#could they possibly look more like a couple

[sttoru]

outlaw!toji who initially kidnapped you for money, to rob you from your valuable belongings, eventually forms a strange attachment to you. he can’t help but feel a faint twinge of guilt for robbing a pretty and delicate little thing like you.

so, he decides to let you return to your beloved family in town. though he does not let you go completely.

every now and then when toji is passing by the town you reside in - avoiding sheriffs and other people whom could possibly recognise him from the wanted posters plastered on every wall - he looks for you.

of course, you freak out the first time he sneaked up on you. however slowly yet surely, you let your guard down. the outlaw didn’t harm you in any way after all.

“how ‘re ya doin’, princess?” toji would always greet you with that signature, cocky smirk of his, leaning against a nearby wall with his arms crossed over his chiseled chest or his hands on his worn gun belt.

sometimes you reply quickly, but on other occasions you indulge him and continue the conversation. it’s often at night that he visits you, so you have less of a chance to get caught together.

you don’t know when or how toji found out where your family’s house is. he simply started showing up at your balcony once in a while, just to catch up. after a couple times, you even let him in.

those nightly visits swiftly turned into something more intimate. it feels so wrong yet so right. a dangerous criminal who’s killed hundreds, who had even kidnapped you one day, being invited into your bed— how scandalous.

though you can’t help it. his callused yet warm hands that touch your skin, his burly body that presses you into the mattress just right, his slightly chapped lips that nip at your flesh and leave marks. . . you don’t regret a thing.

especially when you’re both catching your breath after an intense encounter. toji’s muscular body, filled with countless of scars, blankets yours easily. his arms cradle you to his bare chest afterwards and all you can do is relax against him.

“i think i really hit the jackpot with ya, aye? may not have robbed ya of yer stuff that day, but i got ma prize money one way or ‘nother,” the rugged outlaw grins as he lights up a cigar and holds it between his lips.

you can’t even tell him off for smoking in your room. toji’s fingers massage your scalp so good to the point you’re putty in his hands. the scent of tobacco is also comforting. it’s one you associate with him, because he always smells like it. it’s always a combination of tobacco, nature, horses and gunpowder.

toji knows that he has to leave before anyone comes checking in on you, but he can’t leave you when you look so adorable, clinging onto him like a lifeline.

every time he visits, it’s the same exciting story.

when toji is in a more sentimental mood, he takes you out on a ride. he settles you on the back of his horse, speeding off into the sunset, letting you enjoy the view outside of town.

the beautiful freedom that comes with the life of an outlaw. the freedom of seeing nature in all its glory. you get to experience it all.

at times, when you’re out and about, he takes his chance and teaches you how to handle a gun. toji knows you’ve been spoiled rotten by your parents growing up, so you probably haven’t touched a gun a day in your life. that’s where he comes in.

“oi, watch out. yer gonna blow my fuckin’ face off, girl,” toji grunts with a faint chuckle as he notices your clumsy hand gestures while holding his revolver. it’s endearing, truly. he doesn’t yet understand why it warms his heart to see you try and shoot at the targets he set up.

what the outlaw loves more than that, is when you’re both resting against a large oak tree, with his head on your lap. especially after he gets back from a long and successful heist in a far away town.

toji often lets his cowboy hat cover his face while he naps and uses your thighs as the perfect, plush pillow. the gentle breeze only adds to the perfect moment.

when you take his stetson and put it on your head instead in a innocent gesture, he lazily opens one eye and raises a brow in amusement.

“oh? that yer way of telling me y’ want a ride?” toji teases before pinching your cheek. he loves seeing that flustered expression on your face when you’re once again reminded of the cowboy hat rule he taught you the other day.

toji never misses the opportunity, however. he sits up and leans back against the tree trunk, patting his thick thighs which he spreads lightly.

“hop on f’ me then, pretty. show me how good of a cowgirl y’ are, yeah?”

well, briefly said, it’s never a dull moment with outlaw!toji.

[dreamsteddie]

AITA Steddie Au Part Three

Part Two

Hello! Sorry for the delay! This week was very busy with student conferences and my own midterms so I haven't had a lot of time to work on this. This is more of an interlude building up to bigger things, but I hope you enjoy it!

Also! Get in the comments if you have any ideas of an actual name for this series so I can stop calling it AITA Steeddie Au. I can't think of anything good 😓

------

Eddie takes Steve on that second date.

And then a third and a fourth and eventually he stops counting because he's seeing Steve as often as he can between their jobs and other responsibilities. He feels high off it, giddy with possibility and hope for this new thing that he's never had before.

Eddie has done relationships before, a couple of times. A small handful of boys and girls he took out on dates and tried his best to woo all went up in flames one way or another, but none of those relationships left him feeling so gone so fast. He felt like he was always holding himself back from giving himself up completely, too afraid of falling without a safety net to reach for that deep devotion he's always craved.

Steve makes him feel like they're plunging into that unknown together.

Still, no matter how much he's been trying to avoid it, the looming specter of what the hell to do about his friends is looming over his head.

------

"Are you fucking serious right now dude?" Eddie asks, a complicated mix of righteous anger, humiliation for himself and Steve, and complete disbelief at Gareth's unwillingness to back down from this making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool.

"Look man, all I'm saying is that Steve is like, the complete antithesis of literally everything we stand for. He's a nepo baby business major who's never had an original thought in his life! I would know! I've read one of his papers." Gareth says, forced nonchalance coloring his tone and riling Eddie up even more.

He rears up, shoulders pushing back and hands grasping at the air like he could pull down his frustration from the either and condense it into a solid ball he could lob at Garteth's head to finally knock some goddamn sense into his brain.

"Hey, hey, hey. Okay, Eddie, I'm really sorry about this. It was a fucked up idea, I don't know what we were thinking." Jeff interveins before the frustrated banshy noises Eddie is letting out turn into another yelling match that won't get anyone anywhere.

"I think we just got too caught up wanting to help you get out of this rut and it all turned into something completely insane. You don't gotta forgive us Eddie, but if there's anything we can do to try and make up for it, we'll do it. Isn't that right Gareth?" Jeff pointedly asked with a look that says agree with me right now or else.

Gareth doesn't say anything.

The thing about all of this that Eddie just can't wrap his head around is the why. Why would his friends, his sheepies, do something so cruel? He knows none of them have ever looked kindly at people like Steve. Too many traumatizing high school humiliations behind them all to trust when someone who looks so much like all the guys who bullied them in high school tries to reach out, but Gareth and Jeff have never tried something like this. In fact, it's used to be Eddie doing most of the anti-jock revenge planning back in the day, even if nothing ever actually came from it.

He thought, incorrectly it seems, that they had grown out of the worst of it by now. It's been three years since Garteth graduated, and five since Eddie made his final attempt, and leaving their hometown behind did a lot to heal old hurts.

So why this? Why now?

"Is this seriously how it's going to be man? You won't tell me what the fuck any of this was really about and you're not even going to try and apologize? Seriously?" The righteous anger is starting to seep out of him, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.

Gareth just continues to stare at him defiantly, not saying a word.

Eddie pinches his nose and takes a deep breath, "You know what? Fine. Whatever. If this is how it's going to be then I'm out. Jeff, I'll talk to you later, probably not for a little bit though. Gareth?" The other man lifts his head from where he'd been looking down at his shoes. There were tears in his eyes, just a little bit but enough for Eddie to clock it. Face red from some unnamed cocktail of emotions Eddie doesn't have the energy or desire to interrogate right now. "Call me when you're ready to grow the fuck up. I've got a second date to plan."

With that, Eddie turned on his heel and made for the open garage door.

"What about the band, man?!" Gareth called.

Eddie kept walking.

-------

That was over four weeks ago.

He hasn't spoken to Gareth for most of that time. The first couple of days he blew up his phone with angry to half-apologizing texts that Eddie promptly ignored. After the second day, he sent a single text back letting him know he didn't want to talk unless he had a real explanation and apology to give both him and Steve and that he was going to block his number for a little while. He could let Freak know if he was ever ready to talk like adults. Eddie trusted him to tell if Gareth was being genuine.

In other news.

Waking up to strong arms secured around his naked waist is fast becoming Eddie's favorite way to start the day. He and Steve slept together for the first time last week, and since then it's like neither of them can get enough of each other.

"Hey, baby." Steve rasps in his ear, tilting his head down to smear sleepy kisses onto his shoulder. The hand that was resting against his ribs meanders its way down to the trail of hair under his navel, scratching just a little and making Eddie feel like a contented mutt. He's not sure if he should feel horny or like he could sink into the mattress and sleep for another full 8 if Steve keeps holding him like his.

"Mornin' sweetheart." he says deciding that a couple more hours of sleep is definitely the way to go. Steve, it seems, has other idead.

"What you thinkin' about this early in the morning?" He asks, hand continuing to scratch lazily at Eddie's stomach like he's not completely destroying Eddie's will and ability to focus on anything but the warm body behind him.

But it's been a long time coming, and as much as he doesn't want to, Eddie needs to start thinking about what he wants to do about his friends? former friends? estranged family? band and Steve deserves to be a part of the conversation.

Eddie sits up, bringing Steve up with him to rest against the headboard. "I've been thinking about the band. Gareth and Jeff, that is." He pauses, waits for some kind of reaction that doesn't come. Steve looks concerned, but not in the way he thought he would.

"Ok." Steve responds, waiting for more.

"I guess I just don't know what to do." He looks out into the middle distance of Steve's bedroom. Takes in the display of swim, basketball, and baseball trophies displayed proudly on a shelf, catching the early morning light. "I'm still so fucking mad. It's honestly kind of irritating how mad it makes me to think of what they did. It was so fucking stupid."

Steve hums a little, letting Eddie get it out.

"But at the same time I can't help but fucking miss them. Miss the music and the campaigns and everything else." It's honestly been eating him alive, the mix of anger and longing he's been feeling for his friends. The constant longing to go back in time and stop them from concocting this shit show but also, like, stalk Gareth to his 8 AM Business class so he can run into Steve and they can fall in love at first sight or some shit.

Silence.

Steve shifts. Moves so he can look Eddie right in the face. He looks thoughtful in a way that Eddie had to get used to. Sometimes when Steve is thinking hard about something, he scrunches his face in such a way that it makes him look like he's judging you. He isn't, it's just an unfortunate fact of life that his baby has a resting Judgemental Face™.

Steve heaves out a big breath, bringing Eddie back down to earth. "I mean, I don't want to, like, cloud your judgement or whatever but maybe you should try and talk to them one more time. Jeff appologized right?"

And, ok that's definetly not what Eddie was expecting to hear. It must show on his face because Steve is suddenly looking away, embaraced.

"I just..." He trails off, taking his own turn staring out at the dull shine of his old acomplishments. Eddie watches as his face once again turns pensive as he stares harder at the remnents of his high school acheivements.

"I used to be a pretty shitty guy. Did the same kind of shit your buddies did a couple of times." This isn't necessarily news to Eddie. They've talked a little about who Steve was in high school and how much work he put into himself before he decided to go back to college. It's still a bit of a shock to hear, though.

"So I get how someone can make a mistake like that, y'know? So if you want to try and talk it out, I won't be offended. I know we're in this together, now." Peace said, Steve reaches for Eddie's hand and gives it a squeeze.

It hits Eddie again, just how good Steve Harrington is. It hasn't been long, not really, since they got together but they've fallen together so completley, so easily, that it's easy to forget that there's still so much they have to learn, so many layers for Eddie to peal back. Behind every judgemental remark and complaint about the frequent phone calls he gets from chuldren he used to babysit in his hometown is a man who cares deeply and is capable of great forgiveness, even if it hasn't been earned yet.

Eddie squeezes his hand back.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, it's not we have to totally forgive them, right? But I think you need to get a real answer from both of them about why it happened. Maybe you can find a way past it, maybe they'll say something that puts the nail in the coffin." He responds.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and thinks.

Steve is right. Eddie isn't satisfied with any of the answers he got last time, and he knows that there has to be more to the story than "trying to get Eddie out of a rut" and he's not going to be able to put any of this to rest until he understands.

"Ok, yeah. I'll call them." Steve gives him an encouraging smile at that, rubbing the back of Eddie's hand where they haven't let go yet.

"Good, I'm glad. And I can come with you if you want. Hit em from both sides." he says. Eddie think's he'll take him up on that offer, but right now he had more imporant things to do. Namely, tackling his sweet boyfriend onto the mattress and having a mid morning tousle.

"We'll see. Right now I've got more imporant things to do." He says in his best aproximation of a sultry voice. He doesn't know how good it really is, but it seems to work based on the way Steve's eyes get hooded and he looks down at Eddie's mouth.

Gotcha.

Before Steve can lean down and kiss him, Eddie snaps his hands down to his boyfriend's sides in a well executed tickle atack. Steve immedietly jolts and starts howling with laughter, yelling between breaths that Eddie is "a fucking asshole" as he continues his relentless atacks.

Eventually, Steve manages to regain his bearings and go on the offence, turning them over and trapping his boyfriend's hands beneath his knees so he can atack Eddie's equally ticklish sides.

Once the late morning has passes into early noon and they've both settled back into Steve's signifigantly more rumpled be, Eddie takes one more moment to think about the furute to come before he shelves it. He knows that whatever conversation is to come, it won't be easy, and even if things go as smoothly as possible with Gareth and Jeff, things will never be the same between them all.

Looking down at Steve, who is sporting the most outrageous bedhead in human history, laughing at the stream of reals Robin sent him in the middle of the night, he thinks he'll be okay either way.

Tag List

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[ailithnight]

D'ya think somewhere in the middle of this, trying to stay on top of the ghosts and avoid the Titans, Danny might just... stop going back to his human life?

Like, he'd already been withdrawing since before the Titans arrived. Then this whole mess with the living heroes, pushing himself to be more and more proactive. What if one day he just didn't go back home at all? What would everyone think?

Hanging out with his friends less and less, skipping or sleeping through classes, missing curfews, neglecting chores, not even showing up for meal times. All major red flags. Someone was bound to notice them, right? And then Danny Fenton just doesn't show up anywhere for a whole day and... really what is anyone supposed to think? What could they possibly imagine except that there's a body to find somewhere.

And let's say Danny hears the rumors before making it home. Probably has a big ole crisis about it. Feels super guilty about making his friends and family worry like that. Wants to rush home right away to set things straight.

But then, he pauses, thoughts slowly sliding through the molasses of his exhausted mind. And it occurs to him, if he goes home, they'll be watching him. If they think he suicidal, Jazz at least wouldn't let him out of her sight for who knows how long.

