and seeing how they’re the same, it all seriously makes me wonder if everything that we’ve seen so far is one big dream sequence. 

IN OTHER WORDS, Y’ALL. HOLY SHIT. Anything and everything is possible in this absolute MASTERPIECE of a show.

Other quick notes before I stop:

1) I stan Joon Pyo and Ae Ri -- MVPs. They care for our boy! (....if Ji Hyun even exists.)

2) Jung Seo In, who plays Ji Hyun’s boss, was also in Where Your Eyes Linger (I knew I recognized her!).

3) I’ve seen so many posts referencing the AMAZZZZINNNGGG music of this show, placed and edited SO WELL, and I just want to say that I am loving all the analyses.

Okay, phew, that’s all I got. I’m on the train with y’all for the rest of this ride. 

(@lurkingshan, tag tag!)

[noneknxws]

more good dead I mean dead I mean dad jack drake :))

Bart is a little concerned.

That’s actually the understatement of the year. Bart is a lot concerned. Extremely. Colossally. Humongously. That may not be a word, but he’s going to use it because it’s true, and it’s true because Tim is breaking down in Kon’s arms right now.

It’s kinda scary— Bart doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tim crash this hard. Tim’s usually the one who lands safely, even if he’s patched together with Gorilla Glue. It’s like watching your parent cry, and Bart is not a fan because he might start crying too.

Tim didn’t even say anything when he walked into the Tower. His hands were shaking when he grabbed one of the files he left on the table, and Kon- who had been chilling in the living room while Bart rambled about binary code- had caught the mug of pens Tim almost knocked over. Then Bart asked if he was okay, and Tim sort of just.. broke.

They were in Kon’s room now, and Tim was clinging onto his boyfriend like he was a lifeline. Bart sat on the floor, leaning against the bed and Kon’s leg.

“I’m sorry,” Tim whisper-repeats like a mantra in-between sniffles. Kon only hugs him tighter, and Bart scrambles onto the bed to offer his own hand.

Tim’s hand is freezing cold, per usual, and Bart almost wants to shiver. Every time Bart grabs Tim’s hand, it’s like he took a skinny dip in the arctic. It’s really nice in the summer though, and- yeah. He should focus on the crying bundle of Tim he has next to him.

Eventually the quiet hitched breaths recedes, and the death grip Tim has on Bart’s hand loosens, and Bart knocks his shoulder with Tim’s lightly.

“I just-“ Tim takes a shuddering breath. “I just miss my dad.”

“Dude,” Bart says softly, leaning his head against Tim’s shoulder. “That’s a really valid reason for crying. I wouldn’t judge if you dropped your icecream or something because that’s also a valid reason, but y’know.”

Tim actually laughs wetly at that, and Kon snorts. An absolute win, in his books.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Amor Fati--Chapter 1: Rattlesnakes

Paul and Maelyn have been trying to keep their relationship under wraps, but it all comes out. Caveat: Neither is their imprint. How long can smooth sailing go on?

Paul Lahote x Black!Fem!OC.

CW: Series deals with the death of a parent, and will have smut scenes. 18+ please!

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

She knows when to butt out--Maelyn swears she does. But the longer she leans into the kitchen island, listening to Jacob’s never ending rant, the more she watches for her opening. It’s not really her business. But as one of the only two girls to phase in the pack, and considering that she was even in the pack, Jacob’s incessant monologue was her business. Or least, Maelyn made it her business. Because it’s about Bella. Like it always is. If not for Sam’s gag order, which Jacob found a loophole around, it’s now for the fragile reality he’d been living in threatening to crash and burn.  

Things were a lot easier when the pack didn’t know what the fucking vampires were after. Not easy for them as the protectors of the land, and therefore by extension the people on the land, but easier in a day to day ordeal. Easier in terms of at least then it seemed like Jacob was really only complaining about losing a friend. Easier in terms of at least when Maelyn did tune in for the latest episode in Jacob’s soap opera the stakes didn’t feel so grave. 

“And you’re being way too quiet,” Jake states, slowing to a stop, from his rapid pacing, in front of Maelyn. “I hate it when you go quiet on me. It means you’re thinking. And if you’re thinking, it means it’s going to hurt my feelings.”

“I plead the fifth your honor,” Maelyn returns, teeth snapping the skin of the red delicious apple from the fridge. A bit of the juice dribbles down the corner of her mouth and she chases it down with the pad of the thumb. 

“You are one of my best friends, so your opinion is useful. Just…be nice,” Jake warns. 

Jacob phased right after Maelyn did. Hers sparked by the incessant messages on her phone from her father when she was twenty minutes late getting home one evening. She promised to call when running late and she did. But her dad hadn’t answered, and he hadn’t bothered to check the voicemail she left on the house phone either. The only reason she had a cellphone in the first place was because of her father’s own paranoia. Not that she needed a curfew at eighteen, nor did she want one. But she was trying to placate her father’s anxieties. The phasing and subsequent discovery of her mother’s lineage being the root cause for such ability only seemed now to be gas on the fire. Nevertheless, Maelyn had practice in keeping her cool, most of the time that is. Jacob’s…much too inexperienced. To him, things had always been easy, and fun. And he was easy and fun, before he phased. Now, the boy sported frowns like he was attempting to earn gold medals. 

Maelyn and Jacob grew close over the milkshakes she’d sneak him when working shifts at the diner when he and his sisters would visit. Not that Shannon didn’t know what was going on of course. But still, the secret was nice to have, regardless of how secretive it actually was. Eventually, Jake started to frequent without his sisters and the pair would chat about their days between Maelyn’s fluttered steps to refill coffee mugs, take orders, and serve said orders. It was a ritual that forged their current ability to shoot straight with each other. 

“What did your mother tell me? If I couldn’t say it nicely, not to say it at all,” Maelyn returns after swallowing down the last of her thoroughly chewed apple bite. 

“Well, now I’m telling you to tell it to me straight.”

“Being nice and telling it to you straight are two different things from me,” she offers. Jake’s persistence doesn’t annoy her. In fact, she’s used to it. He’s always been a bit of an optimist. He should just listen to her for his own sake at this current juncture.

“Lyn, you say this like I don’t know this. Ignore everything else. Just--what’s your two cents, okay? What do you think?” Jake asks. He’s got a few inches on Maelyn. Not that her six foot stature would feel like something to make her short, but with all the rest of the boys hitting 6’2’’ and up, it does leave Maelyn as the odd man out--aside from Leah and Seth. But Seth was still young and would still grow. He is already edging out over Leah and Lyn as it is, it wouldn’t be too much longer before he’d have to start looking down. 

And yet, none of Jake’s height matters as he rolls into himself. He’s exhausted. Like they all are. They’ve been on patrols for months, though Lyn had graduated early, she’s still feeling the brunt of all the excess caution. She, Paul, and Sam were taking on extra responsibilities to help the others get used to the change. Jared did what he could to help balance it out too. But there’s no denying how much sacrifice is going into their efforts. And he just looks so small, it’s killing Maelyn. If she says what she’s really thinking, it won’t end well. Not when he’s already worried and anxious.

“Lyn, please,” Jake begs. 

She sighs. He’s the only one that gets to use the nickname. And she means the only one. Not even Paul uses it. “You don’t want to know,” she states again and punctuates the sentence with yet another bite to her apple. Maelyn grows lesser and lesser a fan of Bella. Sure, Bella hadn’t meant to cause a vampire to fall in love with her. And truly, if Edward had kept his wits about him there might’ve been more caution about the attacks happening in town. Edward’s gone right now--so displaced rage seems like the only fitting answer. 

From behind Jacob, Paul’s head rounds the open edge of the wall that blocks the dining area off from the living room. His gaze is assessing, one brow arched in question. Maelyn knows what it means--if he needs to intervene. But he shouldn’t. If he does, it undermines all their previous efforts to keep their relationship quiet worthless. But she can’t respond, not verbally, so all she does is stare back and breathe. And she hopes it’s enough to keep Paul at bay. 

“Damn it, Lyn! Just tell me.”

There’s an edge to Jacob’s voice, a frustration that bleeds into anger. His arms shake. Not a full tremor, just a light quake. 

“I don’t know who in the room you’re yelling at, but it better not be me.” Her own face grows hot, chest expanding wide to take in the deep breath to stay calm. 

“What is your fucking problem, huh? You’re acting real high and mighty. I just want my best friend’s fucking opinion,” Jake snarls. 

