#he was a 13 year old in a fucked up situation

[contradictory-equivalence]

fucking up iz g&&d f&r every&ne i think. then &g&in if &ny&ne's g&nn& &dvertize fucking up it'z me. i c&n't even c&&k @ my &wn hive &nym&re cuz i fucked up upgr&ding my crizpr&nge z& b&d. &nyw&y...

i d&n't kn&w y&ur zitu&ti&n but i'm zure the pe&ple &r&und y&u c&n h&ndle y&u mezzing up & little trying t& figure y&urzelf &ut

& fine. y&u're n&t the w&rzt tr&ll i've ever t&lked 2. c&ngr&tz.

n&t regrubbing th&t but it w&uld zeem r iz zlutting me &ut &z & tech guy &g&in. re&lly c&&l &f y&u r&&nz. h&pe ur spectrum h&ting &zz kn&wz h&w th&t c&uld be zeen.

[majimassqueaktoy]

Honestly the funniest thing about Haruka's idol story line in y5 (and dont any of you come at me with the You're Lessening Mirei's Evil Heinous Actions shit, I know she was the antagonist, blah blah) is the fact that as far as traineeships go Haruka's.... wasn't all that unusual- Living on your own away from your parents? Par the course. Having older figures be unduly harsh about your talent/looks? Also par the course. Insane schedules? Creepy fans? Yep. In fact Haruka is older than a lot of people are when they start traineeships nowadays... Like that aspect of the game could have been played up for even more dramatic value than it was.

[kuiinncedes]

aksndbdhdhdhhd

[dashiellqvverty]

finally on the final case of aai2 and uh. hey. if this woman is actually this kids biological mother. someone needs to die perhaps.

[mimikinyuu]

(ooc post: building lore between my two pkmn irl blogs hehe more to come)

[apppletea]

die your daughter.

act one.

sipnosis: Your own desires were alien to your family, to the point where you are determined to commit an atrocious act but suddenly everything is 7 years ago when you were only 13 years old. Something has changed and you're not sure what it is.

w ; suicide, self-harm.

Your whole life was in her hands, in the hands of that woman and now in the hands of this family who didn't give a shit about you! So how should you react when you returned to your fresh 13 years? Should you have just been happy and cried? No, never.

Your room had become a mess, a mess worse than that family, the furniture thrown over next to the books, the posters you once loved torn and ripped, the trophies you earned with great effort lying near some wall due to the blows you gave them.

How? HOW THE FUCK?!

Soon you felt tears of pure helplessness fall on your cheeks, you looked at the plushies on your bed, they were all obligatory gifts, nothing was genuine, nothing at all! So what? Now what? What should you do? It was probably a horrible, terrible nightmare. No, it shouldn't have happened. You brought your hands to your neck hoping to finish again, hoping to choke on your saliva, you pushed harder and harder until the sudden click of the door sounded.

Alfred entered, worried or not really due to the commotion that sounded in your walls, his gaze fixed on your suicide attempt and quickly sprang into action, approaching you and holding your hands, while you caught your breath and tears wet everything.

‘young master...!!’ The adult's worried voice brought you to your senses for a moment. This was really real. It wasn't a lie, it wasn't a cruel nightmare. You had returned to that prison.

You sobbed, moans of pain leaving your mouth as you still struggled to catch your breath, Alfred stayed by your side, holding your hands to prevent you from trying again, He'd never seen you like this before, never thought you were capable of doing something like that, and the more he thought about it, the more terrified he became. What if you had a gun? A knife? Oh, He would never forgive himself for that.

Your eyes were too watery to see clearly, your gaze fixed on the now open door, the whole mansion was silent, but to you, they were like whispers, whispers that never left.

‘ugh—!... i feel sick.’ You murmured softly, abruptly removing your hands and seeking comfort within yourself, hugging yourself and hoping nothing more would happen but it didn't last, really nothing. You felt a gaze, a gaze that you could recognize from a distance, it was him, you looked up to find him watching the scene you created.

Alfred looked at him and simply looked away for a moment before greeting him properly. ‘master Damian.’ He said with a calm voice, the situation was serious but he... He was he.

You felt your body tremble and you could feel the anger that you had held in for 7 years, you didn't know what you were doing and you couldn't think clearly either, you only knew one thing, you hit Damian.

Alfred stood still like a statue, he knew you were in a vulnerable state but he didn't recognize that you could easily break at the sight of your family or at least, your brother.

‘wha— what's wrong with you?!’ He screamed but that scream you hated to hear because you knew he was ready to despise you, you grabbed another trophy to throw it at him but Alfred intervened, this time he took your side, he never did.

‘master damian! Please, stop. She's in serious condition.’ Alfred quickly justified it, Damian remained silent and looked at you again, this time realizing how you were and how the room was a mess. ‘So what? She thinks can throw a tantrum? Definitely not.’

‘shut up—!’

‘what?’

‘SHUT UP! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU!!’

‘You—? oh.’

He remained completely silent as you writhed in the shadows that embraced you, shadows that never left you alone and perhaps you should have been grateful to them for not going completely crazy.

Alfred sighed, his eyebrows furrowed and he gave Damian a little push to leave the room, he left, still looking at you with an expression of confusion and deep pain that tried to disguise. Your words echoed completely in his vivid memory, his hands buried themselves in his hair as he gripped it with great force while his back slid against the wall next to your door. ‘UGH!—’

How can you hate him? How?— Aren't you that little girl who entered the mansion and tried everything to get close to him? Your older brother? What changed? What happened? What, what?! He couldn't allow himself to fall apart just because of that, he shouldn't let your words get to him, maybe you only said it because you were angry, yes, surely. He shouldn't have broken just because of that, he's... a well-trained boy, Talia al Ghul's son, he can't, no... So why does frustration fill every part of his being?

You felt like your eyes were exploding, they hurt, and so was your head, or rather, your whole body hurt, even your arms with scratches and cuts, your cheek with a scar that you got without thinking. All of this was real, it was real that Alfred took your side for the first time, it was real how Damian reacted quickly to your pitch, It was real like your room was the same, the pain was real, everything was real, so so real that you still couldn't believe it.

Alfred carefully pressed the wounds, slowly wrapping your arms with bandages. You weren't someone sensitive, not after what you went through in what is now your old life. You had had an insensitivity to pain, with all the wounds you got through your life, all your skin couldn't feel it properly and maybe it was an advantage, you never felt each wound again.

Still, you felt less human. If you couldn't feel pain, what were you then? A punching bag for those kids at your school? For your family? Maybe.

