#but things got away from me.

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[ghast1yghosts]

one thing eddie doesn’t expect when they move to a ranch, is for steve to become a straight up cowboy.

he only realizes it’s happened when steve walks in, boots clinking, dirt smudged on his cheek, flannel completely unbuttoned, and his chunky belt buckle on display.

eddie shakes his head and clears his throat, completely missing whatever steve’s just said to him.

“sorry- what?” his voice absolutely doesn’t not crack at the end, refuses to believe it did. steve crosses his arms and leans against that counter. eddie can feel himself gulp.

steve must’ve notice it too, one side of his mouth quirked up. “i *said,* i fixed the gate. shouldn’t give us any hassle anymore.”

“the gate.. uh huh. good to know.” that chest hair is unforgivable. god he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat too.

steve laughs at him, “earth to eddie,” he snaps his fingers once or twice.

“sorry- i-“ eddie pauses. steve raises his brows at him, waiting. “you can’t do this to me.”

steve looks taken aback. “do what?”

eddie gestures to him, “look like- that.”

hands out, steve turns in a circle, “like this?”

“yes.”

“i’m just in my clothes eds.”

“you look like you’re out of some wet cowboy dream i had when i was 13,” a laugh bursts out of steve, “it’s frankly unfair i’ve only just realized i have my own cowboy now.” someone should’ve told him he’s got the literal fucking dream boat at his fingertips. steve hums and steps toward him. he reaches out and fixes the collar eddie’s own flannel.

“you do, yeah.”

“is this where i make the very obvious joke of suddenly needing to save a horse.” steve cackles at that, hiding his face in eddie’s shoulder.

“you’re insufferable.”

“i try.”

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Heh...Literally nothing personal, kid.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[redwitchrune]

had some time to think and watch people watch the minecraft movie trailer, and i think I've realized my main gripe with it. out of all the directions they could have chosen, why did they go with the one they did???

like. okay. i watched both phil and mumbo watch the trailer who had very different and opposite thoughts. i think mumbo was right in that it seems like it's trying to be an absurd, camp, and silly movie that makes fun of itself. the style (how ever mismatched) leans into that and the humor seems to go in that direction. and I think for what it's trying to be (camp, absurd, making fun of itself), it will probably be an okay movie! the focus won't be on minecraft, it will be on the minecraft world, if that makes sense. the look and mechanics over the feel and vibe.

on the other hand. i hate that they chose this direction. minecraft is such a game of stories, of the hidden stories, of what you make of the mysterious and wonderful world around you. you have the end poem. you have the music. you ha e the ruins. you have new expiernces and wonder and fear. yes it's a big world, but it also feels small. it's just you! in this abandoned and recovering world. and it loves you.

it just feels like that whole aspect of the game doesn't matter here. it's just the surface level appearance, mechanics, and look of the game. it honestly feels more like minecraft legends than normal minecraft, but even then it's missing the whimsy of legends.

yes it looks bad. yes it has like four different art styles. I think for what they're trying to do it will be Okay at best. but what it could've been. that's the real loss. It could've been about nostalgia. about love. about the universe. about making your own world with your own hands. about the quiet emptiness left behind you now have to live in. those raw experiences that won't be considered. whatever

[chatxkilluaxnoir]

They are literally places where people can have normal, good lives. We are usually seeing the more crazy and awful parts of the HxH world. But people can still have normal, happy lives.

The Zoldyck dysfunction, abuse, torture, etc. is not normal.

Even Hunters and Mafia members are scared of the Zoldycks, horrified by them, etc.

Bisky, a older, high class hunter, even thinks about Illumi’s selfish, twisted love for Killua. Thinks about how it is a miracle Killua can smoke at all after what he went through.

They torture, abuse, manipulate, brainwash, lock away, etc. each other.

The Zoldyck family dysfunction and abuse is not normal in the HxH world.

To vote for AssClass just because they are “defying their genre” is kind of weird. Esp. Zig u are going to say the mess of the Zoldyck family is normal for the HxH world.

It says something that Kalluto is probably in a more free and good environment with the PT compared to their family. Not that PT is good, they aren’t. But for Kalluto it probably is better. Which really says something.

The Zoldycks locked up one of their children for years, misgendered her, and treated her as not even human. Killua was the only one who treated Alluka and Nanika well.

Illumi tried to kill Alluka/Nanika.

Illumi wanted Killua to kill him, so he feel the guilt of doing so forever. So Illumi can be in Killua’s heart forever.

Illumi put a brainwashing needle in Killua’s head. Which Silva and Zeno and Milluki knew about. And Silva probably ordered.

Silva and Illumi are both very manipulative towards their family( esp. Killua.

Killua was isolated, forced to kill and do something he didn’t want to do. They placed suffocating, restrictive expectations on him.

