#didn't plan it out exactly but it turned out this way

[thetadispatcher]

The URS12 carefully placed her paws on Rook in a clumsy attempt at mimicking a hug. It was something she'd witnessed enough to know it was something the ones around her do, and she could tell the action wasn't a threatening one based on how they reacted.

Vincent stopped messing with his ear long enough to watch the other android step away, and to take a moment who was still close to him. The only two still close to him were Peter and Sixty, the human was busy passing cables to the android to plug in.

"I-I have, uh, half that number al-alread-already." The AP700 mumbled, doing his best to make sure he could be heard even if it was struggle. He still wasn't comfortable talking to people he didn't know, so often he found himself going unheard if he did speak. So, he'd decided that speaking at a volume others could hear was a good place to start, and he'd also found having to repeat himself to be stressful as it meant he had to spend more time talking when he'd rather be quiet.

He turned his head away as he wrapped his free arm around himself, his other hand had already returned to fidgeting with his damaged ear. He was aware of the fact turning away didn't help people hear what he was saying, but the thought of actually facing the person caused him more stress then knowing he might have to repeat himself.

Sixty glanced at Vincent, his programs alerting him to the AP700's current stress level and emotional state which he quickly dismissed. Sure, the android's stress was in the red, but it wasn't anywhere close to the levels Sixty had seen it at in the past, and Vincent wasn't a risk for self destructing as the android had proven many times in the past.

The RK800 focused back on his task, getting out from under the desk once it was complete. He took a moment to make sure Peter no longer needed his assistance before he turned to Willow. "There's an entire room full of plush toys and other stuff. I could show it to you when we're done." He calmly explained, he would've suggested Vincent do it himself but he felt that might be pushing him too far. He'd already done a lot of thing he wasn't comfortable with, and forcing him to keep interacting with strangers might do more harm then good.

"When it comes to humans, yes, it would seem that way." Dan had yet to see an android act like the human friends Peter had made. Sure the human did talk to some strange androids, but they were harmless compared to his former friends.

"Of course, he did it in broad daylight in the middle of a park. He wasn't exactly intelligent... Insane? Yes. Smart? Only if you asked him..." Dan wasn't surprised that Johan hadn't thought out confronting Peter very well, the man was easily blinded by his own delusions and let them take priority instead of figuring out a safe way to act out his plans. It was the only good thing the PL600 could list for the human, he shuddered to think how dangerous Johan would be if he actually took the time to carefully plan out anything.

"His parents also worked for Cyberlife, so they had an old prototype unit that lived with them. It was a household unit that had the unfortunate task of caring for their son, and from what we were able to get from his memories... Johan wasn't the kindest to him. Currently he is at Jericho with a group of KL900s trying to undo the mental damage that was done." Dan glanced at Peter who was busy helping Brent finish the current android.

"They found him in the abandoned building Johan was living in... When they arrested Johan, he was in a state of panic. Pleading they leave, that no one was allowed inside or he'd be in trouble. Once he was informed of Johan's arrest, it became worse. He begged them to let him go, claiming the human needed him and that he had to take care of him." He paused to turn his focus back to Rook and Bishop.

"I don't fully know what he did to that android, but it is similar to Stockholm syndrome. He just sees himself in the caretaker role, and clearly fears Johan to some degree." He hoped that eventually the android would recover, and finally get to live a life without worrying about what might upset Johan and get him punished.

"Nines has made a few attempts to get Johan to speak about his history with his caretaker unit, but so far it's been a waste of time. He always winds up accusing his android of being evil and needing to be stopped... We've even tried to get something as simple as his name, but they refuse to give it and there's no one else who can provide it. The Ross family never officially registered the android." They didn't even know what the prototype's model was called, so they really had nothing to use to identify it other then using the term John Doe.

It didn't feel right as the android clearly had a name, but inquiring about it only led to panicked screaming, and interfacing with the unit was impossible.

Daniel frowned slightly, he felt he was missing an important piece of information about why their guests knew about the people Dan had listed. He could tell they were clearly talking about alternative versions, but he had a feeling they did something far different then the ones Dan had told him about.

A quick glance from Dan however was all he needed to know he shouldn't ask. Somehow the other PL600 knew what the other ones had done, and from the stern look he'd been given, he could tell it was much worse then anything their versions had done.

Strasky glanced at Dan, knowing the others would quickly pick up on the fact the android knew everything about PATHOS-II and the people behind its downfall. He hadn't told Dan anything, the android had accidentally touched some of the structure gel on his body.

Thanks to Dan being a machine, and the fact the gel had made contact with the sensitive sensors in his palm, meant he received an unwanted jolt of Strasky's memories without touching the main stalk connected to his brain. He hadn't thought about what would happen if an android accidentally touched the structure gel, he'd assumed it would be no different then when humans touched it. And he had no time to stop Dan once he realized he was wrong as it was far too late.

All he could do was be thankful it was Dan as the PL600 wouldn't share anything he learned, he understood the importance of keeping it a secret. And the structure gel hadn't infected the household unit, so there was no need for him to worry about what harm it might do to the android or anyone who tried to fix him.

Bishop watched the polar bear act like an overgrown puppy, questioning whether this place wasn't all just a big playground for a kid and his androids. Of course, he wasn't surprised that Rook had managed to fit right in, she had as much of a penchant for surrounding herself with freaks.

Of course, she was having a grand time petting that fluffy bear. He couldn't possibly imagine wasting time with such things.

"It's a real shame you're surrounded by potential witnesses." Willow taunted him.

No, he didn't want to pet the bear.

The android Bishop nodded to Vincent, then stood up to go get his new arm. It was a rather simple operation, thus he was perfectly able to keep an eye on things in case his presence was needed again.

Willow spoke softly, preferring to keep her attention on the rest of the room instead of looking at Vincent. "I take care of quite a few children. Would you be able to provide me with— Let's see. The closest amount to one hundred plushies would be ideal."

"I can respect someone who decides not to be an ass." Rook said, watching Sixty. She watched as Dan and Daniel panicked and honestly wasn't surprised to hear the reason behind that behavior. "Oh."

"I'm beginning to notice a pattern." Bishop mused, "The Straskys are rather bad at picking their friends, aren't they?"

"No shit. It's the same three guys." Rook replied, "Did you catch that guy?"

"They didn't let me murder him." the android Bishop protested.

[dexteri0us]

i know i haven't been perfect, but give it some time; 'cause not a single day goes by where you don't cross my mind

pairing: dexter morgan x f!reader

warnings: fluff, injuries (burns and cuts), louis greene, and you know... dexter's dark passenger

summary: requested: "dexter being super protective of you and when he finds out someone hurt you he immediately starts hunting him to kill him"

w/c: 5.5k

a/n: spoiler alert? it made me sad that dexter didn't get to kill louis, so here we go.

Louis is taking me to the hospital. Don’t freak out. Lab mishap.

You pressed send and the text appeared in a blue bubble, under it, there was a Delivered sign that quickly turned into Read.

Which hospital?

Jackson Memorial.

I’m on my way.

You didn’t really like it when people fussed over you. It felt unnecessary and only brought you discomfort most of the time. But this time, you couldn’t deny the relief knowing Dexter would meet you at the hospital.

“Who are you texting?” Came the voice from the driver’s seat.

You cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “My boyfriend.”

“Dexter?” Louis asked with a feigned curiosity.

You couldn’t stand him anymore; he was such a fake asshole it was physically hurting you. And today was honestly the last straw.

You’d spent the better part of your morning setting up your experiment, testing your final samples. The data was supposed to solidify your findings and allow you to finish your thesis.

Everything was in place, your samples loaded into the centrifuge as you triple-checked everything. Everything. The protocol, the settings on the centrifuge, spinning the rotor with your hand, ensuring that it was balanced and the lid was closed tight.

Louis had been hovering all the fucking time. You had tried to ignore him, but you couldn’t exactly tell him to go fuck himself. The lab at your school was a shared space.

“You really think you’re going to finish today?” He’d mocked you. But that didn’t throw you off. You knew you were, because you were prepared.

But then you stepped away from the centrifuge for just five seconds to retrieve your laptop. When you returned, you put the laptop next to the machine and pressed the start button on the centrifuge, causing it to whir to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster. Then suddenly, a sharp, metallic clunk echoed in the room, followed by a horrific screech. The centrifuge rattled violently and the lid flew open. Glass shards and liquid shot out like shrapnel and you barely had time to shield your face with your arm.

The pain was instant. A jagged piece of glass sliced across your forearm, and a burning sensation spread where the liquid splashed onto your skin.

“Shit!” Louis exclaimed, rushing forward with exaggerated concern. “Are you okay?”

You just clutched your arm, blood seeping between your fingers. The burn on your forearm throbbed, angry red splotches already forming. Your vision suddenly became blurred with tears of pain and frustration combined, but you held them back. You were not going to cry in school.

The commotion drew others into the lab, including your supervisor. And of course, Louis was quick to throw you under the bus. And, okay, you weren't wearing your lab coat, but nobody really was if they did something as simple as loading samples into a centrifuge.

Your supervisor sent you to the nurse, telling Louis to escort you in case you got dizzy. The nurse bandaged your arm and sent you to a hospital for further treatment. Louis chimed in, playing the part of a kind and worried colleague, and driving you there himself.

“Yes; Dexter. He’s on his way, so you can just drop me off and head back to the lab.”

“Nonsense. I can't have anything else happen to you.”

Bullshit. He wouldn’t even blink if the shards had hit your carotid artery and you bled out right there. Who knows, maybe that had been his plan all along. Louis had it out for you and Dexter, his petty vendetta against you couldn't be more transparent.

“Louis, please.” You closed your eyes in exasperation, your eyes still burning from the tears that tried to push their way through. “I know that you messed with the centrifuge. I don’t have proof, so don’t worry. I’m not gonna do anything. But at least have the decency to stop pretending that you’re innocent.”

You saw his jaw flex and his knuckles get white from how he clutched the steering wheel, but he didn’t say anything. Frankly, you were getting uncomfortable being alone with Louis in the car, but luckily, the hospital came into view.

You tried to convince Louis to go, but he wouldn’t budge. He knew you hated his presence, and he reveled in the feeling that he was making you uncomfortable. You also had a hunch he waited for Dexter so he could provoke him too. He was like a lurking predator, leaning against the far wall, as the nurse gave you a sympathetic smile, adjusting the bandage on your arm. The burn cream was cool against your skin, but the sting of the injury sent vibrations through your whole arm.

The door opened, and your muscles finally relaxed. Dexter stepped in, his focused gaze sweeping the room. His eyes landed on you first, taking in the bandage on your arm and the nurse’s careful work. Then, his gaze flicked towards Louis.

Louis straightened up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Dexter, hey! Don’t worry, YN’s alright. I made sure she got here safe.”

Dexter ignored him. If he hadn’t, he might have done something… nobody here needed to see. There was going to be time for that to do it right. Instead, he made his way straight to you.

“Hey,” you said with a tired smile.

His hand reached out to cup your head, his thumb brushing your temple and over the edge of your eyebrow in a soothing manner as his other hand hovered over your injured arm, as if to make sure it was still attached. His brows were furrowed, his shoulders and chest stiff as if he was holding his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Getting burned by an oven hurts more.” You tried to lighten the mood, but humor wasn't exactly his way of coping.

“What’s he still doing here?”

“I think he wants to steal you away from me.”

“YN…”

“I don’t know, Dex. He’s a fucking vulture, you know that. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t.”

You weren't even joking anymore; it wouldn’t surprise you if Louis had done this to get Dexter’s attention. Or get back at you for having Dexter’s attention. Louis had probably been obsessed with him long before you started coming to the Miami Metro’s forensics lab to work on your thesis. Louis, as a graduate and now a lab tech at your university as well as a senior intern at Miami Metro, was supposed to be your guide, to help you acclimate.

You had known Louis from school, and ever since he’d started working at Miami Metro, his ego had been bursting through the roof, so you hadn’t been so psyched when you’d found out you’d have to share a working space, but hey, what could you do. At least, he was genuinely eager to assist, proudly showcasing his knowledge of the lab’s high-tech equipment and Miami Metro’s most famous cases. But his favorite thing to do was name-dropping Dexter. Louis had never said it in those words, but Dexter was like a god to him.

