#i guess he have a mind of his own because it just happened

[dcxdpdabbles]

Do you think you might update the Adopted Son Au soon, maybe ?🤔 i just can't with that cliffhanger, i need to know what happened next.

Plz

Dick trying to figure out how he is going to escape from his cell when the door opens again. This time, it's not Drake but a group of children who walk in without saying a word.

They surround him, and Dick prepares himself for some torture when one of them presses a button on a controller, releasing him from the retrains, keeping him trapped in the chair.

The metal slides off his wrists and ankles, allowing him to flip up from his seat and away from the group. He wobbles a little, having gone a few weeks without much exercise or movement due to his bad mental state.

He can still take them to the ground, but he won't be at his best, which irks him fiercely. It will also make this fight a lot more dangerous. Surprisingly, the children don't react to his flip or fighting stance.

They stare at him with blank expressions, the single light swinging back and forth as Dick had anciently hit the edge of it with his hip. Four of them are cramped into the surprisingly small room, but none look like they are there for a fight.

Dick frowns. "What's going on?"

" You didn't have Danny, "the oldest one, the boy the Parkers had apparently been taking in, says. "We have no reason to keep you."

"What, you going to let me go? Just like that?" The disbelief drips from his words as he tightens his fist, searching for the surprise attack that will surely come.

"Just like that." The boy agrees, clapping his hands. A little girl throws a bag at Dick, who catches it in an instant. The thing is heavy, but it doesn't feel like a weapon. The teenager claps again, and suddenly, the ground underneath him vanishes.

Dick is free-falling before he knows what's happening. The rush of the wind nearly drowns out his screaming as he tumbles downwards. He watches the apparent cargo plan hangar close as the children stare at his descent.

Twisting around and trying to get his wits about him, Dick realizes he doesn't have a lot of time to figure out what to do because he is far above the ground. He will not survive hitting it. The bag in hand beeps before it springs open.

Wire cords warp around his torso, yanking him to the side so the bag can rest on his back. Another beep goes through before a loud whoosh can be heard, and Dick's body jerks again as a parachute bursts to life from the bag.

He gasps as it catches the wind once it fully opens, stopping his free fall into a gentle flouting. Dick's heart is hammering away in his chest, even when he starts the breathing exercises Bruce taught him to keep calm. He glances up at the plane, but it shimmers out of sight once a clocking device is activated.

He can only guess which direction it ran away in. It must be one of Crowne's inventions.

A few minutes go by when he falls some clouds- and it stings to feel the water bit dig into his skin.- before he finally realizes where he is. Drake had him thrown right over Wayne Manor. The little shit.

Carefully testing the turning cords, Dick realizes that they are much simpler to drive and directions his landing towards the ground behind the Manor. He is nearly there when a flash of red races out of the window, aiming right for him.

"Dick!" Kori shouts, wrapping her arms around him. He sighed gratefully and said she was mindful of the parachute. His friend tucks him into her arms, one hand under his knees, the other on his upper back, and flies him safely back down. "You're okay! We were so worried when you vanished."

"How long was I gone?"

"Just one day. What happened?"

Wow, Drake doesn't mess around. It was alarming that he could not only take him from his own room but return him without any of the Bats being the wiser. "Let's get everyone grouped up. This is going to need some explanations."

The two fly through the same window Kori was excited about. The minute Dick's feet touch the floor, the bag beeps and unclips, yanking the fabric up his parachute back into the little bag as it slides off his shoulders.

Crowne would be so excited that it works so smoothly. He thinks almost wistfully.

"Dick!" Jason yells, racing forward to throw his arms around Dick's middle. Not far behind, Damian joins them though he seems more willing to hold onto Jason rather than Dick.

"Hey guys." He mutters, bending down to hug back. "Sorry about the scare."

"Dick," Bruce's baritone voice has him snapping his head up. There, he realizes his family and the teen titans are all sitting around a conference table, papers scattered in front of the relieved people. A large screen was sitting behind Bruce, displaying the latest news in the Crowne trial. "What happened?"

Dick takes a deep breath, locks everything that man him, the fun circus child, in a tight box inside his chest. When he opens his eyes again, all that's left is Nightwing.

"Let me tell you," And he does

A while later, Dick learns that while no one had known where he had gone, they had all been able to find enough proof that Dick was taken. It had left everyone in great unease, especially Bruce, who had always been proud of the Manor's defenses.

They were in the middle of discussing Timothy Drake's new danger level when the noise of the reporting news anchor cut off mid-sentence. The image changes from a business street of Gotham's police headquarters, where Daniel Crowne is said to be held, to a dark room with a person wearing a glowing green skull mask.

The person is sitting at a table, the angle getting them from the chest up. They wear a hood that does not hide their black wavy hair, curling around their ears. As the camera focuses, the figure plays with a piece of it.

Everyone at the table tenses up as the person speaks. They use some voice modifier that disrupts the words, making it sound robotic -it's hard to tell whether it's a boy or a girl. The body shape, however, points to them being young. "People of Gotham. I have taken control of this and every screen within the city to speak to you about Daniel Crowne. Many of you have cheered the last few days over his imprisonment, unaware of the hero he was. Tonight, I wish to enlighten you. Watch and repent."

"Where is this broadcasting from?" Bruece demands at once. Babs is already tapping away on her Crowne laptop, attempting to track down the signal.

"I don't know. It's bouncing from all over the city." She huffs.

On the screen, the stranger continues. Dick thinks he knows who that is. He recognizes the mindless habit of playing with the hair near the right side of his neck. "That's Drake."

At his words, everyone tenses even further.

"It's true Crowne broke the law. He took it into his own hands when CPS failed to protect the children they claimed they worked for, much like a specific group of Bats." Drake continues, tapping one finger on the surface of his table. "Unlike them, Crowne kept a record of everything he's done. I will present it all to you."

The screen changes to show documents, videos of abuse victims, and some testimony of missing children. For an hour, every screen showcases everything Daniel Crowne has done since he appeared from his adoption. The Waynes and the Titians are left in awe by the sheer amount of evidence that showcases.....Crowne saving children.

Dick legs give out under him some time around the proof of the Foster system failing children and how Crowne had personally swooped in to save them. None of it is legal, but no one cares.

Not when Heather Gobb's case is shown that she has been locked up in juvie for years for being a poor orphan. Not when her neighbors' old video of them pleading with the public to find information on her is shown, as they had thought she had gone missing five years ago and were still looking for her today.

Not when Max Smith- the same one that released him- case of being a human traffic victim was rescued and given to the Parkers. The Parkers had been rejected five times as foster parents due to their age. But the Martinez another case shown here- was even after three different girls reported sexual assault.

Every contact. Every move. Every single street kid is given a home. All of it was shown here, even the way he did it. Daniel Crowne was a hero.

"No," Dick gasps, watching the proof of Danny secretly busting trafficking rings and helping the victims find their way home. He had worked on one of those cases. Cindy, a fifteen-year-old girl, had been secretly rescued when a tip came through. Among her bags was a map of the rest of the cages that she claimed she had never before seen.

Crowne- Danny- had planted it.

The tears are rolling down his face, blurring everything in sight, but Dick can't look away. His chest feels like it's caving in as memory after memory plays behind his eyes.

Memories of the man he betrayed.

Drake, in his eerie glowing skull costume, returns. "That was who Daniel Crowne was. I speak in the past tense because his body had been discovered earlier today. He was found stuffed into a waste bin near Gotham's dump. A funeral will be held for the public in a week within Gotham Park at this same time, open casket, and he will be buried with honor somewhere no one can reach him. It will be the only time to say goodbye."

Dick feels like his world has shattered. The room starts to spin; multiple people are speaking, but he can barely hear them over the roaring in his ears.

He can only see Drake's green glow as the boy continues. "Lastly, I have a message for Officer Lucas Black of the 99th. We know what you did, and as much as I want to end you, he wouldn't have wanted that. Instead we will send you a gift. She was found in the last ring Crowne managed to track down. Protect her well this time. And never forgive yourself for what you did to her savior."

The screen cuts. Dick turns to the side, throwing up until nothing but acid comes out. His friends and family gather around him, trying their best to offer him comfort, but they can do nothing.

Danny is dead. He's gone, and he never even knew it was Dick that helped kill him.

_________________________________________________________

Life is a blur, worse than when he had Danny arrested. Dick isn't even sure he's alive. Bruce and the rest of the police have managed to verify all of the presented evidence. Crowne had legally kidnapped children, but no one could claim him a monster.

It was like the city was collectively drowning in guilt and mourning. Not even the rest of the Rouges dared to cause trouble. For the first time in centuries, Gotham was experiencing a cease-fire, and peace fell upon the civilians.

It hadn't stopped raining since Danny's death, almost as if Gotham herself was sobbing for the loss.

Dick had never felt this empty before, not even at the lost of his parents. He had nothing, no one to be angry at as Drake had covered every track of Danny's killer.

A single letter with a glowing green ghost circled around the familiar D arrived at Wayne Manor the day following the broadcast. All it read was You will never find out who took him. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered.

Bruce was working non-stop to bring Danny's killer to justice, but there was even less to go on than the death of Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Somehow, he finds himself getting dressed for Daniel Crowne's funeral. Jason and Damian help him walk out of his room, wearing black, and into the car. Bruce is riding in the passenger seat while Alfred is driving.

They had forgone the expensive vehicles and instead rode in a small black car. This was not an event that needed a showy entrance.

The drive is long and silent. Pity and pain make him almost choke, as none of the other four seem to know what to say. They only glance at him, looking torn up.

Bruce is the worst. He likely blames himself for the whole honey pot plot, and Dick wants to blame him, wants to lash out and rage against his father, but he can't.

He had agreed to the plan. Dick had been the one who went to Danny's office, the one who held him and spoke to him. The one that stole kisses and whispered sweet nothings.

The one that falls in love with the person he destroyed.

Dick stares out the window, wishing he was sobbing like he had been just a few days ago. He wishes he could feel the headache of dehydration from all the tears he cried. Anything other than this numbing pain that rests on his chest and keeps him from feeling anything.

His eyes have remained dry since he heard the news of Danny's passing. What kind of monster did that make him?

"Dick..." Bruce tries, but his words fall short. With a start, the first Robin realizes they are at the park. The car had been parked, and everyone was outside waiting for him.

