#and like…..making them is so much easier than keeping them

[caitlinsnicket]

viktor relationship headcanons

warnings: if you squint, you might see something a little intimate, but other than suggestions, there's nothing.

a/n: surprised myself by not only writing this so quickly but also by not including any filth. wow.

masterlist | 🍉 | ko-fi

He lives for shoulder kisses, treating them as a sort of stress reliever.

You visit his lab, bringing him a cup of tea (to make him sleepier and get him to bed quicker), and as you pass by, you lean down to kiss his shoulder.

Even through his shirt, he can feel your warmth, and as you leave, he manages to relax a little more.

Sometimes, before you go, he'll hold your hand and kiss your knuckles, his lips wandering down your wrist and arm until you start pulling him away from the workbench.

On good days—the days when he doesn’t feel as much pain or discomfort just from breathing—he asks for your help removing the harness he wears around his middle section.

He doesn’t actually need the help, but he loves the way your skin feels against his, especially during such an intimate moment, and he savors every second with you.

Putting the harness back on is a hassle, but it’s easier now because you understand.

It’s one thing to force your help on him, and another to ask if he needs it. He appreciates that you ask—and that you back off when he tells you to.

Another bittersweet aspect of your relationship is that he’s always cold. While it’s uncomfortable for him when he’s alone, it’s the best thing in the world when you’re around.

He’ll shiver slightly, and you’ll appear out of nowhere, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and pulling him close, tucking his hands under your thighs and kissing his nose until he’s boiling hot.

You also insist that he drink more warm beverages (except coffee—you banned that from your apartment ages ago), wear thicker clothes, and even use masks in the lab because his colds are always worse than expected.

Viktor insists he’s a grown man perfectly capable of taking care of himself, but when you hold his hands in yours and blow on them, he swallows his pride and lets you. Your love comes in waves like these, and he’s learned to catch as much of it as he can.

He doesn’t pay much attention to his appearance. While that unintentionally makes him a hundred times more attractive, it becomes a problem as he grows more important. It’s hard to explain that he can’t show up to an important meeting looking disheveled and that he needs to fix his hair before leaving the house.

So, you sit him down on the little bench you use to get ready yourself, using some of your products to tame his hair, smoothing down stray locks and ensuring he looks polished. The entire time, he fights to stay awake because of your gentle touch, eventually resting his face against your belly and breathing you in.

When you’re done, it’s a bit hard to get him up and out the door, but you manage by peppering kisses on his cheeks and nose. His heart races at your affection, and he promises to return as soon as possible so the two of you can be together again.

At some point, while redecorating the apartment for the millionth time, a picture falls out of one of his books: it’s him as a child, holding up a toy boat with a huge smile on his face. The sight makes you momentarily consider starting a family right then and there, so you call him over to show him.

He stutters, trying to snatch the photo from your hands, but you stop him, giggling at his embarrassed expression.

"You were so cute as a kid! I mean, you still are, but you looked so small! Baby Vik!" you tease, and he buries his face in his hands.

You end up framing the photo and hanging it on the living room wall, right beside one of your own.

But his absolute favorite thing the two of you do together is bathing. He never saw the point of it before—showering was easier and more practical—but now, he needs at least one bath a week just to keep going.

You fill the bathroom with bubbles, scents, and soaps, and he gets to sit back and relax with you in the warm water (which soothes his pain) in a dimly lit room. He loves it: your hands gently touching him, the care you take to ensure he’s comfortable and content in the tub, and even washing his hair for him.

He finds it almost pathetic how completely in love he is with you.

[starless-nightz]

The look of love

note -> I am NOT ready for act 3, I don't want Arcane to end :[[[

pairing -> Jinx X fem! reader, platonic! Isha X fem! reader

summary -> Jinx always believed that she would end up alone, she always did. That was until you and Isha came into her life and now she finally has something—someone—worth living for.

warnings -> none.

content includes -> just fluff.

Jinx didn't believe in happy endings. Not for her, not for anyone. Sure, people in Piltover might have them—their shining golden mansions and glittering dresses made them seem like they walked out of fairy tales. But here in Zaun? Happy endings were as real as unicorns, and Jinx would sooner blow herself up than believe in that kind of nonsense.

She had convinced herself she didn't care.

That was until you came along. And then later, Isha.

————

The first time she met you Jinx didn't think much about you. You were just another face in the crowd of Zaun, another person struggling to make it through the grime and smog. She’d been trailing through the streets, looking for some scrap or bauble to turn into her next explosive creation.

And there you were, crouched in some abandond alley with your hands tangled in wires, fiddling with some broken-down device. You didn't even look up when she stopped next to you, a hand resting on her hip as she watched you.

"Hey, you planning on blowing that thing up, or is it just me?

You jumped, your head smacking against the device. Groaning, you rubbed at your scalp and turned to glare at her. "What do you want?"

Jinx tilted her head. "Ooh, feisty. I like that." She crouched next to you, her eyes darting over your work. "What's this supposed to be?"

"Nothing you'd care about."

"Try me."

You let out a sigh, but humored her. "It's a transmitter. Or it's supposed to be. Trying to fix it so I can get in touch with someone topside. Supplies down here are running thin."

She knew should've walked away. Jinx never got involved with other people's problems. It was easier this way: to keep to herself and keep the world at arm's length, to keep her heart safe, she couldn't handle loosing anyone else.

But something about you made her want to stay, something about you made her want to get to know you better, to open up her heart to you.

"Supplies, huh? Tell you what," she said, standing and shouldering her gun. "You make that thing work, and I'll make sure nobody messes with you until then."

You blinked at her warily but curiously. "Why?"

Jinx shrugged, a lopsided grin spreading across her face. "Call it a hunch. You seem… fun."

————

That was the start. You didn't trust her that much at first—who would? Jinx was chaos in human form, a whirling dervish of energy and bad decisions that sane people crossed the street to avoid, not to mention a wanted crimial. But she kept her word. For weeks, she stuck around your jury-rigged workshop, chasing off the more common sorts of Zaunite pests.

And against your better judgment, you began to grow accustomed—and even attached—to her.

Jinx was actually good company when she wasn't blowing things up. She had a way of making you laugh, even when the transmitter refused to cooperate. Her stories—wild and half-believed—painted in the picture of a girl who hurt more often than she let on.

One night, with the both of you sitting on the rooftop of a crumbling building, she turned to you, her usual manic grin replaced by something softer.

"Why're you still here, anyway?" she asked. "Zaun's a dump. You could've gone topside ages ago."

You fumbled for words, gazing fixedly out across the glowing neon lights of the skyline. "Zaun's home," you said finally. "It's messy, yeah, but… it's mine. People up there wouldn't understand."

For once, Jinx didn't have a snappy comeback. She just nodded, the understanding in her eyes making your chest tighten.

————

Then came Isha.

Jinx had always been good at finding trouble, and it just so happens that a little girl fell on top of her while running away from bad men.

Jinx protected her, of course, the guys weren't even a match to her so it was incredibly easy. By the time the dust settled, the little girl was staring at her, wide-eyed and breathless.

"Yep, that's me." Jinx said as the two looked at the wanted posters of her, "You ever need to curse a sibling or a family or a society... my card." she said as she started walking away.

The little girl immediately followed her, trying her best to catch uo with her, her little eyes filled with amazement.

Soon Jinx was at your workshop with the little girl trailing behind her. You immediately noticed the two, raising your eyebrow as you glance between Jinx and the girl.

"She yours?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Jinx shrugged. "I dunno. She just kinda started following meu."

You sigh, looking at the little girl then at Jinx. "Well, she's staying. She'll be safer with us."

Jinx didn't argue.

————

Months passed. The three of you became an odd little family, bound together by circumstance and something deeper that none of you could quite name.

You and Jinx spent your days scavenging and fixing whatever you could get your hands on, while Isha stood watch, her quiet presence a constant comfort, sometimes she would even help you two.

For the first time in a long while, Jinx felt something close to peace.

She would never admit to it, not even to herself, but she began to look forward to the moments when you'd smile at her, your laughter filling up the empty spaces in her mind. She loved the way Isha would hold onto her, a silent reminder that she wasn't alone anymore.

And then there was the way you looked at her.

Jinx had seen a lot of things in her life, but she'd never seen anyone look at her the way you did. Like she was more than just a ticking time bomb. Like she was worth something.

It scared her.

But it also made her want to be better. For you.

————

It was one of those nights when the city weighed heavier than usual. You were tinkering with a new device that aimed to channel Zaun's toxic air into something breathable. Jinx sat beside you, mimicking your actions but with one of her bombs instead as Isha layed her head in Jinxs lap sound asleep.

"Do you ever think about leaving?" You asked her, looking up to look at her.

Jinx froze, her fingers mid-twist. "What, like… Zaun?"

You nodded, not looking at her. "Yeah, starting over somewhere else. Somewhere quiet."

For a moment, she didn't know what to say. The idea of leaving Zaun had never crossed her mind. This place was her hell, but it was also her home.

But then she looked at you, at the way the dim light caught the curve of your face, and she wondered if maybe, just maybe, there could be something more.

"I dunno," she said finally, her voice quieter than usual. "Maybe."

You turned to her, your expression soft but searching. "If you ever wanted to… I'd go with you, Isha would too."

Jinx's heart stuttered in her chest. She looked away, trying to mask the way her cheeks flushed. She looked down at Ishas sleeping form, her hands playing with the young girls fluffy hair.

"Yeah, well," she muttered, "don't go making promises you can't keep, alright?"

But the way you smiled at her made her wonder if you meant it.

————

The world didn't change overnight. It never does. But for Jinx, it didn't need to.

She had you. She had Isha.

And for the first time in her life, she thought that might just be enough.

Because when she looked at you, she saw something she never thought she'd have.

Home.

And that was worth living for.

[dissapointu]

Headcanons: Arcane Characters with an Autistic S/O

Jinx

• Jinx loves how unique and vibrant your perspective on the world is. She’s endlessly curious about your special interests and will dive headfirst into learning everything she can about them.

• She doesn’t always pick up on your cues if you’re feeling overstimulated, but she’s quick to notice when you start withdrawing or avoiding eye contact. “Okay, okay, too much chaos—let’s go somewhere quieter.”

• If you’re nonverbal at times or need to communicate differently, Jinx finds it fascinating rather than frustrating. “Oh, a hand signal for that? Sweet! Now I know the secret code.”

• She’s surprisingly gentle when you’re feeling overwhelmed. Her usual high-energy demeanor softens, and she’ll sit quietly beside you, sometimes offering a comforting object or fidget toy she made for you.

• Jinx often invents quirky gadgets to make your life easier, like noise-canceling earmuffs or sensory-friendly lighting. “Tada! Jinxed it just for you.”

Vi

• Vi is fiercely protective of you, especially in situations where others might not understand your needs. “They don’t get it? Too bad for them. You don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

• She quickly picks up on what helps you feel safe and calm, whether it’s pressure hugs, your favorite textures, or a quiet space. She’s got you covered.

• If someone tries to judge or dismiss you for being different, Vi will immediately put them in their place. “They better watch their mouths. Nobody messes with my girl.”

• She loves listening to you talk about your passions. Even if she doesn’t understand everything, she’ll ask questions and try to keep up. “Wait, so this character can do what? That’s awesome!”

• Vi is great at helping you navigate tricky social situations. She’s your biggest cheerleader but also respects when you need time alone.

Sevika

• Sevika is surprisingly intuitive when it comes to your needs. She might not always say much, but she’ll notice when you’re struggling and adjust her behavior to make you more comfortable.

• If loud environments in the Last Drop overwhelm you, she’ll guide you somewhere quieter without a word, her hand firm but reassuring on your back.

• She has infinite patience for your routines or sensory needs, never making you feel weird or ashamed. “You need to do it that way? Fine. Whatever works for you.”

• Sevika’s lap becomes your safe space during overstimulating moments. She’ll let you curl up against her while she glares at anyone who dares interrupt your peace.

• While she’s not overly sentimental, Sevika has a subtle way of making you feel loved. She’ll gift you sensory-friendly items, like soft blankets or fidget tools, without making a big deal out of it.

Silco

• Silco is incredibly understanding of your differences. He values individuality, so your quirks are something he finds fascinating and endearing.

• He’s meticulous about creating a calm, structured environment for you. “Routine is key, my dear. It will help you thrive in a chaotic world.”

• If you struggle with eye contact, he never forces it, instead focusing on your words and tone to understand you. “Your thoughts are what matter, not where you look.”

• Silco has a way of quietly asserting your boundaries to others without making a scene, ensuring you feel respected and safe.

• He appreciates your honesty and straightforwardness. In a world full of manipulation, your sincerity is a breath of fresh air.

Vander

• Vander is incredibly warm and supportive. He loves listening to you talk about your passions and always encourages you to pursue them.

• He’s quick to notice when something is bothering you and will gently guide you to a quiet corner of the bar to decompress. “Take your time, love. No rush.”

• Vander is amazing at making accommodations for you without drawing attention to them. He’ll keep the bar’s noise levels manageable or arrange quiet mornings just for the two of you.

• He’s a natural at offering grounding touch, like a hand on your back or a bear hug, to help you feel safe and centered.

• If you’re ever overwhelmed by social situations, Vander will step in as your buffer, redirecting attention away from you and making sure you feel supported.

Ekko

• Ekko loves how your unique perspective inspires new ideas for his inventions and plans. “I never thought about it like that before. You’re a genius!”

• He’s super patient and understanding when you need extra time or space. He’ll happily sit with you in silence or create a quiet spot in the Firelights’ hideout.

• Ekko is great at turning your interests into shared activities. Whether it’s exploring something you love or working on a sensory-friendly project together, he’s all in.

• He’s also protective but in a gentle way. If anyone makes you uncomfortable, Ekko will firmly but calmly handle the situation.

• He loves watching you stim or express joy in your unique way. “You’re just… so you. And that’s my favorite thing about you.”

Jayce

• Jayce is fascinated by how your mind works. He’s always asking questions to better understand your needs and how he can support you.

• If you struggle with sensory issues, he’ll invent practical solutions to make your life easier. “Okay, try this—soundproofing tech, lightweight, and it looks cool too.”

• Jayce is incredibly affirming and will constantly remind you how much he admires you. “You’re amazing just the way you are, you know that?”

• He’s great at standing up for you in social situations, using his charm and confidence to deflect attention if you’re feeling overwhelmed.

• Jayce loves seeing you light up when talking about your special interests. He’ll sit and listen for hours, genuinely enthralled by your enthusiasm.

Viktor

• Viktor is deeply empathetic and values your unique way of thinking. He often asks for your input on his projects, appreciating your fresh perspective.

• He’s very mindful of your routines and boundaries, always ensuring you feel comfortable in his presence. “Do let me know if I need to adjust anything, my dear.”