“He’s a genius. Everyone here knows it. Stick with me, and you might even learn enough to impress him.”

You’d fought the urge to roll your eyes. “I’m here to work on my thesis, Louis. Not to waste my time.”

Louis had always been too loud, too close and most importantly, too self-important for your liking, and you’d thought back then already, that his admiration for Dexter bordered with obsession.

And when you finally met the famous Dexter Morgan, you were surprised how underwhelming it was. You actually expected another loud and arrogant scientist, but he was the exact opposite.

One morning, while you were struggling with the calibration of a piece of equipment, a calm and monotone voice spoke behind you.

“You’re off by a millimeter.”

You jumped out of your skin, closing your eyes to regain composure before turning around and finding Dexter with his hands in his pockets, just standing there. You hadn’t met, but you knew what he looked like.

“Fuck, thanks. Were you trying to give me a heart attack to keep me from using it? Jesus Christ.” You were still shaking off the jumpscare you just received.

“Sorry.”

“You’re good. Dexter, right? The guy who specializes in puddles.”

“Blood spatter analyst,” he corrected with a nod, and for a moment, you were taken aback by the lack of reaction to your joke. You introduced yourself and shook his hand, before he left without another word.

To him, you were just another in a parade of visiting academics, someone he’d forget as soon as your project ended.

Well, apparently, you liked to talk, making it hard for him to ignore you. It's not like you were targeting him specifically, you were just a naturally friendly person.

Vince's attention wasn't exactly hard to earn, especially if you were a woman, but Dexter noticed how you laughed even with Angel. Not that Angel was a touch-me-not, but it was still surprising to see you navigate the station with such ease, like a newcomer staking a claim in unfamiliar territory. You didn't force yourself into conversations; you didn't even have to. You had your own gravity around you, and people were magnetized to it.

“If you need something, Louis is your liaison.” He tried to brush you off one time, gesturing vaguely towards the open lab door.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, undeterred. “But Louis is busy explaining to someone how he’s basically the second coming of Einstein, so I figured I’d ask the real expert.”

But you didn’t wait for him to respond, taking the hint and leaving him alone. For now anyway. It made the corner of Dexter’s mouth twitch, but he caught himself and got back to his work. He thought about it for a moment before deciding that it would be suspicious if he was the only one ignoring you.

Over the next few weeks, you made a habit of dropping by his desk. At first, he found your presence… perplexing. You asked too many questions – some of them genuinely insightful, others just… so absurd. You often hovered just enough to be noticeable, but not enough to be intrusive. And your sense of humor seemed to exist solely to see how far you could push him before he reacted. And to create a bond with his sister.

You and Deb shared that bark, and he didn’t know what to make of it. The sarcasm often rang through the breakroom, and while he wasn’t one to eavesdrop, one time he heard a mention of his name.

“Does your brother ever smile?” you asked Deb, leaning against the counter.

“Well, you know, occasionally.”

“Yeah, what’s the occasion? Winning the lottery? Accidentally putting sugar in his coffee instead of salt?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. Why would I put salt in my coffee? But unlike him, Deb laughed.

“More like when someone's bleeding out somewhere. You don’t even wanna see that, it’s creepy as hell.”

“He’s fascinating actually,” you said when you stopped laughing, taking another sip of your coffee.

Fascinating. Most people called him odd, socially awkward, or at best, smart. His victims called him sick or a freak. But fascinating was new. And unsettling. He didn’t particularly like being noticed, but he found himself not minding your attention. Dexter realized that when he came in on Louis scolding you for talking him.

“He’s not your friend or your assistant, okay?” Louis snapped at you, his voice rising in frustration. “I am. So, stop bothering him and do some actual work.”

Before you could respond, Dexter stepped in, his voice firm. “Woah, Louis. Thanks, but I think I can handle myself.”

“I’m just saying, she’s supposed to focus on her thesis—”

“And she is. I also don’t mind helping her.” He turned to you then. “At least, when she ends up working here, she’ll already know the ropes.”

Dexter wasn’t serious, he didn’t even know if you ever wanted to work in forensics. But to Louis, the words felt like a slap. For months, he’d bent over backward to gain Dexter’s respect, but he’d never earned more than a dismissive glance. And you just waltzed in, cracked a couple of jokes, and suddenly, you were like Dexter's personal pet.

It was clear he didn’t like how Dexter responded to you. You noticed how his behavior changed, becoming petty even at your university lab. It was like he was waiting for you to make a mistake while his jokes grew meaner, more passive-aggressive

However, Louis was still essentially a random guy. He wasn't your superior, so you didn’t let him scare you off. If he wanted to report you to your school, you had Vince's backing, and now Dexter's too, you hoped. You believed you hadn't done anything wrong, you still got your work done, so there was no reason to feel guilty.

That meant that you never limited yout contact with Dexter, who also grew more responsive over the time. You figured out that most of his laughter stemmed in ridicule, with his brows furrowed and looking at you like you were an alien which made a smile grow on your face, so you decided to lean into it. Did it make you look dumb? Yes. Did it make Dexter laugh? Yes in capital letters.

Deb was the one who finally pointed out what you had been trying to make painfully obvious for weeks.

“Jesus Christ, Dexter,” she said incredulously, smiling at him as if asking are you serious? “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

He looked up from the folder, his expression blank. “What are you talking about?”

“YN. The girl from the lab. She’s been flirting with you nonstop, and you’ve been staring at her like she’s a new blood sample. Do you even know how to human?”

His whole face scrunched up, going over your past interactions in his head. “She hasn’t been flirting. She’s just… talkative.”

Deb rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle she didn’t sprain something. “Oh my God. You’re hopeless. She’s into you, Dex. And honestly? I think she’s kind of awesome. She’s smart, funny, and she’s got this great thing where she acts like an airhead just to see your face do that confused frown thing. It’s hilarious.”

Dexter’s frown deepened. “She does that on purpose?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Seriously, ask her out before she gets bored and moves on to someone who actually knows how to crack a smile.”

Weeks passed, and to Deb’s disdain, Dexter completely ignored her amazing advice. But she wasn’t one to sit idly by and she had had enough.

One afternoon, as you were bent over a microscope in the lab, Deb stormed in with an unyielding grip on Dexter’s arm.

“Hey, YN!” she said, her voice unnaturally cheerful.

“Uh… hey, Deb. What’s going on?”

She didn’t waste any time, her hold on Dexter's arm tightening as she shoved him into the room.

“Dexter has something he wants to ask you,” she announced, crossing her arms and giving Dexter an expectant look.

Fiddling with the pen in your hand, your eyes darted warily to Dexter, not really sure what was going on. And from the looks of it, Dexter didn’t know either. He looked genuinely confused, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words, but nothing came out.

“Uh…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Deb groaned. “He wants to take you out. On a date. There. It’s done. The cat’s out of the bag.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. A warmth surged through you, a small flicker of happiness bubbling up, but then you saw the horrified look on Dexter’s face, and it fizzled just as quickly. You turned back to Deb.

“Wow, Debra. I didn’t know you moonlighted as a matchmaker.”

“I don’t. But someone has to get the ball rolling.”

“And the first step is holding someone hostage?”

“Hosta– are you fucking kidding me?” She turned to her brother, jabbing a finger into his ribs, making him flinch. “Dexter, tell her!”

But before he could say a word, you got up from your chair and headed for the door.

“I appreciate the effort, Deb, but can we discuss this later? I need to bring these to Louis before he has a meltdown.”

“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Deb said as she watched you leave.

“I’d rather not,” you quipped with a smirk, closing the door behind you.

But maybe Deb had a point.

Maybe he should ask you out.

It had been a while since he’d had a girlfriend, and perhaps it was time to change that. Saying no to you outright might be suspicious, and blending in was a cornerstone of his life. Besides, you weren’t so bad. Being around you wasn’t unpleasant. It made sense.

That's actually what he said when he finally asked you out: it makes sense. No fumbling over words or overly rehearsed lines. And you actually liked his reasoning. It was honest in its own way and you appreciated the lack of pretense.

That was one thing you’d learned about Dexter during your time at Miami Metro: he liked a logical approach, unlike most people who responded to emotion, whose actions were driven by feelings. He felt things, sure, just not in the same way, and he rarely expressed them outwardly.

It wasn’t like you were absolutely positive that it could turn into something meaningful or that a relationship with Dexter would last, but his way of interacting with the world was so unconventional that you simply felt drawn to it.

Dexter never really offered grand romantic gestures or gush over your presence in his life. But he noticed things you liked and made small accommodations for them. He listened with the intent to understand. And while he wasn’t exactly overflowing with emotion, you saw the quiet ways he cared.

You’d once mentioned in passing how receiving gifts made you uncomfortable, the pressure to perform gratitude leaving you uneasy. So when you joked that a specific brand of coffee was your lifeblood, he didn’t hand it to you wrapped in a bow. Instead, the next week, it simply appeared in the breakroom.

He wasn’t selfish about it, like most people were when they insisted on seeing your reaction. No, he just wanted to make you happy. And with that, he scored a double.

However, ever since you started going on dates, for the lack of a better word, because neither of you ever labeled it that way, he started second-guessing himself. He became more careful, often overthinking and calculating his answers. You suspected that Deb might have been partly to blame. She was too blunt sometimes, too quick to get into his head. But you made sure to let him know that he was more likely to scare you off by saying nothing rather than saying the wrong thing.

“You’re more confident about that than I am.”

You'd told him that he was the living embodiment of having a wall up. And not any wall. It was as if someone else had built it for him, and he was struggling to climb over it.

“You’re not even bad at climbing. You’re just trying to figure out where to put your hands.”

It was a strange way for your to put it, but you managed to create a whole think tank in his head which often left him with a dull ache between his eyes. He found himself admiring your honesty, the way you refused to put on a mask just to please the people around you or conform to societal expectations.

It’s not like you outright spilled your deepest, darkest secrets, but you gave him glimpses. You hinted at your own traumas that had shaped you, so matter-of-fact and so human.

It stirred something within him. For days, he debated whether to share his own scars, until he finally did, one night during a quiet walk along the beach. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his chest when he told you about his mother, the blood, the screams everything. Well, almost everything. He expected recoil, but it never came. You didn’t judge, it didn’t scare you away; you just looked at him with the same attentiveness, maybe a joke on your tongue about how that explained his line of work, because that's how you coped. And somehow, knowing he knew that made it easier for him to breathe.

And that night was also the night he kissed you for the first time. He didn’t plan for it. He just simply looked at you and the moonlight twinkling in your eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a different kind of urge. One he didn’t have to fight or wait to satisfy it. He let himself feel.

Later that evening, you also invited him to spend the night at your place.

He’d be lying if he said that he regretted a single second spent with you. Yeah, you never seemed to stop talking, never seemed to stop moving.

“It’s like you’re daring your neurons to keep up,” he’d said to you one day.

“Well, I need to keep my synaptic connections in shape, right?”

But still, you made the chaos seem… manageable. You were a walking paradox, bringing a strange sense of order to his life, a balance. He started to think that this was his final and definitive chance at happiness. And he wasn’t going to screw it up. Nobody was going to take you away from him. Nobody, and it was in his control.

Before you could discuss it further, the nurse came back with a new bandage.

“Your boyfriend, I presume?” she asked with a warm smile, glancing between the two of you. But Dexter barely looked at her, his focus was entirely on you.

“Was it him?” He tilted his head toward Louis, his voice low enough that only you could hear, but you saw the nurse make her way to you to apply the bandage.

“Not here,” you murmured, darting a glance toward Louis, who was still lingering near the door.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension, spoke up. “She’s going to be fine. The burn isn’t deep, and the cuts didn’t hit anything major. Could’ve been worse. You might’ve earned yourself a Nobel Prize for dedication to science, though.”

She smiled, and you saw Dexter’s lips twitch into a grimace that was supposed to look like a smile.

“What chemicals?” he asked.

“Phenol and chloroform mix,” you replied, and the nurse followed up.

“Not ideal for skin, but we got to it quickly. Keep the bandage clean and dry, and she’ll be good as new.”

“Thanks,” Dexter said shortly. Then, turning back to you, he added, “I’ll be right back.”