“She’s no good for you,” Maelyn barks. The words are effortless, dancing off her tongue in perfect succession. She’s practiced this delivery a thousand times over, cautious and careful in her bedroom mirror or while rolling silverware at the diner. Now, they’re hot and sharp. “She’s no good for you! And you’re no good for her, if I’m honest. She had and will always love that cold hearted vampire more than you. And you can’t even see it! It’s right in front of your fucking eyes and you keep turning away from it. Newsflash Jake, you’re a toy. A plaything for your precious Bella and the last I heard, you were too fucking soft for fuckbuddies.”

The air between them shakes. The room’s hot--though the door’s open to let in the draft. “How does it feel to have mommy and daddy issues now?” Jacob spits. 

“It’s better than being a walking emotional dildo.”

“Oh, whoa,” the room around them calls out. But it doesn’t matter. Both of them are locked on each other, nostrils flared, fists clenched. Jacob’s inexperience makes him a hurricane--the winds, and rain are predictable. The anger growl in the back of his throat is the warning. 

Maelyn’s a quiet chaos, controlled in ways that even Sam denotes as impressive. She can be lethal. Jake may have a natural talent, but Maelyn has the practice, the finesse. She even has the rage she keeps so neatly tucked away. Unlike Leah, who wore bitterness on her sleeve for the world to see, Maelyn keeps her closer to her chest, right next to her heart.

Maelyn nods towards the open door. “You. Me. Outside.”

She’ll at least spare Emily’s house from the utter destruction. Maelyn’s hotheaded, brash, but not that inconsiderate that she’d destroy one of her few places to escape when things get bad. Her nearly eaten apple thunks into the hollowed trash can. 

“I’m not normally a betting man,” Quil starts, “but this would be an interesting match.” 

The voices are further away than before, Maelyn’s stride carrying her closer and closer to the door. “Jake beat me. He’s not to be messed with,” Paul returns. “Though, I’m ready to see the little lady put her money where her mouth is. She’s been talking a lot of smack lately.”

It’s a jest, a soft jab that would normally roll off Maelyn’s back when it comes to Paul. She could even give a retort in return. But all she has now is a hot stare. It falls sharply on Paul and he winces. “Or maybe I shouldn’t talk so much,” Paul corrects. The unspoken apology covers his face in a thick frown. 

“No, we’re not fighting,” Emily calls out. Her feet thump over the wooden floors. “Mae, you get back in here. We handle this like adults, not like wolves.”

“Hate to break it to you, Em, we are wolves,” Quil laughs. 

The stairs creak, though Jake’s stride is steady, his steps are heavy, unusually so. His approach is fast as he jogs down the same steps Maelyn took. “You think this is funny, huh? You think you can go on some power trip and just say whatever the fuck you want to say.” His breath is hot and strikes Maelyn’s face in huffs as he talks. 

They stand toe to toe, almost chest to chest. “You asked for it.”

“Bella’s important to me. She’s--I’m being there for her. Like a good friend would be. Like you should be there for me,” Jake hisses.

“She’s only using you! And you’re using her, what do you think we can’t see the petty revenge you’ve got going on. We all dislike the Cullens, but goddamn, Edward’s deep under that skin of yours. He’s not even here anymore. But he’s still so deep in that subconscious, he should pay rent.”

“No,” Jake growls, “it’s because of him that Bella is in this mess. And I’m the only one left attempting to clean it up. So yeah, I think that’s pretty damn important here.”

“And who’s going to be there when she breaks your heart, huh? Who do you think you’re going to turn too when this is all said and done and she goes back to Edward, should he ever return. If he even has the balls enough to come back and fix the mess he made. It’s pathetic. You are. She is. He is too. And so I am, because when you come crawling back, I will still fucking be there.”

“I’m helping her, Lyn. That blooducker has got the hooks in deep, but I’m helping her.”

Maelyn’s laughter crawls up her throat, but it’s hollow as it hits the air. “You’re selfish. Like the rest of us. And you can’t even say his name. It’s two syllables Jake. Just two. Six letters. Say his name.”

“It doesn’t matter what his name is. All that matters is that Victoria is after Bella and that we stop her. So that Bella is safe.”

“No, no, say his name. Say all six letters. Say both syllables,” Maelyn barks. Spit flies out with the harsh consonant sounds. “It’s just one little name. Ed-ward.”

“His name doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Maelyn questions. The words hurt her throat and taste bitter on her tongue. If Edward didn’t matter, if his involvement, his existence is so easily dismissed, then so is her mother. A woman who looked way too peaceful to have been attacked by an animal in the night in that casket. A woman who only was in the wrong place at the wrong time, because of work, because of a damn job that hired a replacement in three weeks. Maelyn hands are up before she can stop herself, palms flat against Jacob’s chest. The shove is hard. It’s clear from the shock on Jacon’s face he didn’t think it would come to actual blows. “My mother fucking matters,” Maelyn seethes. “Say her name.”

Jacob can only stare. He should say something. Should do as asked, but he’s not looking at his best friend anymore. There is nothing left but the rage. 

“Say it,” Maelyn commands again. 

Though Jacob recovered from the first shove, he still isn’t ready or steady enough on his feet for the second or the third shove that comes his way. His weight tips back and back and right before he lands into the thicket of the trees, Jake captures Maelyn’s wrists. The tears are hot down her face. 

Her anger is hot against her flesh; it racks against her bones, rattling at the enclosure of her self control. She just might let it all out. It’d feel nice for one, to let loose every screw. Might she be able to sink her teeth into his flesh, shred at him with her claws. Yet, It is only Jacob. It is only a kid in front of her. It’s only the potential that he says her name, that Jacob utters the reverent sound that holds Maelyn back. It’s a single thread. It’s the last latch on her box of fury. She can feel it shaking—and maybe that’s actually her. She only needs one more reason to let it all go. She only needs Jacob to refuse to say her mother’s name. 

The tears and the snarl of her lip are the only things that let Jacob know she’s on the edge. That this isn’t just about her opinion on some crush he has. It’d always be deeper for Maelyn. Her mother’s death was ruled an accident, back before Jacob even knew that the legends were true. Back when he still thought that Paul, Jared, and Sam were hall monitors on steroids, and the world seemed random and unfair. Her mother’s death was just random acts of violence and poor timing before it all unraveled. Vampires had been Maelyn’s mother's end. 

“I’m sorry, Lyn. I’m so sorry,” Jake starts. 

“Say her name,” Maelyn demands. It’s the last warning. She will not ask again. 

Jake’s used to the compulsion that comes with an Alpha order, the subconscious string he’s always carrying. But Maelyn’s simple request carries twice the heaviness of any order Sam’s ever given. Jacob thinks refusing would cause the ground to open up and swallow him whole. That or it unleashes every ounce of Maelyn’s wrath. Neither are suitable options. So he exhales. “Taynee.” It falls in a whisper. It’s two syllables. Six letters. 

“And if you ever think I care more about your precious Bella than my mother, you had better hope to God, my mother’s name stops me next time.”

“What’s happening here?” Sam’s voice breaks through the frozen air. He watches Emily’s face, the horror painted in her eyes and worries for a moment if he’s already too late. 

“I need five minutes to get ready,” Maelyn answers, breaking the hold of Jake’s hand on her wrists and heading back into the house.

She, Paul, and Quil have patrols next. Everyone watches as she strides back inside. Even Sam, who notices that his own question has been left unanswered, can only take in the slow strut back, as Maelyn stalks back into the house. The bathroom door closes and like a balloon pricked, everyone exhales. 

“I really thought she was going to snap,” Quil offers up. But no one takes the bait of his light hearted comment. 

Paul slips into the house, catching only just the start of Emily’s retelling to Sam. He knocks on the bathroom door, throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one’s spotted his departure. “It’s me,” he whispers against the wood, to let Maelyn know it’s someone safe that’s followed behind her. 

“I’ll be out in a second.” Her voice sounds shakier now than it did with Jake.

Paul tries the knob but it stiffens a quarter of the way into the twist. “Unlock the door please, Maelyn.” He gets no response. “Please,” he tries this time, softening the request with, “I just--I want to make sure you’re alright.”

The sink runs for a few seconds. Paul listens for the squeal of the pipes and it barely comes, which lets him know she’s using mostly cold water. The lock clicks first, then the knob and the door peels open to reveal the splotchy red streaks under her eyes and over her cheeks, a hardly noticeable construct to the brown of her skin. Maelyn’s darker than Paul by two or three shades, a byproduct of her Black descent. But it’s just light enough that Paul catches the pink that can flush beneath--as rare as that sight is. 