The older man's voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked at him momentarily before looking down and losing yourself in the ocean of feelings you felt. He sighs again and leaves the room without being able to say anything, how could he anyway? They had neglected you so much that you were about to end your own life, he should tell the lord of the mansion but he can't, he doesn't know why but no, he can't.

Night had finally arrived, you knew everyone would leave, where to? You couldn't say, it was always a mystery but it was an opportunity not to escape, but to study the mansion and everyone, although in your old life you had allowed yourself to remember everything about each other, now they were just distant memories that were no longer in your head.

You didn't know where Alfred had gone but you didn't care, that didn't matter anymore so you barely heard the last one of them leave, You opened the door to your room and walked out silently. You were already dressed in your pajamas, ready to sleep, but today wasn't the time to sleep when everyone was awake too.

You looked around and walked carefully, going down to the main room and looking around again until you noticed something strange, maybe the mansion wasn't completely empty. Your gaze focused on the feet dangling from the armrests, large feet. ‘damn...’ You murmured as you noticed who it surely was, you approached trying not to be so noticeable but perhaps you knew that wouldn't work at all.

The figure was larger, of an adult, Jason.

The oldest brother, The resurrected one, the Robin, or whatever, you also temporarily sought his attention and affection but like everyone else, he was too busy to think about you. He was clearer with you, he made it clear that he didn't want you around even when you were determined to read all the books someone recommended just to keep you quiet.

Sigh... You looked closer and he was just sleeping with a book on his damn face, maybe it was a trick, you couldn't tell, you must have walked past and not paid attention but the air was cold or at least for you. You noticed that he was in his usual clothes,, you looked at him a little longer and simply placed a blanket over him and left, following your mission.

...

Silence, that was all, you had passed through a corridor so long that you felt it would never end. You had realized why, it was a corridor or hallway with all the family portraits, from the first Robin to the last, except you were the last and you had given up on the idea of being Robin. That's why yours was different, not with the idea of being special, it was the idea of seeing yourself as cool as all your siblings, so intimidating but at the same time with an aura of calm.

You loved your portrait, even as the years passed, you always admired yourself as a child, for your love of weapons even though one almost killed you. You, being the little 8-year-old with one of those long guns posing and holding it at the same time, loved your past self, brave, strong, and capable of doing anything. You are now a shadow of what you once were, and you didn't dislike it at all now.

And now, in that moment, it was just you and the shadows hiding in the darkness of this mansion.

new chapter yayy, excuse my inactivity !

I tried to focus a lot on the reader's reaction to having returned to that life again, it's like, I feel like she has to have some kind of anger because she ended her life because she didn't want to LIVE in that house and now shes back.

I have also seen in many fanfics that the reader first wanted the attention of the oldest brother, Dick, and wanted to change that because this reader is the youngest in the family and she wanted the attention and affection of Damian, her older brother.

and thats all... btw I'll be making the taglist soon, if you want to be added, please comment and make sure your settings allow it!

have a good day (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠).

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

was rereading the convo dirk has with dave and was captivated by the subtle work done to indicate how very much this was not actually a good or productive convo for dirk, and a capstone on the toxic mess that is him and hal

in the exact same conversation that dave is explaining, and dirk is seemingly accepting, that beta!dirk/bro should not have been allowed near a child, dirk chooses to bring up hal. and he does it to be really shitty.

DIRK: Creating him was an interesting exercise I guess, but over the years I came to see his development as one of my biggest mistakes. DIRK: He sort of turned into a monster. But I could never bring myself to get rid of him, or even really blame him for being an asshole, because he wasn't actually that different from me.

like... hal is dirk's younger brother/kid, right?

that's part of the reason that when hal starts using a different color, it's dave's red. in one part, the orange/red split is evocative of dave/davesprite, casting dirk/hal as foils, but... i don't think the lil bro/"kid i'm responsible for" vibe is unintentional, either. especially when paired with the fact that the brainscan is of 13-year-old dirk, and that the words "nascent" and "emergent" are used to describe hal's consciousness, all implying an element of youthfulness or childishness to him that isn't applied to dirk.

hal is fully sapient, has real feelings (by dirk's own admission, too), and is also, like, completely his own guy. he's not a dirk splinter, he's a computer housing a dirk splinter, and he and dirk only think they're the same guy because their individual issues happen to perfectly align in the worst possible way.

so if you look at their relationship through that lens instead - a frankenstein/frankenstein's monster scenario (which is also directly and intentionally an exploration on parenthood) at best and dirk Pretty Much Actually Just Making A Child at worst - doesn't it become really fucked up that Dirk tried to kill him?

Doesn't it become really fucked up that Dirk is outright calling him a "mistake" and a "monster"?

the other really interesting thing here is when he talks about Jake - specifically, the way he chooses to "make it up to" jake. which is to say, he doesn't.

DIRK: I wouldn't be surprised if he was trying to avoid me as much as possible. DIRK: I'm sure that's for the best. DIRK: I think I need to stay out of his business for a good while, so I don't risk poisoning another innocent kid's life.

This isn't a solution. Hell, this isn't even an apology. This is just self-isolation, self-punishment, more of Dirk's martyrdom complex and teen boy diva bullshit.

yes, dirk hates himself, but the actual toxic loop he's stuck in is one where he doesn't address any of his problems. he identifies what his issues are, he feels really bad about them, he can enunciate them very clearly to other people, but then, instead of fixing them, he inflicts punishment on himself and then calls it a day.

We know that this is a bullshit thing to do to Jake because we know the situation from jake's side of things.

GT: Do you think you could relay the same sentiments to dirk? GT: I was thinking about all the stuff he said to me while we were all telling him to dance. GT: And yeah i was really being a prick when i ran away to lomax. GT: He was right about everything. I should have come clean about wanting some space.

jake wants reconciliation! jake wants to address the fact that he failed and apologize! jake wants to be friends again!

self-punishment is not a solution, and while I don't think dirk is entirely cognizant that he's doing it, by venting to dave - who literally has no idea what's been going on in dirk's group - he's able to frame the story - ahem, control the narrative - to justify his own shitty choice to not actually improve as a person, but instead to wallow in his own self-inflicted misery. If he'd said what he did about Hal to Jake, Roxy, or Jane - all of whom recognized hal's personhood and emotional reality to some degree, and spoke with him extensively - how would they respond? If they knew he'd tried to kill Hal, how would they respond?