“Dex…” you began, knowing very well where his mind had taken him. And honestly, a part of you didn’t even want to stop him, because you wanted Louis to leave you alone.

“I said I'll be right back,” he repeated, his voice stern.

Dexter straightened to his full height and walked toward Louis, a predator closing in on its prey.

“So? How is she?” Louis asked as soon as Dexter approached him.

“How do you think, Louis? I suggest you stop fucking around or I’ll make your life really difficult.”

“What?” Louis laughed with faux confusion. “I was just trying to help.”

“Yeah, and I think you’ve done enough. You can leave now. And if I find out you had anything to do with this, anything at all, you’ll wish it was you sitting on that hospital bed. Do you understand?”

“Geez, Dexter, are you –”

Dexter took a step closer without raising suspicion from other people.

“I’m serious, Louis. Do you understand?”

Louis nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Louis turned on his heel, but before making his exit, he turned to Dexter one more time. “Well… Catch you at work.”

Dexter ground his teeth, closing his eyes as he tried to suppress his need to protect you from Louis right then and there. He’d started seeing crimson the moment you texted him about Louis taking you to the hospital. Now, it was spilling everywhere, the red taking over his body, causing it to shake and ring in his ears. He wanted to fucking kill him. Louis had been trying to provoke him for quite some time, but he just crossed a line. Nobody will ever hurt you without consequences.

“Are you okay?” A soft voice brought him back to the present, your hand lightly brushing over his back as you tried to comfort him, ground him.

“No. I think I’ll kill him.”

You snorted. “Okay, drama queen,” you said, and hooked your arm around his, making your way out of the hospital.

Dexter hadn’t said a word during the drive, not a single one.

He’d even turned on his marching music, which he rarely did when you were with him. That was a signal in itself. He was thinking. Hard.

Once you reached his apartment, he tossed his keys onto the counter with an unusual force, and without a word, he headed straight for the first aid kit.

“Dex, I just got it bandaged. You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I want to see for myself.”

You weren’t entirely sure if this had something to do with the whole I don’t trust nurses thing or just general paranoia, but you decided not to argue.

“I know this isn’t your fault, but you should’ve worn your coat,” he said, his voice almost shaking as he held back from lashing out.

“I know.”

Dexter gestured for you to sit on the couch, taking a seat himself on the low table in front of you. He gently reached for your hand and began unwrapping the bandage.

“Tell me what happened.”

You described the incident in detail, including your suspicions that Louis might have been involved. Dexter gave you that Kubrick stare as his jaw tightened at the mention of Louis’ name.

When he uncovered the burn ringed by shallow cuts, he muttered a quiet Jesus.

“Once it starts blistering, you can’t scratch it, okay? It could get infected.”

“Yes, doctor,” you teased lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s what the nurse said.”

It made his head twitch as he gave you a look. But he didn’t comment, instead gently placing your hand in his lap as he prepared a fresh bandage.

“Do you have any other samples left?” he asked, and it warmed your heart knowing that he cared about your lab work, too.

“Yeah, I should have some stored at the station,” you said. “Unless Louis decided to get rid of them too.”

“I’ll head back and check on them for you.”

“Well, I’m coming too. I need to get back to the lab, it’s not like I’m incapable of running the experiment again.”

That was a hard no. He didn't even have to think about it.

He didn’t like the idea of you being back at the lab, not when Louis was going to be there. But he also knew he couldn’t keep you away from the lab for long, so he needed to do this fast. He convinced you to stay at his place until the next day, at least. After all, you did feel tired from the burning pain and the pills that started to kick in. As Dexter stood to leave, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, before kissing you on the lips, anchoring himself to you before heading back to work. And to take care of Louis once and for all.

It was easy. Louis was obsessed with serial killers, but he still lacked the skillset Dexter’s usual victims challenged him with. Now, he was going to give him the full-time experience.

He broke into his apartment and waited until Louis got home. A sharp prick to the neck and strapping him to a chair. Not his usual routine, but this wasn’t really to satisfy his urges. This was to protect you.

Once he was all tied up, Dexter broke a capsule of smelling salt under his nose and Louis' eyes shot open. Dexter wasn’t going to waste much time here, but he brought something to make it more enjoyable for himself.

“Wakey-wakey,” Dexter’s voice broke through the fog of Louis’s confusion.

He blinked, before he started thrashing against the rope. “What the hell?!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice. “What is this?!”

Dexter stepped closer to him, a faint curl of a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. In his right hand, he held a bunch of vials filled with liquid.

“Do you know what chemical burn feels like, Louis?”

“What?” he asked, confused at first, but then it dawned on him. “Wait, wait, wait! I didn’t do anything! I was just looking out for her. A-Accidents happen! Labs are dangerous places if you’re not careful, you know that!” Louis rambled, making Dexter watch him with an amused smile.

“Accidents don’t usually involve sabotage,” Dexter said evenly.

“Sabotage? Jesus, Dexter, you're blowing this way out of proportion. You're doing all this for some chick? Does her pussy feel that good?"

Dexter lurched forward, his fist connecting with Louis's face before he could react, the chair creaking against the floor as it moved with Dexter's strength. He leaned down to Louis’ eye-level, pointing a finger at his face. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, his bloody face scrunching in fear.

“Don't push it, Louis,” he said through his teeth. Dexter was quick to recover, his calm mask slipping back into place. “Let's talk about the fact that accidents always seem to happen when you’re around.”

Louis coughed, spitting blood onto the plastic-covered floor.

“You’ve got a pretty vivid imagination.”

Dexter’s lips twitched. He rose to his full height and backed away just to put down one of the vials and take a piece of cloth instead. He poured the chemical on it as he talked.

“It’s called pattern recognition,” he said, coming around the chair to stand behind Louis. “You should be familiar with that by now.” And with that, he stuffed the wet rug into his mouth. Louis twitched and thrashed, but Dexter was stronger. He made sure the cloth didn’t fall out, that Louis got the exact taste of what you’d gone through.

“How is it, Louis? You have my full attention now! The only time I’m willing to listen to your bullshit!”

He tortured him some more, before pulling the cloth out. As soon as Louis’ mouth was free, he started coughing. Then, Dexter poured some of the prepared solution on his glove.

“Did I get the concentration right, or was it too strong?” Dexter asked, rubbing his covered fingers together, the rubber shining under the kitchen light. Louis’ breathing quickened.

“Please. I won’t go near her again. I swear!” Louis cried out.

Dexter leaned in close again, his face inches from Louis’.

“You’re right. You won’t.”

And without further explanation, he pressed the gloved hand against Louis’ arm, holding it there long enough for the sting to start. Before Louis’ scream got too loud, Dexter stuffed his mouth with the rug again as he writhed in pain, the burning sensation spreading.

“That’s just a fraction of what she felt. And you’re lucky I’m in a forgiving mood tonight. Otherwise, I would pour it right into your fucking eyes, your mouth, I would cut your skin open and fill it up before stitching it back together.” Dexter put his still wet hand on a different part of Louis’ arm, watching him squirm. “I would make you fucking drown in it.”

Dexter stepped back, watching Louis’ chest rise and fall with his heavy breathing, some tears sliding down his cheeks, mixing with his blood. Dexter closed his eyes, bathing in that satisfactory feeling as he breathed in, the smell of chemicals and sweat and fear tickling his nostrils. He made his way to the counter where his knives were splayed out, taking the sharpest one and making his way behind Louis again.

“Goodnight, Louis.”

And with that, he sliced his neck, blood spilling onto the plastic underneath the chair.

When he came home that night, he found you still on his couch. Safe and sound. Your bandaged arm rested on the book you were reading, and when you looked at him, you greeted him with that casual smile of yours.

It was so genuine, so automatic. Like it had been waiting just for him. He couldn’t let himself be the reason you’d ever lose it, couldn’t let his or anyone else's world dim yours.

Without saying a word, he approached you, pinched your chin between his fingers and tilted your head to kiss that smile, because he knew it would only make you grin wider, and that’s what he wanted. He was making a silent promise, to you and to himself, to keep it safe, because seeing you light up like that, illuminating his dark world was everything he needed. And he wanted it to last.

[wandixx]

Christmas in Mount Justice

cartoon version of Young Justice, written instead of sleeping and I'll be honest, I kinda run out of steam at the end, but it'd take me until next year if I didn't push through, so here it is, and hopefully it's not quite visible where I started pushing through it, I hope you'll enjoy

words: 4633

“Since, hopefully, this is the last time we're seeing each other before Christmas–” Black Canary announced, stretching after finished training“ I wish you all merry and healthy and boring Christmas” she finished with a wide warm smile. Danny barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. This goddamn worst time of the year. He checked once more if his mental shields were up. According to M'gann, ghosts were really loud on mind reading wavelengths so he needed to keep them up most of the time. He wasn't an asshole to drown his friend in absolute hatred of Christmas.

“You too Black Canary!” Wally yelled, running like the earth was burning to get cookies M'gann baked “By the way, what are your plans?” he asked upon his return.

Did they really have to keep talking about it? Danny was half considering just dropping through the floor to escape this conversation but chose against it because he really didn't want to answer all the questions it would cause or hear a ‘you can't deal with all unwanted conversations by escaping them’ lecture again any time soon. He could and he would, the Freakshow incident was just one way to prove it.

“B and I have to attend some stuffy rich people party” Robin said with clear displeasure “I still need to plan what mess to stir there. Chandeliers swinging are banned and so is arson so I have to get creative.”

“You actually set something on fire?! That's sick as hell!” the speedster's enthusiasm didn't waver as he threw a few cookies at Danny. It was nice that someone remembered about Danny's slightly enhanced metabolism. They (both Young Justice and Amity squad) still didn't understand it completely but the working hypothesis was that he needed to eat more to make up for ectoplasm he couldn't consume in quantities big enough for his ghost side since it was poisonous to humans and he had to dose it carefully. Being a halfa was rough like that some(most)times. 

“Well, lighter is easy to sneak inside–” Robin explained and honestly Danny never expected to hear Gotham’s feared vigilante go over logistics of arson but he guessed it was his life now, he could use this info to do something about at least one Christmas tree in Amity or share it with Sam. She mentioned some upcoming rich people party too”–and amount of alcohol there is astonishing, really you'd think that people would try to stay sober on event like that but apparently–”

“I'm having dinner with my mom and some family friends–” Artemis interrupted “Can't wait spend God knows how many hours with all of them talking over each other and asking awkward questions” she tried to sound displeased but there was no way she could hide her fondness and wasn't that a wild thing to see. Seriously, he almost choked on a cookie. In theory Danny knew some people genuinely liked Christmes but–

Just like that? Just happy to–

Yeah, he knew but couldn't quite comprehend. Sam was exactly like that, found but trying to seem annoyed to keep up with her goth persona. Tucker was way more open about his delight.

For Danny Christmas was only too loud because everyone was singing badly and too bright because of lights and too stuffy and there was this damned argument about Santa and yelling and fe–

“Oh, me too! We also planned a movie night with Central Rogues, this time it's Cold’s turn. I wish he won't pick Die Hard again…”

Well, Danny guessed movie night with Rogues, that clearly meant an off evening since they wouldn't try to stir things up while watching the movie, sounded like a really nice idea. Personally he would do without people who try to turn him into a pulp every other day but apparently things worked differently in Central.

“King Orin wanted to introduce me to some surface celebrations as well,” Kaldur said with a warm smile and halfa forcefully stopped himself from giving their leader a weird look. Even him?! Betrayal, absolute betrayal! 

“Well, I don't really celebrate so I'm staying here, maybe training a bit, I'm not sure yet,” M'gann announced shyly and it took all his willpower to not hug her for being the only sensible person in the room.

“Yeah, I'm staying too. Apparently I'm not invited to family gatherings” Conner added bitterly. 

“Honestly your not missing much,” Danny muttered “It's just perfectly prepared and measured argument breeding space, believe me”

Wally tried to protest but one pointed glare and it dissolved through power of ‘don't make Conner feel about it any worse than he already does’. Danny felt a little guilty for using it to sooth his own hatred towards Christmas but not too much. He really wanted to reassure his friend and ways he went about it were no one else's business. 