How would he keep the ghosts in check then? And especially with these strangers in town, who have this weird habit of running straight into the danger zone every time, Danny has to keep the ghosts in check. So... so maybe he shouldn't. At least not until he can get things under control.

He can, he can reassess afterwards. See if there's still a place in the world for Danny Fenton once Phantom cleans up his mess. If Phantom can clean up his mess. If there's ever time to be Fenton again. If not, well, this was the eventuality anyway.

.

After about two weeks of trying to catch up with and talk to Phantom, the Titans are approached by a small group of teens. A couple of freshmen and a junior. The group looks worn down, exhausted, and aggrieved. They ask the Titans if they are heroes. Once conformed, they say they want to make a deal. The junior offers a thermos of a by now familiar design. The freshman boy claims himself an expert in getting tech to work in Amity Park. The freshman girl says she has a grand collection of old occult texts they could use for research.

The trio wants to help, in any way they can, the Titans get their talk with the Ghost Boy. And all they want in turn is answers. They want to know, not just be told the likely scenario, they want to know what happened to their friend and brother. The missing teen the Titans heard about but hadn't considered a priority to divert attention from their investigation into this ghost business. What happened to Danny Fenton?

The Titans set out to investigate a town rumored to be haunted. There they find a ghost boy tirelessly defending his town alone.

[shanastoryteller]

Dean’s minding his own business, sipping on a beer and leering at the bartender, when a guy that admittedly has about four inches and a good twenty pounds of muscle on him storms over and shoves him in the arm.

He tenses, getting to his feet and preparing for a fight even as he’s wondering what he did to piss him off. Maybe the bartender’s his girl? Jesus, Dean was just looking, he can’t get mad at just looking when his girl look likes that.

“Dude, what the hell?” the guy demands. “I know you’re pissed at me right now, but just leaving me back there – do you know how many bars it took to find you? You’re a jackass.”

He’s not taking a swing, instead standing with crossed arms – fuck, this guy is huge, he’d really like to avoid a fight here – and scowling at him, his long hair falling into his eyes as he looks down at him. Dean wishes he had any idea what was going on right now. “Look, man, relax.” The guy’s eyes narrow, his shoulders lifting and expanding as he takes in a deep breath, as if he needs any help to look bigger. Before he can say anything, Dean adds, “I think you’ve got me confused with someone else.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay. Fuck off.” He presses his lips together, somehow appearing smaller in the next moment without actually moving. “Look, I know you’re mad about heaven, you’ve made that pretty fucking clear, but you can’t just walk off and turn off your phone. I figured you were just being an ass, but something could have happened to you. If you’re ignoring me, at least let me know you’re ignoring me.”

The guy doesn’t look like he’s tweaking, or suffering some sort of head injury. His eyes are clear and his voice is steady. But Dean has no idea what he’s talking about. “Dude, you’ve really got me confused with someone else.”

“Dean!” he snaps, which woah, okay, he wasn’t expecting that. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing,” he says. “How do you know my name?”

He stares at him, uncertainty entering his eyes for the first time. “Are you feeling okay? You didn’t come across Zachariah or a witch or something in the past couple hours?”

He doesn’t know who Zachariah is, but the casual mention of witches makes him frown. Is this guy a hunter or something? He figures he’d remember meeting him, but maybe not.

“Everything okay over here?” Dad’s hand lands heavily on his shoulder, and Dean shifts enough to see him giving the guy a hard stare that has sent more than one man running in the other direction.

Dean almost rolls his eyes – he’s thirty one years old, he doesn’t need his dad coming over to save him – but he makes the effort so rarely that Dean can’t help but be warmed by it.

The guy pales, mouth dropping open as he stares at Dad like he’s seen a ghost. “You – Christo.”

Okay, definitely a hunter. Dad raises an eyebrow. “I’m not a demon.”

The guy grabs for Dean, yanking on his hand. Dean jerks back, but he’s already gotten his long fingers around his ring. He pulls it off and Dean is about to break his jaw to get it back, but he tosses it to Dad, who catches it on instinct. Dean doesn’t get it until he does. His ring is silver. He’s checking if Dad is a shifter, which okay, that’s one thing. Dean’s more concerned about how he knows his ring is silver. The guy’s voice cracks when he says, “Dad?”

Dad raises an eyebrow. “I think you’re a little confused.”

“Dean, what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing onto the sleeve of his jacket. Dean should push him off. “What,” his gaze drops down, and if possible he goes even paler. “Oh. Oh, fuck.”

Dean looks down, sees the guy’s eyes stuck on his amulet. “What?”

“I don’t understand,” he says, biting on his lower lip. “Is this some sort of – but you’re still hunters. Is Mom alive?”

Dean flinches.

“Okay,” Dad says. “That’s enough. You walk this off or whatever, but you do it somewhere else–”

“Dad, it’s me,” he says plaintively. “It’s Sam. Your son.”

Dean doesn’t remember moving, only that the next moment his hands are fisted in the front of this asshole’s shirt, his blood thrumming under his skin. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

He puts his hands on Dean’s wrists, stupid earnest and soft and Dean’s going to kick his ass. “Dean. It’s me. I have to exist in this world, right? The demon was after me, if I wasn’t here then there wouldn’t have ben a fire, Mom wouldn’t have died, you guys wouldn’t be hunters. I have to be around somewhere.”

Dean tries to shove him away, but he won’t let go of his hands. “Shut up! You don’t – don’t talk about my family.”

The worst thing he ever did, his biggest failure. Sometimes the weight of it gets to be so heavy that it feels like it should be cracking his ribs, pressing his heart until it bursts. Sometimes he wishes it would.

He swallows before letting go with one hand and reaching into his pocket to pull something out. It takes Dean a moment to see it’s his amulet, the one he’s worn since he was twelve years old, back when Bobby still talked to them. “My name is Samuel Winchester. I was named after my mother’s father. I was born on May 2, 1983. When I was eight years old, Bobby gave me this amulet. He said it was a protection charm. I was originally planning to give it to Dad for Christmas, but he didn’t show up. Another in a long line of disappointments, right? So I gave it to you instead. Because even when you’re being a jerk, you’ve never let me down.”

Dean’s eyes are burning. He tries to shake off his grip, but he won’t let go. Why is Dad just standing there? “Stop! Stop. I don’t know what game you’re playing–”

“No game,” he says, gentle voice a counterpoint to the grip that’s absolutely going to bruise. “I need you to believe me, Dean, please–”

“My brother died when he was six months old,” he cuts him off. “Samuel Winchester is dead. He’s been dead for twenty six years.”

His fault, his fault, all his fault. If he’d just listened to Dad –

“Not where I’m from,” he says, and it’s crazy, it’s all crazy. “Please. Ask me anything. I’ll prove it. Hell, let’s go to a clinic, we can take a DNA test. I’m Sam. I’m your brother. And I need your help.”

“You mentioned a demon,” Dad says quietly.

The guy, who’s not Sam, who can’t be Sam, tears his eyes away from Dean to look at Dad. “Yeah. Azazel. The yellow eyed demon.”

Dad rubs a hand over his mouth. “I never told anyone about that.”

Dean snaps his head towards Dad. “What? You said you didn’t know what killed Mom! That we were searching for it!”

“We are,” Dad says. “It never resurfaced again. I’ve been looking for the signs.”

The guy frowns. “He started up again when I was twenty two.”

“Not here,” Dad says, looking him up and down, something hungry in his eyes.

Dad believes him. Dad thinks that this is Sammy.

“Let’s discuss this back at the room,” Dad says. “Come on.”

He heads towards the door, sure that he’s going to be followed. The – Sam, maybe Sam, he rolls his eyes, but goes after him. He only stops when his grip on Dean’s wrist jerks him back, because Dean’s not moving, can’t make himself move. He flushes, letting go of Dean finally, but he takes a step closer. His eyebrows pull together in concern, and now that Dean’s looking, he sort of sees it, sees the planes of Dad’s face and his eyes in this stranger with his brother’s name. “Hey, are you okay?”

No.

“Let’s go,” he says, striding forward, shoulders hunched.

Sam falls into step beside him easily, matching his strides like it’s second nature. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat and tries to pretend it means nothing.

[milktiicup]

Can you make a Mr. Silver or Mr.Machete fic. I've barely seen any fics of them :(, just kinda been consuming what I can for a fic. The most common ones I encounter are Mr.Crawling and Mr.Scarletta (which I've finished all of them possibly)...

Any tag is good, fluff, angst, uh... smut? I'm just gonna read anything since I'm so content-deprived 😭

anatomy of feeling

He saw you as a research subject, and you doubt he even saw you as a friend. And yet, you let him cut you open, spread you apart and put you back together. The least he could do is kiss you in return, right?

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🌊 ⋅ ˚✮ hhelellooooo have this mr silvair fic realising he actually kinda likes u lol

warnings. AAAAAAAANGST, unrequited feelings (kind of), mr silvair typical research (u know what i mean), hurt/comfort, HAPPY ENDING! :D

You don’t mind being a test subject- you were too far gone to even consider going home anymore. You were human, you were monster- and now you’re somewhere in between that you don’t have anywhere you can exactly call home, but Mr. Silvair was ‘kind’ enough to lend you his room, a bed to sleep on, all in exchange of hacking your body to a mushy pile of meat from time to time!

It’s not an ideal situation to be in, head over heels on the guy who researches your body inside out- and it’s not like he even likes you- you’re not even sure if Mr. Silvair is one to understand romantic feelings, anyway.

You remember the first day he indulged you- missing human skin to skin contact, missing a real connection to somebody. Mr. Gap had so kindfully lent you a magazine from the human world, and you can only imagine he gave you it free of charge because you were so down. Of course, it just had to be a magazine promoting some romance movie, the lead couple all snuggled up and kissing on the front page.

You broke down crying. You mean, of course Mr. Gap meant well, but really? It was an embarrassing state you were in, fat tears running down your face and dropping onto your legs.

Mr. Silvair had found you, obviously. Your new home was a research room. 

“You okay?” he asked, lips tugging into a frown. “Pain? Hurt?”

“Sad,” you corrected, using your raincoat sleeve to dry your eyes. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Me sad. Miss home. Want home.”

Mr. Silvair kneeled down in front of you. “This home.”

You bit your lip, and looked away. “Miss…” Stuff? Things? “...stuff from home.” You gesture to the magazine. “Humans. Touch.”

“Miss this?” he questioned, taking a seat beside you. He picked up the magazine, eyeing the front cover through his bandaged eyes, and flipped through the pages momentarily. “What miss?” 

You pointed to the front page. “...This ‘kiss.’”

“Mouth touch?”

You nodded. “Mouth touch.”

“Kish?”

You shook your head. “Kisssss,” you hissed the words out. 

“Kisssss,” he repeated, your hiss echoing.

You giggled, cheeks still wet from your tears. You wipe your eyes once more. “Miss kiss. Miss hug. Miss… human touch.”

Mr. Silvair set the magazine down and faced you. He patted the spot next to him, and you scooched yourself over. He tilted his head at you, a smile on his face. “Me kiss you?” he asked, and you froze. “Kiss you, you happy. Interested in kiss.”

The weight of his words settled over you like an uncertain storm. You studied Mr. Silvair’s face. The suggestion caught you off guard, yet his sincerity was unmistakable.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came. Could he even comprehend what he was offering? Did he understand what kissing meant to humans, or was he simply trying to imitate the concept based on your longing? He had always been practical, clinical even, in his interactions.

Who were you kidding? Of course he doesn’t understand. He saw you as a research subject, and you doubt he even saw you as a friend. And yet, you let him cut you open, spread you apart and put you back together.

The least he could do is kiss you in return, right? 

You nodded, and Mr. Silvair didn’t make a move to kiss you at all.

“Teach kiss,” he said.

Oh. Right.

His lips, cold as they were, carried a surprising softness, almost cushiony. It was strange, almost surreal, feeling such a delicate part of him when so much of your life in his presence had been sharp edges, instruments, and prodding hands. There was no pressure in the kiss, no demand- just a willingness to learn. It was methodical, curious, like an experiment he was determined to get right.

After that moment, his kisses were a frequent part of your life. He sliced you, diced you, and put you back together and kissed you so softly afterwards that whatever remaining pain you felt was an afterthought. 

And you still weren’t happy. His kisses were to keep you in check, to keep you from being a sad little subject. And of course, your body may not be human, but your feelings and heart were. It just reminded you that no matter how much he touched you, or when he learned where to put his hands as the kisses deepened, that he was still unattainable. He still wasn’t yours, but you were his. 

“You okay?” he asks, offering you a hand off of the table. “Mind flawed? Shape flawed?” 

“I’m okay,” you reply with a shake of your head, and grasping his hand. “Mind good.”

Mr. Silvair smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist and interlocking your fingers together. His head ducks down, silver hair falling off of his shoulder and presses his lips to yours. You close your eyes, indulge in the moment, and move your lips against his.

It hurt.

It was like pressing against a bruise you couldn't stop prodding- painful, but addictive in its familiarity. Because no matter how much you wished otherwise, you couldn’t forget that these kisses weren’t rooted in love or desire. They were a kindness, a calculated gesture to keep you "fixed," to stabilise his research subject.

And you couldn’t bear it anymore.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what his closeness did to you- how much it fed the ache of your loneliness while also making it worse. He didn’t understand the depths of your feelings, and he never would. For him, this was just another experiment, another connection to study and emulate. But for you, it was everything.

So you decided, silently and painfully, to stop kissing him.

The next time he leaned in, tilting his head expectantly, you pulled away ever so slightly. “Not now,” you murmured, offering a small, strained smile. He tilted his head, confusion flickering over his face, but didn’t press further.

At first, it seemed like nothing had changed. He continued his work as usual, observing, dissecting, and repairing you with the same meticulous care. But when the moments came- those pauses where he’d normally press his lips to yours- you’d shift away, redirecting the moment with a comment or a question.

And he noticed.

At first, he didn’t say anything, but you saw the way his brows furrowed whenever you turned away, the way his hands hovered near you, uncertain. He started lingering after procedures, watching you with an intensity that made your chest tighten. You could tell he was waiting, expecting.

One day, after yet another procedure, he hesitated longer than usual. His hand brushed against yours, his face mere inches away as he whispered, “Sad again?”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “No. Not sad.”

He frowned. “No kiss,” he said, more a statement than a question. His voice carried a weight you hadn’t heard before. 

You swallowed hard.“I don’t need it,” you said softly, though your heart screamed otherwise. “I’m okay.”

He stepped back slightly, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he’d let it go. But then he spoke, “Kiss… make you happy.”

Your chest ached at the simplicity of his words, the sincerity behind them. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know how much more it hurt to keep pretending, to keep grasping at something that wasn’t real.