The answer to that is why he doesn't tell them, and has got to be ticking in the background to explain why Dirk chooses to isolate himself from them. Put simply, I think the reason why he seems to think his friends never know the worst of him is because he deliberately avoids showing them. If he showed them, they wouldn't stay quiet, and if they didn't stay quiet, he'd actually have to... do something about it, instead of just indulging in some self-punishment and walking away feeling like the problem was solved.

and i think part of why he's so terrible to hal is because, on some level, he recognizes that he does kind of owe it to hal to be better. because, you see.

Hal is his kid.

hal's existence, hal's circumstances, and hal's suffering are a direct result of dirk's decisions, and hal is taking him to task for them. the things dirk really resents about hal are less the ways that hal is a reflection of dirk, though that's in there too, but the fact that hal is asking dirk to take responsibility. actual responsibility. that hal keeps confronting him with the fact that he's the one who caused hal's plight, he's the one with the power to fix it, and he's the one choosing inaction and avoidance.

TT: I'm guessing she's touching base to remind me about the party tomorrow. TT: I don't know what to tell her yet. Or Jane, for that matter. TT: It could get pretty awkward. TT: I have no idea if Jake will be there, and I'm not about to write another cringe-inducing message of desperation for him to ignore. AR: Would you like me to calculate the probability of his attendance? TT: Fuck no. AR: Are you sure? AR: My probabilities are extremely precise. TT: Your probabilities don't mean dick. AR: I could hack his chats, and determine what his plans are. TT: No. Don't do that either. [...] TT: Just don't do anything. Seriously. TT: No hacking, no calculations. Do absolutely nothing.

That's why Dirk takes such exception to the AI thing, too.

AR: In any case, my use of the responder responder is ironic. TT: It's not ironic. TT: YOU were ironic when I made you. TT: Then you became self-aware, and ruined irony forever.

then you became self-aware - in other words, "then you became a free-thinking entity and those jokes became reminders that your situation is fucked up, and i'm the one who put you in it". in other words, "and then you were born, and i had to be responsible for that". because, after all, the AI jokes that dirk hates so much? those aren't a reflection of dirk. that's all hal, baby. dirk can't use his "i hate you because i hate myself" excuse on that.

now i don't want to make it sound like i'm saying that dirk is a monster or anything. he does care, very fucking deeply, about his friends. and i think this conversation was genuinely very cathartic and helpful for dave. and it is, genuinely, very tragic that he does actually hate himself to the point where he finds it difficult to believe that he can get better, or even that he deserves to get better.

but those feelings have transformed into a vastly more harmful attitude of wilful, obstinate refusal to change, and even outright resentment and fear towards those that would ask him to. it's subtler than some of the others, but his convo with dave really highlights that dirk has not finished developing as a character yet. and i think it's really neat.

[brights-place]

Can we please have more Miles morales 42 with little sister reader ? (13 years old) Maybe some angsty headcanons where instead of his dad dying, his sister is the one who actually dies in his universe ?

[ATSV] Miles 42! & Dead! Reader Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT, Death

A/N: OMG WAIT THATS AWESOME ANGST FUCK YEAH

Summary: Miles 42 is sister died instead of his dad... but oho I got something better both of them dying sorry it might be short I have one more day then im free from school and im on summer holidays Sorry its REALLY SHORTTT

Miles stared eyes shaky he never understood people when they said their world went quiet... but now he does. he understood now that he didn't have the familiar voice of his younger sister running around annoying him, pestering him, bothering her older brother to eat with her when he wouldn't leave his room he understood now that there was nothing to fill his world with. Rio frowned at miles who was staring at the coffins of not only his father but of the young girl beside him in a separate coffin with a bouquet of favorite flowers. When Rio and Miles heard that when You and Jeff were in the situation you wouldn't stop crying gripping onto your dad hugging him as he protected you from the particular explosion that caused your deaths from trying not only to protect the city but for his family most of all his daughter and son. The burnt scars on your body your face pale and dull eyes shut with makeup that complimented your face even though your older brother said you always looked like shit he felt shitter when he couldn't have complimented you before you died. Rio was beside him holding miles close as she stared at Jeff's corpse then yours. One thing known was that what was one of the worst things to see was a grieving mother and miles knew you would never live it down even in the after life if he didn't let rio cry with him or he didn't even cry at all since you always told him off to be able to express himself. Rio saw miles gripping the coffin edges with a blank face yet his eyes had a familiar glisten in his eyes "Come on miles... lets say goodbye okay?" she whispered an hand on his shoulder as Miles spoke "whats the point-" "Miles" Miles kept quiet staring at the faces of his dad and his younger sister "Sometimes we say goodbye because the next hello will never come in this lifetime so.. let's-" her voice started going shaky as Miles spoke "Okay" as they both bid their farewells at the coffins as Rio couldn't help but break down a couple minutes later when burying them as Miles had to try console his mother the best way he could as uncle aaron helped rio up and lend a shoulder.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[thegayestdiaz]

just woke up and i’m still so fucking mad that the diaz parents just swooped in and interfered with the situation the way they did because it’s so clear they do not give a fuck about eddie’s emotional and mental state and only about getting chris because why would you not even facilitate a conversation between this hurt child and his heartbroken father? why would you just agree to a 13 year old’s request to move states without even consulting his parent? yes chris needs space and he gets to dictate how that looks but the fact that not one attempt was made to help eddie—their actual child—deal with the situation the way grandparents should says so much about their actual intentions here. and why on god would chris call his grandparents instead of pepa or isabel when he’s been closer to them for years? fuck ass storyline really

[mythicmanuscripts]

"Cause yeah sure he lost his virginity to that brothel worker (which, by the way, I have many many thoughts on this because I am convinced this completely fucked him up for years afterwards)"

*Clears throat* Excuse me, ma'am. I'm gonna NEED you to tell me more about this 🙏🏻

Alright everyone strap in, I guess we are riding the angst train tonight. Honestly I have so many thoughts and feelings about this and part one of me thinks we should have a whole series dedicated just to Aemond’s recovery from that. You know what? It’s a tag now. ‘Aemond’s recovery’ is gonna the tag I use for discussions around this cause I think we all have thoughts and feelings on it.

Anyway, while the content of this answer isn’t explicit, there are definitely sexual undertones and implied sexual situations as well as discussions of assault and mental health so if you’re good with all of that, then venture out beyond the cut!

So I think the first thing to understand is that Aemond is very private and pretty closed off in general. Growing up he of course was taught about sex, and about the double standard between how women have to be virgins and men do not.

