#because everyone is so backed up because we are still in the middle of a g.d pannini. a fuxking hot pannus

[cruel-seduction]

James Potter as Your Boyfriend

a/n - I am listening to my romantic playlist on repeat so it might be more cheesy than I intend it to be.

(୨୧) That Infuriatingly Perfect HairJames Potter is the guy who knows his hair is a mess and somehow still uses it as his primary flirting tactic. (Like, sir, did you actually think ruffling your hair would make me swoon? … Okay, maybe a little.) He smirks every time you roll your eyes at him doing it, but the kicker is when you catch him fixing it in a reflection right before seeing you. “Gotta look sharp for my girl,” he says with a wink. (Spoiler: he does not, in fact, look sharp, but you love it anyway.)

(୨୧) The Walking Ego (Who’s Secretly a Softie)He loves to show off in front of you, especially on the Quidditch field. He’ll pull stunts, grinning like he’s the coolest guy in the world, just to hear you cheer his name. (Never mind that he almost fell off his broom that one time; we don’t talk about that.) But when it’s just the two of you, his cocky demeanor drops, and he’s all shy smiles and quiet, “Did you really think I was good out there? Or are you just saying that because you love me?” cue him melting when you reassure him.

(୨୧) His Endless Need for Validation

James is the guy who constantly asks, “Did you see that?!” anytime he does anything remotely impressive, even if it’s just catching a piece of parchment midair. (You could be reading, and he’ll yell, “Love, LOOK!” before performing some ridiculous stunt). He’s a golden retriever in human form, and if you don’t immediately cheer for him, he’ll sulk until you give him a kiss. (You love it, though. Admit it).

(୨୧) His Terrible Jealousy

James acts like he’s the most confident guy alive, but the second someone flirts with you, his ears turn red, and he starts loudly talking about how amazing his girlfriend is. (You: “Subtle, Potter.” Him: “Not subtle, James Potter.”) If you so much as laugh at someone else’s joke, he’ll spend the next hour sulking until you kiss him and say, “No one compares to my idiot.” (He perks up immediately, naturally.)

(୨୧) The Chaotic Pillow Talk

James is that boyfriend who talks nonsense when you’re lying in bed together. One moment, he’s whispering sweet nothings like, “You’re my entire world,” and the next, he’s like, “Do you think Sirius could charm his hair to look like yours? Because I think about it a lot.” (You: “What the actual fuck?” Him: “I’m serious.”) Somehow, you love him more for it.

(୨୧) The Unintentional PDAJames isn’t subtle. At all. He’s the guy who’ll grab your hand in the middle of class, lean over, and whisper, “You look really pretty today,” loud enough for everyone—including Professor McGonagall—to hear. (You’re mortified; he’s grinning like a cat that got the cream.) And when you try to scold him later, he just shrugs and says, “What? I’m not gonna hide how I feel. Everyone should know you’re mine.”

(୨୧) The Emotional ProtectorJames may be a reckless Gryffindor, but when it comes to your emotional well-being, he’s shockingly thoughtful. If you’re upset, he’s the first to notice, even if you try to hide it. He’ll pull you into a quiet corner and say, “What’s wrong, love? You know you can tell me anything.” And if you cry? Oh, this man will hold you so tightly it’s like he’s trying to shield you from the entire world. (He definitely whispers, “I’ve got you, always,” like it’s a solemn vow.)

(୨୧) The Ride-or-Die RomanticJames Potter is the kind of boyfriend who makes you feel like you’re his entire world. He’s got that intense Gryffindor loyalty, and once he’s in love, there’s no turning back. He’ll write you corny notes like, “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m including winning the House Cup in that list.” (They’re signed with little doodles of a stag and a heart because he’s the absolute worst.)

(୨୧) The Over-the-Top Romantic Gestures

He’ll do big, stupidly romantic things, like charming the stars in the Astronomy Tower to spell out your name (Sirius: “You’re disgusting, mate.” James: “Shut it, Pads, she’s the one”). But he’s also the type to leave little notes in your books, like “Marry me?” and “You’re the sexiest witch alive.” (You’ve found many letters in Hogwarts, A History. Yes, you kept them all.)

(୨୧) The Unexpected Vulnerability

Despite all his confidence, James has quiet moments when he doubts if he’s enough for you. “You could have anyone,” he’ll say softly, tracing patterns on your arm. (His voice cracks, and your heart aches). You always pull him close, reminding him that he’s more than enough, and he’ll smile in that shy, boyish way that makes your chest warm. (You: “You’re my James.” Him: “Always.”)

(୨୧) The King of Over-the-Top Gestures

James doesn’t just love you; he worships you. He’s the guy who’ll book out the entirety of Madam Puddifoot’s just to have a private date (you: “James, this is ridiculous.” him: “Ridiculously romantic, you mean”). But he’ll also sit with you on the Quidditch stands, freezing his arse off, just because he knows you like watching the stars after a match.

(୨୧) The Secret Softie

Yes, he’s cocky. But when it comes to you? This man melts. You mention being tired? Suddenly there’s a hot cup of tea waiting for you in the common room. (You: “How’d you know?” Him: “I’m James Potter. I know everything.”) He’d deny it if anyone else asked, but he lives to see you smile. His whole demeanor changes when it’s just the two of you—less bravado, more tenderness. (If you catch him staring at you all lovesick, just know he’s planning your wedding in his head.)

(୨୧) The “I’m Your Biggest Cheerleader” Energy

James will hype you up like his life depends on it. Got an essay due? “No problem, love, you’ve got this!” Need help with a spell? He’ll spend hours practicing with you until you nail it. And when you do, he’s out here clapping like you just won the Quidditch Cup. (Sirius: “Mate, chill, it’s a summoning charm.” James: “IT’S A BIG DEAL, PADFOOT.”) You can’t even be annoyed because the way he beams at you makes your heart flutter every damn time.

(୨୧) The Ego and the Heart to Match

James knows he’s hot—and he’ll never let you forget it. (You: “You’re insufferable.” Him: “You mean irresistible.”) But here’s the kicker: despite his cockiness, he’s never made you feel less than cherished. He’s the type to blow off quidditch practice just to study with you for your OWLs, or charm your quill to write faster when he sees you stressing. (You didn’t even ask. He just noticed.) He may act like the world revolves around him, but you’re the sun he orbits.

(୨୧) The Bravado

This man will not shut up about how good he is at everything—Quidditch, hexes, kissing you senseless against a bookshelf. And the worst part? He’s not wrong. (You: “Cocky much?” Him: “Confident, sweetheart. There’s a difference.”) But then there’s the unexpected softness, like when he presses his forehead against yours after, whispering, “You’re all I’ll ever want.” It’s the mix of arrogance and vulnerability that leaves you completely undone every time. (Yes, you’re ruined. No, you’re not mad about it.)

(୨୧) The “I’d Die for You” Loyalty

James would go to the ends of the earth for you—and you know it. He’s reckless when it comes to protecting you, stepping in front of danger without a second thought. (You: “Stop being so stupidly brave!” Him: “I can’t help it; it’s in the Potter genes. Do you want your kids to have these genes??”) Even in his most infuriating moments, you can’t deny how deeply he loves you. He’s yours, completely and irrevocably, and Merlin, does it feel good to be loved by James Potter.

[fuctacles]

<< 14 | 0 | 16 >>

looking for dog-themed songs for the fic playlist

They sit facing each other on the warmed up concrete, having given away the lawn chairs to the girls. Steve is sliding every piece of onion off his skewer and onto Eddie's plate, which sits right next to his for easy sharing. It reminds him of cafeteria meals and swapping snacks with friends, something he never had with Steve, because of how different they were in high school. It makes him wonder if what he's feeling could really be mutual. 

"Are you staying for the movie?"

His eyes snap back up to meet Steve's, waiting for an answer. 

"I guess so. What are we watching?" It might not be the wisest to keep around while figuring himself out, but what is he going to do? Not spend time with his friends? 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"The jury is still out," he answers dryly. "But I can guess some nerd shit will get majorly outvoted."

Eddie snorts.

"What would you pick? A baseball game?" he asks, chewing on a piece of meat. His fingers are getting greasy, but they forgot to grab napkins and standing up sounds like too much exercise. 

Steve moves the grilled bits on his plate with the now empty skewer. 

"Not really..." he says, all quiet and shy, which immediately grabs Eddie's attention. Wary of the food and drinks between them, he leans in conspiratorially. 

"You can tell me, I ain't a snitch," he reassures, and when Steve looks up, he adds a wink. Steve huffs out an amused breath.

"I like romantic comedies," he admits, watching Eddie warily, like he's awaiting judgement. 

"Huh." He sits back to properly take him in. "That kinda makes sense."

"Yeah?" Steve raises an eyebrow. 

"Yeah." Eddie shrugs, and now he's feeling self-conscious. "It suits you. We could watch something one day, your pick."

Ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods, do not invite Steve for one-on-one romcom watching—!

Steve's face lights up with a wide smile. 

"Oh, I'm going to hold you to that one, Munson," he teases, but it's obvious he's genuinely excited by the offer. 

"Already regretting I said it," Eddie teases back, but offers Steve a strip of bacon so he knows he doesn't mean it. 

Without thinking, he starts licking the grease off his fingers, and it takes him a moment to realize Steve stopped moving. He looks up with a questioning hum, fingertip in his mouth.

"You need a napkin?" Steve asks with a raise of his eyebrows. 

"Nah, I'm good," Eddie mumbles around his finger just to be difficult, and pushes it deeper, sucking with gusto. For once, Steve doesn't look into his eyes, too focused on his mouth. His cheeks are colored the faintest shade of pink, and Eddie finally realizes what he's been doing. He slides his finger out with a wet smack and smiles apologetically. "Sorry. Want me to lick yours too?" he offers, like the good friend that he is. 

Someone nearby chokes, but he's too focused on the bit to check who. Their fault for listening in, right?

Meanwhile, Steve's face turns tomato red. 

"Uh, I'll manage myself. I'm good at licking," he cringes as soon as the worlds leave his mouth, and Eddie almost chokes himself with how hard he laughs.

====

After the party, comes more cleaning. This time, as there's more people and everyone gets forced into using their two hands and opposable thumbs, it goes faster, though with much more complaining.

Sometime in the middle of filling the trash bags, Robin has changed the music. Steve sighs, when the first song plays, but by the next two, his head is nodding to the beat. On the chorus, his hips sway, and Eddie almost drops the plate he's holding. 

"Your song, dingus!" Robin yells when the next song starts, making Steve roll his eyes. But he's shimmying his shoulders and mouthing along to all the lyrics. 

They tie away their bags at the same time, which gives Eddie the misfortune of watching him free his hands and make a silly little dance.

"Well, you ain't never caught no rabbit, you ain't no friend of mine!" he mouths along, and when he catches Eddie staring, he gives him a sheepish smile and a wink.

"Should I find you more dog themed songs to dance to?" he raises his eyebrow with a smile.

"No—"

"Yes!" Robin pops out from behind him, seemingly out of nowhere. "I'm constantly on the look out, but there aren't many good songs. I want to make a playlist." She grins. 

"Oh, I'm in." Eddie smiles back, extending his hand. Their palms slap together, and Steve shakes his head.

"Wow. Traitors." 

"Oh, I'd never betray you, Hound Dog," Eddie declares with a hand to his heart. Steve flips him off.

====

They pick The Battle for Endor, which Steve accepts with a sigh and a quiet "At least it has teddies," something probably only Eddie can hear, since he's sitting right next to him. He starts dozing off halfway through anyway, but Eddie doesn't wake him up until the movie ends and they have to plan how to get the younger lot home. It was a busy day, after all. 

"I'm going home anyway, so I can take them," Nancy offers. 

"Don't be stupid," Steve mumbles in his half-asleep state. "You won't fit them in your car."

"I can get Max and Super Twins," Eddie says, and the grasp around his arm tightens. He looks down at Steve, suddenly awake and frowning.

"You're not staying?" he asks, audibly upset. 

"I'll come back," Eddie reassures him quickly, patting his hand. "Okay! Mad Max, Wonder Twins, grab your shit. The sooner we leave, the closer I am to getting wasted," he commands, gently prying himself out of Steve's grasp. He scratches behind his ear as a consolation. "Should I grab anything while I'm out?"

"No," Steve says quickly, even though Jonathan has already opened his mouth, most probably with a request.

Something twists in Eddie's chest.

"Okay, buddy, I'll be back as soon as I can, no detours," he reassures again, with another scratch. 

"Okay, thanks." Steve closes his eyes briefly, but then blinks them open and pushes at his thigh, like his mind has suddenly cleared from the remnants of sleep. "Be quick, but without breaking the law." He smiles up at Eddie.

