#if he could openly grieve. what would he do?

[dirtytransmasc]

thinking about how Spider was neteyam's big brother. losing my mind. ripping out my hair.

was 'teyam scared of storms or the dark? did he confide these "childish" fears to his big brother? did he get shy with all the attention he got in the village? did he hold Spi's hand when he got nervous?

did Spi have habits with 'teyam like 'teyam had with lo'ak? did Spi mess with his hair or reach for his shoulder or cuff his neck?

did Spi ever worry for 'teyam after he "stepped up" and became the Big Brother when the humans returned? did he worry something would happen to him? did he want to protect him despite being a human? was he proud? did his pride outweigh his fear?

did he think about 'teyam after he was taken? did he wonder where he was and if he was safe?

what was Spi thinking when he saw the bullet hole in his baby brother's back? did he freeze when he saw the blood, when he realized he failed to protect him?

what was 'teyam thinking? when he looked to Spi, did he want him to be the big brother again, did he want to stop being brave and let Spi do it? did he want to say something?

I have so many questions. I don't think my heart could take the answers.

[longagoitwastuesday]

I actually like the last chapter. I think the ideas are very good. I have my qualms on how some things were managed, as I always do, but I think shonen authors get tangled in the expectations of a shonen to the point it jeopardises their writing, often even when they're not lacking in skills

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

—

Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

—

[gothicrazor]

Anything for you [P1]

Kurt Wagner x Fem!Reader || Rating: PG(?) || WC: 1.4k

Inspiration: Foreigner's God - Hoizer

Content Warning: afab reader, unrequited love (both reader + Kurt), Kurt pining

Authors Note: First time writing for X-Men! Please be kind to me I'm trying pookies, hopefully this turns out okay or I might actually weep! I dunno if anyone would want a part two of this, just lemme know ig??? Also let it be known I used deepL for the few things he said in German... Please don't hate me ���

Who knew the kiss on the back of a gloved hand could really tank someone's mood as quickly as anything else at a typical Saturday night dinner. Watching the gleam drain from your eyes across the table was something he's sadly used to now. Following your eyes to the end of the table to what he knew you were staring at.

His dear sister and one of his closest friends. Rogue and Gambit. The strongest "couple" next to their leader and his wife. A force strong and immovable. Rogue, too scared to stray. And Gambit, too loyal to look anywhere but her eyes half the time.

And it kills you. Anyone who knows you can see your heart break every time they connect.

Thankfully, no one seems to be paying attention to you, no one but the blue mutant across the table from you. He finds it hard to keep his eyes anywhere but on you. Always has since you met all those years ago. He's seen you at your best, the fierceness burning behind your eyes during the heat of battle. And at your worse... Grieving the loss of something you could never have in the first place.

Your chair screeches, moving across the hardwood of the dining room harder than you intended. Standing up too fast, everyone stared in surprise.

"I'm gonna turn in early." Scott's brow rose behind ruby quartz shades as he stood up.

"Everything okay?" You smile, trying to keep up the facade, not wanting to openly weep in front of the team you call family.

"Just a little tired from training." You grab the edge of your half-eaten plate of dinner before you're met with the rough hand of Logan next to you on your wrist.

"Leave it kid, go get some shut eye." His face almost looks slightly worried, as you don't even put up an argument as usual. Just nodding, you push your chair in and hurry out of the dining room.

Kurt watches you leave, tilting his head to watch you rush up the foyer stairs as chatter picks back up at the table.

"Do you think she's sick?" His ears perk up to the concerned whisper of Jean's voice, looking at Scott as he sat back down at the head of the table.

"It's not unlike her to keep quiet when she's not feeling the best."

"She's barely been eating more than half her food in the past week Scott, I'm starting to get worried. She hasn't been like this since the Professor died." Kurt's head turns, chiming in with his usual soft tone.

"I'll check on her after dinner." Jean and Scott both looked at him. Jean smiling softly as she squeezed his shoulder.