As much as the thought of sex made him feel uneasy because the act itself seems so… exposed, he was comforted by the fact that sex is supposed to take place within a marriage. He knows he will have an arranged marriage when he’s older, and he comforts himself by thinking that when he does have sex, it’ll be with his wife, in the comfort of their own bedroom. He imagines the comfortable bed, the candles glowing on the nightstand and the door locked shut to prevent anyone else from seeing him like that.

And then… well then he turns 13 and Aegon decides that’s old enough and all but shoves him against a brothel worker.

He’s confused, he’s uncomfortable. The room is far too bright, he can see everything, and he knows she can see him. The bed is sparse, clearly only used for sex and never for sleep. And the brothel worker… she keeps on touching him? Her hands are all over him and he doesn’t even know how but suddenly he’s naked and her hands are tracing his scar and he’s so so exposed.

He hates it, he hates every minute of it. He’s thankful he didn’t last long because he didn’t want to stay there any longer than necessary.

He had heard the tales from Aegon about how good it feels, and how often Aegon disappears to the brothels so that he can have more than just his wife. Aemond never understand what he meant and now that he had lain with that brothel worker, he still doesn’t get it. Yes it did feel good, but it felt as good as using his hand and when he uses his hand, he’s in his own room with the door locked, he’s safe there. 

In the brothel, people kept on walking in. They were mostly just looking for an empty room but almost all of them paused their search to watch him and the madam for a few seconds before leaving.

Seeing them do that made him blush a deep red and the madam made a big fuss of how sweet and soft he is and chuckling as his embarrassment. Only he wasn’t feeling embarrassed, he was mortified. All those people had seen him like that, had seen him naked and exposed and they had laughed and watched, and very clearly were into it.

They were getting off to something that was supposed to be private and secure and… and honourable. There is nothing honourable about what the madam does to him.

By the time he walks out of the brothel he feels like he’s been scraped raw, like his very soul is sunburnt.

He never goes back, never even considers it. He hated that raw, exposed feeling and he never wanted it again, ever.

And then a few years later his mother introduces him to his future bride. He’s already dreading their wedding night, being plagued by dreams of the harshly lit brothel room.

But then his future wife seems so good? She asks before she can touch him, even the smallest of touches. When her hands are on him, she’s gentle and caring and… and protective?

They’re sitting in the library a few nights before the wedding when Aegon and his drunken mates come barrelling through. They taught Aemond, asking if he knows what to do on his wedding night.

Aemond stays silent while that awful raw feeling starts to rear its head. And then, then he hears your voice. You tell off Aegon and his mates, telling Aegon that he doesn’t get to talk about a husband pleasing their wife when he goes out drinking every night and leaves his own wife to an empty bed.

That shuts him up, and pretty quickly him and all his friends leave the library with their tails between their legs. Aemond, meanwhile, feels incredible. You not only just stood up for him, but you defended the sanctity of their soon to be marriage. Aemond doesn’t feel as exposed anymore.

He begins to wonder if perhaps the wedding night won’t he so bad after all.

[atopvisenyashill]

Is Lyanna really as terrible as some people portray her as?

no, not even a little bit.

the absolute most important thing about lyanna is that when she dies she is only 16. i am someone who works with kids - i work in a library so i spend most of my days cleaning up after tweens and asking teenagers to please stop doing dumb shit- and the first thing anyone who has ever worked with kids and especially teenagers is that they may look like adults but they are NOT. they don’t understand boundaries, they have next to zero impulse control, and every bad thing that happens feels like the worst thing ever because it very likely IS the worst thing they’ve ever experienced bc they have not been alive that long!

and this goes for every single teen & tween character in this series, not just lyanna! shit, i am someone who feels an immense amount of sympathy for joffrey! on one side he’s got his mother telling him he can do anything he wants with no repercussions and on the other he’s got his father hitting him so hard that stannis thought joffrey was going to die. and then he is given unchecked power and told not to abuse it! EYE cannot even guarantee that i wouldn’t use unchecked power to do shady shit and i am a fully grown adult, not a traumatized, irrationally, and deeply vindictive 13 year old boy.

but honestly the most important thing about lyanna is that we have ZERO CONTEXT for what happens between her and Rhaegar. What we have is

Ned’s sparse & guilt ridden thoughts about Lyanna and one (1) comment about Rhaegar

Robert’s angry, entitled, and grief ridden outbursts about Lyanna and Rhaegar

Barristan’s incredibly romanticized, guilt & grief ridden take on their relationship

Meera’s second hand account of Lyanna, told to her by a father who is likely just as guilt & grief ridden as the others, who likely has his own view of Lyanna

What’s important to note is that our view of her is heavily filtered through the eyes of the men that knew her. Robert loves an idealized version of her that never existed. Barristan never actually knew her. Ned is not only viewing her under 200 layers of guilt and grief, but very obviously does not understand his sister, or why she made the choices she did, and struggles constantly with knowing that he will never know her the way he wishes he could, the way he thought he did. Given the way Meera describes Lyanna, I actually think Howland is our most accurate look at her but even that is buried behind years of grief & a fair amount of hero worship and affection (“that’s my fathers man you’re kicking howled the she-wolf” is a line that makes me WEEP for this exact reason; Howland sees Lyanna as his hero above all else!).

All of that to say - we don't even know what Lyanna did that was so terrible! Even if she was a grown woman capable of making rational decisions, we have no idea what her decisions were. She could have been lied to, misled, kidnapped, threatened, just as surely as she could have walked into the situation with open eyes. Even in the show, with a slightly aged up Lyanna - we get, what, just Sam's opinion on Rhaegar and Lyanna being in love because they got hitched? Completely ignoring the fact that we had several women in this series get married not because they were in love or willing but because someone more powerful decided on it and that was that, so there's still no evidence that Lyanna had enough information about the situation to make any sort of informed, consensual decision.

so no, i do not hold lyanna responsible for anything at all that happened regardless of how it happened because she was not mentally mature enough to understand what the hell was going on. a 15 year old is just not mature enough to think “if i run off with this married man, it’s going to cause a cascade of political issues that could have disastrous consequences.” what she’s probably thinking is “this man says he can help me and i am fucking miserable and no one else will listen.” it’s why we don’t throw 15 year olds who run away to meet up with old dudes they met online in jail when they’re caught (or theoretically why we don’t punish them at any rate). There is one person and one person only who is responsible for the massive fuck up that is the Elia-Rhaenys-Aegon-Lyanna-Jon mess and that is RHAEGAR, the person with the most amount of power who used it in the dumbest way imaginable and got himself, most of his heirs, his wife, and his teenaged mistress killed. The only other people responsible are the Kingsguard who kept Lyanna under lock and key while she lay dying and pleading for her brother to come save her.