“And what are your plans, Danny?” M'gann asked gently after he didn't continue. He really wished he didn't have to answer but keeping his emotions hidden meant nobody could see that something was up and say ‘you don't have to tell if you don't want to’ or other shit like that.

“Not sure yet. I think I will crash with you here honestly. If we believe this magic book we found, there is a Christmas truce in Zone, so there shouldn't be any ghost attacks and your company is always great,” he smiled sincerely.

“Wouldn't your parents ask questions if you just skipped Christmas, though?” Wally asked a bit cautiously but Danny waved his concern off with a vague ‘eh’ sound.

“Will you show us some Christmas traditions then? As a part of ‘earthly traditions’ course?” M'gann's eyes almost shone with excitement and Conner looked hopeful and it made him feel conflicted. The whole point of crashing in Mount Justice with two aliens was to not touch anything Christmas related with thirty feet long stick but alas M'gann asked nicely and was pretty. These were two big ideals fighting inside of him then and there while he tried to keep his face and outer mind blank enough to not bring any suspicion.

Betrayal to second, no third, power! He wanted to escape this hell of an experience! 

But well, he could shape the experience in a way that's the least painful and M'gann and Conner were really great friends…

“Sure”

He couldn't quite match her enthusiastic grin or even Conner’s bit smaller one.

He was going to regret it, wouldn't he?

***

“Guys, I messed up so bad…” Danny whined,  curling on Sam's enormous bed covered in fluffy blankets and nice pillows.

“What did you do this time?” girl asked with a smirk. Halfa was sometimes mad how well his friends knew him and didn't take his dramatics as seriously as he would like to.

“I wanted to have a sleepover at Team's HQ during Christmas, you know, to escape it. Only ones who will stay are Miss Martian and Superboy, aliens, so I thought it's a good idea. And then they asked me to show them ‘earthly Christmas traditions’ and I AGREED!” he yelled, his hands flying dramatically at the confession.

His friends, little traitors they were, just laughed.

He came to get some help, advice on either doing this introduction well because Danny Fenton was known for a lot of things but half-assing projects he agreed to do wasn't one of them (homework was obligatory without his consents ergo didn't count) or gracefully getting away from mess his idiocy brought onto him, not to be laughed at! He had enough of it at other times.

Though they got to work when they calmed down, making Danny revisit the idea of not talking to them ever again and throwing it out of the window.

“Alright,” Tucker started, preparing his note and planner apps before continuing “what do you want to show them? Gingerbread house?”

“Of course” Danny huffed because as much as he hated Christmas and its traditions, gingerbread house was decent one. Making one at Tucker's place three years ago when he had been introduced to the idea was one of his best memories related to the holiday. Even though it was cut short by trip to the ER because dumbass little Danny had wanted a little gingerbread man he set aside and he had eaten him still all fresh and 350°F hot and got severe burns in his mouth and throat because apparently his instinctual response to burning in his mouth was to swallow instead of to spit.

“Gifts.” Sam raised in a way that meant she was not taking any complaints and Danny didn't really want to argue. His track record with gifts from his parents wasn't too good ever since he had a brief just-like-dad phase and they didn't realize it ended after a month but other people knew how to fix it. The Voyager Lego set he got from Sam the year before still made him smile when his eyes landed on it. 

Tucker noted it down. “What else? Christmas tree?”

Danny winced but nodded. He wasn't too fond of it but it was too big to miss it.

“Ugly sweaters?”

“Superboy would actually develop laser vision if I tried it”

“Movie marathon? I can lend you some DvDs”

“Yeah, it's probably a good idea. Kid Flash mentioned it too.”

“Santa Claus?” Sam asked with a smirk and Danny threw a pillow at her.

“Who is Santa Claus? I never heard of him, must be a Rhode Island thing” he answered with a straight face, not knowing how many times he will have to repeat it.

**

Phantom: hey guys!

Phantom: want a Crisscross Christmas

Phantom: ?

Artemis: The what?

Phantom: oh, you know

Phantom: this thing were we draw aech othres names anf have to buy a gift

Kid Flash: you mena Secret Santa

Kid Flash: ???

Phantom: never heard of that

Phantom: thats a wierd naem

Phantom: but if rules match, call it whatever yoyu wnat

Aqualad: I like this idea

Robin: GIft drop-off on 27th is okay for everyone?

7 people liked this message

Robin: i take that for yes. 50$ budget?

Kid Flash: Robin, Rob, Bob, my best pal. I have 5$ and single slice of bubblegum to my name rn

Kid Flash: No, actually no bubblegum anymore

Kid Flash: 10$ is top I could spend

Phantom: Same

Artemis: Same

Aqualad: Me too

Miss Martian: I'm not sure if me and Superboy have any money, actually

Phantom: See Rob?

Phantom: just be a good samamritanina and give them 10$ instead og flaunting batmans money

***

"Important question. How do one pick a present?"

"You know, it's good if it's something personal, either in a way that it's something they want or need, a gag gift that'd be funny for both of you, or just something that made you think of them"

"Yeah, yeah, I read the mom blogs, none of this actually helps, what am I supposed to get for Artemis?!"

***

"Alright, so. I have a list of things I think you need to learn about Christmas. We're kinda late to the party, so I cut off some stuff because there is no way we would make it in time."

"Sounds about right, what do we start with?"

"Most classic of classics, the Christmas tree, Batman already greenlit it, so it's waiting outside"

***

"So, Christmas tree is evergreen plant, conifer, sometimes only branch or synthetically made model, that, if living, is cut down from Christmas tree nursery, and then put inside the house, usually in the living room or other space that is considered repre-"

"Danny, we live in society, we have basic knowledge on American traditions that is literally everywhere. We don't need it to be spoon fed to us in a voice more robotic way than Red Tornado, literal robot"

"Conner!"

"What?! I'm not wrong"

"Sorry. Let's get to decorating then?"

"If you want to ramble, we'd be more than happy to listen. It's obvious that you took a lot of care to learn everything."

"Speak for yourself"

"Conner!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, with what exactly do we plan to decorate it?"

"Oh, this one is easy. I asked around people to donate some stuff, and Batman got us few things after I asked for permission for the tree. He even asked Justice League to drop us some things too."

"That's nice of them"

"Yeah, though I'm a bit worried about gifts from Arrows and Robin, y'know. They all had this type of smile that means either a gag idea, merch or exploding glitter and I'm not sure which option scares me the most"

"Glitter"

"Glitter"

"Yeah, you're right"

***

"Did… um… did Superman bring anything?"

"Yes, actually! He brought pretty big box of stuff and mentioned dropping of some food for Christmas in the morning or the afternoon of the first day. He said he was happy that you got the experience even if he isn't able to be the one to give it to you. I think he is coming around"

It was an interesting thing about Danny. He wasn't all that good with authority figures or frankly adults in general, and he never passed on the chance to tear in Superman for his treatment of Conner, if he saw the man, but in private he was surprisingly pro-Superman and tried to make them "see his perspective" with some pretty convincing arguments. Everyone else was still unimpressed but Danny never gave up.

M'gann still wasn't sure if in these circumstances she found it cute or annoying.

"Bullshit"

"If that's what you want to believe in"

***

"Oh, hello Megan! Red Tornado, would you like to join us in decorating the Christmas tree?"

"This… seems like a decent idea. What is the procedure of it?"

"We already put on the lights, so now we're placing baubles and other hanging decorations, before we finish off with paper chains and these fuzzy boas. We need them evenly spread out on all of the tree, preferably in a way, that things in similar colors aren't right next to each other, alright?"

"Yes, Phantom, instructions are clear"

"Great. Do we want some music in the background? My friends usually play some Christmas songs to get us all in 'the right mood' as he calls it?"

"Good idea, I'll play something."

"Thanks Meg"

"Just hear the sleigh bell jingling…"

"Is this… yeah, it's Carpenters, it's Jazz's favo- oh shit"

"Got it!"

"Nice catch Conner! Red Tornado, sorry I didn't clarify before, we're not decorating the side by the wall."

"Understood"

***

"We have only one last thing left then"

"Yeah?"

"The star at the top. The youngest child of the family usually get the honor. Conner, it's you time to shine~"

"Shut up already"

"How is he supposed to reach the top though? He can't fly"

"Step stool or someone has to hold him up lion king style"

"Lion king- Don't you dare! Keep those hands to yourself! Danny!

***

"So, what's next on your magical list?"

"Gingerbread house. It's a moment for you to shine Meg, because I'm absolute mess in the kitchen and I don't think Conner is much better"

"Actually-"

"blah, blah, blah, absolutely perfect, could be hired at Michelin star restaurant right this instant blah, blah, blah"

"Oh, you little-"

"I believe the arguments are supposed to start at the Christmas table and not before. It seemed to be consensus in my sources. Was I mistaken?"

Conner stopped dead in his tracks, as confused as M'gann at the question.

Danny laughed so hard he fell on the ground.

"Red Tornado, what does that mean?"

"There is no need to spread misinformation until we can get confirmation whether my sources were correct or not"

"Danny? Danny?! What does he mean?! Why are you laughing?!"

Danny just stayed curled on the floor, almost wheezing.

***

"So, we have all of the ingredients, right? Flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves-"

"I think it's still in the cabinet, let me grab it real quick"

"Alright, other than cloves, do we have salt, vegetable shortening, granulated sugar, molasses, an egg- I mean, applesauce? Yeah? Let's hope it'll work. Okay, I think were ready"

"Ginger?"

"What?"

"Do we have ginger ready?"

"I don't think so, I'm pretty sure we've run out about a week ago? Why- oh wait"

"Did we seriously forgot to get ginger to make The Gingerbread House?! It's literally in the name!"

They all just stood in silence for a long moment.

"We're idiots"

"Well said, well said"

"I believe there are better names to describe you in this situation. Unfortunately, I cannot recall them"

"Thanks Red Tornado, that was helpful"

"Maybe we can still buy it?"

"It's 10:34 PM, December 23rd, M'gann, what shop would even be open?"

"Shut up Conner, it's actually not a bad idea. I think I've seen- yes, there is something open until eleven, about five minutes out if I fly"

***

"There was no ginger at the shop, but I got cranberry for later, if needed, and some chips to snack on"

"It's fine, we found unopened pack of powdered ginger in the back of the cabinet"

"That's great! Give me a minute to return this packet I liberated on my way home?"

"Danny!"

***

"Hey, M'gann!"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to invite your uncle to our dinner?"

"That's a great idea Conner, thank you!"

***

"Okay, wait, wait, wait, before you two get weirdly aggressive about it again-"

"We're not that aggressive and it's a serious matter"

"I don't have any ghosts to get of my misplaced aggression out on so I'm funneling it into cake decorating instead"

"M'gann, you literally are trying to choke him right now, Danny, even I know it's concerning and I have less than half a year of learning what is considered normal under my belt. Anyway, before you escalate it again, how about each one of us gets one side of the house and then we work in pairs on the roof?"

"I like that"

"But what about aesthetic integrity!"

"It's quite literally against the point of gingerbread house"

***

"Before we go to sleep, I believe it's a widespread tradition to leave milk and cookies for the Santa Claus on the Christmas Eve evening"

"Huh"

"What is it this time?"

"Nothing really, chill out Conner, I just never heard of that"

It was so clearly a lie it probably couldn't even be called that, but at this point everyone realized, that for some reason bearded man in red was a sore subject, and they stopped trying to learn why. Maybe some day he'd tell them.

***

"Sorry. This person is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Hey Dani, it's Danny. Merry Christmas, please let me know when you get that. I'm celebrating outside of home, safe, with some friends, so if you want, I can give you an address and you can drop by. They're all more than okay with ghost stuff and have a history of accepting someone similar to you without any questions. I'm sure they'd love you. Let me know you're alright and if you want to join us. Sorry I keep calling, I'm at the worrywart stage. Love you, please stay safe."

Danny was doing pretty well with this whole "organizing Christmas". Really. M'gann did kick him out to breathe a bit of fresh air (and wait for the Superman and food he was supposed to bring in) because his hands were shaking too much, but other than that he was fine. Really. He was getting a bit panicky because he didn't hear a word from his sister in the past week and usually she let them know if she knew she would go somewhere where that could happen but she just as often didn't because she spontaneously decided to do something else. Trackers they made her wear showed she was fine.