"Ugh, fine." He rolls his eyes. "Be right back," he nudges Steve's head before motioning the kids to follow him outside. 

It's suddenly silent, with the movie over and most of the people gone from the room. Steve clears his throat, watching Robin crawl over the carpet to rewind the tape. 

"So only Nancy isn't staying?" he asks, looking around the room. 

"I already told my parents I'm sleeping over." Robin shrugs. 

Jonathan and Argyle look at each other, like they are communicating in a way not dissimilar to Steve and Robin.

"It's good vibes here, man," Argyle says, his hair swaying as he nods. 

"Eddie promised we'll compare the goods," Jonathan adds. 

"Oh, right!" his friend perks up, his eyes sparkling. "Almost forgot about that."

Robin makes a face. 

"God, I really hope you mean the weed," she says. "You think I can still persuade Nancy to come back?"

The boys start snickering, but Steve quickly collects himself to answer her question, no matter how unserious it is. 

"I think she wouldn't be comfortable," he winces, because they all know why. "But I could drive you to hers if you want to?" he offers instead. 

She shakes her head. 

"Nah, just give me a beer and I'll lower my joke standards to yours."

"Okay, you don't have to be mean, Robs," Steve rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. On his way to the kitchen, he tugs on her hair. "Beers for everyone?" He turns to look at each of his remaining guests.

Jonathan nods, but Argyle shakes his head. 

"I don't mix my substances," he says, pulling out a joint out of his pocket instead. 

When Eddie comes back, he makes a beeline upstairs, hoping he hasn't been spotted. He doubts his van hasn't been heard, her old-lady coughs being a part of her charm, but maybe he was stealthy enough inside not to be traced. 

But once he's back down he realizes how foolish that thought was. Because somehow, Steve is ridiculously attuned to him and has his eyes on Eddie immediately, like he's been expecting him. A cold bottle of beer is pressed into his hand when he sits back in the seat that's been waiting for him. 

"Dropped some stuff upstairs, since I'm sleeping over again," he explains quietly without prompting, his nervousness making him yap unnecessarily, as usual. "Uh, are we bunking together too, or...?" It was probably stupid of him to assume, considering there are more people in the house today that need a place to sleep. 

Considering his own freak out this morning. 

"Of course," Steve says with a smile that tells him no other option had crossed his mind. "Unless you don't want to?" he cocks his head, almost like he's tilting curious, pointed ears. "I promise to wear pants this time." 

Jonathan chokes on his beer, and when Eddie snaps his head that way, Argyle gives him a supportive smile and that weird surfer gesture, while patting Jon on the back.

He hopes the dim light of the room hides the flush of embarrassment on his face. 

"Well, since you promise to be decent, how could I say no?" he says, rolling his head back to Steve. 

Steve, who gives him a relieved, dazzling smile, and presses their thighs together, flooding his whole body with warmth.

It's terrifying, how good it feels. 

tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86 @ollyxar @estrellami-1

@stevesworldxx @ajeff855 @live-laugh-love-dietrich @thelittleclare @wheneverfeasible

@bumblebeecuttlefishes @blasvemous @phantomcat94 @n33dlew0rk @manliest-of-muppets

@ravenfrog @dreamercec @tartarusknight @eyehartart

[airybcby]

HIYAA i really wanted to send a request for your more than married event 😛 can i request Karasu and 🍑🍦thank you xx

HEYYY!! ofc !

a karasu tabito peachy ice cream :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you can hear it in the silence

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — karasu tabito x gn! reader, gn! reader, best friends to lovers, nickname like 'babe' used (once), they are the silliest billies, flirting, oblivious friends to lovers

♡ synopsis — karasu tobito had always just been your best friend, but could this program change that?

When you stepped into the apartment for the marriage simulation, the last person you expected to see lounging on the couch was Karasu Tabito.

He looked up from his phone, his signature smirk appearing the moment he saw you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s my lucky partner.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Tabito? You’re in this program?”

“Surprised?” he teased, leaning back like he owned the place. “What can I say? I thought I’d add ‘model husband’ to my list of talents.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your bag down. “Yeah, that’s a real stretch.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. It was so him—effortlessly charming, with just a hint of mischief.

You and Karasu had been friends for years, ever since middle school. He was the kind of person who lit up every room he walked into, his confidence and humor making him impossible to ignore.

But while most people saw only his cocky, carefree exterior, you knew there was more to him than that. You’d seen him at his lowest, too—nursing injuries, doubting himself, pushing harder than anyone else to chase his dream.

And now, here you were, thrown into a “marriage” with him.

“What are the odds?” he said, still grinning as you unpacked.

“Apparently higher than I thought,” you muttered, trying not to think too hard about how small the apartment was—or how close you’d be to him for the next few weeks.

At first, it wasn’t much different from hanging out as friends.

Karasu made it easy, cracking jokes and treating the whole thing like some elaborate prank. “You know,” he said one evening while you cooked dinner, “we could totally mess with the other couples. Pretend we’re, like, madly in love or something. Really sell it.”

You snorted. “You think you can pull that off?”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d wounded him. “I’m offended. I’m very convincing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

Without missing a beat, he turned to you, his expression shifting into something softer, more serious. “Babe,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re the only one for me.”

You froze, heat rushing to your face. “Okay, stop,” you said, shoving him lightly.

He laughed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

As the days went on, the lines between “pretend” and “real” started to blur.

It was in the little things—how he always made sure your coffee was exactly how you liked it, or how he stayed up late to help you with the program’s assignments, even when he didn’t have to.

And then there were the moments you couldn’t ignore, like the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, or how his teasing felt less like a joke and more like a test.

You tried to brush it off. After all, this was Karasu. He flirted with everyone.

But then one night, everything changed.

It was late, and the two of you were sitting on the couch, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “This whole thing. I’m glad it’s with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Tabito…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I know I act like an idiot sometimes, but…you mean a lot to me. More than I probably let on.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you telling me this now?”

He laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’m tired of pretending it’s not true. And because I’m an idiot who doesn’t want to lose his best friend without at least trying.”

“Trying what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with something raw and unguarded. “This. Us. Whatever this could be.”

You kissed him first.

It wasn’t planned, and it definitely wasn’t part of the simulation. But the moment your lips met, everything else faded away—the program, the rules, the fear of ruining your friendship.

It was just you in this moment, save for the little point total displayed in your living room going up by 10 points.

For the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

The program ended a week later, and you both stood outside the apartment, staring at the door as if crossing that threshold would change everything.

“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What now?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. “Now we figure it out.”

He grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Good. Because I’m not letting you get rid of me that easily.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

Whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together.

GOD I LOVE HIM

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[lovebunnie]

Viktor did not know the first time he wanted to kiss Jayce.

It was hard to keep track of all the moments because of just how many there were. Jayce was a very easy person to want to kiss, with his handsome looks and incredible mind, paired with a strong work ethic and kind heart. Viktor suspected almost everyone Jayce met in his life had wanted to kiss him atleast once.

Jayce did not seem too interested in this fact, based on the amount of time he spent in the lab right next to Viktor. Their partnership did not allow for many relationships outside of a scientific purpose; it just so happened that Viktor really liked Jayce not only as a partner but also in general, just as a person.

So really, there were far too many times to count where he felt compelled to grasp his face in his hands and press their lips together. Some nights, Viktor would imagine Jayce running into the lab with great news of a secured deal or more grant money and just plant one right on his lips without thinking, before dashing to his desk while still chirping and leaving Viktor gasping.

He thought of a scenario where he found himself in the forge one night, just the two of them in the entire building, and like something out of a trashy novel, a shirtless and sweaty Jayce would pull him in by his hips and kiss him slowly and sensually before the rest of the daydream turned into something... else.

Once Viktor and Jayce were in the midst of a heated argument about how to conduct an experiment with or without proper precautions in place, and Jayce stood up and walked towards Viktor. He thought in that moment that Jayce was going to find a less conventional way of shutting him up and before he could articulate if that would've worked or pissed him off even further, Jayce had walked out the door. The next day he came back with an apology and they moved on stronger than before.

Viktor was almost embarrassed by how badly he wanted to kiss Jayce. He thought of how much he wanted to know just how Jayce would kiss, he wanted to see that side of Jayce and keep it all to himself. Viktor had Jayce in the lab but he wanted more.

When it happened, VIktor and Jayce were on long night number six. Days had passed since either of them had left the lab longer than it took to take a shower and brush their teeth. They could feel the edges of discovery brushing their fingertips, so close to a revelation.

"Only Piltovians would get bored of the ability for humans to fly," Viktor murmured as he adjusted a screw on the bottom of their anti-gravity contraption. "Why they needed something portable is beyond me."

"Now is kind of a bad time to start complaining, V," Jayce replied as he worked on finalizing the welding components. "This is going to work this time, it has to work-"

"It will work," Viktor emphasized. "And if it doesn't, we try again."

"If it doesn't I'm cracking open that bottle of wine I know you keep-"

Suddenly, the room was flooded with vibrant blue that had the both of them scrambling backwards. While before, the hexcrystals made the entire room weightless, now everything remained as it was with only Viktor's wrench floating in the middle, suspended in mid air. It was flying. It worked.

Jayce picked himself off the ground where he has fallen back and pushed his goggle up to his forehead. "Holy shit, V, it worked!"

Viktor removed his goggles as well, mesmerized by the suspension of an object isolated within their own chamber. The blue of the hexcrystal had died down and left the room in a cool glow, and Viktor felt a smile tug at his lips. "This is.. incredible."

"Oh my god, it actually finally worked. I need to write down everything we did, what kind of screws did you use? What is the temperature of the room, what runes did we use?"

As Jayce rambled on, Viktor stood up and took in his frantic energy. His hands were moving quickly and his eyes were searching for his notebook while he paced the room like he couldn't sit down. His hair was disheveled from the times he ran his hand through it in frustration and his eye bags were getting more and more pronounced. His face was leaner and exhaustion draped over him like a blanket. Objectively, Jayce looked kind of like shit.

Viktor felt a spark in his chest, he couldn't look away.

When Jayce made his way back in front of Viktor, he smiled warmly. "This is such a huge relief, I was really starting to get concerned that we were going to have to completely start over, but now we can start with trials and-"

As Jayce spoke, the spark grew and grew until Viktor could ignore it no longer. He pulled Jayce down mid sentence and pressed his lips to his, locking them together.

Viktor's hands cradled the sides of Jayce's face, keeping him in place while Viktor pressed his lips harder and tilted his head ever so slightly. It felt right, for the first time in a long time. Viktor was used to not feeling included but in this moment it felt like it was meant to happen. Their kiss was always going to happen in the wake of discovery, how could it not?

A few seconds passed before Viktor gently pushed Jayce back, their breaths shared in the close space. Jayce was silent, and Viktor began to quietly worry that maybe Jayce did not feel like this moment was perfect to him. The thought devastated him; there would be nothing crueler than losing Jayce as a friend.

Viktor took a step back as he looked away. "I'll get started on those trials, we can start with the screws to see if-"

In that moment, Jayce reached out and pulled Viktor back towards him, connecting their lips again in a kiss. One hand made its way to the nape of Viktor's neck while the other held his jaw gently. This second kiss was dynamic and Viktor found himself getting lost in the motions. In all the day dreams he had, he never thought to imagine that Jayce would want to kiss him back this badly, this fervent need to claim his mouth. Their partnership truly knew no bounds.

Before things could get more heated, they broke apart once more and Jayce pressed his forehead to Viktor's with a gentle laugh. "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

"What a coincidence," Viktor purred as he tugged Jayce in again. "So have I."

[graveyardgremlins]

WIP ALERT WIP ALERT

What makes death so special that everyone seems so scared to talk about it? It is not as if, in this universe, it’s the end of the line. Not really. If anything, it felt more like the beginning of something.

Now, routine feels like the end of it all. Even when you’re a vigilante and everyday is a surprise, it still feels like slowly withering away. Like, if you stop moving you’re going to start rotting on the spot. But for some reason, people love routine and hate death.

Dick, for example, constantly looks terrified. It’s not obvious, as no feeling in our faces is ever obvious, but I can tell it’s there. He once said, mournfully, that we would bury Bruce like he is now, with jet black hair. The thought upset him, but I still don’t understand why. It’s not as if Bruce cares. Sometimes it feels like he is trying to speed up the process.

And sure, it would suck not to be able to see someone you care about ever again. But if Dick truly is so scared of missing Bruce, he can go knocking on Constantine’s door — or Zatanna’s, or Madame Xanadu’s, or Doctor Fate’s, or Jason Blood’s, or… you get my point — and ask for a seance. Besides, it’s not as if you can say the guy wasted his life. No one on this Earth has more accomplishments under his belt than Batman himself.