“I’m alright,” she returns, looking back towards the door as she exits the bathroom. A hot pink bra is in her hands. Undoubtedly in efforts to save her good clothes as much as possible the excessive need to phase. 

Paul follows behind her towards the laundry room. “Are you sure? I was certain Jake was going to die today.”

“The day’s still young,” Maelyn returns, tossing her bra onto the top of the dryer. 

He snorts at the jab and in the safety of the walls that divide them away from the rest of the group, Paul takes her free hands. The tips of her fingers just barely shake in his grasps. Paul takes a moment to kiss her knuckles. “My money’s always on you. But I think you should let Sam make some calls--see if Leah can cover--”

“No,” Maelyn interrupts. 

“For you,” Paul continues. “It’s rough, I know, right now.”

There’s several footsteps coming closer and Paul’s not going to risk getting caught. Not if he can help it. He takes a step back, but squeezes at Maelyn’s hand. “Think about it. We’ll be okay for a couple hours until she gets there,” he whispers and then disappears around the corner. The bathroom door clicks closed and Maelyn knows he’s ducked inside. It’s not until the weight of his hold is gone that Maelyn realizes how much the touch meant to her. But the thought is fleeting as she catches Sam’s booming voice. 

“Mae, you can switch off with Leah if you need this evening, we can make it work.”

It’s not an order. It’s an offering. But just behind it, Maelyn catches how quickly it could become one. “I’d rather work.” Though her skin is still hot with anger, and she feels like her bones could burst, she knows going home is not an option. “I think it’s safer that I do my shift tonight,” she adds. 

Sam sighs, but nods, knowing that sending her home in this kind of emotional state is just as bad. “Fine, but Paul, Quil, if you notice anything just a hair off, bring her back and I’ll tag in.”

The toilet flushes and over the roar of the sink, Paul’s affirmative response comes. He cracks open the door and peers out. “Sure the coast is clear? Pretty sure the weather did not include tornadoes.”

“Well,” Mae starts, “it seems like a wet dog is just in your future if you don’t watch it.” The words come out hotter than she means them too. It is all a joke. Meant to crack through the anger. She knows it but she’s still on the jittery edge. The hairs on the back of her neck are still raised. A hair trigger. Only one more reason to make the leap. Though she’s trying to make it two. 

Paul’s crooked smile lets her know that it’s taken with jest. “Anyone ever tell you you’re hot when you’re angry?”

“Gag me with a spoon,” Quil huffs. “I swear sometimes I wonder if the two of you should just sleep together to get it over with, ya know. Spare us this absolute agony.”

“Then she’d never leave me alone,” Paul returns, throwing a soft elbow into her bicep. “Once you have a taste, you’ll want more.”

“Something tells me I’d gag, not Quil,” Mae snorts. Her face is tight. It’s awkward to laugh or to pretend to laugh and hope it sounds real enough. But she knows she can’t sulk for long. She can’t hope or dream of the warm embrace Paul gives. So she settles for the jabs, hoping today it will suffice as a substitute. 

She doesn’t think it will. Today as her paws dig into the dirt, all she can think about is how her mother had gone to Seattle for a business trip and never made it back alive. All she can think about is how just a year ago when the news broke, it’d seem awful and random. It’d felt like terrible timing for her mother to want to go hiking. But all that’s a lie. All that is just to cover up the truth about all the things that go bump in the night. 

All that was much easier to swallow if she’s honest. 

“Jake did ask you to be nice,”  Quil huffs, a bit short and testy about seeing the replay for the second time. 

“I don’t really care what he asked for. He got what he deserved,” Maelyn returns. 

“He really didn’t get anything,” Paul answers. “He should’ve gotten his ass handed to him.”

“Would’ve been entertaining at least,” Quill adds. And if Quil does sense this the apprecation in Maelyn at Paul’s comment, he doesn’t mention it.  Quil continues on instead with, “I mean, Bella does seem nice enough. But she really shouldn’t get involved anymore than she is. Too dangerous. If she learns anything else, I worry about the Treaty.”

“We’re all worried about the Treaty,” Paul returns. He looks in the direction Maelyn took and though her thoughts are loud, the catalog of birds, twigs, and prints, he knows that she’s desperately trying to keep herself together. But he leaves it there--with her nose buried in the ground and figures it’s perhaps better Maelyn takes in the miniscule details. He’d hate to see her actually snap. 

The winds change direction and the trio take their strides with more caution, stretching ears to catch the faintest sound of anything beyond the scuttle of wildlife over the forest floors. But the shift in wind doesn’t uncover anything. The rest of the evening falls around them with little news. No sickly sweet stench to prick their noses and dig further. By the time the sun begins to crest up, they’re already turning towards the horizon of Emily’s place. All of them keep their heads on a swivel even at the tail end of their shifts. 

Paul and Quil don’t slow when Maelyn does. They already know the routine to carry on yards ahead of her and phase first. She’ll come up last after a couple minutes so that she can grab her clothes and phase back too. When their thoughts are gone, when it’s just Maelyn’s own internal voice, she exhales. It comes out in a snort. The relief though is immediate, like muscles under hot water. Maelyn’s never been more pleased to be back in her own head than ever before. She’s not sure how the hell she’s going to face Jacob again. Doesn’t know if she went too far or if she didn’t go far enough. 

The limbs in front of her shake a bit and Paul steps over the fallen carcass of a tree. In his hands are her clothes. She’s not sure why Paul’s resurfacing now, though she might suspect it’s because of yesterday. When their eyes meet, Paul grins, a bit of the mischievous cackle falling behind it. “I told Quil to go home. That I’d brief Sam since I know his mom’s on his ass lately. He wanted to wait for you but he’s more scared of his mother--as he should be. Besides, this gives me an excuse to see your tits again. You know, under the guise of protection.”

Maelyn finds most of the gesture endearing. As her bones constrict, snapping back like elastic bands, she sucks her teeth. The world goes from a vibrant hue back down, the glint of the sunrise off the dew on the leaves, to dulled wet gray before it clears back up again, like getting the snow off the TV with a good thwack to the back of it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re flirting with me,” Maelyn takes the stack--still neatly folded like she left it--of her clothes and throws the tank over her shoulder before shimmying into the shorts. 

“Damn, you really ought to know me better,” Paul teases. It’s only a stride and a half between them and he closes the distance before she can pull the tank top from its resting place on her shoulder. 

They both run the same temperature--but the weight makes all the difference as Paul slithers an arm around Maelyn’s waist. They’re the same height. Though with Paul in shoes, he manages to get over her by an inch. His gaze is warm and sincere on her. If Maelyn had less sense, she might say the look means something more. But she knows, now with imprinting on the supernatural table, whatever they feel for each other is only going to wind up in heartache at the worst. At best, they both make it out with no hard feelings and plenty of stories. 

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft as he asks the question. He knows there’s no easy answer to it. There’s no reason for Maelyn to be okay. But he wants her to know that he still cares. 

“I’m…not terrible,” she confesses. 

Paul nods, humming as if to consider if her response is acceptable. Then nods confidently. “I can accept ‘not terrible’ this time.”

Maelyn snorts. “This time, huh?”

“Yeah, this time. Next time I might not. Really just depends on how I’m feeling, if I’m honest.”

Her nails trail up and over his skin, short and the polish chipping but the sensation still sends goosebumps over his body. Paul captures her lips--short and sweet--into a kiss. Their noses brush and Paul presses his forehead into hers. “You really should’ve beaten his ass though. I was about to.”

The laughter is quick as it leaves Maelyn, a tuft of laughter for the small levity of the moment. “No, I want that honor. Since you already lost to him.”

“Once,” Paul scoffs. “And when it comes to you, it matters. I don’t know how long I would’ve lasted on the sidelines of that fight.”

Paul’s good at that, Maelyn realizes. Making things seem so simple when in reality they’re so devastatingly meaningful. To him, it’s obvious. It’s the way it’s supposed to be. But to Maelyn it feels like gravity could be replaced by the sentiment. It doesn’t. It could, though, if they were still just humans. Maelyn’s wondered more than once since this relationship started if neither one of them phased how their paths would’ve crossed. If they’d find themselves growing old together. She’s a little older and they’d really interacted in brief moments back in high school. He hung with a different crowd and Maelyn was looking forward to graduating, moving on to nursing or maybe computer engineering. She wasn’t sure, but if they’d stayed only human, it seems like the answer to her question is a resounding no. 