He unclips his belt, stepping out and ignoring the hand Bruce offers him. All of Gotham has come for Daniel Crowne. There are so many marching by in black clothing. Some are sobbing, others are whispering, but all Dick sees is a sea of strangers that once cheered for his death.

Who are you? He thinks as his family walks into the park. Did any of you even know him?

A nasty voice sneers in his mind. Did you know him, Grayson?

Jason's warm palm slides into Dick's, helping him to the front where some seats had been put aside for those that were personally saved by Danny. Drake wanted them front and center; he had sent a message with a confused Sparrow.

Damian now seemed to regret presenting the letter as he held Jason with getting Dick to sit.

The coffin was surrounded by flower arrangements and shoes—the ones from the people he had saved. Some adult sizes were mixed in, but the majority were of children—it didn't seem real.

None of this does.

But Danny is gone, and Dick can not cry.

Next to the Waynes sits Officer Black, who is sobbing so hard it sounds like his chest is being cut apart. His sister is holding him, crying into his shoulder and whispering assurances.

The Ghosts- a new group that has risen in place of Crowne's fall- had delivered her home mere minutes after the Broadcast. She had received free treatment in one of Crowne Corp's hospitals outside of Gotham. She, along with seventeen other victims, had been personally rescued by Daniel Crowne only a month before.

Dick was happy for them. After years of being apart, the Blacks were finally whole once more.

Phantom- the head of Ghosts- walks up to a podium. His glowing green skull mask hides his expression from the crowd, but Dick can see how hard it is for Drake to stand there and speak.

"Gotham is no stranger to tragedy. We live with grief and joy. We dine with hope and sorrow. We walk with fate and death. In the five years since his arrival, Daniel Crowne had done everything he could to protect Gotham without asking for anything in return. He was deeply devoted to those he loved, and though not religious, he believed in Gotham." Drake says, addressing the crowd. "He found the flame of hope in the darkness of Gotham's streets. He stood tall when others lay broken by her crushing weight, bearing the burden of her attention. His mind illuminated that darkness, his heart warmed those in the cold wind, and with every fiber of his being, Danny fought for the betterment of mankind. His inventions saved thousands and have carved history with a chisel of his own making. We say goodbye to our cherished brother, friend, and noble son stolen from us far too soon. Remember him for the life he lived and not the violence he suffered. Daniel Crowne may no longer be able to walk with us, but his spark will forever live within us."

Drake pauses, turns to the coffin, and places a flower inside of it. "May you find the peace you were searching for, Brother."

Dick bows his head feeling tears gather in his eyes, but none spill over as Drake encourages everyone to pray in whatever belief they hold and allows people to go up to offer their own flowers, stones, or gifts. His line is the first to go up, but he can't move. His legs feel like lead, shaking his head when Bruce whispers his name.

Officer Black passes him, clutching his sister's hand as they walk to Danny's coffin. To his body. It's odd.

Danny is of that wooden stature, but nothing is in it—it's just a box. Officer Black placed his badge inside, whispering that he was leaving the force. Dick is close enough that he can hear his sister adding a ring that Danny had given her when he visited her during her recovery and wonders how bright Danny's smile might have been to see the siblings together again.

The funeral continued, with a long queue of people wishing to say their final goodbyes. Dick sat through the whole thing, aware of time passing but not entirely sure what was happening around him.

All too soon and not fast enough, the service ends. The Phantom claps his hands. A significant plane shifts into view, and its cloaking device falls. It lowers a platform as some Ghosts carefully lift the coffin.

The pallbearers march onto the plane's platform as a haunting melody bleeds into the air. With a start, Dick realizes it's an instrumental cover of their song, the one Danny and he used to dance and sing to. Danny had been playing it the day they were unpacking his home before Dick had found the journals that same night.

Drake really wants him to suffer, doesn't he?

No one speaks as the group rises into the air, taking with them Daniel Crowne. The plane vanishes from sight once more, and slowly, everyone tickles home. Gotham's rain—absent for the funeral—returns just as the Waynes manage to get into their car.

The drive home was even shorter than the one to the event. His family tries to speak to him, but Dick hears nothing. He merely walks up to his room and crashes on his bed.

Exhaustion, one deeper than his very bones, drags him under. He's out before Bruce can find the courage to enter his room.

_________________________________________________________

He's not sure if it's a dream or not, but the next thing Dick knows, he's blinking his eyes open to a soft white glow. His eyes are drawn to the bottom of his bed, where a figure sits on its edge, hunched over and staring at its hands.

His breath caught in his throat, causing the person to turn towards him. He looked different. His green eyes were glowing like a light was lit behind his eyeballs. His hair was snowy white, and his body seemed nearly transparent, but there was no denying who it was.

"Danny" The name is spoken like a gospel.

The love of his life smiles at him in that same adoring way. It feels like a slap and a hug all in one. "Hello Darling"

He stares, unsure of what to do, until he blurts, "You're dead."

Danny throws his head back in a familiar, impish laugh. It's the one, only Dick, had been privy to, as his boyfriend had always been so regal laughing loudly seemed to be against his very image.

Danny crawls from the bottom of the bed, still laughing, until he lays right next to Dick, who can't stop staring at him. Once he settled, the two were mere inches away, staring into each other's eyes as if they could drink each other's features.

"Yes," Danny's voice is soft as freshly fallen snow. "I'm dead. I never thought about that happening. A part of me always hoped I wouldn't form a complete ghost when my time would come. It's rather silly when you consider Dan."

"Ghost?"

Glowing green eyes soften just a bit as a cold- never will it be warm again- hand wraps around his own. Dick can hardly believe he can feel the hold as he continues to stare. "Yes, Darling, I'm a ghost."

"I'm sorry," He whispers, and then a sorrow overcomes him. Dick feels his eyes water faster than anything this past week. Silent tears rolled down his face as he choked, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"Oh, Darling." Danny comes, reaching out to wipe his tears away. "I don't blame you. I love you."

"Danny you can't love me. You don't know what I did."

"I do know. You were a honey pot to find evidence of me trafficking children." Danny says as if though nothing. As if Dick hadn't betrayed him to the very core of their relationship. "I'm hurt by it, but I do not hate you for it. You were doing the same thing I was. Trying to protect children; after all, I did make thousands vanish. It looked suspicious."

"If I had been a better detective, I would have found the truth." Dick insisted, self-hate clouding his words.

Danny sighs, tracing the side of his cheek. "No, you wouldn't. Darling, you and Bruce had spent months investigating me without finding anything that could tie me to the case before you had the idea of the Honey Pot. I ensured no one would have found the truth unless they got close. I didn't even tell Tim. He just found out on his own."

Dick's tears flow faster. "I could have done more."

"I could have told you," Danny counters, smiling sadly. But to do so, I would have to tell you about my Halfa status, and I was never quite brave enough to disclose the subject. We both kept secrets, Darling and are both to blame."

"But you're dead." Dick chokes, reaching out his arm to bring his lover to his chest. He lacks the warmth that he once associated with Daniel Crowne. "My secrets lead to your death."

"Maybe. My secret would have led to me leaving your world anyway." Danny confuses.

"What?"

"Since I became Daniel Crowne, I have been working on a way to travel dimensions. It was my goal to get back to my original home. I became so obsessed with it that I did not weaver even years after landing in a world technically behind my own. Not even my love for you or my care for Tim made me give up on that goal." Danny says, eyes staring into Dick's soul, looking so majestic and sad that, for a moment, Dick wondered if he was a painting.

"I told myself that once I figured out a way to travel home, I could come back here to you and live another double life. But that was a lie. A pretty one but a lie. I had to choose one world or another and I would have chosen the other if I had lived."

Danny rests his forehead against Dick's. "I wanted a life with you, Darling, but fate wouldn't allow it as I have been too selfish. I know it's a lot to ask, but can I be selfish a little longer?"

The Gotham vigilante wraps himself around his dead partner, attempting to bury himself in his essence. "As much as you want Darling. Be as selfish as you want."

Neither speaks for long, allowing themselves to feel around each other.

"Daniel Fenton," Danny says after a long while.

"What?"

"My name. It's Daniel Fenton." Danny pulls back to smile at him. "May I tell his story?"

"Yes."

_____________________________________________________________

Dick wakes again to his room curtains gently blowing in the wind of his open windows. The rain has stopped, and a few birds are chirping in the trees outside the glass. The sun shines on the ring that has his name carved into the band, where it rests on his bedside table.

There is no evidence that Danny had been there the night before.

Dick carefully reaches out for the ring, sliding it onto his finger. It's a perfect fit.

He rolls onto his back, holding his hand up to watch the small stones curling around the band gleam. Somewhere in the afterlife, the Ghost King, rightful ruler of the Beyond, is wearing a similar one, and he may wait for the day the two reunite.

Dick Grayson knows everything about Danny Fenton, of how he arrived here in this world, of the one he lost when he flew aimlessly through the Infinite Realms, and of the life he built himself in his effort to get home.

He knows that Timothy Drake will continue to rule over Gotham's underbelly with his trained Ghosts, who will be far more dangerous than any Talon. He will also buy out Crowne Corp, bringing his brother's once titan of a company under his care to continue his work.

He knows Jason and Damian will grow up well, forging their own identities and teams and working hard to improve the lives of the residents of Crime Alley.

He knows that Bruce will continue his war against the crime of Gotham, and for every mistake and stumble he makes, Bruce will bring hope back to the people who cower in their homes.

He knows Lucas Black did not mean to kill Danny and finds he does not hate the man. Danny does not blame him, so why should Dick? He'll dedicate the rest of his life to working at the bakery his sister had always dreamed of owning.

But above all, Dick Grayson knows Danny Fenton still loves him.

For the first time since Danny's death, Dick allows himself to dissolve into sobs. His cries raise in volume, filling the room with their anguish. His bedroom door is flung open by a distressed-looking Bruce, who gathers him in his arms. His baby brothers are not far behind, and Alfred even puts aside his professionalism to join in on the hug.

One day, the family will be much larger than the five. Somewhere out there, a young girl unable to speak is waiting for them. Her brother, who can see the dance of light, is just a little behind. He likely goes to class with a girl in purple who will become Drake's right hand after one too many pushes from her shitty father.