So why the long face?

Like, sure I get why they look weird every time I bring up my past death. I was a kid and all that. But they seriously need to stop looking at me like I’m planning to kill myself everytime I bring up my future death. I’m not planning to die any time soon, but what if I do? Are they going to lose their shit again?

I mean, Tim literally cloned his best friend as a manner to bring him back from the dead because he couldn’t cope with him being gone. Not to say I’m terribly worried about the Imposter missing me so much as to clone me, but still. What if I die? Are they going to try to bring me back? Because I don’t think I want that.

Death was easy, you know? It was awful up until the point where it wasn’t. I don’t remember much, but I remember being warm and embraced. And then someone dragged me back screaming and kicking. Then I woke up boiling alive, with the skin falling off my bones in the middle of the Assassin’s League Headquarters.

I’m not particularly excited about being boiled alive again.

No one in this family knows how to let go and Bruce is the worst one. I used to be so mad that his grief wasn’t enough to make him kill the Joker. I wanted him to prove that he loved me like he said he did. But I was a recently deceased and resurrected teenager. I firmly believe that the only reason Jesus reacted better to being murdered is because he was already thirty three. Now, as an adult, I’m less mad.

Bruce deals with grief like this: he doesn’t. He lets it eat him away. I think he likes it, the feeling of rotting from the inside out. Maybe that’s why he likes routine too. I think he has a lot of love inside of him that, instead of showing it, he reschedules it. Like he thinks ��tomorrow I’ll show it” and then never does. And when I died, maybe he didn’t have anywhere to put that love anymore. There wouldn’t be any more “tomorrows.” So he just rotted.

It’s why I try not to be jealous about how endlessly patient and affectionate he is with Damian. Or how careful he is with Tim. Or how much interest he takes in everything Duke does. Or how he always listens when Steph talks. Or how he always comes when Cass calls him. At least, I served to teach him a lesson. 

So, yeah, when I got an invitation to a Ghost Ball, I didn’t tell anyone. Because they don’t understand why I linger in the cemetery. They don’t understand why I kill, when they believe I should be the first one to be against death. They don’t understand why I keep talking about dying over and over and over. They just don’t get it.

Also, they would totally ruin this moment for me. I’m sure of it.

How many times do you get invited to a ball? Not those shitass galas the Waynes always go to. A real authentic 1800’s ball. With the lettering cursive invitation, sprayed with some kind of perfume, sealed with a gold wax coat of arms. Not only that! To what was an official celebration to the Ghost King’s 21th birthday.

I didn’t even know there was a Ghost King!

Sure, it’s probably a trap. This kind of thing is always a trap. But they had addressed the invitation to “The Red Knight of Gotham, Avenger of the Damned, Cursebreaker, Three Times Born, Wielder of the All-Blades, the Darkest Star” and, if I am to be honest, flattery will get you everywhere with me.

I’m not entirely sure what the “Darkest Star” was in reference to, but it’s the least of my concern. The theme of the ball was Black, White and Neon Green, which completely fucks up my aesthetic. The last time I wore green I was a Robin and I’m particularly inclined to never wear it again. I’m also not wearing a tuxedo. Maybe a black suit over the armor instead of the usual jacket and a neon green handkerchief.

Now the problem is getting fitted for a suit like that. Every rich motherfucker knows that just sending your measurements to a tailor that never met you in person before is the recipe for a disaster. And sure as hell there is not a single tailor in the Crime Alley. Not that I know of. And there is no way in hell, or heaven or wherever the flying fuck the Infinity Realms were, I’m showing up to a real ball looking anything short of dreamy.

So, I did the reasonable thing and texted Alfred.

If you could come by the Manor, Master Jason, I will see what can be done. He texted back.

There is a theory going around the midst of superheroes that says that the one thing all of the bats have in common is how stubborn we are. It’s true, but I don’t think we learned that from Bruce. I’m pretty sure that’s just the Pennyworth in all of us. That man clearly only still works as a butler at 65 and calls us all “master”, “miss”, “mister” and “ma’am” out of pure stubbornness. I have no evidence of this, but I’m working on the theory that someone at some point betted that he would crack eventually, which is why he hasn’t. That I know of.

So, I showed up at the Manor like he asked me to.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tim asked.

“I live here,” I answered.

“No, you don’t.”

“Unless someone touched my room, which I doubt, then yes, I do.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Last week. I dropped by to move all your furniture 1 inch to the left counterclockwise.”

“I knew it! I knew someone was touching my stuff! Steph said I was crazy!”

“You are, but I touched your stuff. Like all of it. Including your Monster collection. You should really clean that, by the way. It’s disgusting.”

“Fuck you.”

Someone cleaned their throat and we both turned around to see Alfred standing in the hallway, looking less than impressed. I’m pretty sure we learned that from him too.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Tim said.

Alfred sighed and then turned his frown towards me.

“What? I didn’t curse.”

He raised one pointed eyebrow and that’s all it took.

“Sorry for touching your stuff, Timberlake,” I said and turned to Alfred again. “Happy?”

“I suppose that will suffice.”

“Yeah, fine,” Tim agreed and moved out of the way to let me in. “Just never do it again.”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing it again.”

“Why?!”

“Dick told me to stop whining and start getting on that, and I quote, ‘big brother grind’, so you and the Demon brat are going to have to endure it.”

“Why not Duke?”

“He is obviously my favorite.”

Tim just groaned and followed us to one of the upstairs closet.

“What are we doing anyway?”

“We are doing nothing. You weren’t invited.”

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit,” Alfred said, ignoring me.

“Why?” Tim asked.

“What are you? A Toddler? Why do you think?”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t going to the galas—”

“Damn right, I won’t.”

“And you’re definitely not going on a date—”

“Wait, why?”

“Because.”

I turned around to fully face him. “What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Just because,” Tim made a vague gesture with his hand. “You know.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I don’t know.”

“You know,” He gestured again. “Because.”

“Because what?”

“You’re chronically single.”

“What?!”

Tim threw himself on one of the sofas that was turned towards the closet and sank into it. “Chronically single. Chronically, meaning in a persistent and recurring—”

“I know what chronically single means!”

“Then you know.”

“I’m not chronically single!”

“How long ago was your last relationship and how long did it last?”

“That does not mean I’m chronically single! I get bitches all the time!”

“Perhaps, Master Jason, refraining from referring to your partners in a demeaning manner might be the first step to improving your romantic aptitudes.”

“I don’t– I’m not– Ugh!”

“Try this suit on. I think it will be the closest to your current measurements.”

I took the suit from his hand and closed the closet door behind me.

“So,” Tim said, “If you’re not going to a gala, you’re not going to a date, then where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s not a birthday, because I’m pretty sure none of your friends is an Aquarius–”

He kept talking and I tuned him out. The pants were a bit too tight around the knees, so they would have to fix that, and the jacket sleeves were a little too short. Besides that, I liked the red lining inside, as well as the flower pattern that almost disappeared into the black. It wasn’t very on the theme, and I would risk looking a bit christmassy, but it would be worth it. I did need a neon green handkerchief, though.

“It can’t be Two-Face, because he is still in Arkham and also not your usual target. Black Mask has been quiet, so maybe him,” Tim was, somehow, still talking.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, opening the closet door to let Alfred take a look.

“People you might be planning to make a move against in a place where a suit might be necessary.”

“Maybe I just want a suit, ever thought of that?”

“You’re fitting it over armor,” Tim pointed out.

“Touché.”

“Tt, it’s too tight around your knees,” Alfred commented.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Oh, Alfred? Do you by any chance have a neon green handkerchief?”

Alfred made a face. “I do not own any monstrosity of that sort, Master Jason. Why do you ask?”

“Because the theme is Black, White and Neon Green.”

“Wait, you’re actually crashing a party?”

Alfred sighed and made another disgusted face. “In that case… This suit won’t do.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I didn’t write the dress code.”

“Of course not, Master Jason. I would expect that you would have a better sense for fashion than that.”

“And for your information, I’m not crashing a party. I was invited. Not that you know what that’s like, Stalker.”

“Who would invite you to anything?!”

“Not telling.”

“C’mon!”

“Perhaps the Zegna will look less… clown-like with a neon green handkerchief than the Armani,” Alfred said, mostly to himself.

“Did I hear, Armani?” Selina’s honey-dripping voice came from the corridor, and she poked her head inside the room. “What are you boys doing hiding here?”

“I’m getting fitted for a suit.”

“He is going to a party and I’m trying to figure out which one,” Tim answered at the same time as me.

“Oh! That sounds fun! Do you need help, Alfred?” She asked and slid into the sofa next to Tim.

“I’m afraid I am at a loss, Miss Kyle. The theme of the evening is Black, White and, ugh, Neon Green.”

She made a face very much like Alfred’s own. “Where are you going, Kit Kat? The Riddler’s birthday isn’t until July.”

“Not telling you, either.”

She pouted and pulled Tim’s face near her own, he understood what she was doing a minute later and pouted too. “Please?” They said, like children.

“Nope. Not happening.”

Selina shrugged it off, not particularly bothered, but Tim seemed to still be fixated on the issue. 

“Have you tried that Slim-fit Hugo Boss brown suit, Alfred? I think it will make him look distinguished amongst the neon green aberration,” she said.

“Is it a winter party of some kind?” Tim asked.

“Not giving you any tips, Timmy.”

“Actually, Master Jason, that could help us find a better suit.”

I sighed. “I don’t think it is specifically a winter party. I think it's just a coincidence.”

“So it is a celebration of some kind!”

“I’m. Not. Telling. You.”

“No need. I will find out eventually.”

Alfred brought out the Hugo Boss brown suit and held it up for Selina to see. 

“I think it will clash, Miss Kyle,” he said.

“I think you’re right, Alfred,” She tapped one manicured finger to her lips. “This party is not of someone we know. Is it, Kit Kat?”

I shrugged.

“Why do you say that, Selina?” Tim asked.

“Motherly instincts.”

The door behind them opened again, this time to reveal a mildly disgruntled looking Bruce. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a sweater and sweatpants. He was definitely sick.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Are you sick, old man?”

He sniffed. “Seasonal allergies.”

“Jason is getting fitted for a suit,” Selina answered.

“Oh?”

“And I’m trying to find out why.”

“Oh.”

“You guys are nosy,” I said.

Alfred brought out another slim-fit suit and both Selina and Bruce made a face. “Yes, I imagined so,” Alfred said, disappointed.

“What kind of party is it, chum?”

“Not telling.”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green,” Selina said, and both her, Alfred and Bruce grimaced.

“Jason, please tell me you’re not going to the Riddler’s birthday party.”

“Of course, he isn’t, silly. The Riddler’s birthday is July 21st.”

“Oh! Should I send a present?”

“It would be very polite,” Alfred said and Selina agreed.

“If this party is of someone we don’t know then it must be someone you met recently or a very long time ago. But if it was from someone you used to know, you probably wouldn’t be using an expensive suit, and if it was someone new we would have heard of it already,” Tim said.

“What makes you think it is someone we don’t know?” Bruce asked.

Selina raised her hand with a cheeky smile. “If we knew them already, little Kit Kat wouldn’t be so worried about imprrrressing them. We would have embarrassed him already.”

“I’m not worried about impressing anyone.”

“You’re getting fitted for a suit,” she pointed out.

“Yes, because I outgrew all my other suits and I can’t wear them with the armor. It’s not as if I’m buying a new one,” I rolled my eyes.

“If you’re wearing your armor are you worried about being attacked?” Bruce asked.

“Is it a mission then?” Tim asked. “Otherwise, why would you be going to a place where you might be attacked?”

“Good point, champ.”

“I’m not answering any of those questions.”

Bruce pondered for a second. “Have you tried the gray Kiton wool suit? It might null a bit of the neon green.”

“Ooh. Good idea, love.”

“Let’s see if you’re correct, Master Bruce.”

“I’m texting Dick to see if he knows anything.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Father, have you seen Alfred Jr?” Damian’s voice rang from the corridor.

“Not really, Dami.”

“He is probably in that warm spot in the library where the sun hits just right,” Selina said and stretched as if she could feel the warmth from here.

“Thank you, miss Kyle,�� Damian poked his head inside. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome, Damian.”

“I live here.”

“Do you?” Bruce asked.

“Do you?” Damian asked, fully walking into the room.

You see? This is why I can’t tell them anything about this ball. Or else they will want to come with, they are nosy like that, I’d have to explain to every cute person I meet why I brought my entire family with me when the invitation didn’t even have ‘plus one’ on it.

Jesus, maybe Selina was right.