It didn't really help, he wasn't sure if there was anything less than actually hearing or preferably seeing her that could reassure him.

It wasn't even talking about all of the trouble that was a bit closer to home, because Christmas never meant anything good for him, with or without his parents stirring up the Santa-fight. They weren't there and yet, he still couldn't make himself believe it could be any better this time. For Ancients sake, he made sure there was no Santa Claus in whole Mountain, nothing to remind him of how it always was and his brain still decided to be stupid about it.

So now he was standing in thin hoodie out in Rhode Island winter, in hopes that cold would shock him out of spiraling, trying to keep his breaths even and not fly away because it felt all like a little too much at the moment. he was standing in thin hoodie out in Rhode Island winter, waiting for a man who would awkwardly try to do the whole 'I'm an adult you can trust' routine and then treat him like messenger pigeon to contact the child that actually wanted and needed him. He couldn't entirely blame him but-

"Are you quite alright?"

"I'm fine"

"Are you sure? It's quite cold to be dressed like this and your heartbeat is quite erratic."

"I'm fine as old wine Superman, please say your piece before someone comes to see what took me so long"

"Danny-"

"I'm serious. Leave it alone and just give me the food"

Superman looked a bit conflicted, clearly considering all of the potential pros and cons of digging in further and choose wrong.

"You're worried about Dani"

"You're the last person I want to talk to about her," Danny spat out, anxiety quickly turning into anger.

"Of course, but-"

"Have two civil conversations with your clone before trying to tell me how I should handle mine" As soon as these words left his mouth, Danny regretted them, if only a little, but he kept pushing "I told you about her to explain why I'm willing to vouch for you. It doesn't make you someone I'll confide in. It doesn't make you someone I trust. It doesn't make me approve of the way your handling it. It just means I understand. But you're an adult man and experienced hero with stable job and adult shit figured out and I'm a teenager with home just safe enough for me to stay and family that'd question how third child just showed up. We are not the same."

Superman flinched away at some point during the rant, looking properly humbled. He avoided eye contact and just reached forward to pass him hard plastic case filled with food containers and smaller boxes wrapped up in nice Christmas themed paper.

"Alright kiddo. Get it inside before you turn into a icicle. And tell Conner I wish him Merry Christmas, alright? I mean, I wish it to everyone but…"

Damn, if the "never meet your heroes" person wasn't right.

"You're a coward Superman. Come in and tell him that yourself"

***

Conner lashed out, as expected, but it was far more subdued than it would be just few month before. To his credit, Superman stayed the whole time it went down and only left when boy mostly calmed down and wouldn't feel like he was being ignored. Man even tried to respond to some allegations, though he wasn't really heard. Conner ranted some more after hero left, but overall it went better than Danny thought it would.

Then they had dinner, which went… surprisingly well. Apparently, not having to worry about being attacked by the main dish did wonders to Danny's overall jitters (and didn't everyone get super weird when he mentioned it). Not having people start nonsensical fights also helped. He knew better than to mention that.

Also, turns out that Superman or whoever he got to make them food was freaking amazing cook, thank you very much. Danny wasn't necessarily fasting, not in a way he knew some people did in the period preceding Christmas or at least on Christmas Eve, but the tension of past few days made it hard to eat a lot. It definitely lessened now that the thing was happening and seemingly going well, so he was absolutely ravenous. To be completely honest, as far as he could tell, everyone else matched his enthusiasm.

There was a bit off moment at the beginning, when Martian Manhunter asked him if he shouldn't be with his family during holidays, but Danny quickly and subtly brushed it off and nobody mentioned that afterwards.

He may have overeaten, actually, for once in his live, which he may regret in the morning, but at the moment, it made him quite content.

Then came the gifts, which also went better than he expected. For once there was no need to act like he enjoyed the gift despite already planning on how to get rid of it. Even better, focus was almost fully removed from him, obviously, because it wasn't his first rodeo.

Conner looked so lost and confused with the gift he got from Superman's mom, it was almost heartbreaking. It was beautiful crocheted scarf, black and red, with his symbol on each end, and an apology note explaining that Mrs Martha Kent would give him something more note worthy but she learned about him way to late to make something better. There was also promise of more worthy gift in near future. Danny knew all that because Conner read it out loud, asking everyone to help him make sense of that. There was only so much they could do.

Other than that, he got some nice flannel shirts from M'gann, quite a few sweets. He also got a book from Danny (it was a sin he didn't read "The Martian" before) and concepts of new hero suits for him, that Sam somehow sneaked between the pages. It was certainly a lot to explain without making anyone angry.

M'gann got two different cook books, that unfortunately didn't include Fenton fudge recipe (Dad was really protective over it), some surprisingly obscure merch from "Hello Megan" and more sweets.

Red Tornado got an apron and few tokens of appreciation, that robot quite liked, as far as Danny could tell.

Martian Manhuter, due to how rarely he visited, was the hardest to pick presents for, which resulted in some general little trinkets.

Danny got night sky projector, which was really cool, and potted plant, for some reason, which, while also cool, because plants are cool (Sam would rekill him if he thought otherwise), he knew far too well, would not survive until July. It wasn't only because he could barely take care of himself, let alone whole ass plant (see also, that one time he either drowned or dried three cacti), but also because of the times ghosts (or home security) attacked him in his room. He was thankful anyway. Maybe it could push him into finally getting some contingencies against that, that’d actually work. After all, it was quite a pretty plant.

By the time they moved to the couch to watch “Die Hard” of all things (it was only DVD that Tucker provided that didn’t have Santa Claus as a prominent character, because of course that little traitor would do that), Danny had to admit that this Christmas was… nice. Enjoyable. Pretty amazing actually. Good enough that he could understand people waiting for it the whole year. He couldn’t tell that he joined their ranks, but he certainly could understand them.

It was also downright exhausting and at some point even dynamic fights of John McClane couldn’t keep his eyes open. It was fine though. He was safe, he was warm, almost squeezed against his friends. It was good place to just relax.

It’s been first time in a long time since he felt that on Christmas.

********

I'm not sure if I managed to properly Conner's... whole thing, if he turned out too hostile, let's just say he was still pissed about the whole "wasn't invited to Clark's family gathering" thing and it made him a bit more antsy.

I'm not sure how well I managed to handle it, but I don't want to bash neither Clark nor Conner. They're both victims in this situation and while the way Clark handled it was far from ideal, it's also far from worst he could do and I believe he deserves a bit more grace. In the end, on psychological level he is just human and humans don't always handle being baby trapped perfectly. Maybe I have more understanding towards him because my prefered way of handling conflicts is walking out and locking myself in my room, but idk. Maybe I'm capable of more coherent explanation when it's not 3:44 AM

Ginger shenanigans were inspired by my own Christmas preparation adventures, when I was making bread dough for the Christmas Eve and decided to add rosemary to make it more ✨festive✨ and got really attached to the idea. My mom agreed, then it turned out we didn't have any, then I went to the shop like twenty minutes before it closed at 11PM so at least one guy was there to replenish his alcohol suplies. My mom called to tell me to also buy some powdered garlic and beetroot. Turned out we had rosemary at home. At shop I only found garlic. I also brought energy drink, because I was tired but had more stuff to do and some snacks just because.

Bread turned out pretty good.

I sincerely believe if I was solely responsible of making gingerbread, I would forget to get ginger (or like, to fit with "it's in the name" thing, pepper, because in Polish it's "piernik")

I'm really sorry if the drop in quality by the end is noticable, if this thing stayed unfinished whole another year i'd do something I'd regret later.

[shurisneakers]

“i know we almost died just now, but… am i the only one who’s hungry?” is so harmless reader core… but what if it was Bucky saying this?

Also hi i love u

hi <3 hey <3 i love u too <3 harmless turns 4 years old next year she's like in school now

Catch up with the rest of the series here!

"Great job, team," you pant, raising your hand for a high five. "I think that was very well handled."

Bucky, still trying to process what exactly the fuck just went down, does not even respond when you match his indifference, dropping your hand to slap it against his.

"Is that how it always goes?" you ask him, looking around the empty lot. "I figured there'd be a lot more zing, y'know? Some oomph. That was like, fine."

The mission was going fine, calm even, until you managed to piss them off, leading to them calling in backup, leading to you both being severely outnumbered, leading to you deciding you'd gotten bored which finally lead to you ending it with a timeout-inator.

Things had exploded, Bucky had to pull down a door to shield you both-- it was a whole thing that he definitely did not mentally prepare for. This was just supposed to be a simple data extraction. He doesn't know at which point nuclear guns got involved.

"How--" Bucky stops mid-sentence, brain scrambling to put together things, "--how did you get assigned on this mission again?"

It wasn't like he claimed to be the expert on all things SHIELD, but he figured that a non-Avenger, non-agent needed a lot of clearance to be allowed on a mission, no matter how mundane the initial objective was. The fact that it devolved into madness was more on you than SHIELD.

"I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet," you explain, smoothing out your singed clothes.

"The what?"

"Fine, you caught me," you give in without even trying, dusting some ash off his shoulder. "I forged my name on some documents, used some white paint. Did an ol' switcharoo. You know how it goes."

"You faked your way here?" he shouts, dropping the damn door he was still holding. "What the hell was your plan?"

"Why does everything need a plan? Why can't I just tag along to see what you do for a living?"

"We nearly got killed. You--"

"But we didn't."

"That is not the point. You said it was a special mission, you said you had clearance from Nick to--"

"I said Nick would give me clearance for anything. And it is a special mission. I'm here, isn't that the specialest gift of all?"

"You didn't ask?" he screeches instead. "How did you get here? Who the fuck was supposed to be here in your place?"

"Clint," you say with a sheepish smile. "He told me he'd wash my garage so we swapped."

That fucking moron. "He'd wash your garage in exchange for you risking your life--"

"I didn't risk anything." You scoff. "I knew we would handle that like champs."

"We nearly got annihilated by a nuclear gun." He drags a hand down his face. "If he didn't trip over your stupid jacket in the last second, we would be dust."

"Well yeah, only if you put it like that," you relent. Bucky glares at you.

You look out at the empty room, one hand on your hip. Lot of rubble and shrapnel in places they had no reason being.

"Huh," you say after a while. "Guess we did just almost die."

"That's it?" he raves, still incredulous. "That's all you have to say?"

"That's crazy-sauce, man," you add, throwing your hands up when he glares at you. "What? What else should I be saying?"

"Where the fuck did you send them?" Bucky finally makes a move, wiping the dirt off his metal fingers onto his cargo pants.

"I put them in timeout," you reply, tapping the gun you'd put back into he pocket of your pants.

"Where is timeout?"

"Like, somewhere outside of time," you dismiss. "Time-out. You get it."

His eyes clench shut, taking a deep inhale in before exhaling, lest he pop a blood vessel.

"We almost died," he tells you again.

"If you say so," you nod.

He stares at you.

You stare right back at him.

The world keeps spinning.

"I'm hungry," he grumbles. "You want lunch?"

"I could go for a sandwich, yeah."

[tinylilacbun]

rafe involuntarily regresses and doesn't know it ‧₊˚ ┊

You are just about to finish your skincare routine when you see your phone light up, wiping your hands on a towel before picking it up, smiling at seeing that its a message from Rafe.

A frown spreads on your face, reading that you both couldn't meet up today because something came up.

Weird. It's unlike him to abruptly cancel your plans since he always looks forward to every second he gets to spend with you, so you're a little concerned that something might be wrong.

He has been under a lot of stress lately, to which he just replied that it's just because of Sarah acting up or some shit, but you know better.

That's how you're now making your short way to Tannyhill, luckily living a few houses away from your boyfriend.

As you round the corner you stop when you hear a familiar voice shouting.

"Please! Sarah, please don't leave, okay?" Rafe calls out desperately, continuing when Sarah stops her bicycle. "Dad's gone. And now it's just...it's you, me, and Wheezie."

"What's the point, Rafe?" Sarah sniffles, trying to keep up a tough facade.

You watch as he approaches to stand in front of her, not being able to make out what they're saying and shocked by what you just heard, Ward is gone?

After a while Sarah simply drives past him and he lifts his hands to fist his hair in frustration, turning to watch his sister leave he catches you standing a few feet away, his hands falling back to his sides.

