#One more part left

[dcxdpdabbles]

Me sitting here rereading the adopted son looking like the try not to cry meme waiting for you to absolutely wreck me with the next part

Dick wakes groggy, every part of him sore like he was one giant bruise. It didn't make sure. He doesn't think he was hit recently, but the urge to stretch his arms and legs is almost overwhelming with the desire to ease his pain.

He had not felt stiffness in a very long time, having always been able to move and control his body however he wanted. The last time he felt like this was when Bruce introduced him to a fighting style that was more stationary and went against his natural reflexes.

He might have to do basic morning stretches to get his flexibility and help with the weighted feeling.

He goes to do just that when he feels the restraints on all four of his limbs hinder his movement. Dick's head loads to the side, staring down at the metal clasp tightly against his wrists. He blinks owlishly at it, static blurring in his mind as he tries to compute what the hell is happening.

Slowly gazing around, he concludes he's in a dark room, with the only light hanging over his head like a makeshift spotlight. Usually, his eyes would work rather well in the dark—years of running around the city at night as Robin and Nightwing helped condition them—but the bright light over his head put enough of a strain on his pupils that he couldn't make anything else around him in contrast.

He was wearing his pajamas, the ones Raven had switched him into, using her magic to avoid his skin as much as possible.

She had Kori hold him up because Dick hadn't had the strength to do it himself. Did that explain the soreness? Why had he felt so exhausted? What had he been doing?

It's all a blur for a few moments when an image appears in his mind with utter clarity.

It's Crowne crying in a police cruiser.

It all comes rushing back like a breaking dam, including his depressed state of rotting away as the world moves on and the mysterious intruders who broke into the Manor.

Oh crude.

It takes a moment for his mind to catch up to his situation. Sadly, by the time he realizes he was likely kidnapped, the door to his room opens.

The light emanating from the hallway is brighter than the spotlight on Dick, which makes it hard to make out any details about the person who walks through, but he does pick up the fact the tile is pure white and the wall behind him is pained in black.

Standing in the doorway, just observing him, is the very same figure Dick was thinking of. The same all-black clothing, half-covered face, and burning blue eyes stare back at him. This time there is no anger in them, though; all Dick can make out from those blue iris is cold indifference, studying Dick like a bug stuck underneath a needle during a scientific study.

Dick's eyes flicker to the hallway again, attempting to gather more information from the environment than the stranger. Usually, that wouldn't narrow anything down, but Bruce had always advocated that any clue was helpful, including the decor of his kidnappers.

One never knows when a seemingly innocent wallpaper could pinpoint a location because of its uniqueness. The fact the door slipped up and down to close indicated that whoever had taken him was likely more technically advanced than an average grunt.

It did make sense, seeing as they had snatched Dick from the middle of the Wayne Manor surrounded by not only the Bats but the Teen Titans too.

Sadly, with the door closed, it plunges the room into more darkness, effectively shadowing the small figure. Dick feels a lick of unease as the sound of footsteps echoes throughout the room.

He was circling Dick, walking around him like a shark ready to pounce.

"Finally, you are more aware." The person says, voice shockingly young. Male and, if Dick concentrated enough, somewhat familiar. "Good. The whole pathetic, sad bit was getting old. Especially with the fact you were the one who caused your downward spiral."

"What would you know of the pain I went through?" Dick demands, not paying mind to the odd things they are saying. He knew villains rarely, if ever, made sense, but he needed more information.

"I know plenty, seeing as you were the one who stole my brother from me!" The disembodied voice snaps, sounding a little closer than before. He's on Dick's right side now, which meant he had redone his loop.

"What, brother?" Dick asks, eyes shifting through the darkness. He makes out a darker blur just to the left of him and keeps it within his provisional vision, aware that if he turns his head or follows with his eyes, then the perk may be agitated into aggression.

"Don't play dumb with me, Nightwing," The boy hisses, sending a shot of alarm down Dick's spine. He's not in his vigilante gear, which means this person knew who he was going in to take him. "We both know the truth now. You were lying to him for months, telling him you loved him and making him think you cared before you took him away!"