[daenerys-apolog1st]

It's literally insane how TG and Alicent Stans will see someone criticizing Alicent for things she's done and choices that she's actively made, and then they're only response is just- "she was groomed by Viserys! She was manipulated by her father! How dare you criticize her when she's a victim!" -and like...be so fucking serious.

Yes, in the show, Alicent is groomed by her father and Viserys, and her initial mistrust of Rhaenyra and support of Aegon's eventual usurpation was planted by her father's manipulations. However, that does not excuse the choices that she actively made as an adult and that also doesn't mean that she did not grow up to be an abuser herself and that she is above criticism.

She was an adult when she abused Rhaenyra for 10+ years, terrorized her family to the point where they left their home, spread rumors that she knew full well could get her and her children killed, and took every chance she could to humiliate and hurt her or the ones she loved.

She was an adult when she demanded that Rhaenyra's 5 second old newborn child be separated from their mother and brought to her, knowing full well that 1. Rhaenyra would likely bring the child herself because she would never allow her baby to be taken from her, 2. that Rhaenyra was terrified of childbirth and losing children because she watched her mother literally be killed by it and lost multiple siblings right after childbirth, and 3. that right after birth is a very delicate time for a baby and that demanding them be separated from the mother and paraded around the castle could put them in danger.

She was an adult when she filled her children's heads with the idea that their sister hated them and was going to kill them, separating them from the rest of their family and sowing hatred between them, and placing the idea of usurpation in their heads. Aegon outright says that he doesn't want the throne, that he doesn't want to challenge her, but Alicent forces him onto the throne anyway.

She was an adult when she did everything she could to protect her rapist son, including threatening a girl who he'd just raped and basically throwing her out of the castle, all the while it's heavily implied that he's raped girls before and she's done nothing about it but give him slaps on the wrist.

She was an adult when she betrothed her 13 year old daughter to said rapist son, therefore continuing the cycle of abuse that she once faced herself in her daughter---despite the fact that there were plenty of other perfectly good options for her daughter and she didn't have to do that.

She was an adult when she went after a 5 year old with a knife and tried to maim him over an accident instead of blaming the adults in the situation that were actually at fault for not watching the kids, an accident that---mind you---Aemond told her to stop freaking out over himself because he got a dragon out of it. But she ignored him and then proceeded to make him losing an eye all about herself with her little speech.

She was an adult when she heard that Larys Strong murdered his family, including the Hand of the King, and did absolutely nothing to bring him to justice and never told anyone else that could've done something---before then reaping the benefits of him murdering his family by having her father made Hand once again.

She was an adult when she was fucking the kingsguard that was supposed to be protecting her daughter and grandchildren, leading to no guards being around to protect them (Criston sent them all away), the night that her grandson was murdered. AND THEN worrying more about covering her own ass than her literal grieving daughter afterwards.

She was an adult when she offered up her son's head to Rhaenyra despite the fact that she was the one who forced her son on the throne in the first place, basically willing to sacrifice him to---again---cover her own ass.

And so much more throughout the course of the show.

Yes, Alicent was a victim, but that does not excuse her actions nor put her above criticism---being abused does not mean you cannot be an abuser yourself. At a certain point, the fact that she was a victim becomes obsolete in these conversations because---as an adult---she chose to do the things she did herself, and it's ridiculous to use the abuse she faced as a child as a scapegoat for every bad thing she's ever done.

Like, again, be so fucking serious.

[illyrianslut]

In His Arms - Azriel x Reader

Summary:

Isla went to Velaris with Rhys after UTM, but quite frequently has nightmares about what was done to her. Azriel is always there to aide when he can.

Warnings: (These will be chapter by chapter) nightmares, mention of past abuse

Word Count: 2.9k

Author's Note: (I totally changed this from an OG character to Y/N) This is part 1/?. This is my first ACOTAR fanfic! I've been writing fanfic for 13 years (fuck im old), so I'm super excited to finally be posting in the ACOTAR fandom<3 Ao3 Link

Masterlist | Ao3

 “Please don’t make me do this.” I beg, glancing between Amarantha and Rhysand. The fear forming in my stomach like a brick. “I’ll do anything else, please My Queen, I beg of you.” Amarantha’s grin only grows wider at my plea. Rhysand’s face is stone cold, hatred burns through me as I realize what’s about to happen.

“Search her, now.” Amarantha hisses at Rhysand. For the briefest of seconds pity seems to cross his face, but it’s gone in a second when I feel him begin digging through my thoughts.

​Memories of the fae I’d been sneaking out fill my mind, their faces and names being run through so quickly I can barely process it myself. Pretend this hurts. A thought that feels my own, but somehow belonging to someone else fills my mind. But I trust the thought, and bring myself to my knees letting out a pained scream.

Part of my acting feels real, the invasion of my privacy and the fear of what Amarantha will do to me once she finds out evokes a very real reaction from me. She is going to kill me.

“Well Rhysand?” She beckons, a bored almost annoyed tone surrounding her question. “Have I found my traitor?” The itch in my mind ceases, and something tells me now it is time to end my performance.

Rhysand watches me for a moment, almost like he is deciding something. But then he shakes his head “No.”

Amarantha’s head snaps from me to him. “What do you mean no?” She hisses “I’ve been informed that she” Another sharp glance in my direction “has been helping other slaves to escape.” I hate that word.

“You’ve been informed wrong, she has no knowledge on the escaped slaves.” Rhysand tells her calmly, his neutral expression still on me. “You should bring the liars in at once to be questioned.” Rhysand sounds bored, almost annoyed that he’d even been brought here. I stand up slowly, looking between Rhysand and Amarantha trying to figure out what was going on. Is he lying for me? Why would he do that?

A hum from Amarantha, I glance up at her on her dais realizing that I may get out of this situation alive. Maybe not unharmed, but at least alive. Thanks to Rhysand, Amarantha’s whore. His gaze snapped to me, a look of annoyance. I just saved your life, do you think it’s wise to be using those words right now? Rhysand’s voice floods my mind and I have to hold back the fear shooting through me, that he had heard me.

“I suppose you’re right. Twenty lashings for the girl so she knows to keep her mouth shut about the escapees. And make sure they leave a mark so everyone knows.” Amarantha sounds proud of herself at the idea.

“No!” I shriek, whipping my head to the Attor who is stalking towrds me, an evil grin spread across his disgusting face. “Please, don’t do this My Queen! I will keep quiet, please!” I beg just as the Attor grabs my arm to hold my in place for my punishment.