“It’s not about that,” you said, your voice trembling. “I’m okay. Really.”

Mr. Silvair didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded slowly, and turned away.

In the days that followed, he grew quieter. His usual precision faltered, his movements distracted. He still cared for you, still treated you with the same careful attention, but the pauses- the moments where he’d once leaned in for a kiss- were now filled with silence.

One evening, after he injected the medicine into your arm, you heard him speak from across the room. “No kiss… you not happy.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned your head to look at him. He sat at his desk, his hands clasped tightly together, his head bowed.

“It’s not that simple,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You blinked them back. Just how much more of this could you take before you break fully, and he couldn’t put you back together anymore? 

He looked up, his bandaged eyes meeting yours as though he could see straight through you. “Me not enough?” 

The words broke something inside you. Because he wasn’t enough- not for what you wanted, not for what you needed. But the truth was, you weren’t enough for him either. You couldn’t make a man who doesn’t understand like you. Any attempt was futile. 

So you stayed silent, letting the weight of your unrequited feelings hang in the air between you.

Days passed, and the silence between you and Mr. Silvair grew heavier, though neither of you addressed it directly. You carried the weight of your feelings alone, trying to convince yourself that distancing was the right choice. Meanwhile, his quiet melancholy lingered, each unspoken word from him carving a deeper ache in your chest.

But then, one evening, everything changed.

You sat on the bed, fiddling absentmindedly with the corner of your raincoat. Mr. Silvair had been working at his desk for hours, his silver hair catching the faint light as he scribbled notes and adjusted instruments. You thought he was too absorbed in his research to notice you, but suddenly, he turned.

“I…” he began, his voice hesitant, and he stood up, walking toward you with slow, deliberate steps.

You glanced up, startled. “What is it?”

He stopped just in front of you. Your legs hung off the bed. “You… stay sad,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “No pain. No hurt. Shape good. Mind good. Why?”

The question hit you harder than you expected. You took a shaky breath and shrugged. “It’s… hard to explain.”

“Explain,” he pressed, his tone more insistent. “Want you happy.”

It was as if someone had dumped ice cold water on top of you. Want you happy. Why? He shouldn’t have cared in the first place if you were happy or not- he should’ve just cared that you were sound of mind, and not trying to kill everything in this place. Your hands shook. Your breathing picked up. Your heart hammered uncomfortably against your rib cage.

Your fists clenched. You scowled. “Why care?” I’m nothing but a subject. “Me… only research.”

Your question caught him by surprise. He frowns, and takes a seat next to you on the bed. Mr. Silvair is silent for a moment, processing, thinking. “Not-...” he stops himself. You gaze at him from the corner of your eye, his fists clenching and unclenching in his lap. “Not only research.”

Great. Friendzoned. 

“You don’t understand,” you say, “You don’t feel like I feel, Mr. Silvair. You can’t understand.” And under your breath, you utter, “Told me that a million times already…” 

“Teach me,” he said simply. 

Your breath caught at his words. They were so simple, so stark in their honesty, yet they cut through all your swirling thoughts. Teach him? How could you possibly teach someone like Mr. Silvair something as complex, as human, as love? Did he even have the capacity for it?

You stared at him, analysing. Was he being… for real? His bandaged eyes stared intently at you as if he could see straight into the messed up web of your emotions. His lips, which had been both your salvation and your torment, were pressed together in a slight, thoughtful frown.

“Teach you…” you repeated, your voice trembling. “How?”

He tilted his head. “Teach ‘kiss,’” he pointed out softly. “Teach this. This feeling.”

You knew better than to believe in it. He didn’t know what it meant to love, not in the way you felt it, not in the way humans could. He was a scientist, a researcher, so lost in his experiments that he’d forgotten what it meant to simply feel without measuring it, calculating it, dissecting it into pieces. He wanted to understand, yes- but could he really? 

“Can’t…” you mumbled. “I don’t think I can. Cannot learn to feel. You don’t feel like me.”

Mr. Silvair’s frown deepened, and he reached out, his cold fingers brushing yours. The touch was hesitant, almost unsure, but it made your heart ache all the same. “Feel... something,” he said, voice low. “When you sad, me… don’t like.”

You stared at him, startled. It wasn’t a declaration of love, not by any means, but it was more emotion than you’d ever heard from him before. More than you thought he could express.

“Why?” you whispered. “Why do you care if I’m sad?”

He hesitated again, his fingers tightening slightly around yours. You half expected an Me interested in you, but… “You… important,” he said haltingly, as though the words themselves were foreign to him. “You hurt, me feel wrong. Dislike. Interested in you… care you.”

Your heart ached. “You’re serious?”

He nodded. “Want you happy. Interested… learn. Want learn.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, hope stirred in your chest. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t the fairy tale romance you’d dreamed of, but it was real.

“Then… let’s figure it out. Together.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Together.”

This time, when he leaned in, you didn’t pull away. The kiss was still awkward, still unsure, but it carried a warmth that hadn’t been there before—a promise, fragile but genuine.

And for the first time, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you’d found a place to call home. Not in a room or a world, but in the arms of someone who wanted to learn how to care for you as much as you cared for him.

[sweetpupii]

oh, she does both and gets so mean with it too </3

thank god cait's uniform has pockets to hide the pink vibrator remote because she's planning on using it during the whole ceremony. yeah, yeah, guard the stage, look out for any suspicious people and whatever… she's far too focused on the way you fidget with the fabric of your uniform as you look around, squirming a little in a way that makes her look down to hold back a small giggle. not wanting to draw attention to herself.

sneaky little shit, got as far away from you as possible to not hear any complaints.

she just wasn't having it today. no amount of whining and puppy dog eyes you give could get her to back down. hopefully that'll teach you to stop getting on her last nerve at the most inopportune times.

keeping her in bed for longer than necessary because 'you were cold’ on a sunny and nowhere near cold morning, the little touches under her nightgown with those coy eyes that hid your true intentions ( or so you thought because she can read you like an open book by now. ), the gentle kisses and bites on her neck that quickly turned heated and ended up with a couple hickeys that were a pain to cover before arriving at the gala. late.

we're you dumb or did you really think she'd be nice enough to wait until you guys got to her bedroom to turn on the vibrator?

either way, you might regret agreeing to her little idea.

more people are starting to arrive but her duty is to be there and intervene only if something bad happens so she can keep having fun while you pat down people to let them in with a forced, polite smile. you shift on your feet, pretending to adjust the holster at your thigh. It’s an innocent enough motion to anyone watching, but caitlyn knows better.

her thumb grazes the remote in her pocket, toggling the setting up one notch higher. a quick glance in your direction tells her all she needs to know: the way your head dips slightly, teeth pressing into your bottom lip as your hand briefly grips the table for balance. you recover quickly, but not before her eyes catch the faint tremble in your legs.

perfect.

when she finally makes her way over to you, the calm authority in her tone betrays none of her mischief. “I’ll be taking her to assist with another entrance.” she tells the nearby guard, who barely spares a glance before nodding in approval.

her hand is warm and steady on your lower back as she leads you away, her grip firm enough to keep you from protesting. not that you could form a coherent argument right now, not with your mind clouded by the relentless buzzing and caitlyn’s touch.

she is not taking you to the other entrance, she's obviously taking you backstage to an empty room.

immediately closing the door, leaning her body weight against it just in case, pulling out the remote from her pocket to turn it up. the buzzing in between your legs now louder and definitely more overwhelming.

“fuck, cait, I'm sorry—” the quiver in your voice, the way you had to lean onto the desk behind you to hold yourself up while your knees trembled and threatened to give up made something flutter in caitlyn's belly, damn.

“sorry?” she repeats, her tone silky but laced with mockery. she holds up the remote in one hand, her thumb hovering over the button as if she was hesitating. “darling, you’re always sorry. but somehow, you never learn.”

she presses the button, and the buzzing between your legs ramps up another level, sharp and insistent. your breath catches, and your knees almost buckle at the sensation. “cait—caitlyn, please,” you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper, clear desperation.

“you had so much to say earlier this morning,” the enforcer pointed out with a soft laugh, taking a step closer. her free hand reaches out to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet her eyes. “is my name all you can manage to say now? how funny.”

your thighs clench together in a futile attempt to dull the vibration, but it only makes it worse. heat blooms in your cheeks, spreading down your neck, as you bite your lip to muffle the whimper threatening to escape. she notices—of course, she does—and leans in, her lips brushing against yours in a rather sloppy kiss.

she wasn't supposed to kiss you, she never does when trying to teach a lesson but she couldn't resist this time... sigh.

“no need to hold back,” she murmurs against your lips, “we’re alone here.”

“i can't...” you manage, your voice breaking. tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming pleasure inside you.

“yes, you can,” she says firmly, one hand brushes along your side, a grounding touch that only makes the intensity more acute. “you always can.”

she watches you intently, taking in every shudder, every gasp, every tremble of your legs as you struggle to stay upright. her chest swells with satisfaction at the sight of you, undone and helpless under her control.

when your legs finally give out, she catches you effortlessly; pulling you close, stroking your back to let you pant against her shoulder, trailing soft kisses down your jaw as she presses the button to turn the vibrator off…only to start it back at the lowest setting.

“don't look at me like that,” caitlyn whispers, a tiny ( cruel. ) smile playing at her lips as she guides you down to the chair. “you already had your fun in the morning, am I not allowed to do the same?”

[scionsthings]

You utilized the exact same words i used with a friend when i was talking about this with them. I'm a very analytical person I don't put two man ( or any other couple actually ) together just because they are sexy and im not delulu, like i can tell when the story mean something or not, of course if I want to ship it i ship it in any case, but I'm mature enough to understand if something is meant or not because i do care about the canon events especially if they are well narrated. I saw this thing they have at the very first time, from act 1 Season 1 to act 3 Season 2 and Jayce's relationship with Mel actually helped me, who watched the series as an aroace person so i don't really know personally how love works lol, to understand what Jayce truly wanted. It was so, so obvious for me in Season 1 and Season 2 just confirmed Jayce's feelings, because the character himself realized them. He loved Mel, but because Mel is a Mirror, she reflects other people desires she...she was the reflection of Viktor. Jayce saw something of Viktor in her. These are not the eyes of someone in love who believes in their partner

And I choose these screenshots not to negate the fact Jayce felt genuine attraction for Mel (as i already said) but because these moments are moments of "tenderness" with your partner. But why are you so..distant? It's because Jayce unconsciously knew that Mel is not Viktor and she'll never could be but he still cares about her. And..well THESE are the eyes of someone in love, who believes in their partner knowing they want to stay by their side, for eternity at this point. Look how Jayce shines, AND in the very first time you can see the emotions in his eyes just talking to a stranger. Viktor gives him hope. Those eyes are so so intense when he's look at him

And the feeling is mutual, but Viktor is more subtle because he was so stucked on the belief he wasn't worth it...And then happened what happened. But even after all of that Jayce is here to remind him he's the most beautiful creature in the world in every sense possible, and he believed in him till the end. I really know what brotherly soulmates mean, it's like as you and another person were born from the same ovum, that strong connection between two twins and this is definitely NOT the case They are partners Science Partners Partners in crime Partners in love, with the difference their love it's expressed differently from simple kisses and carnal passion, they loves in their unique way that's why their relationship is so BEAUTIFUL There was no Kiss, not an "I love you" because those things are so..bland if you compare them to everything else, the touches, Jayce's words as you arleady said OP

And this for me, as for you OP, this makes Jayvik CANON And never won't change my mind because the voice actors believed in it. The animation team believed in it, because they showed us EXACTLY this type of love.

I know I'm most definitely not the first one to talk about this but truly I believe that if queer people identify with a ship/character then that makes them queer.

That being said, Viktor and Jayce are most definitely queer to me. Their love definitely defies the bounds of any normal "romantic" or "platonic" relationship and that in itself is inherently queer. Defying societies expectations of a given role, like, how is that not queer?

It genuinely baffles me that it's claimed they're "brotherly" because there are WAYS to code brotherly dynamics, or really close friends, without romantic undertones at all! That's possible, and those relationships are present in arcane! So why is it that Jayce and Viktor feels so queer? because they fucking are! You have to think, one person who worked on arcane does not define a relationship that has been worked on by a shit ton of other people. Their relationship is queer coded even if unintentional, it is there. and when characters are queer coded, they ARE queer.

Jayces confession was such a beautiful way to show his love for Viktor, they don't have to kiss, or explicitly say "love" for that to be the implication. It's there. half the people who watched that scene thought they were going to kiss. there's a reason for that! I hate pulling out the argument "what if one of them was a woman?" but sometimes you genuinely have to use that argument because SO many people would be on board if Jayce or Viktor was a woman and the other was a man.

Jayce is genuinely so devoted to him and it's so so clear the entire time! Because yeah! He chose to go through that with Viktor! He chose to hold him by the neck and hold hands with him! Because he loves him! That is true love no matter the intent! He loves everything about Viktor and never once did he falter in that love because it was such a big part of him!!!!! Like I cannot imagine watching the Finale and not coming out of it like "Jayvik is canon" because to me it is canon. like. legitimately canon. and I will be referring to it as canon because that's how I see it.

Okay thanks for listening to my thoughts lol I love queer relationships in media

[burrowdarling]

Take It Easy

Summary: With everything that's gone on this season, you decided Joe deserved some much needed time away.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x gf!reader

Warnings: implied smut minors DNI

Note: Hi! I was finally able to get around to the request from this anon. I hope you enjoy it! Some good ole bye-week comfort with some steam.

Word Count: 2k

Check out my Masterlist here!

It had taken quite a fair bit of convincing, but you were all packed up heading a few hours away to a cabin with a couple other guys from the team and their significant others. Joe was beside you in the driver's seat, making you passenger with Sam and Jess passed out in the back. Evan and Gracie were in another car about 15 minutes ahead. Your trunk was filled with all of the supplies you could possibly need for the weekend with a few more hours on the road ahead of you. 

After how you’d seen Joe beat himself up this past week, you knew you had to do something to take his mind off of things. A trip like this has been something you’d wanted to do for a bit, but the bye week felt like the right time to get everyone rest for the remainder of the season. Joe was reluctant at first, still heading to the facility at the start of the bye week, head strong and adamant that he needed to be doing everything he could to get the team in shape. You’d had to talk him through things, getting him to understand that his body needed a break and having a few of the guys could help him to talk to other people who would get it. He’d only agreed to a few days, but you still took that as a win in your book. 

You knew he was trying so hard, carrying so much weight of the team on his shoulders. It was a burden he could only hold alone for so long before it did him in. Joe didn’t relax much during any typical season, but this felt like a special exception to his strict routine. You were trying to drill into him that rest was just as productive and all of the other components he prides himself on.