Dick figures out who it is just as the blur finally steps out of the shadows to slam his hands on the arm handles of his chair. He fights a wince as the open palm slaps sting around his wrist but refuses to show the crazed little boy an inch of weakness.

A healthy response to all of Bruce's training, including his other teachers over the years, was how to keep a level head in hostage situations

Tim Drake glares at him with near-manic eyes, his black cloth doing nothing to hide his sneer. "Where is Danny? Where have you taken him!?"

A flash of hurt burns across Dick's chest; the near-crushing weight of heartbreak would have brought him to his knees were he not tied to a chair.

As he meets Drake's eyes, it takes everything to cover up his reaction to that name. "He's locked up where he will pay for his crimes."

"He didn't do anything wrong!" Drake sneers, pushing away from Dick to pace back and forth. He's half hidden in the shadows now, only his feet visible, but Dick does not take his eyes off of him. He doesn't want to know what else he could do if skilled enough to break into the Manor. "Danny was just trying to help."

"Human trafficking was just help? He's a menace!" Dick snaps and is rewarded with a slap across the face. It stings, but it's not as alarming as the speed at which Drake moved.

Dick hadn't even seen it coming until seconds before his palm touched his cheek.

"Danny wasn't selling kids! He was rescuing them, moving them from dangerous situations because you and the government couldn't be bothered to help those without voices." Drake spat, hate dripping from every syllable. "If any of you had bothered to even look for the kids, you would know that!"

"He kidnapped them. He used corrupted CPS agents to move them out of city bounds, changed their names, and placed them in homes that gave the highest bidding. That's the very definition of trafficking!"

Drake hisses something under his breath; it's in a language he's never heard before, but it doesn't sound entirely human. Shit, did Drake have extraterrestrial allies?

"What other options was there? You, of all people, know there is no more room in Gotham. Or did you forget your time in juvie just because there was no space anywhere before Brucie Wayne felt the need to take pity on the local circus freak?" Drake spits, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

Having heard the same thing from various people since he was nine, Dick did not react to the taunt. He is a bit uncomfortable that Drake knows of Dick's placement the first few weeks following his parent's deaths.

There should be no public record of that, as he wasn't sent to juvie for any crime. It was just the only place available with space. In his file, the only thing that indicated his stay there was the sentence "Emergency foster house twenty-three nine-teen," which happened to be the cell number they stuck him in.

Bruce had made an effort not to let that information leak since it embarrassed Dick and had buried it in piles and piles of legal actions. Not even Jason or Barbra could find it, even after they actively went looking for Dick's information. Just how much did Drake know?

"Whatever. It doesn't matter. Your government dogs can't get to the kids; Danny had a policy in place, and everyone involved knew the risks. They may spend the rest of their lives in prison, but they helped children, and they all would do it again. Those that age out are untouchable, and those that escaped will be hidden until their eighteen birthdays." Drake sighs, moving back to stand in front of Dick. His voice is unnervingly under control as if the fit he just had never happened.

This wasn't a boy with a regular imbalance; this was one who could and would think logically when hurting others. A sociopath, and worse, a dangerous one.

Drake's cold, emotionless eyes suddenly overwhelm Dick's sight as the boy leans in very close to hiss. "What matters is where you have Danny. Tell me where he is."

"He's in jail while they get his Blackgate cell nice and warm for him-"

Drake slaps Dick again, voice hard as steel but not raised. Not screaming. Just even, almost soft, were it not for the threat that lingers in each word. "Don't lie. Danny was never sent there."

"What? Of course, he was. After his arrest, he was taken to jail pending his trial." Dick insisted, watching as Drake's eyes ran over his face as if searching for fault in his words. "Everyone saw his arrest on TV!"

"You don't know," Drake mutters, leaning back and rubbing his chin. He isn't looking at Dick anymore, not really, but his eyes are trained on Dick's face. "Danny vanished a few hours after his arrest. There is no indication he was moved to any jail or police holding unit. There was a shift in guard, seeing as Officer Black was too emotionally compromised to finish. He hit Danny too many times not to count it as police brutality. I thought the Justice Leauge had taken him during that change in gaurd, but if it wasn't you, and it wasn't the government, then who has Danny?"

