#and my snippet is way more than that

[echo-bleu]

Seven Sentence Sunday

I was tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (thank you!)

I have new WIPs growing like mushrooms currently, so here's a brand new one. It's a Silm canon divergence that starts at "Maglor tries to rescue Maedhros from Angband", but here we're long after that:

“We need help. We need the Valar.” It tears at Maedhros’s throat to even say it, though it’s far from the first time. It feels like a betrayal of all his father stood for, to go begging for the Valar’s help, but they’re out of options. “All the expeditions have been lost,” Elwing points. “What hope is there?” Maedhros reaches into the folds of his gambeson, between the armoured plates. He holds out his hand to her. “Take this to your husband. It might tip the scale.” Elwing stares at the Silmaril glowing in his hand. “You—” “They are good for nothing if we’re all dead. The Valar wanted them once. Maybe if we’re willing to negotiate…” Maedhros stops. The last tendril of the old Oath pulls at his vocal cords, powerless but nonetheless present, as if screaming for his betrayal. “Take it to Eärendil,” he repeats. “Sail to Valinor. Do what we could not.”

tagging @emyn-arnens @polutrope @camille-lachenille @xianvar @pherryt

[stbot]

Wait are you actually doing the Tile/Pairing/fic summary? Because that could be fun 👀👀

If so Yelena/Kate and title of fic: Please

Yes, I am, thank you <33

(send me a title and a pairing and I will give you the summary of a fic I will never write)

P.L.E.A.S.E.

A burst of artifically cooled air breaks across Kate's face, doing more to wake her up than the four cups of coffee with triple espresso shots that constituted her breakfast ever could. She shivers, the cold prickling at her skin like the edges of the excitement that kept her up all night before her first day. Wide-eyed and eager, she rubs her hands together and breathes hotly into her cupped palms, her spirits not chilled one bit. "This," Deputy Director Hill leads her into a massive room filled with rows upon rows of server frames, a handful of techs scattered throughout with laptops and tablets while a handful of dark camera globes in the ceiling track their movements, "is the brains of the operation. It- no, don't touch that." Kate yanks her hand back from a knot of cables plugged into a rack. Hill's eyes narrow — briefly, dangerously — and then she carries on with her little tour. "It's been a decade in the making and every other project combined is less important than this one. You will never set foot in this room again." And with that, the tour seems concluded. She turns on her heel and marches back out the sliding glass doors with a sharp, "Now, come on. We need to get your biometric scans done before my meeting at 9." With a nod and an excited hop in her step, Kate eagerly follows. But not before catching a glimpse of the S.H.I.E.L.D. symbol on the door, and the words etched into the glass beneath it. Predictive Linguistic and Empathic Algorithmic Security Enhancement. Kate snorts. Director Fury really does love his acronyms. And as she turns to follow Deputy Director Hill to go do all the boring, new-hire onboarding and paperwork, Kate catches a glimpse of a faint red light inside a dark globe as one of the cameras watches her go. (Or: S.H.I.E.L.D. accidentally creates a sentient A.I. Kate accidentally falls in love with her. Together, they accidentally find out she's not actually an A.I. at all.)

And since you are the first (and so far only) person to play, here have a bonus second summary for this same title lol

(Under a cut bc Yelena is a sex worker and some people may not want to read that even tho this is emphatically NOT a sex thing.)

Please

In this business, Yelena has encountered just about every shade of depravity imaginable. From the kind so commonplace and predictable it warrants nothing more than an eyeroll, to the kind of darkness that would convince even God himself to rid the Earth of the blight of humanity if it's managed to go this terribly wrong. There are requests that make her skin crawl. Commands that delicately untangle every thread of her concious awareness until she is not even bearing witness to what her own body has done. Shames her body will carry with it even after she has long departed its mortal constraints. But in the end, it's all just business, and she is a professional. Yelena has seen the worst that humanity has to offer. Much of it may be disgusting, unconscionable, but none of it has ever been surprising. Until, that is, she steps off the private elevator of a Park Avenue penthouse, expecting just another pretty playboy who thinks his inherited fortune can buy him anything and everything in the world, but finds instead a teetering tower of talking takeout containers. "Oh, wow, you're here already?" It says, precariously tilting beneath its own awkward weight before strong hands fix their balance and right it before it can topple to the floor. "I haven't even gotten the board games out of the closet yet!" (Or: Yelena is a high-end escort, and this touch starved trust fund painfully lonely billionaire is by far the strangest client she's ever had to work with. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing.)

[mitamicah]

✨Them 😭🥹✨

(inspired by a shirt I saw in a danish grocery store around pride)

[silvery-bluish]

WIP basically Wednesday

I’m not staying up late enough for it to ACTUALLY be Wednesday for me but thank you for the tag @glitchy-npc ! I’m gonna go ahead and tag @thenightdayblogger and @autistic-sidestep and uuh @sunsetno4 ?