• If you’re ever overstimulated, Viktor offers quiet comfort, sitting beside you and holding your hand without pressuring you to talk.

• He’s endlessly patient and loves learning about your passions. “Your knowledge is extraordinary. I could listen to you talk about this all day.”

• Viktor admires your honesty and straightforwardness. He finds it refreshing and often leans on your clarity to help him navigate complex situations.

Caitlyn

• Caitlyn is incredibly supportive and attentive to your needs. She’ll go out of her way to create an environment where you feel safe and understood.

• She’s quick to pick up on your sensory preferences, always offering solutions like quiet spaces or comfortable textures. “Would this be better for you, love?”

• Caitlyn is your biggest advocate, especially in social settings. If anyone is unkind or dismissive, she’ll firmly but politely set them straight.

• She loves your honesty and values your straightforward nature. It’s one of the reasons she feels so grounded with you.

• Caitlyn is also endlessly patient, offering you comfort and understanding without ever making you feel rushed or judged.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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@dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya

[hees-mine]

Say goodbye - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: mature content.

Genre: 18+, ex’s.

Word count: 3k+

-

Ten at night, you found yourself standing outside your ex’s apartment, an apartment you used to frequent on days off or when he planned dates for the two of you at his place, that used to be your second home, but you messed all of that up when you broke up with him seven months ago.

Thinking back now, you realize just how much of a mistake you made, but you were not in a good head space at the time. That being said, it still wasn’t a valid reason for you to dump him. He was the only person who kept all your little pieces together. Even when you were in tough times, he was able to make everything better. Heeseung was the most devoted boyfriend to you. He was your rock. He was literally your everything.

But at some point, you decided to hide your worries from him and keep them to yourself. You knew he’d always be there for you to help you through everything, but you didn’t want to burden him all the time with your issues.

Clearly, you weren’t thinking straight.

As time went on, it only got tougher on you, and hiding things just became the norm. There was a lot going on, and at that time, it was all just too much for you to handle, and you didn’t want to waste his time while you were still figuring things out.

He deserved someone who knew what they wanted and how to communicate what they wanted, not someone who easily changed with the wind and carried too much baggage. So you decided to call it quits with him so that he could find someone who was good for him because you were far from that.

But after these long seven months, you were regretting your decision to leave him. Hell, you didn’t even want to do it in the first place, but you thought it’d be best for you and him.

And that’s all you ever wanted, was the best for him.

He was clearly hurt and shocked when you told him those heartbreaking words, and the look of sadness and confusion on his face made your heart break into pieces.

And it broke into even tinier pieces when he tried everything to get you to change your mind.

“We can spend some time apart, but I’ll always be here for you.”

“I can give you some space.”

“Maybe a little break is all we need.”

He really didn’t want to lose you, but you had other plans, ones you thought would make his life and yours easier. If anything, it only made it worse. It took you too long to realize it months had already passed, and for all you know, he could have someone new by now.

You’d text him weekly, and he’d never respond. You’re surprised he hadn’t blocked you yet, but a tiny little piece of you was grateful that he didn’t cause just seeing that he left your messages on seen was enough for you to hold out an ounce of hope.

You saw him three times since the breakup to pick up all your things. You quietly entered his apartment, never sharing information about how you were feeling, nor did he, but he didn’t have to cause you could clearly see the animosity he held for you.

But who are you kidding? You broke up with him with no explanation other than you needing to sort things out. You’d be upset if someone left you like that, too. You realize how much of a shitty thing that was to do, and you’re so sorry for it.

All that being said you hoped he wouldn’t be too upset when he saw you standing outside his door this late at night.

You inhaled a deep breath and knocked on his door. Not even a minute later, you heard the latch click, and the door creaked open soon later, revealing your ex, the most handsome, sweet man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

His eyes widened for a moment, surprised to see you there, but the shock quickly died down. The look of annoyance taking over his features was quite evident. “What are you doing here?” He asked, folding his arms over his chest and trying his best not to roll his eyes at that half-assed smile you gave him.

Read full story on patreon!

Posting more soon! Sorry for the inactivity🩵

[dp-marvel94]

Real -Chapter 1

Summary:

While hiding from his parents in Gotham, an ill-timed encounter with his neighbor, Jason, has Danny pretending to be his own twin. Fortunately for Danny, the more he pretends the easier it gets. Until he is not pretending at all. Or: Danny names a duplicate and via ghost logic, said duplicate ends up becoming real.

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Also on AO3

Notes:

This story was written thanks to @jackdaw-sprite who commented on a Tumblr post a wrote asking what I should write next with "I haven't read nearly as many of your works as I'd like to before saying which ones I'd like to see continued, but there's one where Danny names a duplicate, and because of ghost logic, the duplicate becomes real. It feels like such a neat idea to play with!" So here I am writing a whole fic about it! Structurally, this is still very much half-fic outline with some important scenes written out. I'm not planning on expanding it beyond what it is. Still, I hope you enjoy the story. :) A note for readers, those here for the DC content especially: this is very much a Danny heavy fic. The focus will be on Danny and Jamie's relationship as the clone goes from just a duplicate without its own life, to a real person with his own identity. The Bats, Jason especially, will be present, and important for Jamie becoming his own person. But those relationships are definitely secondary to Danny and Jamie's.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny runs from his parents and the GIW. Soon, he finds himself living in a crummy apartment and trying to keep a low profile. He doesn't have very much, so he is very excited to find an actually in decent shape couch that someone was throwing out. It's late so, figuring no one will see him, Danny duplicates to have two pairs of hands to get the furniture up the stairs and into his apartment. 

Of course, Danny does get spotted by his neighbor, Jason, who offers to hold doors open and help with the unwieldy couch. Names are exchanged: Danny and, after a pause as Danny realizes he has to come up with something for his duplicate, Jamie. The "three" manage to get the couch inside. But now Jason is worried about what appears to be a pair of twins, 16 years old at the most, living alone in the apartment with one ratty couch and a bookbag between them. Jason isn't pushy or overly concerned, but he does make a point to check on his new neighbors regularly. 

After the second time running into Jason and being asked about "Jaime," Danny realizes he's going to have to pretend to be his own twin. Duplication is very helpful for that, though he tries not to do it too often and for too long; it does use a lot of energy. He'll just have the "twins" make regular, short appearances together. It's not like he's trying to get close to anyone in Gotham 

But inevitably, short appearances escalate into having dinner with Jason. The first is a one off; man claimed he made too much and Danny didn't really have money for food. Plus it was really good. Accepting the hospitality just this once wouldn't be that bad. Of course, "Jamie" has come to dinner too.

One dinner leads to more meals with his neighbor, to Jason trying to teach "the twins" to cook more than easy mac. 

Jason's youngest brother meets the "twins" when he pounds on the door during dinner and barges in, complaining that "Father is being unreasonable" and had ground him.

Damian and "the twins" end up huddling in Jason's apartment during Danny's first rogue attack since he arrived in Gotham. Jason ran off as soon as the alert went off, claiming that he was needed at the fire station where he worked. He pointedly says that Damian can stay and look after his non-Gothamite neighbors since he's grounded. The preteen is prickly but does stay put. Danny starts to get restless, unable to re-merge and starting to fear that his energy will waver and "Jamie" will pop out of existence. He nervously eyes the door and Damian threatens to stab him if he tries to leave, saying that "Todd is apparently fond of you both and will be quite peeved" with Damian if something happens to Danny and Jamie. 

Well.... Jamie will definitely disappear if Damian stabs him. So Danny manages to maintain his duplicate for five hours, more than twice as long as any time before. By the time the threat is over and Danny can go back to his apartment, he is straining, desperately trying to hide how exhausted and shaky he is from the excursion. He loses hold of the duplicate as soon as the door is closed.

Despite the hardship, maintaining a duplicate is somehow so much easier after that. He can stay duplicated for longer and gradually, he realizes controlling the secondary body is becoming easier. At the beginning, he needed a lot of effort and control to pilot the duplicate, having to mentally direct it to speak or move. He played "Jamie" as being shy and quiet, so there was less talking to dictate. But overtime, the need for mental prompting becomes less and less. Playing "Jamie" became more automatic, more instinctual. Almost like the duplicate runs on auto-pilot, mostly acting how Danny himself would, though more reserved. To an outside perspective, it looks like "Jamie" is finally getting comfortable and coming out of his shell. But to Danny, this was a relief, spending less energy running his duplicate and less time worrying about being found out.

Slowly, Danny meets more of Jason's family. One of Jay's brothers, Tim, runs into him at his coffee shop job and, blinking sleepily, asks which twin he is, before realizing that Danny is wearing a name tag. This leads to Danny's coworkers finding out about "Jamie" and his "twin" visiting him at work.

As the act grows and more people end up meeting "the twins," Danny spends more and more time pretending to be a pair of twins in more and more ridiculous situations. Playing both of them gets easier and easier, more and more comfortable until the twins can banter, share inside jokes, and tell stories from their childhood. Maybe it is intentional, maybe it's subconscious. But slowly, differences develop to differentiate the twins. "Jamie" is growing out his hair. He loves toast and watching documentaries about history. Danny, more and more convincingly, pretends to have a brother until at some points... it no longer feels like he is pretending.

Despite his new friends, Danny is still so lonely. The apartment is still almost bare, the money he gets from his job barely enough. It's never the job he wanted; he wants to be in school now, applying to colleges so he can get into NASA. But he can't do anything to draw attention to  himself, not with the government breathing down his neck or the danger of the vigilantes running him out for being a “meta”. And he misses his friends and sister so badly.

One particularly hard night, when he is heartbroken and hurting, Danny lies on his second-hand mattress in the dark, weeping. He mourns his parents turning on him, his heart aching for Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. He wishes more than anything that he was not alone right now.

Suddenly, there is a yanking on his core that leaves his gasping. A full body pulling sensation that almost feels like being peeled, except somehow it does not hurt. A second later, it is over and through his blurry eyes, Danny can barely make out a figure kneeling in front of him. Arms coax him into sitting up and pull him into a hug. Danny cries for a long while, not thinking about what just happened, not thinking about what... or who... is holding him. He just accepts the comfort, savors the feeling that he is not alone.

Finally, after the tears slow, Danny pulls back and looks. He lets himself realize what he is looking at. And as he takes in eyes like his, the feeling is something between awe and fear. There is a light in the blue eyes, a spark that he does not recognize. 

And as the brow wrinkles in confusion and the mouth slowly works, words spiral out. Words that Danny could never have predicted.

"If we... if you keep doing this..." Each word is slow and deliberate, as if each takes great effort. "This...." One hand motions slowly, vaguely, as if un-used to movement. "Jamie won't be a lie anymore."

Danny is stunned. He stares for a long while, unable to process. He does not understand what the words mean, why the spark in those eyes makes him just as elated as it makes him afraid.

So he takes the duplicate's hand and pulls the ecto-energy back inside himself. He reabsorbs it and "Jamie" disappears. And Danny thinks.

Slowly, he realizes how easy staying duplicated has become, how distant and foggy memories from his duplicate's perspective are. He replays the words in his head. 'If you keep doing this... Jamie won't be a lie anymore.' He wonders if they mean what they suggest, and most startlingly.... he wonders where they had come from, if not from himself.

For a few days, he avoids anyone who has met the twins or claims that his "twin" is busy whenever someone asks. But inevitably, his trusty neighbor Jason notices the avoidance and invites himself over to cook dinner. Reluctantly, Danny duplicates; there is clearly no avoiding this conversation.

The dinner is awkward. Danny has a hard time looking at Jason.... and an even harder time looking at his seeming twin. None of the three say much and by the end, their neighbor huffs a sigh and says his piece. 

“Look. I know that no one, especially two teens, live in a shitty apartment in Crime Alley if they can avoid it. I don't know if you got kicked out, ran away from home, are hiding from something. And I don’t care. I won't ask. But I was an alley kid. I lost my mom younger than both of you, ended up on the street. I know what it's like just scraping by, trying to survive all on my own.�� That's why I look out for the kids here. I want to help you guys, no matter what your story is.”

Danny stammers out a disbelieving thanks. He is touched, really, despite the fear of discovery, of vulnerability quivering in his heart. Jason is a good guy and it feels good to have someone who cares. But... the maybe-not-a-lie sits on the couch beside him. A story he could never hope to explain...

Jason smiles, ruffling both of the twin's hairs. He stands to leave. "Take care," he says, almost afterthought. "You're lucky to have each other."

"Jamie" seems to lean, just the tiniest bit closer to Danny at the words. 

Jason leaves and it is just Danny and his duplicate. The half ghost releases a breath, letting some of the tension release. He reaches to reabsorb his double and-

A shaky hand grips his forearm. Danny looks, meeting the blue eyes. The spark is back, just the smallest hint in the posture that something is different. Slowly, the brow wrinkles, becoming something worried.

"What is it?" Danny finds himself saying, as if he expects a real response.

"Have... each other." Again, the words are slow as if just the act of thinking is hard. "Not a lie."

Now Danny's brow is wrinkled. "Not a lie? Are you saying that's true? Or asking if it is?"

"Not a lie." The words repeat. "Jamie not a lie."

Danny's stomach knots. He’s heard his duplicate speak dozens of times, even been surprised by some offered puns. But this…

“Not a lie.” One more repeat, this one faster, surer, almost desperate.

Danny looks up again. “Jamie.” He says the name. He’s spoken to his double before in front of other people, as part of the act. But this… it feels as bizarre as it feels right. “Jamie…. Are you… real?”

For just a second, there is something like hope in the other’s eyes. Then, the brow furrows in great effort. “Yes… No….” One more longer, unsure pause. “Becoming.”

“You’re… becoming real?” The words are breathy. Danny isn’t sure whether they make him feel that same hope, or if he feels sick.

The half ghost looks away, staring down at his lap. He doesn’t know what this is, how this is  happening. A moment of panic stabs. Is he sick or insane? Or… is it a trick? A trap?

Danny reaches with his mind, trying to feel. A parasite infecting him? Another ghost, trying to overshadow. There is a connection, a bundle of a dozen fine threads. It is a link to… something not quite separate. Danny feels the almost presence at the end, the not-quite himself he is speaking with. And… It is like cradling a baby bird. Small, fragile, and so young. No malice, just pure innocence.

The half ghost looks up again. His hand shifts, feeling the cold flesh. His fingers press, the almost flutter of a heart beneath the skin.

The awe from that late night rises, a question echoing in his head. What happens if he lets this  continue? 

He… won’t be alone. Danny remembers that night, crying on his mattress and desperately wanting comfort. And all those times hanging out with Jason. The jokes and banter started as an act to sell the lie. But… weren't they so much more now? Danny had pretended to have a brother and in pretending had imagined one… Now that brother, that twin sat beside him. 