Danny told him there would be more and that he had seen all of Dick's life. Ultimately, he will wait for them to pick up where they left off. The weight of their shared rings will be a companion for the rest of Dick's life.

Dick sobs and sobs until every nasty emotion is finally out of his body. It feels like relief.

[vigilskeep]

there are so many things in veilguard that have made me go "wait what??? okay i guess i have to totally rethink the character i'm roleplaying now" that it's literally impossible to guess what thing you're referring to as The Thing That Happened. obviously extremely curious to hear what it is once you've detangled it

it’s kind of like that but it’s also less that and more... okay i should probably just say it, i’m being weird and unhelpful and i need to write it out anyway so i can think

MASSIVE SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT for a companion quest, do NOT say i didn’t warn you. also please don’t respond to this if you know more than me i am in distress but i still don’t want spoilers

so i just finished lucanis’ “a murder of crows” quest. and lucanis. first talon. for some reason. (this is the writing choice i’m ??? on. also i’m ??? on lucanis’ whole storyline, frankly. the writing was. well. like i said, we’re not unpicking that right now, i don’t want to get into it at this point, not the conversation i’m having.)

lifelong trauma of being in the crows and fighting to get someone in a talon’s position and keep them there -> the thing that gave sol all their diseases and made them, to be frank, fairly suicidal

viago: ultimately can handle it without them, especially with teia’s backing.

lucanis: CANNOT handle it without them. holy fuck. for like twelve hundred different reasons, unthinkable, completely laughable, that he can handle this. who is going to protect him. the only reason this could be better at keeping sol mentally stable than watching viago’s back is that they will never feel purposeless or need to go looking for an adrenaline rush, because forget crows, an ambitious blackbird could eat that man alive. he can’t scheme. he can’t even SCHEME and the very fact that he trusts sol DE RIVA demonstrates this. sol is a crow! from another house! does he have no memory at all of the fact that his own parents died in crow infighting? sol could have been playing him this whole time, it wouldn’t have even been hard, and if they were that kind of person, then right now the first talon’s house would have just fallen directly in their hands like a gift from the maker, and they can’t even say a part of themself they can’t shut off isn’t thinking about it that way! how is sol supposed to keep someone like that alive?

you see what it’s like trying to sleep while sol is having this discussion in my mind.

ahem. anyway. pathways for sol’s life assuming they indeed make it through the game:

becoming lucanis’ guard dog the way they were for viago, which (even if they could mentally handle that, which they can’t. or can they??) means switching house loyalties which would surely destroy them eventually -> bad

somehow trying to persuade lucanis to give this up, as if that wouldn’t be throwing house dellamorte completely to the dogs, which at least sol can’t imagine any crow is capable of, let alone someone so dedicated to clinging to what remains of his family that he couldn’t even kill a traitor -> bad

going ahead and leaving the crows, but sol now has to leave BOTH viago and lucanis behind and also lucanis is going to die in there because they left him to do this alone -> bad

solution: sol is back on their original “if a blighted dragon eats me by the end of this, i don’t have to experience consequences” train

and maybe they’re right and i should not worry about this because i’m painfully aware it’s VERY bold to start deciding what happens after the game at this point, when they might still get trapped in the fade or turned into paste or something. and admittedly they did know and dread the possibilities from the first moment they felt something for lucanis, which was why they so wanted it to be anyone else, because anyone else in that lighthouse could have given them a different world, and he is the one who regardless of his best or worst intentions can only tie them tighter to a burning building. and SURE, i see the solas/mythal breakup parallels of sol still leaving, i’m looking at them, that doesn’t mean i have to LIKE them

he hasn’t even kissed them. they’re doing all of this unkissed. lucanis dellamorte when i get you

again please absolutely do not respond to any of this with even the vaguest of hints if you know more about the rest of the game than me 🙏 it’s probably best if no-one responds to this at all lmao i am just thinking out loud. you can reply with a “that’s rough buddy”. for sol

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis with Benefits - Part 6

Summary: “Three weeks have passed, and the inevitable truth leads to some harsh conversations…”

Wc: 3.3k

Tropes: enemies-to-lovers

Warnings: ANGST big time, fighting, crying (my heart hurts)

A/N: hello… I finally finished the newest chapter and I immediately wanted to get it out so you can all read it. I am incredibly sorry that it took so long, and I am also sorry for the amount of sadness in this chapter… but it had to happen🥲

General Masterlist

Series Masterlist

It's been three weeks since you last saw Harry, and you feel terrible.

About what exactly? You're not sure. Dylan's sudden appearance. Harry just— walking out. What Harry and Dylan did to you. What you have been doing with Harry...

It seems that, just as the dust had started to settle, this tornado entirely threw you for a loop again. Finally getting to terms with your feelings and accepting the idea of a friendship with Harry, it all came crashing down the moment you spotted Dylan at that pool table.

You'd spent hours furiously scribbling in your notebook to understand the depths of this tricky situation you'd managed to work yourself into, but you haven't found a logical solution or explanation for any of it.

Only that Dylan is a total dick, that is.

You had to admit that you needed some time to come down from the shock and bottled up feelings that had exploded right in front of your face. But by the end of the week, you were ready to find Harry and talk about this. What that conversation would lead to, you had no idea, but speaking to him was vital.

And apparently impossible.

He wouldn’t respond to your texts, nor your calls when you eventually decided to give calling him a try. When you'd finally mustered up the courage to sneakily ask Benjamin about Harry's whereabouts, you were smacked in the face with the news that Harry had left.

He'd gone home to England to visit his family, Benjamin said. When you'd asked whether it had to do anything with the Dylan fiasco, Benjamin had shrugged and said that Harry did visit his family every single year. But he also mentioned he went a bit earlier than planned, so he thought the other night might have had a little bit to do with it.

Planned or not planned, it left you with a lot of confusion and doubt for the next two weeks, one of which you spent in your own hometown, trying to enjoy spring break as much as you could with a broken heart and an occupied mind.

You hadn't returned to your college town yet when Harry finally did, and you were bummed about not being able to talk to him. Rebecca and Benjamin were going to a party Harry was throwing so you guessed you'd hear about his state when you got back.

It would've be a bit embarrassing to admit, but it's one of the reasons you caught an earlier train this morning. You texted Rebecca, telling her you’d back sooner than planned. but you hadn't heard from her so far. While you'd thought it was a little weird, you figured you'd see her this evening anyway.

You didn't expect her to be at your front door.

A smile creeps onto your face as you neared her, leaving your luggage to the side as you open your arms for a hug, but Rebecca just stands there, arms crossed. Quirking up a brow, you ask:

"Hey, are you okay?"

A few seconds pass before she responds.

"We need to talk."

Absolute, utter dread fills your entire body as you nod, grabbing your suitcase. "What is it about? Do you want to go upstairs?"

Rebecca doesn't answer your question, she only nods in response to your second. You are quick to unlock my door and walk towards my apartment with her. The elevator ride is silent and excruciating, and when you've finally entered your living room, you're quick to ask away.

"Okay, what's going on?" Your question sounds almost irritated, which in hindsight doesn't seem very smart because it only seems to tick Rebecca off. What is going on with her?

"Harry threw a little get together yesterday," Your friend sighs, crossing her arms. "and I couldn't help but notice the familiarity of his home address when he sent it to us."

Your face pales. Oh my god, you are going to throw up. This cannot possibly be happening right now. Rebecca notices your instant change in the demeanor, her own growing angry. You take a few steps back and sit down on the couch.

"You slept with him, after what he did to you?! How could you do that?!"

You are at a loss of words, despite having thought about how you were going to break this news to her one day. "I— I don't know, I don't know..."

"What do you mean you don't know? You slept with the guy your boyfriend cheated on you with! God, have you no self-respect?!"

Her words hit you like a slap in the face, and as the tears roll down your cheeks, you begin to shake your head.

"Rebecca— I..."

"No, listen, Y/N. For months, Benjamin and I have been walking on eggshells, trying so hard to make sure you're comfortable. Benjamin even punched Harry, for Christ's sake. Do you even know that?"

You nod slowly, the guilt that has been tightening around your throat settling in your stomach as well.

"I'm sorry..." You peep, looking down at the floor. Meeting Rebecca's eyes is too terrifying at the moment. You can't handle that right now.

"God... why him? You don't even like him." Rebecca goes on, and the tears prickling in your eyes turn into full blown sobs as soon as the words have left her mouth. With your hands buried in your face, you don't see your friend sitting next to you, but you feel her rubbing your back.

"Shit... you like him, don't you?" She concludes, and your crying only increases at hearing that confession fall from another person's lips. This is the most complicated thing you have ever experienced. It takes a minute or so to finally manage to control your tears, and have calmed down enough to respond.

"I don't know how this happened." You confess between your sobs. "I didn't— I wasn't supposed to!"

"Hey, calm down." Rebecca pulls you closer to her, and you continue crying in her lap. "Everyone has at least one person they weren't— supposed to sleep with."

You pull yourself up, wiping away your tears as you shake your head. "I meant, I wasn't supposed to care about him. Sleeping with him was a choice I made, and I don't regret it because it was a distraction, and it worked. But it only worked because I hated him. I wasn't supposed to start... caring."

"Sweets, being that intimate with someone will leave you with no other option than to care for them, at least at some point." Rebecca reminds you. Your gaze is fixated on the ground, all these truths flying through your scrambled mind. You let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." You finally say, and another tear slips down your cheek as Rebecca strokes your hair.

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have made that comment about self worth, that was uncalled for, and mean. I was just angry, but that's no excuse."

You look at your friend, whose eyes also seem to be blurry, and conjure a faint smile. "You're forgiven."

Rebecca pulls you into a tight hug, and it takes her a full minute before you finally get her to agree to let go. When she does, she immediately stands up and grabs a glass of water for the both of you while you wipe your smudged mascara away with a tissue.

"So, what are you going to do about it?" She asks when she sits down, handing you the glass. You shrug before taking a large gulp of the water before setting it back on the table.

"I have no idea."

Rebecca leans back into the couch, eyeing you for a couple of seconds before speaking up. "Can I be really honest here?"

You're careful to look your friend in the eyes, her bluntness scaring you sometimes, but you nod anyway.