Joe was lightly drumming along to the beat of the song softly playing from the speakers, your music left on shuffle from earlier in the drive. You were excited to get away with everyone, knowing the guys needed a break during the bye week and what better way to spend it than up in mountains unplugged for a few days. His right hand found its way to your thigh, light stroking you out of your thoughts. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Joe asked, glancing in your direction. He looked so soft like this, wearing a hoodie and sweats with his hair down. His expression was calm, any signs of stress that had been showing on his face weren’t currently evident. You hadn't gotten to see him like this much recently, taking him in while you had the chance. 

“I was just thinking about how nice this trip is going to be. I’m really glad you agreed to go, I wanted to be able to do something nice for you and figured this was a perfect time to go”.

Joe sighed, humming constantly as his hand gently squeezed your thigh three times. It was a signal you both can come up with during your early days of dating, a nonverbal way to say ‘I love you’ and a simple reminder you were there for that person. The gesture brought a small smile to your face.

“I’m glad we invited some of the guys, but I can’t wait until I can get you alone” Joe spoke, keeping his voice low in case anyone had woken up. His voice held a rasp and desire that would cause you to fold right there in any other circumstance.

You felt Joe's hand begin to climb your thigh, sliding closure to the apex of your thighs. You placed your hand on top of his, applying a bit of pressure to halt his movements.  

“Slow your roll cowboy, we're not even there yet” you spoke chuckling.

“Cowboy? I’d gladly save a horse and let you ride me any day” Joe said with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. He looked over at you, tipping his nonexistent hat to really seal the deal. You couldn’t help, but laugh at his antics. Joe

You lightly patted him on the shoulder, rolling your eyes in his direction with a smile on your face “yeah, yeah focus on the road so we get there in one piece”. 

“Yes ma’am” he said with a short nod, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

By the time you had arrived, it had gotten late and you all were ready to get everything in and turn in for the night. You tried to do everything as efficiently as possible, creating a system of the guys bringing everything while you and the girls got it all sorted out inside. Once the last thing was brought in, the guys began to explore the place you had booked. You tried to keep as much of it as a surprise for Joe as you could, keeping the details limited.

The cabin itself was nice, a cozy feel hitting you immediately. There were plenty of bedrooms for everyone, a pool table in the living room, finished with a fireplace. There would be plenty of room in the kitchen to cook for the weekend, opting to stay in as much as possible to really unwind. Downstairs there was a small room that led out to a patio hosting a hot tub, the main thing that had really sold you on this place specifically. You could tell by the vibe it was going to be a nice few days getaway with each other even if you weren’t completely alone. 

You and the girls got to cooking, the guys finding enjoyment out of the pool table. You could feel yourself getting lost in your thoughts again as your eyes fell on Joe, leaning against the table laughing and joking around with his friends. When it was his turn to play, he bent over and steadied the pool stick expertly between his fingers. Joe’s hands were always something that you had found attractive and this instance was no exception. You knew exactly what those hands were capable of, causing a shiver of desire to run down your spine. The look of focus on his face completed the narrative you were writing in your mind, making your thoughts not so innocent. 

You were snapped out of it by a bump to the hip by Gracie, coming back into the moment and food you were preparing in front of you. A knowing look had crossed her face followed by a wink as she went back to what she was doing.

“It’s good to see him with a smile on his face again” Jess said, you nodded in agreement. Joe’s happiness was contagious, leaving you to finish your cooking with a wide smile on your face.

Everyone finished up dinner, deciding to head to bed and be ready for the day ahead. 

“I really wanna go enjoy that hot tub before bed, we had such a long drive and it’d be nice to unwind just the two of us” 

“I’d like that, I also brought that one suit you really like” you said with a mischievous grin plastered across your face and you made your way down the hall to your room.

“The red one?” Joe called after you, sounding eager.

“You’ll just have to wait and see Burrow” you said, tossing his suit out and closing the door behind you.

By the time you made your way down to the hot tub, Joe was already there getting everything set. You stepped out onto the patio, the sounds of the door closing alerting Joe to your presence. Joe let out a low whistle at the sight of you, letting his eyes rake up and down your barely covered body.

“You’re absolutely breathtaking sweetheart” Joe said, extending his hand to help you get into the hot tub. 

“Thank you babe, you know I had to bring your favorite” you told him, stepping into the hot tub and letting out a moan at the sensation of hot water and got comfortable.

Joe got in after, settling on the opposite side of the tub and letting his shoulders drop at the feeling of hot water relaxing the tension in his muscles. He let his eyes close, fully submitting himself to relaxation, a groan escaping his lips. The sounds he was making had you clenching your thighs together, still feeling worked up from earlier. You loved seeing Joe when he got worked up, but you also loved these moments when he was able to be unguarded with you. 

“C’mere, I feel like you’re so far away from me” Joe said, lifting his arms out of the water to gesture you over.

You swam over next to him, gently pushing his shoulders to turn him to the side and settled your hands onto his shoulders. You began massaging his muscles, leaving tender kisses across the top of his back, hearing the soft sigh escape his lips.

“I know I don’t tell you enough, but I appreciate all that you do for me. You're my biggest supporter in my corner and I want you to know how loved you are. I know I don’t always show it ” Joe said quietly.

“Of course Joey, loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done. Watching you get to do what you love for a living every week is one of my favorite things. You go out on that field and put your entire soul into it. I know you’re doing everything you can Joey and I know everything will work out eventually” you said, hoping he would take on some of the confidence in your words.

Joe wordlessly spun you around to face him, lifting you onto his lap. His hands fell to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze while your arms settled around his neck, your lips connecting in a passionate kiss. 

“I really don’t know what I'd do without you sweetheart. You’re my rock, my safe place, there’s no one else I’d rather come home to every night” Joe said, his lips finding your neck trailing kisses down to your collarbone. 

“I’m right there with you, Joey, you have no idea” your words trailing off as he continued his assault with his mouth, biting and sucking your throat to the possibility of leaving marks.

He used the leverage to ground you into his lap, feeling his growing erection beneath you. A gasp caught in your throat, Joe taking the opportunity to let his tongue find its way into your mouth, fighting for dominance.

“That feel good, baby? I want you to feel just what you do to me "Joe groaned out, eliciting a whimper from you.

This was the sweet friction you’d been craving from him all night, letting your head fall back as pleasure overtook you. This only spurred Joe on more, watching how he was able to make you feel as good as you were. Seeing you fall deeper into your desire only made Joe grind harder against your clothed center. It was getting harder and harder for him to control himself, his patience thinning. You brought your head back up, leaning in letting your lips ghosting over his ear as you spoke.

“I’ve been craving you all night Joey, i want you so badly” you lightly whined, nipping at his lobe.

Joe reacted as quick as he could, scooping you into his arms as he carried you out of the hot tub and into the house. You broke out into a fit of giggles at his movements, careful to keep your volume down for your housemates. The remainder of your night would be spent relaxing in a different way.

[tvwebs]

Excuse me? Oh no

Part 1 - curiosity

platonic!yandere!batfam x reader

Warnings: this was made with MALE reader in mind but please interpretate the gender however you like, the reader here is minor coded but no confirmed age, invasion of privacy, out of character depictions, this is a joke fic but taken seriously, mentions of kidnapping, no beta we die like jason

Dividers by aquazero

(this is a series) part one (your here) , part 2 , part 3, part 4

PLOT: you were given a phone, but your "family" can't help but feel nosy about your own privacy

You hate it here. There was no doubt to that, you have been held hostage by the Wayne's for a couple of months now and it was terrifying AND somewhat annoying. You don't these guys, you haven't met them until like when you were kidnapped, it was horrible.

They promised you can have boundaries, they broke those, privacy, you don't know they don't actually allow that, you felt like they were trying to be as considerate to you as possible for you to stay and you can't help but be in sort of awe, they are your kidnappers and despite their possessive and terrifying tendencies you felt like they geniuely cared for you (you didn't even wanna be here), so to cope with this situation you do what other people do- staying on social media.

Bruce gave you a new phone a few weeks ago and you have been obsessively using it so you could feel you have security again, not ideal nor healthy but hey, what else is there? You found a way to log in into your old Tumblr and/or Wattpad account, obviously you were trying to hide th fact from the bat family, you would be lectured for hours! So you tried to keep it in a down low, removing every search, hiding apps, deleting shit is saddening but it's for your safety and security.

Damian. He was the first to notice you spending much more time on your phone recently and as the little as he is, he tries peeking behind on what your doing but can't see clearly but he sees words? No texting- what is it your reading? "What is that?" He asked with a raised eyebrow and weirdly stern tone of voice, you flinched and quickly existed the app "o-oh! nothing." You are horrible at lying when it comes to Damian, he makes you feel.. uneasy.

Damian wasn't convinced as expected and he tries to grab the cellular device in your hand and with your idiotic instincts you slapped his hand away, he gasps and he turns irritated. That wasn't your best move. "How could you? All I want is to make sure you're safe and this is how you react?!" He huffs and now you're scared, like they are always so unpredictable when they are mad.

"i-im sorry." You apologized, you wish that Damian doesn't convince Bruce to put you back in the white room. It was torture, Damian scoffs and walks away, you were left shaking, what happened just now..? You just went back reading a stupid FNAF fic to calm your nerves (you are such a weirdo)

It was dinner time, you were eating in the so called "room" you were in everyday, Bruce said you weren't ready to eat at the dinner table, whatever that means. Alfred bought you your food, you thank him and he left, is the grandpa okay?

As you eat you listen in the conversation in the dinner table, "When will we ever have them eat over here?" Seemingly to be Dicks voice, he was the one that seemed to be the most clingy to you. "When they are ready." Bruce said to him in a stoic tone. You continue to listen in..

"Father, there's something I feel that needs your attention." Damian announces, oh no what is he going to do? Bruce perks his attention to Damian with the 'hm?' sound. "I feel that Y/N is hiding something from us. Just today they slapped my hand away when I asked." He said recalling the event from earlier.

Tim who was also here (don't forget him) looks confused "like what?" He asked, Damian always seemed so dramatic about you to Tim, Damian gave an annoying sigh "Their phone! They might be hiding something in their phone!" He shouted, "they shouldn't be keeping secrets from us, were family!" He continued to argue

Oh god.

"Damian calm down, I will handle this little situation later, if they are hiding something they aren't supposed to they are going back to the white room." Bruce exclaimed and/or added.

"Doesn't that seem a bit extreme Bruce?" Jason teased with a smirk in response with Bruce's statement, Jason may present himself as the most normal and gives you a lot of freedom but he is just as controlling and possessive as the others.

"of course not, it's for their own good." Jesus Christ he is so ominous and cryptic. This is the same guy that is seen as a good billionaire?, the family continue to eat and banter

While they were eating, you were stuck in a position, when Bruce mentioned the "white room" you don't wanna go back, you don't wanna go back. That place was awful. Your privacy is not valued.

They don't care about you, they just think they do. what can you even do?

[superbsupper]

Babysitters Club— Sukuna never thought he could use baby sitting as a way of picking up girls, but that was proved possible when he met you.

Modern AU! Sukuna x reader || Genre: Fluff || Warnings: none || WC: 872

Yuuji, Sukunas nephew, was in need of a babysitter. Sukuna, after being bribed, took his brothers bratty kid so he could go on a date.

Sukuna had to take care of Yuuji for the next couple of hours. Which led him to putting Yuuji on the couch, turning a show on, and then watching his phone. The TV keeps Yuuji distracted— for about 30 minutes.

“Why are you crying? You’re just sitting there.” Frustration was what was coming from Sukuna, his brows furrowed as he tried to figure out how to get Yuuji to stop crying. “Hey! Cmon— oh Jesus.. what? Are you hungry or something? Need like… your diaper changed?”

He tried everything. Food? Yuuji smacked it away. Changing? Yuuji kicked around. A nap? Yuuji wouldn’t even lay down. Not until Sukuna groaned and looked up some stuff on google did he realize that ‘well maybe he wants to play’.

Yuuji walked clumsily in his big winter clothes with Sukuna, holding his hand with a grumpy expression as they walked through the snow. Sukuna sighs loudly again for the umpteenth time, before he lets Yuuji run off to the snow covered playground.

A while of Yuuji playing in the cold and sukuna grumbling to himself, they both head to the store to pick up something to eat. Although Sukuna knew Yuuji wouldn’t be able to have anything other than the food brought by his brother, he still wanted something for himself.

“Want something spicy, brat?” Sukuna asked gruffly, more talking to himself than the so called brat in his arms, the one who was slapping his face gently and babbling. A little giggle is heard from beside Sukuna, his brows furrowing as he looks to the side.

You.

You were standing there giggling, your face warming when Sukuna perks at your giggle, making you look away quickly and shut up from his narrowed gaze.

He stares long and hard before raising a brow. He huffs and goes back to shopping, putting Yuuji down so he could look at some cans of soup. Cream of chicken? Gross. Chicken noodle? Also gross. Tomato soup..? Better, but boring.

Sukuna turns to where he assumed Yuuji was— only to be met with a little winter jacket on the ground. His heart drops to his ass and he freezes for a second. He starts to panic silently, looking around for a moment before realizing—

He lost Yuuji.

He grabs the jacket and looks around with urgency, his heart beating so hard it felt like it would burst. His panic gets worse when he hears crying. Was that Yuuji? Is he hurt? Should he be relived that Yuuji’s still in the store???

When he comes around the corner, little jacket in hand, chest heaving with worry he’s met with the sound of a soft voice. “Shhh… it’s okay… uhm.. where’s your daddy..?”

You.

You were holding Yuuji, worriedly trying to calm him down, hushing quietly while Yuuji squirmed in your arms with little hiccups and sniffles coming from his shivering body. “Shhhh.. it’s okay..”

Sukuna had never felt more relief in his life. Though his heart was still racing it would start to calm down. He started to walk towards you, Yuuji sniffling and hitting you, making you turn to Sukuna.

“Little shit…” Your brows knit up and you tilt your head, a little smile on your face when handing back Yuuji with a little smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” His voice is gruff and annoyed, putting the jacket back on Yuuji and holding him in his arms, to guarantee that Yuuji wouldn’t venture off.

“Uhm..” the look on your face was cute. Your face was a bit red.. and now that Sukuna had a good look at you he realized how soft you looked. “Your son’s cute..”

It takes a long moment of staring before there’s a small scoff and Sukuna looks away, grumbling something. “He ain’t my kid…” He realizes how it might sound, looking over and sighing loudly. “He’s my nephew.”

A little ‘ooohhh…’ comes from you, a smile on your sweet face while you looked at Yuuji. “Well.. he’s adorable.. really...”