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit, Master Damian,” Alfred said and held the gray wool suit.

“Yeah, that doesn’t do it either,” Selina said.

“What is wrong with the suit?”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green.” Everyone grimaced at that. They really needed to stop repeating the same thing over and over.

“What is the occasion?”

“Kit Kat won’t tell us.”

“Nope.”

“I’ve talked to Dick!” Tim announced. “He has no idea who could be, but his best guest is someone Jason met with the Outlaws! So I’m going to text Cass, so she can text Artemis and see if she was invited to anything.”

Damian sat on the opposite arm of the sofa and pondered.

“How much have you narrowed it down?”

“Someone we don’t know, someone dangerous, possibly on a mission, not a winter party,” Bruce said.

“Birthday?”

“No gift.”

“Maybe it’s someone I don’t know enough to buy a gift to,” I said, just to throw them off.

The three of them narrowed their eyes at me.

“Yup, talked to Artemis. She doesn’t know anything,” Tim said. “Also Dick is calling.”

He put it on speaker so everyone could suffer together.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hey, chum.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, birdie.”

“Sup?”

“Jesus Christ,” I rubbed my temples. I could feel a migraine coming up.

“Jason! The man, the myth, the legend! Will you tell your big bro where exactly you’re going? I promise to keep it a secret.”

“Not even on your deathbed.”

Alfred brought out another suit. It was also gray and it still did not match neon green.

“C’mon, Little Wing! Don’t be like that! It can be that bad for us to know.”

“It’s out of principle.”

“That reminds me,” Tim said. “Dick, go screw yourself.”

Alfred made a face at that, but didn’t comment anything.

“Wait, why? What did I do?”

“Why did you tell Jason to ‘act like a big brother’? He touched all of my stuff!”

“I’m sure he didn’t touch all of it.”

“Oh, I didn’t look under the bed, but besides that? It will be very funny when you start finding the glitter.”

“What?!”

“Ah, is that why Jon found a lot of superboy merch I did not buy in my closet?” Damian asked. “Well, I must say that is not a good prank. I’m not embarrassed to say I’m my best friend’s biggest fan. Though, he did cry.”

“You say that now, because you haven’t found the bees.”

“What bees?”

I simply smiled. This wouldn’t work on most of my siblings, but Damian was small enough to be fooled and once he believed it, the others would follow.

“I swear to God, Jason. If I find glitter on my clothes I’m putting a skunk inside your house,” Tim said.

There was also no glitter, but now he would check everything first. Forever.

“Why would you do that to a poor innocent animal?” I said, to be contrary.

“Yeah, Tim. Leave the animals alone! It’s not their fault Little Wing started a prank war.”

“Yes, Drake. I’m disappointed you’d even think about this.”

Alfred brought out a deep blue suit. Selina sighed and slumped down the sofa and Bruce shook his head.

“Hey, Dick,” I asked. “Do you have any suits that might fit me and that will look good with neon green?”

“Why do you ask? Don’t tell me Poison Ivy is your plus one.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“Poison Ivy is light green, not neon,” Tim said.

“And Ivy is too old for you,” Bruce said, pointedly. I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t think I’d have anything either way.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone considered, perhaps the color neon green or perhaps Poison Ivy.

“I figured it out!” Damian shouted suddenly. Selina flinched from the noise, and he apologized quickly. “Sorry. But I have figured it out.”

“What?” Everyone asked. I wasn’t particularly worried, it’s very hard for the little brat to have known about a King I wasn’t even aware of. Though, maybe Ra’s did know it before me.

“Regular-fit Dark Grey Virgin Wool Serge from Hugo Boss,” Damian said profoundly.

“What?” Tim asked.

“The suit that will go with neon green.”

Alfred, Selina and Bruce thought it out. “Yes, I believe that might work, Master Damian.”

“Good job, son,” Bruce said, making my insides twist painfully.

Selina simply raised her hand over Tim’s head so Damian could high five her.

“That still doesn’t answer where he is going!”

“Who would do a Neon Green party? Besides the Riddler, his birthday isn’t until July.”

“How do you even– No, actually, I don’t want to know. Thanks for the help, Demon Brat.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell us where you’re going.”

Fair enough. “To a birthday party,”

“Goddammit! It was the first thing I crossed off!”

“Of whom?”

“None of your business, old man.”

“C’mon, tell us Little Wing.”

“What are we trying to find out?” Duke asked, walking into the room. “And why is everyone here?”

“Jason is going to a birthday party and he won’t tell us who's is jt,” Tim said.

“Oh?”

“And I’m getting a suit fitted.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll tell you whose birthday it is later.”

“Hey!”

“Wait, why?”

“Yes, why him?”

“Oh, Duke is my favorite.”

Duke smiled innocently at all the people in the room and did a little twirl.

“That’s not fair!”

“Hey, this is your fault. You told me to be an older sibling.”

“Older siblings don’t pick favorites!”

“Of course they do. Damian is your favorite, I’m Cass’ favorite, Duke is my favorite, and Tim is no one’s favorite.”

“Screw you!”

“Don’t worry. When Bruce adopts another one you can be their favorite.”

“I’m not adopting anyone.”

Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow at that — yet another thing they got from Alfred — and Selina patted his hand. “Whatever you say, love.”

Alfred fitted the suit perfectly, to the point where that one guy on twitter that talks about male clothing would applaud. And he did find a neon green handkerchief, though he would only buy it if I promised to burn it afterwards, which I swiftly agreed to. I considered bringing a present, but something I learned from the filthy rich is that it’s always better to look like an asshole rather than a fool.

And so the suit saga ends and the ball saga begins.

One would think that an interdimensional being called the Ghost King would think of better ways to direct his guests towards his party than a set of coordinates and another number, which I quickly realized to be the hour in military time. Of course, one would be wrong. So me, my bike, my beautiful suit and my weapons directed ourselves to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, literally in the middle of Nevada's desert.

God, I am going to arrive at this party covered in sand.

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 26. Stepping Up

Summary: The final part of Squad Battles is here, but an obstacle has been thrown their way. Can Third Squad step up and deliver the win they need?

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Support Me

The calm before the storm. Within the hour, this place would descend into chaos as we prepared to defend this temporary outpost from Garrick and his squad. I had no doubt they’d throw everything they had at us. And I wanted them to, because we were ready to do the same.

The calm doesn’t last, Bodhi bursting out of the tent he’s sharing with Xaden, a piece of parchment clutched tightly in his hand. He starts towards the tent I’m allocated to, but he stops as his head pivots to the side he see’s me perched on the barrel I’d climbed onto. He rushes over to me, holding out the parchment to me.

”We’re alone.” He tells me as he rushes over.

”What do you mean alone?” I ask, taking the parchment he holds out to me.

*A change of plans.

Your leadership are gone, and so are your dragons.

Have fun.*

Of course they would throw us a curveball last minute. No leadership and no dragons meant we all had to rely on working together, using our strengths to our advantage. They probably want us to scramble and panic, see which squads fall apart without their leadership. I’m relieved when I reach out, still feeling the pull of power from Proth. But there’s a very solid shield I am unable to break through and communicate to him through. Seems he was fully on board with taking part in the Squad Battle.

”Go get everyone up.” I tell Bodhi, folding up the parchment as I hand it back to him.

He doesn’t even blink an eye as he pockets the parchment, nodding before running off to get everyone up. I turn back and scan the forest and horizon, unable to see anyone on foot or a dragon in the sky. Hopefully the attacking squads were also suffering the same disadvantage as us. And with no dragons on the horizon and probably less than an hour till they were on us, I felt confident we would all be on level ground.

Within minutes everyone is awake and standing in the centre of the outpost, everyone geared up and ready to go.

”So what’s the plan Dahlia?” Bodhi asks, smiling at me with a cheeky grin.

”Me? We have plenty of third years.” I say as I gesture to the third year standing across from me, all of which smirk and shake their heads at me.

”You’re an Aetos.” A third year called Han says as he steps forward.

”That doesn’t mean anything.” I tell him sternly with a pointed gaze.

He shrugs. “You might think it doesn’t but we’ve all seen you fight and fly, and you always know the right questions and things to say in Battle Brief. Hell you school half us third years in that class.”

”He’s right.” Liz says, smiling up at me. “You were made for this. You’ve been trained for this your whole life.”

If only they knew. I only got half the training that Dain did. Yes I still had teaching and training my father provided, but I know Dain got a great deal more than me. The rest I taught myself.

”So what’s the plan?” Austin says with a smirk, ganging up on me with the others who all nod their head in agreement.

”We stick to the plan we made last night. It’s good and solid if we all work together. We might have lost our dragons but we can still get some height advantage to see when they’re coming. One of you on each corner in a tree should do the job.” I tell them, gesturing to the four corners of the outpost. It wasn’t very big, so we should be able to see where they were coming from. My best guess would be the direction Basgiath was in.

”What about the flag?” Bodhi asks, nodding to the flag that was mounted in the middle of the clearing we were in.

On top of defending the outpost, once a horn was heard we had to take the flag to our designated spot to call for aid. Our outpost without a dragon was a good half hour run from here. I knew it had seemed too close yesterday when we had scouted the area. Should have been my first clue that they were going to spring something on us. I scan the group, trying to remember all our signets. There was a few I wasn’t sure on, but as my eyes land on Han, a third year in our squad, and I know exactly what we need to do.

”When the time comes, I need you to meet me at the flag.” I say pointing to Han who nods back at me. “For now go get something to eat and take your spots. We won’t have long.”

Everyone nods before rushing to grab something to eat and prepare for the fight ahead. If Second Squad had Garrick we would be at a disadvantage. We’d only just gotten on better terms, but it was clear he was skilled when it came to warfare. And if Xaden was anything to go off last night, we were going to have our work cut out for us.

”We’ve got this, right?” Bodhi asks as he scans the horizon I’d been watching earlier.

I nod. “If we stay calm, stick to the plan, we can do this.”

”And what if they have dragons and leadership?” He questions, knowing as well as I that if they do we have no chance.

”They won’t have dragons. Too much of an advantage and too much risk of death. They’d wipe out half the Quadrant in a matter of hours.” Which he seems to agree with as he nods again.

”That doesn’t rule out leadership though. You’re good, but Garrick is another level. If he’s here and he knows we don’t have Xaden-”

”Then we don’t let him know. We act as if he is here.” I tell him, cutting him off.

Bodhi looks at me like he’s not convinced, but it’s the only plan we’ve got. And I would do anything to make sure we get that win.

Around me grunts and cries carry around the outpost. So far we’d defended our outpost perfectly. Luckily we had the foresight last night to lay a few traps and obstacles on the ground around the outpost. Either Xaden already knew what was happening, or he just prepared for everything. Either way we were thankful for the idea. It had done wonders at keeping them away. Because just like us they didn’t have their dragons, and there was no sign of any leadership for their Squad. But that didn’t mean they weren’t here, watching and waiting.

But I knew Garrick, if he was here he would be in the thick of it. He’d be down there in the middle of the fight that was taking place between the majority of our squads. In the distance the horn sounds, meaning we now needed to move our flag. I launch my last arrow, knocking someone in the shoulder, sending them stumbling back.

“Go, I’ve got this.” Bodhi calls out as he rushes over to me spot.

I nod before turning and rushing over to the flag, Han rushing over to the point with another third year I think is called Lee. I rarely saw one without the other.

”So what’s the plan?” Han asks excitedly.

”You can turn invisible right?” I ask him, Han nodding in response as he furrows his brow.

I reach up, taking down the flag and passing it to him. ”Ok, now I have no idea what you’re planning.” Han says, looking at me like I’ve gone crazy.

”You are going to use your signet to turn invisible while you follow me up to the tower.” I tell him as I pull out a piece of a tent I’d cut out while everyone was preparing earlier. It was a slightly different white to the flag Han was holding, but from a distance I was sure no one would question it.

”You’re going to be the decoy.” Lee says with a knowing smirk, slowly nodding in approval.

”Exactly. We have no confirmation they are without leadership right now. They could be playing into the fact they know we don’t and are using it to mess with us. For all we know they’re waiting just outside the perimeter to surprise us.”

”Great plan, but the entire forest is covered in leaves and debris. They’re bound to hear me once they catch you.” Han states, gesturing to the leaf ridden ground.

”That’s where Kai comes in.” I say, looking over my shoulder as Kai runs over.

”Ready Dahlia?” He asks, holding out his hand to me.

Lee and Han look at me confused as I take his hand in mine, feeling my signet take his in. My signet was classified, but Kai had been smart enough to figure it out. Kai had a sound signet. To most, it wouldn’t seem incredibly useful. But for situations like this it was perfect. Not only could he make you hear things that weren’t there, but he could also muffle or disguise sounds.