"Thank you, Kurt. She'd probably talk to you before any of us." He nods, his dark hair bouncing lightly before turning his attention back to dinner.

Walking down the hall, he stops at your door, glancing at your nameplate before raising his fist to knock. Freezing for a moment, knowing you'd expect him to come upstairs anytime after you left. Why should he bother to knock at this point?

But Kurt is quite literally a creature of habit. So he does.

Two soft wraps hit the door before grabbing the knob, edging the flat wood open to peek inside. Your room is still dimly lite, only the moon from your window cast over the person-sized lump under the covers of your bed. A soft mutter of your name leaves his lips, yellow eyes glowing as he looks down at the bed.

"Can I come in?" A whimpered 'yes' is all he gets in return, stepping inside with the subtle click of the door closing behind him. The familiar creak of the bed fills the room as he sits on the edge, tail curling over your legs covered by blankets. Hand meeting your side under the covers, eyes falling to their usual worried state, like every time he's comforted you this way before.

Rubbing gently over your lower back, he doesn't say a word, just feeling the slight tremble of your body hidden away from his line of sight. You sniff, pulling the blanket from over your head to look at him, eyes bloodshot and miserable looking. Something he's seen too many times before but still breaks his heart seeing you like this.

"Can you lie with me, please?"

"Anything for you, mein Schatz." He gets up, walking around the bed, pulling the covers back as he climbs in next to you. Fixing them back in place, you assume your natural spot of your head on his chest and his arm around your shoulder. The gentle rub of his hand down your bicep in a soothing gesture.

"Are you okay?" His voice barely raised above a whisper, his cheek settling onto the top of your head. You take in a sharp bit shaky breath trying to calm yourself.

"It's getting harder and harder to be around them... I don't..." You choke up for a second, breathing out a soft whimper.

"I don't know... How much longer can I stand to see them together... It's so unfair of me to feel this way because he'll never love me... Not like Anna, but I just can't... Stop it. I just - I feel terrible for so many reasons." Kurt hugs you tighter, knowing that feeling all too well. Unrequited affections for someone who'll never see you as anything more than a good friend. It almost hurts him knowing you're feeling how he feels constantly.

"I know, I wish I could take the pain away from you." You shudder, sniffling against his chest. Tears welling up in your eyes as you hold onto him like a lifeline, trying to ground yourself in desperation. Squeezing your eyes shut, the tears slipped, soaking the front of his suit.

"I feel so stupid." You whine, starting to hiccup against him, tears sliding past your lashes in groves. Kurt shushes you, moving his hand to your back to cradle you closer. Sharp claws raking over the back of your uniform, gentle touch as he always has with you. His hand moves up, thumb rubbing over your cheek and turning up your chin to look at him.

"You are not stupid, meine Liebe. It's okay to feel this way. The heart wants what it wants. Unforgiving or not, you can't help that."

"Why does it have to be him of all people?" His lips turned to a frown, seeing the hurt behind your eyes. Still wiping your eyes with his thumb, he just shakes his head.

"I wish I could give you the answers. Remy is... A kind man who deeply cares for those he loves. I can see the appeal. But you'll be okay. Eventually, I'm sure of it. You're very strong after all." You just blink, breath quivering as you start to calm down a bit.

"I'm strong..." You mutter under your breath, making him smile slightly before your head goes back to him. Finding his shoulder to lean on, you take in a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you exhale and repeating the words like a prayer.

"Ja, the strongest I know."

"Thank you, Kurt, I don't know what I'd do without you." You give a weak smile as you relax against him, feeling his head leaning against yours.

"And you'll never have to find out, that's a promise." You smile a little wider, a chuckle escaping your lips.

"Can you keep holding me for a little while longer?" He smiles against the top of your head, soaking in the shared warmth between the two of you.

"Of course." You sink into his body, putting your full weight against him. His grip tightened around you. Taking in a deep breath, his eyes wandered from your relaxed expression to the window. Watching the night sky as you slowly drift off in his arms.