Here’s some telepathy connections and disconnects musings from a longer piece that might… not get posted publicly lol

“I wish—“ Ricardo says, cuts himself off, and it’s Daniel’s thought not yours that completes the sentence, even though Daniel’s mostly nodded off against your side. Wish that he could do that. Wish that he wasn’t stuck on the outside of your brain. “I’d crawl inside your head and live there too if I could,” you murmur, raising a hand to blindly trace your fingers from his temple down around his eye, the edge of cheekbone. “Tangled up so nobody could tell which was which. But I can’t, and you’re safe from me or any other telepath doing something stupid to your head, so that’s alright too.” He’s tangled your limbs together, instead, legs entwined (for now) and his arms wrapped around the both of you, best he can. His chest is warm against your cheek, and you shut your eyes, listening to his heartbeat compete with the gentle thrum of his generator. His fingers tapping a pattern on Daniel's shoulder. Daniel’s fallen asleep, and he’s threatening to take you down with him when Ricardo finally responds. “I’d take knowing you like that over being safe any day, Ars.” You can’t say much to that — not like his epilepsy is going away any time soon, not like you’re suddenly going to be able to punch through the static of his mind. At least not safely. So making more promises of being willing to climb into his head like a hermit crab finding a new shell feel pointless and maybe a little bit weird. You kind of want to anyway.

[bmpmp3]

RECENTLY IVE BEEN really into the idea of making up "fanunits" for vocal synths akin to what we do with love live characters, like fanmade duos, trios, other unofficial groups and like playing with what kind of names and outfits they could have and what kinds of songs would fit their vibes..... ive got a bunch of sticky notes all over the place full of little unofficial groups like this now.... holds out my hand. play toys with me.

[quadrantadvisor]

This post reminded me of the time I got entranced by the idea of in-universe rpf and wrote an "excerpt" of a hypothetical accidental selfcest fanfic.

The Lore tm is that in a universe where Bernard never met Tim, he became a prolific Capes RPF writer as well as conspiracy theorist, and that the popularity of the Bruce Wayne/Batman ship gave him the fun idea of pairing up the Wayne kids with Batclan counterparts, which lined up surprisingly well! Tim, who frequents the Gotham Capes RPF tag for normal reasons (as a kid he wrote a surpisingly popular series of gen fics where his self insert oc got adopted by Batman, he was like 11 don't judge him) sees this fic and finds certain details, such as, y'know, shipping his family members with themselves, highly suspicious. He must investigate this person and find out how much they know.

-

[...]

“What are you doing here, Nightwing?” Officer Grayson sighed. He looked tired, the hero noted. He understood that. A city like this could make a man tired in his soul. “The case is over. There's no reason to see eachother anymore.”

It didn't take long for Nightwing to find a reason. “There's no Batman in Bludhaven,” he said. “I need to take allies where I can get them, and you… I think you're in the same boat.” He remembered the photos of young, pretty Richie Grayson, smiling in the tabloids,  and thought about how the force could beat down someone like that. “I know you want to make Bludhaven a better place. We can keep helping eachother, working together. We need eachother.” That was all true. But none of it was why Nightwing had come to the officer's apartment balcony.

Grayson rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't think you understand how much trouble I could be in. If the other officers found out I was slipping information to a vigilante…” He frowned, the dark circles beneath his eyes even more pronounced with the expression. “They don't trust you.”

“Do you?” Nightwing couldn't help but ask.

Grayson clenched his jaw, and his gaze on Nightwing became piercing. Looking at him, the vigilante knew—he had been beaten down, but not broken. His free spirit compressed into something stronger, harder. There was fire in his eyes. “I don't know,” the officer said, “should I?”

In some ways, the display of dominance was adorable, and Nightwing couldn't help flashing his signature sharp grin. “You can,” he promised. “It's up to you. But I could show you.” He hopped onto the balcony's railing with his inhuman grace, and held out his hand. “If you put your trust in me, I'll make it worth your while.”

The man looked dubious, gaze flicking from Nightwing's shielded eyes to his outstretched hand. “How?”

“You used to be an acrobat, didn't you, officer?” the hero asked.

Grayson looked away. “That was a long time ago.’”

“Well,” said Nightwing, still grinning that wicked grin, teeth flashing in the dim light, “how would you like to really fly?”

The officer's eyes went wide, and for a moment, Nightwing worried he would close the door, shut him out, and it would all be over. Then a determined look swept over him, and he stepped forward, reaching out.

Grayson's hand slipped into his, and Nightwing took the leap.

[...]

End notes:

😭 why did you have to become a cop richie how am i meant to acab like this????

like yes cops are Bastard but like. Richie Grayson was an outlier and should not have been counted. he's perfect your honor. he's never done anything wrong in his whole life. no one tell me otherwise pls

also nightwing is some kind of fae creature but don't worry about that

[prince-liest]

One of my 666 extras ideas evolved into something that's almost certainly going to turn big enough to be a whole separate installment, I think!