For the first time in a long time sukuna felt something weird. His stomach felt tangled and his heart was beating a bit harder than usual. “Thanks for finding the brat, my brother would have killed me if I lost him.”

The way you give a polite little nod and smile makes his heart beat a bit harder, his gruff demeanor a bit relaxed before he clears his throat. “…His name’s Yuuji.”

The information makes you give a hum, nodding as you smile. “Well.. hi there Yuuji…” You introduce yourself, glancing up to the man holding Yuuji as if introducing yourself to him as well. “Does your uncle have a name, little guy..?”

“Sukuna.” He answers you, looking down at your soft form and turning Yuuji a bit closer to you. “…Nice to meet you.”

You end up making conversation, exchange numbers, sadly eventually parting ways once you both collect your groceries. On Sukunas walk home he looks down to Yuuji. If it wasn’t for him running off, Sukuna wouldn’t have talked you. Hell— he probably wouldn’t have even noticed you.

“…Good job, brat.”

(AN: This feels so weird. I’ve never shared my writing so I’m sorry if it’s really amateur. I’m open to any criticisms just please don’t like.. destroy me 😭.)

[lizhly-writes]

for some reason, i felt like writing this. we are now talking about shang qinghua's master, the prior an ding peak lord.

It was commonly said that his master's engagement was extremely well-arranged. Indeed, the interactions between An Ding and Bai Zhan were the most harmonious out of any pair of peaks in the current generation.

As to why, their disciples had come up with a set of reasons. This set of reasons revolved around the idea that obviously this pair of honorable and dignified shixiong and shidi were fucking.

Did they treat each other as good friends? Brothers? Why consider those options at all when you could go for the much more dramatic route of star-crossed love, a beautifully-married couple who were forced to live apart (you know, on separate mountains) for the sake of duty? How romantic!

There were various stories going around just An Ding alone. They got even more absurd once they reached Bai Zhan. Shang Qinghua had been making a collection of them just so he could marvel at the creativity of it.

After all, Shizun and Shishu didn't seem to do much in public. They got along well, and favored each other, but certainly there was no candlelit dinner alone or courtship gifts being thrown around. Stumbling into a wife plot wasn't entirely out of the question -- Shang Qinghua really shouldn't have come up with this number of aphrodisiac plants, holy fuck -- but surely Shizun hadn't actually made a declaration of love to the Bai Zhan Peak Lord against the setting sun, flower petals blowing softly around his face as two crystalline tears dripped from his... stunning sea-blue orbs.

Shang Qinghua frankly had a hard time imagining Shizun could ever be so sentimental. If you didn't actually know him, he supposed it made a reasonable and pretty enough picture. Shizun, like all Peak Lords, was an incomparably beautiful and ageless cultivator. But somehow, even with perfect skin and a distinct lack of eyebags... he really gave off the aura of an ordinary old manager working 996.

Did Shizun fuck? Maybe! Logically, he must have! Possibly during his disciplehood! Again, Shizun was a beautiful and ageless cultivator, he must have had admirers! But in his heart, Shang Qinghua felt the answer was no. For some reason, the idea of it was weirdly discomfiting.

This was why he was incredibly surprised when, upon arriving back at Shizun's Leisure House with a tray of tea and tea snacks, he found the Bai Zhan Peak Lord there.

They weren't doing anything illicit. Shishu was standing next to Shizun at his desk. If the distance between them was a bit close -- if the Shishu's head was bent a little lower than necessary --

"Shizun," Shang Qinghua said, somehow feeling as if he had seen something he shouldn't have.

Shishu took a step back. Shang Qinghua also took a step back. Shizun did not take a step back, as he was still seated at his desk and scribbling something down.

"Qinghua is back," Shizun said, eventually looking up. He turned to Shishu. "Did you wish to stay for tea?"

"Unnecessary," Shishu said, and promptly said his goodbyes. If these goodbyes were a little fast --

Ah, well, whatever. "Did Shishu come to talk about something important?" Shang Qinghua said.

Shizun tilted his head at Shang Qinghua. He looked the same as he always did, which was, of course, very tired and very annoyed. Truly, Shizun had an unfortunate resting face. Shang Qinghua had learned to get vibes off of it, though, and the vibe he was getting today was -- okay, still tired, but also distinctly amused.

"Qinghua can see for himself," Shizun said, and tapped the paper he was writing on.

It was, as it turned out, an incredibly lurid story about Shizun and Shishu.

"Shizun???"

"The rumors going around are certainly interesting," Shizun said. He was still writing. On closer inspection, he was busily annotating it in red ink. Notes like "this didn't happen" and "combination of 5c and 18a from year of XX" and "is this based off our incident as disciples?"

What incident as disciples???

"Does Qinghua have any thoughts?"

"Shizun?????"

"On the rumors," Shizun clarified, as if that was the problem.

"I have a collection of over fifty stories," Shang Qinghua didn't say.

"This disciple wouldn't dare comment!" Shang Qinghua said.

"That is notably not the same as not having thoughts," Shizun said, and set his brush down, folding his hands neatly on his desk. "Does Qinghua believe the rumors are true?"

This was not a question Shang Qinghua felt like answering!

"Shizun has brown eyes!" Shang Qinghua blurted out.

"...Yes," Shizun said, eyebrows furrowing at this true non-answer.

Shang Qinghua tapped the line about Shizun weeping prettily with sea-blue orbs (who wrote this???). Shizun looked enlightened. "I see. And that is... the only part of this you believe isn't true?"

"Shizun is very close to Shishu," Shang Qinghua hedged. "This disciple wouldn't dare speculate!"

"Qinghua."

Shang Qinghua threw up his hands. "I don't know! What do you want to hear from me? Why are you asking me about your sex life? Are you fucking Shishu?"

There was a long pause. Shang Qinghua vaguely wondered if he was in trouble. Shizun liked him, but holy shit, not that much.

"Audacious," Shizun said, which, okay. Yeah. But! But!!! Sure, it wasn't a great thing to say, but ask shitty questions, get a shitty answer!

"That's not a no," Shang Qinghua said.

It was at this point that Shizun revealed an incredibly wry and incredibly rare smile. "This master," he said, "believes that Qinghua can figure out this matter for himself."

"What the fuck does that mean???" Shang Qinghua cried.

Shizun did not answer this. Instead, he saddled Shang Qinghua with another pile of paperwork.

[lloydskywalkers]

drywall

went to go work on raising hell and ended up missing Skylor, so!! I will always have so many emotions about s8/9 and the aftermath of it, here's another gallon of them.

Two months after they’ve taken back the city and the street lights are finally starting to work again, Lloyd shows up at the restaurant an hour past closing time, sporting a spectacularly bruise and enough blood across his gi to make the Ninjago City Blood Drive team’s day. 

“Hi, Sky.” Lloyd waltzes — or attempts to, it’s more of a stumbling collapse — right in as if nothing’s amiss in the slightest. “Sorry, I’m, uh. Was in the neighborhood and I wasn’ sure…where else t’ go.”

Skylor, still frozen over a stained tabletop with her dishtowel in hand, stares at him. 

All things considered, she should be fully prepared for something like this. It should practically be in her restaurant’s training manual, that at some point you’ll end up confronted with a bloody, half-dead ninja in your door. But given how slow the past few weeks have been, coupled with the sheer exhaustion of dealing with the lunch rush and the dinner rush and the late-night somewhat-inebriated people rush, her guard is apparently down enough to leave her reacting with a simple, useless, “Oh god.”

“Tha’s my grandfather,” Lloyd says. There’s blood at the corner of his mouth — coupled with the bruising, Skylor thinks (hopes) it’s simply from split skin or a bitten cheek, instead of crippling internal bleeding. 

Crippling internal bleeding is enough of a concern to finally spur her into action, dropping her towel and rushing over to help Lloyd finish stumbling through the door. She spares a moment of thanks, that there’s even a door at all — repairs in the city have been slow, since Harumi’s brief reign of terror, and the insurance provider is still holding out on her. 

But the door was a good thing to prioritize, she thinks, bolting it firmly behind them. 

“Sorry, again,” Lloyd murmurs. His jaw is working in the tight way it does when he’s biting back pain, his bottom lip bruised and bleeding. Skylor’s stomach twists. 

You’d think, after all she’s been through, she’d be more accustomed to seeing the people she cares about in pain. That she’d be desensitized enough, to fight back the aching nausea and the gnawing desire to look away. 

Or maybe she’s just a coward. That would track, she thinks. 

“Shush,” she says instead, maneuvering Lloyd further into one of the nicer booths, careful of the blood that’s…everywhere. “What did you do to yourself this time, huh?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Lloyd grumbles, his voice steadier now that he’s sitting down. Unfortunately, he’s only paler under the yellowy restaurant lights, and the blood looks about ten times worse. “I just…slipped. A bit.”

Slipped. Skylor could smack him, if he wasn’t already hurt. 

“Lemme see, then.” She bends down to where she can tug the folds of his gi back, trying to trace the blood to a source. She finally finds it — an ugly wound in his left shoulder, several long gashes across his forearm. A knife, maybe. Possibly a sword, but it looks close-up and quick. It’d need to have been quick, for whoever was wielding it to land this many hits. 

Or Lloyd would have to be sloppy. 

Lloyd gives a stifled, shuddery exhale, a dangerous preamble to tears. Skylor pauses, just for a moment, and deliberates. 

She’s got Nya’s number, carefully keyed into her phone ever since she and Kai started visiting the noodle house. There’s no doubt in her mind that she’d want to know about this — and there’s less doubt that Kai would want to know. if anything, she’s surprised he hasn’t burst through the restaurant doors already, summoned by whatever sixth sense he has that goes off when Lloyd’s in danger. 

But Skylor also knows there’s got to be a reason that Lloyd came here, despite his claims. Just as there’s probably a reason he didn’t call Kai or Nya, or any of the others. 

And perhaps she feels just a little proud, that Lloyd’s chosen her to come to. 

It’s quickly lost in the blood that coats her hands as she begins patching the wound in his shoulder, but the feeling’s there nonetheless. 

It’s a nice feeling, being relied on. Being trusted. 

“Who got you this bad?”

She speaks up mostly to break the quiet. Lloyd isn’t quite like Kai, who likes talking simply to fill a space, but she knows he isn’t fond of silence, either. It’s one of the things they share in common. 

“No one.” Lloyd sucks in a breath as she draws the bandage tight across his shoulder, wrapping it beneath his arm and back over. His eyes close briefly as she ties it off, forehead scrunching up, before he lets out another shuddery exhale. “Some guy, uh — guy on the way home, near the subway. I had answered a call earlier, and I guess — ow, hey—” 

“Sorry,” Skylor winces, as she finishes dumping antiseptic across the slashes on his arm. “It hurts less if you aren’t expecting it.”

“That’s a lie,” Lloyd says, pointedly. 

She shrugs. “So, random subway mugger?”

Lloyd looks away, his cheeks darkening. It’s a relief, to see any color in his face at all. “Sort of.”

He leaves it at that, lapsing back into silence. Skylor looks down, focusing on the butterfly stitches she’s placing across his arm. Were it anyone else, she’d have panicked for actual stitches, but Lloyd heals with an uncanny quickness. She remembers Nya complaining about it, back during the Resistance — how Lloyd threw a fit when his skin healed over the stitches, and they’d had to cut him open all over again. 

She’d probably throw a fit of her own, to be fair. 

“Well, if you see him,” she says, reaching for the roll of bandages. “Point him out. I could use a punching bag.”

Lloyd’s lips quirk, a ghost of a smile. 

“Thank you.”

It’s quiet enough she might’ve missed it, if they were any further apart. Skylor doesn’t miss the meaning, either. She simply shakes her head, wrapping another layer around his arm. 

“I’m just glad you came to someone,” she says. “Instead of half-assing it yourself.”

Lloyd’s fingers twitch. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Uh-huh.”

She can’t pretend she doesn’t understand. Her childhood is filled with fun little memories of patching herself together, hiding wounds from Clouse or her father in an attempt to convince them she was better than she was.

Not that the people Lloyd is hiding from are anything remotely like her father, of course, but there’s an overlap between people you fear and people you love, and trying to convince them you’re stronger than you are. 

“That should do it,” she nods to herself, surveying her work. She feels unusually proud of herself — Skylor’s never really stayed with a team long enough to have many chances to patch people up. It’s rarer that people are so open to her touching them, once they’ve learned what her power is. The ninja are an exceedingly kind exception, but it still makes her feel warm, being given this kind of trust. 

She glances up, eyeing her patient. Lloyd’s still pale, but it’s far better than the ashy color from earlier anymore. “Anywhere else?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at the strip of bandages across his arms, shoulders hunched over on himself.

“I have Nya on speed dial, you know—”

“Its just a few scrapes,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing.”

Skylor sighs. “Lemme see.”

Lloyd grumbles, but he lets her grab his arm again, wincing as she dabs antiseptic over the smaller cuts. There’s nothing serious — just a few nicks and scratches, the kind you get from eating the ground mid-fight. He’s got one uglier scrape, but it’s about as nasty as a skinned knee, and easily eclipsed by the scar it bleeds through. 

Her fingers falter. She knows this scar — she was there when Kai struggled to patch the wound it once was, back on her father’s island. It’s an ugly, jagged scar, a testament to how Kai’s hands had shook as he’d tried to be gentle. 

In hindsight, it had been a terrible moment. Kai wasn’t sure if Lloyd had picked up the wound from the underground tunnels, Chen’s cultists, or his own brief slip into the madness of the staff. Lloyd wouldn’t say where it was from, even if either of them had been much for talking. And Skylor had been an awkward, purple-scaled fixture next to them, holding the medical kit while the others planned how to kill her father. 

And yet, it was the lightest she’d ever felt. 

Skylor bites her lip. 

She’s never told Lloyd, what exactly he’d meant to her. He likely has no idea, what he’d represented when she’d first met him. 

The son of one of Ninjago’s greatest villains — and people loved him. 

Kai loved him. 

If Lloyd could overcome the hurdle of his parentage and choose to live the way he wanted, if people could look past the dark stain of his legacy and love him anyways, then maybe—

He’d been hope, when she needed it most. And Kai had lived up to that hope, taking Skylor’s half-formed, frail dream and fueling it into a blaze.

Her eyes close, briefly, and she shivers. 

“Are you okay?”

Blinking her eyes back open, she comes face to face with Lloyd’s concerned expression. She shakes her head, looking away. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Embarrassment pulls at her. “Just a bit of…aftershocks. You know.”

Lloyd frowns, clearly not knowing. “Aftershocks,” he repeats. “From…”

His eyes go wide, only for his expression to immediately crumple. “Oh.”