He wasn’t allowed friends until Gon. He tried to make friends with Canary, but that wasn’t allowed.

He ran away, and in doing so stabbed Kikyo in the face, and Milluki in the side. Later on, in the final phase of the exam where Illumi was mentally abusing him basically. Saying Killua had a soul of a killer and didn’t deserve friends and threatened Gon to “test” Killua. And just basically mentally destroyed Killua in that fight. And after Gon confronted Illumi about being a horrible brother he almost killed Gon. But didn’t because Hisoka wanted Gon to fight later. And because Illumi knows Hisoka.

Illumi was about to kill Killua’s first friend and the sister he loved dearly.

Basically all his powers and abilities are based around the pain and suffering Killua had to endure at the hands of his family. Where he in trying to break the cycle of abuse, to heal, and out of spite turns his abuse and suffering into a strength and actually uses them to help people or support others.

Killua and others in the family are tortured, beaten, whipped, poisoned, electrocuted, burned (Milluki while whipping Killua put out cigars on Killua’s body in the manga), gaslit, controlled, brainwashed, etc.

Killua and some others have built up such high pain, electrical (literally since he was a baby and/or toddler), poison, etc. resistance, because if the hell he has gone through his whole life.

They dropped off a 6-7 Killua to fight in a tower, and he was there for 1-2 years.

Also, the Zoldycks do love each other, but it is in a weird, unique, twisted kind of Zoldyck way.

The Zoldycks are literally one of the most interesting, compelling, complex, messed up, awful, dysfunctional, insane but also like a “normal” - at least for the Zoldycks, etc. family and/or group in HxH and just in anime/manga, and just in fiction in general imo.

They deserve this win imo.

Also here are some links with good Killua analysis (just all the gojou stuff basically). That also talk about some of the topics I tough upon here. Like Killua’s abuse and his powers, etc. coming from suffering. And etc.;

and:

And last of all (for now):

FINAL FIGHT

The Asanos (Assassination Classroom) VS the Zoldycks (Hunter X Hunter)

The Asanos

Members: Gakuhou Asano (father) and Gakushuu Asano (son)

Propaganda:

CW: physical abuse

"Crazy dad whose misguided goal is just to make his son strong (but whose definition of real strength leaves much to be desired), and son who does see the error in his dad's ways but is brainwashed enough to imagine that his "filial duty" under the circumstances is to "take control". No one knows for sure if a mom exists, but she clearly doesn't want to have much to do with these lunatics." "The dad doesn't even consider his son family, just a "student" as he is a principal. Utterly unhumane conditions is where he trains his son in. And worst of all, they compete on who will control the other, leash included. The first time the son even considers calling him father is when he literally abuses him physically."

The Zoldycks

Members: Zeno, Silva, Kikyo, Illumi, Milluki, Killua, Alluka, Kalluto

Propaganda:

CW: murder, torture, isolation

"What ISN'T dysfunctional about them? A family of assassins, they train all their children to be killers, including with literal torture. Killua is the one of the family who's a main character, the heir of the family, and he eventually runs away due to the dysfunctionality. All the kids are isolated, told they don't deserve friendship, and they all have different opinions on family matters but it affects them all! Illumi wants to control Killua to as extreme a degree as he possibly can, and even though Silva lets Killua leave, he fully expects him to return home and join the family business again, and both him and Zeno knew about Illumi's extreme methods of control." Note: edited for length, full submission here

[whaliiwatching]

diagnoses u with fanfic tags

yeah i caved. welcome spideysona

their universe is 1990s san francisco. by day they work as a struggling writer for the bugle, sort of following in the footsteps of (movie-adjacent) eddie brock; by night they’re spider-scrawl, fighting systemic injustice, writers’ block, and the occasional mad scientist invention. his world is less rife with supernatural evils than most, but he’s also fucking with the government and corporations and all, so it balances out

their unique thing is that they have, like, shitty meta clairvoyance in the form of inherently understanding tropes, clichés, story structure, etc. like if cinemasins/wins were a superhero. they were approached to join the society because miguel thought they’d be chill or even helpful with canon events—unfortunately scribble here is not whatsoever into following rigid plot structure for the sake of unnecessary thematic suffering, saw the plot twist a miles away, and peaced. but not before snagging a day pass so they could watch atsv in person

they never take off their mask, and no one knows their name—he says it’s because he doesn’t want to lose his identity in a sea of spider-people, leading most to theorize that san-fran-spidey is some flavor of peter parker, but who’s to say for sure? the doylist reason, which he is in fact aware of, is that i don’t know either lol

[fuupan]

drew these for heart pirates day and uhhhh ep1115

[hiphopcherrrypop]

a cat with homophobia in its eyes ❤

[solarpunkani]

You know what, while I'm doing hot takes. And this one may be obvious considering I'm actively contributing to hosting the Solarpunk Aesthetic Week event but like.