Perhaps, there’s a reward for such exchanges in life. 

Her exhale is shaky and she wants to cling to him, though they’re already chest to chest. Maelyn would love to crawl into his chest if she could. But that would never happen. “I think it’d get called out for cheating,” she say, finally shaking lose the thought and worry from her earlier ruminating. 

“Well, guess I’m a cheater then,” he returns with a shrug. 

Yeah, Maelyn thinks, this could change gravity’s shift. Part of her keeps hoping it will. Her shirt falls, hardly a sound, and more just the sensation of the fabric slipping down her shoulder and back as she wraps her arms around Paul’s neck. The kiss is hot, desperate--so much so that even Maelyn worries it’s too much. But Paul responds all the same, teeth nipping at her lower lip, hands sliding down to her ass. 

The forest around them is unbothered. And there’s very little worry in Paul or Maelyn as nips are made at their necks and gasps escape them. It’s easy, too fucking easy, but even as Paul sucks at the juncture of neck and shoulder, Maelyn knows they’re risking more than just hickies. She’s supposed to be home soon. Her phone’s not on her and she can’t let her dad know she might be running late. Sam’s undoubtedly going to start looking soon if they don’t surface. But it just feels all too good. 

The risk doesn’t outweigh the reward in the end. Maelyn whispers into Paul’s ear, “We should head back.” It leaves her breathless, but it’s just loud enough. 

“Just,” Paul hums, pressing his lips into her cheek now. The dramatic ‘muah’ smack follows it.  “One more.” He seals the sentiment with a quick peck. “You’re right. We’re already late and I don’t need Sam on my ass either.”

“It’s a nice ass,” Maelyn laughs, patting his backside twice before twisting in his arms to find her shirt. 

“Oh!” Paul laughs. He secures both arms around her waist right as Maelyn just barely gets her fingers around her shirt. The hoist happens fast and it’s not even that strong of a hoist either. But the threads of her shirt catch onto the sharp bark of the fallen log. In all her calculations, she should’ve dropped the shirt. But her grasp tightens and her laughter falls before it chokes out on the snap. The shirt separates, the threads popping as she goes up. 

“Shit,” Maelyn huffs. 

“Please tell me that was in fact your spine and not your shirt,” Paul hisses against her shoulder. He lowers her down and there, from her fingers rests the tattered gray tank top. 

“Unless I have an exoskeleton, that was indeed my shirt.” Maelyn knows the shirt is not salvageable. The front torn right across the chest. Not even enough integrity in the fabric to cover the thought of her nipples. 

“Shit,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” she returns. And it’s really not his fault, or anyone’s fault either. Just poor timing. “Just a shirt. But, do you think that you could get a shirt for me once we’re closer to Emily’s place?”

“Of course, yeah. C’mon.” 

It’s not awkward in the woods with no top for Maelyn. It probably wouldn’t be awkward to come up to Emily’s topless. But the worry bubbles at her gut the closer they get to the house. Paul’s taken up the lead but with the shared height, Maelyn can see what waits up ahead. A red rusted truck. One that she knows the Blacks gave to Bella upon her arrival. There’s not much cover. Paul’s sans shirt, as usual and the trees are a little thin on the edges of the property. There’s very little hiding that can be done. 

The silence of Paul is deafening. A calculation he’s undoubtedly making and Maelyn’s attempting to find a less embarrassing solution to this problem too. “Think I’m fast enough not to be seen?” she jokes. 

It doesn’t land as well as she hopes by the slight growl that grows up from Paul’s chest. “You could phase back,” he offers. 

It’s not worth the headache. And she’d have to strip in order to do that too. “I guess I could leave the bra here and get home, but no doubt Dad’s waiting on the porch by now. I don’t think he wants me to turn up naked unless absolutely necessary.”

“I think this qualifies as absolutely necessary.”

“Paul, it’s just boobs. I mean, it could be worse. I could be totally naked.”

He huffs, and shuffles the half step back to close the gap between them. Her chest brushes against his skin and muscle. It’s no shock how protective Paul’s being right now. She thinks in a reversal, she’d get the concern too. “I’m not liking our odds,” he whispers. There’s movement near the front door and the gift of distance won’t save them for much longer. 

“Our odds?  Your tits being out is normalized,” Maelyn huffs. “I mean they are great tits though,” she tacks on, moving to take a step around to take a look. 

But Paul’s quicker, arm slipping around her waist to push her back behind him yet again. “You can get a look later. Right now, we’ve got two important decisions to make.”

“Which are?”

“If you want to talk to Jake and if you’ll cheat for me should he not take a hint.”

Maelyn nods. It’s the easiest decision she’d ever have to make. A decision she’d make a thousand times over if she had the opportunity to do so. “Call the sheriff now and let him know there’s two cheaters in town.”

The next steps are cautious as the pair navigates the yard. Paul keeps his eyes trained on the open door, praying that no one breaks through the line. Just wait on the inside, he prays. Maelyn and Paul make it to the truck before the prayer shatters. He spots the shuffle of someone closer now and then the shadow breaks from one into two across the floorboards. “They should be back by now,” Jacob huffs. “Sorry about this, Bella.”

Maelyn’s blood freezes. The universe has to hate her. It’s revenge, she swears it. That or it’s Jacob's persistent optimism. Though it was a positive in most situations, right now it was becoming more of a nuisance. They’re too far past the truck now to make cover of it. Maelyn already knows if Bella goes around to the left, she’s exposed. Her and Paul’s frozen steps won’t save her. They are sitting ducks, wading in the open waters and waiting for the final blow. 

“Oh, Paul, why are you guys so late?” Jacob asks. 

And right behind him, Bella comes out, pushing to the left. Maelyn tries to cover herself, tries to use her forearm to keep herself modest. But it’s rather useless. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’m--sorry!” Bella shouts before spinning around. 

“There was a bit of a mishap,” Paul starts.

“Mishap?” Jake questions. His voice comes out panicked and Maelyn’s still too busy watching the shake of Paul’s shoulder to care about Jacob’s shrieked horror when he realizes she’s topless. 

Perhaps, there’s a third decision that will have to be made today too. 

“Baby,” Maelyn starts, pushing in even further to Paul’s back. She takes his hand and though it slows the tremors, it doesn’t stop them. 

“Can you dickheads not fucking stare?” Paul barks. 

“Hey, look, it’s not a big deal,” Maelyn offers. “It’s just--”

“It’s just the fact that they’re staring, Mae,” Paul snaps. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder. His stare is hot. “I knew it would happen. I told you.”

“You were right, okay, baby. But I need you to breathe with me. Because I swear, if you phase, I’ll have to keep my problem and then we’ll both be fucking naked at the end of it all. So inhale, two, three,” Maelyn starts. 

It’s a rule. Paul can’t ignore the breathing technique, not quite an order from Sam, but it might as well be. Paul’s committed to this boundary and would rather be struck dead than cross it. He exhales for five. And follows the count for his inhale, “Inhale, two, three. Exhale, two, three, four, five,” Maelyn repeats.

The tremors leave. But the heat of the embarrassment is slow to leave. The worry now takes the place of the anger. Sam corrals everyone back inside and it’s enough of a command to allow Paul to walk Maelyn into the safety of the laundry room with Emily. 

Emily would shoo Paul away, tell him to give Maelyn some privacy. But he is already doing that. He stands at the door, back turned, arms folded and she wonders if he’d fight to stay there should she push the matter. Perhaps, it’s best to just let it be as she digs into the baskets of clean clothes she hadn’t folded yet. 

“Okay, but did no one else catch the way Maelyn addressed Paul as ‘baby’ or are we just going to act like that didn’t happen?” Jared snickers from the living room. 

“Shut up, Jared,” Paul hollers. 

Maelyn winces when Emily produces a t-shirt. Maelyn’s easily twice the size of Emily. Not that Emily was tiny, just normal. What Maelyn wished she was so desperately at times. “Hope you’re not too attached,” Maelyn quips.

Emily laughs. “I was looking for an excuse to let it go. But if that doesn’t work, the only thing I’ve got left are a couple of shirts from Sam.”

