#also 2am writing

[s-dazzlegarden]

A little something on the side

"Senpai, sensei, why would you do this to us? To me?! I thought you loved me!"

"Yugo, I was not apart of this. At all. Neither was Ike. We were here to chat. The rest of them were the culprits," you sighed tiredly, patting the blue haired disk jockey who was sobbing dramatically into your lap.

The aforementioned male sniffled before lifting his head, showing his teary face as water dripped from his locks and .. well, everywhere.

'They really spared no mercy,' you thought wryly, as you reached a hand out to cup his face. Brushing your thumb under his eyes to wipes the water and tears away gently, you shifted your gaze from him to the novelist at your side who had been observing your interaction with his student.

"I think it's time to reign in our boys Ikey."

"Do we have to (N/n)? I'm open to leaving them here to suffer at the hands of our juniors," Ike mumbled, stuffing his face into your shoulder.

Chuckling a little at his words, you patted your free hand on his thigh to signal for him to get up and join you in your fetch quest.

After ushering Yugo to go get himself dried and changed, both you and Ike trudged up the stairs towards the room where you hear the most amount of chaos coming from. Mentally preparing yourselves for what they were doing, you pushed open the door.

Only to be met with a water balloon to your face... Twice

"Oh shoot, sorry (N/n)! I thought it was Yugo," Shu apologised as he immediately dropped the remaining water balloons he was carrying (making them explode over the floor!) and stumbled over to you, patting your face and hair dry with his sleeves.

"Oh god are you okay senpai?" Fulgur asked, popping his head up from behind a chair only to have a balloon explode in his face.

"GOD DAMMIT VOXY!"

"IT WASN'T ME ASSHOLE!" came Vox's indignant reply as he too popped his head up only to also meet the same fate as the cyborg.

"Take that bitch."

"Uki?!"

-

Hello my sweets 💕 I truly apologize for the long disappearance once more. After I promised to come back, I actually fell sick for a really long while and this is my first time feeling well enough. I've been sleeping a lot too hence the writing at the odd timing

(It is currently 2:17am as of me writing this)

I do hope you can forgive me! I'll have part 4 up in a few hours after a good night sleep. I can feel my medication kicking in so I'm going to go rest. I swear on my stupid stuffy nose that I'll have part 4 and if possible maybe a part 5? (Idk how long I'll have this series for) up today. I'll also proofread and edit later on.

Happy White Day my sweets 💕 A present from me to you!

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[radioroxx]

i do not have . the energy or time or motivation to make Whole comes for how scenes and bits would play out in the bonnie in the loops au. this one i did for a lil fun :)

also important note but not really important bonnie was nooooot invited to the loop hangout :/ they came anyway which complicated things but dw about it

[harryforvogue]

a fic about harry and faye where faye needs to be picked up because it's snowed so bad and also she's feeling very very needy. has smut so be careful. or not. do whatever you like. DO leave feedback though or else i will fucking haunt you

***

Faye calls Harry at around 6pm.

He’s asleep, his iPad abandoned by his side with the pen still between his fingertips. He doesn’t know what time he dozed off, but he’s got to thank Faye for the portable heater she bought him for Christmas. It’s magnificent.

Getting himself out of bed to reach for his phone is difficult. When he finally manages, the only thing that makes him pick up is Faye’s photo.

He brings it to his ear. “Hi, baby.”

Immediately, he can hear the frown in her voice. “Oh no. I woke you up.”

“It’s all right,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to sleep anyways. I’ll barely get a few hours at night if I nap now.” He brings his phone back to his bed and sits down. “What’s up?”

“Um, well I just finished rehearsals.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Got out early?”

“Yes, it’s snowing pretty bad now.”

“Mm, is it?” He forces himself to get back up and take a peek out his curtains. She’s right; the snow lays on the roads, flurries all around still. “You wanna stay on the phone with me until you get home?”

“That’s kind of the thing. I’ve been at this bus stop for 15 minutes and my app keeps saying the bus is about to come, but the roads aren’t properly cleared so I don’t think it’s coming.”

Harry frowns. “You’re outside?”

“Yeah. I walked to the stop, but it’s like a ghost town here. Nobody’s out driving. The buses may have all been canceled.”

“Oh shit. Are you wearing warm clothes? Gloves and all?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Which stop are you at today? I’ll come get you.”

There’s instant relief in her voice. “Thank you.” She tells him which stop and then sighs softly. “It’s not that cold which is good. I suppose I should sit down on the bench but there’s ice on it and I already slipped while walking here. My butt still hurts.”

Harry groans as he tugs his jacket on and grabs an extra beanie. He shoves his feet into his shoes and grabs his keys. “Don’t tell me that,” he says. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Faye laughs. “I’m okay.”

“Think you can hold on for 15 minutes?”

“Yes, but Harry you have to drive safely, okay? The inner roads aren’t cleared at all.”

Harry sticks a piece of gum in his mouth. “Yeah, love, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna stay on the phone with me?”

“Um, I would, but I can barely feel my fingers.”

Harry has to groan again. He’s outside now and thankfully his car isn’t looking too bad. He’ll still need to defrost it a bit. “Faye, you just told me you had gloves!”

“Whoops.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up, but please try to get warm. Go into one of those shops nearby.”

“The only shop open near me is the chicken shop.”

“Go in there.”

“I don’t like the smell of chicken.”

“I must say that you are insanely difficult today.”

Faye giggles. “I’m not.” She must hear him turn his ignition on. “Okay, bye now. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

She hangs up. Harry has to step out of the car with his snow brush, pushing his way over to clean his windshields. He’s blasting the heat on the inside, and within ten minutes, he’s ready to go. When he gets back in his car, he’s muttering swears, trembling with the cold. “Not that cold, my ass.”

And Faye’s right. The inner roads are horrendous. He drives so below the speed limit, he may as well walk to get her. 15 minutes turn into 20 and by the time he’s pulling up to her bus stop, he’s very worried Faye may be a frozen block of ice. 

Faye wobbles her way over to the car, yanking the door open and all but throwing herself inside. She’s shivering so bad, Harry puts the car in park and reaches over the console to hug her tightly.

“For fuck’s sake, Faye,” he mutters, suppressing a shiver at her cold face pressed into his neck. “I told you to go into the shop!”

“If y-you made me wait any longer, I would have!”

“I drove as fast as I could.”

Harry turns the heat up higher and rubs her arms firmly, trying to get her tight muscles to relax. She’s wearing a winter jacket, yes, but her head is uncovered and she doesn’t even have a scarf. He pulls back to look at her, hoping there’s disappointment on his face. But Faye’s eyes just light up and then she’s lifting her head to get a kiss.

He can’t say no.

He cups her face and softly kisses her. Her lips are cold, but he can still taste the cherry chapstick as if she kept reapplying it every few minutes. She kisses him several more times, but when she places her frozen hands on his neck, he pulls away sharply.

“Faye!” He holds his neck as if wounded. “That’s so cold!”

Faye’s knees bounce. “Sorry!"

She doesn’t look sorry.

He grabs the beanie he’s brought her and throws it onto her head. Her bangs get caught on her forehead, momentarily blinding her, and she laughs, fixing the hat. Her black hair frames her cheeks. She reaches in for another kiss, but Harry stops her with a shake of his head.

“Get warm first. Or else you’ll get hypothermia and then I’ll have nobody to kiss.”

Faye says, “Wow you sound a lot like me.” She holds her trembling hands by the vents, shivering so bad, she’s compelled to make audible noises to show how cold she is, her jaw quivering. Harry starts driving the car again, and once he gets off the main street, he reaches for her hand and holds it in his lap.

“How were rehearsals?”

“Okay,” she says, shoulders shaking. “Maybe people couldn’t come in today because of the snow. I had to do, like, three roles.”

“Opening night is next month, right?”

“Yup. I got you your tickets.”

Harry kisses the back of her hand, squeezing her pale fingertips hard. She's painted her nails dark blue, he notices. “Thank you. Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s get something to eat then. I don’t have anything at home. Didn’t cook today.”

“Oh. Are we going to yours?”

“Yes.”

“Can I stay over?”

Harry smiles. “Yes.”

“Is Timmy home?”

“Nope.”

“Can we play that video game again?”

Harry sends her a look. “I thought you’d want to watch a movie or something.”

“Well, if you want to. But I had a lot of fun playing that game.”

“Yes, you were so good at it.”

She was not. Harry spent the entire night trying to save her, getting himself killed, and then yelling and begging her to stay alive until he could be revived. Faye had a lot of fun it seems, though Harry wouldn’t say it was a very productive night.

But, if she wants to do it, then they will.

“I feel like I’ll be better tonight,” Faye says, leaning forward to put her face against the air vent. Her eyes flutter shut. “We’ll get to the next level.”

“You mean level two.”

She laughs.

Harry’s pulling up to the take out shop they’ve agreed on when his phone goes off. He answers it on the car’s speakerphone.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Hey,” Timothée’s voice rings out. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m with Faye picking up food.”

“Oh cool. Hey, can you pick me up from the shop, man? My car’s fucking buried.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, that’s fine. When are you off work?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you.”

“Cool, and hey–”

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab me some food? I’ll pay you back.”

Harry says, “I’ll think about it.”

There’s silence on the other line until Timmy says, “Faye?”

She leans in. “Yeah?”

“Can you make sure he gets me food? I’ll Venmo you right now.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks. Bye!” And then he hangs up.

Harry rubs his eye and then unbuckles his seat belt. Faye goes to do the same, but he stops her, shaking his head. “No, you need to stay warm.”

“I’m fine!”

“Nope.” He locks the car after opening his door and gives her a meaningful look. She watches him disappear into the shop.

When he comes back, he thinks she’s looking a lot better. The red in her cheeks has returned and she’s reapplying her chapstick without shaking fingers. He leans over and kisses her, pleased that her lips aren’t frozen anymore. Unexpectedly, she holds onto his collar and kisses him harder, and she doesn’t let him go until he’s chuckling against her lips and trying to pry away.

“What’s gotten into you?” he murmurs, peppering kisses down to her jaw. She shivers, but not from the cold this time.

“Just missed you.”

“Mm.” He kisses her cheek. “I missed you too.”

It’s a lot harder to drive after that, especially because Harry’s hand rests on Faye’s thigh, and she keeps playing with his fingers, occasionally pulling his hand up to kiss his palm. 

When they get to the shop, Timmy rushes into the car and slaps a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you, man. This is great. Thanks. Hey, Faye.”

“Hi.”

“You’re coming over?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Did you get me any food?”

“Yes we did.” She hands him the aux cord when he asks for it. They listen to his odd taste in music for the ride home.