Skylor waves her hands. “It’s not bad,” she reassures him. “I can barely feel him — his power — anymore. Just pins and needles in my hands sometimes, that’s all. Totally…totally normal.”

She hopes. Garmadon’s power had burned, in the way bitter cold feels against your skin, so a bit of numbness is pretty decent tradeoff, if she says so herself. 

Lloyd looks down, expression shadowed and hidden. Skylor could curse herself — she knows better, than to bring up—

“Here.” Lloyd’s suddenly holding his hand out, looking at her earnestly. It’s an almost childish expression of sincerity, one that makes him look much younger — a little more like the Lloyd she met on her father’s island, who beamed when his father ruffled his hair. 

Her chest aches fiercely, and Skylor holds out her hand before she can hesitate. Lloyd takes it carefully in his own, and she watches in fascination as the low shimmer of green engulfs her fingers. Lloyd’s power is as gentle as he is — nothing like the ravaging purple storm that was his father’s. 

“Oh,” she says. “That’s nice.”

Lloyd makes a humming noise. “I’ve been practicing. H-his power doesn’t get along with mine, that much. So it kinda…makes room. For whoever’s stronger, at the moment.”

Skylor fights back a shudder. Realistically, she knows she shouldn’t feel ashamed, that Garmadon overpowered her — he’s Garmadon. The reminder of how his power felt still stings, though. 

It’s a reassurance, that Lloyd’s power is stronger now. His element, if you can even call it that, is probably the one she’s the least familiar with — she’s never tried to copy Lloyd’s power. She isn’t entirely sure if she could, or if she should. Dipping into Garmadon’s power was dangerous enough. Skylor isn’t stupid enough to pretend she has the willpower to meddle with the power of the FSM’s family much more than that. 

“It feels like cheating, kinda,” she finally says. “That fighting fuels his power. How are you supposed to fight back?”

Lloyd shrugs, letting her hand go. “You don’t. You get really good at dodging.”

Skylor leans forward, propping her chin up in her palms. “That’s stupid.”

“Well,” Lloyd’s lips twitch, just the slightest bit. “That’s Garmadon, so.”

His expression immediately fractures, and Skylor can spot the battle in his eyes as he tries to grasp for composure. Her teeth worry at her lip.

She should really call Nya, now. Or try to track down Kai’s number. Or anyone else — it’s nearly two hours past closing, the kitchen’s still a mess, and Lloyd’s blood is all over her dishrags. Lloyd himself is hardly in better shape, the ghostly pale of his skin reminding her horribly of when she first saved them from the Sons of Garmadon, and Skylor is—

Not enough. 

She ought to know that, by now.

But the fact still stands, that Lloyd came to her. A part of her clings to that, and another selfish, awful part of her, the part that festered on her father’s island for so many years, the part that still flinches beneath the weight of her last name — well. 

Misery loves company, is probably the best way to put it. 

“I should…I should probably get going,” Lloyd says, uncertainly. He doesn’t make any move to get up, though, still small and weary where he’s hunched up in her booth. 

Skylor stares at him, and thinks of sitting for hours on the edge of her father’s island, staring at the sun on the water until her eyes ached. 

“Hey,” she says, a bit breathless, twisting her fingers together. “Wanna go skip rocks?”

Quite fairly, Lloyd stares at her like she’s lost her mind. 

They end up on the rickety end of one of Ninjago City’s abandoned docks anyways, a mismatched selection of somewhat flat rocks spilling out of a Chen’s to-go bag. Lloyd’s left arm is tied up in a mangled sort of sling they fashioned from Skylor’s old sweatshirt, leaving him to turn a rock over in his right hand awkwardly. 

“So, funny thing,” he says. “I don’t, uh. I’m not very good at this.”

“That’s okay,” Skylor says, sifting through the rocks they’ve gathered. “I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Lloyd sounds hopeful. “I mean, you at least know the trick to it, right?”

“I don’t,” she shrugs. “I’ve never…I’ve never skipped rocks before.”

Lloyd stares at her. 

“It’s not that weird,” she huffs, fighting back the urge to hide. “I mean, I never really had the chance, but I aways thought — I grew up near the ocean, and all these lakes, so I always thought it’d be fun to, y’know, skip rocks, since I didn’t really have…anyone else, to…”

The rest of the sentence is about to turn even more humiliating, so it’s a relief when Lloyd interrupts her. 

“I haven’t either.” 

He immediately flushes. “That’s why I’m not good at it.’Cause I’ve never actually skipped rocks.” 

“Oh.” Skylor looks at their bag, then back up at him. “Well, cool. We’ll both suck, then.”

“How hard can it be, anyways?” Lloyd says, sorting through their rocks. “You just find a flat one, right?”

“Yeah,” Skylor says. “Then you sort of just, frisbee it. I think.”

“Hm.”

“You haven’t thrown a frisbee either, have you.”

“Oh, like you have.”

Skylor presses her lips together, snorting. “Was wondering when your snark was gonna show back up.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Do you not remember half the stuff that came out of your mouth, back at the tournament?”

“You would’ve been out of your mind too, if you had to herd the guys around then — also, bold words coming from you, ooh, how dare you call me a traitor, even though it’s totally dead-on—”

“That wasn’t even close to what I said, and also—” Skylor snatches a smooth rock before Lloyd can, hefting it up. “It’s not like I was gonna admit to you all I was a traitor. That defeats the whole purpose of betraying. Lying my way out of a corner was the smart choice.”

“You’d be surprised,” Lloyd mutters, as Skylor flings her rock across the water.

They both watch as it splashes sadly, sinking instantly like, well. A rock. 

“Okay,” Skylor cringes. “That was a warm-up.”

Several warm-ups later, neither of them have made any progress whatsoever, save to torment whatever fish are hanging out on this side of Ninjago City’s harbor with relentless rock barrages. 

“This is ridiculous,” Lloyd huffs, watching as his rock all but torpedoes into the water. “What’s wrong with us, that we can’t get one stupid rock to skip?”

“Maybe it’s in the wrist?” Skylor flexes her hand, angling it one way then another. She winds ups, throws the rock out, and — nope. 

“I think we’re getting worse,” Lloyd remarks as Skylor sputters, wiping the seawater that splashed up from her face. 

She can’t help but agree. They’re down to a few rocks left, and neither of them have made any progress, much less skipped a single rock. At some point, they give up altogether, seeing who can throw their rock out the furthest instead. 

“This one’s going…” Lloyd raises his arm, closing one eye and squinting as he angles higher. He finally pauses with his hand pointing upwards toward Ninjago City. “Right through that weird oval thing on Borg Tower.” 

“Don’t hit it too hard,” Skylor says. “They just got it back up last week.”

“I’m not hitting it, it’s going through it, weren’t you listening?”

“To you? Nah. I’ve heard you suck at public speaking.”

“Wow, after you forced me into the live broadcast and everything—”

As if to emphasize his distress, Lloyd takes a running start, hurling the rock forward. They watch as it arcs across the skyline, before plummeting somewhere in the harbor. 

“So close,” Skylor murmurs. 

Lloyd flops on the ground with a dull thump, legs sprawling in front of him as he leans back on his elbows. Skylor’s makeshift sling isn’t doing much at all anymore, though it looks like he doesn’t need it to.

That, or he’s hiding pain stupidly well. Which wouldn’t be surprising, if disappointing. 

“Defeated,” he mourns. “Overthrown by rocks.”

Skylor dusts gingerly at the ground before sitting next to him. “They sure got the best of us, this time.”

“Maybe it’s a learning curve,” he says. “That or we missed, like, the optimal rock-skipping development time.”

“Mmh. Maybe we need to recruit a teacher who actually had a decent childhood.”

“If you find someone, lemme know.”

They both laugh, breathless and hollow, because they’re not much else they can say, to that. 

Lloyd sits up suddenly, pulling his knees to his chest. His arms wrap tightly around them, eyes glued forward. Instead of asking, Skylor follows his gaze to the skyline of Ninjago City, the darkened scars left behind by Garmadon and Harumi painfully pronounced this late at night. 

It couldn’t have been longer than two weeks, could it? Their rule over the city?

It feels like years.

She can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for the others — can’t imagine what it was like, ending it. 

It pains her, but Skylor doesn’t remember much of Garmadon’s defeat. She’d thrown everything she had into controlling his power, and when it had snapped back on her, ravaging through her like a cloying poison, everything had gone dark and hazy. 

It kind of sucks, because she’d done all that just to miss the most important parts, but…it is what it is.

What she does remember, besides Nya’s steady voice and Dareth’s panicked yelling, is the blazing warmth that was Lloyd carrying her.

That and his painfully bony shoulder digging into her stomach. 

“I was trying not to get us crushed,” Lloyd mutters, cheeks turning pink. “Sorry my shoulder wasn’t up to cushion-y standards.”

“And I’m trying to say thank you,” Skylor sighs. “But seriously. Put something on those bones.”

“Meh meh meh,” Lloyd mocks. There’s a lack of his usual energy in the action, the dullness to his eyes only made worse by the bruise-like circles beneath them. But it’s still very Lloyd — a flash of the friend she knows. 

“I really do mean it,” she says. “Thank you. For carrying me out of there. For saving me.”

Lloyd stares at her with dark eyes. Not as dark as they were, back when he’d lost his power, but the glow is almost entirely absent.

“You shouldn’t—” he bites off, frustrated. He tosses the rock he’s holding, up and down. “It was never a question.”

He glances at her. “Besides,” and there’s the closest she’s seen to a real smile. “You saved us first.”

Not nearly soon enough, she thinks. 

She should’ve told him, should have asked — should have let him know how it felt to watch her father fall deeper into madness, told him what it felt like to lose hope — what it meant, to move on. 

To cut ties, before they strangled you. 

“How are you,” she says, as gently as she can. Then, because gentle doesn’t always get you through the walls they build— “For real. Not how people want to hear you’re doing, or the answer you think they want. How are you.” 

Lloyd stiffens. There’s a flicker of fear in his expression, his mouth moving on instinct. 

“I’m doing okay.”

Tremors lace through his hand where he holds the rock, shuddering fingers tracing over the rough surface. 

“Okay as I can be.” He looks down, the rock slipping from his fingers as his arms wrap around himself. “I know that isn’t the answer you want, but I don’t…”

He looks back up, the lights of Ninjago City misty in his eyes.  

“I don’t know what people want me to say,” he whispers. 

Skylor wishes he’d screamed it. Wishes he’d snap, wishes he’d find the anger where it simmers inside him and turn it outwards against the world, rather than violently projecting it inwards like a masochistic missile all the time. Anything at all, instead of this hollow brokenness. 

It reminds Skylor a bit too much of—

Well. 

“I know I — things are—” Lloyd swallows. He pauses, raising his hand to scrub at an already-bloodshot eye. “Everything happened so fast. It was like — like getting hit with a bus, then another bus, then she — put the bus in reverse and ran me back over, and I never really had the chance to…to…”

“To get back up?”

Lloyd nods. He picks absently at a bloodstained patch on the leg of his gi. “And I know that’s just a stupid metaphor, but getting back up is…it’s really—”

Lloyd’s pulling threads loose now, tugging hard enough that he’s likely to start unraveling holes in his gi. 

“Can I tell you something? Something that’s not…not so good.”

“Hey, you know me.” Skylor elbows him. “I’m an expert at not-good.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a little too knowing. “You’re really not.”

And she’d turn a mirror on him, if she could. “What is it, then?”

Lloyd looks away, one unusually-sharp tooth gnawing at his lip. 

“I know my dad — my dad I used to have — he loved me. I know he did.” Lloyd sounds, rather devastatingly, like he’s trying to convince himself. “But now that he’s…now that he’s like this, and after everything that happened, I almost wish — I almost—”

He cuts off, covering his face with his hands. “Never mind.”

Skylor stays still, her gaze fixed ahead on a dark spot in the city skyline. If it were her, she’d want—

Lloyd’s voice is a muffled whisper. “I wish he’d never loved me at all.”

Skylor lets out a long, shaky breath. 

Lloyd gives a dry, horrible kind of laugh. “That’s terrible, isn’t it? It’s so selfish, it’s — I’m a horrible person, for thinking that way. But it — it hurts now, to think that — that maybe, now that I’m different — and her — that even my dad—” 

“It hurts,” she murmurs. “To lose it. To think that it’s your fault.”

Lloyd brings his arms over his head, the bandages on his left arm a stark white in the dimness as he buries his face in his knees. Curling up, as if he can make himself small enough the world will finally forget he exists. 

Skylor’s…familiar. 

But then again, is she? 

She swallows. Her father was one thing, but if — if he came back now, after she’s worked so hard to move on — at the height of his madness, what would she do? 

She’s out of her depth, as she’s always been.

But there was a reason she answered the call so fervently, a reason she followed Lloyd without hesitation. Skylor doesn’t put much stock in the Green Ninja, doesn’t put much in any kind of prophecy. But she does care, very much, about Lloyd, and she thinks that’ll take her a bit farther.

“You know.” She looks down, running her finger over their last rock. “You were one of the first people that gave me any hope that I could change. That, uh, someone could love me.”

Lloyd startles, emerging just enough that she can see the green of an eye. “Huh? Me?”

She nods. “Back on my father’s island, during the tournament. I was convinced that…that after everything I’d done, with who I was, there wasn’t a chance I’d find someone who loved me.”

Lloyd frowns, lowering his arms so he can look at her fully. “But I didn’t — Kai was the one who reached out to you. He was the one that saw you. I didn’t…I didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah. He did. But he reached out to you, first.”

Lloyd stares at her, eyes wide. Skylor smiles at him. “You were good. No matter how bad your family had been. And it…it had been okay, for you.” 

The mistiness returns to Lloyd’s eyes as he looks back to the skyline, his lip caught tightly between his teeth. 

“We’re doing okay, right?” Skylor pulls her own knees up to her chest. “You and me. I mean, we helped, a lot. We fought back for the city. You did a lot more than me, obviously, but—”

“Don’t say that,” Lloyd sounds pained. “Don’t compare it, like I’m — I do a lot more harm than good, sometimes.”

“You don’t say that,” Skylor snaps. 

Lloyd flinches. She bows her head, staring down at her feet. 

“We’re good,” she says, hating the way her voice wobbles. “We’re different.”

It’s occurring to her, how cold it is out here on the water. She hopes Lloyd doesn’t get home with a cold, on top of everything else. 

“We’re different,” Lloyd echoes.

“Yeah.” Skylor swallows. “That has to count for something, right?”

Lloyd makes a small noise, but it isn’t one of disagreement. There’s a rustling as he reaches for the bag, then holds out their final, sad rock. 

“Wanna give it the last try?” He gives her a crooked, half smile. “Make it count?”