But at the same time… fear spiked. What would happen if he didn’t stop this? Could he even stop this if he wanted to? It feels inevitable, unstoppable. Not if he stays living next to Jason. But… if he tells the truth? Or if he runs, starts again somewhere else. He could reabsorb his duplicate now and let this whole thing fade into memory. Jamie would disappear…

A wave of fear surges from outside himself. Danny meets terrified eyes. Something in him softens, crumples.

“Jamie?” Danny asks again and can almost feel the heart-flutter solidifying. “Do you want to be real?”

There is a pause, the fearful face becoming something narrowed eyes and sure. “Yes.” So much determination. Danny feels the one thread of dozens snap.

“Alright then.” Danny heaves a sigh, deciding. 

He will hold out as long as he can. He will stay duplicated, keep Jamie here until he’s not a duplicate at all. Jamie will be real.

[ceratedfish24]

Your takes on c!Scott and flower husbands have honestly been so refreshing that its reignited my old Hot Takes on c!Jimmy bc I detest the way people characterize him.

I feel like so many people portray Jimmy as this dejected downtrodden victim of bullying, which feeds into a narrative that Scott was cruel and abusive and awful or whatever, and tends to act like Jimmy doesn't have any agency ever. But IN REALITY??? Jimmy is not downtrodden and dejected and sad!!!!! In my opinion, Jimmy's defining character trait is his unshakable TENACITY! Ppl never want to admit that Jimmy is a little shit! That he acts out of spite, that his friends' teasing only tends to motivate him!! He *thrives* in environments that challenge him! AND to be so for real, he is a grown man with agency and decision-making skills and I'm tired of people acting like he isn't.

In general I feel like people just have the wrong outlook on him as a character. Maybe they've just collectively misunderstood him, or a Helpless Miserable Victim is easier to write about in fic, or they just want to project their own bullying-related trauma onto him or whatever. (People do similar things to Scar when talking about desert duo, which I understand even less). IDK. These are just my thoughtssssss sorry for rambling :P

No because you’re literally so real for this. Jimmy is SUCH a little shit. His response to Joel being mad at Jimmy for trying to kill him was to SHAKE HIS ASS AT JOEL. He taunted Joel because Jimmy successfully used Lizzie to bait Joel out. He tried to guilt trip Scott into giving him time. These aren’t negative qualities. This is a guy being silly with his friends. Embrace them when writing c!Jimmy. These are wonderful and realistic qualities.

Jimmy’s tenacity is so remarkable. He gets knocked down and all of his friends tease him about it, and he stands right back up with pep in his step. A lot of people treat Pearl the same way. Like, guys, these people are adults who make their own choices, and, often times, people who are given free will are not going to make the responsible choice most of the time when there are no real world consequences to their actions other than maybe “I might not get to be in the finale of this Minecraft series”.

There is SO much favoritism in the Life Series. Jimmy and Pearl are always reduced to their greatest tragedies, while Scott and Cleo are reduced to their most selfish moments, even though everyone else is equally selfish because IT IS A DEATH GAME. IT IS A COMPETITION. THAT IS THE POINT.

A lot of Jimmy’s deaths tend to be his own doing. Whether he unnecessarily made an enemy or just wasn’t being careful, a lot of Jimmy’s deaths are his fault, and that’s fine. He likes to play into bits. He’s not that serious about winning as opposed to making fun content. Pearl has made her fair share of mistakes and enemies, and that adds plot and drama to her content. That’s how she plays it, and it’s fine! Don’t infantilize them for dealing with the consequences of their actions just like everybody else!

Scott was widowed, and he had to watch his allies die before he did for seasons. Nobody ever comforts him about it. Nobody says “oh this man is so sad he’s just doing his best but he can’t keep his friends alive and it’s eating him up and everyone should baby him”.

Nobody even calls Joel toxic for constantly targeting Scott, but somehow Scott is toxic for teasing Jimmy now and then? (Which is not to say that Joel is toxic. He just finds it fun to target his good friend and knows where Scott’s limits are. It’s actually a sign of how close they are in real life). Nobody calls Etho and Bdubs toxic for being so mean to each other. Nobody calls Impulse manipulative when his whole thing in Third Life was betraying people. Nobody says Ren is controlling for taking the lead in Dogwarts or calling the Renwood Mound the Ren Mound. Scar is a liar and a scammer and no one thinks less of him for it.

Do you wanna know why? Because they’re friends having fun. Scott and Scott’s character should be treated with that same respect given to everyone else. Also, people need to keep in mind that Scott is not actively playing a character. Scott is just playing the game the way that cc!Scott wants to play the game, so any in depth analysis of Scott’s “character”? That’s an over analysis of cc!Scott in a competitive environment, and that man is literally on this site, people. He knows about Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss, Girldad. I’ve seen him reply to analysis posts on why Scott is manipulative. He’s literally just a guy playing a game for fun.

Imagine if someone accused you of playing an evil and selfish character because you asked your friend to give you the monopoly money they owe you. Or, worse imagine if someone accused you of playing a manipulative character because you let your friend land on your monopoly property without paying you????? Because you love your friend??????? Like, excuse me????????

Thank you for the ask!!!!!! 🩵🩵🩵 It’s always flattering when someone calls my posts “refreshing”💕💕💕(also I see you all the time and I love seeing your additions to my posts💖)

[loulovingho]

tags: violence (gay bashing), homophobic slurs, blood, hurt/comfort, angst, healing, heading toward getting back together, happy-enough ending

(ao3 link or read below)

Like Fine China

“Hey, I need you to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You hear me? Try to keep your eyes open.”

He recognized that voice. The last time he'd heard it was just a few weeks ago, at the hospital. Who was it for though? Why was he at the hospital that time?

His brain felt like a jumbled mess. His body felt even worse.

He just wanted to sleep.

“Tommy! Tommy, can you hear me?”

Athena! That's who was speaking to him.

He opened his mouth, cracked one eye open. God, it hurt!

“I- I'm,” the words felt foreign as they escaped him. His voice didn't sound like his own. His mouth was dry, and held a bad taste.

Whiskey and... and metal.

Blood.

“Tommy, paramedics are on their way, okay? I just need you to stay with me until they get here.”

It was dark, but something was shining bright in his face.

“Flash... Flashlight,” he managed to get out, squeezing his eye back shut.

“Eyes- Eye open, Tommy. I'll get the flashlight out of your face, but I need to know you're with me.”

Wait. Had she said paramedics? They couldn't. He couldn't let them- let him see.

“No, no, no,” he mumbled out, shaking his head a couple times until a sharp pain shot through it. “No, h- he can't. I don't-”

“They're not on shift, Tommy.”

He tried to push himself up, away from where she hovered over him. He didn't manage to get very far before she placed a hand on his chest.

“Tommy, you cannot get up. I need you to stay still, and stay conscious. Those two things are your only jobs. You hear me?”

“I can't,” his words were so garbled. He coughed up the blood that'd been dripping down his throat.

I can't let him see.”

“Listen to me, Tommy!” Athena exclaimed, getting right in Tommy's face. He could barely see her, but he could feel her breath on his face. “They're not coming. Buck isn't coming; it'll be someone else.”

In the distance, he heard the sound of sirens. He didn't feel relief. Didn't feel much of anything at all. He was fading, fast. It took all his energy to force out one last sentence before he lost consciousness. “Don't... Don't tell him.”

*****

He just wanted to go out for a drink. Something a little stronger than craft beer.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Evan- no, Buck. He was Buck now.

It'd been two weeks since he broke up with Buck and the ache in his chest felt the same way it did the second he walked out of the loft.

He'd thought he was saving himself from future heartbreak, and maybe he was, but it didn't quite make it hurt any less.

Georgie's wasn't exactly a gay bar, but Georgie was gay and the bar itself became a sort of unofficial hang out for older people in the lgbtq+ community. No loud music and everyone left each other alone. A perfect place to decompress while still allowing yourself to be free.

After a couple of whiskey sours, and yeah, a pitcher of craft beer, Tommy was ready to go.

He waited outside, near the alleyway, for his Uber. He found himself going to his messages, hovering over Evan's name. He hadn't had the heart to change it to Buck yet.

He'd been wanting to text him since the breakup. Talk about it some more. Actually give a reason for why it- why he- fell apart so fast. How Buck's words triggered some terrible memories for him. How he suddenly realized there was no way he could be everything he thought Buck needed. Everything Buck deserved. Not to mention they hadn't even exchanged I love you's. And it was insane to think all of Tommy's things could fit in Buck's loft. Buck's things could fit in his house so much easier!

He clicked on Evan's name, started to type something out, erased it, started again, erased it again.

He was usually so aware of his surroundings. His time in the military did that to him. It did a lot of things to him actually, many of which he wasn't very thankful for. However, he prided himself on not being oblivious.

Tonight he was oblivious.

He didn't expect five men to jump him at once. He was a strong guy. Had taken on three men about fifteen years earlier. Did it with ease too.

But not five men. Not when one had a bat, and one had brass knuckles, and one was at least 6'5 and three hundred pounds. Not when they dragged him to the ground and into the alley before he had a chance to react. Screaming slurs at him as they took turns using his body as a punching bag.

He tried to fight. At one point, he was sure he kicked one of the guy's in the face. Heard him yell something like, “The fag broke my tooth!”

It only made things worse.

He wasn't sure when he first lost consciousness, but he knew they were still on top of him. Still laughing as they hit and kicked. He heard the sounds of someone spitting at some point. Felt wet on his face.

Then there was nothing.

Until someone stepped out from somewhere, and maybe they heard him groan? Maybe it was his Uber driver wondering where he was? Maybe it was an employee taking out the trash? He wasn't sure. He could barely hear someone telling him they were calling the police. There was a ringing in his ears, and his lungs felt like they were on fire. Someone said something about wheezing, barely breathing. He wondered what that was about.

Then there was Athena. Then nothing again.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a dimly lit hospital room. He was confused. Could barely see out of one eye and everything was blurry out of the other.

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and maybe some tiny humans hitting his brain with hammers.

“Are you... awake awake or not really awake?”

The sound of a man's voice startled him. He couldn't hardly move, but he was able to focus his eyes across the room at the figure in the corner.

“Ed- Eddie?”

God, his voice sounded weird. Why did it sound like that? Like he'd spent the last 30 years smoking a pack a day.

“Yeah, I'm here.”

He sounded hesitant. Maybe they'd had this conversation before? If they had, Tommy certainly didn't remember it.

“Wha- Why?”

Eddie stepped closer. “You're in the hospital, Man.”

Tommy wanted to roll his eyes. No duh.

He settled for clearing his throat, which turned into a burning sensation running down his chest. “Why're you... here?” he tried. Hoped Eddie understood that much.

“Tommy-”

“I t- told Athena-” he had to pause to take a breath. “Told her not to tell.”

“Actually, you told Athena not to tell him. And she assumed, correctly, I'm sure, that him was Buck. So she called me instead.”

Tommy closed his eyes. “Why?”

“Why'd she call me? Oh, maybe because you don't have anyone listed as an emergency contact and you were nearly beat to death so she figured you might need someone to be here when you woke up.”

Tommy's jaw clenched at Eddie's harsh words.

Nearly beat to death.

He was nearly beat to death.

Eddie either noticed Tommy's heart rate going up on the monitor, or his eyes filling with tears, because he was right beside his bed in two strides. “Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I- I'm kinda pissed, Man.”

“S'okay,” Tommy replied, swallowing hard. “I deserve it.”

Eddie looked taken aback. “No, I'm not- Tommy, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at this,” he said, gesturing over Tommy's body. “I've never seen...” Eddie's voice trailed off and, through Tommy's own blurry vision, he could see that Eddie was close to crying.

“What'd they do to me?” Tommy asked, barely able to take in all his injuries. His entire body hurt, no part any worse or less than the other. He could feel something on every limb, but he couldn't quite move his head around enough to see what it was.

Eddie took a deep breath. He wiped at his eyes with his fingers, sniffling before getting started. “You've got bruising on about seventy-five percent of your body. You had surgery for a busted kneecap on your right knee. Your left arm has a fracture, and your right one has thirty stitches, I think. They broke a few ribs, so it's gonna hurt like hell when you take a deep breath or cough. Um, you had some internal bleeding, but they got that under control pretty fast. You've got a fracture in your cheek, which may cause some extra pain when you talk. You've got a few broken fingers too, and lost a couple fingernails during your- when you were defending yourself.”

“Hm,” Tommy hummed once Eddie was done. “S'that all?”

Eddie shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I'm sure I missed a couple things, actually, jackass.”

Tommy let out a laugh, which quickly turned into a groan. “Thanks for coming, Eddie,” he said, trying and failing at moving himself into a slightly more comfortable position. “You don't have to stay though. I'll be fine.”

Eddie stared at him incredulously. “You're kidding me.”

Tommy shifted his eyes back in Eddie's direction. “No, I- I'll be okay. I've got it. Just,” he paused to take a breath, “don't let Buck know, please.”

Eddie raised a finger toward Tommy. “Well, see, about that. You only told Athena not to tell him before, and-”

“You didn't.”

“-and see he was already at my place when I got the call, so-”

“Please tell me you didn't.”

“I have one with cream and one with sugar and- Oh my God, you're awake!” The sound of Buck's voice had Tommy's head twisting toward the door so quickly that a pain shot from the bottom of his back all the way to the top of his head. “Ow!” he yelped, clenching his teeth and tossing his head against the pillow, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Oh my God. Has the nurse come in yet? Have they checked his vitals? Eddie, you said he'd be out for a while! Tommy, do you feel any nausea? Do you remember who we are? The nurses said you might have-”

“Buck!” Eddie exclaimed. “Stop. He's okay.” He glanced over at Tommy, “I did forget to mention the head trauma.”

Tommy groaned, giving him a glare.

Eddie walked over to Buck and took the drink carrier from his hands. “I'll go find a nurse, you stay with him.”

Tommy wanted to yell out to Eddie to please not go, and also screw you, and maybe throw a couple hand gestures in there too. He stayed silent instead.

Buck looked Tommy up and down, hesitating slightly before walking up to the side of the bed. “So, you're-”

“I want to see myself,” Tommy blurted.

“Oh, um, I... Tommy, I don't. It might be better to wait.”

Tommy managed to move his head enough to look up at Buck. He could see the fear- no, the panic- in Buck's eyes.

“I wanna see," he repeated.

“Tommy-”

“Buck!” It took a lot of strength to get his name out so forcefully, and he didn't quite mean it to sound as angry as it did, but this wasn't Buck's decision. It was his. And he wanted to see what he looked like.

Buck pulled his phone from his back pocket, his hands shaking slightly as he pulled up the camera.

Slowly, he lifted the phone up to Tommy's face.