"I think you two are a pretty good match— you know, if you wouldn't count all the shit that happened of course. I was actually surprised when you went out with Dylan instead of Harry in the beginning. I thought Harry was a much better fit for you.” She tells you, and your brow quirks up at her words. You didn't expect her to go down this route. “You're just... compatible, you know? Plus, I was convinced he liked you."

"Rebecca, he hated me from the start." You scoff, but she shakes her head intently.

"No I know, but I swear, he asked about you before that party where you met him and Dylan. I thought he was interested in you."

By now, you have your hands buried in your hair as you listen to all this new information that you are being fed by your friend. This is way too confusing and it's making your headache even worse.

"But then you told me he was being rude, so I just brushed it off as a lapse of judgment from my side. Of course now we know he was acting like an asshole to you because of Dylan—which I still think is a dick move, by the way." Rebecca rants on. The weight on your chest that had seemed to have subsided for a minute has grown in size again.

"My point is, your relationship with Harry has been a wreck from the start, and the main cause for that is Dylan. So if you can't get over the Dylan situation, it's probably going to be impossible to ever build a lasting relationship with Harry."

Rebecca's words ring in your ears. It's a revelation that has been looming in your mind for a bit now. There was a part of you that knew this was an extremely complicated situation and therefore didn't want to tackle it, as a possible solution seemed to be non-existent. You've hit a wall in your relationship—if it even can be called that—with Harry, and if you really want to move forward, you'll have to climb over that wall and hope Harry will take your hand and come along.

You sigh, your tired eyes meeting Rebecca's. "You're right."

************************************************

It's been about an hour since Rebecca left and you've been pacing your living room ever since, devising a plan on how to talk to Harry. What to say to him, how to say it, and with what outcome in mind.

A knock on the door relieves your from your taunting thoughts for a moment, but opening your door throws you for an entirely different loop as you find Harry standing across from you.

He looks worn out. The dark circles under his eyes aren't extremely prominent but the sole fact that they're there tells you enough. He also appears to be in gym clothes, which makes you wonder whether this trip to your apartment was planned or not.

"Hey." He croaks out, his eyes flicking up and down your face and body, calculating any reaction that might come from you.

"Hi." You respond breathlessly. Neither of you say another word—you spend most of the silent minute staring at him—until Harry finally clears his throat.

"Can I— uh..." his finger points towards your living room, and before you know it, you step aside. He enters your apartment, following you as you head for your couch.

Another dreadful silence follows as the both of you sit next to each other, waiting for the other one to break first. It's excruciating and it feels like it goes on forever. You don't realize you're picking at your nail beds until Harry's voice takes you out of your dissociative trance.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" You scan his face, squinting your eyes a bit. There is something unsettling about his demeanor. It's so passive, at least it seems.

"For just leaving like that." He meets your eyes, and you notice the guilt displayed in them. Not knowing what to say, you refrain from answering as you think of everything that has happened. When you finally do open your mouth, Harry's focus on you is so intense that it makes you a bit nervous, the weight of your words becoming much heavier now that you know Harry will be hanging onto your every single one.

"You really hated me, you know. And it wasn't just because of Dylan. You despised me, always did, and I never understood why."

You watch as his eyes turn glassy and he shakes his head, softly whispering 'no' over and over again. Your brows crease at his attempt at—what seems to you—denial. He can't oppose that he hated you. He has literally said it multiple times.

"Don't pretend that you didn't Harry, I know you did."

"No, that's not—" he protests.

"Then what is it?” The questions falls off your tongue in a hurry, the frustration that has been bottled up inside of you slowly beginning to unleash. "The other night, right before spring break, I really thought we were on our way to becoming friends. I felt like it was actually possible. And then you just— left. One glimpse of him and you were gone.”

You take a deep breath before continuing. “It's been eating at me for the past three weeks that you just walked out and began ignoring me. So please, Harry, clarify it for me because I don’t understand any of this.”

Harry hangs his head and sighs. “It's complicated. And stupid... and probably doesn't make any sense."

"Then make sense of it." You command, leaning forward so he is forced to meet your eyes. He holds your gaze for a few seconds, then nods, a small frown on his face as he figures out what he wants to say. You try not to hold your breath as you wait for him to start, but you find yourself doing it anyway as soon as he starts speaking.

"I, uh— I'd liked Dylan for quite some time, and he knew that. He led me on for a long time, and I was trying to get over him, but it just felt like it was impossible, you know?" He explains, picking at the skin on his fingers out of nervous habit. You hum, telling him you understand without actually interrupting him. He continues.

"So, one day I was walking out of class and I ran into Rebecca. She was with you and some other girls, and you were all waiting for her while she was talking to me. I remember seeing you, and I thought you were very pretty, which was special to me because I hadn't felt so intrigued by someone in a long time."

Your heartbeat becomes more prominent, and suddenly you can feel it beating loudly as he speaks. You fiddle with your sweaty hands. He was intrigued by you? The nerves swerve through your stomach, not being able to make sense of what Harry is saying just yet. It’s contradicting everything you’ve known about Harry’s feelings towards you since you met him. But Rebecca’s words hang in the back of your head, and there is a wave of anticipation that almost overwhelms you: the anticipation that Rebecca might be right. Harry clears his throat.

“So anyways, I asked Rebecca about you and she told me you'd come to the party. Later, I was kind of— stalking you on Instagram, and Dylan saw. He teased me about it. Suddenly he started to give me loads of attention again. And I thought maybe he was jealous, and he had realized that he liked me, and this was finally the moment that it would all work out.” He says with a certain bitterness, not necessarily aimed at anyone but himself. As if he is mad at himself for those past rose-tinted thoughts he had regarding Dylan. “But then he got together with you at the party a couple days late, and I was just... so angry."

Harry’s eyes become glassy, and you feel your heart crack. After your break-up with Dylan it became clear how much effect he had on Harry. Now knowing the history, the constant push and pull, you don’t find it weird. Harry had allowed him inside his heart time and time again, all the while Dylan would just figure out how to play at his heartstrings. Just enough to keep him coming back everything single time, hoping something had changed.

“It felt like he wasn't allowing me to get over him. I had finally met someone who made me realize that maybe the first stages of like— love and dating shouldn't feel like your heart is constantly being ripped from your chest. That it could be innocent and fun. And it felt as if he was mocking me for it, by going after that hope and taking it away.”

He looks at you, and you give him a weak, sympathetic smile, swallowing away the physical pain you get from hearing about Harry’s emotional pain. Caring so deeply can be the most euphoric thing, but it’ll come back to bite you in the ass when the person you care about is hurting. You realize then, in that moment, how thin the line between a blessing and a curse is.

But when your hand finds his and you intertwine your fingers, you figure it’s more of a blessing anyway.

“And I just— I don't want to spin it as if you were a piece of meat, because Dylan cared about you. I saw that, and I hated it because I used to wish it was me. It made me be a dick to you, and I’m really fucking sorry about that, because you didn’t deserve that at all. If I could take all of that back then I would.”

He sighs as soon as all the ramblings of words have left his mouth, and you feel the weight of that sigh. His body tells you it as well: he’s relieved. Initially, you find yourself at a loss of words, and the only thing that your mind can generate as a response escapes before you can stop yourself.

“Well, if you take it all back then we bever would’ve have had such mind-blowing sex, right?” You blurt out, and Harry chuckles at your stupid joke. You laugh along as you try to scramble together a real answer, stroking his hand with your thumb.

“I’m sorry Dylan used you like that, I can only imagine how frustrating that is. And while I agree you should’ve never been so grumpy to me, I can’t say that I haven’t acted rude out of jealousy before.” You say earnestly, the thought of that night at the bar popping inside your head. You weren’t exactly nice to that girl Harry was talking to either. In fact, you didn’t acknowledge her at all.

“Rebecca said we need to get over the Dylan situation if we ever want to build any sort of relationship whatsoever. We need to forgive each other and move past it, otherwise we can never be— friends.” Your cheeks heat up at your quick save. It’s quiet between the two of you, but his grip on your hand doesn’t loosen the slightest bit. Harry is staring at his lap, making it difficult for you to read what he’s thinking. He raises his head to meet your eyes, and when you are met with the sight of a tear rolling down his cheek, your own vision blurs instantly.

"How can I forgive you for something you never did?"

The hopelessness of his question smashes your heart into a thousand pieces. You are quite sure you physically hear it crack. The broken pieces pierce into every part of your body, including your throat, that feels too heavy as you gather strength to answer him. Your breath hitches the first time you try to get some words out and fail, so your voice wavers when you manage to speak.

“I don’t know...”

Taglist: @hisparentsgaleryy @love-letters-to-uranus @moonwitttch19 @notmeherelol173 @fairytale07 @valuunit

[cassielovesdeadwizards]

starchaser 💫

I have no idea what this is. I just started writing and this happened. Enjoy I guess lmao

James’ heart stopped. 

The air around him became stagnant, as if the whole world took a breath it didn’t want to release. 

As he watched the boy on the stage- 

Man. 

He was a man now. Not a boy. 

His heart grew heavy, as if breaking all over again. The freshly healed scar over the crack of his heart splitting open with a sickening snap, that he swore the whole theatre could hear. 

But they didn’t. They were none the wiser to his distress while sitting in the back, his eyes glued to the performer on the stage, watching as his hands moved as he talked. Even while performing he was animated. It was like he was incapable of keeping his hands still. James used to love that about him. 

No. He did love that about him. 

He thought he'd gotten over this. The way he could hear his heartbeat in his ears when he saw him, or the way the skin on his arms would itch with anxiety and his hands would find comfort in running through his hair like he was a teenager again. How his stomach would flip and his eyes would draw to him no matter what he did.

He thought he was over him.

But as Regulus Black took the stage, performing a sonnet of Shakespear that James didn't currently have the brainpower to remember, his beautiful face, and voice, and body, all bouncing off the walls and projecting straight into James' veins...he realised that he never really stopped loving him.

As corny as it sounds to admit to himself, James felt as if he was home. Not the physical type of home, not the type of homeliness that his parents manor in the country gave him, or his old dorm room at university, or his new apartment...the kind of home you feel with a person. the type of home he felt when Regulus would practice his performances for him on rainy autumn nights in his dorm, in just a pair of James' boxers and a t-shirt, the type of home he always felt holding his body against his, feeling how small he felt in his arms.