Dear everyone who's constantly deriding the aesthetic portions of the solarpunk movement/genre; do you just not understand that being able to visualize the future you want is immensely important to being able to work towards it? Being able to get other people on board with it?

When I first got interested in Solarpunk, it wasn't for the hot leftist takes about the top ways to dismantle the government for the people, or top tips on how to build your own solar panel apparatuses. What brought me in? Visions of a hopeful future. I learned and began to love the rest as I dove deeper into solarpunk circles, but there is no denying that my first intro to it--and likely many people's first intro to it--was via the art and aesthetic spheres. The term 'solarpunk' was literally coined to refer to the aesthetic movement, and we've been building up from there ever since.

'When are people going to realize the aesthetic parts don't matter and what really matters is praxis--' dude, the aesthetic parts do matter. Inspiring people does matter. Showing people visions of a hopeful future is immensely important, it's why so many people join this movement. We see glimpses of what a hopeful future could look like, through beautiful art or riveting stories, we're inspired by things like stained glass and organic designs and statues and fashion concepts--and then we think to ourselves 'how can we help make this future happen?' And we learn the praxis and we work towards the goals and we share it with others because that's just how we work.

Seeing isn't always believing, but sometimes in order to believe in something with your whole heart, it helps to be able to visualize what you want. For yourself and for others.

So yes. The aesthetic parts of solarpunk do matter. Thank you for coming to my TEDTalk.

[steddiealltheway]

During season 3, there’s a deleted scene (because I said so) of Max and El’s first spin-the-bottle spy attempt.

The bottle slows to a stop right on Steve's name, and the two girls giggle as El puts the blindfold on.

She finds him in his Scoops Ahoy outfits, and El giggles harder as she tells Max, "He's kissing some girl."

Max gasps, "Who is it?"

El starts walking closer, trying to see who it is, but their hair is covering their face. "Some girl with curly hair."

"Nancy?" Max whispers conspiratorily.

El shakes her head. "Her hair is short. This girl's hair is longer." She starts to turn red, feeling like she's been intruding for too long. She starts to reach up for her blindfold when the person pulls back and says, “Ahoy, Captain.”

Just as Steve groans in irritation, El yanks the blindfold off and freezes. Max shakes her and asks, “What? What happened?”

El pauses, thinking back to the time Mike had to explain why he was so angry when Troy called Will a fairy. She didn’t understand why people were upset about a boy loving another boy, but she understood that it wasn’t something people talked about. Just like she wasn’t allowed to use her powers, Will wasn’t allowed to openly like boys.

So, she just lets out a deep breath and reasons with herself that it isn’t a lie when she says, “They started using tongue.”

While Max shrieks with laughter, El smiles at her, trying not to think of the boy Steve was with.

-:-:-:-:-:-

(An added extra part that is WAY longer than intended. Oops. Coming back after editing to add JSKEHDISBEHSH)

The next year, the information seems to come in handy when Dustin urges El to see if his friend Eddie is still somehow alive in the upside down.

The others are all there, trying to describe what he looks like when Nancy and Jonathan volunteer to run to the school and grab his missing poster for a photo. But the descriptions paint a clear picture in El’s head of someone she’s seen before. Briefly. But she remembers.

Curly hair. Wears lots of rings. Big brown doe eyes and full lips - Steve’s very helpful description.

And El can’t help but turn to Steve and whisper, “Ahoy, Captain?

Steve’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush red. His mouth opens and closes asking, “How-? Why-? When-?”

“Is that him?” El asks firmly.

Steve only nods. Brushing off everyone who asks What does she mean? By telling them to be quiet while El puts on her blindfold.

She finds herself somewhere dark and cold, feeling the familiarity of the place as she seeks out Eddie. She walks around, calling out his name, getting more and more desperate as time goes by.

But she suddenly feels something watching her and quickly turns around, finding Eddie as pale as a ghost staring at her from the ground. She bends down and puts a hand on his face. “We’re coming for you, okay? We’re coming.”

Eddie tilts his head and asks, “Who?”

“Steve,” El automatically says, hoping it’s the right person to name.

The name seems to give Eddie a small bit of hope.

“And Dustin,” El adds. “Dustin’s coming for you.”

Eddie gives her a weak smile and mumbles, “I knew he’d miss me.”

El smiles at the joke. She hears the other people in the room begin to ask if he’s alive, to remind him that someone named Wayne is coming.

El squeezes his cold cheek, hoping some of her warmth will bleed through the connection. “Just hang on a little longer, okay? They say Wayne’s coming too.”