Maelyn sizes up the shirt. It’s a woman’s medium at best and looks like it’ll snap just in her hands. So Maelyn hands it back. “I think if I were to choose your shirt, I should just stay topless.”

Emily snickers and takes the black short sleeved t-shirt. “Fair.” 

In the end, Maelyn slips into Sam’s white undershirt and when she faces Paul again, still standing guard, she sighs. “I’m sorry,” she whispers knowing the pack will not let either one of them rest now that the secret is out about them dating. The group’s ruckus from the living room is hopefully enough cover. “I was just worried about you.”

Paul takes her hand without even fully turning around. “I appreciate the worry.” It’s all he says, but he does smile, thumb brushing over the back of her hand as they move towards the kitchen. 

Bella’s gaze is shifty and her cheeks are pink when she looks back at Maelyn. Paul and Sam debrief rather quickly. However, with her hand intertwined with Paul’s, Maelyn knows she’s not leaving without him any time soon. Now that the truth is out there, there’s less concern about having to be careful. It’s a nice feeling to be able to share this closeness with Paul openly, but Maelyn knows all the glances aren’t always friendly. 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Maelyn calls out to Bella. “No one knew, so it’s not even like you could’ve done anything differently.”

“Still,” Bella stutters out. “I’m really sorry.”

“Consider it a story to tell when you’re older,” Maelyn offers. It’s the best she can offer. It does make an interesting story at least.

Bella flinches at the statement and though Maelyn goes to offer an apology, Jacob interjects. “So, Bella, sorry for the strange introduction. But Lyn’s been a friend for a while now. And I’m hoping that-”

“Ready?” Paul questions, cutting the spill off before it starts. Jake takes a step forward, mouth still primed to say more.  

“I’m late getting home because of the, well you know,” Maelyn relays to Bella. “But it was nice meeting you.” 

“Nice-nice meeting you too. I hope we can talk more next time,” she offers. 

It’s only a nod. Maelyn’s not going to lie. But she’s not going to be rude either. She leads Paul out, hands still intertwined as they go. They throw a parting over their shoulders and take the stairs down two at a time. Their feet don’t even hit the grass before Bella’s voice floats out, “She still seems pretty upset.”

“She’s just stubborn. I’ll talk some sense into her,” Jake returns. 

Could Maelyn’s mother's name save Jacob twice in twelve hours? She’s ready to carry herself back up the steps, ready to prove to Jacob just how stubborn she is. But Paul’s hold is strong. 

He nods her forward, away from the house. “Go. Your dad’s already on a thin rope.”

“You don’t have to save me.”

“I know. Because we’re both cheaters,” he winks at the mention. “But I need you to go home. Your dad, okay. Just go home, please. I’ll take care of this.”

It’s not lost on Maelyn that Paul’s own father is probably not pleased at his tardiness either. But Paul’s never seemingly been worried about that fact. In fact, Maelyn’s sure Paul does everything he can to avoid being at home, much like Embry. She should get home, she does like having the freedoms she does get. Maelyn squeezes at Paul’s hand. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

Paul nods. “Have I ever missed a call?”

“Never.”

“And I don’t plan on it. Now, go. Home.”

She’d love to kiss him, but she’s beyond late. Maelyn begins to wonder if it’s better just not to show up at home at all. But she nods, and spins, carrying herself down the dirt paths back to her house. 

“Let’s try that again,” Paul bellows into the house behind her. “Yeah, you Jacob. Try it again.”

Paul will have hell for that, sticking up for Maelyn. But he has no reservations about it. He’d do this again and again, if he could. Hell, he thinks he’d love to do this, being in Maelyn’s corner and having hers in his. It’s been easy, natural like they were always supposed to do this. But it itches in the back of his brain that it’s not really meant to be like this forever. If it was, they would’ve imprinted on each other. Yet, still Paul doesn’t think this is fighting fate. Maybe they’re meant for something else in each others lives. Maybe soulmates are more than just imprints. But he doesn’t dwell on that long. It’s never spared him, ruminating on what life will hold for him and Maelyn. They had the present and that’s all that matter. Though, Paul’s not sure what could be stronger than the realization that he’d be happy if his life never changed and no one else came after Maelyn. 

Maelyn’s jog slows when she catches the sight of her porch steps. On them, her father sits and it’s never a good sign. If it weren’t for the exhaustion, she’d be more prepared, but all she can huff out is the half hearted, “Sorry. Sorry, I’m late.”

Her father stands, holding her phone up into air. “Aren’t you supposed to call if you’re going to be late?” his voice booms. “And where’s your shirt? You said you had patrols? Were you with Paul?”

“My shirt got ripped on a log, Dad.” Maeyln holds out the tattered ends as proof. “Then Jacob brought Bella over. I just--I lost it on him before my patrols and things have just been seemingly not going well yesterday or today.”

“Lost it? I’m going to lose it. You’re supposed to call me if you’re going to be late.” Her father’s voice breaks on the words. His hot stare crumbles and the truth culprit of anxiety rears its head. 

She understands. The anxiety isn’t helped by her lack of communication. Anything could be happening. He’d be powerless, a simple human in the midst of the supernatural. A cellphone is his only defense. Maelyn keeps her hands up, shirt tattered and dirty from the forest floor. “I’m really sorry, Dad. I’m sorry. I know it’s not enough, but I am sorry.”

He drops the cellphone into her hands. “Next time don’t let Paul make you forget this.”

“You love Paul,” Maelyn counters. She can’t tell her dad otherwise that it was a torn shirt. And even if it is true that the shirt tore due to Paul’s action, that wouldn’t save her either.

“Yeah, I’d love to go a few rounds with that boy. Get inside and shower. I know you’re in his shirt.”

“It’s Sam’s,” she counters but carries up the steps. 

“I don’t really care,” her father huffs. “Just get inside. You’ll be lucky if you’re allowed to your shift later today with this act.”

Maelyn takes the loss, knowing it’s temporary. She’ll make it to her shift at Shannon’s tonight. With the loss of her mother, the shifts are a godsend. Any compensation from the company’s check after the loss of her mother has gone straight to keeping food in the house now with Maelyn’s new found change. Besides, she knows that her dad will believe her eventually, but she doesn’t try to push her luck. Not for something that in the long run may not even matter. 

The inside of the house feels too small, and there on the coffee tables the photoalbum Maelyn can’t bring herself to touch anymore. The empty slot makes it too heavy. All but that photo had come back with her mother’s personal affects after she’d been identified and returned home. Her father still looks through the couch cushions, in old filing cabinets. No police precinct or morgue’s ever called to say they’ve found it either. 

Maelyn ignores the rants of her father still filling the space with hot hair and goes to her bedroom. There, still on the bed is the pile of her mother’s old clothes. Her father left the box on her floor three days ago with the warning to pick what Maelyn wanted to keep before the rest got donated. Her pile is mostly sweatshirts with the necks cut out entirely or into V’s, so now the item fits baggier which are the only things Maelyn can fit now thanks to her growth spurt. Though, she did sneak some t-shirts just because they still smelled like her mother. 

The box is now gone and only the pile remains. She should wash them, and had every intent to, but couldn’t bring herself to put them in the hamper, so on the bed they went. 

“Don’t go closing doors in my house,” her father huffs, cracking the door open to her bedroom. “Breakfast will be ready soon if you’re hungry.”

She always is at this point, so she only nods. “Okay.” It’s the only thing that won’t start another fight. Her mother would’ve listened, would’ve wanted to hear about what had prompted Maelyn to lose it on Jacob. Her dad would’ve too, but now he’s too far gone in his own grief to seem to understand what Maelyn wanted to say to him. 

Maelyn can’t lose her mother three times, she knows. But as she presses the sweatshirts into her chest, she fears she could lose to a washing machine.

[sapphoshands]

happy birthday!!! (i know i'm late!!) dvd commentary on Rabbit Heart? i love one (1) possibly not a bunny.

overdue and over-long response to this behind the cut! full commentary on all four chapters of Rabbit Heart. thank you for asking - i had fun poking through the story for bits and pieces.

John doesn’t sleep, exactly, the night after the green clouds clear over Westview. But he lies in bed and does the grounding exercises his last therapist gave him, box breathing until his heart rate slows to something approaching normal, then switching to his trusty standby, the five-things exercise.

this was absolutely me going, look, these poor people of westview, they must need so much therapy, i hope they are getting so much therapy.