Feeling you go slack in his grip, Kurt looks at how relaxed you are now. Thumb moving back over your delicate features like a feather. Something he's done too many times now. But you're so beautiful to him. He can't help but want to touch you. Lips pressing the crown on your head, lingering longer than necessary.

"Ich liebe dich..." His eyes shifted back down to your face, waiting for a reaction he never got. Good or bad. It's just another confession that's gone unheard dozens of times now. No matter how much he's said it.

Smiling at your sleeping expression, he moves down the bed. Shifting onto his side to hold you against his chest. His tail wraps around your waist as he keeps you close.

Cherishing the little moments, he gets to pretend he has your heart... No matter how much it hurts his heart.

♡Thanks for reading♡

[zarnzarn]

Penelope wakes up to the sound of screams.

With a gasp, she sits upright, straining her ears. The carnage is at the far end of the castle, the shouting and clanking of metal- but it is not her maids, or her soldiers who are dying.

It is the suitors.

Penelope swings her legs out of bed, silently making her way over to her mirror. She lights a candle and starts doing her hair and makeup, thanking the stars that she fell asleep in her best dress that night, and it was still fresh looking.

She looks at her own face in the mirror, older and lined. Feels her lips pull down as vanity passes over her, tugging at the unruly grey strands that poke out of her head, half-urgently trying to smooth out her face.

"Penelope," Athena says as she leans over her, eyes dancing with amusement. Athena, who has not appeared to her in four years. Her face is speckled with blood and her chest is heaving with fury- she must be down there too, in the bloodbath. "You know it doesn't matter."

"Can't I want to look my best?" She snaps, slamming her makeup box shut. Walks over to the chest that holds her jewellery and starts putting it on. "Sixteen years I have not seen my husband, I think I'm quite past anyone telling me what to do with regards to finally seeing him again."

A cautionary voice in her head screams at her to stop antagonizing Athena, so close to finally being whole, but when she turns, the goddess only has regret in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Penelope," She says, and Penelope stills, more than aware that it was very likely no one had ever received an apology from this goddess before. "Time passes differently in Olympus. What was four days ended up being four years, when I looked."

Tears prick at her eyes, but she forces them back with a sharp inhale. "That would explain it," She says roughly. "How much longer?"

Athena approaches her, armour clanking, and tilts her face up. When she presses a kiss to Penelope's forehead, she feels some of the desperate madness of the past years dissipate, leaving behind the sorrow-less certainty that she had been wise to wait, that she had been right.

Athena smiles. "Go."

-

She sees him before he sees her.

At first glance, she knows him, blood drenched and older though he is. He stands in the main hall, surrounded by bodies, and moves sharp and precise and inevitable as he takes down suitor after suitor, with none of them able to so much as land a scratch on him. Quick, moving in and out, with a tall, masked figure by his side and-

She clicks her tongue in exasperation, smiling. Sixteen and bloodthirsty, Telemachus stands by their side with furious satisfaction in his eyes as he clumsily shoots down each suitor that gets too close.

That absolute brat. He planned this! No wonder he was so happy this whole past week, when he'd been so morose the entire month before.

Penelope watches from the high balcony. Her trusted maids and all the subjects of the kingdom that still remain come running up the steps to help, some from the far reaches of the town, all gleeful- Ithaka is small, and shouts carry. She can see torches being lit across the city, when she looks, more rushing to the palace, taking out the retinues that had accompanied the men.

She takes a deep breath and makes her way down the stairs.

The brick walls around her swim in and out of focus as she walks, curiously far away. Her sandals sound out against stone.

She had been right. All these years, all this waiting- she had been right.

When she reaches the curtain, she stops and swallows. Sixteen years of waiting. She had promised him she would spend it happy, not grieve him before he was dead- and she had. Enjoyed the power, enjoyed raising her son, learning how to let the moments of grief rush over her and pass by every time she turned to see empty air. Made friends, gained allies, became skilled in politics like no other woman could so openly be. Ithaka flourished under her.

Let it end, she prays. Let that all be past from tonight.