Walking over to him you see a single tear rolling down his face, picking up your pace you embrace him just in time for him to break down.

He loosely wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your neck and his body trembling slightly as he cries, finally letting out all the pent up emotions he kept sealed for the past weeks.

"He's gone...he-" He chokes on his own words and you shush him softly.

"I'm here, I got you..." You assure him, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "C'mon, let's go inside. Tell me what happened."

Soon you're both cuddled up on his bed. Rafe laying on top of you, using your chest as a pillow while you run a hand through his hair to soothe him as he sniffles, his hands holding onto you for dear life.

"If I wouldn't have...I could have saved him I-" He keeps on rambling over and over again, blaming himself for his father's death.

You sigh heavily, on one side you obviously feel bad for him, not wanting to see the person you love so much pain.

On the other side you can't help but feel a tinge of frustration at how much Rafe cares for his father who didn't even wanted to acknowledge the fact that his son needed help even after he himself told him that he's not well.

He doesn't need to be all big and independent in your eyes. He should get to have someone that listens to him and help him fight his demons, not push him away and tell him to 'man up'.

"You're not alone, baby...I'm here for you, always." You hum, your nails softly scratching the back of his head to the nape of his neck, pressing a kiss to his hair.

He adjusts his position to be able to look up at you with glassy eyes, the tiniest pout on his face as he blinks at you. "M'scared..."

"Scared? Of what?" You ask, your voice soft and like balm to his soul.

"This- This feelin'." He mumbles, his grip on your shirt tightening momentarily. "I jus'...feel so small? I dunno, you make me feel safe and- and taken care of."

Your eyes widen a tad, your hands not stopping their comforting gestures. You've noticed for a while that Rafe seems to slip into some kind of subspace? But not exactly what you would expect.

His speech slurs and he won't let go of you, not even for longer than a minute, almost whimpering when you would pull away.

He reminds you of this sweet little boy he was when you both were younger and playing or fooling around in figure eight.

"It's okay, don't worry about anything right now. Just relax." You smile at him, cupping his cheek with your hand, caressing his cheek with your thumb as he nuzzles more against you, craving your comfort.

Whatever this is he seems to slip into, you're there for him, always. You love Rafe with your whole heart and would do anything to make him feel cared for.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafenroostersgirl

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[renren-006]

Emporor Lucius | Lucius Verus x fem reader

plot: old friends and Lucius coming back into your life as the emperor after being a gladiator. (has a tad bit of similar plot to my other story)

a/n: i wanted another old freinds to lovers story so here it is! please enjoy! let me know of any other story ideas! also thank you so much for the love on my first lucius story> Familiar eyes

The halls of the emperors glowed in the sunlight. They came through the windows and open archways, spilling golden rays onto the marble flooring. Lucius walked the halls like he had done for the past few days, bathing in the light and the revelations of power. He never wanted to be here again, in this position, yet here he was. The events after his fight in Rime and the killing of Macranis led to the people wanting him in power to have a slower position of power in the senate. The issues with the Senate were evident, and Lucius had to fix them before he could trust the people. 

His head hung low as he walked towards those inner gardens. He watched from the corner of the open room as you strolled in. You were doing your duties like you had for the last 20 years, tending to the gardens and animals and small, tedious things that needed care. You knew a new emperor was in the place now, but you had not met him. Lucius purposefully kept it that way once he knew you were still where he had left you. Your life had always been to serve, and Lucious was just happy you had not been harmed. You had the same spirit and carefree smile as he remembered. He left before you could even see his shadow.

You turned once you heard the shuffling of feet, yet Lucius had already gone. The other maids and servants in the palace didn't speak of the new emperor, leaving you wondering who exactly roamed these halls. Since childhood, you had seen many people come and go from these halls; this time, you hoped whoever it was had a kind soul. Those days of your youth were always filled with smiles, running around these exact gardens and through the halls playing with the prince of Rome. How far off those memories felt now, a feeling of emptiness surrounded you again, the suffocating feeling of knowing you'll never be that child and that boy won't be the cause of your smiles anymore. You stood fast, breathing slowly. “Damn you, Lucius,” you spoke before you grabbed your things and left to do another job far from the gardens. 

Lucius plans to prevent you from working for a few weeks, but he can't control everything. It was another day of him roaming the halls and venturing into the gardens. However, this time, you had become more aware of the presence of someone while you were there. As you tended to the flowers in the center bed, you spoke up.

“You know it is creepy to stand in the shadow and watch a girl work,” you said to the air. You waited a while before he stepped further into the room.

“My apologies,” he spoke. The words he said sent shivers down your spine; the embers of something familiar filled your stomach. You turned slowly to see a man standing in a white tunic and many Roman emblems adorning his chest.

“I did not realize you were the emperor,” you said, shocked. “I should not have spoken the way I did”

“No, you had a right I was…I have been standing in these dark corners while you work,” he told you honestly, “Only fair you figured it out”

“Still, I spoke rather harshly,” you told him. As he ventured further into the room, you stood slightly, realizing there was a slight height difference between the two of you. While the revelation was fleeting, one of the most essential things caught your eye. Those eyes that looked towards you stuck another ember of familiarity. “I…have I met you before?”

“You always were too smart for your own good,” he said, laughing a little. “Me and my theatrics of keeping out of your way were pointless if you were to realize who I was anyways”

“You can not be,” you said, walking closer to the man before you. “Lucius?” “Hello, my darling,” he answered. Tears were fast to fall from your eyes as you threw yourself into his arms. The man you thought was dead stood here in your presence once more. Older, wiser, and more handsome than that little boy you knew. 

“Your back,” you said in his arms. He held you close, letting you hold him. You pulled back and looked up at him. “And you grew”

“That was the first thing you noticed?” “No,” you answered horribly. Lucius laughed, knowing you were lying. He nodded his head and stood tall for you. “I can not believe you came back”

“Not my original plan…” he told you, “Had other plans to leave Rome, but it seems I am needed.”

“Hm. Guess we all dream of leaving at one point or another,” you told him. “That was you, right? The gladiator that caused a stir from the people?” “Guilty,” he spoke, “I am like my father in that way.” “Seems your wish of finding out who your father was came true…Maximus," Lucius humped while looking towards the sky above you. You looked u,p seeing some clouds rolling in. “Let us head inside”

Those following weeks or months were filled with Lucius joining you in your morning routine of tending to the garden. Always brings a new story of his life away to tell you, filling your time in the garden with a magical life. Some stories were sad, but you knew he did what he could to tell them to overcome the grief. Lucius found a way to make your simple life filled with life and meaning. He sparked those embers in you that you desperately hoped could be fueled. You looked forward to those moments spent with him, making your day go by and making you excited for the next day to see him again. As more and more time went by, Lucius joined you for other tasks. It was joyous having him around, but sometimes you forgot about your job in favor of admiring the man before you and listening to whatever story about himself or Rome he was telling you. Sometimes, he would find you after senate meetings just to talk to you about how conniving the men in the room are. 

“They undermine me, and whatever I say, some of them look as if my words mean nothing,” he told you as you were in the library working on the catalog. “They…they even insist I must marry to secure Rome even further,” you nodded along.

“Maybe you should,” you spoke absently, “Look at how the emperors did when they did not marry, especially the brothers. Security for Rome is not a bad thing, Lucius.”  The silence after your words grew so intolerable that you were forced to put the book down and look behind you. Lucius' eyes were already in yours. “I say something to upset you? I truly did not mean to”

“Marry me.” Lucious' words did not fully register to you until you had the entire stack of books fall from the table behind you. Somehow, you had stepped back at his words and caused the table to shake. 

“Lucius”

“I am thinking rationally before you tell me I am not,” he said. A few moments passed as he tried to gather his words. “I have come to realize I can not live without you in my life anymore, I need you, y/n”

“Lucius,” you warned, “You realize I have no…prospects. I am nothing in the eyes of the empire; I am a maid to the palace.” “You think I care what Rome thinks of you. I do not. My thoughts and feelings are the only ones that matter,” he told you, stepping closer to you and finally able to grab your hand. “I have not felt love and comfort until I was with you again.”

“I am scared if you choose me, you will realize there are better women to marry.” “Lies,” he said smiling, “You are the only woman in Rome for me.” he leaned down to you, inching closer and closer to you. You stalled momentarily before closing the space, meeting his lips with yours. Those embers inside you turned into a fire. He was for you, and you for him.

[abarbaricyalp]

All That and a Partridge in a Pear Tree Too

Merry Christmas! Don't look at the date.

It had started on December 13th. It was easy enough to remember because Bucky had texted him: Happy Twelve Days of Christmas. Your countdown starts now. and a gif of a very fat orange cat wearing a Santa hat.

The twelve days of Christmas happen AFTER Christmas, Sam had answered.

Bucky had texted him back a shrugging emoji. 

They hadn't seen each other in a week or so, but Sam knew Bucky was in Louisiana because he hadn't turned off the cat camera, so Sam got a notification every time he passed in front of one of them. Luckily, Bucky had the motivation of the cats as far as daily activities went, so he mostly moved from the couch to the bed and then back to the couch every four hours and stayed out of range of the cameras when he was getting himself into trouble.

Sam was stuck in New York. He'd been stuck in New York for four days and before that Bucky had been in DC, so the holiday season was not exactly going to plan. 

Countdown for what? he asked a few minutes later.

Bucky didn't respond, which wasn't unusual. He was a terrible texter.

It was late that evening when another text from his partner came in. Sam had all but forgotten about the impending countdown, chalking it up to a series of gifts or letters or something romantic like that. Bucky was good at those things, even though he pretended not to be. Sam was actually kind of surprised when flowers hadn't shown up at his door after the earlier conversation.

He'd only just gotten back to his hotel room when the text came in. He opened it while kicking his shoes off and yanking his tie loose enough to wrangle over his head.

The text loaded first, Come sit on Santa's lap ;) and the picture loaded right after it, before Sam even had time to make sure he was alone.

Mostly it was Bucky's abdomen, flexed and kind of wet for some reason. He was sprawled across the reading chair in their bedroom, long legs stretched in front of him, spread and lazy and inviting. Leather suspenders stretched along his body, connecting to lush red velvet pants that looked hardier and hotter than they had any reason to, especially since there was white fuzz along the waistband and cuffs. He was wearing the black combat boots that he knew did some sort of thing to Sam.

The picture cut off at his shoulders, rounded and tense and perfect. The line of his arm followed to the waistband of his pants, where he was lazily shoving it down, revealing the long, hard line of his cock, half exposed, half hidden beneath his pants.

Sam's hand went to his own crotch without him meaning to. It was a tantalizing tease and he could feel it working its way through him.

I don't know if I've been very good this year, he texted back with a pouting emoji.

He finished kicking off his pants and shrugged out of his shirt, all without turning off the screen of his phone. Bucky had read receipts and typing notifications off, because he was a cagey asshole, so the return text was fully a surprise.

That's my favorite kind of year.

Sam dropped himself on the bed and palmed over himself again. He still wasn't done staying at the photo when a second message came in.

You can still have your present.

It was accompanied by another photo. This time, Bucky had shoved his pants down and was fisting the top half of his cock, exposed flank tense. Sam wanted to put his teeth on it.

He switched from his messages app to the cat camera so he could watch Bucky in real time, but Bucky had been smart enough-- enough of an asshole-- to move the chair out of view of the camera. Sam exchanged a few cursed words at that, but went back to the pictures without much reticence.

What am I supposed to do with that? he asked, as if he wasn't already jerking off to a multitude of thoughts about exactly what he'd like to do with that. I already have one of those. 

The next picture caught some of Bucky's face. He'd turned to hide it against the wingback, but Sam could still see half of his wide grin and the crinkling around his eye.

Sometimes two is better than one.

Sam couldn't argue with that. He slipped his hand beneath his boxers, starting to jerk himself off in the hopes that Bucky would send another picture where he wasn't hiding his dick. One didn't come. Sam could still appreciate those boots and the leather suspenders though.

He came across his stomach before he even really got to enjoy the jerking off. Lazily, he put two fingers in his mouth (Bucky could extrapolate what he wanted from that) and took a picture of his messy abdomen and mouth.