Five things he sees: curtains rippling, moonlight reflected on the ceiling, the framed Larry Doby card he saved up for in college, the light on the tv, his nieces’ photo.

i wanted to keep these short but try and build a bit more character by putting in something concrete. larry doby is a famous Black baseball player from new jersey. and the nieces? john/herb doesn’t seem to have kids or a partner but i wanted to give him some family (he needs it, poor guy).

[...] a big messy stack of hay and grass lands smack dab in the middle of John's laundry basket with a soft thud. He about jumps out of his skin when it’s followed by the tinny crash of a cage bouncing off his bed. The rabbit flops onto its side on the quilt [...]

rabbits do that flopping down thing only when they are super comfortable and relaxed. i wanted to imply here that scratchy is, a, incredibly different from a typical rabbit (they are pretty high-strung, to my understanding), and b, so used to agatha’s brand of chaos that loud weird noises are very normal for him :P

Agnes frowns, screwing up her nose in frustration. “You know, that’s a very loaded question for me right now, Herb. Let’s just say I am temporarily unable to take care of Scratchy in the manner to which he has become accustomed, and I’m not quite sure how long this state is gonna last. So I’m doing the responsible thing and making sure he’s got a safe place until I can do something about all this.” She gestures at her grey, flowing, see-through body. “You get me?” John absolutely does not get her. He nods vigorously.

each of these chapters started with a mental image and i’m pretty sure this is the one that gave me the idea for this chapter. full ‘oh heck no’ energy from john.

Agnes—Agatha—reaches out and runs a finger over Scratchy’s head. John can’t tell if the fur moves or not.

poor agatha not being able to pet scratchy was also a significant factor in needing to write this! you’ll notice that by the end she is fully able to pet him again, because i REFUSED to leave her yearning for bunny snuggles.

He sits down on the side of the bed, puts his head between his legs and starts box breathing again. Tomorrow, he tells himself, he’s gonna start looking for real estate agents.

HONESTLY WHY DO ALL THE WESTVIEW RESIDENTS STILL LIVE THERE

*

“I need Scratchy,” Agatha says, turning and drifting back down into the basement. Billy immediately thinks of the cat from that old cartoon his parents like to watch on Sundays. 

okay do Kids Today even still watch the simpsons??

Billy suddenly has a premonition about the next few weeks of his life. He wonders whether there’s a way to speed up a ghost’s ability to interact with the physical realm.

hahahahaaaa poor billy. poor billy! 

Billy looks at her like she’s nuts and she rolls her eyes in annoyance. “The cage, Billiam,” she says, exasperated.

i’m sorry, i’m way too amused at myself for ‘billiam’

She drifts along ahead of him to the car. “You know, I used to own one of these,” she says, hovering behind his back bumper. Off his surprised look, she snorts. “I had an outdoorsy phase, okay. And it was an easy way to meet… people… for a while back in the ‘90s. The 1990s. Obviously.”

i am not immune to a subaru joke! i will eventually write something about agatha and her extremely the craft-influenced 1990s coven and there is a good chance a subaru will show up in it. also, agatha saying ‘the 90s… the 1990s’ was one of those things that happened as i was writing, and i kind of also want to write something with her and rio where they go through decades but keep getting the centuries wrong. (hm, i think i may have stolen this from the old guard, actually. sorry, greg.)

Holding eye contact, Scratchy bares his teeth and hisses. Billy pulls back.

this was the inciting image for this chapter! billy, you don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.  i like to think billy’s mom is really going to get on with scratchy, though. many bunny snuggles in her future (as billy frantically tries to hide all the weird shit scratchy does).

*

How long will a man lie in the earth ere he rot? Eight or nine years, if he be not rotten before he die—or if Rio can’t stand to look at her slack empty face any longer. Shakespeare didn’t get everything right about death, but he knew a few things.

so i spent a while thinking i was going to title all my rio fic with quotes from poems about death, and then i decided that was too pretentious EVEN for me, but it sparked a couple of conversations with people about whether rio would pay attention to that sort of thing. my opinion is that she treats it like reading her reviews - she pays attention to her press.  in this case it’s obvs a “hamlet” quote and i think it probably came around because i wanted to make an ‘alas, poor yorick’-style joke about rio and agatha’s skull, but decided to go for something slightly more tasteful.

For the second time, Death’s world tilts. The weight of a new reality settles into her bones. She feels… lessened.

the first time, of course, being when nicky died.

To steady herself, she counts the poisonous mushrooms that have popped up out of the grave. They’ll bring her back here once or twice more, she thinks. A last gift from her destroying angel.

a destroying angel (genus amanita, related to the death cap) is one of the deadliest mushrooms known around the world. and it grows in new jersey! yes, of course rio sprouted toxic fungi off agatha’s grave.  yes, this was an excuse to have rio give agatha a disturbing pet name.

The rabbit doesn’t go anywhere. In fact, it hops closer and starts nibbling on one of the violets.

i was going to make an azalea joke here but turns out azaleas are toxic to rabbits! so, violets, very queer, very purple.

“You really are hers, aren’t you?” Rio murmurs. With a little effort, she detaches the bunny’s teeth from her skin and settles back with him in her arms.

agatha bites. that’s it, that’s the joke. that's also the inciting image for this chapter. well, scratchy biting. not agatha. ;)

Shifting the rabbit in her arm, Rio grabs her knife out of its holster and cuts a hole in reality, staring through it into the contents of the grave beneath her feet. With a sharp shock, she realises it’s empty. At some point Agatha’s soul snuck out and ran off without Rio noticing. How in the seven hells had she managed that? Rio looks down at the rabbit. “Were you just here as a furry little distraction?” she demands.

speaking of poetry about death, i was thinking about An Arundel Tomb when i wrote this and i couldn’t quite figure out a way to work in any of it. ‘sharp shock’ is a little nod to ‘sharp tender shock,’ which, again, was a little too pretentious to lift directly. but thinking about rio making agatha some sort of lasting effigy lies underneath some of this story (“What will survive of us is love.”).

also yes, scratchy was totally just being a cute distraction so agatha could go ghosty.

i should also add - i worked it out for 'you open always,' originally, but it took some time to figure out how rio would swear! what would she swear by! not god, for sure, right? i've settled on hells/seven hells/hellfire for the most part because i am guessing she has a healthy respect.

and actually, two larkin poems almost made it into this - i was trying to figure out a way to cite Myxomatosis, but that didn't work out either. but 'you may have thought things would come right again / if you could only keep quite still and wait' is... not not related to how rio feels on realising agatha is actually dead.

To the south, there’s an old, dilapidated cabin. She and Agatha spent some time here, back in the day, and Rio has kept tabs on the place, using it when she needs to be in this realm for a while. It’s… she supposes humans would call it nostalgic.

i wrote this after you open always petal by petal myself but posted it first. anyway, the cabin in both stories is intended to be the same one. good chance it will show up in other fic too.

*

Rio’s wandering through another massacre in another part of the world—they blur into each other, year after year after year—when she gets the uncomfortable prickle down her spine that says there’s a ghost nearby. There’s no reason to think… but she has a really bad feeling.

i just think she has a sixth sense for agatha shenanigans after so long, okay.

“Me?” Agatha flutters her spectral eyelashes. “What are you doing here?” Rio makes a face. She throws up her hands, fingers spread, indicating the streets of rubble surrounding them, bodies buried in all sorts of places. “Yeah, okay. Fair,” Agatha concedes with a tilt of her head.

TROLL 4 TROLL. i love writing them.

She showed up in the aftermath as usual, finding Agatha inside a cottage tearing through a witch’s paltry treasures and Nicky in the farmyard entranced by the small herd of goats. He opened the gate to set them all free—a practised move—and one headbutted him, seeking a crust of bread from his pocket.

two bits of headcanon here - one that rio senses it whenever agatha kills someone, and one that nicky isn’t always a total bleeding heart but has his own jobs in their way of life - letting the goats free so they won’t starve in the pen, for example. 

Agatha bit into the apple, the crisp flesh yielding with a sharp crack. “He often asks if we can keep one,” she said, chewing. “But I see no point, if it is only for a short time.” She pinned Rio with a glare, hostile and hopeful all at once. All Rio could do was meet her gaze evenly. She had no new answers to give.

also something that might show up in more fic: i think rio was actually around nicky and agatha a fair amount, not just observing them from the shadows - because wouldn’t agatha want to try and manipulate rio further and get as much time out of her as possible?