Harry takes Faye up to his room when they get home. Timmy’s nearly falling asleep so he eats his food quietly and then heads to his own room with a reminder through the walls that he’d appreciate it if Harry and Faye kept it down.

Faye says, “I don’t know why he always says that,” as she’s climbing into Harry’s lap on his bed in his shirt only. He looks up at her, eyes shining, his hands resting just below her butt. She wraps her arms around his neck. “We’ve never been that loud.”

“I mean I certainly haven’t,” Harry teases, pulling her down onto his thighs.

“Me neither!”

“Sure.”

Faye can’t come up with a response, so she kisses him, and then turns around in his lap, back pressed to his warm, strong chest. He places his hand on her thigh, holding her to him. As he’s setting up the game, she reaches over and grabs his iPad, turning it on to see his latest sketch.

It’s a very daunting looking dragon with detailed wings and scales. She zooms in to see all of it, thoroughly impressed. “This is so cool, Harry!”

“Yeah? Thanks, baby. Had a client say she wanted a big dragon piece so I’ve been brainstorming.”

“Where does she want it?”

“Around her bicep.”

“It must hurt like crazy.”

Harry hooks his chin over her shoulder and hugs her tight to him. “Yeah, but as long as they’re happy with it, right?”

She turns her head to look at him with her devastatingly pretty eyes. “Have you done any cool ones this week?”

He makes a show of thinking really hard. “Did a decent snake two days ago.”

“Ooh. Will you post the pictures?”

“Yeah. Haven’t had the time to.”

Faye cradles his face and kisses his cheek. “I’ll be the first person to like it.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, tilting his head back so she can continue her kisses down his neck.

His eyes flutter shut as Faye’s hands run over his arms, gently pressing herself back against him. He feels her breath hitch.

“Faye,” he softly admonishes. “You said you wanted to play the game.” 

“It’s still loading,” she whispers back, shaking him off to be able to turn in his arms again. The force she kisses him with throws him off. He’s pushed back, hands flying out to steady himself against his mattress. She wraps her legs around him and kisses him breathless, her fingers trailing up the sides of his head and then burying themselves into his curls. She presses herself against him again, and then she gently licks at him. Harry welcomes her tongue when he parts his lips.

She kisses him like she hasn’t been kissed properly in years – which is simply untrue because he kisses her until she forgets her name on a routined basis. Faye presses herself even closer, and when the first whine leaves her throat, Harry’s arms are around her, dragging her hips against his. She sighs as if that small contact between them has caused her such release.

The TV makes a noise to tell them the game has finished loading. Faye’s mouth shows no signs of letting him up. Harry pulls up for a second to breathe, and then kisses her again, leaning into her with his hands spread out against her back. They stay there until he’s sliding his fingers under his shirt that she wears, slowly pushing her until she’s laying on her back and Harry’s hovering over her.

“The game,” he whispers.

“Hm?” she manages, rolling her hips against his again, her eyes both innocent and flirty.

He breathes out a swear and then works on pulling the shirt off of her. Faye shivers immediately, but he kisses down her neck and collarbones to warm her up, letting her adjust when she catches onto what he wants to do. She slides back and lets him move further down her body.

“Harry–”

“Yes, baby?”

She changes her mind when Harry’s fingers hook into her underwear. “Oh. Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me,” he says, dragging them down. 

“Well, it’s only that I thought I’d do this for you. Because you, um, picked me up and I wanted to thank you.”

Harry chuckles. “You can do that after this, but right now I have a feeling you’re going to explode if I don’t touch you. Care to tell me what’s got you so worked up? I fucked you so well just two days ago.”

Faye throws a hand over her eyes and Harry doesn’t know if it’s because she’s forced to answer his question while unclothed or if it’s his words that embarrass her. Possibly both.

“It’s because you came to get me and your voice was so deep and raspy and tired and your hand on my thigh and–”

Harry situates himself between her legs and lets her knees come up besides his head. He kisses her soft inner thighs and wraps his arms around them. Faye lifts her head to glance down at him and then moans softly when he licks into her. Slowly. Teasingly.

Her black hair is fanned out around her, her breath coming hard and fast. Her lips are parted, pink and swollen from their kisses. She looks ruined already. Harry will never get used to the sight. He never wants to.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, throwing her head down. Her eyes flutter shut as Harry leans in and takes over completely, his skilled mouth ruthless against her. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her down though she desperately raises herself to meet his mouth.

“Oh, I love you,” she whispers, threading her fingers into his hair. “So much.”

He sucks and licks and laps diligently until her back is gently arching off his mattress and she has to bite down on her knuckles to keep her noises in. Seeing her like this turns Harry on, his body on alert. He feels like every cell of his body has been electrified, but despite his arousal, all he wants is for Faye to fall apart against him.

It doesn’t take her long. Her thighs tremble. She cries out and yanks his hair. The pain is distant to him. Harry lets her use his tongue to ride out her high, and when she’s done, she’s whimpering from sensitivity. Harry only pulls away when she’s whining, “Ah, okay, okay, that’s it, please. No more.”

He grins at her, gently wiping the corners of his mouth. “Always so good for me.”

Faye covers her face. Harry helps her back into her clothes and then lays beside her until she’s ready to turn to him and kiss him. He kisses her hair. “My darling girl,” he whispers. “My baby. So perfect."

She’s straddling him before five minutes are up, her hands resting on his chest, hair falling like curtains around her flushed face. The strands hit Harry’s cheek. His hands are on her thighs again, and he’s smiling lazily at her.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, running his hand up to her waist. 

Faye swallows and grinds down on his length through his sweatpants. “My turn?”

“We can take a break if you w–”

“No,” she says immediately, fingers already pulling Harry’s shirt up. Her eyes hungrily take in every tattoo she slowly reveals. Harry lifts his head to pull the shirt off.

Faye seems to have something in mind already. So Harry just lets her undress him, enjoying the kisses she trails after her hands. She has plenty of energy, preferring to stay on top of him instead of switching back over. 

She works herself over him until she’s throwing her head back and nearly sobbing with relief. Harry watches the pleasure roll over her, her hands in tight fists against his chest. 

“I love you,” she says again, taking deep breaths when it’s over. Her face is a gentle pink, her chest flushed. “I love you so bad, Harry.”

Once he’s pulled out of her, he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her down to him, wrapping his arms around her tight. “I love you,” he says, kissing all over her face, wiping the corners of her eyes. “My pretty girl, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Spent, Faye lets him cuddle her, her face pressed against his neck. His body is warm and as comforting as always. He mutters how much he loves her several more times.

Some time later again, Faye raises her head from his chest and says in her scratchy voice, “Should we play now?”

And Harry kisses her and says, “Yes, baby.”

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

solomon couldn't stand your pact marks.

well, no, that wasn't the right way to put it. he was proud, even jealous of your pacts. they were one of the many admirable things about you! he just hated... looking at them. he knew what other people thought when they saw them.

when one would see those marks on your skin for the first time, they would be able to get a glimpse at your relationship with the brothers. one of trust and respect, gathered from just a glance. meanwhile, one would have to be told about his and your relationship. one look at you couldn't decipher all the time you two have shared together, filled with chatting between classes, practicing magic for hours, and endless love.

at first, solomon tried to mitigate this with his own marks upon your skin. wearing lipstick as he placed a kiss on your neck, a few stray bite marks from your time together at night. but those, while fun, were temporary. and solomon needed something permanent.

why not a ring?

(Hope you don't mind me adding on, anon. Thank you for the delicious meal! Literally so honored to read your beautiful work! 🥹)

Getting the ring was the easy part. Getting you away from the brothers long enough to propose...was not.

The lengths Solomon went through to be able to have a private moment with you might put him in a record book as the three realms' most whipped man. With the mask of his "shady" persona secured, he lets his silver tongue weave him through these seven obstacles, the sin of each dripping from it with only you on his mind.

Swallowing his pride, breathing in greed, spitting out envy...his wrath, lust, gluttony, and sloth. A vicious rinse, repeat until he's either buttered them up or grated them down until they finally gave in. But he did it. With the day cleared of any interruptions, his plans were set in motion.

He decides to have a redo of your very first date, flying you up and walking in the sky amongst the stars. It's just the two of you against the ever inky black sky of the Devildom, a place that has become synonymous with your presence. Only this time, there are no surprise gales, no surprise drones -- just the surprise of a velvet heart-shaped box in the inside pocket of his coat.

Solomon brings up fond memories of your time together as you both near the spot he's picked to pop the question. He's filled with a giddy glee that soon you'll have something that binds you to him, something to show the world you're his.

Still, there's a little voice in the back of his head reminding him that you could say no. That perhaps he's not worthy. Does he deserve to have matching rings adorned on his and your fingers forevermore? Does he dare stand by your side as your equal when you are, in fact, so far above him?

He decides it's best not to dwell on such thoughts as this is meant to be a happy occasion, as long as all goes well.

Your feet touch the ground once he lowers you both on top of a cliff that overlooks the Devildom, the moon hanging brightly above. As you take in the magnificent sight, he lowers himself on one knee behind you, waiting with bated breath for you to turn on your own volition.

The moment you do, he knows he'll have to keep this memory stored away with his magic, just staring in awe. The moon is angled just right that it shines right behind your head like a halo. Your eyes are as wide as saucers while your jaw is slacked. With the way you look, he truly wonders if he's in the Celestial Realm.

Nervously, Solomon begins his improvised speech after clearing his throat, "my dearest apprentice, it is with great honor that I'm knelt before you tonight. I have dreamt of this moment more than I'd care to admit, yet I never thought it'd come true. But here I am, willing to give you all of me, if you're willing to give me all of you. You are the sun to my moon, the air in my lungs, the very reason why I believe I've lived so long. I was always meant to find you and work side by side to protect the human realm together. And most importantly, to love you. So, please do this old sorcerer a favor...by marrying me..."

He pulls out the ring box, opening it to offer you the ring within. The blessed box is shaking as he trembles, waiting patiently for your answer.

Happy tears spring from his eyes once you say, "yes." The ring is carefully slipped onto your finger, and a single word comes to Solomon's mind.

Mine.

[robiinurheart33]

CHAPTER 22 SPOILERS FOR THE NEON VOID‼️‼️

Haha wdym no I didn’t read the chapter almost one month after it came out wdym that’s crazy haha

ANYWAYS NEON VOID BRAINROT ANYONE?? As usual a magnificent read what can I say @sugarpasteltmnt is SO SO talented after I read this chapter I stared off into space for like a solid minute before laughing hysterically like Leo because MY GOD the adrenaline rush is so real. What compliment can I say that hasn’t been said about this fic. It gives me such goosebumps and the action sequences are just. Muah. Breathtaking. I cannot wait to read the next chapter and keep up the good work!! /lh /all pos

(Clicks for Palestine!!!)