Eddie weakly smiles again and murmurs, “Wayne.” His eyes get heavy, and El shakes him. “Mmm awake,” Eddie slurs. El hears footsteps behind her and turns, not seeing anything, but as she turns back she finds Eddie disappearing.

She reaches out yelling, “No! No! Hold on!”

When he’s completely gone she yanks the blindfold off, weeping as someone pulls her into their chest. She doesn’t hear any of the questions around her as she says, “Run to him. Run!”

But finally, Mike gets through to her and asks, “Did you see Steve there?”

El wipes her eyes and asks, “What?”

“Did you see Steve there?” Mike repeats.

El glances around, noticing that Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Robin are no longer there. “Where-“

“They went to him as soon as you said we’re coming for you. Did you see them there?” Will explains quickly.

El shakes her head. “There were footsteps but… Eddie vanished before I saw anyone.”

Mike looks far off and puts his head in his hands.

They’re too late.

A tense silence passes.

“This is a code green! I repeat this is a code green!” Dustin’s staticky voice rings through the walkie.

The three kids race toward it, Mike grabs it first asking, “He’s okay?”

“He’s alive,” Dustin says, sounding choked up. “He’s alive.”

El sighs in relief and rushes off to the door.

“Where are you going?” Will asks.

“The hospital, come on.”

The trip there is fast, but no one lets them see Eddie yet as he’s still in critical condition. But they all opt to wait as long as they need to get any updates.

El sees Steve eye her for a while before she moves to sit in the chair next to him. She waits for him to talk first.

“So… how did you… know?” Steve asks.

El flushes red and ducks her head. “Max and I were playing this game where we would spin a bottle and-”

“Okay, I know where this is going. Jesus, kid,” Steve mutters.

El glares at him. “We would spin a bottle and see who it landed on to spy on them.”

“Oh,” Steve says, pausing before he suddenly realizes, “You spied on me?”

“Yes,” El replies because friends don’t lie.

Steve flushes red and asks, “So, how much of me and Eddie did you see?”

El leans in to whisper, “You were kissing a lot.”

“Christ,” Steve says, before burying his head in his hands. He slowly looks up at her and asks, “Did you… tell anyone?”

“No.”

Steve sighs and leans back in his chair, staring off.

El can’t help but press on. “Did you love him?”

Steve stops breathing for a second as he considers the question. He turns to her slowly and says, “I did.”

“Did?”

Steve runs a hand over his face. “It’s complicated.”

El pauses and says, “Well, it looked like he really loved you too.” When Steve gives her a look, she adds, “And he looked happy when I said you were coming for him.”

A conflicted look crosses over Steve’s face. “Did he really?”

El nods. “Friends don’t lie.”

Steve smiles and huffs a small laugh. “That’s right.” He hesitates before slinging an arm around El’s shoulder and pulling her into his side as much as he can with the arm of chair being between them. He plants a kiss to her head and whispers, “I’ll give you a lecture later about the spying thing. But for now… thank you.”

El leans into the hug, staying until an older man walks into the room.

“Wayne!” Dustin yells and runs to wrap his arms around him.

El watches as Steve slowly stands up and offers his hand to Wayne when Dustin pulls away. Wayne looks at Steve for a moment before pulling him into a hug.

El wants to ask and know the whole story behind Steve and Eddie and this Wayne person. But she thinks it’s time to look away as Steve breaks down in Wayne’s arms and the older man’s bottom lip quivers. “I know, son. I know.”

-:-:-:-:-:-

They wait for a long time before there’s finally news.

They all collectively hold their breath as the doctor walks into the room. He look over at them all before announcing, “He’s stable.”

A wave of relief floods through the room, but El thinks there’s an added tension when they’re informed that he isn’t allowed visitors yet.

But Wayne follows the doctor out the door and has a very stern word with him before he’s reluctantly allowed to disappear down the hall.

A few minutes later, he comes back to the room and asks, “El?”

El sits up straighter. “Yes?”

“He’s asking for you.”

El glances at all her friends before she stands up and follows (who Dustin had told her is) Eddie’s uncle. As she gets to the room, she looks at all the tubes connected to Eddie’s body, and wonders how he even asked for her.

But as she gets closer to the bed, she sees Eddie’s eyes crack slightly open.

“Lean down so he can whisper to you,” Wayne advises.

El leans closer and hears Eddie says, “I know… how… to get… to Max.”

El leans back and grabs Eddie’s hand. “Show me.”

With that, she’s taken into a vision of horrors, of Eddie dying and coming back. His heart restarted by Vecna for some unknown reason. A vision of all the bodies tied to the tree but Max’s spot is empty. But there’s something there. Something that’s trapped in the empty vines. But just as she sees it, a clock strikes in the distance, and it all begins to disappear.