She would give everything up for one more day with her husband.

Her hands are trembling when she pushes aside the curtain.

Odysseus stands in the middle of the room, panting as the last suitor falls, covered in blood. He's ragged, weary, scarred from all the horrors of whatever made him come back to Ithaka alone. Behind him, what looks like the entire kingdom stands together crowded as they stare, the ones who knew him crying themselves in shock, the ones who didn't studying him warily.

Telemachus says something and points to Penelope and she can see him stop breathing, same as her, when their eyes finally meet.

"Penelope," He breathes, swaying forward as he drops his weapons.

"Odysseus," She chokes out, as she forces herself to stop a distance away. Tries not to cry at the blatant hurt in his eyes as she does, at the frown Athena and Telemachus send her way. Feels rage climb in her chest- wants to scream at them both, at them all, that they cannot blame her. "You have returned."

"I have." He takes a step forward and they both shake. "To you. For you. I promised, didn't I?"

"Mother!" Telemachus bursts forth, dismayed. "Why won't you embrace him? It's father, it's really him, you waited so long for this moment!"

"You were too young to remember the shapeshifters that besieged our palace after Troy, my son," She says sadly. Watches grief at the fact settle in Odysseus' expression, then the devastated acceptance of her distance, tries not to let her emotions overweigh her caution at the love in his eyes as he allows her to do so.

Odysseus laughs suddenly, and her heart aches, her muscles cramp from how tightly she holds herself back, as he casually places an elbow on his son's head to lean on him, flashing her one of those grins she remembers so fondly, of the two of them being the only ones on the inside of a joke. It must be him, right? No shapeshifter could be so skilled, to embody the movements of his entire body so. "Don't worry so much, Tel. Your mother doesn't look at me unless I'm dressed in my best clothing- she would refuse to accept it was me either way, when I'm covered in all this blood."

Penelope aches. Penelope aches.

"So then I assume you wouldn't mind waiting until the daylight?" She smiles, half-fake. Her heart pounds as she turns to Eumeus and says, "Move our bed to the main hall for him, would you? I-"

She can't bring herself to speak further, turning back too quickly to look. Her stomach drops as Odysseus straightens back up with shock, her heart flips as hurt flashes over his face, and she's already running as he says in confusion and anger, "Damn you, woman! Did you take an axe to our fucking bed when I was gone-"

"It is you!" She exclaims as she throws herself into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as tight as she can. She sobs, and sixteen years of missing him spring to the surface all at once as she gasps for air in between tears, a smile on her face as she finally lets her mask fall. "Oh gods, oh Olympus, it's you, it's really actually you!"

Odysseus doesn't move for a moment under her, then says in a thick voice, "You fucking trickster."

And finally, finally, hugs her back.

"Don't be angry with me," She begs, voice devastated with her crying as she hangs off him. Holds onto him as if he'll disappear, escape her grasp again if she lets him go. "Don't be angry, please, I beg you, don't be irritated, or annoyed, I couldn't bear it-"

So long overdue was this reunion, and she spoiled it with her paranoia; if the first thing she did as a wife when no husband would do what he'd done for her was disappoint him-

"I am not," Odysseus says gently, cradling her face, holding her with the same desperation. Her ears burn with the sound of his voice, no longer a memory she had to guard fiercely against forgetting, every syllable just the same as she remembers it, saying new words. "I understand why, my love, trust me, I am only happy. I am only happy."

Penelope wails, her crown crashing to the floor with the force of it, shoulders shaking, and Odysseus holds her closer.

"Oh, Penelope," He whispers sadly. His voice cracks and he breaks down in tears too as they sink to the floor together. "My Penelope."

They cry on the floor like animals, a loud terrible din in front of everyone there, uncaring of who watches. Penelope tries to crawl into his lap, and he tries to crawl into hers- she has the wild thought that they need to both slit themselves into puzzle pieces so that they can fit together more tightly, to be satisfied.