It's funny how wounds that take months to heal can open back up with a single glance.

He could feel when Regulus became aware of his presence. He felt the atmosphere change...the weight of the smaller man's words became heavier, as if they were getting harder and harder to say with each moment that passed.

When Regulus finished the sonnet, and the audience applauded, James only sat and stared. He stared until his eyes started to water and he realised that he needed to blink. And when the curtain fell, he stayed seated, watching the spot in the curtain where Regulus had stood, as if manifesting him back on stage. He stayed there until the whole theatre had emptied out.

"Sirius would kill you for being here."

The voice rang in his ears, and he didn't reply straight away, as if speaking would break some sort of spell, and this would all fade away into the back of his mind.

When he finally registered Regulus sitting about five seats up, he spoke.

"I know." He said, his voice sounding strained. Not in frustration, or anger, or even discomfort. James doesn't think he could ever feel discomfort in Regulus' company. The strain was more from the longing that plagued his every muscle, his every nerve.

"Then why are you here?" Regulus asks. It was true, that Regulus Black could be perceived as cold and ruthless, a sharp edge to his voice that could have only been created in the cold confines of the Black Family house. But James knew Regulus like he knew his own language, like he knew how to breathe. His coldness was a shield he used to protect his innocence, his naivety.

James could hear the hopefulness that laced his words, each syllable lined in a tiny bit of gold.

"If it's any consolation...I didn't know you were performing. A friend of mind recommended the show." He says, because if there was one thing you should know about James Fleamont Potter is that no matter how many lies he's told in his life, not a single one of them was to Regulus Arcturus Black. "But I'm glad you were."

The words left his mouth out of an old die-hard habit to always tell him the truth.

Regulus said nothing. Not for a while anyway. He just sat in his chair, looking out towards the stage he'd just owned. James didn't look at the stage. He was looking at the side of Regulus' face, at the empty spaces of skin where his love used to be, in marks of red and purple. He looked at the his nose, which he used to kiss and Regulus never used to admit to liking.

Regulus opened his mouth, as if to say something, and then closed it again. James wanted him to say whatever it was he was going to say. He wanted to hear and feel his words, he didn't car if they broke him in two or stitched him right back up, as long as they were directed at him.

"I was scared."

Whatever James had expected him to say, it certainly wasn't that.

"Of what?"

"Of being broken first."

James knew that that was supposed to make him angry. That Regulus had broken his heart in an attempt to beat him to the finish line, as if their relationship was doomed to fail.

But it didn't.

Instead he moved closer, to the seat right beside his estranged lover. He didn't touch him. Partly because he knew that if he did he'd never want to stop...but also because he didn't want to scare him off.

"I forgive you."

It was like all the tension in the room dropped, crashing to the floor and breaking the silence that had grown too uncomfortable to sit in any longer.

"What?"

"I said I forgive you."

"Yeah, I heard you. That's stupid, you didn't deserve-"

"Stop." James said, in an uncharacteristicly stern tone of voice, that even surprised him. So much so he waited a few seconds before speaking.

"You don't get to tell me what I do and don't deserve. What I did and didn't deserve. Do you really think that my love for you was that feeble that it would break and dissolve just because you left me? Just because you shattered me and left me completely inconsolable? Do you really think that your impression on me was that vague, as if I don't love you as easily as I breathe? Regulus, you could have quite literally stabbed me in the back, and I would've returned the knife to you with a smile on my face because I love you so irrevocably that not a single part of me hates you for what you did."

The words hang in the air, the weight of them laying heavy on Regulus' head as he processes them, letting them sink into every bone of his body.

See, what Regulus really wanted was for James to tell him exactly what to do. To look him in the eyes and say 'I want you back' and take him home and never let him leave. Regulus knows that he's damaged. That his nothing-to-be-desired childhood had left him with scars that even now refuse to heal. But if there's one thing he's certain of, it's that the day he broke up with James was the day he realised his self-destructive ways would never let him be happy.

James could sense his internal war, the battle field in his mind, he could see it playing behind his eyes.

James wasn't a stranger to taking a chance.

"Get your coat on. We're going home."

He says, standing up and pulling his own coat over his shoulders, buttoning it up.

Regulus sat and stared, as if his entire body was still computing the words that had come out of his mouth. So James sighed and gently took his forearms, pulling him out of his seat and zipping his coat up. He took him ice cold hand in his own warm one, interlacing their fingers together like a puzzle piece, and he walked him out of the theatre.

James took him home.

James. Took. Regulus. Home.

[kookinglikeachef]

hi!! i was wondering if i could request how ateez would react to reader slapping/grabbing their butt? :) tysm!

kookinglikeachef: I feel it is no coincidence that this group got a whole bakery going on..

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Hongjoong:

Pretends to be offended but he honestly probably wouldn’t mind. Would even give you gentle pats in private. Just don’t do it in front of the other members unless you wanna be scolded but in the cutest way possible.

Seonghwa:

GYATT, respectfully. He would find it “so hot!” and return the gesture of course. Would even slap his own butt. Because he’s proud of it.

Yunho:

He is an ASS man! Would give him the giggles too when you do it. Mid-hug, during cuddles, while he’s cooking. You’ve got him giggling and kicking his feet.

Yeosang:

Might make him shy the first few times, but otherwise he wouldn’t mind it because it’s you. Sometimes would pretend like it didn’t happen. Or he’ll poke his butt out for you to slap it again. Just be gentle with him, please.

San:

You slap Sannie’s butt? You betcha he's going to slap it back and claim it as revenge. Maybe even start a silently declared butt slapping war. This is his love language so you just gave him even more reason to have his hands glued to your ass more as if they weren’t already. Get ready for sore glutes but also the tender loving care that comes afterwards.

Mingi:

Well your first mistake was grabbing his butt because he will take any sort of attention from you that he can get. He will misunderstand it for sexy time. You’d be surprised how a simple ass grab could quickly turn into heated coupling… or maybe it wasn’t a mistake?

Wooyoung:

Oh, he loves the hell out of it. Slapping, -patting, -squeezing—honestly, leave it to Wooyoung. He’s even got a guide to touching the butt. When he greets you, he’ll give you little gentle pinches. When he’s being playful, he’ll really dig in and pull your ass. They get parted, lol. Out in public? He’ll put his hand in your back pocket. It’s a couples thing.

Jongho

Acts like he hates it. He’ll let it pass the first time, but two times in a row? You’re pushing your limits (not really). I guess it depends on the type of day because he will definitely give you the cutest smirk but he’ll also glare at you, which is also cute so do it again. We don’t let cake go to waste in this household.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 10

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here

WARNING: This is a long chapter

First - Prev - Next

Ch.10

“Do you remember how you came to Gravity Falls in the first place?”

“I was just passing by.”

“Yes, but this town is isolated, and you have no means of transportation.”

“Trainhopping, I was hiding on a train for two days I think, maybe three? Decided to jump off here.”

“Do you know why you decided to do that here, and not anywhere else?”

“...”

“Stan?”

“It’s funny, specs - a couple months back, I’d already been with my pal Rick for a while, right? Just one heist, escapade, or criminal venture after another, for seven months straight. And it was great while it lasted, but then he asked me if I wanted to stay with him in another dim- someplace far away. And I wanted to, ya know? There’s always been this itch in the back of my mind that I wanted to go around the world on some grand adventure, and he was offering that to me on a silver platter. But I told him no.”

“And why was that, Stan?”

“...It’s stupid.”

“I wouldn’t call any of your reasoning stupid, I’m not here to judge you.”

“...I always wanted to go on an adventure- but something was missing. It’s like- I dunno if it’s intuition or some spiritual mumbo jumbo, it’s like I’m looking for something. But I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Do you have an idea what it could be?”

“A part of… me? I’m missing something. Not just my memories- but something else. I think I might have made a promise, I just… don’t remember what it was, or who I promised to. I guess I’ve been drifting around trying to find it.”

“And you felt it was in Gravity Falls?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. There’s something weird here… I just wanted to check this place out, is all.”

“I see. What did you say your relationship with this Rick was like?”

“You don’t need to be jealous, F. We were just friends. Okay, maybe we were kind of an item for a week at most, but that guy isn’t just self-destructive; he’s like a train that wrecks onto a freeway, he can never just destroy himself, he has to wreck the people around him too and create an absolute shit show. Even I have a limit with that shit.”

“You really need to stop putting yourself down like that, Stan. You only ever seem to say negative things about yourself, it ain’t good for you.”

“There isn’t anything good to say, stretch.”

“Don’t sell yourself one egg short of a basket, now. Y’know, your-. Uh, Stanford was telling me that you’re quite clever. He used a trick to get you down here in the first place, but he also said that he wouldn’t be able to trick you again.”

“I should have seen his fake-out coming… I’ll give it to him, it was a good one. But I’m not going to underestimate him, because crazy like his should never be underestimated. What’s he up to anyways? He went to that room that’s always locked.”

“That’s his private study. I believe he goes there when he wants to be alone.”

“...Didn’t he live by himself? Why did he already have that?”

“Can’t say, maybe it’s a quiet and calm space for him.”

(...)

“HE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL.”

“Bill, please stop calling me that. It’s unprofessional.”

“Come on Sixer, at least let the Goo Goo Dolls soundtrack play.”

“The what?”

“Ooop! My bad, it’s not 1998 or 2024 yet. How can I help you today, Fordsy? You haven’t called me in a few weeks.”

“There’s a mindscape I need to access.”

“Oh boy, it’s not usually you who wants to poke around other humans' brains, always prattling on about ethics and consent. What’s the occasion?”

“...You know everything I know when we’re in the mindscape, you already know the answer.”

“Yes, but I still want you to say it out loud. Clearly and concisely, so your dialogue can be read on screen.”

“... I need to get into the mind of my brother, Stanley. He has amnesia, and our leading theory is that it’s due to psychological trauma. But he has been through so much trauma we’re having trouble isolating the definitive event that would have started this.”

“And why wouldn’t he just share that with his beloved twin brother?”

“He does not remember me.”

“Oooh, then he is just like you! Isn't it just precious when twins are twinning?”

“I never forgot about him.”

“Oh Sixer… You might as well have.”

“Just take me to his mind, Cipher… Please.”

“Anything for you, baby boy!”