She gasps as she steps away from Eddie, catching her breath as Wayne asks what the hell is happening.

But she can only run out of the room, heading toward Max’s room knowing where she needs to go to find her and bring her back.

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[hikarry]

So, I was rewatching season 1 and got stuck in that scene between Shadwell and Aziraphale in the bookshop.

What if Aziraphale never stepped into the circle? What if the fire never really happened?

Imagine:

Shadwell is lost in his shenanigans, ready to banish Aziraphale to whatever place witchfinders banish witches, and Aziraphale is slowly walking backward.

"Oh, but this is utterly ridiculous." He stops on his tracks, looking Shadwell in the eye. "I'm sorry, good man, but I have no time for whatever silliness is happening right now. If you don't mind, I have an Armageddon to stop." Aziraphale snaps his fingers, and Shadwell disappears, reapearing a few streets over at the other side of Soho. There surely he wouldn't get in the way.

Careful not to step on the active circle, Aziraphale leaves the bookshop and flags down the first cab he sees. The driver stops right in front of the bookshop, and he gets in, giving him Crowley's address in Mayfair.

The last time he called, the demon was home, so that's exactly where Aziraphale hoped he remained. With a bit of luck, he hadn't left for Alpha Centauri... Now that he thought about it, he mentioned having an old friend over? As far as he knew, he himself was the only friend Crowley had, so that statmebt now sounded like a load of nonsense. But whatever. He just needed to speak with Crowley, old friend present or not. Heaven clearly wanted the war to happen, and he had been naive to think they would see reason. The only chance the Earth had of surviving now was the angel and Crowley. He could only pray it wasn't too late and Crowley wasn't gone. He knew where the Anti-Christ was, after all. They could stop this!

When the cab stopped on the street of Crowley's building, Aziraphale paid his fare and threw a quick blessing in the driver's direction for his speed and efficiency before crossing the street and entering the complex.

He had been to Crowley's flat once or twice in the last 20 years. All he had to do was go through the entrance, get on the lift to the last floor, and walk down the corridor towards the last door. And that's exactly what he did, always fiddling with his fingers in a show of the nervous energy that seemed to take over him. They were running out of time. The end of the world would occur any minute now, and Crowley needed to be home. They still had to drive all the way to Tadfield's airbase, and the clock was tickling rather ominously inside his head.

Finally in front of the door to Crowley's flat, he knocked. A few seconds passed with no response, and he decided to knock again, stronger now, but he got exactly the same result.

Aziraphale looked around the hallway, taking a deep breath and smoothing his waistcoat, considering his options.

"Crowley?" He ended up knocking again. "Crowley, we need to talk!" Silence. "I know you're cross with me after our last conversation, but you were right. I talked to the Metatron. And they want the war. As I told you on the phone, I know where the antichrist is, and it would be very nice of you if you opened the door so we could get a wiggle on and stop the Apocalypse." Once again, he was met with silence.

Was it possible? Did Crowley actually leave for Alpha Centauri? He was here minutes ago! He couldn't have left already, right?

Oh, bless it all. He wasn't going to waste any more time.

With a final deep breath, Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the door unlocked. He opened it slightly, peering inside.

"Crowley? I'm sorry If I'm intruding but this matter is rather urgent." All he got in return was silence. Not a single noise from the demon himself or the so called old friend.

He pushed the remainder of the door open and stepped inside, silently closing it behind him. He looked at the living room, but it was empty of any living soul, apart from the plants on the far wall.

"Crowley?"

Aziraphale called again, now walking towards the office to the left. The door was slightly ajar already, so he spied inside. It looked empty, but he walked in regardless, almost stepping on a pile of goo right there in front of the floor.

"What the...?" He looked down, stepping over the weird substance.

It smelled weirdly of sulfur and...was that Holy Water?

His head snapped to the desk, where he found the thermos he had given Crowley back in the 60s, the cap unscrewed by its side.

Suddenly, he felt his heart stop, and his veins turn into ice. His body gave an involuntary step back away from the smudge, his back hitting the throne as he lifted a now trembling hand to cover his mouth.

No. This couldn't be happening. He would-! Crowley certainly wouldnt-!

A sob escaped his throat as his whole body started shaking.

Oh lord. This was a nightmare. It could only be a nightmare. This wasn't real. Couldn't possibly be real.

Oh Crowley...

Aziraphale's legs failed him, and he ended up on the floor, back leaning against the side of the ridiculous throne Crowley liked so much. Not that he would like anything ever again because he was gone. Crowley was gone. And it was Aziraphale's fault. He was the one who gave him the cursed thermos against his better judgment. And now all his fears were laid bare right in front of his eyes.

Another sob escaped him and he let the heartache take charge, spilling warm tears down his cheeks.