What?

"The hell are you talking about?" Dick demands, but Drake isn't listening anymore; he walks back into the shadows, his footsteps somehow louder than before as the door reopens.

This time, there is a small group of figures on the other side, each varying in size and gender, but one thing is clear.

They are all children.

The missing children from Crowne's ring, Dick is sure of it even if they all have half of their faces covered to protect their identity. A few of them send glares at Dick, but most are staring at Drake with anticipation.

One brave little girl, based on her voice steps forward.

She addresses Drake with an odd little salute, one closed fist smacking her chest before she twists her wrist, causing her fist to move forward and drags her hand down. "Leader?"

"He didn't take Danny," Drake announces, and a few shoulders drop in disappointment. "In fact, I'm starting to think no human did. Someone or something else is at play here."

"But…what about the Parkers?" A boy, older, maybe later teenage years, demands. He sounds worried, angry and frantic all mixed into one."They got sent to prison because of me!"

"They did not. They knew the risks and still chose to give you a good home. Don't worry; once we find Danny, we will be able to save the Parkers." Drake assured.

One of the children gestures at Dick, voice dipping into disgust. "What do we do with him?"

"Leave him be for now. We don't know when Grayson will come in handy for a hostage trade." Drake answers, not even bothering to glance in Dick's direction. "For now, we move as planned. Are the videos set to go?"

"Yes, Leader, they will broadcast over every open screen in the whole city. Everyone who ever talked bad about Danny is going to eat their words." Another boy, younger than Drake, it sounded like, announces holding up a tablet.

Drake takes it, considering the screen before gesturing for them to move. "Good job, team. By this time tomorrow, the world will never look at the Waynes the same again."

The group parts allow Drake to stride forward, and the door slams down again, leaving Dick to remain in his only source of light.

He sits there in confusion, wondering what the hell Drake was going on about. Obviously, Danny is facing justice for what he has done. Where else could he be?

It's not like people just vanish from government custody.

Did they?

A small horrifying thought starts to take root in Dick's mind as he carefully feels around his restraints, hoping to escape them.

What if Crowne was never the one selling the kids? What if someone else had framed him, and now that Dick had exposed him, they had chosen to silence him?

What if….Dick truly killed the man he loved?

Or what if Drake had it all wrong and was brainwashed like Harley Quinn with the Joker? How else would Crowne know to put policies that ensure the children were not found the moment he was captured? And what were they planning to do to the Waynes?

There were too many questions, not enough answers, and not nearly enough reassurance that everything would work out. For the first time in days, motivation and intent lit in Dick, and the broken-hearted man was gone.

Now, all that was left was one of the greatest heroes in the world, and he was ready to figure out what the hell was going on. He needed to get out of here.

He needed to find Crowne, there was obviously more then met the eye.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Morgana AU Pt 8

To Kara's lack of surprise, Gwen comes with them to Tol.

When Morgana looks at her with doubt in her eyes, Gwen merely gazes back.

"The last time you tried to change Camelot, I couldn't follow you," she says firmly. "Now I can-- with a full heart."

Together with the druids they'd been captured with, they journey to their new home. At first, it is no different from when they had lived in the woods, but soon huts are erected, providing not only shelter, but homes. In the early weeks, they live on edge, waiting for the eventual attack to come-- but their days and nights remain peaceful.

Before long, their settlement puts down roots-- healers build their stores of herbs, weavers erect looms, and no one feels like running anymore.

One day, Kara finds Morgana gazing out across their home, her features thoughtful. Kara comes to stand beside her, and finally nudges her playfully.

"You did this," she points out. "You took a risk."

"Someone had to. We couldn't continue as we were. Not if we were to survive."

"More will come, when they hear of what you've built." Kara looks at her friend. "Are you ready for what's to come?"

Morgana exhales. "I'll have to be."