Whoops, still being bad, he texted, then got up to take a shower.

But you make it look so good, Bucky answered. Wish your fingers were in MY mouth though.

Sam laughed as he shucked his boxers into the corner and turned on the water. Bucky was so damn easy sometimes.

Naughty, Mr. Barnes.

And once again, he was unsurprised that Bucky didn't answer. Hell, he'd probably fallen asleep. Sam got into the shower and ran up the water bill thinking about those pictures again.

Continue on AO3

[pastelwitchling]

Let's talk about Violet Sorrengail. I'm currently rereading Iron Flame in preparation for Onyx Storm, and I have so much to say on the brilliance of this series so far that I figured I could do it here. I particularly wanted to address the controversy I see around Iron Flame, which is on the conflict between Violet and Xaden, and I've seen people mostly siding with Xaden, calling Violet whiny or annoying or stubborn, and... I (not-so) respectfully disagree 😂 Warning: the following post will contain spoilers on both Fourth Wing and Iron Flame, so read at your peril:

I put out a post yesterday on fable where I basically said I was getting frustrated all over again at Xaden's secret-keeping, and I got two very different responses. One said they were angry at Xaden as well, and the other said they were annoyed with Violet. This is an excellent example of why I love this series so much: you could easily argue for both sides. At least, I could. I get that Xaden has to worry about the whole revolution and everyone involved, I get that there's more on the line than either of these two characters, I get there's a risk with Dain getting ahold of Violet, especially because we're not sure we can trust him anymore. I get there are risks, I get Xaden wanting Violet to trust him enough that she doesn't need every detail. I get all of it, but... I also really get it from Violet's perspective as well.

This is a girl who came in already one step behind everyone else, not just because she's disabled, but because she didn't train her whole life for Basgiath the way the other riders had, she never volunteered, she didn't have the drive for it going in that everyone else did. Her only option was to survive, and not because she hoped to have a dragon, but because she had no other choice. She couldn't join the scribes, so either she survived or she didn't. Her motto is literally "I will not die today" because that's all she can hope for. The only weapon in her arsenal and which she relies on to help her make it every single day is her intelligence and knowledge. She's the smartest, she can think her way out of any problem, she's intelligent enough to see paths where others wouldn't. Now? Now her only weapon is gone.

Her world's been turned upside down, one of her best friends died trying to protect her from a creature she never knew existed, everything she thought she knew and could rely on is gone, and Xaden puts her back in Basgiath, encourages her to isolate herself from her friends, not let on that she knows anything is wrong as innocent civilians are dying and towns are attacked left and right, and essentially tells her not to worry her pretty little head about it. He and the others will take care of it. What are they taking care of exactly? Well, who knows? Because he won't tell her.

DO NOT GET ME WRONG. I LOVE Xaden, he is... incomparable to me. But aren't his demands a little cruel? He has yet to tell Violet he loves her, but wants to hear the words from her. He has suspicions that Varrish will look through her things, but doesn't have anyone warn her. Maybe he can't tell her everything, but he can give her some idea on how the revolution is going, how plans are panning out, and refuses to do any of it. The most he tells Violet is that he wants her to ask the right questions, and my dude! You want her to ask you the properly-worded question so you can, what, give her another half-answer? And until she figures out those proper questions, there's a good excuse not to tell her anything? Especially when you are isolating her from everyone she holds dear, leaving her utterly alone while you get to keep your friends to rely on? And he can't tell why she'd be upset about this?

I got to the point last night in the book when he finds out she's researching the wards, and tells her that she's risking her life and he just wishes she would've been honest with him, and I guess my brain had completely blocked the hypocrisy out from my first read because I was gaping! He risks his life every day and tells her nothing about it, tells her not to even worry, but he demands honesty from her now?? With what right, sir???!!

Also, ALSO, just humor me for a second, but assume Violet did do as she was told. Assume she did try not to worry about it, not to get involved, not to do anything Xaden doesn't want her to. How does that make her a badass fmc? I think of books like Quicksilver and When the Moon Hatched and Crescent City, where the fmc was all bark and no bite. She TALKED about how much she cared about other people, she TALKED about how much everyone meant to her, she TALKED about injustice and how angry it made her and how much she wanted things to change and be better, and what did all of those fmcs have in common? They either did NOTHING, constantly yanked around by the male main character with every excuse to continue to do nothing, or they selfishly went out and made things worse in the name of doing something.

What did Violet do when Xaden told her not to worry about it? She fought back, she understood why she couldn't be told, but still asked for something so that she wouldn't go out of her mind. She was thrust back into Basgiath, lost and not knowing who or what to trust, and decided she was going to be productive, she was going to look into the wards and find a way to protect people in a clever and quiet way. And spoiler alert? It's her work with the wards that ends up saving everyone, and she doesn't get innocent people killed or in trouble doing it either.

I am so eternally sick of being TOLD why female main characters are badass and how caring and wonderful and self-sacrificial they are, and what do we get? We get unbelievably selfish characters like Bryce, or fmcs from Quicksilver and When the Moon Hatched and One Dark Window whose names I've already forgotten because all they did was snarl and talk and had no abilities to follow it up.

So yeah, I'll defend Violet until the hilt because she's out there DOING something helpful and worthwhile, she's actually contributing, and her anger makes sense. She's separated from everyone she loves, the one man she wishes she could talk to is gone most of the time, and giving her half-answers when he's actually there. She doesn't know what to trust, this is a girl who recites the history of her world to calm herself and give herself courage, and who has now discovered that that history is a lie. Xaden is supposed to be the guy that believed in her abilities when no one else did, and now she feels like he's become just someone else who doesn't trust in her strength to guard her thoughts against Dain. Whether or not it's true doesn't matter because it's how he makes her feel, and her feelings are already a mess after everything that's happened.

Does it come off a bit stubborn? Sure, but... how I think of it is a lot like Harry Potter from Order of the Phoenix. He was angry during that whole book, too, but I don't know, these characters are always so good and brave and clever and genuinely caring and willing to do what it takes for the people they love that when they can't take it anymore, when they've been pushed to their limit, it's not fair to tell them to just be reasonable and follow orders and keep quiet. They know too much, too much has happened, too many people around them have hurt them. I think that warrants a little anger, a need to be useful and do something when everything else feels so hopeless.

If Xaden wanted somebody that was content not knowing and not helping and not caring, if he wanted someone that wouldn't have put their lives at risk to save people and, above all, save him, then he should've fallen in love with someone else.

[strikexlightning]

Ryan Howard x Male Reader

notes: this might not be show timeline accurate, I'm not even gonna lie :'), it's supposed to take place in season 6, I had the wiki open the whole time so hopefully it's at least passable, also sorry if the characters are ooc a little, I'm still in the process of rewatching the show.

cws: mention of ryan being into pain, fucking at work, they don't use lube

Your head falls into your hands, overwhelmed by whatever bullshit Jim was doing to Dwight today. Sometimes you found it funny, but on days like today, it made you question why you accepted the accounting position all those years ago. You at least wished you could work in the annex, or in that cozy little closet Jim put Ryan in.

You push back your chair, getting up and walking into the kitchen, deciding to get more coffee because you couldn't possibly think of going back into that area of the office without any sort of caffeine.

“Hey.” Someone behind you says. It makes you jump and almost spill scalding hot coffee all over your hand, and you turn, wondering how you didn't hear anyone walk in before you remember Ryan's “office” is directly behind you.

You give him a little nod in return, not in the mood for listening to his pretentious bullshit. The last time you came into the kitchen, the closet door was open and he made you look at the…interesting pictures he's been taking, trying to be artsy. He literally made you stand there for 30 minutes straight while the phone on your desk rang.

As he looks through the fridge, it's clear he's just pretending, using it to hide the fact that he keeps glancing over at you, trying to see if you acknowledge his presence. As you finish up making your coffee, he shuts the fridge, realizing it's not gonna work.

He passes behind you, leaning against the counter as you clean up the small amount of coffee you spilled. He's too close, his elbow almost touching yours.

“Got any plans after work?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think everyone's planning on going out for drinks.” You answer, taking a sip from the mug. You weren't really interested in talking to him but you didn't want to be rude.

“Well I was asking about you specifically…silly.” He says, with a weird, awkward laugh. He added the “silly” at the end in a way that made it sound like he was debating on whether or not to say that, and you can tell he instantly regrets saying it as he awkwardly glances towards the film crew when you don't respond and then retreats back to his closet, shutting the door.

You squint at the door before slowly walking back to your desk, Dwight now back in his seat and Jim nowhere to be found. You work for a little bit before you start to get bored, switching tabs to a random game. When lunch comes, a few people leave together, leaving the break room empty because the few people still there were up to other things. You didn't really care, all you heard was ‘empty room all to yourself’.

You grab your food and get comfortable, being the only one in there. You read as you eat, some random fantasy book you had picked up somewhere. It was peaceful, without any shenanigans, no camera crew because they were off filming the interesting stuff.

And you jinxed it, because the second you start to enjoy your lunch, Ryan himself comes striding in, straight towards you. You didn't know exactly why you disliked him so much. He wasn't really that horrible to you, though he did kind of suck, and you didn't really care much about the others’ to hate him for any personal reasons. Part of you wondered if it was some kind of sexual frustration, because he was kind of hot and clearly didn't have anything against sleeping with coworkers. Maybe it was the sex dreams you had of him when he was VP, you just really wanted to put that man in his place, but he kind of did it to himself when he got arrested so after that the dreams kind of just stopped.

The fact that you found him sexually attractive freaked you out, not because he was a guy, but because it was Ryan of all people. The last thing he needed was another ego boost.

He stands in front of the table you're sitting at, staring at you until you look up at him. He sits next to you, getting comfortable and once again, way too close. He's practically on top of you, his hand squeezing your arm tightly, probably so you can't get up and leave.

“Listen, man. I found this new…business venture, let's say. I figured you'd be interested.” His voice is a low whisper, like he's telling you some mystical secret or something, and he stares at you expectantly.

You have literally no idea what the fuck he's talking about.

You stare back at him, a confused look taking over your face. “...you’re not doing coke again, are you?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. I just think you and I should…discuss…business strategies. After work. Tonight.”

You're pretty sure he's just trying to fuck you and can't come up with a better reason to get you alone other than straight out asking. You're not completely opposed, so you shrug.

“Sure, I guess.” You glance over and see someone from the camera crew recording you through the window from outside of the door. There goes your undisturbed lunch break.

He grins, letting go of your arm and patting your back, his hand lingering for a little bit. “Sweet.”

You nod in response, not knowing what to say. Now that you're aware of what he's doing, it just makes it weirder that he's doing that rather than coming right out and saying it. You saw how he was with women usually, so you figured he just didn't know how to flirt with men.

He stands back up and stops in his place when he sees the crew filming the both of you, and then he continues to leave. You can see him saying something to them, but you can't hear it. You sigh when you check the clock, realizing your lunch is over and you barely got through the first ten pages of the book. You retreat back to your desk, finishing out the rest of the day playing computer games and avoiding doing actual work.

When it's time to leave, you grab your jacket, relieved that the day was over. You were actually intrigued to see where Ryan was going with his horrible attempt at asking you to come over. You knew it was some kind of sexual advance just by how see through he is to you, but you didn't exactly know how it would play out and it was a little exciting.

“Are you coming to the bar with us?” Meridith asks you as she comes up next to you. You shake your head.

“No, I'm…going straight home. Gonna get some rest. You have fun though.” You respond in a suspicious manner. Luckily she doesn't care and says goodbye to you before leaving with everyone else.

You see Ryan out of the corner of your eye, and you turn your head, not expecting him to be staring directly at you as Michael is trying to talk to him. Michael sees that Ryan is looking in your direction and he waves you over. You give him a small smile as you walk over.

“I was just telling Ryan about that new Mexican restaurant that just opened, we should check it out one of these days. You know, just us three guys. Hangin’ out.” Michael tells you. He seems really excited at the idea of that so you nod along, not wanting to decline.

But Ryan isn't even paying attention, eyes still locked on you. He's basically just eyefucking you, running down your body and back up to your face. He doesn't look away when you stare back at him. The two of you stay locked in a sexually charged staring contest, and neither of you notice when Michael realizes you aren't paying attention to him and leaves.

