#all she's going to have forever are nightmares then

[trevorsgodmother]

𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓻…(C.S 🌧)-pt. 2

ALL PARTS Warnings: Angst, CRYING, denial, heavy descriptions, mentions of accident, yelling POV: Third person/first person(Chris) Summary: Y/N's been gone for so long...but Chris still isn't used to it

It feels like he’s been laying here, with her, for years. Chris looks down at his girlfriend, smiling. But the sight of her eyes filling up wipes the look off his face. His heart clenches as he hugs her tighter, hoping his warmth will sooth her. 

“Babe…what’s wrong?” He asks, concern filling his features. She locks eyes with him, and sobs, burying her face into his chest.  “Chris…stop doing this. Please. STOP” He flinches at her hurt and accusatory tone. Anxiety fills his stomach as he tries to make sense of her words. Stop doing what? 

“What’re you talkin-” “Stop dreaming about me. Please.” His face crumples, and tears begin to sting his eyes too.  “I can’t-” “Why?” She chokes out, gripping his shirt like a lifeline, more to help ground him than her. “I just-” Chris’ breathing picks up, his eyes overflowing. He doesn’t want to wake up and lose her again…

“I don’t want you to go...”

"You need to Chris. For you. For me. Go find a new girlfriend or something" Her voice breaks even suggesting this. He didn’t want to. He never wanted to move on. It would feel like he was being unfaithful, since they hadn’t broken up before she died. It had been a freak accident on the highway, one he felt guilt for every day of his life. Chris tries to convince himself that it's only his subconscious trying to help him. But it's her face, her voice, her smell, her... everything, and he feels awful for doing something he can't control.

A smile forms on her wet face as she lifts a hand to brush away his tears. “I only want you, not anyone else.” He’s almost pleading. For her to come back, into his arms, both their happy places. “I’m not there though Chris…” she whispers softly. His body shakes with silent sobs, holding her tighter as if it’ll change everything and this time, he’ll wake up with her still there.

“I don’t want to go on- I miss you so much-” “Do you want me to stop coming at night?” Her words make him freeze. He’s clinging onto her like a scared child, almost to a point of desperation.

“No- no, please don’t. Don’t leave me-”

(Chris' POV)

I jolt awake, head pounding as I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Matt and Nick, the prior being the owner of the hand, the latter with tears in his eyes. “Chris… are you ok? You were crying so loud” His words make me wince, guilt hitting me right in the stomach. My body couldn’t tell the difference between my dreams and reality anymore, so the emotions I felt in my nightmares sometimes came out in my sleep.

I cover my face with my hands, letting out silent sobs. I couldn’t bear to see my brothers so upset. Because of me. I shake my head, the dream still so clear in my mind. A part of me just wanted to sleep forever, to escape this world just so I could see her again. “I’m sorry- I just- I just miss her” I let Matt hug me, feeling like a broken record because of these increasingly realistic night terrors. “We need to stop these dreams…” I instantly recoil at my brother’s mumble. I shake my head harder than before. It felt like everyone was suddenly telling me to stop. “No, I don’t want to.” My words are firm, but my voice wavers. Matt’s expression softens.

“Chris, they’re destroying you. Besides, you know it’s not actually…her, right?” Nick’s in the background, wiping his eyes. I nod slowly, my eyes filling up again. It’s like I had an infinite supply of tears, I always had enough to cry. The dreams had become a way for me to cope, and the thought of the emptiness I would feel if I didn’t have them made me sick.

(Third person) “I know, but- But I still want to see her, even if it isn’t really her. I don’t care…” Matt’s patience reaches its limit. Yes, he felt horrible for his brother, yes, he would never know what he felt, yes he was suffering, but-

“Chris” He snaps. He��s tired of it. Anytime they’d come up with a solution, it’s like the youngest triplet would shoot it down just for the sake of it. Which of course wasn’t the case. Chris flinches at his tone, suddenly quietening down and fiddling with his blanket. Matt’s gaze softens and his shoulders droop at the sight. Nick is standing there, shocked that his brother just yelled at their younger one. “We’ll be right back” Nick murmurs angrily, grabbing Matt’s arm and dragging him outside. Chris only hears half the berating and cursing Nick directs towards his older brother. He just lays back down, not wanting to hear anymore fighting, and tries to go back to sleep.

But he can’t. After countless minutes of tossing and turning, his brothers having left to go back upstairs, he sits up and grabs his phone. This was another definitely unhealthy coping mechanism, but he doesn’t care anymore. He tries to veer off his usual path of clicking into the photo’s app, ping-ponging through different socials that had been long abandoned. He grows frustrated of the no-longer entertaining doom-scrolling, and gives in. As the pictures load, he navigates onto the home screen and clicks on her album.

(Chris' POV)

She’s grinning in all of them, some alone, others with me and friends. I scroll through each picture, my face softening at the familiar face and smile I’d loved for years. I spend a little more time studying pictures of us two, grabbing on each other, laughing, kissing, enjoying being with each other. It was hard to accept the fact that she was no longer here, that the life in the pictures had been taken away from her and was slowly being drained from me. I pause on some pictures she sent me a week before the accident. She’s posing in some of her new clothes, looking proud of her purchases. So vibrant and energetic, a light overshadowing everything else in the room. A fresh wave of grief washes over me as I swallow a sob. She looked so happy…

I try swiping more, but to my horror, I can’t. That’s it. A beautiful life on her own, a 3-year friendship with all three of us, then a 2 year relationship with me, all narrowed down to just a few hundred photos. The finality of it all hits me hard, the full realisation that I’d never take another picture of her, get daily outfit pics, make more memories. She was gone and this was all I had left. The last pieces of her, and it would never be enough. It hits too hard.

I don’t realise that I’ve started crying again until Nick runs back in, my mattress dipping under the weight as he hugs me to his chest. I melt into the hug, cries increasing in volume now that I was being comforted. I grip onto him tightly, as if letting go would mean he disappeared too. I know I don’t show it enough, but they’re the only things grounding me now. My sobs slowly begin to subside, though a few still escape here and there as I try to catch my breath. I grip onto Nick just a little more, needing contact. After a moment, I manage to speak with a rough and broken voice. “I- I’m sorry.” Nick hated hearing me apologise.

“Shhh, don’t say sorry, we’re not mad.” “Are you sure?” I ask quietly, looking up with tired, teary eyes. “Yes. We can’t be. And we never will. None of this is your fault, ok?” I just nod, my lips trembling slightly as I try to swallow down another sob. Deep down, I know what happened isn’t my fault, it was just a horrible misfortune. But I can’t help the guilt that eats away at me, for surviving when she didn’t, for going on with life when hers was cut short in an instant. I look back down, the weight of it all making my head feel fuzzy and heavy.  

Nick interrupts what was about to be another downwards spiral. “Me and Matt talked…and we want you to sleep in one of our rooms again. Not every night, and only if you want. It doesn’t matter who’s. Or we could sleep in yours? Do you want to do that?” I’m a little quiet for a moment. The thought of sleeping in the same room as someone else, for the first time in 3 months, was a little daunting. But it would be comforting and help me feel less alone at nighttime. My voice cracks, and Nick’s face lights up in shock and slight excitement as I speak.

“Yea…I think I’d like that.”

A/N: Extra long bc I felt bad for leaving this for two weeks. I already have the last sentence of the last part planned heehee Taglist: @hearts4werka @stvrnzcherries @m00nl1ghts1vt @spaghetti835928383 @pvssychicken @moonlightsturns @snowysosturn

Don't steal MWAAAHHHHH Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws <3 -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

[winchesterwild78]

Unspoken Words pt 6

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, other characters

Warnings: fluff, attempted kidnapping, anxiety, almost smut, nightmares

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about a single mother with a nonverbal autistic daughter who loves Supernatural. The reader is going to a Supernatural Convention with her daughter and things unfold from there. The daughter character is near and dear to my heart. I have someone very close to me who is nonverbal, but he’s such an amazing kid. 

*This series is about to wrap up. Enjoy one of the last few chapters.*

This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Jensen is single in this story. 

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next day after the post from Jensen about our relationship, he suggested I put my profile private or create a public one. He said most of the cast have two, one for the fans and one for friends and family. 

He showed me his personal profile and I chuckled. “I had no idea you had a secret account. Now I see why you don’t post all the time.” 

He laughed, “Yeah. I guess I didn’t forget my password after all.” He winked.

I wanted to take advantage of the nice day and take Lily to the park. Jensen’s interior designer and her team were going by his house today, so we needed to pass some time. 

Jensen helped me load up the car and get Lily ready. She clung to his neck as he carried her to the car. 

“Jensen, you know she can walk.” I laughed as I saw him carrying her. “Yeah I know, but she needs to save her energy for the park.” 

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Uhhuh, okay.” 

Jensen put Lily in the car and we both climbed in. Putting the car in drive we headed toward the park and Jensen took my hand in his. 

“First time out since we went public, are you ready for this?” I took a shaky breath, “Yeah. I’m ready.” 

Arriving at the park I noticed a lot of people there. I got Lily out and held her hand. Jensen grabbed the bag. 

I noticed a few stares and some pictures taken of us. I tried to shield Lily. 

A few people approached Jensen and asked for pictures and he was polite. “Sure, just please keep her out of the pictures. We don’t want her face all over the internet.” I smiled. He was talking about Lily. 

A little girl ran up to us and squealed, calling Lily’s name. “Lily!” It was a little girl from her class, Tara. “Well hey, Tara. How are you? Where’s your mama?” “Hey Ms Y/N. Mama’s over there.”

She pointed to the bench near the swings. “Can Lily go play with me?” She asked. I nodded, “Yeah. Y’all stay close.” 

Jensen and I walked over to Tara’s mom. When she saw me she jumped up and hugged me. “Hey, Y/N! I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?” 

I smiled, “I’ve been good. Tara just grabbed Lily. They took off to play. Jessica I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Jensen. Jensen, this is Jessica. Tara’s mother.” 

She blushed and smiled. “Nice to meet you Jensen. I’ve been a fan for years.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Jessica.” 