The second it registered that he was looking at himself, Tommy sucked in a breath. He grimaced as pain radiated through his chest but, when Buck went to move the camera away he stopped him. “No,” he said. “Just. Just wait.”

He knew his eyes were swollen by how out of focus his vision was, but he had no idea just how bad they looked. The right was worse than the left, but both were an angry mixture of black, purple, and green. The bruise on the left side of his face ran down his cheek to his jaw, circling underneath his chin like a half moon and fading into his facial hair. There were marks on his neck. Looked like someone's hand. He could understand Eddie's hesitancy on mentioning that. He didn't remember anyone gripping him there, which was probably for the best.

His forehead had more bruises, and cuts too. There was dried blood at his hairline, some stitched up cuts. His curly hair was nearly matted to his head, his scalp a brutal crimson.

“I tried to wash the blood out of your hair with a washcloth,” Buck explained anxiously, “but you have some lacerations on your scalp and I didn't want to bother them until they healed a little more.”

It was all so overwhelming. There was a whirring sound in his ears that made him feel dizzy. His eyes burned as they filled with tears that he didn't have the strength to wipe away.

“Okay,” he said, his voice uneven. He cleared his throat. “Can you- You can go, please. I don't... You can go.”

“Tommy-”

“Ev- Buck, I'm awake, I'm fine, I don't need anyone here.” He stared straight ahead, unable to look Buck in the eyes. “Please.”

“No.”

Tommy really didn't feel like dealing with stubborn Evan right now. “I don't-”

“I don't really care, Tommy. I'm not leaving you here. I've been at this damn hospital for three days now and I'm staying until you go home. I don't care what-”

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind him.

“Got the nurse,” Eddie said, an awkward smile on his face. The nurse, to her credit, ignored all the tension in the room.

“Let me get some hand sanitizer and gloves and I'll be right with you, Mr. Kinard.”

Buck sighed. He stepped even closer to Tommy. “I'm gonna go into the hall long enough for the nurse to check you out,” he said, maneuvering himself until he was halfway leaning over the bed, his arm on the other side of Tommy to prop himself up as he forced him to make eye contact. “I will be back in a few minutes. You have people who care about you, Tommy, whether you like it or not.”

With that said, Buck stood back up and left the room.

*****

Tommy spent a few more days in the hospital before he was released. There were only two times that Buck left long enough to get a shower and get a little rest in a real bed. Both of those times, he made sure Eddie was there the entire time.

Athena had come in to get his statement. Asked him all sorts of questions, most of which Tommy couldn't answer. He hadn't really gotten a good look at them. Only had very basic descriptions. He remembered the slurs they had hurled at him, knew they attacked because he was gay. He couldn't really figure out how they knew though. Besides being outside of that bar, it wasn't like Tommy ever did anything that screamed gay. Not that it mattered.

She'd been honest with him. There were no cameras at that part of the street, or in the alleyway. No one got a good description of the attackers, and the person who called the police only saw their shadows as they disappeared into the night. She'd do everything she could, but it wasn't likely they'd find these men. At least, not until they did this again.

Bobby stopped by once with some homemade chicken noodle soup. Buck had to feed him every bite, which made Tommy feel like he was about to cry the entire time, but he managed half a bowl before he had to stop. It was a million times better than anything the hospital had been feeding him, and he was glad to know Bobby had put some in his freezer to give Tommy when he got home.

Chim and Maddie came one evening. He'd been asleep when they got there, woke up some time during their visit, but he kept his eyes shut until they left.

Honestly, every time someone walked through the doors he felt more and more like running out of the hospital and finding a hole to fall into. Then, if he were lucky, someone would just shovel some dirt over him and let him rest.

These weren't his people. They were Buck's people. They didn't need to be there for him. They needed to hate him. They needed to laugh at his bruises and tell him he deserved every last one. They needed to yell at him for breaking Buck's heart to try and save his own.

That'd be a lot easier than this.

Thankfully, Hen and Karen didn't come by. They did send flowers though, and a card that explained both kids had strep throat and they didn't want to risk bringing that to the hospital. They'd come by Tommy's place once he was home.

He and Buck didn't talk about anything that needed to be talked about. All the unsent messages that had swirled through Tommy's mind didn't matter right now. It was like an unspoken rule between the two of them. Right now was not the time to try and fix whatever happened between them. Right now was about Tommy healing.

*****

As soon as they got Tommy home, Buck left Eddie with him so he could go to the pharmacy and pick up his medications. When he got back, Eddie headed out to go home and rest, promising to come back later with a variety of foods that would be easy on Tommy to eat.

The silence felt more... silent at Tommy's house. It was different now that they were at home instead of a hospital with people coming in and out at all times.

Tommy needed to do something, say something, to break the silence.

“I wasn't on a date,” he muttered out as Buck organized his pain meds on his nightstand.

Buck paused briefly before getting right back to it. “Didn't think you were.”

Tommy nodded. “Okay. I just, I don't know, didn't want you to think that.”

“You go to Georgie's when your brain is working overtime and you need it to quiet down.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. “I didn't know I ever told you that.”

“You didn't,” Buck replied, handing Tommy his pills and a glass of water. “I just know you.”

Tommy swallowed the pills, wincing slightly. His throat still felt scratchy even a week later. “I don't know how they knew,” he said as Buck took the water from him and set it on his nightstand.

“Who knew what?”

“Those guys that-” he stopped. “I don't know how they knew I was gay.”

“A lot of queer people hang out at Georgie's,” Buck answered. “They probably took a guess.”

The thought of it made Tommy's stomach lurch. “I've spent most of my life trying to make sure people couldn't guess.”

Buck watched him for a moment quizzically. “Tommy, you're not... You don't blame yourself for this, do you? You know this wasn't your fault, right?”

Tommy avoided eye contact with Buck. He felt so small right now. “I know I didn't do anything to provoke them.”

“That doesn't really answer my question.”

“I just... I don't know what I could have done differently. I know I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. I... I should probably go to a different bar, maybe. I don't know.”

“You can't be serious right now.”

“This is everything I feared my entire life, Buck,” Tommy admitted and, God, he wished he could shut up right now. The pain pills were starting to make him a little loose lipped, mixed with him truly being alone with Buck for the first time since they broke up, mixed with an undeniable fear every time he thought about that night, seemed to make it impossible to close his mouth. “I did everything to make sure nothing like this would ever happen to me and it still did. I keep thinking about it and wondering how it could have been different. How I could have been different.”

“Tommy, can you look at me?”

Slowly, Tommy looked up at Buck, his eyes shining with tears.

“This was not your fault. There's nothing you could or should have done differently. You cannot let those five men shove you back into a closet.”

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “They're not. It's just... a lot right now.”

“I get that, I- I do. You look tired. Why don't you rest for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up.”

“Buck, you don't-”

“If you tell me I don't need to stay I will force feed you bone broth when you wake up.”

Tommy shivered. “Ugh! I hate bone broth.”

“I know you do.” Buck gently pulled a pillow out from under Tommy, allowing him to lie back easier. “Close your eyes, get some rest. I'm here when you need me.”

*****

They were bound to fight sometime. Tommy had honestly expected it to happen sooner. Buck had been staying with him for three weeks now, only gone when he was working a shift. Bobby had let him work part time for now, with Carla caring for him when Buck was gone.

They'd managed to get past the initial awkwardness. Buck rambled about any and every subject he could think of. They'd watch movies together on the couch, with Tommy falling asleep halfway through due to his pain meds.

Buck would get Tommy tucked in bed, then set himself up on Tommy's floor in case he was needed during the night. Tommy had tried to insist he use the spare room, but Buck wouldn't hear of it. He knew Tommy wouldn't call for him if he needed him through the night.

Then Tommy tried to suggest he sleep in the bed. But that was a no go because, “I kick, Tommy, you know this. Do you really want another knee surgery?”

They'd been focused on Tommy getting better. And they'd been ignoring the many, many elephants in the room.

So, a fight was expected.

What wasn't expected was for the fight to start because Tommy needed to pee.

Buck had seemed a bit more on edge today, but Tommy chalked that up to a shift that ran longer than expected.

Tommy had grabbed his crutches, which he'd just been able to start using to go short distances. He still didn't quite trust himself to use them at night, but he was working toward relying on them more and relying on people less.

When he stood, Buck immediately stood with him.

“I'm fine, Buck. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

“I'll help you there.”

“I'm really fine. I can get there by myself.”

Tommy was sure he had kept his tone neutral. He definitely didn't want an argument tonight. But, before he could even make it two steps, he heard Buck scoff. “Not surprised.”

And maybe it was the full bladder making him extra bitchy, but Tommy couldn't help turning around and asking, “What's that mean?”

Buck shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “Nothing.”

“Obviously it's not nothing. If it were nothing you wouldn't have said anything in the first place. What doesn't surprise you?”

“Just you, ya know, pushing people away. It's what you do.”

“Ha!” Tommy laughed out. “If I'm pushing people away then I really suck at it because you haven't left my house in three weeks. I just need to pee.”

“I'm not talking about right now. I'm talking about me telling you that I loved you and you breaking up with me.”

How in the hell did they end up here?

“You didn't tell me you loved me, Evan!” Tommy exclaimed, unbelievably confused. The sudden change in tone caused Buck to take a step back.

He was only thrown off for a second, quick with a retort. “Of course I did!”

“No, you absolutely did not! You asked me to move in with you, but you did not tell me you loved me.”

“Wait. You asked him to move in with you?” Eddie's voice had them glaring in his direction. Both had forgotten he was even there in the first place. He raised his hands. “Sorry.”

“Well, I- it was obviously implied,” Buck argued. “I wouldn't have asked you to move in if I didn't love you.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?! You were making it sound like I was some gay hero that sewed the first pride flag! I don't even go to pride events, Evan! All the colors are far too bright and the glitter never leaves you.”

“Glitter is really annoying,” Eddie agreed.

Tommy pointed a crutch at him. “Thank you.”

“I was not trying to make you out to be some gay hero, Tommy! I was telling you that I was comfortable with you. I was telling you I wanted to spend all my time with you. I wanted us to be together!”

“You didn't even think it through, Evan!” Tommy motioned around the room. “I own a home. It comes with two bedrooms that have doors, a garage, a back yard, and two and a half bathrooms. You asked me to move into your loft.”

Eddie shook his head. “Oh, Buck.”

Buck's eyes shot over to him. “You're still here why?”

Eddie stood from his spot on the couch, grabbing his coat. “Yeah, I'm going. Later.”

They both stayed silent until they heard the door open and close.

Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “This is our first fight, isn't it?”

Tommy nodded. “It is.”

“Took us long enough.”

Tommy managed a small smile. “Probably should have fought you that night, honestly.”

“I think I would have felt better if you did.”

“Me too.” Tommy took a deep breath. “I actually really do have to pee,” he said, shifting from one crutch to the other. “Can we pause this until I'm done?”

Buck nodded. “I'll be here.”

They didn't actually fight anymore after that. It was time for Tommy to take his meds, which made him tired, and Buck was tired himself from his shift. Tommy laid in bed, Buck snoring on the floor beside him, thinking it all over. All the things he still felt like he needed to say. The unfinished business they had between them.

The fight wasn't much, but it was something.

It was enough.

For now.

*****

“Are you sure you're good on your own?” Buck asked as Tommy limped behind him toward the door.

“I'm sure. I can successfully do everything on my own now with minimal to no pain.”

Buck turned back to him quickly, eyes wide. “But there's still pain?”

Tommy smiled. “I'm fine, Evan.”

Buck didn't look so sure. “Okay, I... Okay.” Instinctively, he moved forward to wrap Tommy in a hug. He stopped himself before he got too close, but Tommy responded by opening his arms.

Buck's posture relaxed as he gently wrapped his arms around Tommy, careful not to squeeze too tightly. "I was so worried about you," he whispered in the space between them.

"I know."

“You'll call the number I gave you?” he asked.

“I already did yesterday,” Tommy admitted. “When you went out to pick up dinner. My first session is next Monday.”

“Good. That's... That's good.”

“Thank you, Evan. For everything you've done for me. You didn't have to do that.”

Reluctantly, Buck pulled himself away from Tommy.

“Did you realize you've been calling me Evan since our fight a couple weeks ago?” he asked, lips upturning into a smile.

“Oh, um,” Tommy shifted on his feet, taking the pressure off his bad knee. “Sorry. Habit.”

“Don't be sorry. I hate when you call me Buck.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I'll always- I wanna be Evan, to you.”

Tommy nodded, staring into Evan's eyes. “Okay. That's. I'd like that too.”

Buck continued toward the door, stopping again as soon as his hand touched the handle. He looked back. “Hey, Tommy?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time you think about texting me... hit send, okay?”

Tommy had never mentioned that before. But he'd caught Buck's near-texts to him too, so it didn't quite catch him off guard. “I'm kinda a mess, Evan. I'm not as comfortable as you think I am. I'm not... I'm still figuring things out.”

“That's okay. I am too. Text me anyway.”

“Even if I'm asking you out for a coffee? So we can talk? Really talk?”

“Date and time, I'll be there.” Buck smiled softly at him as he opened the door to leave. “I'll get your order right this time.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sweet Treat

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You bake one of your favourite fall treats for your coworkers but one of them takes it to mean more than it does.

Characters: Tony Stark

Note: this is the fourth of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The leaves feel more vibrant as you walk along the autumnal street. Clusters sit at the base of street poles and the brisk wind nips at your cheek and nose. You tuck your chin into your woolly scarf and hug the container of treats closer. 

You stifle a yawn. Your exhaustion is well worth the output. You spent most of the night baking. It’s a hobby for you and now that you have your first steady job, you have the funds and the space to do it. And as the newbie in the office, it felt right to add a bit of warmth to the office culture. 

To be honest, you’re trying to fit in. Since you started your desk job, you’ve felt that pressure. It’s all new to you and you feel like every day is a learning experience. Everyone else seems so settled and sure. It’s not like a retail gig where you’re all just trying to get through another day. 

As you get to the front door of the building, your met with a familiar face. Rhodey flicks two fingers in a half-wave and drawls out ‘morning’ as he opens the door for you. You thank him and enter the lobby. 

He trails you along the polished tile and you both stop before the metallic doors of the elevator. He taps the button as you tap one heel impatiently. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. 

“What’s all that?” He asks. 

“Oh, it’s a surprise.” 

“A surprise?” He wonders. 

He’s always nice. He interviewed you and helped you on your first day. He’s too busy for you to run into each other very much, but he’s always pleasant. 

“Yes, you have to wait until you get upstairs to find out.” 

“Oh, maybe I should see if I can beat the elevator,” he kids and looks at the door to the stairs. You chuckle. The doors ahead of you slide apart. “Ah, nevermind, seems like fate is on my side.” 