Han shakes his head and laughs, the pieces clicking together in his head. “And you didn’t think you were ready for this.”

”Believing in myself doesn’t come easily. Now lets go, we have a Squad Battle to win."

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01

[possibilistfanfiction]

Prompt: Vi and gentleness, healing from prison trauma

[give vi seven million hugs!!!!!!!]

//

vi jolts awake next to you; it wakes you up, her panicked breathing coming way too fast.

'hey,' you say, trying your best to be comforting. she's told you some of what her life in prison was like, but she was seventeen — a child — when she went in, and you know that, whatever she's told you, the reality was so, so much worse. 'vi, it's okay.'

she's still panicked, though, pulling at her hair and curled in on herself, her muscles straining hard, sweat soaking down her bare back, shiny against tattoos and scars spread all over her skin. this is the first of her nightmares you'd woken up to; you know she's had them before, because you've woken in the middle of the night to a cold bed and found her on the couch, dark circles under her eyes with some animal documentary playing on mute, scared to fall back asleep.

vi, in the light, is so strong, with her broad shoulders and the serious set of her brow, the way she cares and cares and cares. vi, in the moonlight silvering through the window, in the dark, is small, and terrified.

she flinches away from your touch, still stuck in a different world. you turn on your bedside lamp and try one of the grounding exercises that you use for yourself when you start to spiral. she's reluctant but it's always easier to come back to reality when all you have to do is name four things you can see, or two things you can smell, rather than make sense of the whole present world at once, and so she tries.

her breathing slows and eventually, she deflates enough that she stops looking like she's going to punch through a wall at any given moment. 'sorry,' she croaks as you hand her a glass of water.

you roll your eyes: of course her first impulse would be to apologize after a real honest-to-god panic attack.

'violet,' you say, just that, and she softens even more. 'can i touch you?'

she nods, and your light touch on her shoulder turns into an engulfing hug, her arms wrapping around you tight while she rests her head in the crook of your neck, just trying to steady her breath further. you figured out early on that vi loved physical touch, from everyone she cared about, and it wasn't a mystery as to why. still, to hear her mumble, 'no one touched me gently for five years,' makes you want to cry.

you can cry later, though, because she needs you right now to be strong. 'do you want to talk more about it?'

she sighs. 'can we just... stay like this? just for now?'

you run your hand through her hair, gently brush it back from her face, and kiss the scar through her brow: from a guard's baton, her third night there, you'll learn one day. 'we can stay like this all night, vi,' you promise.

//

vi flops down onto the mat when you get to the climbing gym, closing her eyes and taking a big breath, then letting it out slowly. she had been quiet in the car, but she'd smiled when you put on an old album she loved. you have a standing climbing date every other thursday afternoon, after she has therapy, and usually it only takes her a few minutes to fully come back to you: eventually, she's laughing and smiling like normal, leading the hardest overhangs in the gym with a powerful ease, joking that your knot is dressed to the eights while you do a safety check, kissing your cheek delightedly while you groan.

today, though, she stays quiet and serious. she's still encouraging and respectful, as she always, without fail, is, but she favors her left shoulder — her bad one, which you continue to gently pester her to get looked at — and still climbs the most intense dihedral chimney, holding her arm to her chest when you lower her.

'at least ice that, please,' you ask — a little desperate, a little out of your depth with this heavy and stubborn a mood — when you finish up and head back to your apartment to shower and order food. you debate texting jinx, but you had promised her that vi would be at your place tonight; apparently she and ekko had planned to have a small party and you didn't want to interrupt. vi is your girlfriend, and you can handle it. you want her in your life as long as she'll have you, and so you need to be able to handle it.

vi just grunts and leans her head against the window, flexing her left wrist a few times. you tell her to shower first, and she just nods, doesn't even try to give you any lines to convince you to shower with her. she comes out of the bathroom in boxers and wool hiking socks and one of your soft fleece quarter zips, her favorite on days where the past lingers a little too much. she pulls you in for a gentle kiss — an apology, a thank you — before you head to the bathroom, and when you finish and sit next to where she's curled up on the couch, your hair wrapped in a towel and dressed in your favorite knit palazzo pants and a bra, your glasses on, she sighs.

'hard day in therapy?'

'i — this is the anniversary of the day i went to prison,' she says, quiet, staring off into the corner at nothing. she won't meet your eyes, but of course you don't make her. 'i should've told you.'

'violet.' she accepts your upturned, outstretched palm. 'the only thing i need from you tonight is to stop apologizing. you, today, in this moment, have done absolutely nothing wrong.'

'huh. i'm sor—'

your glare stops her, and you exchange small, amused smiles.

'i'm still getting used to... this, i guess.'

it's been nearly a year, but you don't take offense.

'i talked about you in therapy today,' she continues. 'like, not bad, obviously, just that it's so hard to tell you about, like, the way my—' her voice breaks and she swallows once — 'my parents died, or, how hard it was to try to take care of powd—jinx, or... you know, i was just a kid.'

she's desperately fighting back tears; you scoot closer to her and lift her chin with your finger, gently, to meet your eyes. 'you were a child. none of that should have happened to you.'

she frowns, but a few tears fall freely, and she, thankfully, doesn't try to stop them. 'a lot of it was my fault.'

you shrug. 'maybe you did some stupid things. but so did i, and certainly so did jayce, and all that happened to us was a scolding. i know you know this, but it wasn't fair, or just, or right, what you had to live through because you were a dumb kid, or because you had only impossible choices to make.'

'i swear, you and my therapist are in cahoots.' her voice wobbles but she relaxes, just slightly.

'i have an idea,' you say. you know she doesn't have work tomorrow, and jinx is with ekko all night, and you can take the day off if you need. 'put some pants on.'

//

you lay out the warm blanket you'd brought on the sand; it's freezing, but the spiked hot chocolate you'd put in your to-go mugs is still hot, and vi is like a furnace when you lean into her side. you'd bought this small house on the lake a few months ago, had been waiting until it was finished to surprise vi on vacation. but this was more important: her eyes had gotten big when you'd driven up the long, winding driveway, and she'd reverently said, 'no fucking way, cupcake,' when you'd explained that, really, you hoped it could belong, in all the important ways, to the both of you. an hour and a half drive from the city; the wildflowers and one of her favorite climbing spots only twenty minutes away: a respite, from it all.

'i've never seen this many stars,' she says, awe and grief in the frost of her breath.

you don't say that you've been in more remote places than this together; you just look out over the lake where they reflect back, blinking and shimmering. 'i know your brain and body don't always believe you, and that's okay,' you tell her, 'but you're free, vi.'

she sniffles, and then she nods, and then she laughs. 'my therapist isn't going to believe this.'

you end up laughing too, and you lie back with her on the blanket in the cold, and you teach her constellations. when you look out over the water, the horizon line lost between cosmos and earth, you realize it's the same as your love for her too: endless.

//

'i'm not hungry.'

you roll your eyes. 'you didn't eat lunch.'

'well, i haven't done anything today.' she fusses with the sling her left arm is snugly nestled in; she hurt her shoulder again on a call last night, and it was so bad this time she couldn't hide it from her captain. she's finally agreed to see a specialist next week, if only to stop you from nagging, or so she insisted.

'vi.'

'cait, just, stop.' it's harsh, harsher than she ever really is, and she sighs. 'please.'

you offer your hand quietly and she takes it with her good one. you fight every impulse you have to nag at her, or to offer a million different things for dinner. 'okay.'

she deflates in obvious relief, and you quietly make your way through a few episodes of a show that night until you both wearily head up to your bed. your house is beautiful, and you love sharing a home with her; you turn down the comforter and she tries to get comfortable with her sling, dutifully, still on. her stomach grumbles, and you know she must be starving, but you don't say anything. sometimes she still needs to process in her own time; sometimes her body is still convinced it's just on this edge of surviving.

you let her pretend to be asleep.

in the morning she picks at her breakfast, an egg and cheese with bacon on a roll from the bodgea down the street, her regular favorite. vi is still sweet — she always is, affectionate and bright and devoted and funny — but her smile is only half-hearted and she neatly wraps her sandwich up after she's only finished with half and then places it in the fridge.

you bite your tongue again, because she takes ibuprofen without any reminder and gets her computer set up at the kitchen island; she's doing some work from home, records and order forms, so that she can still help but doesn't actually need to go in today if she was just going to be stuck at a desk anyway.

eventually, you're getting ready to go meet jinx and ekko to have dinner and watch a wnba game at your favorite sports bar; you had spent the day working from home too in your office, occasionally checking on vi but mostly leaving her to her own devices. it's hard, sometimes, not to smother her, but she's her own grown up person, and you know from loving her that whatever's bothering her will, eventually, work its way out.

it does, when you walk into her closet after a light knock on the door and see her in her boxers, sling off, frowning at a pair of jeans with tears in her eyes. they're old, ones she's had the entire time you've known her, a light wash that sits loose and low on her hips, one of the knees tearing over the years. she tries to wipe her cheeks immediately when you walk in, but only ends up wincing and grabbing at her left arm in inescapable pain she can't hide quick enough. instead of asking what's wrong, though, you stay quiet and sit neatly on the little leather bench, pick up the discarded jeans from the floor and fold them neatly.

'they don't — they don't fit anymore,' she says. 'at least, not like they used to.'

it's not hard for you to understand, and it's another layer of grief for her: when you first met vi, she was all muscle, as lean and cut as anyone you'd ever seen. you'd gathered that she grew up with a combination of not having enough food, especially while she was incarcerated, and then being much more worried about jinx eating than herself. you think she enjoys food, and she'll happily cook with you, but left to her own devices, still lives off of protein shakes.

it's hard, to know how to navigate ghosts nestled in her ribs, in her hips, in the tender, torn and frayed ligaments of her shoulder. she sits down next to you. 'well, these were on their way out anyway,' you decide on, hoping a little levity will help her sort through her feelings.

'i — am i still hot?'

it's a question that surprises you, and it surprises her too, based on the look of horror that crosses her face and the way she brings her good hand up to cover her mouth immediately. you try so hard, but you can't fully fight the laugh that bubbles out of you, and vi shoves you weakly with a whine but she starts, after a few seconds, laughing too.

'darling,' you say, relieved to see a real smile on her face, even if she's turned red in embarrassment, 'you're so hot. so unbelievably sexy.' you run your hand through her hair. 'even with this less-than-ideal mullet monstrosity you've chosen at the moment.'

she rolls her eyes. 'it's in right now.'

you shake your head, but it's all so fond, all so warm. you trace the strong line of her thigh, make a little swirl with your finger in the hair along her knee. 'these are so sexy.' you lean over to kiss her good shoulder, its broad expanse, and then tap along her bicep, not as lean as it used to be, but still defined and so, so strong. 'these too.' you touch her cheeks, slightly fuller, and kiss the freckles on her nose, which makes her smile. 'you know i love these.' and there's a layer of fat now, over what used to be the most intimidatingly shredded abs you'd ever seen; there's a line of defined muscle down vi's stomach still, but not the same as the eight pack that used to sit prominently. 'this might be my favorite part, though,' you tell her, and lay your hand there, run your thumb along the soft trail of hair that runs from below her boxers to her belly button.

'there's... there's no way.'

there's a million quips you could make, and you sense that this is going to take more therapy, more tough choices, more bad days, to really sort through. vi has always needed to be the strongest and fastest and fittest in the room; it's the way she survived, the way she made it out of what is truly a hell still alive. so instead, you just answer honestly: 'you're healthy.'

it seems to occur to her, all at once, that maybe that's true: she climbs better than she ever has, and she still sets new records at the fire department for strength and conditioning not infrequently; she's been sleeping through the night more often, and, during the good patches of time that stretch further and further without interruption, she tries all kinds of different foods with you, more adventurous than you'll ever be, and enjoys telling you her favorite parts. not for nothing, either, but she drinks enough actual water, not just protein shakes and a sip from a water fountain at the gym at the end of every session.

'i — i'm not used to it.'

she doesn't sound nearly as upset as before, mostly confused and a little curious. you play your knuckles against her ribs lightly, still pressing into her skin when she breathes, but not fully visible like before. 'this? or eating enough food without thinking about it?'

she laces her fingers with yours. 'i guess, both? i wasn't thinking a lot about it, but now i can't climb or lift and, well, i just. food was calories, and i wasn't burning as many, and then, well.' she sighs and meets your eyes. 'i'm still kind of confused, to be honest. there's a lot going on.'