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Aftermath

After waking up from a ten year stasis, Gordon finds himself back in the ruins of Black Mesa.

Notes: Hi half life fandom this is my first fic posted for HL. Also this is the first reveal of my HL au: Aftermath! So thats pretty neato, anyway hope you enjoy this short little prologue thing

Blackness was all he saw; darkness for miles, with pure nothingness filling the gaps. He couldn’t feel, see, or hear, and even trying to think of a single thing was proving to be a greater challenge than he’d expect. His thoughts blurred together into a sludge of meaningless ramblings, leaving him unable to process where he was, or how he got here. He had vague memories flashing in his mind, glimpses of concrete corridors and alien fauna. It was maddeningly barren, with the silence being enough to drive a man mad. How much time has passed since he arrived here? Has it been seconds? Days?  Time itself felt nonexistent at that very moment, simply a construct that meant nothing in this place. It felt as if he was in a dream, trapped in his own head as he traversed his own subconsciousness, floating in a vague void, unable to act or react to anything that could possibly be in there. He all but gave up hope of escaping this dark Hell he had found himself in, until he felt himself being pulled by an invisible force, and abruptly, there was light.

Gordon’s senses came back to him as fast as a train crash, the feeling of barely healed fractures and lacerations coming back to him as his nerves fired. Ringing flooded his hearing, with the HEV’s computer voice, an artificial voice he came to despise, sounding muffled and making it hard to process any of the words being said to him. He couldn’t move, his limbs feeling as if they were being pinned down by a massive weight, as if he was on the bottom of the ocean. The numbing pain shot up his legs and arms, though despite his wishes, there was no way he could even scream, with his throat tight and his vocal cords useless. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, with the weakness draped across his body making even that menial action nearly impossible. He began to wonder if the infinite void he was in before would be better than reality, with the idea of feeling nothing rather than feeling everything to a painful degree seeming like a better option than what he was forced to bear.

As he laid on the rubble, he began to hear something new past the waning ringing; footsteps approaching him. Gordon desperately wanted to move, to protect himself from the new danger, yet as much as he tried, his limbs refused to budge. Soon he realized it was multiple sets of footfall coming near, and soon, he began to make out a voice.

The words slurred together in his mind, making the message hard to decipher, but a few words cut clearer than others:

“Breathing. Freeman. Alive. Help. Out.”

Gordon felt his limp body being moved, raised from the ground by someone, or something, being dragged across the concrete floor to somewhere else. Despite his foggy mind, Gordon couldn’t help but consider the worst; Xen creatures dragging him elsewhere to slaughter him as he did to them, and Military personnel taking him somewhere to question, torture, or even execute him were among the possibilities his short-circuting mind had come up with. However, before he could even do anything to try and prevent whatever fate might befall him, he felt himself drifting off, falling unconscious yet again.

He slowly stirred awake once again to hear the sound of an engine running and tires rolling across a gravel road. He was almost afraid to open his eyes, yet when he gained the strength to do so, his eyelids opened and he took a brief glimpse around. Through his blurred vision, he saw he was in the backseat of some sort of vehicle, laid across the seats. His metal HEV pressed against his body awkwardly, making any movement he could make uncomfortable. His head was supported with a wadded-up hoodie, and his body was covered by a thin blanket that had been thrown onto him. It was strange to see simple kindness extended to him, though he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a trick to make him let his guard down. He glanced towards the front seats, seeing the back of the drivers head, but not who was in the passenger seat. They were speaking to one another, but yet again the words fell out of Gordon’s grasp. He felt himself beginning to drift off again, and despite his wishes to stay awake, he grew limp as he fell unconscious yet again.

When Gordon next woke up, he was greeted with cold air around him. As he was pulled out of unconsciousness, he began to hear rhythmic beeping beside him; something he immediately recognized as a heart monitor. Gordon felt as if a weight was taken off of him, and when he gained the strength to open his eyes again, he saw the reason why. His HEV suit was missing, and he was instead wearing a pale blue hospital gown from what he could gather. He was laying in a bed, with its stiff mattress, albeit uncomfortable, feeling like heaven compared to laying on the cold concrete floors of Black Mesa. He saw bandages covering parts of his body, old blood seeping into them. Past his bed however, he could barely make out anything, with everything being blurry and hard to make out. He must have lost his glasses somewhere, but it was the least of his worries as the pain began to seep in. 

All his limbs felt sore, making it hard to move a single finger. His leg had a throbbing pain in his knee, and he felt as if he was being slashed with knives whenever he attempted to move his arms. His heart felt heavy and his lungs stinged with every breath. When was the last time he took a break to breathe? It felt like the days worth of fighting for his life hit him all at once, making him feel nearly paralyzed, and too tired to do anything to fight it. He began to wonder if it was best to be asleep; at least he wouldn’t have to think or feel. He began to wonder how he got here, racking his brain to try and bring up any clue of what had happened. The last thing he remembered before he woke up was being knee-deep in what he could assume was blood, staring up at something…he couldn’t even begin to describe. He killed the thing keeping the portal between earth and the border world open, so why did he feel so…empty? It felt as though his accomplishment meant nothing, as if he was missing something deep inside. He closed his eyes, attempting to fetch his blotted out memories for a shred of explanation, all before he shot his eyes open, a single image returning to his consciousness.