Finally, they run out of tears, shaking on the floor ungracefully, still holding onto each other. She tries to press every inch of her body against his, even as the fear of having not seen his face while she embraced him makes her rear back to look, wiping off the blood to see him underneath. "You're home. You came back."

"I did," He says softly, eyes as adoring as she remembers them to be. She curls her fingers into his hair, relearns the shape of his face, traces her fingers over his nose and eyebrows. "Fought a lot of people to do it, but I did. I'm home."

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you," She chokes out and shifts so she can hold him as he starts crying again at her words.

"Penelope," He whispers, threadbare- her poor husband, who fought so hard to come back home, with the glaring absence of all the men he loved who went with him, who has something shattered deep within his eyes because of whatever the Fates put him through. "Penelope."

"I have you. You have me." Penelope chants, looking around until she catches sight of Telemachus and Athena, both smiling. Telemachus sniffles and wipes at her face, and it is with a start that Penelope realizes that the goddess is also crying when she reaches up to elegantly wipe at her face. Holds out a hand with a grin that feels more real on her face than any she's worn these sixteen years past. "What, you two require official invitations?"

All of them nearly fall over with the force at which the other two rush into them, and they all laugh. Penelope holds her family close, all four of them together once more, and looks beyond to smirk victoriously at all her handmaidens and advisors and all the idiots who'd told her to move on. Some lay their eyes down as she looks, some of them incline their heads in acceptance and respect, and a few of them shake their heads with a smile. Penelope will not be losing their trust anytime soon.

She takes a shaky breath and holds them all close. Her family. Her loves.

She's never letting any of them go again.

[fanfic-obsessed]

Failing to Thrive then Thriving in failure

I just had the funniest notion. Time travel comedy, but the twist is that Palpatine is the one to go back in time. 

So we start just after Kenobi, Palpatine has been emperor for about a decade, he succeeded. The Sith plan is complete, he has everything he had dreamed of and worked toward for a decade…and he is so bored. He never realized that 90% of his joy actually came from pretending to be a benevolent Chancellor and the intrigue of fooling people.  Now he has shown his true colors and could not go back to pretending (it simply would not work). Being the Sith in charge is not as fun as he thought it would be. Even getting to openly torture people has lost its appeal after 10 years.

It’s ok for Vader. For one Vader was never interested in those intrigues in the first place. For two 45% of Vader brain is taken up by trying to resurrect Padme Amidala, 50% is taken up by Obi Wan Kenobi (Palpatine is not sure if Vader wants to kill Kenobi, Kriff Kenobi, make Kenobi tuck Vader in every night and tell him is it going to be alright, Force Kenobi to help Vader resurrected Padme, or make sure Kenobi is eating, taking care of himself, and has a good enough blanket), leaving only 5% for everything else.  

Frankly if this is what Kenobi had to deal with before the war, Palpatine is somewhat impressed he got anything done.

Vader isn’t bored. Palpatine’s assorted lesser minions are not bored, they are living the dream of being as bigoted as their little fascist hearts desire. But Palpatine just could not find joy any longer. 

I do want it clear. Palpatine is not repentant. He does not regret the deaths that he caused, the genocide, the enslavement, any of it. He’s just bored. 

One day Palpatine finds a book, or maybe an artifact, or possibly a scrap of paper with an archaic formula. The title roughly translates to ‘Sith Master Time Travel’ (Listen The Son was also very bored, and being outside of Space Time meant He wanted to see what would happen). Palpatine is able to time travel, but only as far back as when he became a Sith Master. It was also a one time deal, he would not be able to use the method again AND it would destroy his origin timeline (not that that actually factored into Palpatine’s decision at all).  Not to mention he would essentially be possessing and killing his previous, alternate timeline self. 

Of course Palpatine time travels. He goes all the way back to the moment he became the Sith Master (it turns out the Sith titles are not just titles), looking at the still warm corpse of Hugo Damask, just as the Naboo crisis is wrapping up. 