My shirt is ripped off by the Attor, and a leather whip appears in his hand. “I’ve been waiting to see you break.” He whispers in my ear.

I shoot up in bed, a scream escaping my lips at the memory of my first real interaction with Rhysand. I can still feel the burn of the twenty strikes inflicted on my back. “It’s over.” I remind myself, wiping the sweat from my forehead.

A hurried knock comes from my door, Azriel surely as we are the only two currently residing in the townhouse. “Sorry Az, I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.” I call, scolding myself for waking him.

“May I come in?” He asks, sounding distressed from the other side of the door.

“Yeah come on in.” My chest is still heaving slightly from the adrenaline, but I know he wont rest until he knows I’m really okay.

He opens the door and I take in his disheveled hair, worried expression and then much to my personal satisfaction, his shirtless body. He may be one of my best friends, but I would be blind to not notice how beautiful this man is. “Hi.” He says gently, looking me over as if assessing for physical injuries.

“Hi.” I smile up at him as he walks closer to my bed.

“May I sit?” He gestures to my bed, and I scoot over leaving a space for him to sit beside me. “Did you have a bad dream?”

I give him a nod and sigh, getting ready to spill my guts. “It was when I first met Rhys.” My voice shakes, despite how hard I’m trying to pull myself together. I think of the twenty raised marks staining my back and feel the tears well in my eyes. “Sorry, I know it’s dumb to cry over it still.” I insist, wiping at the tears just as they begin to spill out.

His expression shifts at my admission. Rhys and I had made a promise to each other when we got out that we wouldn’t talk about what we went through with the others. But there were times when it felt impossible to not talk about those things. “I know you wont tell me, but I am here for you. If you ever need to talk about what you went through. I know Rhysand made you promi-”

“No.” I stop him, it wasn’t Rhys’s idea to promise anything. It had been mine, but he seemed a lot better at keeping his secrets in than I ever had been. “Rhys didn’t make me. It was my idea, Az. It’s just, sometimes I want to word vomit everything I did and went through. But I know it wouldn’t fix anything.” It was the truth, it’s the only thing holding me to that promise with Rhys.

Of course he had shared a lot, probably everything if I’m honest, with Feyre. But that’s different, she’s his mate. Maybe one day if I ever find my mate I would feel different, but cauldron knows how rare a mating bond is.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Azriel frowns, “I just meant-” He shakes his head, but when he looks back his eyes land on a scar wrapped around my shoulder. I freeze, and feel a twinge of panic in my stomach, but I focus on his shadow that rises slowly to the scar and caresses it gently. I can’t help but think of the first time he saw my scars, and how angry he had been.

~

The Summer Court had been just as beautiful as Feyre had described, maybe even more so. But I still can’t help the excitement of seeing Azriel for the first time in two weeks. He is by far my closest friend, much to Mor’s annoyance, and two weeks without him was hard.

Knowing that he wont be home at this hour, I decide to bathe and get the sweat from being in perpetual summer off my body. My room is just as I left it, and I can’t help but smile at the lights turning on as I walk in. Home.

I tear my shirt off, tossing it to the ground and heading for the attached bathing room. I’m attempting to pull my pants off when my door swing open, and a stunned Azriel is on the other side. In my shock I don���t know which part of my body to sheild from him, so I threw one arm over my boobs, and turn away from him.

The second I do it I hear the audible gasp from Azriel, and my body goes cold. “Get out!” I yell, tears filling my eyes, knowing Azriel has now seen the worst part of me.

“Who did this to you?” His voice sends a chill down my spine, but I still can’t bring myself to move in my frozen state.

“Azriel. Get. Out!” I hiss, feeling my body begin to shake. I’m going to be sick. I run to the bathing room, in an attempt to get away from his line of sight. Why isn’t he leaving?

“Y/N. Who did that.” I’ve never heard his tone like this, filled with such venom. His shadows enter the bathing room, and my shirt is dropped next to me. Before I can throw it on, the shadows begin roaming over my back as if exploring the raised skin.

The Attor’s wicked grin fogs my memory, and I can hear my pulse in my ears. The whipping sound fills my ears, the smell of the leather surrounds me. Rhys. And my back, I can feel the scars burning like it’s happening all over again.

Arms wrap around me, making me I feel like I’m floating. I look up to see Azriel looking down at me, fear flooding his eyes. “Y/N, talk to me. Can you hear me?” His voice sounds far away, like it’s being covered by the sound of the cracking whip, but I nod anyway.

I can feel the shaking, my whole body is shaking but I can’t stop it. “Y/N what can I do? I’m so sorry.” I’m set down onto something soft, but I instantly miss the warmth his body had been providing. My body feels void of warmth right now, ice cold. It doesn’t help the shaking.

Everything is going to change now.

“I need R-Rhys.” I hear a broken voice say. Was that me?

Hurt flashes through his eyes for the quickest of seconds but the next thing I remember is Rhys and Feyre being there. Azriel is gone. “Y/N. You need to breathe.” I hear a familiar voice instruct. I look around, attempting to figure out who, but they’re both just looking at me expectantly. “Can you hear me?” Is the voice above me?

I look up and realize I am wrapped tightly around Azriel’s waist. I nod, I can hear him. “Breathe. You aren’t breathing.” I pity the sadness haunting his beautiful face, am I causing that?

“What happened exactly?” I hear Feyre’s voice, but she sounds so far away. I turn to look where she had been and she’s still there. Why is everyone so far away?

“I-I didn’t meant to. I didn’t know she was home. I came in and she was-” Azriel pauses when I turn my attention to him. No. He can’t tell her. Nobody can know. “Changing.” He finishes.

“Oh.” Rhys tone changes. I glance at him, pleading silently that he wont make me, make us, relive that moment again. I begin shaking my head quickly, hoping he will understand my plea. “I understand, Az I think I can handle this.”

Azriel’s body stiffens in my arms “I’m not leaving her.” Suddenly the harsh tone from earlier is back, and I feel an arm tighten around my shoulders. Az? I turn my head to look at the hand and see his scarred hand rubbing gently. “Don’t you dare ask me to leave her while she’s like this.” Rhys looks to Feyre, clearly having a silent conversation.

I only focus on Az’s hand, willing the comfort of it to bring me back to the present fully.

“Azriel, will you come with me? I think this may be one of the times Rhys and Y/N need just each other.” Feyre looks at Azriel, pity written all over her face.