He gestures you in ahead of him. The ascent is smooth enough. You’re never a fan of the rising sensation that makes you woozy. You step off thankfully, clutching the container firmly to your stomach. 

“Well, I should find my desk,” you say. 

“Hey wait, what about the surprise?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah, fine,” you face him and slide your arm under the container. You peel the corner of the lid back with your other hand and smile, “apple pastries. Hope you like ‘em.” 

“Homemade?” He asks as he reaches for one. 

“Sure are,” you chime. “I have napkins in my bag but my hands are kinda full.” 

“Nah, I don’t mind a mess,” he sniffs the dessert, “think this will go well with my coffee.” 

“Let me know if you like it,” you smile. 

“Oh, you will know. I might just try to sneak a second,” he says and turns to head off towards the executive offices. 

You shut the container and wade through the desks to your own. You put the container down and strip off the layers of your scarf, gloves, hat, and coat. You finally get yourself set as Marissa shows up. 

“Do you smell cinnamon?” She asks as she wiggles her nose and plunks her insulated cup down. 

“Yes, I do,” you take the lid off and gesture to the container. “Want one?” 

“Hm, apple?” She asks and you nod. “What’s this all about?” 

“I don’t know. I made them so I thought I’d share.” 

“Huh, that’s sweet,” she remarks dryly as you offer her a napkin. “Enjoy that optimism while it lasts.” 

Your cheek twitches. You notice that about the people here. Even if something good happens, they’re suspicious about it. They want to know why or the expect something horrible to follow. 

As more people shuffle in, you offer them a pastry. Everyone seems to like them so far. Yet, you still have lots to go around. 

You get up and Marissa glances over, “any more?” 

“Well, yeah, I was going to go offer them to the managers.” 

“Oh,” she darts her eyes way. “Good luck.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing, just... interrupting for a pastry... kinda... non-productive.” 

“Oh, right,” you pout, “maybe I could just leave them in the breakroom.” 

“Probably a better idea.” 

You’re disappointed. You know the execs rarely go that far. Still, she’s right and she would know better than you. 

You take the container and pass between the other desk. As you pass the hallway to the exec spaces, you nearly collide with someone else. He barely seems to notice until you squeak and save the desserts from spilling. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you eke out as the man struts by only to scuff to a halt.  

He turns back to you, a pinch between his brows and a tick in his cheek. You clamp your mouth shut as his dark eyes penetrate you. It’s him, Mr. Stark, the big boss. You’ve never seen him this close-up. You panic and look around as a hush falls across the office. 

“Would you like one?” You ask out of sheer helplessness. You offer up the container and his eyes slowly descend. His expression doesn’t change. 

To your surprise, he steps closer. He reaches into the container and takes one of the pastries. He examines it then turns away without a word. You stare after him in fear of your livelihood. 

You wait until he’s gone and scurry into the breakroom. You put the container on the counter and catch your breath. Oh gosh. You just blew it, didn’t you? Over something as stupid as desserts. You shouldn’t be handing out treats like Santa Claus, you should be working! 

You put your head down and march out. You go directly back to your desk and sit. You feel eyes on you. Marissa wheels closer. “Told you. Don’t bother the big guys.” 

🍏

The windows are dark as you finally log off. It’s no coincidence that you’re the only one left in the office. It might be futile but you hope the extra work might save you from the fallout of your unfortunate run-in earlier. 

You cross the office floor and dip into the breakroom. You claim the empty container from the counter. You’re happy that your hard work didn’t go to waste, at least. 

You return to your desk and snap the lid on. You gather up your coat and pull on your hat and scarf, leaving your gloves in your pocket. You pack up your bag and sling it on your arm, clutching the container against your hip.  

You push your chair in and turn. You nearly shriek, instead swallowing it to a squeal, as you find someone else standing across the space. You put your hand to your chest and gasp. 

“Sorry, sir, I didn’t hear you,” you gulp. It’s Mr. Stark. Great, you don’t think you’ve done enough to stop the inevitable. 

He comes closer, sliding his hands into his pockets as he approaches. He’s silent as he measures you with a long gaze. The silver at his temples twinkles against the darker strands. He stops at the corner of your desk. 

“You all out?” He nods to the container. 

You flinch, “um, yes, sir.” 

“Too bad. Tasty,” he says. “And that little heart in the pastry... nice touch.” 

“Oh,” you’re surprised by his praise, expecting a full remonstrance. “Thank you. I... I just thought it was cute but, er, sorry, I don’t mean to chatter. I should go.” 

“Yeah, me too,” he says, “another late night.” He clucks and glances around the empty office. “You know, that really... made my day. Not much to look forward around here.” 

Your brows rise and you smile, unsure how to respond. 

“Feel like I owe ya more than a thanks,” his forehead lines as he tilts his head, “and I gotta grab something to eat,” he checks his watch and sighs, “all my meetings went long so could I pay you back?” 

“Uh, sir,” you wonder. 

“You like shawarma?” He intonses. 

“Shawarma?” You repeat, surprised. 

“I know, I know, a guy like me is supposed to live off caviar and fine steaks. You ever just get the craving for something....” he pauses and pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Nasty?” 

You chuckle, “um, sure. I sometimes order fast food.” 

“So? Unless...” he hesitates, “you’re busy? Looks like you’re running behind too.” 

“No, sir, that’s very generous. Um, I... yeah, I could... I could go for shawarma,” you agree, relief flowing over you. You don’t think he’s going to fire you unless it’s a trick. 

“Great, let me just grab my jacket.” 

🍏

Dinner is delicious, though a bit awkward. Your guilt isn’t lessened as Mr. Stark insists on paying for it. You tell him you can handle it but you don’t argue that much. He’s still your boss. 

You pull on your jacket as you leave the restaurant. He holds the door for you. You’re already mentally preparing to tuck into bed. 

“That was nice. If I don’t have some business lunch or dinner, I usually eat alone,” he scoffs as he comes up beside you. 

“Oh? Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” 

“Just as much as that special treat you made me,” he says. 

“Uh, yeah, well, I like baking--” 

“You know, no one ever offers me stuff like that. They all just get quiet when they see me. Can’t even look at me,” he grumbles. “But you smiled at me.” 

“I’m sorry, sir, that’s... they’re just intimidated, I’m sure. Because you’re so smart,” you say. 

“What about you? You’re not?” He asks as you stop next to his sleek red car. 

“No, I am,” you admit. “I’m the newest person in the office, everyone intimidates me.” 

He looks at you long and hard, “really?” 

“Well, yeah, I’m still learning how to do everything.” 

“Who?” He asks. 

“Who?” 

“Who’s being mean?” He growls. 

“What? No, sir. It’s not—no one’s mean. I didn’t say that.” 

“Because if someone’s messing with you, I’ll happily have a special meeting with them,” his expression darkens. 

“No one,” you avow. “Sorry, I must’ve said it the wrong way.” 

“You did nothing wrong,” he counters. 

“Right, er...” you peer over your shoulder, “I should go catch a bus--” 

“A bus?” He echoes. 

“Sure, it’s almost nine o’clock,” you look at your fitbit. 

“My car’s right here, get in,” he says. 

It’s a command and you’ve pressed your luck far enough. You nod and thank him as he opens the door. You sit in the low seat and hug your bag atop the empty container. He shuts you in and strolls around to the other side. 

As he sits in front of the steering wheel, his cologne clogs your nose. It’s definitely expensive. You squirm in the seat. You’re tired and a bit impatient to be home. You still have to go to the office early tomorrow. 

“Well, thanks for the ride,” you stifle a yawn and rub your eyes instead. 

“Lease I can do,” he says. “Where do ya live, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart? The epithet tweaks your ear but you try not react. You worked in retail, a lot of men love that word. You give him your address. 

“Really? All the way over there?” He asks. “Girl like you shouldn’t be done there,” he tuts. 

“It’s not that bad,” you assure him. 

You drag your hand up your cheek, trying to wake yourself up. You’re exhausted. You’re so used to the 9-5 that you’re ready to flop into bed. 

You zone out at the engine hums. The soft motion of the turns lulls you and it isn’t until you’re halfway in the other direction to your apartment that your instinct kicks in. You sit up and look around. 

“Where are you going?” You ask in a panic. 

“I live closer, sweetheart. You can crash at mine,” he says. 

“Your-- no, Mr. Stark, I can’t do that. If you don’t want to drive me, I can get an uber.” You pull on the zipper of your purse and he hits the brakes. You lurch forward as he reaches over and clasps onto your hand. 

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. 

“Mr. Stark?” You babble. “What’s going on?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Why won’t you take me home?” 

He’s quiet. His eyes fall to his hand and he lets you go. He grips the wheel again but doesn’t go. He sighs and tilts his head back. 

“You gave me that pastry. With the little heart.” 

“I gave them to everyone--” 

“No, but you gave one to me.” He insists. 

“Sir,” you sniff. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. Please don’t fire me.” 

“Fire you--” He turns to look at you, “no, no, no.” 

He fixes his gaze straight ahead and presses on the gas again. He rolls forward and turns down another street. You unzip your purse and once more, he stomps on the brake. You lurch forward and the seat belt digs into your chest as your bag falls onto your feet. 

“Don’t touch that phone,” he snarls. 

“Sir,” you sit back, rubbing where the belt bit into you, “sorry.” 

“It’s just... I can’t see where I’m going with the glare,” he exhales shakily. 

“Okay,” you whimper. 

He drives on. You don’t move. Your heart is racing. You don’t understand what’s going on. 

He enters the nicer neighbourhoods. Where the houses have that modern boxy feel, tall glass windows for walls, and iron gates around trimmed hedges. Their residents spends as much time there as their vacation homes on the next continent. 

He hits a button and steers toward one of the gates as it slides open on a motor. He rolls through as you sink into yourself. This must be his house. You’re still spinning with the suddenness of it all. From the office to dinner to this. One moment stoic and silent, the next smiling and kind, and now... 

As you look at him, his eyes are so dark that the swallow the glow from the dash and the security lights mounted on the house. He shifts into park and kills the engine. You twiddle your fingers and watch him. He reaches over and presses the button on your seat belt. 

You wince and look away as he trails his touch up your arm and to your shoulder. He walks his fingers up over your collar and along you neck. He traces the curve of your jaw as you shiver. 

“You gave me something sweet, baby,” he grabs your chin and makes you look at him again. “I just wanna return the favour.”  

He leans across the space between your seats and pushes his lips to yours. You murmur and grab onto his wrist. You feel the tendons tense as he squeezes you tighter. His mouth parts from yours and he presses his forehead to yours. You’re locked in his hold, paralysed.  

He hums and licks his lips, “You taste just as good.” 

[dykedvonte]

One of my mutuals opinions is the "bro code" thing, that Curly is one of those guys who wouldn't care about the victim because the perpetrator is his friend and I'm really banging my head on the wall like that other anon. I've only played through the game once but Curly's behaviour/reactions etc read completely different from the "bro code" thing and I have to wonder if my mutual and I even played the same game.. like the constant digs at him from Jimmy, his body language in his face reveal and so on like you mentioned in your post. While this game is a little different obviously, it kind of reminded of a point in Alice Madness Returns that makes it very clear that Alice's pain blinded her to the abuse of the other children and her failure to act earlier because of it. Curly is guilty of a similar inaction but it doesn't change the fact he was a victim of Jimmy too. I don't think I can look at it any other way because both of these games have really stuck with me.

I genuinely think it really is the idea that people want a simple easy to blame problem and the idea that the only relatable victims of abuse are those that "surpass" it or do a lot to help others. When it comes to victims, especially those that don't fit the typical demographics, who either accidently perpetuate it, enable it or aren't ideal in some way shape or form, people jump to ignore what they went through as it's easier than dealing with those conflicting sentiments.

The bro-code conversation in Mouthwashing stems from a concept I generally dislike that there had to be something about Curly that made him meet or keep being friends with someone like Jimmy. I think people genuinely underestimate how many like decent and good people just know an asshole or are friends with someone who is really bad outside of their view/established dynamics. The game makes it clear none of the inaction against Jimmy is because of a lack of care, it is a lack of understanding from the privaleged postions they have as men to not have to worry about what Anya does/went through and the type of extremes men like Jimmy will go through to cover it up. They are all too preoccupied in their own strifes.

Another thing I see being oversaturated the idea that you have to be a freak, misanthrope or have a disorder to do the thing Jimmy does. The game is an escalation, it's a spiral that I don't see people comment on that Jimmy was not likely having the mood swings and episodes of rage/frustration we were seeing in the game. This is after they all start experiencing the worst moments in their lives that he got THAT openly bad. Of course, this is just my interpretation but much like in real life, people that go to extremes like that usually live mundane lives. It's a pressure cooker affect to where the stress made them pop. It's self inflicted but still the case.

I really think people need to be more willing to acknowledge that not everything needs to be an extreme or in black and white or easy to understand. It doesn't need to be happy or have an answer or solution, especially in the cases where the abused sadly helps perpetuate what they experience. It's not he should've known better from experience or shouldn't he have known what could've happened because victims tend to not like to think in matters of the worst. Not to mention, especially in cases of abuse where it feels so personally directed that you don't expect to happen to someone else.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I interpreted the "adaptation from the manga" thing to imply that they'll animate the 3 Yuus (like you said) but my partner proposed smth to me that raised my concerns... what if they only animate Yuuka? or like- default to a female Yuu? I could see that bc it would be probably easier for them to have only one protagonist.

don't get me wrong I like Yuuka and I know a lot of TWST fans are women but since the studio involved is apparently known for shojos I'm scared they'll make it seem like the story is romantic/the game is an otome... Which I mean- we do have SOME fanservice stuff but it's definitely not a romance story. That's why I'm scared 😭 if they do go that path... I much rather prefer the disconnection (?) of having 3 different Yuus than the possibility of this...

Also I'm just 🥲 I'm scared ppl will see that and say ahhh So Yuu has always been a woman!! Because as a trans guy, one thing that rlly made me feel valid in a way was seeing that in the game Yuu has no gender at all... I don't go by they/them but I'd much rather be referred as that than to be misgendered. It's a small thing but it's such an important detail for me (the fact that Yuu is gender neutral/can be whatever u want them to be) that it being erased in the anime would make me pretty sad... even more if ppl take the anime as "confirmation" of Yuu's gender, which it wouldn't be regardless if they end up giving us a girl OR guy Yuu- it would just be another Yuu interpretation different from the game.

But yeah, personal stuff aside, I'm more scared by the possibility of them making it seem like it's a romance story 😭 or ppl calling TWST an otome... which I mean... some people already have that misconception, even some fans...

[Referencing this post and this news!]