---

It was never an if, but a when that Lena and their friends would come for Kara. So when a swirling portal opens up on the outskirts of their settlement in Tol, months later, it's less of a surprise than an eventuality.

All but Kara, Morgana and Gwen flee, leaving just the three of them to greet the figure that steps out of thin air.

Lena's eyes lock on Kara. She visibly exhales in relief as Kara surges towards her, and grips her just as tight when Kara wraps her arms around her.

"How long has it been?" Kara mutters.

"Nine days," Lena returns, a murmur into Kara's shoulder.

This time it's Kara's turn to sigh with relief. "Good. I haven't missed much."

Lena chokes out a laugh, pulling away slightly.

"No, but I certainly have," she says, tugging lightly on Kara's hair, now many inches longer than when Lena last saw her. Finally, Lena's gaze pulls from Kara to regard the two figures behind her.

"Friends?"

Kara nods. "Friends."

"I'm sorry," Lena tells her. "But the portal won't remain stable for long--"

"I know." She doesn't know how Lena managed to generate the tech, or how she was located, in just nine days-- another one of Lena's miracles. "But I have a moment?"

Lena nods. "Yeah," she whispers.

Kara reluctantly parts from her, letting their fingers trail apart, and makes her way back to Gwen and Morgana.

"We knew this was coming," Gwen says tearfully, "but I suppose part of me hoped it wouldn't."

"You'll be okay," Kara tells her firmly. She glances at Morgana. "Both of you will be."

"Hope, help, and compassion for all, even to the last."

Kara jerks-- she hasn't uttered those words since she found herself in this time and place. There's no conceivable way Morgana could know them-- save if she was seeing more in her dreams than she let on.

Morgana smirks.

Kara fights the urge to roll her eyes, and takes Morgana's hand.

"I'm proud of you," she says. "Don't ever lose sight of the people who love you."

"And you," Morgana returns, nodding towards where Lena stands, watching.

Gwen smiles softly. "She must love you dearly, to come all this way." Her eyes are warm when she gazes up at Kara. "Be well, Kara."

Kara nods. "I will."

[gatoburr0]

I HATE how this turned out WITH A PASSION.

[territorial-utopia]

Oh hey look another wip from like, 2022 that I never shared 8,D So here's the next one in my animation study series where I try to copy a piece of animation I like (but use my own characters as the models instead)

Anyway, they're dumb, they're idiots, they're in love.

[crawlingdrawing]

The Cage - Chapter Nine, part one

<- previous next ->

master post

Finally here.

[mobius-m-mobius]

I can rewrite the story.

Loki 1x01 // 2x05

[moonstoneraven]

the hat man 2

[starry-bi-sky]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

And they fall back into silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[wellcollapse]

the way i would pay for oliver to write meta about buck's character

[a-strange-inkling]

Third Part��

A faint sad sob is his only reply and it’s another blow to the spike wedged in his heart. Contrite, but determined, he risks lifting his palm to caress her face, praying she’ll let him. He needs to touch her more, he needs to fix this. “Oh, sweet girl…” he cajoles gently, leaning down and gingerly kissing her cool cheeks, catching some of her salty tears on his tongue. She wordlessly drops her head to the side against the pillow. Half there. Half hidden. “My sweet girl.”

Mine. Still mine.

Please still be mine.

He keeps pressing desperate little kisses across her face. She’s not stopping him… but she’s still cold and quiet, her wet eyes seared shut as the tears continue to spill out of her.

“Talk to me, please—” He kisses her eyelids beseechingly, her little nose, just the corner of her lip. When she sighs, so does he. “Talk to me, sweetheart, you can tell me. Anything. Tell me anything.” Thankfully, he can feel her slowly beginning to warm up beneath his weight. Soften. He pushes up her bangs and drags his lips over the side of her brow, cradling her skull tenderly. “Tell me what’s going on in there.”

She only whimpers and it’s the sweetest, saddest sound in the whole world.

“You still mad at me? Huh?” he asks, voice thickening. He can’t swallow. “You hate me?”