Now Palpatine had already decided to do some things differently.  At first he was still working outward the Grand Sith Plan, if trying to keep his ‘Kindly Politician’ mask a bit longer, however he has decided that instead of Vader (or possibly in addition to Vader, if things get boring again) he will get Obi Wan Kenobi as his apprentice, figuring that there must have been a reason that every Sith Apprentice for 20 years ends up obsessed with the man (also because he thinks it would be funny to corrupt the Jedi’s ‘Guiding Light’). Dooku and all the pieces needed to start the Clone wars are already mostly in place. It is just a matter of maintaining until the clones are the right age.  So he does what he needs to to maintain the Empire building plans and decides to focus on corrupting Obi Wan. 

He fails, utterly. He fails so fully that Obi Wan did not even notice his attempts at corruption. Like he knew it would take time to corrupt a Jedi, he had done before after all, but he still expected at least a little change within the first year. There was nothing. 

And it was not a case of Obi Wan not trusting Palpatine. This is still a decade before the war. Obi Wan is a grieving, freshly knighted,  trying to keep up with a nine year old with somewhat unique trauma. Palpatine knows how to get Obi Wan to feel comfortable and trust him (Palpatine probably knows too well how to get Obi wan to feel comfortable and trust him, between Dooku and Vader). Obi Wan is just, for a given value, incorruptible. 

Now Palpatine’s obsession switch has been flipped. He went into it thinking that corrupting Obi Wan would be a fun side project, a way to pass the time.  He was wrong.  He knows from the previous timeline that torture would not be effective (Listen if the torture mask specifically built to corrupt lightsiders did not make a dent after a month it is pretty well proven that torture will not cause Kenobi to fall, Palpatine knows this) nor would killing Kenobi’s loved work (again, if it didn’t last time we have some pretty concrete proof). 

So now we have Palpatine trying every method he can think of to seduce Kenobi the darkside, always just shy of admitting to being a Sith or being creepy. To the point that he has actually forgotten the Empire building he was doing. He kind of even forgets to be Sidious.  He almost ghosts Dooku, before he remembers that Dooku is Kenobi’s grandfather(that is not the correct term, Dooku tries to correct Palpatine an even dozen times before giving up) and gets Dooku involved in the corruption that is STILL. GOING. NOWHERE.

Dooku basically becomes Grandpa Dooku to both Obi Wan and Anakin, and falls back into the Light while trying unsuccessfully to corrupt Obi Wan to the Dark. Due to darkside vow complications (also because I think it would be really funny) Dooku is not able to say, imply, or otherwise do anything to make the Jedi suspicious that Palaptine is a Sith. Also, to a certain extent he thinks that as long as Palpatine is focused on corrupting his incorruptible grandson, the other Sith is not thinking about galactic domination (To be fair he is correct).  

Palpatine spends most of his time trying to corrupt Obi Wan, while keeping up the act used to maintain Obi Wan’s trust. The thing is Palpatine is fully aware that Anakin in the original timeline was about observant as a particularly dense brick wall and would not have realized that the persona of ‘My friend Palaptine’ did not match the reality of ‘My pal Friendpatine’. Obi Wan would realize if his act was not consistent. 

So Palpatine decided to keep the act up 24/7.  And everyone knows that your actions become your habits become your personality. 

Somewhere in year 8 Palpatine forgets how to Sith. 

Technically he is still a darksider but not the extra layer of fucked up that comes from being an actual Sith. And he still has not even made a dent in Obi Wan’s light. He has also, almost single handedly, derailed the war that had been brewing and fixed about 40% of the corruption in the Senate.  All without killing a single senator.

Palpatine spends most of his time very confused. 

Palpatine lets his term as Chancellor end, having gone down in history as one of the most beloved Chancellors in history.  The Clones are found and mostly are inducted as an arm of the Jedi Order. Jango Fett is given a metric ton of therapy, which helps him see that the Jedi were not actually at fault for Galidraan (Jango had, in fact, been the person to escalate things to violence) before he is allowed to take Boba back into the galaxy. By that point the Clones want little to do with him. 