The three of us sat on the bench chatting and watching the girls play. 

I lost sight of the girls for a moment and started to panic a bit, but they both came into sight and I relaxed. 

Jensen put his hand on my leg and leaned in. “She’s okay, baby. I can see her.” I nodded. 

I wanted Lily to play like a regular child, but I often worried due to her lack of vocabulary. Tara had always been so sweet to Lily and was a great friend to her. I was so grateful for her. 

A few minutes later Tara came running up, panic in her voice. “Mama, Ms Y/N a man grabbed Lily. She tried to get away but he grabbed her.” 

Before I could react Jensen was off the bench and on the other side of the playground. He heard Lily scream. “Dada!” He saw her reaching out for him and being carried away by a man. 

Jensen grabbed the man and pulled Lily from his arms. 

I ran to his side and grabbed Lily and Jensen punched the guy in the face. He subdued him until the cops came. 

I gasped when I realized who it was, David. I saw red. “David?! What the fuck were you trying to do?!” 

I punched him in the face and the cops pulled me back. “Ma’am you have to calm down.” “Like hell I will. This asshole tried to kidnap my daughter. He better be glad all I did was punch him in the face.” 

Jensen pulled me into his arms, holding Lily and I both. “Baby, come on. We don’t need you to go to jail either.” 

Lily was shaking and crying. Jensen pulled her into his arms, “Come here baby girl. I’ve got you. You’re safe, baby.”

The police let us go after taking our statements. They charged David with attempted kidnapping. He tried to protest and tell the cops she’s his daughter. I told them he’s not on her birth certificate and he hasn’t been in her life at all. The police said since he doesn’t have custody it’s still considered kidnapping, so they took him to jail. 

Jensen took us back to his house and made lunch. Lily was still shaken and I was filled with rage and fear. 

Jensen leaned down and kissed my lips. “Hey, look at me. She’s safe, okay.” 

I looked up at him and softly smiled, “I know and it’s because of you. You ran and got to her in time. Jensen I don’t know how to thank you for that. I don’t know what I would have done if he took her.” 

He cupped my face, “Baby you don’t have to worry about that anymore. You and Lily mean everything to me and I’ll always protect you two. I love you both. I love her like she’s my own and I would have walked through hell to keep her safe. Now come on, let’s show our baby girl her new bedroom. It’s ready.” 

I smiled, kissed his lips and nodded. 

“Hey Lily, your new bed is here. Do you want to take a look at it?” Jensen asked with a grin. She squealed and leaped into Jensen’s arms. 

We walked to her room and when Jensen opened the door I gasped. Her brand new bedroom set was there, along with a gorgeous pink area rug and Jensen had a mural painted on the wall to make it look like the carriage was on its way to the castle. Inside the closet was every princess dress and accessory you could think of and there was a white and pink vanity in the corner. 

“Jensen, this is too much. I can’t believe you did this for her.” He smiled and I swear he puffed out his chest a little with pride. “Nope, it's not too much. It’s perfect for my baby girl. She’s a princess and deserves a princess room.” 

Lily squealed and started playing with the new toys and clothes. Jensen snaked his arms around me and pulled my back flush to his chest. 

“Jensen, this is amazing. You’re amazing. She’s never going to want to leave here now.” He kissed the side of my head, “Well maybe she doesn’t have to.” 

I turned and looked at him. “What?” “Why don’t you two move in with me. I have a great security system, Lily has her new room, and you can decorate our room however you want.” 

I bit my lip, “I don’t know Jensen. That’s a big deal. Can I think about it?” “Of course darlin’. Are you two still going to California with me?” 

I nodded, “Yeah. I think after all of this it’ll be good to get away for a bit.” Jensen held me tight, “Good. I can’t wait, and we can see what it’s like living together while we are there and you can use that to help with your decision.” “Good thinking, Jensen.” I kissed his lips and he deepened the kiss. 

Lily was lost in her own world playing in her room. Jensen and I left after a few minutes and headed back downstairs. 

He was due back in California in two days, so he looked at adding Lily and I to his flight. Lily had never been on a plane and I was worried. Jensen worked his magic and was able to secure two tickets in first class on the same flight he was on. 

“Jensen, we don’t need first class.” I huffed. He cupped my face, “Baby, you and Lily deserve so much and this way I can be there to help you with her on the plane.” I nodded, “Okay, but you’ve got to stop spending so much money on us. It’s not right.” 

He looked at me, green eyes full of love, “Baby, if we were married it would be our money, not mine. Please let me take care of you two.” 

I placed my hands on his chest, “Jensen I just don’t want you to spend so much on us. I’m not used to this, and if I’m being honest it scares me. I don’t want you or anyone to think I’m with you for your money.” 

He placed a soft kiss on my lips, “Baby, I don’t think that and screw what everyone else thinks.” I chuckled, “Okay, but please try to stop.” 

He smirked, “I can’t make any promises, sweetheart. Hey, I have an idea. Since we head out in a few days, why don’t you and Sarah go out for a girls night.” 

I smiled, “I’d love that, Jensen, but what about Lily? I can’t ask Annie to watch her on short notice.” “I’ll watch her. She can stay here with me and when you get back you and I can have some alone time.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. 

“If you’re sure. I’ll see if she’s able to go out tonight.” He pulled me close, “I’m sure baby. You go have some fun and I’ll be waiting for you.” 

I called Sarah and she was excited about going out. I got ready and told Lily I was going out with Aunt Sarah and she was staying with Jensen. 

“Dada?” “Yes, baby. You’re staying with dada.” It made my heart swell anytime she called Jensen dada. Part of me hoped he’d want the job. 

Walking downstairs Jensen saw me and whistled. “Damn I’m one lucky man. You look amazing, baby.” My cheeks flushed red, “Thank you Jensen.” 

Sarah rang the doorbell and Jensen answered it. She took one look at me and gasped, “Damn girl. Love looks good on you.” I shook my head and giggled pulling her into a hug. 

“Are you ready?” I asked her as I grabbed my stuff. “Yep.” I hugged Lily goodbye and gave Jensen a kiss. 

“Go have fun, and don’t worry about us. We will be fine.” I nodded and Sarah and I left. 

The uber brought me home about 1am and I toptoed in the house. When I walked in I noticed the television was on, the volume was low. 

Walking over to the couch I saw Jensen laying on his back, one arm under his head and the other holding Lily. She was snuggled up next to him with her squirrel and moose stuffy. 

My heart swelled. Then I saw a picture Lily drew. She drew a picture of Me, her, and Jensen and we were all holding hands. At the top she wrote “mama, dada, Lily”. 

I snapped a picture of the two of them. I didn’t think I could love him more, but seeing him holding her and protecting her made my heart so full. 

Jensen stirred and his green eyes fluttered open. I smiled softly at him. “Hey baby. Let me take her to bed.” I kissed his lips and picked up Lily, carrying her to her bedroom. 

I turned on the lamp Jensen bought her and it filled the room with a soft pink light. I chuckled, she definitely has him wrapped around her finger. 

Walking back downstairs I found Jensen sitting up and waiting for me.

“Did you have a good time, sweetheart?” I sat beside him, “Yeah I did. Did you?” “Yeah, we had a great time. Lily told me she wants you two to move in here with me so we can be a real family.” 

I smirked, “Oh did she now? She said all that to you?” He laughed, “Yeah, she did. See, look at the picture she drew. It’s proof.” 

I took the paper in hand, “Yeah, I see it. Come on, let’s go to bed.” 

He locked up the house and the two of us went to our bedroom. 

Closing the bedroom door, Jensen’s arms snaked around my body and turned me to face him. His lips ghosted mine, “I want you baby.” 

I smiled, “I’m all yours.” Jensen guided me back to the bed and laid me down slowly. His lips never leaving mine. 

He hovered over me, his strong arms caging me between him and the bed. I looked up into his eyes and saw so much love it made my breath hitch. 

His hand softly touched my face, “I love you so much, Y/N.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. Tears pricked my eyes and slowly fell.

“Hey, shh. What’s wrong baby?” His thumb wiped the tears away. I bit my lip, “I’m sorry, Jensen. I’m just so in love with you. These aren’t sad tears. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, what I did to deserve your love, but I’m so thankful I did it. I never thought I’d meet a man like you, let alone someone who accepted Lily and loved her too.” 

He smiled, “Hey, you both have me forever. I’m not going anywhere.” 

I chuckled, “Great, you were trying to have sex and I started crying. That’s just perfect.” We both laughed. 

“Hey, who said we were finished.” Jensen kissed my lips and worked his way down my neck and to my chest. 

I leaned up and he pulled my shirt off. “Jens, I need you baby.” 

His hands traced every curve, every imperfection, and his lips trailed over my body. Marking me and making me his.

Jensen was gentle every time we made love, but something was different tonight. 

I felt like I was the only person that mattered to him. Nothing was rushed, every movement perfectly executed. Our breaths mingled together as our bodies became one. 

His hands were in mine and his lips pressed against mine. 

We were so wrapped up in the moment we forgot protection. When Jensen came his seed coated my insides and my body pulled every bit of it out. 

Jensen got up and cleaned us both. He pulled me into his arms and kissed my head. “I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Jensen.” 

We drifted off to sleep. My sleep restless, replaying the events of the day with Lily and David. My dreams plagued with the images of him taking her and me not getting to her in time. 

I heard her crying in my sleep. In my groggy state I thought it was just my imagination, but then I felt Jensen leap out of bed and run to her room. 

I realized I wasn’t dreaming. When I made it to her room, Jensen had her in his arms holding her and calming her down. I leaned against the doorway watching as he chased her fears away and wrapped her in the safety of his arms.

She looked terrified and clung to him. He laid down beside her, and softly sang to her. One song after another, and I saw her relax against him. 

His voice was like a balm on her heart, easing her pain and calming her. The melodic sounds that filled the room lulled her back to sleep. Lily’s breathing evened out and her face relaxed. 

When Jensen was sure she was asleep again he tucked her in, making sure her stuffies were next to her, and her blanket was around her. 