The man.

Gordon’s memories became clear as day when he remembered the man in the dull, navy blue suit. He remembered its unnaturally piercing eyes, staring deep into Gordon’s very being as if it was examining his very soul and regrets. He remembered its face, with it looking aged, yet it felt ageless at the same time. He remembered the unnatural way it stood, as if it was being held up with strings. He recalled the way it spoke to him as if it never spoke in its entire life before that very moment. He never got its name or its motivations, but something about remembering the man and its almost human facade caused his heart to skip a beat. Paranoia crept up in his mind, and the feeling of being watched began to be overwhelming. Something wasn’t right, as if something he didn’t see was coming after him. He needed to get out of here before it arrived.

Gordon forced his arms to move as he sat up in his bed, wincing before he turned to step out of bed, clasping the side of it with one of his shaking hands. As soon as he put weight on his leg, however, he collapsed onto the linoleum floor, ripping his IV out of his arm in the process. He let out a small squeak; the closest he physically could get to a scream, a pathetic noise that reminded him just how helpless he truly was at this moment. He pushed himself up as much as he could, arms shaking at the exertion, but he couldn’t get back onto his feet. As he tried to get off of the floor in vain, the door to the room opened, and a person appeared in the doorway. It was a nurse, coming into the room only to be greeted by Gordon unsuccessfully escaping his bed. She appeared surprised, immediately approaching him to help with getting him back onto the bed, despite his best tries to escape her grasp. She said a few things to try and comfort him, but Gordon couldn’t process the words before she quickly left the room, coming back with another doctor, presumably for help.

Gordon hated the fact he was back in the bed, with a new IV being attached and bandages being replaced. He wasn’t sure when the next threat would rear its head, and he needed to be prepared for when it did. Yet, he was all but incapable of doing anything of use, and he had to accept it. He could barely even move, less shoot a gun or swing a weapon at anything. 

“Dr. Freeman?”

Gordon was surprised to finally make out what someone was saying, looking up at the doctor who had just finished reattaching his IV. 

“You’re lucky to be alive,” He stated, almost smiling slightly. It was unclear if it was to try and make light of the situation or if it was relief. “Even more lucky to be awake right now. Though please, don’t try getting up again, alright? You might reopen stitches.”

Gordon stared at the doctor’s face blankly before leaning back and staring at the ceiling as the doctor continued talking.

“A couple of scavengers found you back at the ruins of Black Mesa, or, at least that's their story. You’ll have to speak with the police about the entire situation.” the doctor continued, “The Vortigaunt said you were lucky to be found in there, apparently had to drag you out of there.”

Gordon’s brows furrowed, not recognizing the word “Vortigaunt” despite the doctor bringing it up so casually. He looked back at the doctor with a puzzled look on his face. 

“I’m sure everyone will be happy to see you’re alive,” The doctor chuckled, trying to make light of the situation despite Gordon not reciprocating the cheerful atmosphere. “You’ve been gone for a long time, so a lot of us thought you would never return.”

Gordon’s puzzled expression turned to a look of borderline anger, wanting to ask so many questions but being unable to; he didn’t even know if the doctor knew sign language, and he didn’t have paper to write on, that is if he had the strength to hold a pencil.

“You look…upset,” The doctor said, his smile fading, “I can understand why, but if it brings you any comfort, you have hundreds of thousands of people who were wishing for your return. You’re a hero, you know.”

Gordon doubted that sentiment.

“We…believe you were in a coma, sir,” The doctor glanced at his nurse, as if he wanted help breaking the news, “...one that lasted ten years, so you're...lucky to be alive at all.”

The doctor continued to explain the situation, claiming that Gordon was lucky to have his brain still functioning despite being asleep for that long, but the words went through one ear and out the other. Gordon didn’t process the doctor trying to speak to him, only staring into the wall behind him as he leaned back in his bed. He didn’t even blink once as reality seemed to become meaningless, dissociating as his brain wouldn’t even allow him to process the time lost. To him, he was gone for a few mere moments, but an entire decade had passed in the time it took him to escape the void he was in for a brief, yet agonizing time. He wondered if his friends had forgotten about him, if they were even alive after the Resonance Cascade; they almost certainly believed he was dead at the very least. Gordon had been dead to the world for so long, he felt surprised anyone came to rescue him at all. After all, who would rescue the man who caused so much death in the span of a few days? Was he supposed to go back into normal society after everything? Was he supposed to be praised as a hero, despite the fact he was just a lowly scientist who just wanted to survive?

Gordon wished to go back to sleep. Being awake felt more agonizing than the temporary stasis ever did.