Just as Azriel is about to say no, Rhys looks to him with the face of the High Lord of the Night Court. “Azriel. You’ve done enough here, now go.” Just like that, the hand that had been bringing me comfort is gone, and I am being unwrapped from him. Then I watch him walk out of the room with Feyre, looking back at me like I’m broken.

I curl into a ball on the bed, soaking in the warmth from where he had been. I didn't want him to leave. I wanted him here. Buy why? “Was it your back he saw?” Rhys asks, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

~

Two years had passed and we had never spoken of what happened that day again. He still doesn’t know who caused those scars. I’m sure he has made his assumptions, but we both knew I wasn’t ready for that conversation. Assuming I ever would be.

“I just meant that you can talk to me if you ever want to, is all” He finishes his sentence, glancing back at the visible scar.

I reach to the end of the bed and grab the throw blanket there, wrapping it around my back to hide the scars that show with this damn top. The shadow that had been settling over the scar drifted back to him, hovering at his ear for a moment before dropping away.

“Are they giving up all my secrets?” I try to laugh, but truth be told there’s a part of me that is worried they’ll somehow know just from touching it who caused those marks.

“They enjoy you too much to tell me your secrets.” I can feel the truth behind his words, his soft smile is reassuring. “As much as I want to know Y/N you have to know I would never invade your privacy like that.” He almost sounds as though he is begging me to agree with him.

“I know you wouldn’t.” I admit, “I wasn’t so sure about these ones.” I giggle when the shadows reach out, and hover around my hair- their preferred location to situate on me.

I can feel the oncoming panic attack begin to subside in his presence. “Was it a dream of what happened,” He pauses for a moment “Under the Mountain?”

I chance looking him in the eye, his gaze is already fixed on my face and I can’t help but blush at the intensity. “Yes.” I admit, looking away.

“Will you tell me about it?” I know he doesn’t mean to pressure me, that it’s not his intention. But the idea of actually telling someone about what I went through down there? It sends a shiver down my spine.

“I want to, Az. I just can’t.” I finally say after a few heartbeats of silence.

“Will you ever?” The question catches me off guard, he sounded so desperate, almost like he was pleading with me to trust him with the most private part of my life.

“I don’t know, I’ve just always told myself that I wouldn’t talk about it with anyone. I mean maybe if I ever mated someone, but it’s a lot, Az. If I told you, you would never see me the same.” I feel bad avoiding the no I want to say, but I also don’t know if I would mean it. There might come a day that I trust myself enough to open up, but I can’t chance him hating me. Not yet.

“Y/N, mated couples are rare, and you know it. What’s your plan keep it to yourself for the rest of your life?” I play with a tendril of shadow that’s hovering around my fingers. When I look up to meet his gaze again I almost break. I know he wants to help me with what I went through, but I’m just not ready.

“I’m not ready Az, but if I ever am I promise it’ll be you I come to.” The corner of his mouth rises slightly.

“That’s all I can ask for, I suppose. Are you going back to bed?” The question catches me off guard, but I shake my head.

“I can’t ever fall back asleep after I’ve had a nightmare. I’ll probably be up for the day.” I shrug at the inconvenience of it. It’s become a semi regular occurrence, usually a couple times a month.

“It’s hardly past midnight, are you sure? Why don’t you lay down? I’ll stay in here with you.” I cock my head at his suggestion, but it may not be the worst idea. “I’ll sit over there, I lost a bet with Nesta the other day anyway. I have to read one of her books.” He chuckles, nodding his head to the chair in the corner of my room.

“No Az, uh” I only give the thought a moment before it’s out of my lips. “just lay in bed with me. You being here probably will help, but there is no sense in chancing both of us not sleeping tonight.” What did I just say? My eyes widen at the offer I’d just extended. “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that I guess.” I rub the back of my neck.

He gives me my favorite Azriel smile, his goofy grin that meets his eyes. “Deal. Lay down.” He nods behind me.

I take the blanket off my shoulders, avoiding his gaze as I do so, and lay down facing him. “Your turn, Spymaster.” I tease, knowing he hates when I call him that. But he obliges, laying down draping his wings behind him.

Without either of us saying a word, the lamp that had turned on when he entered the room goes out. The moonlight filtering through the window gives me a clear view of him.

I can’t see them, but I feel his shadows hovering over the scarred shoulder that shown with my tank top. “You do know I will ruin whoever did that to you, don’t you?” He whispers, his fingers reach out and gently brush over the scarred skin.

That’s what I’m afraid of.

[suzukiblu]

Tim?

Tim did not actually mean to kidnap an alternate reality's version of Kon.

In his defense, he'd had very limited time in that reality and everything in it had been going to shit and . . . well, everything in it had been going to shit.

Also, Lex Luthor had been a lot more heavily involved in that particular reality's Cadmus, and fuck it if Tim was ever going to leave any version of Kon with that bastard.

With any bastard who could ever look at Kon and call him "it".

"Ow," Tim grunts into the dirty pavement of what he hopes is his own Gotham as blood drips out of his mouth, and feels Kon's fingertips brush very, very tentatively against his back. He's a little too dizzy to lift his head, but he figures it doesn't matter. Like it's just . . . it's fine. They're not in Cadmus and Kon is safe and Tim is . . . conscious, at least, which means he can work with the situation.

Whatever the situation actually is, anyway.

Kon's hands flatten against his back, which is a very familiar tell, and Tim immediately feels the even more familiar embrace of TTK wrapping him up.

Less familiar is the impulse to find said embrace adorable, but in Tim's defense, this Kon is physiologically about ten years old and so far every single thing he's done has been either adorable or heartbreaking or some terrible combination of the two.

"Robin?" Kon asks anxiously. "You're okay, right?"

"M'okay," Tim mumbles blurrily, because it's more or less true. More blood drips out of his mouth and splatters on the pavement. "All okay. S'fine. You hurt?"

"No," Kon says, still sounding nervous. "Dunno where we are, though."

"Should be Gotham," Tim says, forcing himself to lift his head enough to check and nearly laughing as he recognizes their surroundings as the exact part of Crime Alley that he got interdimensionally yanked out of seventy-six hours ago. "Yeah. Gotham."

He pushes himself up enough to look over at Kon. Kon looks very small crouched down next to him with buzzed-down hair, barefoot in pristine white lab scrubs with a shiny metal cuff stamped with an identification number locked around his wrist. "13" features prominently on it.

Tim wants to melt it into slag.

"Is it your Gotham?" Kon asks.

"No clue, but I'm hoping," Tim says. He thinks about getting to his feet but he's pretty sure he'd throw up if he tried. Or fall over. Or both?