I smiled up at him. He smiled and took my hand. Leading me back to our room. 

“Jensen, that was incredible. You were made to be a father, you know that.” He kissed my lips, “Yeah, it’s something I’ve always wanted. Now with Lily I get the chance. She’s an incredible kid and I’m grateful I get to be part of her life. Now, we have a busy day ahead of us, let’s try and get some sleep.” 

He wrapped me in his arms and started humming. I smiled against his chest. I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, letting the stress of the day wash away. 

The next morning we were all up early and getting last minute things ready for our flight. The detective in charge of the case called Jensen and told him David made bail, but there was a restraining order against him. His next court date was next month, and we had to be there. Jensen thanked him and told me not to worry about anything. His attorney would prepare us and let us know what we needed to do. Lily, thank goodness, wouldn't have to go to court. 

The rest of the day was spent getting packed and making sure Lily was ready for the trip. She’d never been away from home and I was very nervous. 

I had made a list of everything and I kept checking it over and over. I sat on the bed, looking over the list again and Jensen chuckled from the doorway. “What’s so funny?” I smirked at him. “You are, come here.” He pulled me up and into his arms. “She’s going to be just fine. She has us, and her stuffies.” He cupped my face in his hands and placed a kiss on my lips, “I promise.” 

I took a shaky breath in, “I know, I just..” He cut me off with another kiss. “Jensen..”, again another kiss. “Are you just …” another kiss. I laughed. “See, now don’t you feel better?” I smiled, rolled my eyes and nodded. 

Lily walked in our room with her stuffies in hand, looked up at Jensen and said, “Dada, Lily, Mama, air.” Jensen nodded, “Yes, baby. We’re going on a plane tomorrow.” She held up her squirrel and moose stuffies and said, “Sam, Dean too.” Jensen laughed, “Yes, Sam and Dean too.” 

Lily squeezed them tightly and hugged Jensen. I leaned down to her, “Lily, baby, go grab your princess bag so we can make sure your stuffies are packed and other things you need.” 

She ran to her room and came back with the princess carry-on bag Jensen had bought her. I opened it up and found her princess dresses and accessories stuffed in it. 

I laughed, “Lily honey, we can’t take all this with us. If we do there won’t be any room for your stuffies.” She nodded, grabbed the bag and ran back to her room. When she came back it was empty. 

“Okay, Lily, put Sam and Dean in the bag.” She clung to them and refused to move. “Sweetie, we have to pack them so we don’t forget them.” Still, she refused to move. 

I took a deep breath, “Okay, well it will be your responsibility to put them in the bag tomorrow morning then.” She nodded. I was worried she’d forget.

Jensen leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry sweetheart, I won’t let her forget them.” He winked as he pulled away. 

The next morning was a whirlwind getting out the door and to the airport. Lily made sure her stuffies were tucked away safely in her bag. Jensen double checked, just to make sure. We were able to board the plane first. One reason was Jensen’s celebrity status, and the other was Lily’s autism. The flight crew were so sweet with her. She got to meet the pilots and received a pair of wings for her and her stuffies. 

When it was time for take off she wanted to sit in my lap, but I had to explain to her she couldn’t. She started to get upset and I was sure she was about to have a meltdown. 

Before we got ready to head down the runway to take off, Jensen switched seats with me and held onto Lily. His presence beside her comforted her enough she forgot about wanting to sit in my lap. 

I was in awe of him again. He looked over at me and smiled and took my hand in his. “See, we’ve got this, together. I’m not going anywhere.” 

My heart fluttered in my chest. At that moment I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was going to marry that man. 

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[skvaderarts]

After several delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one of Various Storms and Saints is done!

AKA the "Jayce accidentally ends up in a good timeline where he and Viktor are together" fic I said I would write.

Summary: Word count 4.7k

After meeting Wizard Viktor and the bad timeline, Jayce takes up the grim task of heading back to his own timeline and setting things right the only way he knows how. But along the way, something goes awry and he ends up in an alternate version of Piltover and Zaun where things appear to have gone very differently, especially between him and Viktor. But after experiencing firsthand the life that could have been between him and Viktor, will he be able to go back and fulfill his promise? After knowing the love that could still be there can he bring himself to destroy it forever?

(If there is smut later, it will be in stand-alone skippable chapters in case that's not your thing. Tags will be periodically updated to reflect the plot.)

A03 Link

Chapter 1: St. Jude

Notes: Hi, everyone! Thanks for checking this out! I hope you enjoy it!

—

“St Jude, the patron saint of the lost causes.

St Jude, we were lost before she started.

St Jude, we lay in bed as she whipped around us.

St Jude, maybe I've always been more comfortable in chaos.”

—

In truth, he’d started to think he’d go mad down there.

The top of the Hexgate loomed over the wasteland that had once been Piltover and Zaun like a lighthouse in a storm, as tantalizing as food to the starving; like a distant thunderstorm in the scorching heat. He had simply known that he needed to scale it. To stand at its zenith and behold the ruined world below him. 

A world ruined by Hextech. By his dream. The culmination of their dream.

The culmination of his obsession and love for magic and his desire to better the world with it. The end of their shared brilliance and friendship. The fallible flame of Prometheus passed to him by the man cloaked in frozen, biting winds that had burned him nonetheless.

He’d been as compelled to climb up there as he had been to escape that forsaken cave. That pit where every ounce of despair held deep within him had manifested. That interminable oubliette composed entirely from his nightmares and the hell of his physical reality. As inescapable as the truth.

He’d crawled from the lowest pits of the Undercity to the very tallest structure to ever stand in the clouds of Piltover, a metaphorical journey that he wasn’t the first to make. But it had given him a sense of understanding he’d only once thought he possessed and a clarity only bitter suffering could provide. 

They’d both been through so much. And it had created this.

How fitting that it should mark the spot of their shared grave. The Hexgate. A monument to what they could achieve together standing as the last bastion in a dead world. The only life left within it sequestered atop its one gleaming crest. Everything else scurried below, barely alive anymore. Mutated beyond recognition. Nothing untouched by the corruption of the Arcane. 

They were both still living in a way, but equality dead all the same. One motionless in solitude, the other rooted to the spot, physically able to leave but unwilling to, trapped in their perpetual state of mourning A terminus of boundless misery, both forever alone despite being so close that the flowers that adorned one had started to spread across the clothing worn by the other as they remained by their side.

How did it come to this? It was unfathomable.

But as he stood there and took in the words that this version of Viktor had told him, he knew it to be the truth. He could not run from it even if he’d had the will to. He’d delivered the weight of Atlas to his shoulders so gently, so knowingly, and yet with such haunting regret. With such a look of profound knowing in his time-worn eyes.

He’d always known Viktor. He just hadn’t known it until that moment. From the first spark of magic to the birth of Hextech. The man who had saved the lives of his mother and himself. He’d once told Viktor he knew that he had no idea how beautiful magic was when he’d been the very one to bestow it upon him. Oh, how little they’d both know at the time. How small the universe had been despite how open they were to all it had to offer.

“We lost ourselves. Lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.”

Viktor’s words that day scraped across his frontal lobe like a razor's edge. He was right. He’d been right all along, in fact. He’d said then that the Hexcore needed to be destroyed. Once upon a time, so had their mentor. It was clearer now than ever that for the sake of everyone and everything there was only one course of action to take. One path to walk that only he could tread.

But how could he bear that weight? How could he pick up that hammer? Knowing what he was destined to do with it. When the time came would his conviction alone be enough to make him go through with it? He had never been more sure and uncertain about anything. Sure in the steadfast nature of his promise and uncertain as to whether or not that would be enough. If his will alone would be enough.

Even knowing this he took a breath and looked the man who had saved him as a child in the eye. Perhaps not even a man now. More of a divine being of such terrible power that he knew not what to call him. Not what to make of him. But regardless, as he kneeled there, his resolve strengthened even as pained reality set in. This was the only way. In his heart, he knew it to be the only truth available to him.

“Send me back.”

A hand once obscured by the fabric of the older mage’s robe lowered itself to the skeletal structure that kneeled before it, barely grazing the surface that was as much petal and moss now as it was metal, the cosmos eternally entangled with it. The silence from it was absolute all but for the brief movement of its vacant eyes. His own looking back at him for a place beyond his comprehension. What remained of himself uncurled its fingers, some of them breaking apart at the tips and remaining on the handle. There was no blood. It had been subsumed long ago. But the handle was as much a part of it as the warped base of the hammer it clutched was the structure they stood upon. A limb more than a weapon.

Jayce was as entranced as he was utterly disquieted, the fleeting thought of what it must be like to be this version of himself fluttering through his subconscious for all but a moment before he leaned forward and gripped the handle. Resolute, he met the eyes of this version of Viktor one last time before readying himself.

For all their sakes, he could never find out.

“I won’t fail.”

He felt the band he'd worn upon his wrist for what felt like a lifetime change, disappearing in a flash of light. The rune that had started all of this embedded itself into his very flesh and marked it with the permeance of a brand. A vow. Prof of the unshakable commitment he now carried by his own volition. 

He'd escaped the very depths of hell crawling on a broken leg, and yet he knew with unyielding certainty that this would be the hardest thing that he would ever do.

He had to stop Viktor. And every aching fiber of his broken being knew what that meant. 

And he hated it. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. So much that it frightened him.

It seethed within him like rolling magma from the depths of Tartarus, ready to erupt and disfigure the bedrock itself. To tear the earth asunder beneath him. Not a hate towards him but a hate for him. On his behalf. For everything that he meant and had become. Because of them both. Because of him. For everything he meant and had always meant to Jayce and the brilliance that would be snuffed out when he watched the light leave his eyes. For everything that he'd done to him even though he'd never meant to hurt him. Every wound he'd inflicted had been out of nothing but love. And that was why it was so corrosive; so volatile. 

The worst thing a person could do to someone was love them the way he loved Viktor. 

And yet, even knowing that, even as that truth gripped him, some part of him that he despised knew he'd still do it again because he couldn't do nothing when the life of someone he cared about was at stake. That was his foil. The chink in his armor. He saw that now. If only he’d seen it before it had led him down this path. The path, it seemed, that he was always destined to follow.