[leonardcohenofficial]

of course luka is the only one of the entire bunch who would give therapy a try when all of them DESPERATELY need it

[fluffypotatey]

so, found out neither my brother or my mom knew about this song :( hoping this site won’t steer me wrong

[wikiangela]

wip wednesday

tagged by @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @tizniz @bidisasterevankinard @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz 💖

I'm jumping between wips and ships so much rn, but trust me, it's even more chaotic in my brain like at all times lol it's so annoying

wasn't gonna post today but I figured I'd share a bit of the cheating fic bc I moved my self-imposed deadline to middle of may and istg I'm not moving it again so I need motivation to finish this lmao

(this scene is fighting me ngl, but I need it, and it's just gonna need a lot of editing but for now this is just a rough draft lol)

prev snippet

___

Not breaking the kiss, Eddie shifts, throwing his leg over Buck’s lap, straddling him, and Buck’s hands immediately wrap around his hips, bringing him closer, as close as possible, just needing Eddie closer. Eddie gasps when their crotches collide, and breaks the kiss, Buck’s lips moving to Eddie’s neck.

“Buck.” Eddie whispers. “Buck, we- we should talk.” Eddie tries, but one of his hands is tangled in Buk’s hair, holding on tight. Buck stills his movements, looks up at Eddie and sees reluctance in his face. He’s not sure if it’s reluctance to stop or continue, and he needs to know for sure, would never want Eddie to feel pressured in any way. They have no alcohol to blame this time, after all.

“If you want to, let’s stop, and we can talk.” Buck says, voice a little shaky as he adds, “But we can always talk tomorrow?”, knowing this is a very bad decision, once again. He’s looking at Eddie’s face and sees something complicated, a conflict, a battle with himself. His eyes roam over Buck’s face, lingering on his eyes, then lips, then back to eyes. In the end, some part of Eddie wins, or loses, and he captures Buck’s lips with his own again.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck

@loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff

@spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus

@giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon

@911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie

@diazsdimples @your-catfish-friend

[redyarns]

snippet (undertow, ch 4)

[autisticrosewilson]

In Trouble

Um. This is a joke that's not a joke that spawned from a conversation with @perseus-jackass about Nurse! Jason and Red X! Grant, that spiraled into a Miraculous Ladybug style love square situation lmao. OG's will remember when this was an ML blog, you could say I'm going back to my roots. Also this story is omegaverse! It's not really mentioned till Jason's pov but I don't want to blindside anyone

"Scream if you have to." Robin says gently, before wrenching his shoulder back into place. Grant does scream, he jerks and writhes but gloved hands hold him in place while his bones shift under the skin. There's a white hot pain that spreads through his arm, an aching relief as everything is realigned, and then everything goes prickly and numb.

Grant lays there panting, staring up at the smoggy night sky. Gotham doesn't even give him the courtesy of stars after subjecting them all to her madness. Robin had at least been kind enough to lay down his cape before his impromptu field med session, but goosebumps are spreading up his arms the longer his bare torso is in contact with the New Jersey air. At least Robin had helped him remove his shirt instead of cutting it off, as he'd threatened to.

"Good job," Robin praises, "you took that so well!" He grins, a certified Robin smile. Suddenly, Grant knows where all the stars went.

"Uh, thanks." Grant says absently, eyes tracing over the glint of too-sharp canines peaking out from cracked lips. Robin's a lip biter, he notes, the flesh has been scraped off. They'd probably bleed with little to no effort.

Grant wants to try, wants to taste it.

Slade clears his throat, and Grant remembers that his family is in the room, among several other hostages, and about twelve previously armed men who are now very unconscious. Robin himself has moved onto taking stock of everyone in the room, likely doing a head count and checking for any other injuries, but he signals for Slade to wait. He tilts his head slightly, finger coming to rest on the communicator in his ear.

"Okay folks, police are en route and the parameter has been cleared. I'm going to lead you all to the nearest exit, keep your head low and try not to make any noise. Listen carefully and stay behind me." Robin pops out of his crouch, helping Grant up as he gives the group orders.

"Look, kid-" Slade starts, and is promptly cut off by multiple snorts from the other hostages. The Gothamites, Grant realizes when he notices how calm they are. The collective reaction seems to throw his father off for a moment, but he continues. Grant feels a flash of second hand embarrassment. "Shouldn't you let the professionals take care of this?"

Robin smiles placatingly, it's got customer service written all over it. "I understand this is an upsetting situation, especially for a tourist, but we have everything handled." He assures.

Slade goes to say something else but Robin doesn't spare him a second glance, pulling out a handful of zip ties from one of the pouches of his belt. He gets to work ridding the men of weapons before tying their hands behind their backs, and then looping more zip ties through those to fix them all firmly together. None of them would be going anywhere anytime soon. He kicks all their guns to a far off corner anyway for good measure, but pockets a hunting knife one of them had been carrying.