I definitely think they're probably leaning towards a new Yuu every season; otherwise, there would be a very uneven distribution of screen time for one Yuu over the others, and that leads into the problem of one Yuu being "more" canon than the rest. Yes, it will probably be easier logistically speaking to keep the same Yuu for the entire anime--but I also said the same thing when we only had the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, and look what happened with that. We ended up getting Yuuka and Yuuta following Yuuken, regardless of the logistical inconvenience of it all. I think if the anime intended to have a singular Yuu to follow for the main story, they would have chosen to adapt the light novel (which has Yuuya across multiple volumes) instead of the manga. The conscious decision to adapt the manga (with changing Yuus) says something to me. So really, I don't think we have to worry about one "kind" of Yuu dominating the anime. I took a look at the portfolios of the two studios collaborating for the Twst anime and didn't see a ton of shoujo myself. There was definitely a handful of them, but overall there was a spread of genres. I think Yumeta Company (one of the studios) has Tokyo Mew Mew New under its belt, which is probably one of its better-known works and maybe that's where the "they're known for doing shoujo" allegations are coming from? Don't quote me on that, though. I'm not someone who closely follows anime studios.

I would, however, like to point out that we shouldn't put all our stock into the studios behind the anime. Yes, they are obviously animating the project and thus have an influence on how the final product is. However, there are tons of other people involved (like the script writer) that will dictate how the anime looks and feels. (In fact, the script writer for the Twst anime, Kato Yoichi, is not known for writing shoujo.) I highly doubt all the staff involved at every possible level of production are conspiring to make Twst a genre it's not. (Related: I blame socialization for this, but it's a little sad that most of us by default think one woman + a bunch of men in a cast must be romantic.)

Now, to your main point. I understand the initial fear of people misunderstanding Twst as a dating sim/otome from how it is presented. Really, I do. I also understand the frustration that comes with people claiming Yuu's identity or gender or what have you is "confirmed". But to that, I ask you: so what? And I don't mean that in a "your feelings aren't valid" way (because your feelings are very valid!) I mean in like... Do these misconceptions others have truly impact your own enjoyment? Do the people believing in these falsehoods erase what you know is the truth? I would wager it doesn't. There has been and always will be those who see Twst or interpret Yuu as something they are not. Lots of us (myself included) thought Twst was an otome game when they first heard of its concept. People claimed Yuuken was the definitive Yuu when the first chapter of the manga dropped. That's fandom, especially the larger they get. If we fixate on those sore spots, it will ultimately make us unhappy because there will never be an end to misunderstandings. I would advise that you try and detach from those worries and just focus on having your own fun in the fandom rather than worrying about how others are consuming or reacting to Twst. Yes, we want Twst, a franchise we've seriously been invested in and love, to be seen a certain way--but I don't think that should come at the cost of your enjoyment. Fandom is meant to be fun, and we don't want to make ourselves miserable by stressing over the "what ifs", you know? Please focus on yourself!!

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year special <> you do too much pt 2

word count: 2.8k TW: anxiety, hurt, angst, comfort, mentions of hit the road trauma italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

She supposed she should've expected tour to be difficult. The first couple legs of their An Ode tour were fine, Cyana had gone in wide-eyed and immensely happy to be sharing the stage with her found family. She liked how she was able to hear the cheers of their fans every night and how it lingered even after the concert. She was still nervous about returning to LA for their North American leg, but Joshua had promised he'd make it okay. Cyana always had a strong love for travelling, and was glad she could do it while performing.

Everything started to go sideways moments before landing in Jakarta.

"1-10, Cyana?" Jun touched her shoulder gently to catch her attention. They were waiting at the airport for the others to get through security.

She blinked. "7." It was a system she had started with the boys, finding that asking for a number was easier than asking how their condition was. It was easier for them to answer to, if the pain was rated on a scale. She had deemed anything lower than a 4 to be dangerous and a cause of worry. So far nobody had reported anything lower than 6. Thank god. "What about you?" She asked back. She had noticed the heavy eye bags despite Jun covering his face with a hat.

The boy shrugged. "7 too. Just tired."

She turned, about to tap Dino and ask him the same question, when Wonwoo stood up, startling them all. He had been napping and his sudden movement was unexpected.

"What's going on?" Jun asked, grabbing Wonwoo's elbow to steady the boy.

"They're here." Wonwoo nodded to the rest of the group, who had finished security and was approaching them. He nudged Dino awake with his foot. "Let's go. I need to crash on the plane."

Cyana grabbed her bag, grateful the staff had taken all their luggage. In her drowsy state, she would have a higher chance of forgetting her things than anything else. Shuffling to Seungcheol's side, she walked to match his pace. It was unusual that she could, most times Seungcheol walked too fast for her to keep up.

"Cheol? Number?" She asked, her eyes betraying her worry. Joshua looked over from Seungcheol's other side with as much worry as she felt.

Seungcheol seemed to struggle to even compute the question. "5." He mumbled, glancing at them both. "I'm fine."

Cyana's eyebrows furrowed. "That's low."

"Not a 4." Seungcheol countered. "Don't push it." The tone of his voice sounded more weak than stern.

Cyana could only look at Joshua, who shrugged. She remembered what he had told her just this morning, when she complained to him she just wanted to strap Seungcheol down so that he could rest.

"You can't help people who don't want to be helped." He had told her, although he looked just as distraught. "Coups needs to want to help himself first. Before we can do anything."

Now, looking at the boy in question, she felt eerily as if he wasn't there at all, like some shell of their leader was the one walking next to them instead.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Cyana pleaded with Jeonghan, who looked mildly bemused under his tired state. "All Mingyu and Hoshi does is snore."

That pulled a laugh out of him. Jeonghan was another member on Cyana's worry radar, and if Mingyu and Hoshi's snoring could gain her a ticket into keeping an eye on Jeonghan, she would take it.

"Okay." Jeonghan relented, moving over to let her into his hotel room. "But just tonight. Don't get too comfortable." He gave her a teasing smile. "You might get too attached."

Cyana frowned. "Big headed much?"

She was glad to see him laugh. She knew how much his body had been aching during this tour. Every time she looked over after a song and saw a brief look of pain flash across his face, she felt a heavy pang in her stomach. On any other circumstance she would've quipped that it was because he was old. But that was the exact reason why it scared her so much: Seungcheol and Jeonghan were getting old and so were their bodies. She wished desperately that they could be young forever.

Sliding into bed, she heard Jeonghan shuffle to turn off the lights before joining, tugging the blanket away from her with a cheeky giggle. Pulling back equally hard, they finally settled in a standstill as they both stared up at the ceiling.

"Number?" Jeonghan whispered into the dark.

"8." There had been no concert today. Cyana felt fine. "Less tired. You?"

"Mentally I'm at a 9. But physically, more like a 6." He admitted.

"Sit out of the next concert, please." Cyana pleaded into the darkness. It helped that neither of them could see each others faces. It was in darkness where it was easiest to talk.

She could hear him breathe as he thought. "I want to perform. For Carats."

"They'll be sad that you're not there, sure." Cyana agreed. "But they'll be even more upset if you die."

Jeonghan laughed. "Oh, our little pessimist." He cooed good naturally. "I'm not going to die."

"It feels like you might." She admitted out loud for the first time. "Every time you take off your shirt for taping it's like you're withering away."

There was silence, and Cyana started to fear she may have overstepped.

"You worry too much." Jeonghan finally said. "If it gets too much before our concert tomorrow, I'll sit out. Promise."

She nodded, although he couldn't see it. "Good. If only Cheol was as cooperative as you."

"You've got his stubbornness, that's for sure." Jeonghan let out a loud sigh. "He's not doing well."

"I've noticed." Cyana agreed. "It's kinda hard not to."

"His mind's not doing well." Jeonghan corrected himself after a pause. "I'm been trying to get him to take a break. See a doctor. Admit he's going a little crazy. He-" Jeonghan's voice cracked. "You know he scrolls through SNS like a ritual? He'll just sit there and read comments. I can always tell when he reaches a particularly cruel one cause he just sits there."

"He hasn't been talking much during filming either." Cyana recalled. "He used to like filming for Going."

"Dieting too." Jeonghan added. "Even though I told him he's fine the way he is."

"He told Hoshi he doesn't see himself being an idol after his contract ends."

Jeonghan froze, and Cyana could tell by the way his arm suddenly stiffened from next to her. He hadn't known.

"I thought he would've told you." She added lamely, feeling like she had definitely said something wrong.

"I guess not." Jeonghan sighed after awhile. "We're a mess, Nana. You joined at a bad time."

Cyana hummed, rolling over to lean her head against his. "That's okay. Maybe it was just meant to be. I'll fix it. I'll fix him."

Jeonghan wrapped an arm around her. "I like that idea actually. You and us all being meant to be."

It was only because she was listening too hard, so concentrated, that she could tell exactly what moment Jeonghan fell asleep, his arm still around her. She told herself to sleep too, she would need all the energy she had if she wanted to help Seungcheol and perform tomorrow.

"We go on in twenty minutes!" One of the event coordinators called out towards the members who had all gathered in the green room. Cyana adjusted her stage outfit, tilting her head up to give her makeup artist easier access. Her eyes flitted around the room as she mentally counted her members. She knew it was the leader's job and she had no business stepping in for a weary Seungcheol as the youngest, but she felt as if she had to. She was easily the most well rested out of them all.

"Number?" She mouthed at Mingyu, who she briefly caught eye contact with.

He merely flashed back an ok sign and a bright smile. She knew he was telling the truth. If there was one thing Seungcheol enforced the most it was their strict 'no lies' policy.

The man in question sat bleary-eyed on the couch, seemingly out of it.

"Are we almost finished?" Cyana mumbled to her makeup artist, who was busy touching up her lips. "I need to go speak to Cheol."

She shook her head. "Not yet."

Cyana sighed as Jeonghan approached her, wincing as he rolled his shoulders. "I think I'm heading out." He leaned down to whisper into her ear.

Her eyes widened. "Really? Good." She eyed his shoulder warily. "Does it hurt a lot?" She asked.

He nodded. "I can barely remember our choreo. Figured I would do better not embarrassing myself onstage tonight."

She let out a sad laugh, stopping quickly when her makeup artist scolded her for moving. "Is Cheol going too?" She wondered hopefully.

Jeonghan shrugged before wincing at the movement. "He hasn't said anything. I'm gonna go to the car before I pass out." He offered weakly, waving towards the staff who was waiting for him at the exit. "Have fun. Be safe." He reminded her, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head before leaving.

She waited impatiently for her makeup artist to finish. Hoshi found her next, murmuring into her ear about position changes they needed to make without Jeonghan here.

"Scratch that and make us 12." She whispered back, moving once she got a green light from her makeup artist. "Cheol's not performing tonight."

Hoshi looked at her, surprised. "He finally agreed?"

Cyana shook her head. "I'll convince him."

He scoffed. "Good luck with that. We've all been trying since last week."

It felt like the longest twenty minutes Cyana had ever experienced.

"Go back to the hotel, Cheol." She begged, fixing his hair so it wouldn't fall into his eyes.

"I'm fine." He insisted again, turning his head away from her. The stubborn piece of hair fell back where it was before.

They'd been at this for hours, it felt like. She was blindly aware of the amount of eyes that were on them, watching who'd win the mental battle.

"Number?" She asked, hoping he'd give her the truth this time.

"7."

She couldn't help but scoff. "You're lying again. We said no lying about the number system."

He finally looked up from the ground to shoot her a glare. "I'm not lying."

"I don't want to fight, Cheol." She sighed. "We're worried. You're not doing okay."

His shoulders dropped as he looked away again. "I can do this concert."

"Hannie oppa's going home." She offered, knowing it'd make him feel better not to be the only one dropping out. It was almost silly, his pride and responsibility.

He looked at her with surprise before quickly averting his eyes again. "Jeonghan's leaving?"

"He's in the car waiting for you. His shoulders aren't feeling well." Cyana grabbed his hand and tried to pull him off the couch. "Please." She begged again.

Resigned, Seungcheol stood up, wavering as he called their manager over with a feeble wave. They both stared at him, watching as he tried to form words into sentences.

"I think-" He broke off, before picking up again. "I think I need a break."

It was like a dam cracked open. Cyana let out a harsh sigh of relief as she watched their manager take Seungcheol away, presumably into the car with Jeonghan and back to the hotel.

"He'll be okay." Minghao joined to stand next to her. He took her hand, gently leading her towards the stage entrance. "Game face on, Yue Liang. We can worry later."

She nodded, knowing he was right. They were resting and safe and that was all that mattered. She'd be back to them in a couple hours anyways.

Cyana cracked open the door to Seungcheol's room as quietly as possible. She knew he was awake, the lights were on despite it being nearly 3AM. The concert had gone smoothly despite the missing members and she knew Seungcheol would appreciate an update.

"Cheolie?" She called into the room, walking in and see the leader standing on the balcony. She slid open the balcony door and stepped out to join him.

He turned around at the sound of the door opening immediately, frowning and opening his mouth to scold her when he saw how little she was wearing.

"Stop." Cyana held a hand up before he could go on his rant.

"You should be wearing a jacket." He said either way. "You'll catch a cold."

"I'm okay." She moved to stand next to him and looked out at the city landscape. "Everything went really well today. Carats had fun."

She received back nothing but silence. Still, she continued. "DK led the skit and he roped Vernon in with him. They somehow got me involved too. I was nervous, but it ended up being lots of fun." She paused to glance up at Seungcheol, who had his eyes trained on the night sky. "I went and said hi to Jeonghan before coming here. He's okay. Worried about you. We all are."

She watched as his eyes seemed to quiver and glisten with forming tears.

"Minghao told me it was just part of the job, going onstage and pretending like everything wasn't just chaos. It was hard. I don't know how any of you do it. Vernon told me it's not like America, where we can just take a break whenever we wanted to and have people understand." She stopped talking again, wishing he'd say something. It was odd for her to be the one talking the most.

"I think people would understand though. You've all worked so hard and people can see it. You should've heard how loud they were cheering you and Jeonghan's names today. It was like you guys were there anyways." She smiled softly at the memory. "We'll be here for a long time, Cheol. You can step back for a little while."

There was a pause as a particularly strong gust of wind passed them, diverting both their attentions.

"I think-" His voice was quiet but she could hear him. "I think I need a break." He echoed the same words he had said hours ago. "I talked to manager-hyung and-" His voice broke. "he said it was okay. If I stopped for a bit."

Cyana nodded. "We'll be okay without you for awhile, Cheol. You don't need to carry so much on your back. There's 14 of us for a reason, we can all take a little bit of the burden."

He was still staring off into the night sky, giving no sign he had really heard her. "It just felt like if I stopped even for one second, the world might spin too fast and lose me." He continued. "Like I needed to be there every moment."