He would be saved as a child. He would meet Viktor. And they would destroy the world together.

The depths of such betrayal. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd betrayed someone he loved, but it would be the first time he did it on purpose. With the explicit purpose of harming them. That just wasn’t who he was. It went against every atom of his being; against his unfalteringly loyal spirit. 

He couldn't hate Viktor for what he’d become. He didn’t want to. But he could hate himself for what he’d done to him. What he was about to do to him. Later. 

“I swear it.”

The anomaly reappeared and engulfed them. A fleshy, almost tendon-like conglomeration of round inorganic shapes with little rhyme or reason to them. Visually little more than a mass of shifting rainbow hews and refracting circular portholes punctuated only by its webbed internal structure. Its surface structured and rigid despite its ever-rippling nature. It warped and sputtered, swelling and expanding before contracting and shrinking in pulses and variable waves. It seemed unstable to Jayce, but it was impossible to tell. The amalgamation was as unknowable to him as the depths of the ocean. He would not question how it worked. He knew its purpose. It would send him back.

And then he would set about his grim task.

Jayce shared one final parting glance with the older version of the man he’d once called his closest friend before he felt himself pulled backward, tumbling through the depths of the Arcane. It was a blinding and disorienting experience, channels of light to either side of him rippling through dark, cool hues punctuated by the occasional reds and golds as runic symbols blazed past him at light speed. What appeared to be the night sky loomed over him, stars sparkling in distant, vacant galaxies in the far-off cosmos he was sent along the path that had been purpose-carved explicitly for him. It was beautiful in a frightening way.

Gripping the handle of the Mercury Hammer tightly, he felt himself speed up, approaching velocities that he dared not consider. The implications of how hard his upcoming landing would be would start to eat away at his already raw nerves. He didn’t need that.

His head cascaded through memories and fractured visions, threatening to tear his mind apart. He presumed that he was nearly there. He would hold together for as long as it took. He would finish the job and then his mind could unravel. Perhaps that would spare him some of the inevitable guilt. Some merciful madness to provide him with a thoughtless reprieve.

But as he approached the end of the path, a thought occurred to him. The Arcane. He’d touched it back at the base of the Hexgate and it had felt strange. Alien. Unpleasant. But this was another facet of it. More focused and less untamed. It looked like he could reach out and touch it, skim over its surface just like a hand skimming through silent waters. He’d wanted to do as much during his childhood in the moment that he’d been whisked away to safety. Perhaps a bit of harmless indulgence amidst the madness of it all?

Cautiously, he reached out his hand, extending just his middle, ring, and index fingers. That would be all he needed to-.

He saw his body go one way as he went the other as if he had been snatched from it. It passed him as he lingered behind, time almost seeming to stand still as his mind failed to process the level of horror that he should be experiencing upon seeing something of that nature. And then he was yanked sideways, wrenched through the walls of the Arcane itself.

A fractal, almost psychedelic series of refracting reflections of his own body and mind encircling him and then spreading out in long waves, sending his body through a void of bright white light. He saw the back of himself, row after row repeating the same motions in a slightly delayed sequence as he closed his eyes, only to find that doing so did nothing to stop him from seeing. He felt his heart leap in his chest, his blood pounding as he tried to steady himself.

Curse his foolish curiosity. If he’d only kept his hands to himself…

Suddenly, he felt his body drop. Slamming downward as everything around him went completely white save for the infinite rows of rainbow light that encircled the black, bottomless cosmic hole that he now found himself plummeting into. He opened his mouth to cry out in fear but found that little more than a frightened yelp escaped his parted lips as he plunged into the depths. Jayce closed his eyes, unwilling to look. If this was to be his end then he didn’t want to see what would take him from existence.

Jayce felt his knees buckle and slam downward as his hands caught him and he came to a sudden, bone-crunching stop. He gritted his teeth from sheer instinct, waiting with dread for the inevitable pain that would make its unwelcome appearance in his left leg. But as he opened his eyes he was met with confusion as nothing happened, the only discomfort coming from his palms making contact with the ground beneath him, and even that was nominal at best. His knees tingled a bit, but hardly in a way that he’d consider painful. Slowly his eyes began to adjust.

Light flooded through the trees around him. The smell of crisp waterside air and the gentle flutter of the wings of birds as they soared from the treetops overhead, startled by his sudden stop. The feeling of a comfortingly cool breeze grasping at the fabric that he wore, ghosting over his skin with all the gentleness of a kiss. The sun shone overhead in a bright blue sky barely touched by the paltry smattering of clouds that dared try to impede the light from above, warm but not stifling as leaves blew past him on the paved path that he occupied. 

He was looking down at the pavement. There was pavement.

Startled, he scrambled backward onto his feet, instantly thrown off by how unburdened his movement was. He ran a hand over his visibly shocked face, shaking his head back and forth a few times as his palm made contact with the top of his head. There was no hair to brush out of his eyes. It was shorter. He had no beard. No stubble, even.

He looked down and, to his further confusion, he wore something completely different than what he’d just had on. Gone were the muddied and soiled whites and golds that he’d once worn and in their stead was a much more approachable set of clothing. He wore dark pants with a vest and a long-sleeved shirt underneath, the sleeves neatly rolled up to just over the elbow. The garments were complimenting shades of dark blue and that shade of Talis red that he was oh so accustomed to. Familiar but something he was almost certain he couldn’t remember ever wearing before. And yet, something he felt like he would’ve picked out in another lifetime. Certainly inoffensive to his personal tastes.

Taking a second to orient himself, he concluded that he was in a park or plaza of some sort. It had recently established trees. There were benches and what seemed to be a fountain of some sort a short distance away. Nothing noteworthy but it still felt that way.

The place was alive. So unlike what the place he’d just left had been like.

“Excuse me. Sir? You dropped these.”

Jayce turned in alarm towards the individual who had just approached him. An enforcer carrying what appeared to be a clipboard with several documents on it. There was a cover sheet covering the stack bearing a house single that looked reminiscent of his own, only with two hammers instead of the single one he was accustomed to. Everything else was the same from the style to the colors, aside from that notable difference. Odd.

The enforcer handed over the documents, stopping to adjust his uniform. It had probably shifted when he’d reached over to pick up the documents off of the ground.

“T-thank you.” It took Jayce a moment to speak, his mouth and mind not quite in alignment just yet. He wasn’t sure why that had been so hard. What about it had felt so foreign to him? Perhaps spending an extended period in a realm nearly devoid of conversation partners had made him accustomed to other people just existing around him? There hadn’t been anyone to talk to down in that hole except for himself and the vaguely amphibious creatures he’d been feasting on. It was a humbling thought, one that made him uneasy. “Sorry for the trouble.”

The enforcer nodded cooperatively, seemingly taking notice of how off-kilter Jayce seemed. There was just something a bit off about him. Oh, if the man only knew. And yet, he seemed familiar. Like Jayce had seen him before…

It hit him like a bolt from the blue. He looked like that sheriff who had died on the bridge during that attack a while back, only slightly younger. Less hardened. What had his name been? Something with an M. Ah, that was right. Marcus. The same man who’d brought him the documents he’d requested during his second day as a Counselor. The day that they’d gone to check on the Hexgates.

Wait.

Oh no. He’d gone off course. Surely. It should have been obvious at first glance and yet… Was he in the past? Was this another timeline? He needed to find out. Fast.

“Hey, can I ask you a question?” It was so strange, speaking to a man he knew to be dead. Or who would die? He didn’t have the foggiest idea just yet, but still. He hadn’t known him but he still felt a small pang of sadness remembering the sight of him laying there when he’d visited the bridge that day with Mel. It almost made him feel queasy again.

“Of course. How can I help?”

“I… “ He flipped through the documentation on the clipboard, looking for something to go off of. A starting place for his investigations. And then he found it: a set of addresses. One was listed as a professional address, a tempting lead to be sure, but the other caught his eye. It was a home address. Apparently, his personal address since it was listed under his house name. But it was not the one he was familiar with. “Could you point me in the right direction?”

Marcus leaned over to read the address and then eyed him questioningly, seemingly wondering something but not saying it. “That’s just a few blocks short of a mile from here. Across the bridge in Central Zaun. Near The Last Drop. Go straight. You won’t miss it.”

The notion that the address was not in Piltover didn’t surprise him. He’d never seen a street by that name there. But Zaun? Was that what the Undercity was called in this universe? Had something disastrous happened in his personal life to cause him to have to move there? Maybe he hadn’t gone back in time, then. This might be more complicated than he’d first imagined. Fantastic.

He thanked Markus and bid him farewell. At least now he had a lead to work with. To Zaun, then. He’d been to the center of the Undercity before. It felt like a lifetime ago now, but he was certain that he could find his way down to the bottom again.

Making his way through town, Jayce couldn’t hope but notice that things felt different. Everything felt brighter; warmer and more optimistic. There were balloons on the street poles and banners over roads. Street service workers were in the process of replacing the standard lights with colored ones and an electric sense of optimism and excitement seemed to flow from everyone he passed. They were all looking forward to something, that much was clear.

And then he reached the bridge.

The structure that once served as a point of separation between the two cities gleamed under the bright sky, bustling with activity and purpose. Children played and vendors showcased different products and purchasable, perishable, or otherwise. People talked and laughed together from all walks of life. There were no blockades. Only traces of where they’d once been. Everything was clean and well-kept. People were enjoying themselves in an environment devoid of tension.

It all felt like a surreal fever dream. A beautiful one.

In truth, it stole his breath away.

He’d always hoped that Hextech could pave the way to a better tomorrow for them all, but to see the Undercity flourishing, even at just the surface level? This place was everything he’d ever hoped it could be. Everything that they’d championed for, especially Viktor. So tirelessly, even at the expense of his own well-being. To see the home that his partner had hailed from brimming with hope and beauty seized him in a way that he struggled to shake as he moved through the streets toward his destination. He wished he could show Viktor this version of his home. He wished he’d had the chance to grow up in this version of his home. No polluted water and acidic air, no downtrodden infrastructure or blackened skies heavy with soot and brimstone from the factories and mines. Just fresh air, daylight, and opportunity around every corner. What they’d all disserved from the very start. What they’d been deprived of by the simple virtue of being born on the wrong side of the bridge.