Crowley was gone. The Apocalypse was coming and Crowley was gone. Not to Alpha Centauri but actually gone. Utterly destroyed. And all that remained of his best friend was an unidentifiable goo. Not a trace of Crowley remained.

He hugged himself, hanging his head low, letting the tears fall on his crossed arms and allowing the wretched sobs to take over. He couldn't bear to look at it a second longer. The smell of sulfur and Holy Water was starting to get nauseating.

Well, contrary to popular belief, Crowley was actually very much alive, speeding through the streets on London in the direction of the bookshop. He parked in his usual place and snapped his finger to open the doors of the building.

"Aziraphale?" He looked around, quickly spotting the active circle. Lifting an eyebrow above his sunglasses, he carefully walked towards it, still searching for any trace of the angel. "Aziraphale, are you here?"

The circle was still active with holy energy, so no one had actually stepped through it, and Aziraphale was clearly not in the bookshop, so where could he possibly be?

With a sigh, Crowley turned around and went back to the Bentley. He drove around Soho for a bit, trying to spot some blond curls in the crowd but falling short of success.

"Aziraphale, where the bloody hell are you?" He muttered to himself, carefully scanning the streets, until he gave up, changing his course back to Mayfair.

He needed to regroup. Without knowing where Aziraphale was and without the information on the antichrist he apparently had, Crowley needed to think.

He made his way back to his flat without paying much attention. When he noticed, he was already unlocking the door with his key and stepping inside. And, as soon as he did so, he heard it. Sobs coming from the office. That was...bizarre. Could it be Hastur? Had he figured out a way to leave the answering machine, and now he was crying over Ligur? Crowley almost laughed at himself with such a thought. Hastur? Crying? Now, that would be a sight he would pay to see.

Still, in the name of caution, he slowly made his way to the office, trying to be as silent as possible, when he quickly spotted the angel he had been looking for throught the wide open door, sitting on the floor besides the throne, arms around himself and face hidden while his whole body shook and heartbreaking sobs escaped his vocal chords.

Carefully and confused, he approached, stopping short of the door.

"...Angel?"

Aziraphale's head snapped up, staring at him with wide eyes, his face marked by tears.

"...Crowley?"

"Yeah." He slowly walked his way to the angel, careful not to step on Ligur, squatting in front of him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

He was still staring at him with clear confusing in his eyes, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly until he finally appeared to have found his voice again:

"You-! The-!" Aziraphale's body trembled, looking over Crowley's shoulder and then back at the demon. "You...you're gone!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

"I just went to the bookshop searching for you, but when I arrived you weren't there already." Aziraphale shook his head, some more tears escaping his eyes along with a single sob. "Hey, hey." Crowley placed his hands on his shoulders, squeezing them. "What's-?" And then that's when it suddenly clicked inside his head. He looked up at the empty thermos on his desk and back over his shoulder to what remained of Ligur. "Oh, Aziraphale. No, no, no." His hands moved up to Aziraphale's face, forcing him to look up at him, his thumb brushing away some of the new tears running down his face. It burned considerably; angel tears were holy water after all, but right now, that wasn't his focus. "That's Ligur. I used the holy water to make a trap for him and Hastur when they came to take me." He brushes his thumb through Aziraphale's trembling lips, leaning in closer. "That's not me, angel. I'm alright."

Aziraphale sniffed, trying to regain control of himself, but failing miserably.

"I-I thought you were dead. I thought you had used the Holy Water. I thought-"

"Shhh." Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel, leaning his face against his, pulling him into an embrace. They had never hugged before, so it felt a bit strange. Awkward even. "I'm right here. That's not me." The angel grabbed handfuls of his shirt and pulled him closer, burying his face on the crook of his neck, taking deep breaths. "Yeah, that's it. Breathe." He ran his hand through his curls, trying to soothe him. "Everything is alright. I'm right here."

After a while, Aziraphale finally calmed down and moved away, just enough to be able to look at Crowley's face. For a moment or two, they just stared at each other. Aziraphale's red rimmed blue eyes looking right at Crowley's yellow ones; his sunglasses had ended up on his head at some point. The angel's eyes slipped down to the demon's lips for a second and Crowley's licked them involuntarily, before his gaze went back to his eyes.

"You were right." Crowley tilted his head in confusion. "I talked to the Metraton. They want the war to happen...The Anti-Christ..." Aziraphale mumbled those last words.

"Right." Crowley stared down at Aziraphale for a couple more seconds before getting up, offering his hand to the angel to help him do the same. "You said you knew where he was?"

[diazsdimples]

HC: Tommy has a cat who doesn't like many people, but she always demands cuddles from Buck.