For the rest of his life Palpatine tries, unsuccessfully, to corrupt Obi Wan (who never noticed). At this point he is genuinely friends with a number of Jedi (He and Mace Windu have a surprising amount in common, including a love of the theater and a mild exasperation for Anakin Skywalker's antics). He is an honored guest at both the CodyWan and the Anidala Weddings (including a Jedi based wedding ceremony).

Honestly he is having the most fun of his life. 

He is also never caught as a darksider. He never figures out how that is possible either.

[jazjelspen]

when memories snow

alastor x overlord reader

(notes: songfic, angst, reader has similar powers to alastor, al and vox used to be friends in this fic)

-oneshot-

song used: when memories snow - mitski

You looked out your window to see the Hazbin Hotel in ruins, 666 News playing in the background as you stared off. You recently left the V's building after watching the wreck that was Alastor and Adam's battle through Vox's TV, sure it felt good seeing Alastor get what he deserved after what he did to the both of you but still.. lingering feelings of yours stayed present.

You knew he wasn't dead. You could feel it, his soul's presence still reeked as always it always has in hell.. but it was faint. His soul was far and you could feel it recovering,

That was all you could feel though, your powers limited to there.

You never really enjoyed partnering up with Vox, let alone the other Vs in general. Despite him being an ass to work with you enjoyed when you and Vox would complain to each other about how Alastor threw you both aside.

For Vox he was a friend, business partner, but to you-- he was your lover.

Despite how much you liked complaining to him you didn't exactly pay him much attention since he clearly just wanted to reel you in to work against Alastor, in a heat of anger and at the brink of tears you agreed, now you wondered if it was even worth it.

You loved him, you loved Alastor so much. You made so many good memories with him to the point that you couldn't even look at your home the same now that he's been there, nor could you look at the streets, the towns, the corners of hell you've both been in together. Too painful.

The way he left you behind was sad, truly. He was courting you for at least a decade or two and oh was he such a gentleman to you.. a real sweetheart. He'd hold out his hand for you to take when going down steps of stairs, offer you his arm to hold when walking, take you to outings full of wonder and awe despite the setting you both were in, he even gave you private gifts for when he noticed you were stressed out over your work or simply distraught over anything. Yes this seemed like basic relationship actions but to you it meant so much more.

Sure, he was never openly affectionate. He was okay with touch from you and all and even said a few little cheesy remarks towards you that at times that would make your face flush from how pure his words are despite the owner of the tongue that they are coming out of.

You both bonded over how similar your powers were, bonded over dance, music, singing and to you he saw you as a very interesting and peculiar individual with how different your own adventures were, adventures where he just had to come and see what you were to do to end the situation with and how.. even your his and your shadows played around and goofed off themselves.

To him, you were entertaining.

But in private? He was a dream, at times telling you sweet things that made you light-headed in the best way possible and on the very, very rare occasions did he ever land a kiss on you behind closed doors.

You were the only one to see him this way, so in the end it made you feel as if his love for you was true.

Right?

You loved him, you hated him.

You want to rip him apart in a mess of blood and guts but you also want to be near him again.

Conflicting feelings were raging a war in you, your love and your hunger for revenge killing each other slowly to see who would be the fateful victor in this.

Seven years ago on the day of one of your anniversaries he left you with no warning at all, leaving you worried sick and almost grieving. You attempted to use your powers to try to feel his soul somewhere, anywhere.. but it was as if it fizzled out- leaving traces of where he used to be.

You never moved on and seeing him suddenly come back after those painful years passed made you so happy.. feeling his soul walking around was like a breath of the freshest air of Eden, until all he did was only acknowledge everyone but you.. he fucking acknowledged Vox but ignored you and disappeared each time you came around and no matter how hard you tried it pained you immensely how slicker he got to avoid talking to you.

The killing sprees you both went on together? The dates? The care, the protecting.. you sacrificed one of your fellow overlords for him for his radio broadcast when he first came about because you felt like he was an interesting individual with potential. Was it all just-- for naught?