Her fingers close over the rough surface, cold against the warmth of his hand. 

The brightness of the sun against water on her father’s island in her eyes, Skylor flings the rock as hard as she can, far enough that it’s swallowed entirely by the harbor darkness. 

If she tries, she can imagine it skipping, just once, across the freezing waters. 

She tells herself, it counts anyways.

[earthnashes]

SOOOOOOOO. Arcane season 2, huh? Now that a couple of days have passed for me to marinate I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the season. This WILL contain spoilers though so if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching for yourself first!

So! Overall, as a standalone season I feel like there are things Arcane excelled at and things that have lost its way a bit. For starters and easily the best part of the show: it's visuals. I've heard some complaints about how much the show cost but like. Brother. When I think of super expensive shows, THIS is what I think it should look like. At no point did I question the budget because it's made abundantly clear every penny is used to best use it could possibly get. And it resulted in what I've been calling a modern greek statue: a marvel, an incredible tapestry of just about every art medium you can think of woven into something so beyond anything I've seen in animation I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to express exactly how much I'm taken by it. This is a clear example of what art IS man and jesus christ. It's mindblowing. I can't praise the show enough for that, like it's literally the best looking thing I've ever seen in media.

Same with the sound design and music, particularly in the battle scenes. Something about the energy behind the sounds, like the clacking of Vi's gloves as shes revving up for a punch, or the reverb of metal clashing, the sound of how blows connect. Even the little things, like the distinct difference between footsteps, or the glitch-like sound that spiders in the backround before shimmer or the arcane is utilized? Like CHEF'S KISS BRO. God almighty it tickles a part in my head.

Just the visuals and sound design is fuckin tasty bro. A solid 1000000000/10

So now Characters. Season 2 managed to take the existing characters and really built off of what was already there. In my opinion the characters, particularly the main players, received additional depth and evolution in a way that made sense in the long run, and the conclusions they reached in their arcs felt like a correct conclusion. However, it's how they got there and how fast they get there being one of my complaints.

For starters: the love triangle between Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn. I didn't appreciate how, for the most part, it felt like it took a backseat in this season when it was one of the driving forces of season 1. It's not JUST them though: the relationships of every character kinda fell away to the wayside for the sake of getting through as much of the plot as possible, but we're on these three right now so:

-I feel like a PROPER recouncil between Vi and Jinx was sorely needed. There were hints to it, particularly in Act 2, but we were kinda left guessing and having to fill the majority of the gaps ourselves. One of Vi's driving factors as a character is her relationship with Jinx/Powder; her unable to accept that she's changed in her absence. Act 2 opened the door in allowing Vi to learn about Jinx as she is and come to terms that, even if she's changed, she's still her sister and there's a chance to bridge that gap. Vice versa to Jinx, particularly because of Isha's presence; I have to assume by becoming an older sister herself, she begins to get an understanding of Vi she previously lacked and that really could've been a stronger catalyst in her recounciling with her. Had the sisters actually got more on-screen time together and really let the hope between them breath, I feel like the ending would've had a much stronger impact.

-Cait/Vi, as much as I enjoy the pairing, felt a little too disjointed. Act 1 was the strongest showcase of their relationship; a sudden escalation driven by mutual grief and attraction and genuine care only to be torn apart immediately after because of Cait's blind rage. Cinema. Beautiful. But immediately after, we don't really see either character work off that much in my opinion. Vi does have a spiral that was very well shown, though I do wish we saw more of Pit Vi and her descent.

As far as Cait goes I would've preferred seeing her spiraling in her own way; with how the third episode of Act 1 ended, I felt like the show was gearing up to showcase how much she allows her hunt for vengeance cloud her mind and take over her life, to do things her mother would have not approved of. Like bro she was so SURE she wouldn't miss (immediately after missing every shot she took up to that point) that she was willing to potentially kill a child for it. Ain't no way she wasn't constantly frothing at the mouth for some time, wallowing in Vi's apparent "betrayal" and in the grief of her mother's death. I DO like how she is seen questioning her actions but it just feels like a tiny snapshot. Had they continued with showing her questioning what, exactly, the hell she's doing (while continuing to go on with her reign), then seeing not just Vi but also how her actions has widened the rift between Piltover and Zaun, her finally being able to break herself off would've felt more weighty.

"What are you shooting for, young Kiramman?" Grayson once asked. I can't help but feel like that line could have had some very strong carry-through into this season; not only giving a proper callback to Grayson as Cait's mentor(?) but also cement Cait's inner turmoil between blinded by revenge, but growing to dislike what she's turned into to get it.

And the sex scene. Particularly WHERE the sex scene occurred, immediately after Jinx heavily implied offing herself to "break the cycle". Vi isn't stupid. I felt like it was extremely clear what Jinx was alluding to, and it seemed like Vi understood that with how she asked "What are you gonna do?" She sounded terrified and desperate. She has SEEN Jinx be suicidal in this season first hand, was all but directly asked by Jinx to put her out of her misery herself. You're telling me she immediately bones the shit outta Cait right after Jinx scampers off and seems to forget it?? I dunno man. :/ I wouldn't remove the fuckfest, but in my opinion there were better places to put it.

And overall in terms of the characters as a whole, there was just too many gaps and too little time. Vander felt like he was underutilized, particularly his clear fight in trying to get a hold of his humanity; could've really used him to push the running theme of people can change, but they're still the same person at their very core.

Heimerdinger got shafted I feel like. He had such a strong impact in S1, only for his death to be... well. Forgotten.

Mel's storyline was way too fucking short. Love the powers she got but they ultimately felt unearned; I feel like we could've spent way more time on her learning to control it to some extent. Her whole shtick in being cunning and one step ahead of everyone (much like her mother) could've played a stronger part here too, particularly because I don't remember the Black Rose being explained much, so it would've been nice to see Mel put her strengths into play to find out for herself and give her a more active role in her ability to fight back.

Ambessa was anticlimactic and I didn't appreciate how she ultimately perished. I wanted her to die, don't get me wrong, but the war in general felt waaaaay too short and her death too easy. I appreciate they didn't go full evil with her, and made her an embodiment of Singe's quote of "doing horrendous things in the name of love", but it kinda felt like her initial plot of using hextech to fight the Black Rose (I could be wrong here but that is what it felt like she ultimately wanted) kinda got... forgotten?

Victor's progression is the only one that felt mostly natural in it's pacing. But again, with how unstoppable his robot pawns were, I felt like they really robbed the final battle of any significant weight to it; Zaun and Piltover, fighting as one against a common enemy. One of the biggest payoffs in the show... felt underwheming and, again, unearned.

And the new characters didn't really get much chance to do much of anything. Loris felt like an important parallel to Vander given how many times he was shown to look and sorta act like him. I felt like he had a bigger role to fill but just ended up bodied. Maddie, at least, had somethin interesting goin on but I feel like she could've been made more impactful in her betrayal.

Overall, a mid 5/10. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely needed more time to really flesh everything out.

And finally, the plot. I personally really enjoyed the overall plot and it's opposing themes to season 1. Whereas s1 felt like "love is undoing" and veered into tragedy, s2 felt like "love is healing" and veered into hope; the sisters learning to accept one another, Vi and Cait mending the rift between each other, Victor and Jayce finding their way back to one another. Isha giving Jinx purpose and a new perspective on life, Vander returning and, even if briefly, managing to regain his humanity for his daughters, the list goes on. It's such a beautiful contrast to season 1, but that is part of why I strongly feel like Arcane NEEDED one more season.

Season 2 was too focused on getting as much story out as possible that it didn't allow the characters themselves to push it forward, and it was weakened for it. Had there been three seasons, Act 1 and Act 2 could have been the entirety of season 2, and Act 3 could have been the whole of a season 3, where we get to see the total climax of everything that occurred. Given the rumors of there being a strong interest for an animated movie (and I have a theory that it might be to continue the story of Arcane in some way), that might help with some of the contingencies if it's true, but that's only if the movie actually comes to fruition.

As it currently stands, my biggest critique of Season 2 was switching focus on making the plot drive the story, when instead it really should've continued the trend from Season 1 in letting the characters drives the story forward.

_______

My meds is beginning to kick in and I'm getting drowsy from it so I'll leave it here for now! TLDR: Arcane Season 2 was mostly good. I have my fair bit of complaints and thoughts on how I'd personally structure everything, but a a whole, pretty good! It's one of those shows where I would personally recommend everyone watch from start to finish to at least experience it in its entirety yourself.

Season 2 Rating: 7.5/10

[baldurs-gape]

Best. Day. Ever.

Who knew that vampiric elves could get appendicitis? Not Gale, that's for sure. He had kissed Astarion goodbye in the car before getting a train to a conference. The plan had been to be away for three days. Alas, on the second day he got a call from Karlach of all people to say she was in hospital with Astarion, he was being wheeled off to the operating theatre with a suspected ruptured appendix. Never before had Gale cursed public transport more, rushing to his room to shove everything into a suitcase and running for a bus to take him to the train station.

"How is he?" He asked Karlach from the taxi that would finally get him to the hospital.

"Just waking up, they've let me sit with him."

"Thank you. I'll be there in ten minutes." Holding the phone away from his mouth, Gale leaned forward to talk to the driver. "I will pay you double your rate if you get me there in five minutes."

Still on the phone, he blindly handed over notes and waved off any change. "Right, through the main entrance, first set of stairs on the right, up a flight, out the corridor and?"

"Turn right, past the corridor to the theatres and it's the next corridor with double doors on the left. It's signposted." Karlach laughed softly. "You're going to love this, he's adorable."

Adorable was not a word Gale would have usually applied to Astarion and his brows rose. Almost tripping up the stairs, he tried not to sprint the last little bit. Slipping through the double doors, the nurses' station was manned by a couple of people, one of whom pointed him to a curtained off rail. Tugging his shirt straight, Gale walked over and took a moment to listen to Karlach's voice, soft and gentle.

"-and then we had to phone Dammon to help us untangle our horns. Can you believe Wyll almost broke my other one? He didn't dare kiss me for days afterward!"

Along with her warm cadence was the steady beep of a machine, no doubt monitoring all sorts of vitals. At least it was all steady and nobody was coming running. Gale stepped in.

The beeping of the machine stopped for a moment, missing one of the regular beats before picking up at a faster pace.

"Wow." Astarion was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth a little open. "You're beautiful."

Usually Gale would have laughed it off, it was something Astarion liked to tell him to fluster him. However, none of the usual teasing was there, just honest awe.

"I could say the same about you," he replied and stepped closer, taking one of Astarion's hands in his. "How are you feeling?"

To his chagrin, the hand was pulled from his with a soft "oh no, no thank you" and Astarion stared up at him, heart still beating fast. Next to the bed, Karlach looked like she was about to lose her battle against laughter.

"You're kind but I'm married," Astarion continued staring at Gale, unblinking.

"I know." Holding up his hand, Gale showed his ring. "I'm married to you."

"Really?" The joy on Astarion's face was unguarded and pure. "You really chose to marry me?"

Reaching out again, Gale's hand was grabbed this time and the ring was inspected as Astarion pulled himself up to get a better look.

"I put that on you. With your permission!" As quickly as Gale's hand was grabbed, it was released as Astarion flopped back and grinned up at the ceiling, a huff of a laugh escaped him before he turned to look at Karlach. "Did you know I was allowed to marry him?"

"I was there, Fangs, as your best man."

If it was possible, Astarion's eyes went wider and he smiled like he'd won the lottery, eyes closed.

"I have friends. Who came to my wedding. To my husband." The words became a mumble but as Karlach and Gale's eyes met, they heard one more sleepy murmur. "Best. Day. Ever."

[takumiraine]

Once Upon a Time chapter 7

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Danny is still going thru it. I’m not going to put it on Ao3 until I’m done with it. I have no idea about a master post though.

Some blood and a bit of puke in this chapter.

—

Danny was furious. Furious and terrified and alone.

Jason. His one friend. Red Hood. The man who had sworn he wasn’t a Bat. They were the same person. They worked with Batman. Bruce Wayne funded the Justice League. Bruce Wayne was Jason’s father.

He was going to be sick.

Danny stopped running to throw up in an alley, half bile, half swallowed blood. His nose was still dripping and oozing and throbbing and the force of his heaving set it bleeding in earnest again. He swore, spitting on the ground, before flattening himself into the shadows as the trill of police cars sped by, heading the direction he had just left.

He had to find a way to contact Tucker and Sam. Tucker was monitoring the GIW passively, and it was set up to know if anyone searched for him. If there was suddenly more chatter or a mobilization. But if the Bats were watching him…

Danny checked the street and darted another couple blocks before pressing against another wall and checking. When he got to his building, he scampered up to his apartment and locked himself in. Not that the locks would do anything against anyone that seriously wanted to hurt him but…. He moved his bed up against the door too.

Danny went to sigh out of his nose and spattered half clotted blood everywhere again. “Ancients fucking damn it!” Danny felt tears springing to his eyes at the thought of yet another mess he’d have to clean up before he could pass out. He went to the bathroom and growled at his reflection in the mirror. The break in his nose was obvious and he knew that if he didn’t fix it now, it would slowly fix itself over the next week or two.

If he had a shitton of food and a way into the Zone without drawing suspicion he could heal it in a couple hours but…

A deep breath in and a gritted yell out, and Danny was able to reset it, icing it in place with the little bit of his powers he was able to use without drawing attention. Gotham had a lot of random cold spells from that one supervillain. Danny wasn’t going to argue it.

He changed his shirt, and washed out the blood in cold water, gingerly wiping off his face as he went. Once it was laid in the kitchen sink to dry, Danny took the duct tape he had in his drawer and taped his windows shut.

The point was to make it obvious if they were tampered with and make a lot of noise in the process.

From there, he pulled his blankets into the tub, crawled on top of them and went to sleep, thankful it was the weekend. He would get the blood off the wood in the morning. He didn’t sleep well, waking up with barely muffled shouts and gasps for breath as the memories of broken bones healing while being used, burns so bad he couldn’t feel them regrowing nerves, the concussive blast of the Fenton Bazooka, the shredding feeling of the Fenton Ghost Peeler haunting his unconscious mind.

The irony of his parents handing over their otherwise harmless weapons to the GIW who upgraded them into the most painful versions possible under the guise of protecting him from Phantom was not lost on him.

He did not go to campus Saturday or Sunday, but showed up for his Monday class the slightest bit late, anxiety chewing through him like squirrels liked to gnaw through cables. Jason was in their usual spot, but Danny slid into one nearest the door, frowning when he caught Jason looking at him. He knew he was still all bruised up, he had to ration again, and aside from some bottom of the barrel cheap ass junk food, he hadn’t eaten this weekend at all.