"Secured," Robin chirps to whoever is on the other side of his comm, "Where to next?" He rolls his shoulders, resting his hands on his hips. After a moment Robin nods to himself. "Got it, meet you outside."

Grant watches as he heads towards the door, most of the hostages easily following his orders, they stay close together and seem to default to herding the omegas and pups in the middle. He almost gets swept up in it, shielded by the crowd, but then Slade's big hand is on his back bringing him and Joey to the front of the group just behind Robin.

He's shorter than he seemed earlier, when he was looming above Grant, backlit by flashing red lights like a blood soaked angel. He's slimmer without the cape wrapped around him, but with his gaze stuck to the muscle flexing in Robin's thighs he can tell the dark haired boy is stronger than he looks.

Robin leads the way, crouched low and keeping to the wall. The crowd does the same, unusually calm as they gently shush the children and tourists who aren't quiet enough. The implicit trust is breathtaking, the easy way that Robin commands the crowd with a cocksure smile and easy confidence. They only run into trouble once on the way to the exit and Grant barely has time to flinch before him and Joey are both shoved behind dad. Grant strains to see how Robin reacts to the two guards rushing at them but all he can make out is a flurry of movement and flailing limbs. There's the cracking of bone and then Robin's ringing laughter and then the hallway is still and quiet again. Slade's grip on his shoulder is still tight, Joey still pressed to Slades back. Grant nudges forward in time to see Robin securing the unconscious bodies.

He turns back to the crowd, hair a little messy and cheeks a little red but hardly even out of breath, and motions for them to keep going. They do, the group easily parting around the crooks before clustering back together. Like fish, Grant thinks, absently reminded of a trip to the aquarium not long ago.

They all file out in a straight line when they reach the exit, Robin holding the door open and checking behind for any stragglers before breaking away from the group to stand beside Batman. He looks even smaller next to the imposing figure of the Bat, but the cops seem to take his orders seriously.

Grant is pulled away by Slade and he barely realizes where they're going until he hears his mom's voice. She pulls him into a hug, all warm tobacco and vanilla but it almost doesn't register. She pulls Joey in next, peppering his face with kisses and surely staining it with her dark lipstick in the process. Her and Slade are talking about something over his head, but everything sounds like it's underwater. His attention is pulled back to Robin, sitting with some of the younger pups who are having their statements taken, someone's chubby toddler being bounced on his knee. He assumes the man in the nearby ambulance is the child's mother if his intent gaze and round belly are anything to go by.

Without thinking he clutches the fabric around his shoulders tighter. It's heavier than it looks, soft but tough. The outside is plastic-y, like a raincoat, but the inside is silky fabric slips pleasantly over his skin. He feels a tug on it from behind him, tuning back into the immediate conversation.

"Now what is this?" His mother frets.

His mouth opens but he doesn't say anything at first. "Robin gave it to me." He manages, the first thing he's said all night. He clutches the cape tighter, unwilling to let it go. It's a comforting weight, it feels like all that's keeping him on the ground, like if he lets go he'll simply float away.

His mother reaches for his face, tilting towards her. Her eyes are sharp but not angry, studying his expression and the look in his eyes carefully. Whatever she sees makes him purse her lips and glance towards the ambulance. "Oh my baby, you're in shock." She tells him, but the meaning behind the words doesn't register.

"First time getting his shoulder reset, he'll be fine." Slades voice, an attempt to be reassuring. Grant tenses before the words fully compute.

"WHAT!" His mom's voice is loud and shrill enough to make his ears ring and he knows they're going to start a fight.

He's shaking, he realizes, gaze dropping down to the trembling of his good hand where it's resting on her elbow. He doesn't remember moving it. Her skin is warm under his hands, he can feel the way her muscles are tensing as the voices around him raise.

He turns back to Robin, but the boy is already staring at him. At least Grant thinks so, hard to tell where he's looking with the white lenses, but he's facing Grant's direction. His lips are twisted, displeasure or concern maybe, and Grant wants to soothe him but he doesn't know how. Then his head tilts, just slightly, and Grant realizes that Robin had been looking at his parents. He can feel Robin's attention on him fully now, settling over him like sunlight. It's warm and grounding and he can feel his body again. Robin smiles, small and proud and encouraging. A secret just for Grant, to keep and cherish and own. And then Robin is turning, attention maddeningly taken by the others that Grant has just remembered. He feels cold, the kind of cold you feel in the early morning when you've just slipped from your warm blankets, the kind that settles on your skin and then sinks into your bones.

Grant's eyes don't leave Robin until the car pulls away, and as he's craning his neck to catch one last glimpse he sees Robin standing on his tip toes to wave Grant goodbye. He waves back, but the windows are tinted and they're already too far away.

Jason has a secret, and an embarrassing one at that. He knows if anyone ever found out he'd never be able to live it down. Jason doesn't even know how it started really, it's not like he's ever been interested in the latest trends or celebrity gossip.