She shakes her head, curling up tighter. He thinks he hears a teeny, petulant no under her breath but he can’t be sure. “It’s okay, kinda hate me too right now… I hurt you and made you cry…now you won’t talk to me… won’t look at me…and I can’t…I can’t sleep or eat or do anything, Chrissy, can’t… not without you...”

He silences the moment her damp lashes flutter open, those huge midnight eyes of hers glistening in the darkness as she turns back to face him.

“I…” She struggles, but she can’t get it out, her wind chime voice just a rasp. “I’m…”

“What, baby? What is it?” He breathes, his heart swelling painfully in his chest with exhilaration that she’s trying. “Tell me.”

He watches as she battles with the words in her head. Stuck on her tongue. “I’m just so…”

“Angry?” he asks patiently, letting his nose skim along hers.

She shakes her head again, overwhelmed, her gaze faltering to find shelter elsewhere in the darkness of the room.

He hesitates, just for a second before whispering. “…Scared?”

Her eyes jump back up to him just before her face crumples. Startled, he moves quickly to hold her together as she lets out a pitiful little cry. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t…” Please, don’t. Don’t cry anymore. “What are you scared of?”

The question seems to pain her almost as her bottom lip falls shakily. His chest tightens up. He can hear it even though she can’t say it. They’re the same. Underneath everything, they’re exactly the same. “…That I’ll leave?”

She nods brokenly, closing her eyes again, succumbing to her heartache. Eddie can feel his whole frame shaking. It hurts. It hurts like hell. Takes him back to the boat house when he thought he lost her… when he ran away and left her behind… when he laid there on the cold hard floorboards crying for her.

“Chrissy…no…” he chokes out. “I’d die.”

I’d die.

She’d said the same thing to him a little over a year ago. Eddie had finally broken down and began sobbing in her arms after it was all over, holding her around her tight, swollen belly. His fathers words were cold and heavy against his chest, crushing him to death. His old man had wormed his way under his skin and into his brain, somehow finding his deepest darkest fear and driving a sharp icepick straight through it the way only Robbie can.

Losing her. Again.

“She’ll leave you, you know?”

He could see it all too clearly. Waking up one morning or walking through the front door after work to find her gone. All her things, her little touches that made their shitty apartment warm and soft, made it a home, gone. Empty. And Livvy. She’d take Livvy with her before he’d even meet her. She wouldn’t know him. She wouldn’t know her daddy. The scene replayed in his head, over and over again, it was all closing in on him, like a dark omen on the horizon. Inevitable. Because he was a Munson, he was Robbie’s kid, and he was going to fuck up enough one day that she’d run away, go back to her parents or find someone else that could give her and Livvy what he couldn’t. The life they deserved.

And thus, he sat there at the end of their bed and he bawled his eyes out like a fucking baby, his head pressed against where he could feel their daughter moving inside her as if she could somehow feel his pain and distress and was trying to reach through the thin barrier and touch him. And he begged, eyes and nose running down his face into the loose fabric of her dress. “Don’t leave me, p-please—d-don’t leave me. I’m sorry. Don’t leave me. Don’t let me go.”

And she didn’t. Even after everything. After he shut down on her when she was days away from giving birth to their baby, when she needed him most. She held him between her hands like he was something precious, her fingers in his hair, moving soothingly through his roots just like his mother used to do when he’d cry as a kid. “Never.” she said so quietly and lovingly his heart soared from under the rubble he was buried under. “Never ever… Eddie, I’d die without you.”

“Look at me,” he says, looking her dead in the eye, holding her gaze so she can’t hide from him anymore. Can’t mistake him. “I’d die, baby.” He says again, finding her mouth in the dark warmth between them and closing his lips over hers. Fuck it. He doesn’t care. Nikky Summers, Jason Carver and everyone the fuck else be damned.

He’s kissing his wife.

Fight over.