SNAP

(...)

“So your memories are only clear to a certain point?”

“Yeah. Rick found me wandering around the woods in a ‘catatonic state’, and snapped me out of it. Everything before that… I can remember being on the street, I can remember all the stuff I did, maybe out to a decade? But there’s a lot of holes, lotsa different names I used. And before the streets? Nothing.”

“And when did Rick find you in the woods?”

“What month is it?”

“June.”

“Last May - so about 13 months?”

(...)

“Okay Fordsy he hasn’t made a deal with me so we can’t go too deep, or his mental defenses are just gonna shove us out.”

“Bill, I already know that, why are you explaining it to me?”

“You know; doesn’t mean they know. Unless this is a re-read. In which case; welcome back. Glad you loved or hated it the first time.”

“You are… Beyond comprehension, Bill Cipher.”

“That’s what you love about me though.”

“You have my begrudging, professional respect.”

“From your aspec ass, that’s practically love.”

“Aspe-”

“Oooh! Lookie here, a memory door opened up. He must be opening up to someone right now. Let's barge in haphazardly.”

(...)

“Okay Stan, this might be difficult. But if you ever feel distressed, let me know and we can try grounding techniques okay?’

“You got it, F.”

“Now close your eyes, think back to when you and Rick parted ways.”

(...)

“Sanchez?! How does Stan know-.”

“You know this hilarious crossover character? I already know the answer, but for no particular reason I need you to tell me out loud how you know him.”

“His wife Diane was part one of my PhD programs. She was always so bright and pleasant, but her husband was a nightmare when she brought him around. He was always saying that school wasn’t for smart people, and rubbed his inventions and intelligence in our face.”

“And how is she these days?”

“She passed away from a garage fire a few years ago, her and her little girl. I almost sent him a condolences, but he was such an unpleasant asshole I could not make myself do so.”

“Come on Stan- think about it! You, me, Bird Person, Squanchy-  sci-fi adventures, drugs, bitches. Whattaya say? Let’s ditch this dimension, there isn’t anything for us here anymore.”

“Dimension-?”

“Shh, Fordsy, just let it play out.”

“I… I can’t Rick.”

“Why not?”

“There’s… something here.”

“Did you remember something?”

“I don’t remember who, but I think I’m looking for someone.”

“Stanny-Boy, we’ve been through this before. No one knows you, everywhere we’ve been, ‘cept for the fake names. You should just cut your losses.”

“Wherever we go, we go together.”

“What was that-?”

“Just the distorted voice of his subconscious. It’s probably not important.”

“I’m sorry. But there’s a piece of me missing, and I think it’s still here in this dimension somewhere.”

“You know your credits don’t have monetary value here.”

“I know.”

“And I can’t leave you a space cruiser. You’ll have to walk or steal a car.”

“Either is fine. I’ve done it before.”

“Stan… Are you sure?”

“Here. Take all my credits, you’ll get more out of it than me.”

“You want your dusters back?”

“Trade me.”

“Wait, you don’t want your transdimensional watch anymore?”

“If the pigs catch me, I don’t need them asking too many questions.”

“You know that doesn’t just give you dimensional coordinates and time zones, right? There’s a pulse wave in it that can shatter force fields.”

“Pft, what are the chances I’d ever need that?”

“Ooof, he really fumbled the bag there.”

“My muse, please.”

*Rick takes the watch and gives Stan a pair of brass knuckles*

“Thanks Rick… Hey, it was nice while it lasted.”

“Hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“I hope you find that bastard, Prime. Give him the hell he deserves.”

“...Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll miss you too, pal.”

(...)

“Alright, how are you feeling Stan?”

“So far so good.”

“Okay, now let’s go further back. You said your first clear memory is when you met him, let’s go back to that.”

“I was in the back of his shi- iiitty car, I felt like I’d just smoked an entire carton of cigarettes, but in a bad way..”

(...)

“It just- stopped?”

“He’s remembering something else. Just look for another door.”

“Here we go.”

“Wha- where…?”

“Oh hey you’re awake.”

“-’re, you?”

“You’re one tough son of a bitch, y’know? Most of the people I tase end up dead, but you just passed out.”

“You… tased me? Are you a cop?”

“Hell no. I tased you because you attacked me in the woods. Damn near ripped my head off.”

“The woods..?”

“You were wandering around in a catatonic state, can’t tell you how long.”

“A what state?”

“This isn’t going anywhere. Can you tell me your name?”

“It’s…? I... Malone. Wait. It’s- Stan.”

“Stan Malone huh? My name’s Rick Sanchez.”

(...)

“Stan keep your eyes closed. I want you to try to remember what happened before this.”

“Alright…”

“What’s something you can remember? Something you saw, felt, heard?”

“My chest felt really tight…”

(...)

“What is this?”

“Ahh. A pit memory. This is something his brain wants to forget, but can’t permanently delete.”

“So it is a repressed memory?”

“Yes. He’s trying to think about it… but unconsciously, he really doesn’t want to.”

“What happens if we jump in?”

“Sixer, where's your sense of adventure? If it gets too dangerous I’ll just pull us out.”

“Do you swear?”

“Just gimme the word.”

“Which word?”

“Let’s go with ‘defenestrate’ this time.”

‘W̷̷H̷̷Y̷ ̷I̷̷S̷̷N̷'̷T̷ ̷I̷̷T̷ ̷W̷̷O̷̷R̷̷K̷̷I̷̷N̷̷G̷?! ̷W̷̷H̷̷Y̷-?’

S̷̷C̷̷R̷̷E̷̷E̷̷C̷̷H̷

‘̷C̷̷a̷̷n̷’̷t̷-’  

‘̷t̷̷r̷̷a̷̷p̷̷p̷̷e̷̷d̷’  

‘̷c̷̷a̷̷n̷’̷t̷ ̷b̷̷r̷̷e̷̷a̷̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷-’

*brief flash of a pile of burnt paper ash in Stan’s hands, which are shaking*

“We can’t stay here Fordsy, he’s closing up again.”

“Just one more second-!”

“Might as well, it’s [--- ---- ------ - ---].”

“[--- ---] going to die here. Stan[--- -------- -----], if you don’t [---- - ---- ---- --] in the next minute you will die.”

“That voice-?”

“We’re leaving now, Sixer! DEFENESTRATE!”

SNAP

(...)

“Stan? Stan calm down-! It’s okay! Remember where you are.”

“C-Can’t breathe-”

“Yes you can, just breathe with me. In- out. In- out. Just like that. There we go.”

“I’m sorry Fiddleford, I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t. ”

To be continued…

[leona-hawthorne]

hello hello, congrats on 1k once again!! 💘 for my first request, i’d like it to be latte art, please! my house is ravenclaw and my favourite class is charms ✨

KIRAAA i love you, thank you for requesting bb!! 😚 i know you love theo so i chose to do him for this one specifically 🤭 hope you like it 💌

1k celebration navigation latte art

ミ★ SHOW OFF... theodore nott

The day was supposed to be simple, really. Charms was your favorite, after all. Even when it came to complex spells, you always seemed to find your rhythm quickly, something your professors had taken to mentioning with a satisfied nod every now and then.

Today, though, your rhythm had apparently vanished without a trace.

You could feel it slipping the moment Professor Flitwick assigned the task: enchanting objects to float in controlled patterns, and then slowing it down as it was moving—paired work optional but highly encouraged. Naturally, you chose to work alone, not out of stubbornness but simply because you were used to it. Besides, it was Charms—if there was any class you could ace solo, it was this one.

But the quill in front of you had other ideas.

You held your wand steady, casting the spell with a confidence that came naturally to you. But just as you whispered Wingardium Leviosa, your quill seemed to have a mind of its own. Instead of drifting up in the delicate arc you’d pictured, it shot forward in a wild, unpredictable path, veering toward the back of the room. Horrified, you watched as it spiraled, narrowly missing one student, only to make a perfect landing… right in someone’s lap.

And that someone happened to be Theodore Nott, the quiet Slytherin boy who sat near the back. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, one eyebrow arched in faint amusement, like he couldn’t quite believe what just happened. A blush crept up your cheeks as you walked over, hoping no one else had noticed.

You hesitated, but before you could offer a stammered apology, he picked up the quill between his fingers, turning it over as though examining it for some hidden charm. "I didn't expect this from someone who's supposed to have perfect control in… everything," he said, his tone smooth and low, edged with the faintest hint of teasing.

"I—it's usually fine," you replied, flustered. "I don’t know why it did that. I always get the levitation spells right."

He extended the quill back to you, his eyes piqued with interest. "Do you? Perhaps I should watch your technique more closely."

You managed a laugh, though your heart hammered in your chest at the way he looked at you—uncharacteristically focused. As you reached to take back the quill, Theo didn't let go immediately, and the corners of his mouth tugged into a barely-there smirk. "Or maybe you just need a demonstration," he added lightly, as if making up for his earlier teasing.

"I’m pretty sure I know how to levitate a quill," you countered, aiming to match his cool tone. But he was already flicking his wand, casting the spell with a practiced ease that made the quill hover smoothly between you.

The quill floated perfectly, following the path you’d envisioned for your own attempt. You tried to ignore the spark of admiration that bubbled up, focusing instead on the spell. “Show-off,” you muttered, a grin sneaking onto your face despite yourself.

“Only when necessary,” he replied with a laugh that was more a soft exhale than anything else. Theo lowered his wand, letting the quill hover above his hand for just a second before it drifted toward you quickly. “Arresto Momentum,” he murmured under his breath, the quill coming to a slow halt directly in front of your face.

You felt your smile grow. “Alright, alright. I get it, Mr. Perfect.”

He shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though you caught the way his gaze lingered. “It’s an easy mistake to make,” he said. “For some people.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m guessing you never make mistakes in Charms?”

He gave you a wry smile. “Not when I’ve got an audience.”

It took you a second to realize he meant you, and when you did, your cheeks warmed again. Theo let the silence stretch out just a little longer before he added, “Though, I’d expect someone like you to be better with this sort of thing.”

You tilted your head. “Someone like me?”

He chuckled. “You know, all that… bookish focus you’ve got going on,” he said, looking away almost shyly as if he hadn’t meant to say that part out loud. "You'd think it would translate."