[amvro]

pairing: amuro tooru x reader

summary: he is home late (again) but you love to stay up for him

cw: i would not say suggestive but a lot of kissing implied ? IDK IM SORRY, it’s very short

It wasn’t rare for you to be staying up waiting for him to come home, but tonight he was especially late coming home and he truly did not expect you to still be up. The clock almost ticked 3:30am and he truly wished he didn’t have to stay out so late if he knew you would still be up. He was going to ask why you were still up and tell you about how you should’ve just slept without him, but he knew you would tell him you would be too worried to fall asleep regardless. 

“I’m so sorry I was so late,” he said, apologetically. “But really, next time you shouldn’t mind me. It’s far too late.”

“And it’s far too late for you to be out with no one to greet you when you come home,” you replied with a soft smile. Gosh he was in love with you. “Waiting for you to come home is one of my happiest times, at least let me do this much. Besides, it’s a Friday we get to sleep in tomorrow.”

And you were absolutely correct. Although he’d tell you every single time to go ahead and sleep, it still warmed his heart when he saw you reading a book or scrolling through your phone with a warm tea, waiting for him to come home. The way your face would brighten up when he came home was truly the only thing that could heal him from a long day at work.

“I’ll hop in the shower real quick, so go to sleep okay? It’s still not good to be up this late,” he said as he took off his coat and put his stuff down, getting ready to step into the bathroom.

“Wait,” you said, almost subconsciously.

“What is it, love?”

“Oh, um,” you said, you hadn’t meant to say it out loud. You looked up at him slightly embarrassed. “....kiss?”

A faint blush covered his face as his eyes narrowed and lips pursed. He did not understand how you managed to make his heart flutter from such simple words after all this time, but he did understand that this wasn’t going to go away. He walked right back to you and pressed a kiss on your lips. He was going to kiss you again when he resisted the temptation and kissed you on your forehead instead. 

“Why not?” you asked quietly. You were going to kill him if you kept this up.

“Because I’m not going to be able to stop at this rate,” he said, but you went and kissed him instead.

“But I don’t want you to...” you said. That was it, he was giving in. Saving the country was a whole lot easier of a challenge than the ones you gave him it seemed.

“Okay, now you’ve done it,” he said, kissing you again. 

The shower will have to wait a little. 

[wanderingblindly]

Too Close to Touch (Lando Norris/Oscar Piastri, 2.3k words, oneshot)

"Sit up," Oscar groans, aiming for a more demanding tone than he can gather with Lando's mouth sucking lightly at his neck – not enough to bruise. Lando makes a noise in response, petulant and determined, that makes Oscar's head spin. Like he's addicted to him, unwilling to let go. Like this isn't some fucking insane bet that they made during the driver's parade. Or, Lando and Oscar make a bet: how important are hands when it comes to kissing, anyways?

READ HERE!

This is rated EXPLICIT for sexual content.

I saw a kinkmeme post for Charlos that was like "let's kiss with our hands behind our backs, and the first person to give in loses". That stuck with me, as a concept.

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

What do you do when someone you love is a psychopath and a serial killer? How do you pick up your life and move on from it?

If you're Lionel Luthor, you don't. Your son betrays you and the legacy you built for him, and so your heart betrays you too. You sit at your desk with those damn pills your quack of a doctor prescribed and one too many drinks. You feel a warning twinge on your arm before excruciating pain, red and angry, blooms in your chest, and you never see the morning. 

The only good thing about this is that you never see your son go to trial for killing 47 people over a span of 6 years. People whisper that you are one of Lex Luthor’s victims.

If you’re Lillian Luthor, you don’t either. You clean the damned mess these Luthor men left you. You take over the company that your husband had the gall to leave you, just as he left you with your only daughter. You clean up the tatters of your family’s reputation and legacy that your son left behind. 

In the eyes of the world, you move on. You rise, finally able to flex the muscles so long held back by your husband and the rest of the world's expectations. And you bring Luthor Corp with you. 

The millstone of the trials and scandal hang heavy on your neck, but all your life you have taught yourself to walk gracefully among lesser beings with your back straight and your head held high, just as you did as a young girl with textbooks on your head. This is no different.

But once a month, you make a pilgrimage to Stryker’s Island. To Lex. To the son you loved the best way you knew how, the only way you knew how - with a firm grip and the relentless, uncompromising push to achieve excellence, the intractable determination to make him grow into his fullest potential. That this potential was realized in murder, malice and manipulation was not your intent, but the world is far too quick and vindictive in their judgement because he is a Luthor. The mightiest always fall the farthest, and those beneath them wait hungrily for the chance to pull them down.

Your daughter leaves you too. The daughter who emerged, not from your body, but from your husband's infidelity. The same one who once looked up at you with eyes full of innocent trust that you vowed you would reciprocate in the best way you knew how. And so you did your best to prepare her, to mold her in your own image - into what a Luthor woman should be in this cruel, savage world that both worships and hates Luthors. 

You’ve seen what the world does to Luthors who do or say the smallest wrong thing and you never want her to suffer those whispers and so you tell her yourself. Better she hears it from family than the mouths and forked tongues of strangers.

But she is too hard-headed and too soft-hearted to comply. She rejects your bequest, the ungrateful girl, and tries to escape the Lena Luthor you tried so hard to cultivate all these years. 

As if you don't know. As if you could forget that it was her who brought this down upon all of you. Her, and that detestable Clark Kent. 

And if you are Lena Luthor, you cannot move on. You cannot escape it. No matter how far you stray from your family. No matter how many reparations you make, no matter how hard you strive to separate yourself from the curse it brings -- it always finds you.

It finds you in the dark hours when you’re by yourself without the touch of another woman or the burn of alcohol to distract you - and suddenly you’re a scared little girl again, walking into an ominous house made of grim oak, unforgiving marble and dark shadows. And the only warmth you receive is not from a largely absent and formidable father nor from a condescending and controlling mother, but from a charismatic and mercurial brother who taught you how to play chess and promised you the world.

But it turns out his shadow was the darkest of all, and you didn't see until it was too late.

How could you not see it?

You were just a girl at that time, Agent J'onzz once tried to comfort you with that fact. Back when Lex was arrested.

Just a schoolgirl home for the holidays -- shoes polished as bright as the naivete in your eyes, uniform pressed to Lillian's exact standards, picture perfect but always with just one tiny detail you forgot that was enough to attract notice and invite criticism. This time it was the glasses sitting slightly crooked on your face. 

You were more concerned with weathering the scorching disapproval just long enough until you got back to boarding school that you failed to notice Lex's distance. You failed to recognize the signs. You failed to decode his lies.

You failed.

By the time you got back to boarding school, he would have killed 2 more people.

By the time you caught on, he'd already killed 31. Those lives are all on you, because you were so absorbed by yourself, you didn't see what was happening under your nose. And those 3 agents Lex killed because he refused to come quietly? The judge and jury he poisoned at the trial? That's on you too.

Forty-seven lives taken. Forty seven more than there should have been if you hadn't been so blind. 

If only you hadn't been comforted by the gentle hand holding yours under the table throughout Lillian's litanies of your shortcomings everytime you were home from school. If only you hadn't fallen for the "adventures" he had tricked you into that always ended with you in disgrace or punished, like that time you stole Lionel's prized pen from the King of Jordan, just for him. 

If only you hadn't believed the fairy-tale dream of the two of you escaping to the snow-covered mountain peak, of finally being free of the Luthors’ oppressive presence.

And now he's serving 20 consecutive life sentences, and you've devoted your life to studying and stopping people like him.

Now you have 10 years of experience as a profiler and an undercover operative for both the Interpol and the FBI. Your work has taken you from Toran, to Kaznia, to Corto Maltese, to Metropolis, and now to National City.

You have seen the worst humanity has to offer, from terrorists to human traffickers to serial killers. But you keep looking into the abyss.

Because you looked into it once, you stared it in the face, and you didn't recognize it for what it was. 

_________

Or, a Supercorp Criminal Minds AU

There's actually 3 major plots in this, and they all intersect in varying ways

The first is Lex as a serial killer

The second is about Sam and Reign

The third is the most vague one, which includes Lena’s birth mother and Leviathan

It starts (as the intro says) with Lex being a serial killer who killed 47 people. In one version of this story, Clark is a reporter who, like Lena,  made the connection between Lex and the murders. One night after dinner  with the Luthors, Clark sneaks into Lex’s study to find evidence he can use for his story. 

He’s rummaging in a desk when he hears a voice from the doorway.

“You  won’t find anything there.” Clark whips around to find Lena standing  there, silhouetted against the light coming from the hall. He tenses,  thinking she’s about to tell her brother what Clark was doing. 

“If  Lex really is behind these murders, and I know you think he is, you  won’t find anything there. He’s not foolish enough to hide evidence  here." 

Clark doesn’t say anything, he just stares at her.  Lena pauses, looking away. "I… I didn’t want to believe it. Not Lex… He  wouldn’t…” Steel injects itself into her green gaze. “But the more time I  spend with him, the more clearly I see the truth. You see it too, don’t  you?" 

Clark straightens up and nods gravely. “Yes.”

The FBI eventually becomes involved in the investigation, and the team includes a certain agent on the fast track to becoming the unit chief, J’onn J’onzz.

J’onn meets Lena only briefly, but he’s struck by the young girl’s keen intelligence and remarkable calm. (Eventually, he becomes the one who suggests that Lena consider a career in profiling and criminal psychology).

Fast forward a couple of decades later, Lena is working with the BAU. The other members of the team here are J'onn, Alex, James, Brainy and Winn. Lena is a transfer from Interpol, and she's had years of experience in profiling, suspect and victim identification, as well as infiltration, under her belt (I also hc that she worked briefly with the CIA and the MI6, mostly in intel, profiling and undercover work).

For the sake of her anonymity (and also because it was necessary for her undercover work), she's erased all connections to Lex and the Luthors (including old photographs and newspaper articles until the name Lena Luthor is but a footnote in the Luthor history with nothing to tie her to who she is now). She's also changed her last name. (I'm torn because I just don't know if I can use the name Walsh for Lena, it doesn't sound.. right? Idk So for now, she's Agent Kieran).

Lena is very professional, almost intimidating. She’s revered by the younger agents in the Bureau, well-respected by her colleagues and highly praised by her superiors. But she's very guarded and keeps everyone at arm's length, doesn't go out for after-work drinks with the others, practically sleeps with one eye open — years of working undercover and living with a serial killer will do that to you.