He hums lowly, starved of her taste after three days of cold shoulder hell. She gasps in reply, her lips wet and soft and perfect. Kissing her has always been as natural as breathing and he feels like he’s been on a fucking respirator. He kisses her slow and deep until her gentle little sobs quiet, till she gives herself over to him. Letting him in. It’s not till he’s pulled away that he realizes he’s crying now too.

“I d-didn’t mean it, what I said,” she says at last, barely audible, a shy, delicate hand rising to carefully wipe away his tears. “I didn’t mean it like you—”

“I know,” he consoles thickly, ashamed because he did know and she tried to tell him. She tried to tell him how she was hurting inside and he went and lost it. He turns and kisses her palm. “I know, it just freaked me out, baby.”

It fucking decimated him.

“Sometimes… I feel like I don’t belong with you.”

It was a crack to the skull. His vision had gone white. And for a moment there was nothing at all.

Just the void.

Everything he said after that… it was all pain and anger and fear until she finally walked away from him.

“I’m sorry.” More tears begin to well in the corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

He doesn't want to go back there. He wants to stay here where they’re warm and safe. Where he’s holding her. “No, don’t, it wasn’t you… it was me… I wasn’t listening.”

“I m-meant that you belong with… you deserve someone stronger...better.” Her voice trembles as she says it. “I feel like I’m holding you back—”

“Jesus Christ.” Annoyed, he gives her another kiss, this one a little more rough. She’s so stupid sometimes. “Chrissy. Holding me back? Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you… you’ve given up everything for me and I still can’t give you all the things I want to—”He just keeps kissing her, he can’t stop. “You were right, about everything, I was being an idiot…I wanted to brag, prove I made something of myself, that I was—I was someone worth losing.”

“Eddie, you are,” she whispers softly, touching his hair. “You’ve always been. You don’t see how special you are and when this takes off—”

“If it takes off.” he mutters quietly.

“When it takes off,” she says again assuredly. “Everyone’s going to see you, and they’re going to love you, and I’m afraid that Livvy and I won’t be enough any—”

“Don’t.” He warns, blood racing hot to his throat. The vision of the cold and empty apartment resurfacing behind his eyes, her doubt searing over his chest like a laceration m. How could she ever think that of him? That he could leave her? Leave their baby? “Don’t you ever say anything like that. Ever.”

She winces, pursing her lips and squeezing her eyes shut.

Eddie inhales deeply, admonishing himself for snapping at her again. He’s not being fair. He told her that she could tell him anything. That she could let him in. And… he gets it, he does, it’s not like she goes by unseen by the many admiring eyes on campus. Two thousand, four hundred and eighteen college fuckers on average surrounding her everyday with way more stability and advantages than he’s ever dreamed of… he always thought that was way worse than some groupies at a concert. But after the disaster that happened at the bar, he realized how fucking immature that was. He rubs his hand up along her ribcage apologetically, his gaze softening. He waits till she relaxes beneath his ministrations before speaking again.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re scared and I’m not trying to belittle that, I get scared too.” He knows well enough that someone can look up at him on stage and see his gifts and his talent just as everyone used to only see his failings and still not really see him. Know him. Love him. She’s the only one who’s seen everything. All of him. And still wanted him. “But, it’s you, you know it’s you, no one was ever even close and no one ever will be,” his voice cracks, forehead falling against hers when he meets her starry, shaky gaze. “You’ve always been in here, long before I even realized, no matter what I did, who I was with.” He brings her hand to his chest, holding it there. “You’re it for me, you and Livvy, till the day I die… I’m here. Right here. I’m not going anywhere. Understand? You’re never getting rid of me.”

She nods with a small hiccup, and he can see the slow relief in her eyes. She believes him.

His eyes trail over her slowly, his thumb tracing over her lips. “I think it just hurts me sometimes… because I know for you… it wasn’t always me.”

“Eddie…”

Could we have a oneshot about in OH universe Jealous!Chrissy X Paige X Eddie :D We've seen his reaction about Jason but we never see Chrissy's about Eddie's old hook up's or exes <3

Hi! I’d love to write something like that, but I probably won’t implement Paige or any Flight of Icarus to the Old Haunts universe until I’ve read the book. I want to get a feel of her character first before deciding. But, Eddie’s got enough flings pre 1986, so they definitely run into one or two of his exes and hookups over the years, so we’ll see her reaction to that.