Genuine tangible irrefutable progress. He wanted this for his Piltover. For their Piltover.

He hurried along, checking the addresses as he passed by what was undeniably the center of town. Past The Last Drop and down its open, winding roads that had once been so narrow and stifling. Down to a quiet but still active zone filled with a mixture of residences and small shops. Colorful, bright, and full of greenery, something unfamiliar to him in this place save for the smog. He rounded a corner and then stopped, suddenly hit by the realization that something just felt off all of a sudden.

It started as simple blurred vision, Jayce shaking his head as he ducked further back away from the street. But then his head shuttered and his legs nearly buckled, his chest heaving as he used one hand to steady himself against the brick wall of one of the shops and the other to grip his throbbing head. He saw colors and shapes in flashes too fast and aggressively to make out clearly. And then he felt his stomach knot and churn before he found himself on his knees for the second time since he’d arrived, emptying the contents of his stomach into a nearby bush.

Panting as the clarity returned to his watering eyes and the breath in his lungs was restored, he stood shakily, steadying himself. He wasn’t a fan of whatever that had been. But it was over. He would continue.

Stepping back out onto the main path he did a double take. He’d found the address. In his stupor, he’d nearly walked right past it.

It didn’t stand out from the other buildings it was attached to, a little two-story thing with a raised stoop that made it apparent that it had a basement with a window well. At the top of the eves was a round window that hinted at the possibility of an attic, but it was hard to be sure from the exterior. The roof was a tarnished copper like many of the others on the road, but in a way that was ornamental instead of the result of a lack of upkeep. The verdigris contrasted the rest of the structure in a way that almost seemed deliberate, with red brick and metal ornamentation that almost reminded him of what one would expect in the more common districts of Piltover but with a slightly different flare. It was… Nice. Easily one of the coziest-looking buildings on the lane. Strange. It even felt like home.

Jayce wasn’t sure what he’d expected to find when he’d imagined where he’d choose to live in the Undercity, but this was a far cry better than what he’d had in mind. Nothing opulent, but to be fair, that had never been the case for any place he’d lived aside from the Kiramman Penthouse during his studies. He dug through his waistcoat pocket and produced a set of keys as he approached the door. There were a few on the ring, in fact. Something else to look into later. If he was there that long.

It took a few keys before he found the right one, but eventually, the door opened and he stepped across the threshold, immediately hit by the comforting warmth of the space. If the outside had been quaint and cozy, then the inside was nothing short of welcoming. Instantly, it felt like a place he’d like to stay in. An archway made in the same art nouveau style with just a sprinkle of art deco that the rest of the building’s exterior had been crafted in opened up into what seemed to be a living area of some sort. Just ahead of him was a staircase leading to the upper level. 

Even with the curtains partially drawn across the back window, he could see the wealth of plants in the back conservatory off to the side of the back of the building, accessible via the hallway that ran down past the staircase. An interesting choice. He’d never been the best at keeping those alive despite his best attempts. Perhaps they were specimens for some sort of study.

But as he considered this the same pain he’d felt in his skull returned from nowhere, only with no warning or build-up and with the vengeful spite of a curse set upon him by a wrathful god. He bumped into the wall as he dropped the papers he still carried onto a side table, nearly stumbling over it in the process as he reeled back and used both hands to clutch his aching head, digging his fingers into his scalp as though gouging through his flesh and excavating all the gray matter from his body was the only recourse from which he could hope to derive release.

Gasping soundlessly save for the sound of air parting ways with his lungs, he grounded himself as he clenched his eyes shut. It would pass. It had to. His worst moments always did for they were merely that: moments. He groaned shakily, panting like a shaking animal as his ears wrang, seeing only the flashes of color and fractal nonsense that were the hallmarks of the Arcane anomaly. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears and head as the ceaseless agony slowly subsided, pushing and pulling in tormenting waves until it became vaguely bearable again, coherence no longer simply a product of wishful yearning.

He didn’t hear the handle turn; he didn’t register the door swing open or the silence as it returned to the room. Jayce didn’t feel the presence of another person in the room with him whatsoever, so overtaken was he by the ordeal he’d just experienced. His ears felt like they’d never be useful again. And then he heard a voice. As clear as crystal. Like a chime ringing out in the utterly consuming darkness. He didn’t currently possess the faculties necessary to discern the topic of conversation, but he knew that voice anywhere.

Viktor.

(-~-)

After SEVERAL delays (sorry, everyone) chapter one is FINALLY out and I am over the moon. Seriously, I have so much that I want to do with this AU and so many little stories that I want to tell within it, so bear with me. Sometimes my brain just doesn't cooperate with my writing schedule, but the excitement is there, I promise. I want to know what you guys think! It’s been so long since I’ve started something like this. Was the writing okay?

I have a one-shot to write and then I’m going to start chapter two immediately so the plan is to get it out within the next day or two, if not sooner. Fingers crossed. Thanks again for checking this out! If you want to hear more I have info for the AU on my Bluesky and my Tumblr and they are both linked in my bio. I can provide links if you’d like them. Just let me know. I’d really like to know what you think of this so far. Do you want this to go in a more spicy direction in the future? Is that a no-go for you? I’m itching to hear your feedback. And I hope to see you in chapter 2. Take care and I’ll see you soon. Bye!

[violettathepiratequeen]

The Writers of BtVS

So because I'm a nerd, and because I was curious, I compiled a list of the credited Buffy writers and their episodes, mostly to check for their own consistency, haha. And because I thought it was interesting enough to share:

WRITERS:

Joss Whedon

Welcome to the Hellmouth

The Harvest

Nightmares (with David Greenwalt)

Out of Mind, Out of Sight (with Ashley Gable and Thomas A. Swyden)

Prophecy Girl

When She Was Bad

School Hard (with David Greenwalt)

Lie to Me

Ted (with David Greenwalt)

Innocence

Becoming, Part 1

Becoming, Part 2

Anne

Amends

Doppelgangland

Graduation Day, Part 1

Graduation Day, Part 2

The Freshman

Hush

Who Are You?

Restless

Family

The Body

The Gift

Once More With Feeling

Lessons

Chosen

Dana Reston

Witch

David Greenwalt

Teacher’s Pet

Angel

Nightmares (with Joss Whedon)

School Hard (with Joss Whedon)

Reptile Boy

Ted (with Joss Whedon)

Faith, Hope, and Trick

Homecoming

Rob Des Hotel & Dean Batali

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date 

The Puppet Show 

The Dark Age 

Phases 

Killed By Death 

Matt Kiene

The Pack

Inca Mummy Girl (with Joe Reinkemeyer)

Ashley Gable and Thomas A. Swyden

I, Robot… You, Jane

Out of Mind, Out of Sight (with Joss Whedon)

Thomas A. Swyden

I, Robot… You, Jane (with Ashley Gable)

Out of Mind, Out of Sight (with Ashley Gable and Joss Whedon)

Ty King

Some Assembly Required

Passion

Joe Reinkemeyer

Inca Mummy Girl (with Matt Kiene)

Carl Ellsworth

Halloween

Howard Gordon

What’s My Line? Part 1 (with Marti Noxon)

Marti Noxon

What’s My Line? Part 1 (with Howard Gordon)

What’s My Line? Part 2

Bad Eggs

Surprise

Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

I Only Have Eyes For You

Dead Man’s Party

Beauty and the Beasts

The Wish

Consequences

The Prom

Living Conditions

Wild at Heart

Doomed (with David Fury and Jane Espenson)

Goodbye Iowa

New Moon Rising

Buffy vs. Dracula

Into the Woods

Forever

Bargaining, Part 1

Wrecked

Villains

Bring on the Night (with Douglas Petrie)

Elin Hampton

Go Fish (with David Fury)

David Fury

Go Fish (with Elin Hampton)

Helpless

Choices

Fear Itself

Doomed (with Marti Noxon and Jane Espenson)

The I in Team

Primeval

Real Me

Shadow

Crush

Bargaining, Part 2

Life Serial (with Jane Espenson)

Gone

Grave

Sleeper (with Jane Espenson)

Showtime

Lies My Parents Told Me (with Drew Goddard)

Thania St. John

Gingerbread (with Jane Espenson)

Jane Espenson

Band Candy

Gingerbread (with Thania St. John)

Earshot

The Harsh Light of Day

Pangs

Doomed (with David Fury and Marti Noxon)

A New Man

Superstar

The Replacement

Triangle

Checkpoint (with Douglas Petrie)

I Was Made to Love You

Intervention

After Life

Flooded (with Douglas Petrie)

Life Serial (with David Fury)

Doublemeat Palace

Same Time, Same Place

Conversations with Dead People (with Drew Goddard)

Sleeper (with David Fury)

First Date

Storyteller

End of Days (with Douglas Petrie)

Douglas Petrie

Revelations

Bad Girls

Enemies

The Initiative

This Year’s Girl

The Yoko Factor

No Place Like Home

Fool For Love

Checkpoint (with Jane Espenson)

The Weight of the World

Flooded (with Jane Espenson)

As You Were

Two to Go

Beneath You

Bring on the Night (with Marti Noxon)

Get it Done

End of Days (with Jane Espenson)

Dan Vebber

Lovers Walk

The Zeppo

Tracey Forbes

Beer Bad

Something Blue

Rebecca Rand Kirshner

Out of My Mind

Listening to Fear

Tough Love

Tabula Rasa

Hell’s Bells

Help

Potential

Touched

Steven S. DeKnight

Blood Ties

Spiral

All the Way

Dead Things

Seeing Red

Drew Z. Greenberg

Smashed

Older and Far Away

Entropy

Him

The Killer in Me

Empty Places

Diego Gutierrez

Normal Again

Drew Goddard

Selfless

Conversations with Dead People (with Jane Espenson) 

Never Leave Me

Lies My Parents Told Me (with David Fury)

Dirty Girls

So the conclusion I've come to is... in my own fanfic writing projects, I sometimes have works that I know are very good and are received well. And there are some that I know just stink, and the lower interaction reflects it. It's pretty comforting to know that for professional writers, the same thing is true.