Anon, you sparked a Thing™️

Tommy tells Buck he has a cat fairly early on in their relationship. She's his baby, as he calls her. He's had her since he came out to L.A, having adopted her from a shelter a few months into him working with the 118.

One of the first selfies Buck receives is of Tommy lying on his bed, and the cat curled up protectively on his chest. She's a tabby with a dusting of white around her nose that makes Buck wonder about her age. The way Tommy talks about her makes her sound like a kitten, fresh from the womb, but Buck suspects she's probably around 13-14 years old.

When Buck goes to Tommy's apartment for the first time, he warns him about her. Buck can tell Tommy's a little nervous with the way he keeps glancing back at the lounge as he talks, as if he's expecting the cat to give him some big lecture about bringing a boy home without her express permission.

"Now, don't take it personally if Luna ignores you. She hates pretty much everyone," Tommy says as he kisses Buck's cheek and drags him inside the apartment.

It's a nice place, pretty much exactly what Buck expected from his boyfriend (is that what they are now? Boyfriends?). It's full of trinkets from Tommy's life, but it isn't cluttered - a perfect mixture of clean and chaotic, exactly like Tommy himself.

Tommy keeps his hand on the small of Buck's back as he guides him through to the lounge. Buck likes the way Tommy touches him. It makes him feel safe, grounded, as though Tommy could catch him if he falls.

Tommy' s got a couch not too dissimilar to Eddie's, but a deep maroon rather than blue. And there, right in the middle and nestled among a mess of blankets that Tommy has clearly set up for her, lies the person (creature?) in Tommy's life that Buck has been the most anxious to meet.

Tommy makes a chirping noise with his lips and Luna's ears perk up. Slowly, as though her very bones are creaking, she untangles herself from the blankets and hops down from the couch with a quiet "brrrpp". She stretches deeply, ears flattening against her head and eyes screwing shut, and the look of pure bliss that crosses her face is enough to capture Buck's entire heart.

Buck looks at Tommy for guidance as Luna gingerly walks over to him and looks up at him with big, beseeching eyes.

"Go on," Tommy prompts, giving Buck a small nudge with his elbow. "Let her sniff your hand."

Buck crouches and stretches out his hand towards Luna, offering her the backs of his fingers.

"Hi Luna," he almost whispers as she eyes him suspiciously. "I'm Buck, your dad's - uh - friend."

Tommy scoffs from behind him. "I think we're well past the friend stage, Evan."

"I didn't know - I'm sorry - I'm your dad's boyfriend," he corrects, looking back up at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy nods, looking pleased. "Much better."

Buck just about leaps out of his skin when a wet nose touches his hand, and he turns back to see that Luna's moved closer, and is sniffing his fingers with interest. He holds stock still, remembering Tommy's words about her crotchety temperament and not wanting to frighten her, lest she bite him, or worse, run away.

Luna continues her sniffing, tiny pink nose moving minutely as she inhales, and then, much to Buck's shock, she rubs her whole face against his hand, with what can only be described as a smug purr.

"I-" Buck begins, looking back at Tommy with wide eyes. Tommy himself looks a little stunned, clearly thrown by his cat's rare display of affection.

"Huh," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Buck and Luna with a deeply fond expression. "She's never done that before!"

Luna sits back on her haunches and gives a loud, croaky yowl, as though she's been a chain-smoker for most of her life. She nudges her head against Buck's hand and meows once again.

"I think she wants you to sit down," Tommy says, barely concealing his laughter at Buck's bewildered face. He takes Buck gently by the arm and gives him a quick kiss before directing him to the couch.

"I thought you said she hates everyone?" Buck questions, almost numbly as he allows Tommy to push him onto the plush cushions. The moment his ass has touched the couch, Luna leaps up beside him with a pleased chirp and climbs into his lap.

"She does," Tommy grins as he pulls out his phone, taking a quick snap of his extremely confused boyfriend and even more contented cat. "Clearly she has good taste."

Luna's purring is reaching volumes previously unknown to man, drowning out all other noise in the room as she begins to make biscuits against Buck's thigh. Her claws are sharp and needle-like, pricking into Buck's skin but he's too stunned to do anything more than mutely pet her silky fur.

"Wh-what do I do now?" Buck asks, looking at Tommy for guidance. He'd been expecting to possibly see a streak of Luna's fur as she raced across the apartment to hide under Tommy's bed - her favourite place apparently - but now here he is with a whole ass cat on his lap, one who apparently loves him and hates every other guest Tommy's ever had over, and Buck really has no clue where to go from here.

Tommy chuckles and reaches over to scratch behind Luna's ears before leaning forward and capturing Buck's lips in a soft kiss, his fingers gently caressing Buck's chin.