He could feel Jason’s eyes on him most of the lesson, and Danny kept his head down, scrawling his notes the best he could with battered and split knuckles. He felt one of the scabs tear and absently lifted it to his mouth, making sure he didn’t bleed all over his notes. From across the room, Danny felt something from Jason’s core and used his own to push back “no” and “asshole”.

Jason might not be able to tell exactly what Danny meant, or even why, but he should be able to get a vibe. Judging by the small flinch, barely perceptible even when Danny was looking right at Jason, Danny was fairly certain his point was made.

The end of class came and Danny was the first one out the door, pushing his core down to nothing and ducking down another hallway and into a doorway of an empty classroom. He sat against the wall there to do his homework, rather than being predictable and going to the library.

Jason was well aware that he had fucked up. Danny looked half dead, more than the first time, with bruises on his face and hands and up his sleeves. Then Danny’s knuckle split and he sucked it into his mouth. Jason felt a pile of things swirl around the place in his stomach the pit occupied. Guilt tinged with arousal, followed by embarrassment at the arousal in this situation and then…. He felt like a wall slammed into the pit. He didn’t flinch, not anymore, but there was a hard blink in response. Danny’s glare told him all he needed to know. It had come from him. Somehow.

Then class was over and Danny bolted almost immediately. By the time Jason made it out of class after him, he was gone.

The next couple of classes went the same way.

Jason needed to find him, to talk, to explain, to apologize, to ask him how the fuck he knew. He almost got his chance on Wednesday when Jason was in the library with Babs, shelving books silently with her. Danny snuck around the corner and startled so hard he dropped the book he had been planning to check out, probably for their lit class. He looked between Babs and Jason for one tense moment, and Jason watched him go pale(r) in the bright lights. He opened his mouth and reached out a hand, and Danny flinched away, fear slamming into Jason like the force of that bomb. When he could breathe again, Danny was gone.

“He’s afraid of us…” Jason muttered, confused. “He took on six goons in the middle of the night and got stabbed, but still walks around Gotham at night without fear…. But he’s afraid of us.”

Babs looked up at him. “We need to find out what happened.” Her voice was matter of fact. “Before B stumbles into it and makes things worse.”

“I know.”

Friday, Jason got his chance.

Danny was creeping across the courtyard and Jason was just happening to cross at a different point. “Danny!” He called, just loud enough to be heard. He had his hands up, empty, as he approached. He was ready for the fear slamming into him this time, and ate the angry that followed behind it. “Wait. Please. It’s important.” Danny didn’t move, didn’t run, though he was scoping out exits. Jason made sure to leave him with several.

“You have one minute. Any other…. Associate…. Joins you and you don’t get another chance.”

“Fair. It’s just us.” Jason came close enough that he could talk without being overheard, hands still up. “I want to say I’m sorry first. I wanted to tell you, but it isn’t something I can really tell people and the relationship is complicated and we don’t really work together. But that’s not the point. B wants to know how you knew it was me and how the pit got to you. We tried to look it…. You… up but there was a weird firewall? Some account required shit and a number. One of the…. Others… called it and it went to a government information warehouse? She pretended it was a wrong number and it was on a burner that we destroyed after but- “

Danny looked ashen. “You called the GIW?”

“You know them?”

“They want to kill me. Again.” Danny crumpled to the ground, hunching in on himself. He took a step closer to hear what Danny was whispering. “-gonna fillet me… don’t have the shield, need to warn Tucker and Sam and…. No not Jazz. She’s normal… she’s safe… they don’t want her… they only want me… my fault…my fault…”

When it turned into Danny just repeating “my fault” over and over, Jason knelt beside him. Danny flinched, curled in deeper, but Jason just gently placed his hand on Danny’s shoulder, reminding him quietly of where they were and that he was safe.

It took time, but slowly Danny’s rapid and shallow breathing returned to normal. He looked up at Jason. “Why…? Why are you doing this to me?”

“We didn’t mean to call the government. Everything ever associated with you has had a firewall around it. Oracle can’t break in without alerting them. Why are they after you?”

“Batman and the league called them.”

“I…. They’ve never worked with the government.”

“Right.”

“Seriously.” Danny still looked skeptical Jason raised a hand calmingly. “Okay. Let’s pause that. Why do you think they would call them on you. What happened?”

“There was a lot of… weird and dangerous stuff happening in my town…. With me. I kept calling the league and leaving them messages. First asking for help… then asking for someone to just talk to me… make sure I wasn’t… going to hurt someone. Then the GIW showed up…”

“What does GIW really stand for?”

“We always called them the Guys in White, because that’s all they wore… but..” Danny took a fortifying breath. Jason noticed he was shaking. “Ghost Investigation Ward. See… my parents… were inventors and I accidentally turned myself into a halfa when I fixed something of theirs…”

Jason stared. It was a lot to take in. Bruce wouldn’t have ignored a kid asking for help. Hell, Supes or the Flash could have been there and back in less time than it took him to have a cup of coffee. So many questions ran through Jason’s mind, starting with why had he been the one the universe picked for this? Dick and Tim were both more emotionally available, able to give more than just a ‘there there’ or ‘that’s rough buddy’. Instead of the reasonable questions, like ‘what kind of weird things?’ or ‘what are you capable of?’ Jason just asked “Halfa?”

“Half ghost. Half human. Technically I died in my parents’ basement. But also I didn’t.”

“Is that how you knew it was me?”

“Yeah. Gotham has a little ambient ecto, all the violent deaths here. Not as much as home but, it works. You died once too though, pretty… permanently. But your core was still weak. It’s formed up a lot more with me, but it’s…. Like a fingerprint.”

“I need to tell B. That you’re being hunted by the government guys and why you think it was him and the league that sold you out. He’s going to want to crack the firewall, and probably hear your side of the story himself.”

“Just… when they come give me as much of a heads up as you can. We were… or you pretended we were friends. You owe me that much.”

“If I have to take on those dicks myself, I will. I won’t let them keep hunting you here. Those of us that died but got better have to stick together.”

Danny still looked suspicious. Jason didn’t blame him. “When he cracks the firewall, he’s going to learn who I really am. If…. If he wants me to trust him, I need to know who he really is.” Danny eventually said, quietly. Jason didn’t blame him.

“I’ll tell him that.” Jason didn’t know what Bruce would say to that. He assumed the answer would be as close to ‘No fucking way in any hell that exists or was ever imagined’ as Bruce got. But he would ask.

Danny nodded. Seeming smaller and way older than he should. Looking like a man that hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in years. Like every drop of anything worth anything had been wrung out of him. Jason knew that feeling. He wanted to make Danny feel safe again. If Danny really did try to avoid hurting people, he deserved safety.

He could have outed Jason to the whole town. He didn’t. Jason thought that was something. “I’ll talk to him.” Jason promised again.

[33max]

max wins his fourth championship

red bull turkey dinosaurs au, 1560 words

The moment Gianpiero sees Max’s crinkly-eyed smile and fluffy hair plastered across every TV screen in the paddock, he knows Max is going to drop. Maybe not yet, but soon. It’s obvious to GP now, especially because he’s had 4 years to start recognising the signs.

Max has dropped after every championship win. GP doesn’t know if it’s the relief of finally claiming the title, or Max allowing himself to celebrate exactly how he wants to, but either way, the team love celebrating with the little guy. There is nothing better than his unbridled childlike wonder and squawking giggles filling the garage after a win.

“You’re going with Max,” Christian tells him, he’s sat a couple of seats down on the pit wall – his headphones still on after congratulating Max.

“Am I?” GP asks, surprised. Max won the title, but he only placed P5 - he’s not going on the podium. Why would GP be going with Max?

“There’s a car ride to the Bellagio,” Christian says, then softens his eyes and insists. “You go with him in the car.”

He gets it now. Christian is worried Max will drop too soon, and if he does then GP needs to be there with him. He doesn’t need to be told twice.

The walk to Parc Ferme is chaos. There are bodies everywhere. The pit lane is full of people celebrating, mechanics trying to get to their cars, photographers, journalists, and paddock club members swarming. But he makes it through.

The moment he sees Max, he starts running. His driver has just won their fourth championship in a row and he can’t wait to throw his arms around Max. They knew the win was a possibility today, but GP didn’t think it would happen, especially not with a DIY rear wing. But Max always surprises him.

“You were amazing!” GP screams as he gets close enough for Max to hear him. He acts on impulse, maybe because Max looked so soft on the TV footage, or maybe because GP can feel how much Max needs a hug. Either way, before he knows it he’s bending down and lifting Max up like he does when Max is small, holding him so tightly as Max giggles loudly.

“You did exactly what you needed to, mate!” GP says, “You knew who our race was with and you made it happen.”

“Only P5,” Max says, shrugging, as GP puts his feet back on the floor. GP hates how hard Max is on himself sometimes, even with a championship win today Max considers P5 the fourth loser.

“It was the best we could have got from the car today, Max.” GP affirms, “More than the car deserved actually.”

Max smiles, cheeks turning a little pink with the praise.

“My world champ!” GP says, refocusing Max on the huge positive. He puts a hand on Max’s shoulder and shakes him a little, so damn proud.

They’re ushered into an obnoxious Rolls Royce with fairy lights on the ceiling and far too many buttons that Max immediately starts pressing.

“Look,” Max says, shyly indicating what each button does.

“Yeah, cool isn’t it?” GP replies, going along with it. He suspects Max has already started to drop, usually Max isn’t so enamoured by buttons.

“Jeep, I won,” Max whispers. Maybe the microphones can pick it up and GP will have a new nickname in the paddock tomorrow, or maybe they can’t and the name Jeep will still be reserved for only Max to call him – it doesn’t matter either way.

GP looks over to Max, leans back in his seat, and smiles fondly, “Yes, you did. How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty,” Max says.

GP hands him his water bottle, filled with a fruity electrolyte drink, the long bendy straw is tied up so GP unties it and hands Max the mouthpiece.

“Tank you,” Max says through his slow sips.

The next few hours are full on, but GP stays close to Max, making sure Max doesn’t drop too deep. He ends up lingering just outside of the TV pen, following Max to each interview, and standing next to him in the group photo.

“Jeep,” Max whines, after the team has thoroughly drenched him in red bull and champagne. He’s tugging on the sleeve of GP’s jacket rather insistently, trying to drag him back towards the hospitality building.

GP knows immediately that Max has dropped fully, that he’s probably around 3 or 4 years old now mentally.

“What is it, Maxy?” GP asks gently, “What do you need?”

“Sticky.” Max flaps his arms. “No no no.”

GP nods, he leans down and scoops Max up onto his shoulder. A fireman’s carry. One that doesn’t look immediately strange if there are any photos of this online.

“Come on then, time to get the world champion in the shower!” GP laughs, running towards the building.

“No Jeep!” Max squeals, “No shower! BAFF!”

So, a bath it is then.

Rupert, almost magically, has the blow-up bathtub ready for Max when they get back to his driver’s room. There are lots of bubbles and three rubber ducks floating on the top, a daddy, a mummy, and a baby duck. Max’s little duck family travel to every race with them.

“Well done, buddy,” Rupert says when they barge into the room. He takes Max from GP, holding him on his hip and giving him a quick bounce. “We are so proud of you.”

Max nuzzles into Rupert’s neck.

“Rupy, baff,” Max points. “Sticky.”

GP and Rupert work together to get Max out of his clothes, he’s got so many layers on to combat the cold Vegas night. They both chucklenwhen they pull off one sock and then there’s another one right underneath.

Eventually, once Max is free of all clothes and socks, GP lifts him into the tub.

He splishes splashes, happily babbling to his ducks.

“You going to call Dan?” Rupert asks quietly. The elephant in every room. Daniel isn’t here. Nobody can blame him, either.

GP nods. “Yeah, I was waiting for a quiet moment alone. I think it would have been too much for Max earlier, he would have dropped deep in front of everyone, and that’s not fair to him or Daniel.”

“Yeah,” Rupert agrees. “I’ll leave you guys to it while you call him, don’t worry about the bath, I’ll clean up in here when you’re done.”

Rupert gives Maxy a quick kiss on the head, and Maxy brings baby duck up to peck at Rupert’s cheek. “Bye Rupy!”

It makes GP’s heart swell, how lovely and innocent this version of Max is. How sweet and kind. How delicate.

“Maxy, shall we call Daddy now?”

Maxy looks at him with huge, adoring blue eyes, nodding desperately.

“Ok,” GP says, calling Daniel on FaceTime.

He hands Max the phone as it’s ringing.

“Try not to drop my phone in the bath, Maxy,” GP tells him, “Do safe hands, okay?”

Max is just about to reply when Daniel answers, and the screen fills with his big smile.

“Daddy!” Maxy beams, flapping a little. Daniel probably can’t see him very well.

“Oh, baby,” Daniel says, eyes wet. “You’re small already?”

Max nods, bringing his baby duck up towards the camera to peck and kiss at the phone screen. GP has to look away, it’s so sweet that it feels like it should be a private moment between the two of them.

“You were so good today, baby.” Daniel sobs, “You won and I am so proud of you.”

Max nods again, happy, but GP can tell it’s not the championship he’s happy about now. He’s happy because he’s talking to his Daddy.

“When Daddy come?” Max pouts. “Daddy, what about my night night bottle? And story time?”

“I am coming, baby,” Daniel says, panning the camera around to show Max the airport lounge he is sitting in. “I am coming to give you your bottle and a really big cuddle. Is that okay?”

“Yes!” Max splashes in excitement, and GP worries about his phone.

“Okay, Daddy will be there in two hours,” Daniel tells him, “I’m coming, Maxy.”

GP watches as Max babbles and giggles on the phone to Daniel until eventually Max’s eyes droop a little and Daniel has to get on the plane.

“Alright Maxy, tell Daddy you’ll see him very soon,” GP says, prompting Max to start saying his goodbyes. “See you soon, Dan!”

“Bye Daddy,” Maxy yawns, “See you soon.”

Once GP has hung up the call, and his phone is back to safety on the dry desk, he begins to lift Max out of the bath.

Getting him dry is always a challenge. Max twists and turns to avoid the towel as it tickles his tummy, and he absolutely does not let anyone near his ears so GP has to be extra careful when drying his hair. But eventually, Max is dry and in his pyjamas, a footed onesie with dinosaurs on it.

“Very handsome,” GP says, kissing his forehead as he lifts Max up and onto his hip. “Shall we go and see the mechanics before Daddy gets here? I know they’ll want to see you.”

“Okay,” Max says softly, laying his head on GP’s shoulder.

Max is asleep before they are even out the door of his driver’s room, but that’s okay, GP has him.