'you've got time to figure it out,' you assure. 'and, according to your sister,' you hold up your phone and read off jinx's text, just ordered wings, sliders, jalapeño poppers, loaded fries, brussels sprouts, and a pitcher for everyone so pls finish up whatever u two are doing (no details!!!!) bc i am NOT paying for all that :) xoxo

vi laughs, deep and real this time, and brings her hand up to hold your jaw in her palm. 'thank you.'

'there's no need. you really are the hottest you've ever been.'

she blushes. 'still, cait. thank you.'

you nod; you'll accept it for now. she gets dressed in a relatively new pair of thick cotton barrel pants she loves, ones you’d shopped for together, and puts on a beanie just to humor you; you kiss her for it even when she rolls her eyes at your clear delight.

you meet your family — hers, at first, sure, but yours too, a collective — at the bar, and of course, you do pay, and jinx toasts to your black card, and you roll your eyes but you laugh too. your home team wins and vi's favorite player gets a triple-double and when you get home later, full and a little tipsy, you're careful of her shoulder but you still show her all the ways you think she's sexy, and wonderful, and hot as hell.

when you wake up the next morning, she's still sound asleep next to you, naked and absolutely gorgeous. you, allegedly, were supposed to meet jayce for a run, but you text him for a raincheck. instead, you curl into her strong, capable side, and decide to let you both rest a little longer.

[mohnaka]

So, in regards to Hondo in Skeleton Crew since it's something I keep seeing people ask about: it was confirmed that he won't be appearing. Here's the specific bit from the article:

I’ve seen speculation that a live-action Hondo Ohnaka will appear in Star Wars: Skeleton Crew. True or false? –Corey A freighter resembling Hondo’s was spotted in the distance at Port Borgo in Episode 2, but series creators Chris Ford and Jon Watts confirmed for me that we won’t be meeting the Clone Wars pirate. “We’ll rip off that Band-Aid and say no, we don’t have any Hondo,” Ford told TVLine. “Honestly, we love Hondo, but there wasn’t really a part in our story that offered a good enough role for him. Like, if we were trying to cast him in this, he would be like, ‘This part is not big enough for Hondo!'” Which is not to say Skeleton Crew, in success, won’t ever feature the interstellar buccaneer. “We would love to keep doing this,” Ford said, “and keep exploring the whole pirate side of the galaxy, and build up to that.”

There's always the chance they could be lying, but considering the wording, I don't think they are. But! He is coming in the next dlc for Star Wars Outlaws! No exact release date yet, sometime in spring. If you haven't played it yet, I highly recommend it.

Now on a side note, something else I've seen a lot of people ask/say in regards to Hondo showing up in media set after Rebels: isn't he already super old/dead/etc? Long story short, no. Short story long because I'm autistic and don't know when to shut up under the read more:

If you were somehow unaware (hoping that doesn't come off as judgmental, it's more of a surprised thing I swear!), he's actually a part of Galaxy's Edge aka "the Star Wars land" at Disneyland/Disney World, which is supposed to take place in between The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker (so about 34 ABY). Or at least it was initially, they've been kind of loosening it up lately, but the two rides (Rise of the Resistance and Millennium Falcon: Smugglers Run, the latter of which Hondo is basically the star of) are still in that specific time range. So he's not dead nor is he going to die in anything set before the sequels (but then again, "Hondo Ohnaka survives every time", could be the Force keeps bringing him back to life to fuck with everyone).

In Legends, the approximate lifespan for his species (Weequay) was about 90 years of age. There's been no word on whether this is still canon or it's been made longer, but if it is still canon, it does give us an idea of how old he was in the various eras. If we're to assume he's somewhere between 80 to 85 years of age in 34 ABY (Lando, who he's shown to be on good terms with in issue 4 of the Halcyon Legacy comic, is 77/78 years in 34 ABY for reference), that would make him:

Between 25 to 30 years old when he's first introduced in The Clone Wars

Between 42 to 47 years old when he's first introduced in Rebels

And last but not least, between 55 to 60 years old in 9 ABY, which is (supposedly) when The Mandalorian/Skeleton Crew/etc takes place

Somewhere in the middle is most likely, since the younger estimate would put him at only 14 years old in 32 BBY (during The Phantom Menace), but 17 to 19 years old isn't that wild considering what we've seen older kids/teenagers deal with in this franchise. It's not completely unrealistic that someone with a background like his would be just starting off leading a group of pirates in his late teens.

Anyway, what's he been up to since Rebels? He actually founded his own Totally Legitimate Shipping Company, Ohnaka Transport Solutions, sometime in between 1 ABY and 4 ABY prior to the Battle of Endor. It's currently (as in, 34 ABY currently) based in Black Spire Outpost on Batuu, though whether it was always there is unknown. Also at some point he got himself a ship that he named the Katooni...yes, like that Katooni. In fact, it's the one mentioned in the above interview about Hondo appearing in Skeleton Crew, so in a sense, he might have already had a indirect cameo!

Sources for most of this/recommended reading: Pirate's Price, The Secrets of the Bounty Hunters, and Halcyon Legacy #4. If you're looking for Hondo content outside the shows, read these. Especially Pirate's Price if you've always wondered what it'd be like if Han and Hondo met. And as previously mentioned, Halcyon Legacy #4 has him with (the real) Lando.

[galaxysupreme17]

A Coven Road Trip

Y/n = Your Name

Agathario x daughter!reader

Coven of Chaos x teen!fem!reader!

The mid-morning sun glinted off the SUV’s windshield as the Coven of Chaos embarked on their magical retreat. Stacked with snacks, luggage, and a healthy dose of chaos, the cramped vehicle was an explosive powder keg waiting for the first spark. Y/n, wedged between Agatha and Jen in the middle seat, was already feeling the tension rise as Rio expertly swerved around a tight corner, narrowly avoiding a truck.

“Rio!” Billy yelped from the backseat, clutching the armrest for dear life. “Could you maybe not drive like Hydra is chasing us?”

“Hydra doesn’t scare me,” Rio said calmly, her hands relaxed on the wheel as if she were cruising down a suburban street. “Besides, we’ll get there faster if I—” She jerked the wheel to avoid a pothole, and everyone in the car tilted sharply to the left.

“Mama, I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes,” Nicky groaned dramatically, clutching the seatbelt across his chest.

“You’ll be fine,” Agatha replied without looking up from her book. She was completely unbothered, her arm draped protectively over Y/n’s shoulder as her daughter snoozed peacefully against her. It starkly contrasted Jen, who was gripping the door handle so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Why are you so calm?” Jen hissed at Agatha. “Rio is a menace behind the wheel!”

Agatha smirked, finally looking up from her novel. “Because I’ve survived worse. Plus, I trust my wife. She’s a very… effective driver.”

“That’s not reassuring!” Billy exclaimed, eyes wide as Rio executed a flawless yet terrifyingly fast merge onto the highway.

In the driver’s seat, Rio’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. She glanced at the rearview mirror, catching Billy’s terrified expression. “Relax, Billy. We’ll make it there in one piece.”

“That remains to be seen,” muttered Alice, seated in the back row beside Lilia. The latter was busy fiddling with the car’s Bluetooth system, attempting to connect her ancient playlist.

“I got it!” Lilia announced triumphantly as a hauntingly operatic tune from centuries past blared through the speakers.

“Oh, come on,” Billy groaned, leaning forward. “I was about to connect my phone!”

“You snooze, you lose, kid,” Lilia said, reclining smugly. “This is real music. Let’s educate your young ears.”

“Educate?” Nicky interjected with a raised brow. “This sounds like the soundtrack to a haunted castle. Maybe let Billy have a turn before I start summoning ghosts.”

“Hilarious,” Lilia deadpanned, rolling her eyes. “But no.”

Billy groaned again, louder this time. “Y/n, help me out here!”

Y/n stirred, blinking sleepily. She glanced around, assessing the situation with half-closed eyes before mumbling, “Lilia’s got seniority. Deal with it, Billy.” Then she nestled back against Agatha’s shoulder.

“Traitor,” Billy muttered, crossing his arms.

“At least she’s not complaining,” Rio quipped from the front, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “Unlike some people.”

“Speaking of complaining,” Jen interrupted, pointing at the map on her phone, “you missed the exit ten minutes ago! We need to turn around.”

“We don’t need to turn around,” Agatha said coolly, her eyes still scanning the pages of her book. “There’s another route up ahead.”

“No, there isn’t!” Jen shot back, her tone sharp. “If we keep going this way, we’ll be in the middle of nowhere.”

“Perfect place for a magical retreat, don’t you think?” Agatha countered with a sly grin.

Y/n groaned, rubbing her temples. “Mama, Jen, please, can we not argue? I’ll start crying, and you know what happens when I cry.”

The SUV went silent. Agatha’s expression immediately softened as she turned to her daughter. “Sweetheart, no need for tears. We’ll sort this out.” She shot a pointed look at Jen, who rolled her eyes but relented.

“Fine,” Jen muttered. “But if we end up lost in the woods, I blame you.”

“Duly noted,” Agatha replied, her smirk returning.

The car settled into a tenuous peace, though the atmosphere remained tense. Billy slumped against the window, sulking as Lilia’s music played on. On the other hand, Nicky leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of Y/n’s seat.

“Hey, Mama,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. “How do you put up with all of this? It’s like a circus in here.”

Agatha chuckled. “It’s called patience, darling. You might want to practice some.”

“Patience? With these people?” Nicky teased, gesturing broadly. “I’ll need a lot more snacks for that.”

Y/n tossed a granola bar at him, hitting him square in the chest. “There. Consider it a down payment.”

“Thanks, Y/n/n,” Nicky said with mock sincerity, unwrapping the bar. “You’re the real MVP.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Billy muttered, still pouting about the music.

The SUV pulled into a gas station an hour later. While Rio refueled, Agatha stretched her legs, her commanding presence drawing attention even in the mundane setting. Y/n followed, leaning against the car as she watched her family interact. Despite the chaos, a warmth in their dynamic made her smile.

“Feeling okay, sweetheart?” Agatha asked, noticing the soft expression on her daughter’s face.

Y/n nodded. “Yeah. It’s just… nice, you know? Being with everyone, even if it’s a bit of a mess.”

Agatha chuckled, pulling her daughter into a side hug. “A bit of a mess is an understatement. But it’s our mess.”

Nicky wandered over, hands stuffed in his pockets. “So, what’s the plan when we get there? Group meditation? Ritual chanting? Or are we just winging it like usual?”

“A little of everything,” Agatha replied. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“Great,” Nicky said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Can’t wait to see what chaos you all have cooked up this time.”

Rio approached the group, her gaze softening as she took in her family. She ruffled Nicky’s hair affectionately, wrapping an arm around his shoulders before turning to Y/n. “You holding up okay, princess?”

Y/n smiled up at her, nodding. “I’m good, Mami. Thanks for not hitting any more potholes.”

Rio smirked. “No promises on the way back.”

The final stretch of the drive was quieter, with Y/n and Nicky taking turns telling stories from their childhood to entertain Billy. Even Rio chimed in occasionally, sharing a rare anecdote that left everyone laughing.

When they finally arrived at the cabin nestled in the mountains, the tension had melted away, replaced by a sense of camaraderie. The group spilled out of the SUV, stretching and surveying their surroundings.

“Home sweet home,” Rio declared, tossing the keys to Agatha. “Next time, someone else can drive.”

“Noted,” Jen said, still looking a little pale. “But I’m definitely not volunteering.”

As they unloaded the car, Y/n caught Billy’s eye. “Still scared for everyone’s sanity?” she teased.

“Absolutely,” he replied, though his grin betrayed him. “But I guess there’s no one else I’d rather go insane with.”

“Hear, hear,” Nicky said, slinging an arm around Y/n’s shoulders. “Let the chaos begin.”

Y/n laughed, pulling her brother and Billy into a loose hug as they headed inside. Rio watched them fondly from the porch, her arm slipping around Agatha’s waist. “Our kids are something else,” she murmured.

Agatha smiled, leaning into her wife. “Perfectly chaotic, just like us,” she quipped with a smirk.

The retreat had only begun, but Y/n already knew it would be an unforgettable weekend with her chaotic, magical family.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Season 2 Part 4: ~

Farther and Son:

So, I'm back at work full-time now that Christmas is over, and I'm not sure how often chapters will be posted. Hopefully, once a week.

Tw: Coma.

'What did the doctors say?'

'They put Tommy through the Scale Assessment,' Jennifer explained with tears running down her face and smearing her makeup. 'Fifteen is mild. Three, you're practically brain-dead.' She paused. Her shoulders twitched. Jennifer whimpered. Addair wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and without a second thought, she nestled into him and began to weep. 'He only scored a seven.'