Until a certain promising young recruit comes along.

Kara is new in town — the adopted sister of Alex Danvers, the cousin of one of J'onn's old friends (I don't think teaming family members up is actually allowed in the FBI, so some suspension of disbelief is required here). Lena is assigned to oversee her training and transition into the team herself.

Kara's sunny demeanor couldn't clash more with Lena's icy, professional facade. Lena approaches the task with thinly-veiled impatience and something remarkably close to disdain.

However, Kara quickly proves to be more than a perky attitude and a pretty smile. She squirms at blood, which Lena is quick to exploit at first (What FBI profiler can't stand the sight of a corpse? "We profile serial killers here, not celebrities in high-waisted jeans.").

But Kara displays true empathy to the victims and their families, she's sensitive to other people's emotions and knows just what to say to get a reluctant victim or witness talking. She's extremely dedicated to catching the unsubs, and relentless in her investigation. Not to mention, she's extremely handy to have around in a crisis.

Lena finds this last part out when they're on a case, trying to find a missing girl.

The team is headed to the unsub's apartment, but on a hunch, Lena heads to an abandoned warehouse near the apartment, with only Kara as backup. They enter the warehouse, and just as they're clearing the rooms and checking for the missing girl, the unsub attacks Lena and manages to pin her to the ground, choking her. Kara gets there just in time to shoot the unsub in the leg, saving Lena's life.

Later that evening, Kara and the rest of the team go to the bar to celebrate. Lena is absent, as usual.

Just as Kara is getting another round of drinks at the bar, a low, smoky voice interrupts her. "Didn't profile you as a drinker, Danvers.”

Kara squeaks, nearly dropping the drinks, and turns to see Lena smirking behind her. “I wonder what other surprises you're hiding behind those glasses and cardigans."

"Agent Kieran! I didn’t expect to see you here— No, these aren't all for me, I— " Lena's face softens at Kara's babbling, and she takes a few of the shot glasses from Kara's hands.

"You know, I have a rule..." A wry smile lifts one corner of her lipsticked mouth. "Anyone who saves my life gets to call me Lena."

Kara blushes profusely at the other woman’s arched eyebrow. "Well then, if I'm calling you Lena..."

Lena smirks. "Kara it is, then."

For the first time — much to the gaping surprise of the rest of the team she's worked with for years — Lena joins them for a post-case drink.

To everyone's — and no one's — surprise, the pair quickly become the best of friends.

Two days into their friendship, Lena starts jokingly calling Kara Supergirl. Three weeks later, they start grabbing lunch together. Three months in, Kara sends Lena a video of herself petting a St. Bernard on the street only to be bowled over in a mass of furry paws and puppy licks — and the cadets Lena is training are even more bowled over to hear the "Ice Queen" laugh. Of course, they're later treated with a scorching glare and a sharp reprimand, but it's a revelation just to discover that she's actually physically capable of laughing.

By six months, the whole department is in a secret "will they or won't they" betting pool. A year in, and every other department has stakes in the pool (Alex publicly condemns the pool, but secretly bets a hundred bucks that "they will" by winter).

One time while they're eating lunch together, Kara tells Lena why she became a profiler when her career was in journalism.

"It just felt... too late. I'd be covering these stories about these terrible things, people who were already victims, and I thought... it's too late... Don't get me wrong, I loved being a reporter. Journalism was a way to bring truth out there, to give voices to these victims, but.... I wanted - needed - to do something more. I wanted to stop these things from happening. To keep these people from becoming victims."

But despite their growing closeness, Lena has yet to tell Kara about Lex, or about her life before the BAU.

She doesn't tell Kara about the woman she'd loved once, who hates her now because of the lies Lena told her. She doesn't tell her about Reign. She doesn’t tell Kara about the sweet young girl living far, far away, who plays soccer and loves to sing and read. The little girl Lena loves from afar, but knows only through secret updates from James, because it's for her own good.

Because that sweet little girl that Lena hasn't seen since she was a baby deserves to live a life that's whole and good — away from those who love her, but could hurt her. Whether she's thinking about Sam or herself, Lena doesn't know.

There are too many secrets, Lena decides, as she shoves them all one by one into their little boxes, clamping the lid securely shut. Kara is too good to be tainted by any of them.

Kara, who gets squeamish at the sight of blood, but resolutely hunts each killer like an avenging angel. Kara, who somehow, somehow still believes in the good in people.

And when she realizes that there is very little of that to be found in Lena Kieran or Lena Luthor, Kara will hate her as much as Lena hates herself.

But then the day comes when Lena receives a package in the mail.

She reaches in and pulls out two things: one, a chess piece — the white knight — and the other, a surveillance photo of Kara and Lena having lunch together.

On the back of the photograph are three cryptic little words that fill her with dread: “See you soon, sis.”

Panic overrides logic and years of training, and Lena stashes the package and its cursed contents into her safe. Heart racing, she calls the warden at Strykers. It takes several favors, but she manages to procure video footage confirming that her brother is still incarcerated. Despite the visual confirmation, she doesn’t sleep a wink that night, nor the night after.

Everything is quiet after that, so quiet that Lena is almost lulled, if not into a sense of complacency, then at least a state of less vigilance. Everyone needs a breather, a reprieve from paranoia at some point, and that is exactly what Lex is counting on.

A string of seemingly-unrelated murders heralds Lex's return, luring the BAU — and Lena — closer and closer. Lena knows she should leave, and leave soon. The closer the team gets to figuring out it's Lex, the more danger they're in — not just Kara, but the rest of the team that Lena has now come to care for.

But Kara, being Kara, holds onto Lena and keeps her from leaving.

Kara knows her too well now. She knows that something is wrong. She pushes without pushing, in that earnest yet respectful way, relentless in her concern for the people she cares about, yet still mindful and considerate in her efforts. It's one of the things Lena loves about her.

And then, after coming home from a case one night — Kara is shot by an intruder in her apartment.

The whole team is thrown into chaos trying to find Kara’s assailant. They all agree that the attack cannot be random, but there’s a frustrating lack of evidence anywhere.

But Lena knows.

The lack of clues is a glaring clue in and of itself. She knows this is Lex’s handiwork. Her brother’s way of getting back at her for “telling on him”, just like he used to when they were children. Except the stakes are infinitely higher this time, and he has gone too far.

And Lena — who should've known — didn't prevent it. She was too selfish, too greedy, wanting more time — more time with Kara, more time with her team, her family — and now this is the result.

Lena knows that Lex will go after everything and everyone she loves, because he wants to hurt her. Luthors are not raised on half-measures. Win the game, or burn the board. He will not stop, Lena knows this. Not until either of them is dead.

While half the team is waiting at Kara’s bedside, and the other half is delving into Kara’s case — two people are noticeably missing.

Alex can’t bear to see her sister looking so weak and vulnerable in that hospital bed.

Instead, she goes to Kara's apartment to clean her sister’s blood off the wall before Kara gets home from the hospital.

She's just getting a bucket full of soapy water when she hears movement at the door. Alert, Alex already has her gun out and trained at the door.

When the door opens, all Alex sees is a flash of black hair and wide green eyes before she gets a gun aimed at her too.

"Lena?? What the fuck?! What are you doing here??"

Alex puts her gun down slowly, her heart still hammering. Lena cautiously does the same, her hands held out to her sides.

Alex gestures at the door "How did you—?"

"Kara gave me the key three months ago." Lena's eyes haven't lost their wary edge, but she has the decency to look a bit abashed. "She said I could come over anytime."

"Yeah, but Kara's still in the hospital. What are you doing here?"

"I know that," Lena slants her a light glare as she looks around Kara's apartment. "I just — I wanted to make sure the place is secure, and... well... I didn't want Kara to come home to that."

She gestures at the blood-spattered wall, but looks away quickly. As if she, like Alex, can't bear to stand the sight of Kara's blood.

It's funny. They're both seasoned agents, they deal with horrific things on an almost daily basis. The sight of blood rarely fazes either of them anymore. Except this is Kara's blood.

It seems impossible that Lena could get any paler, but here she is, as white as a ghost and looking just as sick as Alex feels. And yet, she's still here. Out of everyone in Kara's circle of friends and family, only Alex and Lena are here, performing a task that somehow seems more terrible than anything either of them have encountered.

It's in this moment that it begins to dawn on Alex just how special Lena is. How special she may still become.

Alex bends down and drags the bucket of soapy water to the wall. She doesn't look at Lena, and instead focuses on the wall and swallows down bile at the sight of her sister's blood. Over her shoulder, she mutters "Grab a sponge."

"That's not gonna be enough. We, um—" Lena clears her throat and chokes out. "— need bleach."

Alex nods curtly. "Under the kitchen sink."

Lena gets the bleach, and the two of them silently begin scrubbing Kara's blood off her walls, and that's that. Once they're done, Alex gets a couple of beers that Kara keeps especially for Alex in her fridge and offers one to Lena.

Then Alex gives her a mild version of a shovel talk lol

And then, two days before Kara is released from the hospital, the news breaks. Lex Luthor, convicted serial killer, has escaped from prison.

All eyes are focused on the BAU screen, except J’onn’s. He turns to his left. Lena Kieran watches the television without batting an eye.

Lena waits only until after Kara has come back home, to make sure that she's safe, that Alex is staying with her for now.

Looking at the blonde tucked into blankets on the couch, soft and vulnerable, Lena can't bring herself to say goodbye, so instead, she just leans over to kiss Kara on the forehead and says good night.

Then without a word, without even packing a bag, Lena Luthor leaves National City to lure her brother out of the shadows.

Lena makes her exit just as the team is on the cusp of finding out that Lena Kieran is Lena Luthor.

She leaves her apartment intact, knowing that Kara and the rest of the team will eventually search it. She sticks the surveillance photo of her and Kara on the bedroom mirror and writes on the glass in red lipstick: "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make this right."

J'onn is the only one who knows the truth of who Lena really is, and in the end, he's the one who tells them.

With Lena gone, it's clear to J'onn that she's about to do something monumentally stupid, like sacrifice herself for the team. He gathers everyone, and tells them the truth.

The group is gathered around the conference table, staring at pictures of young Lena on the screen.

Tiny Lena, not even 5 years old, just after she was adopted by the Luthors, her wide green eyes sad and confused, her little hands clutching a worn, well-loved teddy bear.

Six year old Lena and a teenaged Lex Luthor standing together in front of Lena's new school. The little girl in her neat uniform, holding onto the older boy's hand, looking at her big brother with an adoring smile.