Cyana could relate to the feeling. "I know." She had the same problem. "Someone once told me it's okay to step off the world for a little bit. To stop chasing the cycle and to breathe."

"It spins too fast." He whispered, finally looking at her. She felt a pang in her chest when she noticed there were tears tracking silently down his face. "The world spins too fast."

Cyana nodded ruefully. "Yeah, sometimes it does that." She tried to smile, reaching up to wipe his tears away with her sleeve. "Don't cry, Cheol."

He sniffed, looking down at her and giving a weak smile back. "We've been doing a lot of that recently, huh."

She laughed, and he watched her throw her head back as the sound echoed into the night. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. "It's okay." She said, coming back to him. "Crying is good sometimes."

"You're good at this." He mused. "Comforting people. Maybe you should replace Jeonghan as SEVENTEEN's therapist. Surely you'd do much better. He usually just listens and then starts scolding."

She shook her head. "That's okay. Feelings still make me iffy." Shivering suddenly as another gust of wind blew past, she patted Seungcheol awkwardly on the back. "Good talk. You're okay now, right? It's cold."

He let out a breathy laugh. "I'm better now. Go inside, I'll be in in a moment." He turned back to look out at the city's nightlife.

Cyana moved back into the hotel room, shivering as she grabbed one of his spare zip-ups for the couch and pulled it on. Pulling out her phone, she selected her conversation with Jeonghan, typing out a text.

me: seungcheol, fixed!

She smiled, amused when she saw him immediately start typing back.

hannie: you're the best.

Liking the message, she was about to swipe out and peruse the ramen packets Seungcheol had laid out on the coffee table when another text popped up on her screen.

dino: we're in hoshi's room. got ramen.

Sending Dino a silent thank you, she called back into the room as she opened the door to leave. "I'm going to Hoshi's!" She knew Seungcheol would need his silence.

A quiet grunt of acknowledge came from the balcony as she closed the door behind her.

She knew Seungcheol was a long way from being completely fixed and fine again. She knew Jeonghan's body was still a long way from healthy. She knew they still had months of tour left over without the two. Yet, just like she had told Seungcheol, the world would keep spinning, and Seventeen would come back stronger in 2020 then ever before.

a/n: more angst for you guys (..◜ᴗ◝..) we're officially kicking off into hit the road era!

[danika-redgrave124]

A Witchy Shopping Day

The bustling streets of the local market were alive with the chatter of merchants, the clinking of wares, and the enticing aroma of fresh pastries. Among the throng of shoppers were Yuu and Grim, flanked by Cerezo—a fully-fledged Umbra Witch whose very presence seemed to radiate sophistication—and Vil, who naturally drew the gazes of admirers like a magnet. Behind them, trudging dutifully under the weight of numerous shopping bags, were Ace, Deuce, and Epel.

"I don’t see why we had to be the ones carrying all this," Ace griped, shifting a large bag of potions and fabrics to his other hand. "Seriously, what do witches even do with this much stuff? Open a boutique?"

"Quit whining, Ace," Epel muttered, barely breaking a sweat under the weight of an ornate vase and several spellbooks. "This is nothing compared to haulin’ apples back home. You sound like a twig about to snap."

Deuce, on the other hand, walked with practiced ease, balancing several bags on his arms. "It’s not so bad. I used to carry groceries for my mom all the time. You just need to pace yourself."

"Oh, of course you’re fine with this," Ace groaned. "But my arms feel like they’re gonna fall off!"

"Perhaps if you spent less time complaining and more time moving, you’d find it easier," Vil interjected, glancing back at the trio with his signature air of unimpressed authority. "If you drop so much as a single bag, spud, I’ll ensure you don’t see the end of my next lecture."

Ace grumbled something under his breath, but the look Vil shot him quickly silenced any further complaints.

Ahead of the group, Yuu and Grim were inspecting a collection of enchanted trinkets laid out on a merchant's stall. Grim's eyes glimmered with excitement as he pointed to a jeweled charm. "Ooh, Yuu! Look at this one! It’s all shiny! Can we get it?!"

"Grim, focus," Yuu replied with a patient sigh, holding up a shimmering black brooch in the shape of a crescent moon. "We’re supposed to be looking for practical items, not things that catch your eye."

"Well, I think this one looks very practical," Cerezo remarked smoothly, his voice rich and lilting like a dark melody. He picked up the brooch and held it to Yuu’s chest, tilting his head appraisingly. "See? It complements your aura perfectly."

Yuu flushed slightly, brushing the brooch aside. "Cerezo, we’re not here for accessories."

"Ah, but what is an Umbra Witch without their style?" Cerezo purred, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I insist you take it. Consider it a gift from me to you."

Behind them, Vil let out a soft hum of approval. "Cerezo has a point. Presentation is everything. Perhaps I should assist in curating your wardrobe, Yuu."

Yuu groaned quietly, muttering, "Not you too..."

Meanwhile, Ace, Deuce, and Epel continued their trek behind the group, with Ace nearly tripping over his own feet as they stopped at yet another stall.

"Are we seriously stopping again?" Ace complained. "At this rate, I’m gonna need a stretcher to get back to campus!"

"Shush," Epel said, adjusting the bags on his shoulders. "If you keep whining, Rook’s probably gonna pop outta nowhere and make you carry his bags, too."

As if on cue, Rook emerged from the shadows nearby, his voice a theatrical whisper. "Ah, mon brave camarades! I see you toil under the weight of duty, such noble perseverance! Truly, a sight to behold!"

Ace jumped, nearly dropping his bags. "Gah! Rook! Could you not sneak up on people like that?!"

"Ah, but I must remain vigilant," Rook replied, his tone playful but his gaze sharp as it flicked to Vil. "Where beauty walks, danger often follows. I cannot allow my Roi du Poison to come to harm."

Vil waved him off with a sigh. "Your dramatics are unnecessary, Rook. Focus on blending in rather than drawing attention."

As the shopping continued, Cerezo paused, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. He turned to Yuu, lowering his voice so only they could hear. "By the way, I’ve secured something quite special from your dear headmaster."

Yuu raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What did you do?"

"Persuasion," Cerezo said with an elegant shrug. "Let’s just say Crowley and I had a... productive discussion. I took his card."

"You didn’t threaten him, did you?" Yuu asked, though the answer was obvious.

"Lightly," Cerezo replied with a wink. "Nothing he couldn’t handle."

Grim snickered. "Finally! Someone who doesn’t let that featherbrain off the hook!"

By the time they reached their final stop—a small café to rest—the three bag carriers slumped into their chairs, groaning in unison.

"I can’t feel my arms," Ace whined, rubbing his shoulders.

"You’ll survive," Vil said coolly, taking a sip of his tea.

Cerezo, ever the picture of poise, leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. "Well, this has been a most delightful outing. Don’t you agree, Yuu?"

Yuu gave him a flat look. "Delightful for you, maybe."

Grim, munching on a pastry, chimed in, "Yeah, but we got food outta it, so I’m not complaining!"

Ace groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never. Again."

Cerezo belongs to @fungifanart

[a-bad-case-of-the-stephs]

@duskdog

Hiiii! Been meaning to respond to this because you raised some really interesting ideas, sorry that it’s taken me a hot sec.

The crazy part is (like a lot of things about Steph) we get conflicting information about how Bruce sees Steph in relation to her father.

Steph consistently worries Batman is judging her by her fathers actions when she’s sanctioned at Spoiler. She identifies it as a potential reason the rest of the team doesn’t trust her.

This tracks with how Steph is shown to have a pattern of feeling responsible for the Cluemasters actions (which as I’ve mentioned before I see as an extension of her helplessness to protect herself and her mother from him during her childhood).

She identifies on multiple occasions that her choice to be the Spoiler is rooted in the misgivings of her father. Clear, easy example of this mindset is when she states because her dad is an asshole, she “has a lot to make up for” (Robin 80 Page Giant). She finds herself responsible in some part for his actions.

So it makes a lot of sense that Stephanie keeps asssuming other people are holding her to this same standard, judging her based off of her fathers criminal ways.

However, this assumption is not really substantiated.

I can’t think of a time Batman says or thinks anything which implies he gives a fuck who her dad is, besides when they first meet assuming she’s working with the Cluemaster instead of against him. (I’m not perfect however and I Might have missed one)

That is, until… Bruce Wayne: The Road Home Batgirl (🎉I love talking about BWTRHB!!!!! The worlds shittiest acronym!!!🎉)

After his little assessment and convo with Steph, Bruce tells Alfred that Stephanie and Wendy “need watching”, as their dads were both “criminals”.

This train of thought comes out of nowhere. As already stated, there’s very little evidence that Batman cared much that her dad was a criminal before this point.

Additionally, half his goddamn team has criminal fathers/mothers, ranging from mob bosses to goons to cult assassins to international terrorists. What is he even saying.

This is a total inconsistency. But I can see your view kinda accounts for that hypocrisy. If Bruce sees Cluemaster as a “lesser” threat and holds him in less esteem than the more formidable villain parents, it might explain why he seems to put this bonus emphasis on Stephs parentage. (Maybe he sees Stephs fathers criminal ways as more ‘mundane’ and therefore easier for her to slip into?)

I don’t think I’m totally sold on that idea, but it’s definitely interesting.

His statement feels just so out of nowhere (and again applies to half the people he works with) that I find it hard to believe this is a consistent concern of his.

Batman’s opinion on low level thugs varies (obviously by era and writer), but the versions of him I find most compelling are when he is shown to be sympathetic and willing to help people in shitty situations get out of them (even if they were doing crime beforehand). However it’s entirely possible (and probably equally substantiable) that he has unconscious and class based biases which might affect how he acts and treats certain characters.

I’m not nearly as intensely familiar with Jason’s character as I am Stephanie, so I’m low grade blanking on any good examples of how Bruce interacted w Jason’s background (besides his generally all consuming belief that Jason was on track to worse and worse crime and eventual death before Batman took him in).

Sorry this is pretty rambly, but I thought you brought up a Rly interesting point and i had some thoughts I wanted to add on

How Batman uses the idea of those "born for" vigilantism to justify working with Teen Vigilantes before and after the death of Jason Todd, and what it has to do with Stephanie Brown.

(DISCLAIMER: I'm not trying to condemn the concept of child/teen vigilantes in superhero comics, its a staple of the genre and dumb to condemn it like you would in the real world. I'm analyzing the times in which Bruce Wayne the character has questioned the concept himself, and the rationalizations he comes to about it)

By examining Bruce Waynes mindset immediately before, during, and after Jason Todd's deadly time as Robin, we can see how Batman rationalizes and justifies teenaged vigilantism.

When Dick Grayson as Robin is shot by the Joker, Batman essentially fires him from being Robin. Bruce entirely dismisses the concept of working with a "child" to fight crime. Batman seems to believe working with Dick as Robin is simply too dangerous.

Batman #408 (1940)

His Mindset at this point: Teenaged Vigilantism = Dangerous and Bad

But this, obviously, doesn't stick. It barely takes any time at all after this forBruce Wayne to take in Jason Todd and subsequently make him the second Robin.

Crime fighting with a 19 year old is too dangerous, but crime fighting with the 12 year old? Yeah, sure, why not!

There is an obvious contradiction, and a clear change in mindset.

In order to rationalize his choice to take in Jason Todd as Robin after firing Dick, Bruce Wayne must internally reendorse the concept of Teenaged Vigilantism. And he does so in a specific way:

Batman #410 (1940)

Mindset: If Jason Todd was not Robin, he would become a criminal and die

The dying part is specific as well. When confronted at first by Alfred, its more of an afterthought, something which would occur down the criminal "road" Jason was bound to end up on. But when he is later confronted by Dick, the idea that being Robin "saved" Jasons life takes center stage.

Batman #416 (1940)

It's no longer some distant crime related death Jason was on course for, it was an imminent death which Bruce was able to save him from.

Mindset: If Jason Todd was not Robin, his "self destructive energies" and lack of "self esteem" would have killed him.

This phrasing is SUPER interesting to me, because its not true in a very specific way.

1. Jason Todd wasn't really shown to have "Self destructive energies" before he became Robin. He was stealing to make a living, to stay alive. He never showcases a desire for "self destruction", unless you count his hitting Batman with a tire iron, and his interference in Ma Gunn’s heist. Which I don't.

2. It seems to imply Jason Todd might have died because of specifically "self destructive tendancies", which seems ascribes a small amount of passive potential suicidal ideation, which is also vastly unsubstantiated by anything we see from Jason before he becomes Robin. But you know who is a character who is deeply rooted in concepts of suicidal ideation? Batman. (I'm not going prove this point here, but this concept gets more firmly rooted in the upcoming years after this comic, Knightfall being a great example) Being Batman, Knightfall will establish, is pretty much all that keeps Bruce Wayne living. You could say that being Batman saved his life.

3. Bruce admits he took Jason on because he was lonely in this very same confrontation when Dick pushes him on this idea. This makes it abundantly clear why he needs this rationalization in the first place, his real reason for making Jason Robin appears to be somewhat selfish.

But what does this all mean? For one, it proves that Batman's primary explanation for why he took on Jason Todd is lowgrade BS. It also shows how Batman's rationalization has begun to veer into projection. He states that Jason was saved from his self destructiveness by becoming Robin, something that is certainly true for himself, but not really Jason.

We see this projection fully take root when Leslie Thompkins confronts Bruce. Not only is Jason Todd saved by becoming Robin, now he wasn't even chosen by Batman. It was, much like Bruce Wayne becoming Batman, inevitable. Something he was "born" to do.

Detective #574

Mindset: I didn't chose Jason, he was chosen, he is just like me, we were born for this

This is essential. This mindset will show up again and again as a core part of Bruce's ability to rationalize working with child vigilantes once Jason has died.

Lets look at how his mindset has been evolving from before he meets Jason to his time as Robin progressing. Batman has gone from:

Teenage/Child vigilante Bad --> Child Vigilante Good because Jason would have become a crimial --> Child Vigilante Good because Jason would have died, I saved his life --> Child Vigilante is Good because I saved his life and Jason was meant to be Robin just like I was meant to be Batman, this is what we were was born to do

This is insane rationalization. But it works. For a while.

Then, Jason begins acting out, and putting himself in danger. Whoops. uh oh! How can Jason be saved by becoming Robin, if he is endangered by it? The balm for Bruce's semi-suicidal ideation was crime fighting, so if Jason is self destructive as Robin, does that mean Jason isn't like Bruce after all? Does that mean he wasn't born to be Robin? Was Bruce right in the begining? Is Teen Vigilantism Bad? Well, lucklily, the rationalization Bruce has built doesnt need to change too much in order to accommodate these new facts.

Batman #426 (1940)

See, this issue has not reverted back to being child vigilantism, it's the fact that Jason isn't ready yet.