Jason will blame Rena, because it's easier than analyzing the alternative. Technically it started with a routine hostage situation, but for deflection purposes, it starts with a link to an app that's trying too hard to be Vine. He'd squinted at it, toothbrush still in his mouth, half convinced it was a rickroll.

Jay: Why are you up?

Ren: Why are YOU up?

Jay: I asked you first.

Ren: I messaged you first

Jay: Not how that works.

He had rolled his eyes at the time, finishing up his nightly routine, reluctantly chewing on the multivitamins he's supposed to take every night before bed. The gummies only, never the pills.

Ren: did you watch the video

Jay: I'm not clicking an unknown link, Rena.

Ren: wow full name

Jay is typing...

Ren: Not an excuse for you to use my real full name

Ren: seriously watch the video!!

Jason remembers huffing, he probably put it off till the last second, until he was curled up in bed and on the cusp of finally getting some rest. It's all secondary to the video though, the familiar face split into a wolfish grin, those pretty eyes catching the flash of cameras and sending a wink towards the viewer. It's obviously some kind of rich person event, paparazzi lined up and a carpet laid out on the damn ground, but you wouldn't know it from how the boy is dressed. The orange and blue jacket over the button up would probably make him snort usually, but all he can think about is broad shoulders and warm skin under his hands. Unwarded he remembers what Grant's bare chest looked like, and then the image of strong shoulders wrapped in Jason's cape. He doesn't know how many times he watches the video before the next message comes through.

Ren: isn't he hot?

Jay: Who is he?

Jason already knows of course, but Rena doesn't know that, and he's not keen on informing her. She might start getting ideas.

Ren: Grant Kane, he's some old money CEOs son from New York or something

Jay: And?

Kentucky, Jason corrects mentally, Adeline Kane is from New York but the Wilson family lives in Kentucky.

Ren: I heard his mom is coming to your charity gala next week

Jason's heart skips a beat, teeth sinking into his lip to bite back the giddy grin trying to break through.

Jay: Once again, and?

Ren: And? C'mon when do we get to see new faces at these things? Especially ones as pretty as his!

Jealousy twinges in his chest, churning hotly in his stomach for a moment before he's hit with a flash of guilt.

Jay: oh? You interested

Ren: Pft nah

Ren: this is for you

Ren: my ducks are in a row

Jay: Hurtful, but whatever. I don't even know him. Maybe I don't want that duck in my row.

Ren: Start being real with yourself rn

Ren: I'm coming over tomorrow so we can decide on what you're wearing<333

Usually he matches with Bruce, or Dick if he shows up. He can only imagine what Rena is going to try to talk him into. Technically, Jason is unpresented, even though everyone else his age has already. Most pups present around thirteen, Jason is turning sixteen soon. Leslie says it'll be any day now, that with time, and love, and a steady three meals a day Jason will come into his own in no time. Jason isn't so sure.

Rena herself is a beta, but she's always been a bit of a rule breaker. More so than Jason anyway. She always goes above and beyond with her outfits for these things, with the kind of passion obviously bred from living with the biggest fashion mogul in Gotham. He can only imagine what her plans to play matchmaker are going to entail.

Ren: I've enlisted Eddie to help me

Jason stops, fingers hovering over the keyboard, jaw slack. The indignity! He doesn't need a- an intervention to help him get a date!

Jay: When did you guys even start talking?

Ren: YOU gave me his number

Jay: That was a courtesy! You weren't actually supposed to use it!

Ren: 😜

Jason scowls at his phone. He switches over to his chat with Eddie, certain the omega is still awake watching a terrible obscure movie he's going to tell Jason all about when they see each other again.

Jaybin: I've been betrayed, forsaken, abandoned.

KD: Ok edgelord lmao

Jaybin: STOP laughing I've been the victim of a conspiracy!

KD: Are people on Twitter calling you guys vampires again or do they have something more interesting?

Jaybin: Not that kind of conspiracy.

KD: ???

There's a pause as Eddie stops typing, Jason assumes to go Google it, before his speech bubble pops up again.

KD: Is this about me and Rena wingmanning for you

Jaybin: SO YOU ADMIT TO IT! FIEND! SCOUNDREL!

KD: Weird way to say thank you but okay

Jaybin: I don't need help.

KD: ok well we would LIKE to help

KD: please let us

Jason purses his lips. He hates when Eddie does this. Like he's the one being difficult here. Sometimes he feels like everyone treats him even younger than he is. Just because he hasn't presented doesn't mean he's a baby. He can't wait to be sixteen, hopefully by then he'll know his designation too.

Jaybin: Fine, but I retain full rights to veto anything you pick or any plan you make.

Eddie's response is a gif of a cat doing a happy dance, and though he rolls his eyes he likes the message. He's added to a new chat immediately, one with the three of them in it. Rena sends the video to this new chat, apparently named Operation: HONEYPOT. Jason finds quickly that his lack of admin rights means he can't change it.