For the most part, especially by 1995, they don’t really get too jealous, they never give one another a reason to be. It does happen, they’re human, but there’s this deep level of trust and loyalty to one another. Jason, of course, popping up at Laura’s funeral is a special case in more ways than one.

Kind of related (not really, sorry, but it’s something 😭) I have bits of a not fully conceptualized oneshot exploring their jealousy and how they’re both so different handling it. It’s during one of their biggest fights while living in Chicago, they’re both still young and Eddie’s career is picking up and Chrissy’s going through one of her low times. It roots up Eddie’s jealousy of watching Chrissy with Jason from afar for three years and Chrissy’s the more she learns about the girls he’s been with (some she even remembers/noticed him with in high school 🤭)

Eddie’s more outwardly jealous between the two, running hot and loud (as we’ve seen). He stews internally until he eventually erupts. Whereas, Chrissy gets quiet and depressed, she’ll go into her own head and clam up tight. Which honestly drives Eddie crazy, especially the silent treatment. He’d rather she stab him in the foot or something than not talk to him. With all her insecurities and self deprecation, it’s way too easy for her to think that he won’t want her anymore and leave her for someone more beautiful and exciting. It’s been locked in her whole life by her mother and it’s a hard thing to work past for her.

Here’s a bit of it:

1989

Chicago, Illinois

He’s slumped on the couch watching the moving shadows from the traffic lights outside faze over the ceiling, one leg hanging over the edge, swinging back and forth in slow simmering agitation.

It’s dumb. He’s not really waiting up for her, it’s like only four minutes after eight when he hears her unlock the front door. She said she’d be out till around eight thirty so she’s actually early. He hasn’t even put Livvy to bed yet. She’s on her tummy, chewing on her rubber panda in her playpen. She seems content, but she knows something is amiss, she keeps glancing up at him with her big chocolate eyes in a ‘You alright over there?´ sort of way. She’s already asked like six times for the last three hours her mother’s been away.

“Otay Daddy?”

“Yeah, I’m okay, bug.”

“You otay?”

“I’m okay.”

…

“Otay, Daddy?”

“I’m fine, baby.”

…

“Daddy sad?”

“No, I’m not sad, Livvy.”

“Otay.”

“Thanks for checking.”

…

“…Daddy otay?”

“Yes! Yes! Daddy is okay, Olivia!”

“Otay.”

He glances at Chrissy when she steps inside, hoping maybe her spirits are a little lifted with some time away to clear her head. Nancy’s in town, so Robin and Vickie picked her up so they all could go out for dinner and drinks. She keeps her back to him while she hangs her keys.

“Hi.” he greets.

“Hi.” she answers tonelessly, not meeting his gaze when she turns around.

Eddie wilts, if anything, she looks even more upset. God, did she tell them? Did they spend the whole night dissecting the situation? Why is Nancy always around when he fucks up?

“So uh how was it?”

“Fine.” she replies faintly.

God. Just fucking kill him now. He hates this.

She’s not even dressed all that wild, maybe a little more sexy than usual, with the strapless floral blue dress that shows off her legs with an oversize jean jacket and her heels. Jesus God! It doesn’t matter, Chrissy could be wearing an old potato bag and she’d still get attention. He can only imagine how many stupid fucking frat boys hit on her tonight and after the incident she probably let a few of them too.

Okay fine… she wouldn’t do that, no matter how angry she is with him… but they still would try and his red hot jealousy is still flaring at just the idea of it. It only makes it worse that she’s not vying for a reaction. Not trying to get back at him.

“How’s the girls?” he asks.

“Good.” She supplies, walking past him toward their daughter. Livvy climbs up quickly to her feet using the railing of her playpen, reaching for her to pick her up.

“Hi Mama! Mama!” she exclaims in delight, turning to Eddie. “Mama home!”

“I see her, bug.” His smile is a little tight as he tries to catch her eyes, tries to reach her.