Fifteen year old Lena on summer vacation, and a now-adult Lex, the young girl perched on the hood of a restored vintage car with Lex's hand on her shoulder. Lena is thinner, more gaunt, and her smile less bright, but Lex is different. He's grinning at the camera, looking every inch the charismatic billionaire playboy. You would never know from Lex Luthor's easy smile that he had already been killing for 5 years at this point.

Finally, the last Luthor family portrait, taken the year Lex was arrested. They're a beautiful family, there's no denying that. Each person in the photograph is regal and proud — but in each set face, there's a private war being waged. Lena looks far older than her sixteen years. Her face shows no emotion in each cut line, but her eyes betray all: a somber intensity that's impossible to look away from. Lex is the exact opposite. His smile is charming and draws the viewer's gaze, but his eyes are cold and dead. Within 8 months, Lex would be in prison, Lionel would be dead, Lillian would be running the company, and Lena would no longer be a Luthor.

Kara feels... she doesn't know how she feels.

There's anger, shock, confusion and... hurt. A lot of hurt, a heavy ball of it resting on the base of her spine, mixed with the ache of a longing she doesn't understand, something broken that only confuses her more. So she decides to settle on the anger.

Yes, anger is good. It gives her a sense of purpose and clarity, and it doesn't threaten to make her curl up into a tiny ball. She's angry that her best friend — one of the most important people in her life, second only to Alex — has been hiding all of this from her for years. She's angry that Lena, who has taught her so many things — not just about being a profiler, but about life and love and friendship — didn't trust her enough to tell her about any of this.

Anger is good, because it keeps the tears stinging the back of her eyes from falling, because... because Kara's always thought she knows Lena better than anyone. Had believed that out of everyone, Lena had trusted her, Kara Danvers, enough to get to know her. But now, it seems she doesn't really know Lena at all.

The screen flickers.

Everyone blinks up at the screen in confusion as it begins to glitch. Suddenly, the photos of Lena disappear from the monitors. It’s replaced by what looks like a grainy video feed. Kara turns to J’onn, who shakes his head, frowning. This was not his doing.

“What the hell?” Alex frowns up at the monitor and nudges Winn, who immediately squints into his computer screen. “Who’s doing that?”

“I have no idea...” Winn mutters. “Gimme a second...”

It looks like feed from a surveillance video, except it’s showing what looks like a cabin. Even from the pixelated image, it looks well-decorated, expensive, like something from a country home magazine. Outside the far window, Kara can see a view of snow-capped mountains. Outlined in the middle is a dark shadow of a man.

“They live soft, luxurious lives, don’t they? Your so-called friends. Oblivious, unencumbered by knowledge, and so pathetically... mortal. Fragile.” A smooth baritone voice cuts through the static, and Kara’s blood chills. That voice is familiar. “You and I, we have been trained in the hard school of danger and war. Haven’t we, sister mine?”

Another figure steps out of the shadows and into view, and Kara gasps. Even in the grainy image, Lena’s smile is sharp and icy. “Comparing yourself to Alexander the Great now, are you? But then again, you always were trying too hard, Lex.”

I don't know exactly how happens, I haven't figured it out yet, but Lena confronts Lex with the intention of killing him, except she's the one who's "killed".

And Lex, being the sadistic ass that he is, had the whole thing captured on a hidden camera and it's being broadcast on every BAU monitor, for Lena's family to see.

The whole team watches Lena "die".

But Lena had a failsafe. She told someone of her location, maybe Andrea or Jack or Jess idk, and had them standby to help her in case something happened.

The whole time Lex streams their confrontation, Kara is frantic. The table suffers under her fury, splintering with the force of her desperate grip.

Every time they get nowhere trying to track Lena and Lex, Kara punches the walls, and Alex has to hold her sister back, afraid of how Kara is losing control.

When the feed broadcasts Lena's death, it seems almost unremarkable. One second, Lena is standing, the next she's on the floor, lifeless and unmoving.

A deadly silence grips the BAU conference room. No one is moving, not even breathing. It's as if when Lena dropped dead on the feed, so did they. They wait. And wait.. and wait.

Lena doesn't move.

On the screen, Lex checks his sister's vitals and satisfied, steps over his sister's body and out of sight. The camera blacks out.

They all stare dumbly at the screen for a long moment, afraid to move, as if moving from their frozen spots would make it true.

It's Alex who stirs first. She jumps into action, frantic, ordering Winn to get the feed back, but it's impossible. The room erupts in a blaze of action, but Kara... Kara's the only one left staring at the screen, frozen in shock and disbelief, as if she can't believe it's real.

It’s not. It’s not.

In the interim between Lena's death and the reveal that she’s alive, Kara spends every waking moment hunting down Lex or secretly looking into Leviathan (which she also uncovers when she digs deeper into Lena’s life before the Luthors and learns more about Lena’s mother).

Kara goes down so deep into the rabbit hole, that Alex is genuinely afraid for her sister. She almost prays that they don't find Lex Luthor. Not because she doesn't want that man brought to justice, but because she's afraid of what Kara can and will do once she sees him.

Kara hasn't mentioned Lena's name in months. But then again, most of their team hasn't.

In the months since Lena’s death, two new members have been brought int the BAU team, William Dey and Nia Nal.

William and Nia know very little about Lena from the team itself, because her name is hardly mentioned. Nia only knows Lena through her reputation, and through what Alex and the other agents outside of their team have told her. 

Alex is the only one in the team who says Lena's name because she hates that everyone tiptoes around it.

Lena was their friend. Her friend, and it's not right that everyone flinches at her name, that they can't look at the plaque of her on the memorial wall. She knows how hard it is to look at Lena's picture there, just as hard as it was to look at Kara's blood on the walls.

But Alex is not gonna be the one to look away. Lena didn't look away when they cleaned Kara's blood off the walls, and Alex will not look away from her either. She's gonna hunt Lex Luthor down like the animal that he is and make him pay for taking Lena from their family.

But Alex is getting worried about Kara.

Her sister doesn’t sleep anymore. Barely eats. Kara doesn't stop — she pores over old files of Lex's murders, goes over the old profile, possible places he might be. Alex is worried about her fixation with Lex. It's not healthy. Kara's grief — or her refusal to grieve — is gonna drive her to the ground.

So she confronts Kara about it.

They're in the BAU conference room when Alex finally speaks up, but Kara meets her gaze head on. With one hand, she points to the empty seat Lena used to favor, right across Kara's. "Lena's chair, Alex. What do you see when you look at it?... Nothing, right? We've left it empty all this time. No one can bear to sit it in. Tell me, what do you see, right now?"

Alex glances over at the chair, then back at her sister "Kara..."

"Tell me what you see, Alex."

Alex sighs. "Nothing."

"Exactly. Nothing." Kara nods, her eyes hard. "Do you wanna know what I see? I see her, Alex. I see Lena sitting across from me, just as clearly as I can see you now.”

Alex swallows at the intensity burning in her sister’s eyes.

“I see her everywhere, Alex. All the time. I see her smile, her eyes, and I—" Kara's voice cuts off with a sob. The agony in her eyes is almost too much for Alex to take. It takes a long moment before Kara can speak again.

"I can't stop, Alex. Whenever I stop and I look at her, I — I know she's - she's gone, but she looks so alive, and I— I know the only way I can get any kind of peace about it is knowing that Lex Luthor has been wiped off the face of the earth."

A frisson of fear shivers down Alex's spine. "Killing Lex won't bring Lena back, Kara."

"I know that, Alex." Kara's eyes are dark as flint. "Believe me. I know."

Sometime after Lena’s “death”, the BAU receives an unannounced visitor.

Lillian Luthor strides into the BAU bullpen, tall and imperial in her furs, her icy glare making everyone it lands on feel small and insignificant.

She strides past the bullpen, past Kara, and comes face to face with J’onn. Her cold blue eyes render everyone in the room silent. She scoffs her hatred into his face.

 "Taking my son away from me wasn't enough for you people, was it? You had to take my daughter away from me too. I warned her. I warned her this would be her undoing, and I was right. And now she's dead." 

They end up having to work with Lillian to find Lex, because as Lillian says "It takes a Luthor to find a Luthor." [And there's gonna be an interrogation lol. I just have this vague idea of Lillian talking about Lex and Lena.]

"The truth is, I lost Lena long before now.” Kara suspects that this is the closest anyone has come to hearing regret in Lillian Luthor’s voice.

“I was.... harsh on her, in a way I never was with Lex. Lex always had a sharp edge to him, but Lena — Lena was too soft, too vulnerable. A Luthor cannot be soft. Not when the world is watching, waiting for you to make the smallest mistake."

It’s not enough. It’s nowhere near enough. Kara slams her hands on the table, unable to believe the nerve of this woman. J'onn grips her arm in warning, but Kara ignores him, snarling at Lillian, her anger plain on her face. "You abused her! You made her feel unworthy of love, unable to trust anyone—"

Lillian lifts her chin. "I made sure my daughter could face a world that's hungry for Luthor blood. I made her a Luthor."

"She was just a little girl when she came to you!" Kara shouts, her fury growing by the second. "A little girl whose mother just died, who was looking for love, and instead she found you. She trusted you—"

Lillian's voice rises, a flash of heat scorching the cool, detached dignified tones. "I made her strong!" 

"She didn't need to be strong!" Kara yells, surging up to her feet, her face inches away from Lillian. J'onn grabs her shoulder, restraining, but Kara presses forward. "She needed someone to love her! And you answered that with nothing but condescension and neglect! The only one in your family who made her feel loved was a psychopath who betrayed her!"

Lillian is struck silent, her eyes wide and her face strained as she stares at Kara. Kara meets the older woman's eyes, staring her down without the fear that a younger Lena must have shown Lillian all those years ago.

Kara wishes she could've been there to hold that young Lena in her arms, wishes she could've taken her away from the family that broke her.

"The Luthor name didn't deserve Lena. You never deserved her."

[thecrimsondandelion]

Idk what to do with these thoughts so putting them out there

Mechanic!Din, and Luke who, although is an absolute genius with cars/vehicles, on one occasion doesn’t have time to deal with an issue by himself

So he takes it to Din’s garage

But then he sees how handsome Din is and blue-screens

Din: So, what’s the problem?

Luke, gay-panicking: my car

Din: … uh huh. What’s wrong with it?