“Traitor,” Agatha coos at him, still waving her fingers coaxingly. “Death rides a pale bunny, is that it? How far you’ve fallen,” she adds, glancing up.

‘death rides a pale bunny’ was the excuse for writing this entire epilogue.

“Baby, I missed you,” she says to the rabbit, and Rio sulks. She shifts her stance, leaning to one side, then the other. She’s not jealous of a rabbit. That would be absurd.

she’s totally jealous of a rabbit and it IS absurd. but understandable.

Agatha glances up, still stroking Scratchy’s head. “I was in the neighbourhood.” She raises a sarcastic eyebrow. “And I had to check in on Señor Scratchy, of course.” Rio huffs, exasperated. “You didn’t even know I had him!” Agatha smiles, irritatingly beatific. “Didn’t I?” Rio’s genuinely not sure if Agatha’s fucking with her.

‘i was in the neighbourhood’ is, of course, twitting rio for showing up when summoned onto the road. and is agatha fucking with rio? i mean… always. probably. right?

Scratchy doesn’t usually tolerate petting for too long, Rio knows, and sure enough, he hops away from Agatha’s gentle touch.

i wanted it to be clear that rio spends time with scratchy. no one can resist the bunny snuggles.

She still doesn’t know how Agatha managed to become a ghost, or why she was here in the first place. But all Rio can think about is Agatha’s expression when she promised to come back. Rio squeezes Señor Scratchy until he lets out a little bunny snort. “I’m counting on it,” she says.

bring! back! agatha! 

*

the epilogue was self-indulgent and an excuse to write more rio, but of all three people i saddled with scratchy, i actually think billy is the most likely option.

[tegr1dy]

The Blue Angels Came to South Park

Stan brought two Coca-Colas to school: one for himself, and one for Kyle, stuffed inside of his jacket pocket.

The first time a plane flies over the school they’re in the middle of a lesson. It’s loud, and he thinks the sky is actually breaking, because that would be more in line with something he’s actually experienced before.

The entire school goes outside to watch. They’re watching the planes cross each other in the sky, their engines leaving behind puffy X-shaped trails of smoke in their wake. Stan elbows Kyle.

“Here,” Stan says, and hands him his Coke.

“Oh, sweet!” Kyle takes the soda, his fingers brushing Stan’s around the width of the can.

“I had to sneak this, so appreciate it,”

Kyle nods in thanks and smiles, cracking it open.“Your parents don’t let you have soda?”

“No, they do. They just don’t let me pack soda in my lunch.”

“My mom doesn’t either.” A plane whirrs above them and Kyle looks up at the sky. Stan is still looking at Kyle. “She says it’s too much sugar.”

“But you always have chocolate milk.”

Some kids are beginning to get distracted, looking away, running around on the grass while their teachers scowl underneath watchful eyes.

“Milk builds strong muscles,” Kyle retorts.

“Strong, sure…”

Stan just about jumps out of his skin when Kyle wraps his arm around him and squeezes. He can’t lift Stan up very far, but it’s clear that he’s trying. Their chests are pressed together. Stan stumbles and then they’re toppling over, Kyle’s arms still locked in a death grip around Stan’s waist. Their Cokes spill all over the grass, a little bit of sticky, sugary drink splashing onto their faces, too.

“Told you I’m strong,” Kyle says as he pushes himself off of Stan to lie on his back next to him, holding his forearm over his eyes to block out the sun.

“Stan! Kyle! Quit the horseplay!” Mr. Mackey calls to them from a distance, but they’re already sticky with soda, covered in dewed grass, dirt on their clothes, and they don’t care. Kyle snickers first, and then they both start laughing.

Another blue plane, identical to all the other blue planes, makes a loop-de-loop for the fifteenth time above them. “This is kinda boring,” Stan sighs.

“Better than that Grammar diagraming lesson. Mr. Garrison’s sentences are always so weird. ‘A tea bag helped the the delivery man in dispensing his load.’ Like, what does that even mean?”

“I have no idea. Maybe we could ask Tweek, he knows all about hot drinks.”

Stan and Kyle both look up when above them, a plane begins to nose dive before catching itself and ascending with glory back into the sky until it’s nothing more than a tiny black speck.

“Woah! I thought it was gonna crash.” Stan likes how wide Kyle’s eyes get when he’s fascinated. He splays his left arm out until he’s brushing Kyle’s right hand. It’s Kyle’s turn to eye Stan carefully now while Stan keeps his eyes on the sky where all five planes are flying in unison, synced up in a neat little line. He’s not paying attention, though. Rather, his focus is on the tips of Kyle’s fingers grazing his knuckles, tickling the hairs there and making his wrist twitch away, regretful.

Kyle takes Stan’s hand, holding it still.

When the Angels make their final swoop down to low ground and then back up again, one swift, fluid motion, Stan’s stomach flips and he figures he must have a distaste for flying.

As they drift away to their landing site, Stan closes his eyes against the harsh light of the sun and pictures himself and Kyle drifting among the clouds too. As South Park, everyone, and everything in it fade away into dreams, they’d float along into a new plane of existence made carefree just for the two of them.

[ofastureheroics]

Continued

@valiantcharisma

Relief; is what Conrad felt. He knew his body was weak. He knew that it was a miracle that he had woken up. Given the amount of pain he was in when he crashed. When he felt those bullets hit his skin. The flesh pierced with blood. He recalled seeing the droplets of blood strayed across the pavement; it was the hero in him. He had sacrificed himself for Cade, he wanted to take the burn for her. He wanted to protect her from the mob. And frankly he felt a bit of responsibility, he knew Cade had the urge to run when she was made to be involved in the FBI, when I had found out why my name was being tainted through the mud. She wanted to run; the only reason Cade had stayed at Chastin this long was because of me. 

Because I pushed her to stay. I was selfish to ask her to stick it out. I was selfish to ask her to stay on my behalf. Today she was on the move planning to leave town, to go into hiding; but yet again I wanted to have the last word. I wanted to have one last touch, one last conversation and look where it landed us? In a hospital room, me as the patient. I was scared of the repercussions of the mob, once they had word that the hit they intended was still alive. Once they found out both parties involved were okay. I was worried for the redhead sitting besides my bed, I was worried for Gigi she was my priority, she already lost one parent to death. I couldn’t bare the thought of her seeing me weak. Of her lift being put at risk. 

Yet the parent inside of me was willing to risk it all for Cade; I heard her; I saw the fear behind her eyes. The way she watched our connected hands with ease, the way she held herself up as strong, brave. Despite the fear that was screaming out of her chest. I didn’t want to live in fear; nor did I know what happens next. 

“ If I need anyone on my side, you were always my first pick. Kit on the other hand; she might put up quite the fight. She did manage to get me through my surgeon now didn’t she?” She was a badass; she also meant business, she cared for her staff, she cared for others in her hospital. The hospital had taken a turn around since she began her regin as CEO the changes have been implemented, and Conrad knew he was in the right hands. He had to think on the bright side, he didn’t want to feel the fear that if he was left alone long enough in this room someone, from the mob could sneak inside, he didn’t want to second guess himself. For just a second he wanted to embrace what he felt in his heart was real. He wanted to put the worry on hold. 

A light smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Fingers ran along the female’s knuckles reassuringly. “ I know we can’t pretend the shooting didn’t happen. I’m living proof that it did. But for just one second I just want to hold my daughter, I want to hold your hand and not feel like it’s the last time. For just a second can we just not think about what lays ahead.” A sense of plead written in his voice; for now it was only us. Gigi was on her way down, I trusted Billie had protected some aspects of my accident from her; the last thing I needed was to worry curious eyes; worry the one thing that felt safe. 

A tighten grasp; he would’ve tugged Cade closer if he could. But he hoped the words he spoke told her he was serious about this, figuring out what an us looked like. “ I don’t want you to run. I want you here, and I know this is scary, it feels scary. But I think it’s worth fighting the storm through.” Assuring Cade decided to stay; I was all in; we felt pain, we felt fear but we could also embrace the happiness if we allowed ourselves to.