Addair's body went cold. His heart stopped. His eyes widened, and he, too, began to cry. He was going to lose his eldest son, who had just finished his GCSEs and wanted to join the Army, was now fixed to a hospital bed and being fed through a tube. The man looked at his hand, where skin was peeling from his palm and fingers from a lifetime of manual labour. They were unsightly to look at, even before his infection, but they carried so many memories.

Tommy's birth came to mind. He remembered the day he was born. When he was able to hold him in his hands. Only six pounds with a small tuft on blonde hair. Addair, who was already balding, joked about how they had matching hairstyles.

The happiest day of his life. Today, a nightmare.

'What is that, Sarge?'

'I don't know.'

'What should we do?'

'I don't know.'

Possibly the only pair of police officers in the village, followed Addair from the safety of their car. Addair didn't acknowledge them and just kept moving forward. He only had one destination, and nothing was going to stop him.

Braemar looked like a ghost town. Addair's arrival caused everyone to hide in their homes and lock the doors. But, they were curious, especially the children. Nothing happened in a place that had a population of less than a thousand people. Eyes watched Addair from the windows with a mix of awe and fear. They had no idea what he was. But they had realised he wasn't giving anyone a moments notice. He didn't try and climb over the buildings to make a quick exit or sink his tendrils into pavement, but instead, he moved lightly, which made him slow. To the locals, he looked like a monster, but he didn't act like one.

Thankfully, Addair was moving so slowly that Caz and Roy easily caught up in the car. Roy pulled up, allowing Caz to jump out and dash down the icy pavement. Why didn't the council put grit out?

Caz didn't need to sense Addair. He could see the English cunt turning down to the right. He was just following the main road out of town. Not even thinking about the police, Caz ran past them. His foot lost its grip, and he collided with a lamp-post but quickly found his balance and pushed himself up.

'Addair?!' He stopped, turned, and stared down at Caz. 'Addair, what the fuck are you doing?' He didn't answer. Caz felt his anger rising. 'Don't just stare at me. Answer my fuckin' question. You think you can just wander off and go wherever the fuck you want-'

'I'm going to see my son!'

'You just saw your sons!'

'Tommy,' Addair snapped. 'I'm going to see Tommy!'

Caz's face fell. The 'dream' came creeping back into his mind. He replayed it in his head, and the pieces fell into place. It wasn't a dream. It wasn't a memory. That was Addair's thoughts. How he thought that day played out. Caz, somehow, in his sleep, saw into his mind.

'He could die, and you want me to hide away in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere?!' Now knowing his name and that he can talk, the locals listened. They were curious. 'I don't care what I look like, and I don't care what they think. My face could be on the front of every newspaper, but nothing is stopping me from seeing him.'

Caz didn't reply. He was shocked. As much as he didn't like Addair, his feelings were justified because if he was in his position, Caz would do the same. He'd end the world for his girls. If being infected meant Cait and Maidie would be safe, he'd jump head first into the mass. He was one of the crew members who didn't know about Tommy.

'So,' the younger police officer stepped out of the car, along with the Sarge. They didn't get close. 'There's more of you lot?'

'No.'

'But he has a son?'

'He's human.'

'He is?'

'Yes.'

'What the fuck happened?'

'Long story. Look,' Caz sighed. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'I'll take care of this, and we'll get out of your way, aye?'

'Aye,' the Sarge was quick to reply. He was an older man who clearly didn't want any change in his village. 'Just go before some eejit newspaper gets here.'

Addair turned to leave. Caz quickly grabbed what he could of his arm.

'No.'

'Didn't you just-'

'If you want to go to London, then you're not walking there, and you're not going by yourself.' There was a pause as Addair's face softened, then he slowly formed a smile. He really wasn't going to get away from Caz or anyone from Beria. This really was his new reality.

'Prick,' he chuckled.

Roy's finger tapped the steering wheel with a cigarette tightly pursed between his lips, waiting for something to go wrong. He audibly sighed when Caz got back into the car with Addair following, but he kept his guard up when he saw the police. He wasn't insured to drive, and as much as he loved Caz, he wasn't going to join him in jail.

'Alright?'

'Yeah,' Caz groaned. 'I think we're-'

The car rattled. Addair wrapped a tendril around the vehicle and hoisted it in the air, and began walking back for the farm.

'Addair, you fuckin' cunt, we can drive!' He didn't answer and just kept walking. 'I know you can hear me, Addair. Addair - Oh, Jesus Christ...!'

[thevoidstaredback]

One would think that looking for a portal into The Afterlife would be an easy endeavor. You find out what it’s supposed to look like, what energy it puts off, who would have a motive, track them and/or it down, fight and shut down the whole project, call it a day.

There’s one problem with this sequence of events, though. Phantom won’t tell anyone what it looks like, nor will he share what kind of energy it puts off. He’s the only one to have seen a man-built portal into the Realms, so no one else knows what to look for. Any questions had been shut down the second they were asked. This was information Phantom was keeping close to his chest.

After three hours of frustrated discussion, the meeting room emptied. Tensions were rising high due to everyone’s lack of ability to do anything until Phantom gave them the information they needed.

Well, almost everyone left.

Nightwing sat beside Phantom. “Y’know, Constantine said that I’m your favorite bat.”

A few moments of silence sat between them. “You are, yeah.”

He preened at the confirmation. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Phantom chuckled lightly to himself. “I doubt you’d remember, even if I told you.”

“Well, now you have to tell me! If only so that I can make sure my siblings never try to take this spot from me.”

A smile. “I was twenty-two when I first went to Gotham. You were still newish. Twelve, I think?”

If the time seemed weird compared to what Nightwing knew, he didn’t mention it. “Oh? B would’ve been about that age, too.”

Phantom blushed a light green. “Don’t tell him, but I had the biggest crush on him back then.”

That got Nightwing to laugh again. “Is that why you went to Gotham?”

“No. Me, my friends, and my little sister were playing Truth or Dare. I was dared to wander around Gotham without using any powers or getting caught by Batman.”

“You took the dare?”

“Yep. Flew into the city and started to just walk. That’s when I met Lady Gotham, actually. I told her that I wanted to play a game with Batman and Robin and she let me in. She told me to be careful and that I’d lose before wishing me luck.”

“What a vote of confidence.”

“Right? Anyway, I got an hour into the impromptu game of hide and seek that you guys didn’t know you were playing before I spotted you.”

Nightwing leaned his head on his hand, his elbow on the table. “Did my uniform colour give me away?”

“Nope,” Phantom shook his head, “The shadows nearby started moving, so I ran. Ended up somewhere in The Narrows, I think. Anyway, The Lady laughed at me when I told her how scary you guys are, and then you popped outta fucking nowhere and scared the shit outta me!”

Nightwing was laughing again, a bit harder this time. “I think-I think I remember something like that! I was just about twelve when that happened. You were so weird!”

“Me?! You’re the one who started talking about what kind of hunters humans are! I swore to never go back to that city after that.”

“Ha! That sounds like something I would’ve said!” He allowed himself a moment to calm down. “I don’t remember you having white hair, though.”

Phantom shrugged. “That’s because I went as a civilian.”

Okay, so Nightwing met Phantom as a civilian before the rest of his family. That’s another point to him! Though, “You came back to Gotham a bit ago..?”

A sigh. “The House of Mysteries likes to drop me in inconvenient places if I don’t have a set destination in mind. Before I opened the door, I was telling Deadman that I wasn’t going to tell him about my first trip to Gotham no matter how much he pushed. Next thing I know, it’s the middle of the day in Gotham, New Jersey, and I’ve got vigilantes surrounding me on all sides.”

Nightwing cringed back. “Yeah…sorry about that.We were going to ambush Signal on his patrol with lunch, and then we saw some guy walk out of a door that hadn’t ever been there before.” He paused. “How’d you get out of Gotham, actually? We were chasing you, and then the graveyard gates shut before we could get in. We staked it out, but the gates didn’t open for another day.”

Phantom rubbed the back of his neck, his embarrassed blush returning. “I asked the Graveyard Spirits to lock you guys out long enough for me to get away. I left them a shiny on a rock before I left via magic.”

“The door thing, right?”

“Yep.”

“Will you teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe some other time.”

It was quiet for another few minutes, neither peaking up. It was comfortable, though it got less so as it dragged on. Nightwing had more questions he wanted to ask and Phantom was afraid of what they might be.

Phantom sighed, deep, from his diaphragm. “Ask your questions.”

Nightwing hesitated a moment more reluctant to say anything. Finally, quietly, he asked, “This seems like a really sensitive topic for you, the portal. Can I ask why?”

He shrunk in on himself more. “You have a lot more tact than Red Robin, I’ll give ya that.”

Nightwing covered his mouth to try and conceal the small gasp that escaped him. “It has to do with how you died, right?” He shook his head. “No, don’t worry about answering that. I’ll get B and the others off your back about this. We’ll find a different solution.”

The door opened, allowing Constantine and Deadman into the room. They sat across from Phantom and Nightwing, but didn’t say anything. They just sat there, offering silent support.

How did they know?

Phantom didn’t want to share his story. Death, ironically enough, is a sensitive topic for the dead/undead/undying. It drags memories to the surface, painful memories more often than not. Memories and phantom pains and echoes of cries.

Even just the passing thought on a bad day makes him feel the electricity killing him, the portal reviving him. He hears his own screams, drowned out by the humming of an entire world opening up on top of and through him.

He can’t stop the tears falling from his eyes.

It’s…it’s been a long time since he told anyone.

Had he ever told anyone?

Sam and Tucker had been with him when he died. None of them ever told Jazz, but she knew because she was his big sister. Dani knew. Dan knew. Vlad and Valerie and Wes all knew. He told mom and dad, but not the whole story. Never the whole story. Constantine and Deadman and the entire Justice League and affiliates all knew he was dead, even a little bit of what happened after, but he hadn’t told them how.

Red Robin knew, but Phantom hadn’t told him.

Was he ready to tell people? Was he ready for them to know? It had been so long since it had happened, but he could still feel the electricity as though it was happening all over again.

“I was fourteen when I died,” he whispered into the stale air of the meeting room, “My parents had dedicated their entire lives to Ecto-ology, the study of ghosts. In college they and a friend of theirs started working on a way to get into the place they called the Ghost Zone. Vlad got sick before they could even finish the blueprints and had to be quarantined at the hospital. When I was fourteen, they finished building it.

“I love my parents, but for being geniuses, they were really dumb sometimes, y’know? They’d built this thing up, eight feet tall, just as wide, and ten feet deep. It was an amazing feat of science and engineering, but when they plugged it in, it didn’t turn on. They left the lab, not bothering to unplug the thing.

“Anyway, I told my best friends about the failed portal and they insisted on going down to the lab to see it. Who was I to tell them ‘no’?” An unwilling victim. “Sam dared me to go inside. And I was fourteen, so backing out of a triple-dog-dare is like making a fool of yourself before a king’s court! So, I went into the portal.

“Somehow, it was darker on the inside despite work lights lining the floor and ceiling. Mom and dad were never huge on lab safety… The one flaw in their blueprints- the one reason that the portal hadn’t turned on, was because the switch had been built inside the dumb thing. I tripped and the next thing I know, I’m on the other side of the room, somehow both dead and alive.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. A small, barely noticeable weight, but he felt lighter nonetheless.

He’d obviously left out details, not even entertaining the idea of telling them how it felt to die.

Deadman’s voice was rough in the room, only barely louder than Phantom’s had been. “There are legends told throughout the Realms about creatures who walk the precarious balance between Life and Death, known collectively as Osiris in the Realms, though humans call them Halfas. Throughout Time, each individual has earned a title, a name to be called. Phantom, King of the Infinite Realms and Her people, was given the title Anubis.”

“So,” Nightwing asked softly, “Are all the gods these..Halfas?”

“No,” the ghost shook his head, “The gods are a different race entirely. They simply share names as titles.”

Constantine looked Phantom in the eye. “Phantom, we need to know what we’re looking for.”

He didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to think about this anymore.

“I’ll draw out the finished product, but it might’ve been changed after such a long time.”

“Speaking of time,” Constantine jumped in again as the ghost went to get some paper and pens, “I’m a bit confused about your timeline of events.”

“Oh?”

“You told me that just about a hundred years have passed since you last saw your Fraid.”

“I did.”

“Huh? But, you said we first met when I was twelve.”

“That’s also true.”

“Things aren’t lining up, kid.”

This time, his sigh was more put-upon and less world-weary. “I told you that Time is weird in the Realms. I have existed in Time for thirty-eight years. My Fraid has existed in Time for a hundred-thirty-eight years. The town I grew up in sits a little to the left of the rest of the world’s Time, meaning that it moved slower than you guys.”

“That…I still can’t…what?”

“Don’t focus too hard on it, it’ll just give you a bigger headache.”