He huffs, watching the two messages back and forth. Sending photos he's already seen and telling him information he already knows about Grant. The screen slowly goes dark as his eyes flutter closed, burying his face in the milky hazelnut scent just barely managing to cling to the shirt he's been using as a pillowcase, the MCTC logo pressed against his cheek.

It's a guilty pleasure, he supposes, Grant's smell in his nose as he imagines what his voice sounds like, of Grant pressing into his touch instead of flinching away. He switches to an app easily passing as a calculator, inputting the password without thought to pull up the tracking grid.

He skims over everyone else's - Bruce and Alfred are in the manor, Natalia is in her manor on the boundary of Little Italy and Summerset, Dick's phone is at least in his BludHaven apartment, Barbie is still staying at her dad's house until she gets used to her wheelchair - the one he's looking for is marked with the Robin symbol, blinking steadily, somewhere in Kentucky. The sky is probably clear for him, a star filled sky unobstructed by the pollution of the city. He imagines Grant staring out at the sky, red lip caught between his teeth, thinking about Jason. What he might be doing as he does.

Jason nods off, eyes fluttering shut, matching his breath to the gentle pulse on the screen.

[everytaylorswiftsongisaboutcats]

Once again here I am… clowning…

Do I think Taylor will announce something at the AMA’s?

Why yes, I do.

Am I probably wrong?

Most definitely!

Have I seen this film before?

Of course!

Will I probably do this again?

Yesss!!!

Really the only question left is…

Are we ready for it? …

[cherrycoloredphoenix]

Day 6: Forbidden - Ai Chang, Jia Ziyin, and a life that can never be

-

To tie Ai Chang to him in that way would be like caging a nightingale, damming a mountain stream. It would be keeping all of that beauty and charm and clever mind to himself, dimming its brilliance for anyone else... And eventually, the nightingale would cease its song, and the stream would become foul and stagnant. Better to let things be as they were. But oh, how one could dream.

[brumiramybeloathed]

They Both Leave AU Snippet 9

Bruno dreaded having this conversation. He preferred to not bring up serious issues and would rather quietly change and sweep the issue under the rug without ever bringing it to light. This time... this time is different.

Bruno tried to quietly pull away from Mirabel, tried to not be in physical contact with her, tried to not be as affectionate. Mirabel always looked confused and sad when he did so, however, and some of her mannerisms from the beginning of her stay in Santa Laura returned. Retreating into her room, looking around as if making sure there is no one to criticize her, taking on all the responsibilities of the household. She had noticed his changed behavior and not knowing why he changed had really hurt her. It probably reminded her of her family changing their behavior towards her after her failed ceremony. Mirabel doesn't talk much about the Encanto, neither does he, but she did mention it in passing.

So Bruno took a deep breath and entered the apartment they shared.

"Hey, Bruno! Welcome home from work!" Mirabel greeted him as she put dinner plates on the table.

"Mirabel. Dinner looks good, as it always does."

They sat down and ate in silence. It was awkward and strange, and it distracted Bruno from his thoughts, especially since Mirabel looked so sad.

"Mirabel, I would like to explain why I've been so distant lately."

Mirabel's full attention and stare rested on Bruno's face as he continued, his own eyes dropping to the table, unable to meet Mirabel's.

"Some members of the community have talked with me and made mention of a rumor that you and I are... in a romantic relationship. At first, I did not put stock in these rumors. It... it was only with watching couples in the town and examining our relationship that I noticed that there might be reason for these rumors."

Bruno paused, not knowing how to go forward and not willing to look up.

"While part of our closeness can be explained by the fact that we are family and shared very similar experiences with our family, as well as the fact that we live together, some of it... some of it can't."

"You're worried that the nature of our relationship is outside what is normal for an uncle and niece," Mirabel's soft voice finished the thought he had been struggling to convey.

Bruno nodded.

Mirabel sighed. "Anna mentioned the rumors to me a few days ago. I see the concern, but I truly do not see anything wrong with it. What exactly is leading you to pull away from me?"

Bruno had hoped Mirabel would not ask this. But he cannot tell her the full truth.

"Because I fear that by being as close as we are, we are inviting trouble and the potential desire to go further than long hugs and long glances."

Because he can see it going further and, on some levels, wants it to go further.

"Bruno, please look at me."

He does. Mirabel's eyes are soft, not hard as he feared, and there is both a sadness and a peace on her face, a type of caring look, that makes his breath stutter.

"If it eases your fear, we can cut back on the physical affection. Spend more time apart and with other people. I do not think there is anything to worry about, but I understand wanting to cover all our bases. Thank you for talking with me about this. I know these types of conversations are difficult for you."

A weight is eased from Bruno's shoulders and he smiles for the first time that week.

They finish dinner and clean up. Bruno sits on one end of the couch to read and Mirabel sits on the other to work on a personal project. At the end of the evening, they say goodnight and head to their separate rooms.

Bruno laid down to sleep, satisfied that he has prevented a horrible tragedy of incest and sin and yet...

Bruno fell asleep cold.