Batman #426 (1940) / Batman #427

Batman latches onto this idea, he identifies it as "the problem". Is he wrong? No, not really. It does seem like Jason needs come to terms with his parents deaths. But this is important because it is still a rationalization for mindset he started with, still part of the reason he can be in favor of Teenage Vigilantism.

Then Jason Todd dies, as Robin. That truly breaks the underlying concept for this rationalization, that being Robin saved Jason Todd. The entire justification has fully shattered, and Bruce Wayne has lost a son. And, so because of this, in the wake of Jason Todds death, we see a full 180 revert back to the idea Bruce held onto at the end of Dick Graysons time as Robin: Teenage Vigilante = Bad.

Batman #428/ The New Teen Titans #55 (1984) / Batman #439

He has fully rejected the very concept of working with anyone, including the now adult Nightwing. He is literally right back where we started, with even deeper convictions against working with someone else (especially a kid) ever again.

But we all know this doesn't stick. He takes on 13 year old Tim Drake as Robin not long at all afterwards. As the 90's progress Bruces goes on to work with a huge variety of other vigilantes and partners, both teenaged and adult.

So how does he possibly justify this?

I believe he retrofits his rationalization for taking on Jason as Robin.

He adheres to a primary idea. The idea that some people are, like him, simply built for Vigilantism. That they, much like he once believed Jason was, "born" for it.

Mindset: Child Vigilantle is not always Good, but it can be Good. When its the right kind of teenager. Some Teenaged Vigilantes are meant to be Vigilantes just like I was meant to be Batman.

In this way, Jason Todds tragic murder is not a failure of concept, it a category error. Batmans mistake was not working with a teenager, his mistake was working with the wrong kind of teenager. Jason Todd was not built for vigilantism. But others are. This means he's still totally in the clear to work with teenagers, Tim Drake as Robin, then Cassandra Cain as Batgirl, and then eventually Stephanie Brown as Spoiler. So long as Bruce is able to believe they are "born" for it, that they are like Batman himself, meant to do this, and incapable of living a normal life, there is no contradiction, his rationalization holds.

But where’s the proof?

This mindset can be clearly seen and prominently seen when Stephanie Brown is fired as Spoiler.

When Steph is fired as Spoiler because she has moved in Bruce's mind from the "acceptable Teen Vigilante" category into the "unacceptable Teen Vigilante category". And the reasons he gives for this decision are exactly in line with the rationalization I've lain out. She is consistently contrasted to other teen vigilante characters who are fit for duty because he does not see her as "like him/them".

Detective #790

Notice how he jumps right from "Jason and Stephanie were/are not fit to fight crime" to "they could/can have a normal life" right to "unlike me and you, Cassandra Cain, who are stuck fighting crime forever". Much like how he originally justified his decision to work with Jason Todd as Robin through the idea that Jason and Bruce were both destined for this life, he applies the exact same idea, but this time, about himself and Cassandra Cain as Batgirl. And in contrast to them, and in directly comparison to Jason Todd, Stephanie is not meant for crime fighting.

Batgirl #38 (2000)

And Stephanie Brown is contrasted with Cass again, when Bruce first explains why he fired Steph to Cass. This is a consistent pattern. She is not like Cass. This is why she shouldn’t be a vigilante.

When he explains that he is going to fire Steph as Spoiler to Tim, he says something very interesting which invokes the same idea. In the list of three reasons he throw out that Steph shouldn't be Spoiler, he mentions that she is going to "throw her life away". When taken in combination with the other panels discussed, its clear to me that he means this is the common way the saying is used. That she is wasting her life by being a vigilante, that she should, as he mentions earlier, be living a normal life. But why is he saying this to Tim? If one of the reasons Steph shouldn't be Spoiler is her ability to lead a normal life, why the fuck is Tim exempt? I think it comes from a genuine belief that Tim is "like him". Unable to live a normal, non-vigilante life, "born" for crime fighting. Much like Cass, who we already saw him directly compare himself to in this exact same way. Thats why he can directly reference to Tim Steph's ability to have a normal life as a reason she shouldn't be a vigilante, he doesn't believe Tim fits the same category at all!

Robin #106 (1993)

So why the fuck does Stephanie move categories? She was acceptable earlier? What changed?

I've already done an in-depth explanation for what the subconscious underlying reason Bruce fires Stephanie: she simply is no longer useful to as a balm for his loneliness. I highly recommend checking out the post here if you are interested in the breakdown of why and how.

But in addition to that, it’s clear to me that it also has a weird amount to do with Jason Todd.

Stephanie simply and clearly reminds Bruce of Jason Todd. He points out their similarities in personality, and it’s worth mentioning the similarities in their circumstances as well (mothers who struggle(d) with drug addiction, and fathers who were criminals).

As we saw in Detective #790, their personality similarities led to Batman associating Steph with Jason. This makes sense, this association would only grow as he got to know her over the time she is sanctioned as Spoiler.

I believe this association leads to him eventually placing her in the same category as Jason, as not "born" for vigilantism at all, and as capable of having a normal life.

But it also serves as a clear way to rectify his mistakes with Jason. It’s his way of “making up for” his role in Jason's death. It’s his second chance. Never mind that this second chance leads to his assessment of Stephanie having very little to do with Steph herself, and a whole fucking lot to do about Bruce’s guilt over Jason’s death.

This is especially brutal because it seems to come from a place of genuine care (and a selfish desire to assuage his guilt too), but Stephanie doesn't get the tender moment of explanation and grief and regret that Cassandra hears. She doesn't get to know this.

What she gets, is to be told point blank that she is fired because she just isn't good enough. She gets to hear that she lacks the "skills and talent" from the same man who originally came to her to train her because he finally saw and recognized her potential. She gets told she will never be good enough by the guy who told her that she could learn and improve under his instruction. She gets two sentences. She has to fight for any more.

I cannot emphasize enough the fact that she had to track Bruce down to get an explanation for why he was suddenly ghosting her. He didn't even have the decency to tell her himself. Stephanie had to track Bruce down just so she could find out that he gave up on her.

Stephanie gets a blunt lie about why she is fired. And Bruce Wayne gets to feel good about "correcting" a mistake that had nothing to do with Stephanie. Stephanie gets cut off from her friends. Bruce Wayne gets to reconcile with his team. Stephanie gets to feel worthless. Bruce Wayne gets to feel justified.

[mymegrokosmos]

a little soft bf minghao brainrot bc i felt like it. super era shoulder injury hao.

you set your bags down on the counter, dropping your keys by the front door and going to put your things away. by the time you've shrugged out of your jacket, hung it up in the front closet and put your purse in its usual spot on the credenza table in the hallway you're ready to melt into the sofa but there's still more to do before you can relax.

when you get to the kitchen, halfway through tying your hair up out of your face, you find yourself smiling. the familiar sight of your boyfriend's back, clad in his usual leisure attire of grey sleeveless top that leaves just a hint of his shoulders visible, peeks out of the fridge. he's already started putting the groceries away before anything gets too warm. just when you think your fondness for him can’t melt your heart any more than it already has he leans back to look at you from around the door and his soft smile has your heart in shambles.

if it’s possible to become one with the floor you're doing it. you've become a puddle. his shaggy mullet is in disarray, fluffy from where he's run his hands through it, and his face is bare. his usually sharp eyes are framed by big round glasses, softening his gaze as he closes the fridge in favour of coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"hi darling, welcome home. how was your day?"

you'd think after all this time you'd be used to how tall he was but it was still always a bit of a surprise just how much he towered over you up close. you sighed, letting him pull you into a hug and sliding your arms around his slim waist.

"hi. it was okay, very long."

he chuckles and you close your eyes, head resting against his chest. you're careful to lay it against the side of his good shoulder, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt as his hand comes up to rest against the back of your head.

"i'm glad to finally be home. what did you get up to today handsome?"

the hand on your waist squeezes lightly and he holds you close for a minute before stepping back with another kiss to the top of your head.

"physio this morning again and then practice, even though I can't do a lot of the choreo yet they still need me for blocking when I can make it. mingyu came by earlier and dropped off some hotpot. why don't you go get into something more comfortable and we can talk about it over dinner?"

sometimes there was nothing better than coming home to everything already being taken care of. you know he misses being at work but being home more means minghao needs things to do. his physiotherapist also says that getting some movement in is good for his progress, so he's been taking care of household chores and spending a lot more time meditating lately to keep himself busy.

the members have been helping when they can. mingyu comes by or gets your boyfriend out of the house at least three times a week now. jun's often over in his free time to run lines with hao or catch up on the latest cdrama you're watching together. you think joshua has even dragged him out to a pottery class or two in their spare time. it's been good for him and the rest is doing him good, even if it makes him a little bit restless sometimes.

you nod. "i'll be right back. do you need me to help with anything?"

"no, just relax and leave the day at the office jagiya."

easier said than done but minghao always made you feel less guilty about sticking by work life balance and keeping them mostly separate. it's also been fun spending more time cooking together, he's good in the kitchen just a little impatient and you're enjoying getting to try out some of his mother's recipes. she's often on video call when you get home, minghao pouting about something while she scolds him playfully or they catch up on their weeks with each other. it's sweet and you love that their relationship only seems to get stronger as time goes on.

"you're still coming to the company dinner next week with me, right?"

another soft smile as he nods. "I'll be there darling. I didn't pick us out matching outfits just to not show up. now stop worrying and go change. you're hovering again."

you are, just a little bit. it's a habit you're still trying to work your way out of. you were a little traumatized when you got the call that hao was in the hospital at first and, though you both know he's fine and capable now, the instinct to make sure he's okay still lingers a little bit.

you sigh and make a face at him. "okay, okay. I'm going."

he just chuckles as you head towards your shared bedroom. makeup and weight of the day finally removed it's time to slip into one of hao's oversized tshirts and the matching cotton pyjama pants he bought for you last christmas. it feels like a cozy day so you take the time to find your slippers too before shuffling back towards the kitchen.

you find minghao stirring a pot of what seems to be mingyu's latest attempt at comfort food and slip your arms around his waist from behind, face pressed lightly against his warm back.

"smells good."

he hums in agreement, hand patting yours where it rests on his stomach. "I think he made enough to feed about seven more people than we currently have in the apartment."

you laugh and lean around him to peek at the food over his arm. "gyu probably plans to use it as an excuse to come over for lunch tomorrow or something. oh no guess you need someone else to help you eat it all."

that makes your boyfriend scoff. "why would he do that when he can just say he wants to come over? he knows where we live."

you kiss his bicep and move to get down some bowls for you both. "because he's kim mingyu and you're you myungho."

your boyfriend stops to look at you, blinking as he pauses his stirring. "I'm still not seeing your point love."

"you know how you don't like when people get too presumptuous about you?" you smile softly. "I wouldn't say he's intimidated because gyu knows you love him but... sometimes he's a little insecure and sometimes you can be a little cold."

he considers this. "he's never let that stop him before."

you smile and let him guide you, one hand on your hip as you slide between him and the pot on the stove to fill your bowls.

"and he won't, I don't think, because at the end of the day he knows that it isn't that you don't like his affection you just don't always know what to do with it and it needs time to process. but I think, and maybe this is just my take, he sometimes worries a little about intruding too much. especially now that you have a relationship outside of just your family and the members and your other friends."

it's quiet for a minute as he takes that in. you dish up hot pot for both of you and take the bowls over to your small dining table. minghao slowly follows behind, face impassive. you'd worry that you upset him but you know that expression. it's not anger or annoyance, he's just lost in thought. you take his hand, press a kiss to the back of it, and watch as he blinks back into the present.

"think about it all you need but let's eat first. like I said, maybe I'm just reading too much into it. maybe he has other reasons. we can finish that new drama and call him later if you want."

your boyfriend nods and joins you at the table, filling you in on his day. you can tell he's only half present but that's okay. by the time you finish and wash up he seems to have come to a decision.

"love?"

"yes myungho?"

he scrunches his nose. "try again please darling."

you laugh but the arms he crosses over his chest tell you he's serious. you smile softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"yes, seo myungho great love of my life and most wondrous of boyfriends?"

he snorts. "closer but still not correct."

"baobei?"

he blinks. "close enough."

you laugh and brush a hand over his cheek, melting a little when he leans into the touch and takes your hand in his.

"you know I'm only teasing you, right?"

he nods. "I do."

you lace your fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. "what did you want to say honey?"

"do you mind if mingyu comes over tomorrow? I know it's your day off."

"babe, this is your apartment too."

minghao sighs. you know that look. the exasperated 'are you being serious right now?' stare. you smile.

"no, I don't mind if gyu comes over. just maybe warn me beforehand so I can make sure I have pants and a bra on this time."

that makes him smile, just a little, even as he rolls his eyes at you.

"come help me with my skincare?"

"only if you let me use the good stuff."

"mm we can even wear those matching headbands you like."

"lead the way love."

sometimes all you need after a long day is xu minghao ready with a hot meal, a long hug and a silly fuzzy frog headband keeping the bangs out of his face as he applies 6 layers of different creams to your face.

[god-blues]

thinking about cid and how he just cannot deal with his emotions, or that of other people

otto, a friend he's had for literal decades, only had cid express his sincere and honest feelings to him from a note that cid had written when he was completely wasted and then on top of that hid away in some books for otto to find years after his passing

it even shows in mid's flightiness. her inability to visit cid's grave due to that same kind of avoidance of her feelings and just not wanting to confront it, so she runs from it instead, much like her dad did

from the moment clive meets him, you see this reflected with him as well. cid never expressly tells clive what he thinks about him, he only tries to nudge and push clive onto the right path in his own somewhat overbearing way. rather than telling clive that he's there for him and wants to mentor him and hopes that one day clive will take over as leader of the hideaway, cid waits until his literal last breath to pass that onto him

even when clive is at his lowest after the fight with benedikta, cid's solution to his spiral is to sock him in the jaw!! cid just cannot cope with the situation in any other way. trying to comfort clive? address the pain and feelings behind his meltdown? nope. snap him out of it with some Tough Love and keep it moving

i've been thinking whether cid's experience with barnabas had anything to do with this: whether he once might have been much more open, but because barnabas burned him and misused his trust, he has been sitting with a certain kind of doubt in his own judgment. where he once pledged himself to barnabas' cause, it must have felt like a betrayal to see barnabas turn his back on the ideals they once shared, and now cid can't shake off the fear of vulnerability

cid ran away from waloed, and maybe, he's been continuing to run ever since, so that he doesn't have to confront the hurt it inflicted on him

blackthorne also notes to clive that cid has a habit of deciding what's best for other people. maybe that, then, makes it easier to treat other people like pieces of a puzzle he needs to slot into their right place rather than engage with them emotionally. he's known as a tinkerer and inventor of things, after all

and that way, if someone betrays him, he won't get hurt again