Probably both, at this point.

Oh well, he figures, and pushes himself up. He doesn't vomit, surprisingly, although he is very definitely sure that Kon's TTK is the only thing keeping him from falling over.

No reason to look that particular gift horse in the mouth, Tim decides.

"I need coffee," he says as he gives Kon's shoulder an appreciative pat, because the caffeine withdrawal is real. Also he needs medical attention, probably, but also-also he needs to come up with either a cover story for the ER or an explanation for Bruce and therefore caffeine can't hurt.

"Uh, okay," Kon says skeptically. "I don't think Starbucks or anything is gonna be open right now, though, it's pretty late."

"God, what did Cadmus teach you, kid," Tim says despairingly, making a face at the thought. "Starbucks is a punishment from God. We're going to the nearest twenty-four diner and I'm ordering roofing tar. And we're getting you a hot chocolate. Do you want a hot chocolate?"

". . . yeah," Kon says, biting his lip. "Um. I mean, I dunno if I'd like it, though."

"If you don't like it, we'll get you something else," Tim says. "But I haven't slept or eaten properly since I left my reality and I need coffee before it becomes a legitimate medical emergency."

"Shouldn't you get, like, real food, then?" Kon asks skeptically. "Not just coffee?"

"Coffee is food," Tim lies reflexively.

". . . I don't think it is," Kon says, squinting up at him suspiciously. "Are you taking advantage of me being too stupid to know if coffee's food or not?"

". . . we can get something to go," Tim says, wishing he'd blown up a bit more of Cadmus on his way out of that fucking cesspool of a reality. "You're not stupid. Luthor can choke on a fucking cactus for all the shit he kept saying to you."

"I mean, I didn't come out right," Kon says uncomfortably. "I'm not as smart as Dadd–as Lex is. Or as Superman was."

Tim pretends that Kon wasn't about to say "Daddy" for both their sakes. Just . . . yeah. At least for the moment, anyway.

Luthor was a lot more heavily involved in that Cadmus.

And horrifyingly.

Tim tries not to think about the way that Luthor had kept touching Kon. All the little too-deliberate points of contact he'd made time and again and too often.

Much too often.

Tim hadn't seen anyone else even so much as enter Kon's personal space the entire time he'd been in that godforsaken lab, and every single time that Luthor had made a gesture like he might touch him, Kon had tensed in something that couldn't decide between being fear or anticipation.

It'd made Tim want to burn the whole fucking lab and every single LexCorp-owned building he could find to the ground.

He'd settled for interdimensionally kidnapping Kon and destroying all of Cadmus's systems and DNA samples as thoroughly as possible. C-4 had been involved.

A lot of C-4 had been involved.

Possibly that had been a slight overreaction, but fuck if Tim cares. Just–Clark had still been dead, and Cassie hadn't had powers and Bart hadn't been in the time period and Tim himself hadn't even existed, for whatever reason, and apparently neither had Cissie or Greta or Anita or Slobo, and Bruce had already had his hands full with Damian and Dick had been off-planet and Jason had also still been dead and just–

Options had been limited, alright?

Options had been limited, and by that point Tim hadn't had time to go check and see what the Kents were up to or track down Lois Lane or Jimmy Olsen or even just tip off the Justice League or the Titans, because by that point he'd been in an examination room with a Lex Luthor who was stroking a frightened Kon's face with one hand while holding a syringe that was glowing kryptonite-green with the other and Tim had just . . . he'd just made some choices at that point, okay?

He'd made some very decisive choices.

And some very decisive commitments.

Or at least one very decisive commitment, anyway.

[lapdogchase]

ok story before bed time. everyone gather around

you are me at age 13. you are an 8th grader who just realized he likes girls and recently had a gender crisis in the home depot lighting aisle. it is november of 2016, and trump has run for president for the first time. you are watching the map change over your dad's shoulder. you aren't really sure how it works yet but you are seeing a lot of red on there and you are very frightened. you just found out you have free will, like, last year, and you are only beginning to grasp the gravity of the situation- the situation being the united states of america in general- and it already is looking very bad.

when you wake up in the morning your dad tells you trump has won. he's too happy about it. you're skipping breakfast to make the bus in time. the sun's barely risen, btw, but you are 13 so you have little to no autonomy or rights, so you are in the fluorescent-light torment-nexus they call a "middle school" by 7:45am on the dot.

you see your friend as you're walking to your homeroom. he's a fellow gay emo middle schooler, he sucks, and he really likes to guilt-trip you into skipping class to hang out with him by telling you he's going to kill himself if you don't. you have other qualms with him, but this illustrates enough. he says hi, you say hi, there is a sort of thick dread in the air despite barely anyone in the building being old enough to vote and most everyone completely baffled by the concept of the "electoral college."

he asks how you're feeling. you say bad, and he agrees.

he looks you in the eyes and puts both his hands on your shoulders. he says, "don't worry about gay marriage. they can't get rid of it."

you don't say anything; he doesn't give you a chance to.

"i ran into the senate at subway yesterday and i asked them. and they said trump can't repeal gay marriage."

you do not know much about the government. you are not quite sure what a senator is. however, you know there are one hundred of them. you also know that the only subway in your little corner of maine is very small- there's, like, three booths to sit in. only a few people can even get in line to order at a time. you were born recently but you are able to draw some conclusions here:

1) there is absolutely no way that subway could fit 100 people inside of it at all,

2) there is no reason that the entire senate would be in a little town in maine the night after the election,

and 3) this guy is making shit up again, more than anyone's ever made shit up in their life.

you say, "okay. that's good." you are aware that gay marriage is not the only thing to be worried about, here. you are aware that this guy lies recreationally and it is not worth arguing the matter.

"isn't that great?" he asks. it is not great.

you go to homeroom and you do not stand for the pledge of allegiance (you never stand for it again). you go to pre-algebra. you listen to my chemical romance instead of paying attention. you go to english class, you go to study hall, you go to lunch. you go to social studies and your teacher lets you and your other gay friend (who doesn't suck and in fact you have crush-adjacent feelings for them) sit out in the hall to talk about the election, because you asked nicely. they do not try to tell you that they ran into the entire senate at subway.

you think about this interaction several times a month through the next two election seasons. you are a 21 year old man and you are still thinking about this. you are still imagining ways the entire senate could cram themselves into this tiny subway. you regularly share this story with new friends because you just cannot stop fucking thinking about it. he ran into the entire senate at a tiny little subway in maine at 7 in the morning. and they said gay rights were safe forever.