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you said, brushing off your slight embarrassment. “Though I’m starting to think having a partner might have been a good idea after all.”

“Is that a request?” He raised a brow, his tone light but with just enough intrigue to keep you on edge.

You glanced at him, taken aback by the unexpected offer, but somehow not entirely opposed. “Are you volunteering?”

He gave a faint shrug. “Why not? Better than sitting here waiting to be your next target.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Okay, fine. Let’s see if I can redeem myself, then.”

The two of you stood there, caught in this back-and-forth, and you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d never spoken before now. Theo, who everyone whispered about as aloof and impossible to read, had this unexpectedly easy charm. That lingering smile of his had a way of making you forget all the little mistakes you might have just made, as if you were the only person in the room worth paying attention to.

“I’ll try not to disappoint next time,” you murmured, just as Professor Flitwick clapped his hands to call for the class’s attention again.

As you walked back to your desk, you glanced over your shoulder one last time, catching Theo watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. He gave you a slight nod, and you found yourself smiling—thinking, maybe, that a little levitation mishap wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[kurokawaia]

❛ RAGE HASHIRA ❜

Tomioka Giyuu X Fem!Reader

WC; 500+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW ::

*ੈ✩‧₊˚𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Hi there! I love your work and was wondering if you could please write Giyuu x fem!reader who is the Hashira of Rage? She’s known to be very rude and brash with everyone but she acts super sweet and lovesick around Giyuu because she has a huge crush on him? Bonus points if he’s clueless about her feelings for him! (I love my dense king 🤞) - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

It's the end of a hard worked training day with the cadets. Your presence was scary, is what the cadets say and you knew. Your eyes are sharp, your tongue is sharper and your patience? well, that was little to nothing. 

But there was one exception.

Across the courtyard is where your eyes trailed to, Tomioka who stood alone, And in an instant, your heartbeat rose up dramatically. I guess that's what happens when you're in love. To which, you are still surprised about, he's so calm, so patient (you suppose) and you're the opposite, complete opposite.

Opposites attract you guess...

He's so beautiful, you thought you would melt and you do melt, whenever you're around him, you melt into a puddle. 

"Hey, Rage Hashira," a voice sneered, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned to see Sanemi smirking at you, arms crossed. "Didn't think I'd catch you daydreaming. What's got your eye today, huh?"

Your glare was instant. "Mind your own business, Sanemi, unless you're begging for a spar you know you'll lose."

Sanemi's smirk faltered, and he huffed, walking away and you roll your eyes. God, he's annoying. You turned back to Giyuu, your expression softening once more. He was looking at the koi pond now, lost in thought. 

"Giyuu," you called, your voice unnaturally soft compared to how you spoke to everyone else. He turned to you.

"{Y/N}," he acknowledged. No more, no less. He blinked an owl-like stare that made your stomach flip. He never spoke much, but his presence was enough for you.

"I... uh... saw you out here and thought you might want some company," you said, trying to keep your tone from trembling. 

Giyuu nodded slowly. "That's... fine."

Your lips curved into a smile—one that would have shocked the entire corps if they saw it. "Thanks," you said, your voice full of warmth that you had reserved only for him.

You sat beside him, close enough that the fabric of your haori brushed his. Silence settled between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. 

He glanced at you, brows knitting slightly. "You're quieter than usual today."

You let out a laugh, light and genuine. "What, do you miss me yelling at everyone?"

His lips twitched—just a bit, not enough for anyone else to call it a smile, but you'd take it. "No," he said simply. And then, after a moment, he added, "It's... different."

The words warmed you more than a compliment from anyone else ever could. You were about to respond when Sanemi's earlier comment rang in your mind. Your jaw tightened. Maybe it was time to test the waters.

"You know, Giyuu," you began, "I've been told I'm softer around you."

He blinked at that, head tilting slightly. "Softer?"

"Yeah. Maybe it's because I... I like having you around."

It was the closest you'd come to confessing, and your chest tightened.

"That's good," he said, turning his gaze back to the pond. "I like having you around too."

And a hopeless smile spread across your face, your head burying itself to your knees as a red blush coats your cheeks. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[azelmaandeponine]

I saw this headcanon about Filbrick and wanted your opinion:

This is probably as good a time as any to drop my own trauma-dump fuelled headcanon on a stranger’s tangentially related post. I hope you don’t mind, or at least enjoy, OP.

When I was a kid, the first time my dad kicked my brother out, my mom sneaked him back in after three days and he hid out in the basement for over a week. The day after the fight where it happened, I asked Dad where my brother had gone, and he just said, "don't worry about it."

Then when he was driving me home from school that day, he said randomly, "he'll be back. He's gonna come back. He has to come back, he can’t just not come back. You know that." And I just kind of nodded, even though I wasn't sure. Because Dad had said some really bad shit when he was kicking him out that first time. I don’t feel comfortable repeating it but let me put it this way- at least Stan got a bag thrown out with him.

Anyway, my headcanon for the longest time was, I didn't think Filbrick intended to kick Stan out that night. At least, not forever, in the moment he definitely did. As OP said, he got mad, he reacted on instinct, he wasn’t really thinking. But in my mind, when he calmed down enough to realize what he’d done, he went straight to denial.

I think Filbrick told himself Stanley didn’t take him seriously. I think he tried to convince himself that Stanley would be back in a week or two, if that, he and Ford would deal with whatever happened and he would get the full story after that. And I think this, because I’m a messy bitch for parallels. And because I love the vibe of Filbrick driving around a dark and dingy Lead Paint District, muttering, “Stanley, come back, I didn’t mean it.”

What do you think?

Well, given that the OP of that seems to be basing it on their own traumatic experiences, I don't feel super comfortable weighing in on it.

Based on what they said, I think they know it's not canon and again, seems to be rooted in their own life experiences. And here, it seems to be less excusing Filbrick and more...him making his bed and having to lie in it. It's more...charitable, I guess, than I'd be, but they don't seem to be acting like Filbrick ISN'T a toxic and abusive parent either.

[ziggysarcana]

Shira raised a brow as Silas took a sip from her glass, an almost knowing look flitting across her features. A sly grin tugged at her mouth as her gaze lingered for just a second on his lips as he took a drink. She moved a hand to cover the grin, trying to hide the emotions it wore. There was something about the hesitation, like maybe he wasn’t feeling as casual as he was trying to seem; and that fact bemused her. “Really?” She teased, clasping a hand over her heart “You’d want my cooties? That’s probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Shira wasn’t sure who had brought the gin but she was fairly certain it was Seagrams. A fact she wasn’t going to mention to the man sat across from her. “Pretty good, but I don’t know if I can trust your opinion, you just admitted you want cooties.” Pleased with her quip — she giggled, her head tilting to the side and her eyes sparkling with delight before she reached for the glass. She brought it to her lips now to take another drink, a grimace shaking through her once more. Her tongue darted out in dramatic disgust before she thrust it back towards him, a pleading of “I need your help with this please, Silas,” falling from her lips, already abusing her knowledge of his name. She couldn’t help it, she liked to say it “I promise my next pour won’t be so heinous.”

Shira leaned her head back against the sill as he spoke, taking in the things he was saying and the things he wasn’t. There was something about the way he spoke, about the way he carried himself, that made Shira want to dig deeper. But she didn’t dare; because she didn’t want to make him frown. Not because she didn’t think he wouldn’t look nice frowning, in fact she was sure he would look just as handsome even if he were frowning, she just didn’t want to be the cause of it. “That’s good,” she said quietly, not pressing him further “I’m sure not a lot of people can say the same. That they like their life how it is.”

Humming at his question, she took a moment to think about it. “Portland pride,” she repeated, allowing herself to feel the weight of it on her tongue. Bittersweet. “Yeah, I guess I carry some of that everywhere I go. It’s a city that can stick to you like glue if you allow it to. It’s not flashy or glamorous, but it’s really fuckin’ real. Flesh and blood. Filled with freaks and weirdos. A place where anyone can find somewhere to belong. I think that counts for something.” Her voice started to trail off, not meaning to go off on a tangent. “But anyways,” Shira shrugged, indifferent “I don’t miss being there. I was feeling too much pressure.” A half-truth, despite the fact that her heart was screaming at her to be honest with him.

Shira caught the intense gaze and a small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t often that someone looked at her like this; so curiously. At least it wasn’t often for her, anymore. She didn’t say anything at first, letting the moment linger as she wondered about what was happening inside of his head. Her own mind raced, with a million zingers, a million quips. Something like ‘I’m not a Rubik’s cube, you don’t have to try that hard to figure me out’ on the tip of her tongue. But her vocal cords acted before her brain — “You’re making me nervous.” But she didn’t sound nervous. Quite the opposite, actually. Almost as if they were playing a game of chess and she was simply commenting on his strategy. Hushed due to their proximity. Not wanting to give Silas another half truth, she corrected “You make me nervous.” Shira didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she was acutely aware of the fact that he was psychoanalyzing her, or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t care if he was. She wanted him to see her.

Her shoulders relaxed and she mirrored his movements, leaning in to listen; as if they were sharing hushed secrets in a loud classroom. Like best friends, like they had known each other long before this party had even started. “I’m very honored,” she said, sweeter this time. Not saccharine, but real. Sugar cane. “and I must confess; you’re doing a fine job so far. Consider me entertained.”

Silas smiled, a light blush forming on his cheeks. He wasn't easily embarassed, but there was something about Shira needing to explain she didn't have any cooties that got to him. "Damn, I was really hoping you did have cooties." He said, trying to play it off while grabbing the cup from her hands. He went to take a sip from the glass, unknowingly putting his lips on the same edge she had, or did he do it knowingly? The strength of the alcohol hit him, but he was able not to react, he had been drinking drinks far too strong for far too long that he's able to keep a straight face. "Oh yeah, that is really strong." He took another, smaller, sip. "Pretty good gin though." He talked about it like he had any type of authority on what's good gin or not. He held the glass back out to Shira, seeing if she wanted it back.

Silas didn't enjoy talking about his past, mainly because he didn't enjoy his past, but he absolutely hated complaining about it. "My childhood wasn't really bad per se, it was definitely better than most." He said, dismissively. Unlike some of the people he knows from the circles he frequented in New York, he understood his privilege, and understood that writing was not a physically strenuous job that gave him a lot of benefits. "I just... I don't know... I just like the life I have now." He was uncharacteristicly ineloquent, looking to the ground. He paused for a second, before looking back to Shira, "enough about me though, how did Portland treat you? Have you still got that 'Portland pride.'" He asked her, repeating her line of questioning.