[jackdaw-and-hattrick]

“How? How can you be sure he isn’t tricking you?” Batman growled, voice barely kept below his version of a scream.

painfearnonotagainpleasefearnonopainfearfearfearfear

“How?” Jason bit back, “The same goddamn way I knew that Willis was a coward who beat up on his girlfriend and kid ‘cause it made him feel big but who whimpered like a dog at the first sign of danger. That Catherine’s friend Luci who came by every Saturday was in love with her loooong before she broke down on the couch watching Thelma and Lois. That Catherine loved me more than almost anything. I know the way I know every goddamn bastard I’ve ever put a bullet in was never, ever gonna change because, fuck, there's a difference between regret and not wanting to die. The way I know just how much Alfie adores us all and all the fucking anger he’s been harboring under since nine years old is still right there under Dick’s witch hazel-soaked skin! He just got fucking guilty about it! I know...”

The wind swept in strong from the east, blowing a steady stream of rain against his face. Fuck the old bastard, didn't even have the decency to confront him when he was in costume. No, he just landed on his fucking roof at fuck all at night. Now he was standing there in a weathered old teeshirt, plaid flannel pants, and a pair of knit socks gifted to him by the old woman next door, all of which were growing progressively soaked.

“I know the same way I knew that day when you grabbed me, that Batman wasn't some fucking Cryptic, he was a sad, lonely little man and, hell, maybe I was feeling kinda sad an’ lonely too. I thought maybe, just maybe you’d get me, but it turns out your just some fucked up billionaire, and me? I’m a useless freak who can’t even fucking die right.”

Nonononopleasehowhelpsorrysorryhelp?

“Jason...”

shockhurtshockconfusedhelp?hELP?

“But Danny... He’s... He’s something else. The first time I met him I was pissed and looking to get blackout drunk. He went out of his way to calm me down and cheer me up, even though he was absolutely miserable. He just... Gets it. He makes me feel like person in a way that I haven't since I clawed my way out of that fucking grave. He knows what it's like to feel like a freak; to feel so goddamn helpless and useless and alone.

“Yeah, he’s dangerous. So am I. Hell, so are you. But he chooses every. single. fucking. day to be kind, even when he’s hurting. Yeah, he’s a sarcastic, petty bastard. I probably couldn't stand him if he wasn't. That doesn't change that he’s experienced the absolute worst humanity fucking offers at the hands of his parents and your buddies at the GiW and still only wants to keep everyone from the pain he’s suffered. I mean, the man’s been fucking vivisected! But he still wants to help; to be good for some godforsaken reason!

“You’re a genius, you can’t be a fucking idiot too. You know how to check for bias in fucking research. You know not to trust someone just ‘cause some fucking politicians got payed to think they’re a good idea. Danny doesn't deserve to be hunted like this. He’s just a person! Same as you or me or your stupid blue boy scout! Just...let this go. I know that phrase isn’t exactly one that fits through that tiny ass crack in your skull new ideas seep through, but please…

Let us feel like people together,”

A familiar clawed hand landed on Jason’s shoulder. He looked up, met not with a mask but the face of the man who had taken him in so long ago. He looked worn, exhausted in the way only those who’d seen far too much for their years could be.

SorrypleaseForgIvEmE “I’m sorry.” hUrtSorRypLEasesorry

Jason felt Bruce’s words more than he heard them, an overpowering rush of agony crashing into him like a hailstorm.

“I didn't mean... Didn't mean to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

“……………………………………………………..The fuck…”

Jason had expected a lot. He had expected a fight, some overwrought, battle of will type bullshit. What he hadn’t expected, what he’d never expected since the first time he and Bruce had got in anything that could be considered a fight was for the old bastard to actually apologize. Hell, up until a few seconds ago Jason wasn’t sure it was even in his vocabulary. Suddenly he was enveloped in strong, armor-clad arms, the thick leather like material of a pitch black cape as warm and comforting as a worn childhood blanket.

“You don’t have a meta gene.” SorRoWgRieffaiLedfAiledhow

“Really,” he sopped tearily, “that’s what you’re gonna focus on here?”

“It’s true.”

(It’s all he could think to say)

Jason felt some small satisfaction in that he could at least give the single most irritating answer situationally possible.

“‘S not genetic, ‘s magic.”

“Hmrrr” whywhyfrustrationwhywhy

“Danny’s helping me with it.”

“Good.”

Now, if Jason hadn’t been expecting Bruce’s apology, it’s quite understandable that Bruce’s then proceeding to condone an unknown “helping” one of his children with something even remotely tasting of magic, especially something which had apparently been an ongoing issue hidden behind Bruce’s back which he still didn’t understand was almost enough to have Jason wondering if this was all a highly elaborate dream being used to trap him in his own subconscious. Still, Jason could smell Bruce’s cologne. It was something rich, probably from Dick and probably called something “deep bourbon dream”, not at all like the musty floral stuff he'd worn back when Jason could wear scaled shorts without a hint of irony.

( “It was my mother’s,”

“I found a bottle in her room before it was sealed shut. The smell always makes me feel safer; like she is still here to protect me when everything becomes too much. Don't know what I'll do when it runs out.”)

(An undersized boy, clinging tight to his father, his B, like a koala against the barrage of feelings pushing at his head. He’s safe here, in the dark, the smell of sweat and old perfume drowning the negative emotions he so easily forgets are not directed at him.)

“Look who needs to be checked for possible mental manipulation now.”

Jason tries for sarcastic but his words come out as soggy as his socks.

“Hmh,” he said, a soft grin poking the unwieldy corners of his face.

“Goddamnit I’m trying to be pissed at you right now.”

The two sat there for a long moment, both unwilling to be the first to break whatever fragile spell had tessered together the frayed corners of their relationship for them to have a moment like this. The rain was letting up. Heavy clouds held their breath at the seemingly impossible sight.

“‘Should probably go back in before I freeze off something important.”

Both stood. Bruce pulled his cowl back up in a clean motion and Jason made a feeble attempt to squeeze the rain out of his utterly soaked shirt. Still, he wiped it across his face, more or less clearing his vision and absolutely failing at playing off his reddened eye as yet another byproduct of the storm. Goddamn it, he hadn’t cried this much when he died. Then again that could just be because of the extreme heat and his stubborn refusal to cry in front of off-brand Crusty the Clown. Already Bats was halfway across the roof, the slick concrete meaningless in the wake of his decades of practice in getting the Hell outta dodge.

“Hey,” there was something fragile in Jason’s chest as he spoke, as if the wrong word could tumble out at any moment and break him, “Try not to die, ‘kay? It's not fun.”

Bats briefly paused, not even looking back as he nodded. Hesitationfearapreciationcarewhy?why?why? why?

“And tell Alfie to set an extra place for Sunday dinner!” Jason shouted, “‘Got someone special I’d like you all to meet!”

Empath

Jason Todd is an empath, something that probably no one would believe if they were told the story of Red Hood. It's not an ability he likes to brag about either, honestly, Jason hates it, as much as he hates being back from the dead, it makes him feel different, it makes him feel like he doesn't fit in.

It starts small, with a boy who feels his mother's pain and his father's rage. With a child who sees Batman and instead of a big scary bat feels layers and layers of sadness. It starts with Robin, feeling too much and wanting to change everything for the better.

He never tells Bruce, what good would it do? It's not a useful skill, sensing the Joker's madness didn't help to prevent his death. Feeling Bruce's despair wasn't enough to keep his eyes open.

It ends too quickly, too soon. Maybe for that reason he was given a second chance. One that Jason didn't want. Pit madness feels a thousand times stronger than it should, it pollutes his mind, it seeps into his heart and Jason hates it a little more every day.

Then, he meets Danny in a bar, full of smiles and biting comments but so so scared. He hears his silent pleas, his regrets, his desire to belong, to not be hated. And for the first time in a long time, Jason's heart breaks a little.

For the first time in a long time, the pits fall silent and give way to the confused feelings of the boy beside him.

Danny becomes part of the routine, Jason doesn't quite know how but the boy refuses to leave. He never asks about Red Hood, though the small flicker of doubt every time Jason leaves the apartment confirms that he knows. He never stops him, he just smiles and waits for him with a first aid kit under his arm, bandages his wounds and sleeps beside him.

Jason knows he is dangerous but can't help but love him as much as he can't help but feel the pain that accompanies the boy.

Then, his little home life is invaded by Bruce (worried, always worried, overly cautious), he warns him that Danny is a dangerous creature, warns him that he will hurt him. Jason can't help but snort.

Jason knows Danny isn't human, it's not something his ability tells him, it's just easy to deduce. But when Danny confesses it to him (scared, so so scared), he downplays it, tells him it's okay and he can go back to sleep. Danny doesn't fit into what's normal, but that's okay, he doesn't either.