Luke: it’s broken :)

And Din assumes the pretty blond just has no idea about cars outside driving one (which he’s somewhat doubting even that, at that moment)

And Luke just keeps going back, with the smallest problems, even though he absolutely doesn’t need to. He pretends to know nothing about cars, and smiles and nods sweetly and listens carefully whenever Din explains something (even though he knows it already)

Leia and Han tease him mercilessly about it when they find out

[terukotime]

You say you don’t like the killer reveal, why? I actually think dev made some great choices and I’d love to talk to you about your perspective.

i don't want to get too deep into it because, like i mentioned in my previous post, i don't want my criticism to come off as negativity towards the series or discourage anyone involved in the production of the show because it's honestly not a huge deal. like, it in no way ruins the show or makes it less enjoyable for me. and i don't think the choice of who the culprit is is a bad one at all, i'm mostly unsatisfied with the way the chapter handles it.

[spoilers beneath the cut, obvi lol. and please remember this is just my opinion. me having and expressing my opinion is not hate towards the series. i'm nervous enough as it is posting just this and not a bigger essay on all my thoughts because i really don't want to have this be misconstrued, nor do i want any criticism i have to give, regardless of how innocent and respectful my intentions, to make drdtdev or anyone who works on the series feel bad.]

i think Ace being the killer DOES make sense. i have no qualms with him being the blackened, in theory. do i think he could've made for a great survivor, or have really interesting growth throughout the coming chapters? yeah! i would have loved for Ace to be kept around for much longer. but him being the killer this chapter isn’t inherently bad. it's now clear that there's a specific direction Ace's character was meant to go in this story and i think that's fine.

my problem is with what *didn't* happen with Ace's character up to this point.

the chapter hasn't concluded yet so there's still a chance for my thoughts to change, though i don't think it'll make much of a difference. but i'm still waiting to see if it can stick the landing. and even if it doesn't, that's okay. i've already accepted it, i'm just still disappointed by it all the same.

Ace, honestly, hasn't played much of an active role in the story. he's been a source of conflict and comedic relief, and that's okay, not every character has to be as important as Xander or David...but he hasn't really gotten to *do* anything. this series is very character-driven, and thus is very focused on the relationships between other characters. Ace has only had one notable relationship (outside of his feud with Nico, but i'm not really including that as a "relationship" for obvious reasons), and that was with Levi. and that didn't even stay positive for very long. and we also know now that Levi didn't even care about him to begin with because he doesn't care about people in general.

not only did Ace never really get to establish any other relationships, no one ever LIKED him. of course a good portion of the fandom likes him, but in the actual story, no one cares about him. no one will miss him. his death is honestly kind of meaningless character-wise. does it serve as a lesson to some of the other characters? sure. but he's going to be dying here with no one ever liking or caring about him.

Min's story wasn't just a cautionary tale. people did like her, people did care about her. she was friends with a lot of characters, she got to have an impact in the daily lives of others. we got to know her better, the things she liked, her deeper thoughts and opinions on things. she got to do stuff, and we got to learn about her. her death meant more to the characters beyond just being the first culprit. she died as a person, not just as a character.

most of the stuff we know about Ace is surface level or things confirmed in Q&As. he doesn't get to contribute much aside from the aforementioned conflict/comedic relief. i understand where the show is going with that idea, and why him not being liked by anyone is a specific part of what led him to murder, but that's not really what irks me. it's that Ace never got to really be a *person.* he's essentially a plot device, serving the greater "good person" theme going on this chapter, and filling in the smaller roles in the story when needed, like an antagonist in a scene or delivering a gag. yes, his admittance to killing Arei and eventual post-trial trauma dump will give him a bit more humanity and character...but that's not really enough.

we only get to see Ace how the other members of the cast see Ace: his loud, combative, aggressive side. the side that makes people think he's nothing more than an angry meathead who can't do anything right. we never got to see much of his other sides, of a much more somber, melancholic Ace. receiving even a hint of the Ace we see in his confession of guilt beforehand would have given him the depth we needed before this point.

to explain what i mean: imagine how unsatisfying it would have been if we never got to actually see Arei's breakdown in the playground. if Teruko had left before it happened, and we only get to learn what happened from a flashback from David's perspective. we already feel the weight and tragedy of Arei's death when her body is discovered because we knew beforehand why she behaved the way she did, how she never even liked being the way she is, and wishing she could be a good person like Eden. if we didn't get to see that happen beforehand, Arei's death would feel very flat and detached. her character growth would've happened entirely retroactively.

that's how i feel with Ace. it's not like he didn’t get enough spotlight this chapter, he certainly did. but every scene he was in really didn't really add anything new to him. the only thing that "progressed" with him was his hatred and paranoia. we just see him descend with no uplifting moments, no emotional hook to make us feel anything for him. the closest we get is the scene where he's arguing with Nico and Veronika at lunch, ranting about how poorly everyone thinks of him and that they all assume that he's for some reason happy to be the way he is. but it's really the barest of scrapes towards the deeper layers of his character.

a big problem is that there were a lot of chances for his character to actively be *explored*, but instead, the narrative perspective of him stays completely stagnant. the time we get with him this chapter doesn't give him any greater focus. and sure, you could say that that might be a big giveaway to him being the culprit, but i think if the time between character spotlight is distributed evenly, that would be easily circumvented. there was a lot more time that could've been spent building Ace's character beyond his animosity and self-loathing tendencies. we could have had someone actually attempting to bond with him, even if it doesn't turn out well. even if all the characters distrust each other to varying degrees, there's still a lot of characters that like each other or have unique bonds with each other that make them stand out and feel worth remembering, because those bonds contribute something to their characters. but with Ace? he truly gets the short end of the stick, because this isn't just the characters neglecting him, it's the story itself. if Ace got to have a moment like Arei, maybe someone to confide in, even if he wasn't really friends with them or liked them at all, him being vulnerable just once and having a moment with someone else would have rooted him in more as a person who fell victim to what the killing game wanted from him and not just a fictional character fulfilling the purpose required of them in the story.

honestly, it's a bit of a slap in the face, the way the show goes about it. because in hindsight, Ace's whole character is *meant* to be wasted potential. after all, his related phrase on Mai's bio page is "a girl who had a bright future".

he was set up to have the potential to change, the potential to add more to the story, the potential to show us more than what we were given. and i think the show kind of knows that and specifically perpetuates that. the scene where Teruko tells Levi to give up on trying to apologize to Ace almost reads as the show itself telling you to give up on Ace. that, why should we care about him? he's not going to amount to what we want from him. there's no use in investing our feelings in him.

whether or not any of that actually was intentionally doesn't matter, unfortunately, because rewatching so many scenes having this new context really makes it all seem like Despair Time doesn't want you to care about Ace. that Ace is meant to be a waste, that that's the core of his character. him being the epitome of wasted potential could have been great, actually, if they chose to use even a slight bit of that potential to build him up more before his inevitable demise. instead we watch him eat shit throughout the entire show thus far only for him to get royally fucked at the very end in the worst way possible. Ace's theme of wasted potential is only wasted potential because nothing is ever done with him. not actively, anyways. whatever his post-trial confessional is like won't really give us what we needed from the start. Ace didn't just deserve better in his life. he deserves better as a fictional character. he deserved to be a person and not *just* a character. he deserved to have deeper, emotional character moments outside of the trial, long before his murder confession and rapidly approaching demise. he deserved to be 3-dimensional.

again, this is all just my personal opinion, and there's still a chance the show can stick the landing and make Ace as the culprit feel a lot more natural and deserved. i'm not really confident in that happening, but drdt is full of surprises as well as a lot of great writing. that being said, even though i believe they kinda fumbled the bag with Ace here, i don't hate this turn of events. although he's a big favorite of mine, i still wanted Eden to be innocent over him, because she's also a great character and her killing Arei would not only be pretty huge character assassination, but would also make Arei's death meaningless. and i also think there were other characters who could have been better candidates as the chapter 2 killer (not just Hu, i think Levi, Arturo, and maybe even J also could've made for compelling culprits with the right reasons).

i'm content with this. i'm heartbroken he's going so early and i wish the execution of his guilt had been a lot better, but overall it's not terrible. he just deserved so much more in many different ways.

[badyan]

Thought onslaught

"I just!…don’t know…"

"Why are you even questioning this?" his voice was cold and unaffected, but you know he doesn’t mean to be so harsh with you. It’s just his usual state. You still feel like you’re interrupting him though…

"It is your birthday. You humans love your celebrations…sometimes even too much," he adds in a lower tone, scrolling for something in his holopad. "So why should no one care this time?"

You go quiet. The thought about you being the most annoying mopping goof floods your mind again. Second day straight. You know too well he has no intention to sound so cold. But two days with these anxious thoughts boiling up within your head…You don’t even have any strength left to pour him your whole heart out. Especially when he’s like this, all in accordance with his role. Right…You should not try to get in touch with him when he’s working. It’s not about personal, you’ve discussed it already — it’s just like his mind switches into the commander mode. And you’ve lost him till the dead of the night.

"Should’ve known better…" you think to yourself, standing up and leaving him alone. Maybe you’re just too tired. Exhausted, actually. Sleep would be great — especially the part when you can have your mind turned off.

You fall flat, huge pillow embracing your face, soft cool darkness soothing your heated watery eyes. You need to take a time-out of this endless thought onslaught. And you can. But right before your mind completely blurs to sleep, you hear him calling you from the other room.

"Where are you?"

"I’ll nap…a bit…" you only mumble in the dark, voice so small in this yearning silence. You know he heard you. You simply try to brush off new wave of trembling overthoughts and force your mind blank, letting the slumber consume you. You don’t want to mull it all over anymore.

The last thing that came to your mind was Ram as you hear some distant clicking of his vents opening in a sigh. Maybe it would have been much easier if you were an omnic like him, able to switch your dumb fucking anxious head off…That would be awesome, even for a bit…

You dissolve into the sweet oblivion of your dreams, now blank, peaceful. Perfect void for your disheartened heart to hide…

…that was until you got scared awake by the sudden noise of fire alarm. Annoying loud beeping was coming from the kitchen, where you immedeately rushed, almost falling because your socks slipped on the smooth floor tiles. You even felt your spine crack from how awkwardly you moved, catching your balance back — but the sight in front of you was worthy of that.

You arrived at the same moment his hand teared the fire alarm detector off the ceiling, crushing it to crunch straight away just to shut the damn thing. He moves frantically, aggressively even, as if this poor alarm could pose a danger to him and all his beloved ones.