While Shira talked about Cardinal Hill, looking out the window, Silas took a chance to actually look at her closer. She appeared to have a kind of earnesty that Silas is not used to, like she was a real person with real emotions. He wondered what those emotions were, what she was thinking. He usually thought about people like characters in a book, where they fit in the story, what they bring the reader, but for some reason she was different. As she glanced out the window, his attention was brought to her hand brushing her hair. Silas thought about what she does for work, what she does for fun. He thought about what her hand felt like. When she looked back to him, it was obvious that he was looking at her a little too closely.

As Shira moved closer to Silas, he instinctively moved closer to her, listening closely to her voice. "I pretty much forgot about my brother as soon as I walked into the room. I couldn't think of anything I want to do more than entertain little ol' you." He said, matching her hushed tone, looking her in the eye.

[starryaugust]

100 au!Jason Todd - Backstory

Jason was orphaned at a young age, his dad died when he was just a baby and his mother died a few years later. He can barely remember her.

Like Dick, he was raised in the orphanage.

He fought to survive, for every bit of food. No matter how little it was.

When Dick arrived, he was suspicious. Why would someone want to help without gaining anything from it?

It took some time, but eventually he started to trust Dick. And in the end, he started seeing him as a brother. And he started to come back to who he was before the orphanage, before learning the hardships of life, before the corruption.

When Dick was arrested, Jason decided to replace him. But security was more careful, he was caught and put in the sky box quickly.

When the guards came to get him, he fought. He punched a guard and they had to tranquilize him, when he woke up the 100 were already on their way to the ground. And Dick was next to him.

Jason was the first person to step on the ground for 100 years,

or at least that's what they thought.

Unlike in the series, in this au no one from the 100 doesn't go straight to mount weather. They decide to assemble a camp before and scavenge and hunt for food.

A few days after they landed, Jason was exploring the woods and was taken by the grounders. They almost killed him, only to heal him.

The 100 threw a search party, and a few days later they found Jason as a trap for a tiger. He was dying.

At the end, with the help of Bernard and Steph, he survived. But he wasn't the same, the hopeful ball of sunshine he used to be was gone, for good this time. He returned to the shield he put back in the orphanage, but it was rotted deeper this time.

So when the 100 tried to decide what to do about the grounders, he said peace wasn't an option.

He wanted revenge, he wanted a war, and he got one.

After everything happened, he thought he was finally safe.

But then mount weather took the 100.

He didn't trust Lex Luther, he thought the peace he was offering was a facade, nothing was that simple in the world they were living in.

So he investigated, and when he found the grounders, he wanted to come back to Dick to warn him. But he was caught by Luther's guards.

He ended up managing to escape with the help of a grounder, an archer.

Roy Harper.

Roy helped Jason realize that peace with grounders could be an option.

So Jason found the survivors of the arc, while Roy went to Polis. Together they worked for a truce. And they succeeded.

Jason still didn't fully trust the grounders, but he was ready to do whatever it takes to save his brother and friends.

Together with Tim, Bruce, Roy and the grounders Heda he managed to come up with a plan to save the 100 and the grounders trapped in mount weather.

This plan obviously went to shit.

And Jason and Tim needed to make a choice, their people or the people of mount weather.

They choose their people.

[laugtherhyena]

Oh right uhh, Kokoro lives in -2+2 (And Emma, and also Hibiki)

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[discordiansamba]

his little flame sputters and dies.

he forces everyone to leave. he digs his fingers into his hair, trying to make sense of this- but he only ever comes around to one option.

katara is telling the truth.

but if katara's telling the truth, then it means everything he knows about himself is a lie. it means his father isn't his father. it means his mother never existed. it means he doesn't exist. but no matter how hard he tries to wrap his head around that idea, it just refuses to budge. he knows katara has to be telling the truth- that's he's been brainwashed.

but when he wakes up the next morning and looks at himself in the mirror, the only person he sees in his reflection is lee. he also looks like a wreck- his eyes are red and puffy. he never unbraided his hair last night, so it's sticking out in all kinds of ways. the growling of his stomach reminds him that he hasn't eaten anything since yesterday morning.

he cleans himself up. he braids his hair. he puts on earth kingdom green. he is not lee of ba sing se, son of yuna and lan-wei. that person does not exist. but he's certainly not prince zuko, either. at least lee is someone that he knows. he inhales. exhales. he needs to make something to eat.

he can't let this destroy him.

katara ends up joining him. he makes food and tea for them both, and finds himself calming down further as he does so. he doubts prince zuko knew how to cook, or make tea for that matter. lee does it as naturally as he breathes. the owner would always say that her tea shop would be in good hands, if lee were willing to take it over.

lee wishes he could. so what if he used to be someone else? he's lee now. would it really be so bad if he stayed this way? he doesn't want to go back to serve princess azula, knowing what he knows now, but... he could go back to his life in ba sing se. he's not sure he can forgive father, but he's eighteen. old enough to live independently.

he asks katara what his father did to him.

katara tells him. she'd told him before, but he hadn't believed her.

she doesn't know the full details either, she admits. but she knows that lan-wei changed him. it's not just that he made him forget his past identity as zuko- he's molded him into someone completely new. lee has his own past. his own personality, entirely separate from prince zuko's. there might be some overlap in places, but otherwise he's a new person entirely.

"is that why i still feel like lee?" he asks.

"that's part of it," katara says, "-but I think... I think your mind's begun to adapt to being brainwashed. it's so different from a joo dee's."

lee's brow furrows. he asks her what she means. she tells him that when they'd freed him from princess azula, she'd checked his mind. she'd already freed countless people- joo dees, she called them- from brainwashing after the end of the war, and she could tell right away that their minds had been manipulated.

but lee's mind? if she hadn't already known, she might not have have guessed. she had to look a lot harder to find it. the brainwashing he was made to endure was far more thorough than anything the joo dees ever experienced- and happened a lot more frequently too, she's willing to bet. his mind probably tried to protect itself at first, but at some point it just... gave up.

it stopped resisting, and started adapting.

"so," lee's brows furrowed, "-is that why I don't feel brainwashed?"

katara nods. you have the free will to make your own choices. it's just that those choices are being informed by an entirely new personality, and backed by an entirely new set of memories that he didn't have before. that was lan-wei's goal, she thinks. to perfect a form of brainwashing that was ultimately self-sustaining.

"...but I can't stay this way," lee asks, "-can I?"

katara looks at him. she asks if he wants to. lee bites his lip- and then slowly nods. yes. he wants to stay as lee. but he knows that's just because he can't imagine himself as anyone other than lee. he thinks about fire lord iroh. about the sad way he told him that he reminded of his nephew.

he wants to talk to him.

he tells katara that. she blinks- and then smiles at him. okay. she can arrange that. we can put off any decisions until then. lee just kind of stares at her. it's like she's presenting staying this way as an actual option. wasn't the whole point of bringing him here to make him zuko again?

"it was," katara says, "...but I think you should be able to decide what you want for yourself, lee. otherwise we wouldn't be any better than lan-wei. if you want to go back to being zuko, that should be your choice. and if you want to stay as lee...

...you should have the right to do that, too."

lee doesn't know what to think.

he doesn't understand why lady mai is here. he wants to say that katara manipulated her in the same way she wants to manipulate him- except. katara's been here the entire time. he knows that for a fact. another waterbender, then?

but lady mai had said they couldn't even do that.

he didn't understand. lady mai was one of princess azula's close friends, but according to her, the princess had been lying to him. and katara... katara was telling the truth. he closes his eyes, thinking back to the way lady mai would always watch him out of the corner of her eyes. to their occasional morning tea sessions together. if lady ty lee had always been friendlier to him than someone of his lowly station deserved, then lady mai had always been aloof and proper.

and sometimes, lee realized, she looked at him with pity.

he doesn't understand. it doesn't make sense. if princess azula was lying to him, if what katara and lady mai say is true, then...

...no. it can't be true. it doesn't feel true. katara says his father was the one who brainwashed him, but lee loves his father. his father loves him. he's always been proud of him. that feeling can't be fake, can it? it feels real. he closes his eyes for a moment. tries to imagine himself being prince zuko, the banished prince of the fire nation.

he can't.

there's a knock on his door. he doesn't know why he opens it, but they're all standing out there. he stares at them, wondering what they see then they look at him. who they see. when he looks at himself in the mirror, the only person he's ever seen reflected back at him is himself- is lee. but have they ever seen him that way?

"sit down," lady mai instructs, "-I'm going to prove everything to you right now."

lee moves, almost mechanically. the way he expects a brainwashed person would move. he doesn't move that way. he sits on the ground, cross-legged like lady mai tells him to. she tells him to close his eyes and hold out his hands. to time his breathing with hers. he asks what they're doing.

she tells him he's going to firebend.

"this is the way they test for it in the fire nation," lady mai says, "-close your eyes. focus inward. find your inner flame and bring it out."

this is stupid, lee thinks. he's not a firebender. but if he does what she says and can't firebend, then he'll know they're all lying to him. that he's not some fire nation prince. that he's lee. maybe once he proves that to them, they'll let him go home.

he wants to go back to ba sing se so badly.

lee draws in and lets out a deep breath. he concentrates inwards. he has no idea what an inner flame is even supposed to be. he's always felt a warmth in his chest, though. he concentrates on that, and then... how would he even bring it out?

he hears katara and sokka suck in a breath.

lee's eyes flutter open. there's a tiny flame flickering in his palms.

"congratulations," lady mai says, "-you're a firebender, zuko."

lee barely hears her. he can only stare at the flame in horror. he's a nonbender. he's earth kingdom. he shouldn't be able to firebend. this is impossible. this has to be a trick, his mind whispers to him. you know who you are. you're lee, son of lan-wei and yuna. you're from ba sing se. you're a tea server.

...was he?

[lokh]

oughh i wanted to do a cute laishuro take on the blu ray extras (what if laios had been eaten instead) but lets be honest. they absolutely would not have made it as far without laios

[corfisers]

i really need to finish this one day