Jane Espenson, for instance, beloved by Spuffies everywhere for being our man on the inside, ALSO co-wrote "Gingerbread," my least favorite ep ever.

Douglas Petrie is, in my opinion, absolutely an undercover Spuffy, or at least understood the assignment well enough to fake it. And I love him for being the first to write Wesley, for breaking Bangel up one of the times in S3, for writing "Fool for Love," for strengthening Spike's character in every ep that included him.

And David Fury... look, I know he gets a lot of flack, but I think he doesn't actually hate Spike as much as it seems. Looking at his list of episodes and the messages I know to be in them, I think he's just VERY pro-soul, and can't wrap his head around a vampire being good without one. But once Spike does get his soul... well, we need look no further than "Showtime."

But really, let's all bow down to Rebecca Rand Kirshner. For "Out of My Mind." For "Tabula Rasa." For "Help." For "Touched." For some of the sweetest Spuffy moments in all her other eps.

[flecks-of-stardust]

went wiki diving based on what i already know, and also a few things i know i'd never find on my own. what the fuck.

so straw has a canon design now too, huh

[cerealbishh]

"We get to, this season, explore their chemistry and their real love and their intimacy. So we get to have a glimpse into that world that just feels so pure and beautiful and romantic! And then, sort of navigating those other circumstances once they're out in the world, dealing with real... challenges." - Isa in an interview with The Knockturnal(x)

[moeblob]

OC again gomen ... (her name is Yuma)

[hazardsoflove]

i do really love how your choices from other da games affect inquisition so much because it turned my warden and alistair’s love story into a horrible tragedy against my will

[unproduciblesmackdown]

another billions analysis thing is like so yeah while it's like "hmm let's think about power" but then doesn't really do that, what's there to offset that is "but let's think about what these people with billions(tm) are doing because of their like personal feelings & lives & whatever" and the personal feelings are the thrilling journey of s1 men following the compass of their ego & the way their personal lives matter at all beyond this is about their Relationships. except the relationships are also actually about the power billions isn't really thinking about because the ones billions focuses on involve this Fealty where one person does whatever and the other is just stuck with it. sure they might air some unhappiness sometimes, but if it's not punished or ignored from the start anyway, it'll still end up so inconsequential that it's as though it never happened. and what's left to offset the way that can't mean anything if you again take it for granted that of course people are just locked into such relationships & best they can do is fix it from the inside or embrace it as is? is "do you think this character is a winner among losers & you want to see them pwn everyone & do whatever they want forever" & if you like all the media the creators do like

[lieutenant-amuel]

I have such ambitious plans for the new year.

I want to write at least one more chapter of WBTL.

[squidaped-oyt]

Getting very very tired of the 'I want a dog' conversation coming up with my mum every time she sees a cute dog on TV for 5 seconds

[britneyshakespeare]

when i saw the leaks i thought i really wanted to get goin' out sasha when she came out but now that we have better stock photos i'm like i have the smallest qualm in the world but it makes such a difference to me. why did they make her facial screening look so... incredulous

why is she lookin at me like that? what did i do to deserve that?

[arkangelo-7]

I’m sure someone’s already headcannoned this, but Bruce having pet names for the Batkids? Man, those are his babies—you can bet your ass he has pet names for them. He might not be the type of man to show much affection beyond a shoulder pat or the occasional forehead kiss, but he’s determined to parent the crap outta these orphans, and pet names are an easier medium to show that he cares.

Dick is both “chum” and “sweetheart” depending on the context. When Bruce is feeling playful and comfortable (the easy, “your mine and I’m just happy to be here with you” kind of love), he’ll stick with “chum” and Dick absolutely loves it. But when Dick’s sick or has a nightmare or got injured during patrol? It’s sweetheart. It’s default mode for Bruce, because seeing Dick in pain brings up so many raw, intense emotions (Bruce gets scared, goddamit) that it’s easier for him to say “I’ve got you, sweetheart, it’s okay, just keep your eyes on mine,” then it is to say “I’m so terrified that I’m going to loose you, I love you, you’re my everything.”

Jason is“Jaylad.” But it’s less of the name that’s important and more of the story behind it that is. For the first few months that Jason was in Bruce’s care, Bruce didn’t dare call him anything other then his name, in fear that he’d scare him away (he was already so distrusting, so hesitant, so fearful whenever Bruce talked to loud or moved to fast or got upset), but at the same time, he’d seen how pleased Dick had been at being called “chum” and wanted to bestow a similar endearment on Jason. But—he didn’t want to go to far. So instead of calling him “lad” like his own father had once called him, Bruce calls him “Jaylad.” It’s a little more impersonal, but it makes Jason more comfortable. (But when Bruce cradled his son’s broken body he said “no, darling, not you, don’t leave me—” because just how Dick is “sweetheart,” Jason has also always been “darling.”)

For Tim… it’s more complicated. He shoved his way into Bruce’s life and he’s forever grateful, but it wasn’t the same as it was with Jason and Dick. He sees Tim as his son, of course, but their relationship was built on the darkest, most despairing part of Bruce’s life. But even in that terrible season, Bruce would look over at Tim working on a case or cleaning his suit and say, “Good job, sport.” It doesn’t happen often, but Tim is “sport.”

Cassandra is “love.” Bruce has never said it to her, aloud, but he knows Cass can read him well enough to hear the unspoken endearment, to see how much he longs to protect her, bring her joy, fill her heart with all the love she’s filled his with.

Steph is “duck.” And not necessarily because Bruce decided that it was, but because 9 times out of 10 he finds himself screaming, “Robin, get down!” because Stephanie will not for the love of God follow his orders, and end up right in the line of fire. To save time he eventually just started saying “Duck!” It keeps Steph from getting whacked to high heavens and saves Bruce (another) heart attack, but over the years it’s also become somewhat of a ritual to say “duck” whenever Steph walks in the room. Bruce secretly wants to call her “ducky” (which is what his mother called Kate), but he’s never worked up the nerve.

Duke is “kid.” By the time he’s in the family, Bruce has loosened up and lightened up, especially with everyday affection (which is to say, he’s not avoiding it like the plague). He’s quick to say “Good job, kid” whenever Duke had an accomplishment or ask “how are you today, kiddo?” when they see each other in passing in the Batcave.

Damian, lastly, would never allow Bruce to call him anything other then his name. But every once in a while, Bruce can get away with saying “son.” And it’s the best thing in the world.

[happy74827]

Say Yes to Heaven

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

WC: 3690

Category: Fluff, First Kiss, Logan’s POV

Another Grumpy!Logan x Sunshine!Reader because it’s my comfort trope ✨🫶

『••✎••』

He never realized how much he wanted someone to care for.

It was something he didn't know he desired. A year ago, he didn't care for a single thing. He felt nothing. He was so numb. So empty.

He was an angry man. The kind of man people kept their distance from. Wade ruined that; he aggravated him so much that Logan started actually caring about his life. And for as much as he despised his fugly ass, he was internally grateful for him. He started to open up more and more.

Wade had a part in taking him out of rock bottom, as they say, but you… you aggravated him in the most endearing way possible. You were so bright, so happy, and full of life. Logan couldn't understand how someone could be like that, and he hated you for it. He thought it was so ignorant of you.

"I mean, come on, how could she be that happy all the time? It's fucking dumb. She doesn't even know me!"

That's what he said to Wade, but his roommate only laughed. He found his frustration hilarious and made fun of him constantly.

And don’t even get started on the way you spoke. Never once have you raised your voice at anyone. You always talked softly, and even if you were pissed off, you still found a way to make your words sound gentle.

The man couldn’t wrap his mind around the way you acted, you weren’t a mutant, but you damn well could have been with that forever customer service smile you wore every day.

The level of patience and understanding you held for people was insane to him, especially the amount of patience you held with him.

He was constantly telling you to fuck off, and you took no offense; you just returned that stupidly kind smile and told him that if he needed anything, you were there for him.

You had no clue what he’s done, what he's capable of, and yet you treat him with the utmost respect. And being a mutant, respect, and kindness were two things he hadn’t received in a very long time.

It made him realize things—about himself and others. He started noticing you a little more—the way you looked and the way you acted. It started out as simple confusion and disgust… the typical reactions one would have when one sees an overly happy person.

But it evolved slowly into intrigue and curiosity.

Then something else. Something he couldn't describe.

His first instinct was to push it away. To try and convince himself, he was disgusted. He did this with everything he felt, but he couldn’t keep lying to himself.

It wasn't disgust.

He couldn't name it; he wasn't ready to, but he knew it wasn’t that.

Wade had noticed the change in him, the way he looked at you, the way he started being a little less rough with the words he chose to say. He didn’t bring it up, but the shit-eating grin he gave each time Logan walked in and saw you was more than enough proof that he had picked up on it.

Of course, it only resorted to grins because the one time he opened his mouth, Logan didn’t restrain himself. He popped his claws and had to go couch shopping the next day.

Whoops.

So, with Wade keeping his mouth shut after being chewed out by Blind Al and Logan trying his best to push away the foreign feelings, it finally reached a point where he could no longer ignore them.

He didn’t understand why, of all nights, it had to be this one, but it was.

It was 3 am, and his old nightmares had come back to haunt him. He was restless, sweaty, and couldn't take another second of sleep.

It took a rinsing of the bathroom sink and a pitiful glare at his reflection for you to return his gaze.

He froze for a second.

You were wearing a large T-shirt, with a pair of shorts underneath. Your hair was messy, but it looked so soft, and your face was clear of makeup, leaving the imperfections of your skin that made you all the more beautiful.

Always wearing a smile. Always greeting him with a soft voice, sometimes a little raspy if just waking up, butnonetheless soft.

But once he rubbed his eyes and let out a tired yawn, you weren’t there anymore.