Ramattra stands beside the stove awkwardly, oddly slouching and staring at you back silently. The whole scene was so chaotic and so sudden that it makes you both just freeze on the spot, taking a second to comprehend the what-tha-fuck moment. You blink sleepily, taking in the way he stands strangely in the middle of house equipment’s murder scene. He was never jealous of other machines that surround you daily…

Although his pose deceives him badly. Yes, of course it’s usual for him to lower his head like this indoors since he is too large for your cute little kitchen ( or better say, your cute litte kitchen is too small for his full-height posture ) — but right now you sense something off in the way he clumsily stand there, gripping the edge of the countertop, watching you intently with a hint of…guilt?

A deer in the headlights, a little boy who goofed around too much and is now trying to escape getting grounded, quickly eliminating all the evidence of his goofball deeds — that’s what you see in the kitchen instead of your lovely ravager boy. This confounded pose and the way he don’t know where to look to escape your shoked gaze, letting the awfully long foolish pause give him away even more…it’s so obvious that he’s hiding something from you, it makes him sick with embarrassment.

And the more he tries to cover it up, the more it makes your lips curl into a silly smirk. You already know what’s going on — but the view…is charming.

"What?…" was all you can mutter carefully, tone already mischievous.

"Nothing." even his own vocaliser deceives him, pure confusion is evident in his tone. He can only thank the Iris that his faceplate can’t blush, otherwise he would be all red at the moment.

"Why?" your cheeks start to hurt from how big of a smile you have as you point at the poor fire alarm debris in his fist.

"It…it could have waked you up. It did." he objects, though knowing that his arguments sound lame.

"It was doing its job!" you chuckle "It’s the least it could do since big boy commander can’t deal with some mundane human cooking…" you taunt and he lowers his head in shame. He had no time to get rid of the smell of burned food before you rushed over…

You can’t resist this adorable goof. Giggling heartedly, you gesture him to move out of the way. He hesitated for a moment, before he slowly steps to the side, letting you to the stove. There it is — a whole pan of veggies and burned down tomato sause, seasoned with your favourite herbs. All burned, too. You hear his back vents clicking open as he watches you examining the remains of what meant to be your own specialty pasta…

But oh, how his circuitry melts when he’s met with your smile, pure joy shining in your sleepy eyes despite the meal being totally ruined. He freezes, afraid to scare off the moment, finding himself forgetting how to pronounce words. Instead he just stares at you, hoping you’ll read straight from his eyes all the things his soul speaks but his vocaliser can’t yet. At the back of his mind, he sometimes wishes he could have the same deep, gorgeous eyes, just like you, as a human, have…Eyes that can talk louder than any voice or gesture or body language could muster. That would be wonderful, just a bit of this charm any human was born with…

"You sweetheart…" you murmur, gently leaning on him, hugging, snuggling, feeling how his hands wrap around your whole body in his big bear’s embrace, incredibly soft and careful for a creature of steel…your head cradled against his chest and he is nuzzling your hair from up above, planting a silent omnicode kiss.

"You remembered my pasta…"

"Of course I have…I wanted to make you your favourite"

"You remembered my comfort food recipe…to make it for me…"

"… and I burnt the whole meal."

"You! remembered!! and wanted to make!!! for me!!!! and almost cooked!!!!!" you laugh and it fills him with the warmth he has never known.

Perhaps, this is what home feels like…

"So…you’re not mad? Even though I totally screwed it up?"

"Not at all, hun. But I would if we won’t cook it together now." your mischievous smirk is making him thank the Iris again for not being able to blush.