“Hi, sweetie,” Chrissy sings gently with a little smile, lifting their toddler up in her arms and walking toward the bathroom, leaving him alone to pout after her in the small living space. “Were you a good girl?”

“Yea!”

“Good.”

“Missed you, Mama,” Livvy continues to babble, leaning her head against her shoulder. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” Chrissy replies, letting her sit on the counter of the sink to watch her take off her makeup.

Eddie rises to his feet with a long sigh and follows, scratching the back of his neck as he comes to stand in the entrance, leaning against the frame.

“Pwetty,” Livvy reaches up to touch her face in marvel, her dark eyes fixated on her. “Pwetty, pwetty, pwetty,” her little fingers pet her golden waves. Chrissy’s smile is melancholy as she kisses her forehead.

“Thank you, baby.”

She is pretty, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, he wants to tell her that. She still hasn’t looked at him, keeping her gaze on her reflection as she cleans off her eye shadow and mascara.

“Mama sad.” Livvy says, studying her. “Sad Mama?”

“I’m okay, Livvy,” she tells her, giving her a bigger smile, but it still doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Mama sad.” His little girl snaps her head at him sharply, eyes big and worried. What did you do? Fix it!

“I’m trying, bug,” he breathes out. “Mama’s not talking to me.”

Chrissy looks skyward in mild irritation, lashes fluttering closed. She leans down to rinse her face.

“Talk Mama?” Livvy turns back to Chrissy, tugging at her dress. “Talk?”

“…Not tonight, baby,” she sighs, picking her back up. “Too tired.”

“Tired?” she repeats in contemplation. “Bed time?”

Chrissy hums a little yeah as she turns, waiting expectantly for Eddie to move out of her way.

He doesn’t.

“Tired, Daddy.” Olivia informs him from where she sits on her hip. “Mama tired, bedtime”

He gives his little intercessor a sad half smile. “Thanks anyway, baby girl.” She tried her best for him. “Chrissy…”

“I’m going to put her down for the night.” she informs him, eyes on his shoulder.

“…Okay.” He touches the bend of her arm, looking for her again, but she’s always been much too good at hiding from him when she wants to. “I mean, I can, if you want to change or—”

“No, I want to.” she whispers, pushing gently past him.

Give her space.

She said she wanted space.

[kwillow]

What kind of sound are Theo's... noises... intended to be? Snorts? Mouth sounds? Choking sounds? Stuffy nose sounds? I feel like I imagine them as a different thing every time I read them lol

Almost all of the above, really! Nasally grunts, snorts, whines, growls, guttural noises that sound like he's clearing his throat or choking on his own air... Theo makes all manner of noises. Not on purpose.

His "noises" are unconscious vocalizations most of the time. They're akin to vocal tics. The utterances are louder, more pronounced and more frequent the more stressed he is. It takes quite a bit of effort and discomfort to suppress his noises once he feels the urge brewing (if he even catches it in time, because most of the time he isn't even fully aware that he's doing it). He does his utmost to keep them choked down, but to his embarrassment, some grunts and gags always slip through.

Also, often his laugh can sound like "a noise" since it can be more of a gargling wheeze than a proper expression of mirth. His smoking habit hasn't helped the, er, phlegminess of its sound.

A counterpoint to his common stress-sounds is his habit of making quiet humming noises when he's feeling contented and relaxed. He only does it when in exceedingly good spirits - so as you might imagine, he hasn't had much cause to hum in many years.

[ybetzarts]

from TW: Dude feels he doesnt fit in the fancy restos; he knew it aint for him, but he still tries. Rouge suggested they order takeouts instead and go stay somewhere else...The M.E. shrine was her idea

[dandelion-roots]

No matter what you do, you just can't shake him off, can you, Chūya?

[lyrics: Florence + the Machine | id in alt]

EDIT: I made a whole ass janky animatic to this song, enjoy!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 2 - Psyche Skills

Part 1 - Part 3

[late-draft]

Just sharing some process and colour experiments.

[critai]

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