Because you were never there, you lived across the street. You were in your apartment, sleeping, with no idea that, at that moment, the man who constantly told you to fuck off realized he couldn't stop thinking about you.

The same man who would grunt, scoff, and throw away every kind gesture now realized he secretly cherished them.

He stood there for a moment, just pondering his thoughts. His eyes were still on the spot he saw you in.

His head turned to the right, seeing the digital clock that rested on the nightstand.

3:02 am.

You were asleep…. most likely asleep. You would be unhappy if he came over and woke you up, wouldn't you?

He looked back at the sink.

You could be upset, but you could also be happy. You could give him that smile. That sweet, warm smile.

It would be worth it, right? Just for that?

3:04 am

He didn’t think about it. Not even for a second. Ironically, it started raining as if to test him, but the man was determined.

He put on a jacket to cover his bare chest, threw on some random shoes, and was out the door before his mind could stop him.

3:13 am

He knocked on your apartment door. He was completely drenched from the rain. His hair was messy, his jacket sticking to his body, and his shoes were so wet that the squelching sound they made was the only thing audible.

He heard shuffling. Soft steps coming closer. He could smell your scent. It shocked him how easy it was for him to recognize it.

You unlocked the door. Your brows furrowed in confusion.

His mental image of you being in sleepwear, messy hair, no makeup, had been confirmed. You were beautiful.

You had a tired look, one of the many looks he wasn’t used to. But it was still a good look, and it still held your signature kindness.

He had a feeling it would.

You didn't look too shocked, just tired and confused.

You spoke. "Logan, is…? Are you okay?"

Your voice was even softer than usual, the raspiness it held only making it more comforting.

You were genuinely worried about him, and it hit him then that he was being an asshole. Making you wake up in the middle of the night, and for what? Just because he wanted to see you?

Just because of that, he should’ve given you a reason. An explanation.

He should've asked. He should have done so many things differently, but he didn’t.

His head was in the clouds, and all he could think about was you.

You. That was all.

But his expression gave away that he was in a daze, and your worry only grew.

"Logan? What's wrong?"

You stepped out into the hallway and reached a hand to him.

His heart jumped a bit when you did so. It was just a gesture—one simple act of compassion.

He wasn't worthy of that, but he couldn't resist. He didn't want to.

Your fingers barely brushed against his upper arm before he moved. He grabbed your wrist.

His grip wasn't hard. His hold was gentle, as he had no intentions of hurting you. You could’ve easily pulled your arm away if you wanted to, but you didn't.

His eyes locked with yours. He wasn't sure what possessed him, but it felt so right, so he followed his instincts.

He tugged at your wrist, causing your body to fall into him. Your chest pressed against his. His arms wrapped around you, one hand cupping the back of your neck, the other resting on the small of your back.

The embrace was so sudden, and he knew the situation was far from ideal, but his senses were overflowed by your presence, your scent, your softness.

His chin rested atop your head, and his eyes fluttered closed.

It wasn’t the first time he ever hugged someone, but it was the first time he hugged someone in such a way. He held onto you tightly, his grip possessive but not painful.

He was afraid to let go.

He felt your hands press against his chest. You were probably going to push him away, he thought, and he tried to prepare himself. He told himself he would let you go because it was the right thing to do, yet he didn’t need to.

You hugged him back, and he almost lost his footing.

How long had it been since he last received a hug? Since the last time, someone held him and showed him affection?

Too long.

Your hands went inside his opened jacket and held onto him. Your fingers pressed against his skin, and your soft, warm breaths caressed his neck.

He could stay like this for eternity, and he would never grow tired of it.

Your voice reached his ears.

"Logan, did something happen?"

He had been standing there for quite a while. He wasn’t aware of how long. Time seemed to freeze around you, but he didn’t mind. He wasn't one to believe in such nonsense, but when it came to you, he was ready to accept it.

Your hand rested on his arm, and he knew you were subtly prompting him to move, and so he did.

He pulled away from the hug just enough to look at you.

Your lips were turned upwards. The corners of your eyes creased.

"Logan?"

It was then that his actions registered—how utterly close the two of you were, how intimately you were holding each other. He was already warm just from genetics alone, but now he felt everything around him heat up.

"I-"

He didn't know what to say. It was like he was back in that bar, drinking away every thought. He couldn't think. There was nothing. Nothing but the feel of your body against his.

But what truly sealed the deal was when he felt your thumb gently caress his knuckles. It was a small movement, barely noticeable, but it was centered exactly on the scars his claws made.

That little movement made his brain short-circuit. His hands twitched. His grip tightened. He held onto you with his entire body as if scared to let you go.

"What happened?"

You were patient with him. The fact that he hadn’t even answered any of your concerns said enough.

But, eventually, he did find some words to respond with. It wasn’t the answer you were searching for, but it was a response.

"Why are you always being so fucking kind?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the amount of pain it carried was overwhelming. He knew you could hear every word behind it. Every word he couldn't bring himself to say.

He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good man. He did horrible things, and sure… he made an attempt to make up for it. To be better, but it couldn’t have been enough, could it?

You were still here, looking at him with those soft eyes.

Why couldn't you look at him the way he deserved to be looked at? Like he was a monster.

Why did you have to look at him with those goddamn beautiful eyes?

"You deserve kindness, Logan. We all do."

And then, your voice became even softer and a little shaky. Your hands went back to massaging his knuckles. His scars.

"Just because you see yourself a certain way doesn’t mean the rest of us do. I see the good in you. Always have since we first met."

You spoke so softly, yet your words were heavy with emotion.

"I know it's not easy, but try to have a little more faith in yourself."

You didn’t deserve the harsh words he always threw at you. You didn’t deserve any of his anger. You didn't deserve him.

"Why?" He repeated his question, his voice strained, and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "Why should I?"

His arms loosened their hold around you; his hands moved down your sides, and his touch feathered light. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, but he couldn’t quite let go just yet.

You paid it no mind. Only staring back into his eyes with the same kindness he was so used to, the one he had grown to treasure.

"You have a right to feel the way you do, Logan. And I can't claim to understand what you've been through. I can't begin to imagine. But you are a good man. A little rough around the edges, maybe, but you’ve shown me time and time again that you're trying."

A smile crept its way onto your face, and a soft giggle escaped past your lips.

Now, to be fair, he was used to hearing your laughter. With your… odd sense of humor, it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. But, this would be one of the firsts to add to his collection.

The one reserved for him and him only.

Your laughter wasn’t loud, or annoying, or anything like Wade's. It was soft, sweet, and oh-so pleasant.

You were looking at him. Staring up at him with such love and warmth. You didn't even realize it, but he did.

"Besides, who wouldn't be a little grouchy waking up to that handsome face every morning?"

And, now, he was repulsed by the unwelcome vision of a certain masked man making his way into his head. He was so disgusted by the thought he didn’t bother responding. He didn't want to.

So, instead, he moved.

He had a habit of moving on his own and not thinking about it. It went from his hands going to your sides, and now, his hands reaching out to press against the door behind you.

You were pinned against the door, and the way you looked at him didn’t change. Of course, it didn't. Your eyes were always kind. They always were.

You were leaning against the door. Looking at him, waiting.

And he stared back.

He was so close, and he was tempted to pull away. To take a step back and leave. It would be the best for both of you; at least, he thinks so.

He couldn't give you anything.

He had nothing.

There was only himself. His body. His mind. His past.

His claws, too, if that counted for anything.

But, besides those, there was nothing.

He wasn’t a bad man, but he wasn't good either. Not like you were. He couldn’t possibly begin to match you, not even if he tried.

Which is why he had no intention of trying.

Yet, even as he thought that, his body moved even closer. The dog tags he had never taken off since he was given them hung loosely, dangling in front of your face.

One of your hands was on his chest, the other gripping onto the material of his shirt.

"Logan."

You spoke his name so softly. Almost a whisper, and yet, the sound of it was all his senses were focused on.

Your gaze shifted between his eyes and lips, and the hand that had been holding onto his shirt moved, reaching up to his shoulder.

The touch was light, as if hesitant, and it caused him to lean even closer.

It was so close. You were so close. You had been before, but never like this. Never in the way he wanted.

He wanted you so badly.

And you were right there. Looking at him with those eyes, with a soft, tender smile, and with an expression he didn't recognize.

He knew that was an invitation. You were always an open book, and your body language was no different.

And it wasn't the first time you did so.

There were many times when you looked at him. Your eyes trailing over his face. Your gaze went downwards, lingering before you snapped out of it and looked away.

He always saw it, always knew it was there, but he just chose to ignore it. He wasn’t in the right mind, then. He was just another broken man, struggling to get by, trying his best.

Trying to find some meaning in his life.

But, even now, he was still hesitant. Even after coming all the way here and making his intentions clear, he struggled with it.

"Are you sure?"

Because you were so much better than him.

Because he could still remember the day the two of you met. How much of an asshole he was, how rude, how angry.

It wasn’t until the seventh time you approached him that he realized that he had met someone who genuinely, wholeheartedly cared.

It wasn't until the twentieth time you approached him that he finally accepted it.

He could never forget the way you smiled and spoke to him, even though he had given you no reason to.

"Hi, Logan!"

You would say.

"Good morning!"

You would wave.

"Have a nice day, Logan."

You would nod, even though the man himself chose to ignore you. Goddamn it. You were so much better than him.

Much purer. Much more innocent.

You had a heart of gold, and a soul as white as snow. You were so good, so kind, and the thought of soiling you, of ruining your light with his darkness, it scared him.

It was the sole reason he didn't give in, even now, with you offering yourself to him.

He didn't want to ruin you.

"Yes."

No hesitation. No second thoughts.

Your eyes were so kind. So full of love, and the same emotion reflected back in his own.

But, even with the clear sign of assurance, he still felt the need to create one last line of defense.

With the hand against the door, he peeled it back enough to have your eyes catch sight of the fist it made.

In a millisecond, he unleashed his claws and slammed his fist against the door, the sharp adamantium easily slicing through the wood, causing the door to crack.