You make the first move, lightly pushing him against Jim's desk, to which he leans back immediately. That one action seems to awaken both of your urges, urges that were held back for the sake of being professional. He pushes a few things out of the way to fully get onto the desk, pulling you closer by your tie as your hands fall to his waist.

He presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss, letting you get in between his legs as he holds a hand in your hair and the other gripping your arm tightly. You unbutton his shirt and loosen his tie, hands grabbing at his waist and torso underneath his shirt. He wraps his legs around your waist, pulling you even closer as you make out while he bucks his hips up against you, moaning into your mouth. He pulls away, hands unbuttoning your shirt and then sliding down to your belt.

“I've always wanted to do it here.” He says, his face slightly flushed as he catches his breath.

“Why?” You ask. It didn't surprise you that he wanted to though.

Ryan shrugs as he gets your belt off. You do the same for him and he ruts his hips against you again, groaning softly.

“It's one thing you're not supposed to do, obviously I'd want to do it.”

You make a short humming sound to acknowledge what he said as you grab his hips again, grinding your clothed erection against his, straining against his pants. He moans, looking up at you with the most desperate look you've ever seen from him.

You lean forward, lips brushing against the man's neck. He lets out a soft sigh, moving his head to give you access to his neck. You kiss down to his shoulder before biting down, pulling a moan from him. One of your hands comes up to the back of his head, tangling itself in his hair as you kiss and suck at his neck and shoulder, trying not to make marks in spots that could be easily seen.

“Fuck..you can do them wherever, I don't care if people see.” He says, his voice breathy.

You raise a curious eyebrow and then move upwards, your hand sliding up to the side of his head and pulling it to the side more, which he softly moans at. You leave a mark in a very visible spot before you can tell Ryan is getting impatient.

Your fingers loop around the waist of his pants and you pull them and his underwear down, his painfully hard cock springing out. You do the same for yourself, your dick against his thigh. He stares down at it, biting down on his bottom lip. You stop what you're doing and he looks up at you.

“We don't have lube. Unless you have some.” You say. He looks off towards where the closet is, thinking for a minute.

“There's some in my desk.” He responds, but he grabs your arm to stop you from going to get it. “Just leave it, it's fine.”

You raise an eyebrow again. “Are you sure? It'll hurt.”

He looks away from you, grip on you loosening and moving to rub at his eye. “I don't, uh. I don't mind.”

You instantly understand and you even laugh slightly. You wrap a hand around the base of his dick, rock hard and dripping. It throbs when you slowly start to move your hand, pumping it up and down a few times. Ryan bucks his hips into your hand, letting out breathy, desperate moans.

You lift your other hand, spitting into it and wrapping it around your cock. Moving to hold his thigh, you guide yourself into him, making him suck in a sharp breath. He presses a hand to his forehead, and once you're fully in, he releases a high pitched moan. You're about to comment on it but decided against it, slowly starting to thrust in and out.

Ryan's eyes are shut tight, his mouth open as breathy high pitched moans escape him every time you push back in. You start to speed up, your hold on his hips getting tighter as you groan. One of his arms reaches out behind him, looking for something to grab onto and knocking over a cup of pencils and pens in the process. He grabs onto the edge of the desk, the whole thing rocking with you, things falling over and being knocked onto the floor.

You dig your nails into the man's skin, and his head falls back as he cums, landing on his chest and stomach. His cock twitches from the sensitivity when you only speed up more, pounding into him. He moans loudly, not caring if there's anyone still in the vicinity.

His legs squeeze tighter around you as he loudly begs you not to pull out with a lot of expletives. You groan out a “fuck” and bury yourself in him, releasing your load and riding out your high before slowing to a stop.

You both are silent while trying to catch your breath. Eventually, you pull out slowly, and back up, letting Ryan hop off the desk. He stumbles a little bit, his legs weak underneath him. He pulls his pants back up.

“I'm gonna go clean up, I'll be back.” He says, going off to the bathroom. You readjust your clothes, buttoning your shirt back up, and tying your tie back on the right way.

You try your best to fix Jim's desk, picking up all the stuff you knocked over and hoping he doesn't notice something is off. While you wait for Ryan, you think about the fact that you had sex with a coworker. In the place you work at. On top of your other coworkers desk.

You kind of understand why Ryan wanted to now, it was fun.

He comes back out, tie still loose and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, but his hair is fixed and he's less flushed. The two of you walk outside, walking past a few cleaners you did not know were in the building yet. Some of the camera crew are standing outside when you walk out the door and you almost jump. You and Ryan are silent before awkwardly going your separate ways to separate cars, the cameraman zooming into Ryan's marked up neck.

They had a lot of interesting questions to ask on Monday.

[ii-generation2]

[After a little while, Umbrella wanted to check up on OJ after the sillypocalypse incident, and saw OJ still asleep. She let out a sigh as she sat next to the mattress the anon gave him.]

Umbrella: "..Hi, OJ!"

OJ: "Hm..?" [OJ stirs in his sleep, turning to see Umbrella,] "What do you want now..?"

Umbrella, clearing her throat: "Well.. just wanted to check if you're alright, y'know, after the.. silly string incident."

OJ: "Hold on—" [He slowly pulls himself up from the mattress, sitting straight up.] "What exactly happened while I was.. y'know, in my silly state and didn't know what was going on?"

Umbrella: "Well, we were all hiding, so I didn't see much, but.. y'know, you were very fast!! I also saw you being so quick that you literally shattered the back of Lightbulb's head!! That's impressive.. but.. really caused some damage."

OJ: [Sigh,] "I guess that's why I don't want to be involved in situations like these. Plus, it's been Lightbulb's idea in the first place, she came up to me with the perfect plan to spray some stupid string in my drink!"

Umbrella: "..Was it silly string, perhaps?"

OJ: "No, it wasn't silly string, that silly string came from the ceiling or something, there's no way that was Lightbulb."

Umbrella: "Well.. regardless, it's over now, I think.. we won't have to deal with this again."

OJ: "Well if it ever happens again, it won't be me."

[Umbrella chuckled,]

Umbrella: "It sure won't be you."

OJ: "Right, Whatever," [He lies back down] "Just leave me alone."

Umbrella: "Okay," [She gets up, walking away from the mattress.] "Bye OJ!" [She sighed,] "..At least nothing chaotic would happen now.."

[elpida]

"we picked a farm, it seemed liek a smart idea. farm or island but an island well, we weren't exactly spoiled for choice and this was the closest farm before nightfall so.. we just picked this one, i won't lie to you ma'am we didn't have much more of a plan after that, it was just come up with something and go from there and here we are." lying was going to get him nowhere, he knew that. either way he was making sure that rhea was a safe few feet back, this one hand hovering at his side as if to keep her there, where he knew she was safe. "i'd just like to be able to keep my wife safe from travelling in the dark hours."

"if? there isn't a chance in hell that they're gettin' near the house." see had anyone else brought it up, had any other person questioned him on letting them stay.. he'd have given a very firm and final answer but because he was aiyla he was pliable, he'd crumble for her so easily. if only she knew how easily.

with a slow exhale he turned his head to speak up. "what are you good at, what're your skills? you can lift, carry weight?" he had half a grumble in his voice when he asked. "you know anythin' bout farming? about repairing any of this? 'coz if you can be sueful then.." he flashed aiyla a look, he wasn't sure... but if they were in the barn away from them? they could take turns the first few nights, watching, waiting for some sort of overthrow, whether they'd stay there. "then you can stay in the barn, not in the house or anythin' but the barn is a roof.. it's clear, you can help me finish clearin' it out since there's an hour or so left of sunlight."

elias couldn't have been quicker to roll his sleeves up and open the gate. he was more than ready to put the work in. "point me in the direction, i'm happy to work." he did flash a smile to aiyla too. "rhea knows all about raspberries if that's a possibility for the farm!" sarcastic as ever.

with that cade held a hand up to pause them before they got too close. "i'll say this once and once only, for the sake of sayin' it. you hurt her, you cause any trouble, i'll break all of your limbs n' string you up for passerby's to see, makin' myself clear?"

elias wanted to retaliate, he really did... but he also knew that it was for now, better to keep the peace and not be turned away and cast out into the dark. "there wont be any trouble, not for either of you."

lips press together as he speaks - earlier teasing demeanor replaced by one of concern - entirely unconvinced that this is a good idea. it might appear to be one woman, but rhea has learned that looks can be deceiving these days and she refuses to trust anything at face value. wandering about once the sun sets however, isn't really an option, so almost reluctantly, she sighs. "i don't like it." any further protest is halted by the kiss pressed to the top of her head - doe eyes blinking after him in surprise. they've been affectionate, certainly but that was... different.

it isn't that she's unaware of her surroundings - her head remains on a swivel despite having settled into the farm some weeks earlier - but the glances she tosses up are sporadic. the dead are slow and they haven't seen another living soul since they'd claimed the farm as their own... so perhaps she's grown a bit complacent. thoroughly distracted by the raised garden bed they'd installed, aiyla nearly startles out of her skin at the abrupt greeting. taking half a step back from the garden, blue hues assess the man critically before flickering behind him to the woman whose several paces back. it isn't a decision she'll make alone, and while part of her wants to call for cade, aiyla doesn't want to place him into any unnecessary danger either. "how'd you stumble on our home?" it's the only thing she cares about.

rhea isn't surprised to see someone else appear given how unlikely it is the other woman is alone - but its the sheer speed of his approach - the way his face seems to soften for her before immediately telling them off. swallowing a lump in her throat, she steps forward to hover just behind elias ( fingers reaching blindly to clasp around the material of his sleeve once more ). "we've just been looking for a place to settle - just like everyone else these days. it's just us - elias is right. we're just looking for somewhere to stay for the night."

unconsciously, aiyla finds herself leaning back into cade's touch - grounding herself and attempting to shake some of the nerves that have appeared with the appearance of two strangers. "i'm fine - they haven't stepped beyond the gate since they showed up," she assured quietly. "we can't just turn them away, cade. they aren't wrong. it'll be dark well before they hit another farm - assuming they manage to keep the right direction. we could let them stay in the barn for the night if you don't want them in the house."

[qulizalfos]

having a fantasy au moment it may or may not pass

[the-busy-ghost]

Warning- this is a very petty post, but I think I'm entitled to at least one petty, pissed-off reaction every time I finish a classic novel that hit harder than I expected so take this as my quota for the year.

Also spoiler warning for a book that came out over a century ago but still, I didn't know the plot going in so don't want to ruin it for anyone else, if you haven't read it shut your eyes. (Also Local Tumblr User Going Wild Over Book Published a Hundred Years Ago That Everybody Else Already Read should probably be categorised as akey part of indigenous tumblr culture at this point).

Anyway I just finished the War of the Worlds and in between studying I've thinking about Themes and Motifs as you do, and idly looking for further analysis. I then accidentally ran into an article called 'A Quiet Place II Succeeds Where the War of the Worlds Failed' and:

Now I haven't seen any of the Quiet Place films, this is not a rant against them and of course everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But re: the ending of The War of the Worlds, I have to ask, did this guy somehow miss, uh, the entire point of the book or am I just utterly insane?

[gamebunny-advance]

*Exhale*

Alright, I've been teasing it long enough. Anyone that's been paying attention has probably figured out what my oh-so secret project has been (not that it's going to stop me from vague-posting about it), and he really is close to being finished.

Face-up. Done. (Though I would like to touch-up where the paint has chipped)

Clothes. Painted.

Wig. Styled.

I literally just need to put the fringe on his scarf, but for whatever reason, I've just been hit with this wave of fatigue since about the time I wrote the last confessions post (frankly, if you ever see me writing/posting long-ass posts, it's because I've lost the energy to use my hands to make things).

I guess I just burned myself out from making both him and Kun3h0 at the same time, that when Kun3h0 got finished, my whole body shut down having felt relief from "completing" the project. To be fair, this has been going on since at least mid-Janurary, so I am more than ready to close the book on this one.

I'll try to finish him within the month, but there are also a lot of other things going on with me ATM, so I wouldn't hold me to it.

[keeps-ache]

ooo that's minty babyyy

[ms-demeanor]

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.