He is enamoured.

~~~~~~~

@statuetochka, @t3chborb silly Rama food is ready!!! fluff flavoured, because my birthday is coming next wednesday, anxiety is getting me and Rama is my babe therapy

[heroictoonz]

I’m not the biggest Wu enjoyer ever in fact most the time in private friend servers and dms with close pals I joke about hating him and wanting him out the show I’ll admit to that. But like. I do think about the moments that probably were but never shown. I honestly think about Wu a lot

I think about Wu alone in the monastery with Cole, the first Ninja he recruited. A young man who was still grieving his mother even after all this time and in his own way, maybe unknowingly, grieving his father as well. I think about Wu possibly finding Cole constantly training in the main area at all hours of the day and night just to keep his hands busy. Wu sitting with him and maybe even being nervous to say anything to him. His last pupil he drove away. What if he did the same to this one? His last pupil was like a son to him and he screwed it all up and has to live with that on his hands and yet, here he is, trying it all over again, praying to the ghost of his father and anything in the heavens that will listen that he doesn’t make the same mistakes again. Maybe he sits quietly with Cole, not stopping him but letting him silently know that he isn’t alone no matter how long the monastery halls seem to feel. Bringing Cole water or a snack even when they both should be asleep. Finally, at one point, having the courage to tell him that he should sleep more. That if he wanted to talk, about anything at all, that Wu would be an ear to listen. I wonder if Cole would talk to Wu about any of it. Maybe not about it all. But maybe bits and pieces of his frustration and anguish that was clearly haunting him in those early days. I think that Wu’s words might even be enough to calm some of that in him. Maybe not all of it, and maybe Cole still pushes himself to keep away feelings and thoughts he can’t handle, but he sleeps more. He rests more. He takes breaks with Wu and has tea with him.

I think about Jay joining and being probably really skeptical about the whole thing. Probably distant with Cole cause he doesn’t know this guy. I think about Wu bringing in this second pupil, knowing by now that he was building a team that he would have to train not just in the ways of spinjitsu and their elements but also train them to be one with each other in battle. An anxious Wu trying desperately to get the two to talk and just hang out if even just for a meal or two. Wu bringing them together and having them build not just their strength and skills but their trust in each other too. Wu probably asks Jay about his parents. Seeing how Morro and Cole’s family backgrounds were he probably feared a trend settling in. Maybe Wu is plesently surprised when Jay tells him about his loving, though kinda embarrassing and smothering, parents. His parents who, even after moving out, he still writes to and stays in contact with as much as possible cause he doesn’t want them to worry. Maybe Wu smiles when Jay tells him that he’ll probably meet them someday.

I think it was very soon after that Wu found Zane. I think about Wu asking the people of that village about the strange boy who wondered their town alone, memoryless. With nothing to him but a name and a kind heart. Wu finding him and giving him a funny surprise in that lake. Pulling Zane out and offering him and permanent home. Maybe even catches the words in his throat as he feels the similarities between Zane and Morro. Strange orphaned children with nothing but their names and the clothes on their backs. Promising them a forever home. He hopped this one he could keep that promise. He’d do anything to keep that promise. Wu bringing Zane to the others, a little worried at first knowing that Zane was already very different from most people. Cole and Jay, where getting along better now, were still full of bite and fight. If he weren’t careful he would be putting this poor boy into the lions den. It goes better than he expects. Zane fits in easily with the other two. Wu is almost surprised by it, but thankful nonetheless. But this is where his real challenges begin. Training the three together, coaxing them to be more than just teammates. Knowing that it wouldn’t be enough. That they needed to trust each other implicitly. Maybe he was thinking about the tornado of creation, knowing that unless these three (and the fourth that he was still searching for) would need to be in near perfect harmony to pull off such a feat. But that they would need it in their coming battles.

I think about Wu holding back tears when he walks in to see the three goofing off. Yes they were meant to be working (maybe chores or training) but they were goofing off. They were getting along. Acting as friends and companions. And both Cole and Jay continued to argue but it was less like strangers and more like family. (They occasionally would remind Wu of him and his own brother from a long, long time ago.) I wonder how much pride Wu felt when he noticed that Cole and Jay were attempting to help Zane when he didn’t seem to catch up or understand something in a social or emotional situation. Even if they did throw in a few friendly insults at the poor boy here and there. Wu probably got a good laugh of the three pulling pranks on each other. Cole and Jay coming up with some to try and ease Zane into the concepts of practical jokes and being rightfully surprised when the future ice ninja got them back just as good.

I especially think about Wu when he meets Kai. Young and angry and a spark just waiting to ignite and explode. Violent and uncontrollable. And a spitting image of Ray. I wonder if Wu thought of his old friend when he saw Kai. The soft way he mentions the man in their conversation about the golden weapons. I wonder how much Wu misses his old friends and if he mourned them at the same time Kai and Nya did seemingly worlds apart and still shedding twin tears under one moon. I think about Wu feeling a frustration with Kai he’d probably never felt before. He sighs when he’s alone in his room. His head is his hands. “Father, how would you teach someone who seems so unreachable?” He would ask to no one. He would run his hands over his face and try to remember if Morro was this stubborn. But Morro had only become stubborn later in his trainings when his arrogance and drive for power blinded him. Kai was born stubborn and arrogant it seemed. Wu might even smile with exasperation and wonder to himself ‘how did Ray and Maya raise such a child?’

I think about Kai distancing himself from the rest like how Jay once did. Throwing himself into his training like how Cole once did. A young man alone and lost in the world as how Zane once was. Seeing so clearly how he clung to his sister and had a drive like no other to get her back. Maybe Wu even worried that after they rescued Nya that Kai would leave. That he would see no use in sticking around. Wu doubted that this soon encounter with his brother would be the last. Maybe Wu saw much of Morro in Kai and felt something almost like fear. Fear of losing Kai to a similar fate? Fear of Kai being pushed away when all Wu wanted to do was bring him close to the rest of them? Maybe even a fear that the shadows of his past would keep him from meaningfully connecting with Kai like he tried to do with the other three.

I think abut Wu bringing Kai tea. Wu pulling Kai in to eat and train with the other three. Wu trying to take the lessons he had learned from all this time and help Kai transition into the team. And similarly, help the rest of the team transition into including Kai. Kai was full of just as much bite and fight as Cole and Jay when they first met, maybe more. Definitely more. But Wu wasn’t going to give up on him. I think about Wu catching quiet moments of Kai’s sorrow. What he normally covered up in anger but sometimes was too weak to do so. Wu sitting next to him and telling him stories about when he and his brother were growing up. About how the loss of their father affected them. About how the loss of his brother affected him. Maybe Kai would snap at him. Telling him that they were nothing alike. That Wu couldn’t understand. Maybe Kai says something harsher. Says that at least Nya wasn’t trying to destroy the world. That he would get Nya back. That Nya wasn’t some evil freak. And Wu would let every word slide off him like water. Because he knew Kai was just angry. He knew Kai would be angry for a while.

I think about when they get Nya back. When Wu officially introduces himself to her. I wonder if he knew she was the water element right then and there. Did he know that she would one day show signs. I wonder if he has his suspicions but decided to wait and see. The elements are tricky things. They do not always do as expected. I think about Wu noticing just how equally as stubborn Nya is as Kai but how much better she tried to mask it.

I wonder if Kai ever apologized to Wu for how he acted. I think about Wu stopping him and reassuring him that it was nothing to worry about. Wu knew he was just upset for the fate of his sister. Wu was just thankful all turned out well in the end.

I think abut Kai and Cole both seeing a father figure in Wu that the other two probably don’t connect with as much. Maybe Cole is a bit more open about it than Kai. I wonder if, when Wu realizes this, if it worries him. Morro haunts him like a ghost. His greatest regret. In a life of mistakes the one he mourns the most. I’ll always wonder how much Morro’s impact on Wu’s life haunts his days with his new students. Maybe the ninja see Wu have his own silent moments. Days he can’t hide his own sadness. Whether for Morro or his brother. Maybe even both. Maybe even days when he remembers Aspheera or the other elemental masters. So many friends that he lost along the way.

Maybe the ninja try to cheer him up and be with him the same way Wu would for them. They bring him tea, offer to take him with them out to the city for their weekly run, ask him to tell them stories about the first spinjitsu master or about Wu’s old travels and adventures. Wu knows what they’re doing, but he lets them do it all the same.

I think about how Wu was probably constantly worried about Lloyd’s safety and health. He knew his mother had left him at that school. I wonder if Wu was against it or not. I wonder how often Wu would think about Lloyd, alone, festering in what would only become feelings of abandonment. Would Wu realize that? Or would he be just as blind to it as Lloyd’s well meaning (yet still wrong) parents? I think about Wu grabbing his dear nephew into a hug when they first reunited. Tucking him in and reading him that story. I think about Wu maybe even sitting Lloyd down and trying to talk to him about his parents. Especially his father. I don’t think it’d go over that well but I think he might try.

I think about Wu maybe feeling nostalgic when Garmadon was with them to rescue Lloyd. It must have been so, so long since the two were on a quest or adventure of some kind. Maybe he regrets the joy he feels or even hardly has the time to feel it knowing that Lloyd is in so much danger.

I wonder how much guilt Wu holds. I think about him regretting so much before the ninja and then even more so regretting being so closed off about it all and not saying anything before it’s all too late. “There was something I never told you.” “I should have told you all this long ago.” Keeping his past a secret probably out of shame or a fear of history repeating itself, only for it to cause his new family such distress and trouble. Learning the hard way that his past would always come back for him. From Morro to the Hands of Time all the way to Aspheera. I wonder if Wu regrets not being the one to tell Lloyd the truth about his heritage. Maybe he assumed Garmadon would have. Maybe he thought it was best for the young leader to not have to worry abut such things until once again it was far too late.

I think about Wu mourning his bother over and over and over again. Sometimes with Lloyd, sometime with Misako, but many, many, many times completely alone. In the silence of his own grief and regrets. I wonder if he ever sees himself and Garmadon in Nya and Kai. Or even just in the ninja as a whole. Not an exact one to one but seeing them be a family, watching them go on quests together, I wonder how often he thinks of his brother in those moments.

I think about Wu rebuilding a family and maybe not even immediately recognizing he did just that.

[c-is-for-circinate]

look the stupid terrible thing about the perpetual just-angsty-enough anime boy deuteragonist rivals is that they are so often written to be (writeable to be) so painfully aware of their own sharp edges and sins. the ways they've weaponized themselves, be it razor tongue or bloody sword. the ways the world weaponized them first. the pride they can't quite escape, about the skill it's won them. the price it's cost them to become, this hard-shelled sharp-edged thing that they are.

and some of them get sad self-involved redemption arcs but the very best of them just never actually get to stop being that sharp-edged thing, and never get to stop knowing it. they find a few soft places to show their soft protagonists, maybe, but mostly they just have to be a knife and also save the world or win the sport anyway. (or both. sometimes it's both.)

AND LIKE. I passed Hot Topic age almost twenty years ago. just, maybe there's something. y'know. compelling. about the way they keep being the knife.

[mamawasatesttube]

ONE MORE SNIPPET of ch3 to motivate myself to keep going... unedited and subject to change still but. wahoo!

“Rrrrr…”

Thunder rumbles in the distance as Kon opens his eyes. “Krypto? Whassamatter…?”

Krypto hasn’t gotten out of bed, but his head is up, his ears pricked forward towards the front of the house. He lets out another low, warning growl deep in his chest. “Mmrrrrrrmm…”

Blearily, Kon claws his way out of sleep a little more. It’s pitch-black in his room, the stars all blotted out by the thunderstorm, but the sheet lightning flashing across the sky lights up his room bright as day, even through the curtains. He listens, trying to figure out what’s got Krypto on guard, but not bothered enough to get up. For a moment, all he can hear is the pounding rain and the howling wind, but then…

Kon freezes.

There’s an extra heartbeat. Someone other than him, Krypto, and Ma is here. And—

Scritch-scritch. Thump, thump, scritch.

—And they’re climbing on the roof. Coming closer, by the sound of it.

“Rrrrrmmbfff.” Krypto does a tiny warning woof, not quite a bark. He’s still lying down, though, clearly not worried that the person outside is a threat. Come to think of it, that heartbeat is familiar, although admittedly Kon still struggles to keep different people’s heartbeats straight. They’re all really similar. He’s not quite sure how Kal does it.

Tap-tap-tap, at the window.

Krypto tilts his head. His tail thumps against the blankets once. Kon groans. Guess he’s getting out of bed for this.

He reluctantly peels the covers aside and floats out of his wonderful, cozy bed, clicks on his desk lamp with a touch of TTK, and plods across the floor. Tap-tap-tap-tap sounds at the window again, like an impatient bird.

“I’m coming, jeez,” Kon mutters. Krypto’s lazy ass still hasn’t gotten up. He wishes that were him. He reaches up, shoves the curtains aside, and—

Barely illuminated by the lamplight and the lightning outside, wearing a hoodie that’s soaked completely through, his hair plastered to his forehead, Tim perches on the edge of Kon’s windowsill and waves.

“Hi,” he calls through the glass. “Can I come in?”

What the shit?

Kon TTKs the window open with a rush of cold wind and rain. Even half-asleep, it’s just a matter of a thought to keep any water from hitting the floor as he grabs Tim by the shoulders and hauls him inside, then slams the window shut again. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Hi,” Tim says again, breathless. He looks like he could be in the next Ring movie, his hair plastered to his face and water streaming down his cheeks. “You haven’t been answering my texts.” He shivers, but squares his shoulders resolutely. “So I thought—well—I’m here to apologize. And if you’re still mad and you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s—that’s totally okay, and I’ll just get back in the car and drive back to Gotham, but I wrote out a proper apology and—”

“Okay, okay, okay, stop!” Kon shakes him a little, incredulous. “You’re dripping all over my floor, and it’s—it’s, what, one in the morning?”

“Two-fifteen-ish,” Tim corrects.

“Right. Two-fifteen-ish in the morning, you’re dripping all over my floor, and it’s freezing out and you’re gonna catch a head cold, I swear to god—”

Kon lets go of him with one hand to wheel around, squint at his dresser, and TTK a drawer open. Tim isn’t actually dripping all over the floor, because Kon’s got him wrapped in a layer of TTK, but there is a puddle slowly gathering around his feet.

“Come on, dumbass, you need a hot shower before you even think of reading off whatever script you prepared for yourself.” A couple of folded clothes roll out of the dresser drawer and scoot down the side of the legs, then toss themselves over into Kon’s free hand. “Here. You can borrow these.”

[rinbylin]

re: jianghu as a queer space in mlc

here to answer @redemption-revenge !! in reply to this post

(also tagging @markiafc @ananeiah <3)

there are many definitions of jianghu, but this is specifically based on the framing of jianghu as the space people retreat to, away from the mainstream sphere governed by the imperial court. in that is a sense of rejection and defiance against the patriarchal, heteronormative values and norms, which had been enforced through a fixation on upkeeping order in the society. as such i guess it's not too much of a stretch to interpret jianghu as a queer space in a way that's characterised by a spirit of nonconformity to the norms. consequently, it makes sense for stories set in jianghu be used to illustrate and navigate queer identities/experiences/feelings - which I came to believe mlc had made really good use of.

there's always kind of a dichotomy between 江湖 jianghu and 庙堂 miaotang (ie. imperial court). like in mlc, there are two separate, distinct law enforcement bodies from the respective spheres - and jianghu strives to keep imperial court from interfering in their affairs. like how li xiangyi firmly stands against getting imperial court involved in jianghu matters. like how fang duobing is actively running away from the grip of the royal court on his life choices. the rejection of the mainstream (very conveniently and broadly put, confucian) norms in mlc also manifests in many of its key relationships being non-familial (in the sense of blood/marriage-based kinship) and there being little emphasis on the main characters' biological familial ties. (anyway this is for a whole different meta on its own... edit: it's here)

it's then actually a sort of irony that the imperial court's institution of law and order is what sigu sect/baichuan court had been formed to be a de facto counterpart to. so when li xiangyi becomes li lianhua, it triggered the process of deconstructing the meaning of installing such an institution and the need to maintain order to a fundamentally nonconforming space such as jianghu. mama fang's seemingly throwaway line of criticising li xiangyi and his mission is in fact the thesis statement in this particular reading of mlc's story: jianghu makes its own rules. nobody should dare to do it in its place.

now deprived of all means to fight like he used to, li xiangyi's new life as li lianhua is essentially a refresh of how he views jianghu. the death of li xiangyi the leader of sigu sect and top of wulin, meant taking apart the idea that jianghu is a lawless arena where the fittest fight to the top for power and control over wulin. and li lianhua then putting together lotus tower, living a life focusing on a domestic lifestyle this time for real far from the reach of the governance both from the imperial court and sigu sect/baichuan court, is him living the jianghu that's defined as a space away from any form of conformity.

with that, there's also a sense of queerness to this particular way of living as li lianhua, if you consider the chinese conceptualisation of gender being more social than biological. if femininity and masculinity were respectively characterised by inner/domestic sphere and external/any space outside of that, dare I say...it actually makes li lianhua's moving house mindblowingly smart as a metaphor for gender fluidity. lonely wanderers are common in wuxia but housed lonely wanderers? he carved for himself a domestic (ie. feminine) space in the wilderness - among a jianghu space that's still dominated by masculine values of aggression and competition. and being freely mobile makes this feminine space more fluid and less tied down than the more rigid, inert domestic, feminine spaces in traditional mainstream society. when you combine it with how his character has been fem-coded - even as li xiangyi (eg. yin-coded powers/energy) (also a whole other meta on its own... edit: it's here now), it speaks to a part of him that has always found appeal in qualities conventionally associated with femininity of stability, gentleness and non-aggression. and a rejection of expectations to fight and destroy. he is defining who he is in his own terms, in the true spirit of jianghu.