And, yet, no reaction. Not a single flinch, not a wince, not even a hitch of breath.

You weren't afraid. Not at all. Even as the claws were mere inches from your face, you weren't scared.

The corners of your mouth twitched. Upwards, and it soon bloomed into a bright smile.

He retracted his claws, and gave you another once-over, just to be sure, and you responded by lifting your hand, grasping the metal chain hanging from his neck.

Your fingers grazed against the cool metal, and your smile softened before turning into a small grin.

"For a man who states he isn’t scared of anything, you sure have a lot of defense mechanisms, Logan."

Teasing. That was a new one for you.

He liked it.

"Say it again." Now, finally, you showed a different expression. Confusion mixed with curiosity. You were wondering what he meant. "My name."

"Logan."

For you, his actions were mere seconds. You had no time to process the feeling of his breath against your lips. The feeling of his stubble tickling your skin. The feeling of his warm, dry lips pressed against yours.

But, for him, it was a slow, steady motion. He took his time. He pulled you closer, his hands moving from the door and cupping the back of your head and your waist.

The kiss was soft. Gentle. Nothing rushed.

He held you like you were fragile. Like you were made of porcelain and could break at any moment. He could, theoretically, but he would rather go through Cassandra’s entire repertoire of torture than hurt you.

He lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck, his own pulling you closer, his fingers digging into your skin.

You tasted exactly how you were. Pure. Sweet.

Like heaven.

He was sure he was leaving that of the bitter alcohol he had downed on your lips, but you didn't seem fussy about it.

Not that he could focus on anything else, anyway.

He was too distracted by the way his tongue danced with yours.

Too focused on the taste of your mouth.

Too distracted by the way your hands made themselves a home in his wet hair. They would tug every once in a while, releasing a groan he hadn’t known was there.

He was too distracted to care.

He was too lost in your scent. Wade always called him that character from that shity vampire movie due to his nose.

He always disagreed until you happened to mention the resemblance. Then, and only then, did he see the logic.

And you saw the logic here, too—the logic of how good you melted together. Experiencing it now made him question his decision to stay away.

If it was always going to be this good, this intoxicating, he should’ve done it a long time ago.

He should've taken the chance.

It would've saved the two of you a lot of frustration, and a lot of headaches.

But it didn't matter. He was here now.

And, as his foot broke into the door, mouth still latched onto yours, with him figuring his way about your apartment, he thought:

It doesn't matter.

As long as I’m here.

As long as you’re in my arms.

It doesn't matter.

Fortunately, that meant he didn’t have to wake up to that toupee-stapled face every morning, as he had so dreadfully imagined.

Unfortunately, it also meant that the next time he saw Wade, he would have to deal with him talking his ears off about what had transpired.

But, for now, he could live with that.

He was more focused on the fact on making sure you weren’t regretting your choice.

Because he sure as fuck didn’t.

[pears-palette]

"A Tale as Old as Time..."

[ID in Alt]

This piece took me forever, but finally the Beauty and the Beast inspired Faricille stained glass is complete! And it only took like 21 hours lol. RIP my hands- remember to stretch, kids!

I feel like the symbolism is kind of obvious (for the most part at least), but I will go ahead and explain it.

MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD

Falin and Marcille are depicted in the unfortunate fate the dungeon led them to- Falin as a chimera and Marcille as an unwilling dungeon lord. Their expressions morose yet they interlock their fingers like in the bath scene. The design between them is the summoning circle Marcille stood in while resurrecting Falin. I did my best to copy the runes as closely as I could.

The golden feathers of the wing lion embrace the scene, and his symbol is also displayed at the bottom. Specifically, it is made to look like Kensuke's guard, a subtle nod to Laios, who is such an important person for both of these women. Thistle frames it with his ties to the lion, the dungeon, and his role, intentionally (with Falin's) or unintentionally (with Marcille's) unfortunate fates.

In the background, two scenes are specific to each character, and two have shared meanings for the characters. On the right, Falin's staff is lit up with magic, like the kind that teleported her party out and martyred herself. On the left is Marcille's mindscape library- the scene split in half between the black and gray of a nightmare and the color of a dream. Both symbolize driving forces in their lives- Falin's to protect those she loves no matter what, and Marcille's to escape her fears (and her own way of trying to protect those she cares about). At the bottom is the beginning- the raspberries they shared as girls that signified the start of their friendship. At the top, it wasn't the final ending but an ending nonetheless. The rabbits are tied to Falin because the rabbit stew is the catalyst to have her die for another time, a meal when one is starving, feeling like salvation despite death (Can't death be considered salvation on its own?). The rabbits also signal an extremely traumatic event for Marcille as she watched all her friends die because of them- once again, either actively in the case of her party or as the result of in the case of Falin.

[erinaeris]

Laios Touden and the Responsibility of Power

First off, let me gush just a bit about how fucking STRONK this man is. Olympic weightlifters are dying of sheer envy and lust over this man. He is a FUCKING POWERHOUSE.

My favorite panels ever, and judging by the cropping of the second photo, Tumblr agrees.

AHEM, where was I?

Ah yes. He's not just strong and incredibly hot, my man is literally an invasive species in this dungeon. He knows every single weak spot of every monster Thistle tried to throw at him and when he finds it he just fucking RAMS HIMSELF AT THEM AND TAKES THEM DOWN.

And when he's a dwarf HE LITERALLY BENDS STEEL.

"Beat Namari at arm wrestling"? My boy, she wouldn't let you anywhere near because you'd FUCKING BREAK HER HER HAND ALONG WITH THE TABLE. (It's such a fucking shame we didn't see Senshi at least raising an (perfectly plucked except it just grows that way naturally) eyebrow in the background when he sees this. Alas, he was too distracted by his hair.)

But I mentioned responsibility, didn't I? Strength is power in the dungeon, and we all knows what comes with great power. And Laios is, in fact, very responsible with that power!

(Futther examples under the cut, wee bit spoilers for anime watchers)

This scene lives rent-free in my head forever, because of two things: Thistle suddenly realizing just what the hell he's up against,

And Laios breaking Thistle's arm.

Now, I think Laios didn't mean to actually break his arm here, he's just half-blind and dizzy and knows he has to restrain Thistle or it will all go to shit. So that's what he does. The move you see above is a restraining hold. The point is that the person pinned down can't struggle much because the position of the arm presses the suprascapular nerve, so it hurts a lot, but unless they're held that way for too long they'll be fine.

But Thistle is TINY and elves are generally fine-boned. I think Laios really did just underestimate his strength.

And the moment the dragons aren't an IMMEDIATE THREAT anymore?

Laios heals him. Thistle's a better mage than him by miles, he could have done it himself. But no. Laios does it. He was too rough, too careless with his strength, and he immediately backtracked, fixed what he broke, and continued with more mindfullness.

And these are just the examples that stuck in my mind the most. And it happens often enough that the team isn't even fucking surprised! Laios' strength would 100% scare people who only saw him in a barfight and didn't know anything else about him. Hell, the other adventurers they meet fucking quiver before this guy who just took down a monster they had nightmares about in one blow, up until he opens his mouth and they relax. You put more malevolent software in that sort of hardware and he'd be the next Shadow Governor.

But Laios is Laios. He's a gentle soul at heart (a Great Pyrenese, specifically, the gentlest souls ever unless you're out for their flock) and he is VERY CAREFUL with his strength, ESPECIALLY around his team. Chilchuck, who is literally half his size and underfed to boot, can smack Laios as much as he wants with ZERO fear because Laios is aware he can hurt Chilchuck by literally tripping over him, so he just stays still and lets Chilchuck smack at him. I'd be surprised if he ever managed to leave a bruise. Chilchuck has to aim at Laios' weak spot (back of the knee here) just to get Laios to notice him!

But because I have some experience with marital arts and close combat, I think the fight with Shuro exemplifies my point so fucking well! Laios is HURT here, he's living every autistic person's worst nightmare.

And he HOLDS BACK. His restraint is fucking IMMACULATE.

Shuro is fucking lucky Laios still liked him when he started talking shit, because he would have broken his spine otherwise. Laios doesn't even take the fight seriously! He starts with a fucking SLAP.

Shuro retaliates with an actual punch (that does nothing but piss him off)

Laios wobbles. Shuro HITS THE DIRT.

And this is the part where he realizes just how outside his weight category he is. Shuro definitely has technique on his side, but that means jackshit when you need ten blows to to even bruise your opponent, but one hit from them will leave you drinking through a straw for a week. For a second there, Shuro thought he was in ACTUAL DANGER.

But instead of finishing the job, Laios tries to talk him down, which just sets him off again. Man was at his fucking LIMIT, and it snapped. Self-preservation who?

And the best part is? Shuro is throwing all his strength behind his punches and Laios just takes them, but Laios? He mostly pushed Shuro around!

They're mostly grappling here, precisely because Laios is very conscious his friend is pretty fragile right now.

And when he does have enough?

Shuro is flat on the ground again, and Laios has a black eye and a bloody nose. He sits down and five minutes later he's ready to go! Like yes, Shuro was at a low point here, but he's been mowing through monsters at only a bit slower pace than Laios' party. He's no weakling regardless. And Laios had to HOLD BACK SO HE WOULDN'T HURT HIM. And it's so obvious that Maizuru takes one look at the two of them and leaves them to their toussling.

When I saw her reaction I had to scroll back and take another look, because I was sure she would intervene! But she doesn't! She is aware of Laios' strength, she has to be, and she doesn't lift a finger to help her precious charge. She knows the big dog he's wrestling with knows to watch his strength.

And that's my whole point: my boi is STRONK AF! And he is very aware of his strength, and how he could hurt the people around him is he wasn't careful, so he is ALWAYS CAREFUL. He has deeply internalized the fact that to have strength is to be careful with it, to use it in service of people rather than to hurt them (possibly from his dad). He is going to SUCH a good king! He's not going to like the job but by GOD he will do it really well.

And I will give my right arm to see a fic about the first corrupt lord/governor/courtier who attempts to misuse their authority for their own gain. Kabru's gonna have to talk Laios out of an execution.