"Stay there, I'll go get us a beer," he says as he pulls away, and leaves Buck in the lounge with Luna. She's curled up completely in his lap now, tail tucked over her paws, and every so often she tilts her head up towards him, demanding scritches that he is more than happy to provide her with.

Tommy returns with two beers and hands one to Buck before flopping next to him on the couch, looping an arm around Buck's shoulders.

"I guess you've gotta stay forever now, Luna's not gonna let you leave," he jokes, and something twists in Buck's stomach, making him a little giddy.

He really likes Tommy - hell, he might even love the guy - but receiving the seal of approval from his cat is probably the biggest step in their relationship to date. Well, it really isn't but is sure feels like that. Like he's being welcomed into the family.

Buck sighs happily and rests his head against Tommy's shoulder, a small shiver rushing through him as Tommy noses his hairline, his lips brushing ever so gently against Buck's temple.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

[stevesbipanic]

@steddielovemonth Day 24: Love is the only thing we can take with us. 

@thefreakandthehair

Steve looked around his room, it would be the last time he did. He could hear his parents still arguing downstairs. He knew he didn't have a lot of time, soon he'd hear his father's footsteps coming up the stairs.

"You're no son of mine!"

Steve hadn't felt like his son in a long time anyway. When he thought of dads he thought of Hopper at his graduation or Wayne watching the game with him. He'd called Hopper, Dad, when he woke up in the hospital and saw the previously dead police chief at his bedside. No, Steve Harrington hadn't been Richard Harrington's son in a long time.

He knew he didn't have much time, but he'd been planning for this moment, the day they would find out. It was inevitable, small town, nosy neighbours. Steve kept his room impersonal for a reason, it wouldn't last forever. Kneeling quickly he grabbed his box, it was all he would need.

The clothes he actually liked wearing weren't in this closet anymore, the beemer had always been in his name. Nothing else in the house mattered but this box. The last piece of Steve in these four walls.

"Steven?"

He'd asked her to call him Steve all his life, she didn't.

"Can't you see what you're doing to your mother?"

Maria Harrington hadn't been Steve's mother in a long time. Mothers were there for their kids when they woke up from nightmares. Claudia never judged when he woke up screaming on the couch. A true mother looked after their son when he was sick in bed, soup and comfort and love. Joyce brought him soup last winter, when the flu had him stuck in bed, he didn't even call, she just knew.

"I know, I'm leaving now."

"Please, Steven, there are places we can go to fix you," she cried. Mothers don't think their kid's heart needs fixing.

"You were supposed to be a real man!" Richard yelled as he passed him down the stairs. Fathers are proud of their sons growing into protectors and carers.

"This will never be your home again!" Was the last thing Steve heard as he closed his car door and placed the small box on the passenger seat. Parents always have a home waiting for you, even when they think you're wrong.

"Steve?"

Wayne is the first one to spot him as he arrives at the trailer. It's sunday, family dinner at the rotating family table. Tonight was meant to be at the Munsons.

"Steve, honey? You ok?" Joyce is the first one to touch him, worry in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, son." Hopper is the first one to read his teary eyes like a book. They all knew where he'd been.

Claudia gingerly took the box from him, "I'll put this in your room, sweetheart, let Eddie know you're back home."

Steve could hear the kids yelling around the picnic table outside; could smell dinner cooking. Robins laughter piercing though the air and Eddie's boombox playing loudly.

"Baby?"

There he was.

"Hey, Eds, think we'll have to move up that moving date, if it's ok?"

Eddie's features softened from worry to sympathy, "Course, sunshine, although I'm still surprised Joyce and Hop didn't kidnap you months ago.

Later, when he'd given everyone hugs goodbye, some were a bit tighter than others, he sat on the bed with his box.

"You wanna unpack that alone, or want help?"

"You can look, it's not a secret, just special," Steve replied, patting the space next to him. Eddie plopped himself down beside his boyfriend, lifting the lid.

Inside was a mess of bits and pieces. Eddie reached in and took out a stack of photos. Steve at his graduation, a big smile with Hopper's arm around his shoulders, Dustin beaming beside him. Robin putting Steve in a headlock at the quarry last summer, he refuses to say he let her win. Eddie at his first show back, scars on full display. And countless other memories.

There were also little toys from the arcade and pebbles and ticket stubs and letters and a full life story of one Steve Harrington told through the love of his family.

"This was all I went back to get, all I needed. Wasn't expecting them to know about you already, but I knew they'd find out one day. Couldn't let them have this, not after they spent so long trying to take my heart from me."

"I think it's high time we clear some space around here for all this, Stevie, time to let your love be out on full display."

When Steve fell asleep that night, wrapped in the arms of a boy who went to hell from him and staring at the new photos on the wall, he truly felt home.

[marshmallowgoop]

no thoughts just Heiji Hattori (HD)