Part 17 Part 19

[childish-dreams-utmv]

"Childish Dreams" [INTERACTIVE]

Fanfic summary:

"Night!" the child stumbled a little, running towards him with hands outstretched. "Are you okay?!" he exclaimed in worry. Oh, fate. It was about time you presented him with such a sweet opportunity. — Dream, somehow, got turned into a kid. Nightmare takes advantage of the opportunity.

Chapter 1, 1776 words

Credits, content warnings and further information on ao3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61963975

—

"No no no, you're gonna hurt him!"

And just like that, all fighting froze in place.

It was the voice of a child. In the middle of their battle. Killer was frozen with his knife high and ready to stab at Blue, while Dust and Horror took Dream's absence to team against Ink. Nightmare had found no need to intervene, simply standing back and smugly watching the havoc and destruction always rightfully linked to his name.

Because Dream was missing. Because he'd been waiting for Dream to appear, so he could target him personally, as he so frequently did.

Well.

He got what he asked for, in a way.

"Night!" the child stumbled a little, running towards him with hands outstretched. "Are you okay?!" he exclaimed in worry. Not fear, not hatred, not anger, which was normal, those weren't Dream's modus operandi; but not in sadness, not in regret, not in morose conviction.

He could feel it. Worry. For Nightmare. The corrupted King of Negativity. His arch nemesis of decades past.

"DREAM!" Blue yelled, full of alarm. Nightmare watched– Dream wince and slow down, highly emotionally tensed though he hardly showed it. "We told you to STAY. HOME–"

"I'm sorry…" Dream fidgeted, looking down. Guilt. Anxiety. "But you needed help… I can help!" he looked back up, grinning back at Blue. And then he once again looked up to Nightmare, just a few paces away.

'Up' because he was a tiny child. No older than the day of Nightmare's… becoming. His ascension.

Likely not having travelled here from the past, however — his circlet remained as always, but his clothes were different. Nightmare had never seem him dressed like this. They were clearly borrowed. A yellow shirt, an orange zip-up hoodie that was too big on him, light blue trousers. Far from the borderline princely or knightly outfits he would don these days. (Nightmare always dressed far more regal than him, however, of course.)

Everyone on the battlefield was stupefied still.

"Dream," Blue hissed, eye lights frantically flicking around, still braced to parry Killer's stabbing.

"Night, are you okay?" Dream pretended not to hear, eye sockets wide and looking still at him. Was he… caring? No, that was preposterous. It had to be faked, it always had been. Nightmare could only imagine the expression he wore.

"What."

"You're, um," Dream tentatively stepped even closer, reaching out. "There's weird stuff on you…" he muttered.

"How did he even know that's his brother?" Ink wondered aloud, perhaps the only one naturally unperturbed.

"I don't know," Blue stressed, like he carried tension enough for both of them.

"OH because of the crown!" Dream looked back at them, pointing at Nightmare's head. Or, rather, his circlet.

Still reeling, Nightmare raised a hand halfway as if intenting to… take it off or something. He still wore it, because he was a King. And it pleasantly dirtied Dream's name — everyone should know whose brother was sowing suffering throughout the Multiverse.

"It's okay!" Dream turned back to him, smiling like sunshine. It occurred to Nightmare he'd hardly seen his grins that… radiant for a while now. Always marred by hidden tiredness, indicative of Nightmare's own building strength. Those shadows lingered now too, though. That was another difference to their youth. "We can, um… I'm sure it can wash off!" the child, what, reassured him?

What the hell was going on?

"What is this?!" Nightmare's expression turned to a glower, pinned on Blue (as Ink would hardly care).

Blue cringed, and sensing his emotions wasn't even needed to see the discomfort and panic he was experiencing. Killer still held a knife above him, though all of Nightmare's gang had also stopped to watch… whatever this was.

"Ink," Blue hissed.

"Huh?" Ink turned to him, one of his eye lights turning to a question mark.

Blue made a few frantic expressions, nodding at Dream with something implied to it. Even Nightmare halfway got the meaning, akin to 'Do something about this!', which was more than what could be said for Ink. Killer chortled.

Nightmare looked back down to the child. Contemplative.

Oh, fate. It was about time you presented him with such a sweet opportunity.

"Oh," a conniving grin slowly curled over his face, "how the mighty have fallen," one of his tentacles shot forward and grabbed Dream off the ground, who let out a small sound. Nightmare expected him to immediately start wailing at the burning touch like the crybaby he was, but to his surprise, Dream only looked strained, hands latching onto the tentacle desperately.

"NO!" Blue screamed, using Killer's pause to shove him away and shoot towards them. Killer recuperated, barking a laugh as he fired a blaster at his back within the next second and combat was re-engaged.

That didn't matter, because all Nightmare needed was a moment to disappear into the shadows and drag his catch alongside him.

Within the following moment, he was back in his castle, expansive and regal and dark as always. (No, it was not 'goth' or 'edgy' or 'emo' dammit–)

Dream still clutched in his tentacle. Nightmare was larger than a standard Sans, corruption looming and distorted; but even then, Dream currently barely reached above someone's lowest ribs in height.

"Um, Night," he whispered, strained, sweating, "does this black… goop stuff hurt you–?" he asked, eye lights flicking to Nightmare's face.

He barked an unkind laugh.

"Here, let me fix that for you," he said condescendingly, letting Dream drop straight down. It wasn't a long fall to the dark stone floor, but he yelped in surprise and then let out a pained noise with his landing.

The child pushed himself up with some difficulty, traces of harm where Nightmare's liquid negativity had connected with bone.

One by one, Nightmare's recruits began appearing in the common room as well, having dutifully followed him in their tactical retreat. He watched them look at the child in different ways.

Killer seemed to find it bafflingly hilarious. Dust carried a small, flat frown. Horror was outright glowering, minorly conflicted. All of them held notes of confusion.

In the middle of their gathering, Dream looked between everyone. Nightmare could sense… hm, hesitation perhaps. He was unsure of himself.

It was… odd, to sense his aura, because Dream had learned to block him out of it decades ago.

How fun.

"Hello!" Dream smiled past it, and waved at Nightmare's gang. Dust's brow ridges raised. Killer's grin widened. Horror frowned deeper. "I'm Dream! Are– are you my brother's friends?" he asked cheerfully.

Killer started laughing.

"No," Horror grunted, and promptly got elbowed by Dust with a certain look. Perhaps he considered pretending to be just that so as to not freak the kid out.

"Oh," Dream said, smiling in a way that betrayed absolutely none of the disappointment and anxiety Nightmare sensed in him. Curious. "Do you want to be friends?" he exclaimed.

Dust kept it hidden while Horror didn't bother, but both of them felt uncomfortable. Dust's hand raised to habitually hold the scarf around his neck, pulling it up. Killer was still cackling.

"Enough of that," Nightmare turned to him flatly.

"Sorry, sorry boss," Killer chortled, "but wow, am I right? So what's the plan?"

Ah, that was indeed the question.

Hm. Clearly, Dream had no idea he was corrupted. He also hadn't known who the gang were. Nightmare wondered what terrible mishap brought this on. He assumed Blue and Ink had been the one to take care of the child since its occurence, which had to be sometime in the past week or so, as that's how long it had been since Nightmare's latest battle with the other Guardian.

They had tried to keep this hidden from Nightmare. They had failed. Because apparently, Dream was still capable of Multiversal teleportation, a skill he definitely didn't have when they were young. So he'd retained his powers (or at least this one), but was simply returned to a childish state.

Ugh. Then Nightmare couldn't needle him for information.

But Dream was vulnerable like this. And Nightmare held so much old, bitter malice for his "brother".

Once again, he grinned.

"Dream," he began, the tips of his tendrils idly flicking, "would you like to play a game?"

"Yeah!"

—

The "game" went like this:

Order his gang to clean out a bedroom, dark and cold like every unoccupied room around here. Put Dream inside the room. Tell him nothing. Lock the door. Walk away.

How fun.

Said gang trailed after him at a distance. Killer was mostly curious, then slightly disappointed when that's all Nightmare did. Dust and Horror were both uncomfortable.

"Are you just– going to leave him there?" Horror pushed Killer aside to be the one following after Nightmare the closest.

"Yes," Nightmare said easily.

"But he's a kid!" Horror growled.

"And my arch nemesis, correct."

"The hell is a child going to do to you?!"

Nightmare stopped in his stride, and his gang wisely followed suit, stumbling to a halt a few paces behind him. He sighed, slowly turning to give Horror a flat look.

"You'd be wise leaving the decision-making to me." Nightmare spoke low.

Horror was puffed up in anger, hands clenched. He glared back at Nightmare.

Ah, always a more difficult one. He didn't keep quiet the way Dust did, though at least he didn't intentionally annoy to bring himself trouble the way Killer did.

Nigtmare exhaled through his nose.

"He'll be finee," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "He's spoken to enough people for a lifetime, he won't crumble to dust if he doesn't get attention for five minutes,"

Horror bristled further. Behind him, Killer continued to watch in unaffected interest. Dust seemed to be disapproving of Nightmare's decisions at well.

Hm.

Nightmare rolled his eye.

"He will be fed come nightfall," he said in annoyance. Contrary to what many believed, he wasn't a despicable leader to those directly under him. After all, he'd offered them all something in return should they work for him, rather than simply forcing the issue. And he remained true to those deals.

(And, of course, he didn't actually want Dream to die.

This was just some… payback, if you will. A harmful little fantasy. It was about time Dream saw what it's like to be cast out and at somebody else's mercy.)

"Happy?" Nightmare raised an eyebrow.

Horror didn't reply, but he turned around, shoving Killer and Dust aside to storm off. Those two looked at his retreating back, then at Nightmare, then shared a glance.

"Dismissed." Nightmare told them flatly. They scurried off after Horror. He turned back to continue on his way. He had things to contemplate.

—

[thousandyearphantombunker]

"women need to be meaner! Men shouldn't dictate a girls boundaries"

You couldn't handle Connie Maheswaran setting healthy (and much-needed) boundaries with her best friend. You freaking called her toxic and abusive. While season 3 of Amphibia is a hot mess Sasha Waybright being upset with Marcy isn't the problem! It makes sense she'd be pissed that she found out her friend borderline kidnapped her! Even if she can be read as kind of hypocritical, I think she has every reason to be upset! She's like what 14 at the oldest? In a terrifying situation?

It's always "set healthy boundaries" until they set boundaries with your favorite baby and don't spend 100% of their time supporting them/don't forgive their friends for their actions that hurt others

I'm sorry that Steven is your woobie child and Marcy is your comfort character but Connie and Sasha have a right to their feelings and a right to focus on their needs! It's always 'don't feel guilty about focusing on your needs' except not really because apparently focusing on yourself is actually selfish and it's morally wrong to feel certain ways about people! Connie isn't toxic- she acted really mature about the whole situation and while Sasha definitely is toxic- I think she has the right to be mad her friend borderline kidnapped her and broke her trust.

I am a firm believer in setting healthy boundaries and never letting anyone decide your boundaries for you especially when it comes to being supportive. Even if the person you are helping is a good person going through a rough patch you should still have boundaries with them- you can be supportive if you want but you should be your main priority in the need and as callous as it sounds it's not mandatory to give support to everyone especially if your being worn thin

[arolesbianism]

I wish So Bad that I could confidently recommend lob corp and library of ruina to people because they're both genuinely rly good games and I also need ppl I know to understand the insanity that is project moon but like godddd they are a fucking Investment. Both in time and in brainpower. I generally think ppl exaggerate how hard lob corp is but it's certainly not easy and when it does get hard it gets HARD. Also it literally requires at least one day 1 reset (basically a new game+) to fully beat the game and at this point I've done at least 10. And for lor I'm not nearly as far in and I'm just scratching the surface of the real game but it's a beast of its own. Also 100+ hours and also hard as hell. Like this game does not fuck around with its difficulty spikes it will make you use your brain and it will give you a damn headache in the process. It's also one of my favorite card combat games I've ever played with mechanics that just so beautifully complement each other to create a dynamic and interesting battle system that gives it a completely different vibe and feeling than any other deck builder games I've played to the point where it almost feels wrong to me to categorize them together. But also I am not even slightly joking abt the headache thing every time I play this damn game I close it with a horrible headache and have to take a multi day break. I think everyone should experience this with me <3

[valewritessss]

Anyone who’s out of high school or in college, do teenage boys eventually get nicer? They make me not want to go to school.

[thetangibleghost]

I've always wanted to wake up from a dream laughing and I just did but I realized after I woke up that I have missed a million social cues :((((((((((((((((( it wasn't even funny idk why I couldn't stop giggling. I dont even giggle irl.