He seemed in love in his own special way.. so why.. why did he leave you with no words and now proceed to pretend as if you're nothing but a limp corpse.

You hated it you couldn't take it.

So you sought refuge in Vox, becoming 'friends' through your fresh hate of Alastor.

Once the news finished its broadcast you couldn't help but still feel a sense of anger rising in you, revenge bubbling in your blood through your skin as if begging you to take your own pound of flesh.

"When memories snow, and cover up the driveway."

Your voice began to sing, singing wasn't something you did since that fateful day your heart was ripped inside out. But.. it was only fitting you finally did now.

"I shovel all those memories, clear the path to drive to the store."

Your feet turned away from the window to walk towards your desk, you looked around briefly to notice how unkept it was.. never fully cleaning your own study due to your emotional rollercoasters.

"And when memories melt," your eyes narrowed down in emotional pain, remembering one of your most exciting escapades with him before he left. "I hear them in the drainpipe."

You leaned against your desk as you hurriedly opened one of your drawers to then pull out a hidden black and white photo of Alastor and you celebrating one of your anniversaries.

You were so happy that day.

Tears began brimming in your eyes as your hand started trembling and wrinkling the photo with how hard you were holding it.

Do you think he'd visit you?...

Your throat cracking slightly yet your singing never dared to falter.

"Dripping through the downspout.. as I lie awake in the dark."

No, no. If he truly wanted to see you again he would've done it six months ago, but he seemed to be more interested and entertained by the Princess of Hell and her dingy hotel.

As the sound around you amplified so did your heart beat, your anger, the exploding rage. Your shadow began to move on its own as an evil smile presented itself on the floorboards. It laughed, it laughed at you yet whispered encouraging words.. encouraging you to get him to regret leaving you behind. The same shadow that laughed at you when you first realized that you were truly in love with him.

The shadow grew more and expanded itself to your wall and over the window, looking down at the window where the ruins of the hotel was visible to you. It laughed and whispered, mumbled and encouraged you.

As your sorrow weighed on you and made you physically lean against your desk with your hand over your heart, the emotional ache washing over you like a tsunami's ocean wave. It felt as if that dreadful day was repeating,

"And if I break,"

You turned around to face the window again, your body leaning on your desk with a pained look on your features. You wanted to stop hurting--

"Could I go on break?"

It will, it'll stop hurting. Your shadow told you so, and it whispered so many secrets and ideas to you you couldn't help but feel confident in what you wanted to do next.

You won't stay down, you'll pick yourself up.

You stood up straight and off from the desk, a newfound optimism seating itself next to your heartbreak. It even reached to your vocal cords with it now making your singing sound more stern and steady.

"Be back in my room, writing speeches in my head."

You took a few steps towards the window, your shadow only growing bigger and widening itself across your room.. basking it all in darkness. It devilishly cheered for you, for your up in coming revenge.

You began to grin, feeling your power enhance with this fire in your heart raging and dancing like a tango.

You raised your arms up as if welcoming in this new revelation, happily bringing in this new purpose.

"Listening to the thousand hands,"

"That clap for me in the dark."

Your grinning face stayed plastered with your emotions as you sang your last words, your song finishing soon after.

In the end, rage won over your soul, overlooking the love you have had for him.

You will get your revenge against Alastor.

Whether he truly felt the same way for you or not, you weren't going to ask yourself that anymore. Avenging yourself was all that mattered.

You picked up your phone, tapping it a few times before it started ringing.. your intended target to help you in your plans answered.

"Vox, do you still have some free time on your hands? We need to have a discussion about the Radio Demon."

You weren't regretting this, you won't regret it.

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Is it just me or do 2003 Leo and Raph have the best relationship out of all the iterations? It's my favorite, at least. Like they do get snappy with each other sometimes but their spats aren't nearly as often, as intense or festering as long as some others I've seen.

It was refreshing that Raph didn't challenge Leo's position as leader nearly as much. Sometimes he would challenge the decisions he made while leading but not undermine his position. He learned and mostly accepted that Leo would be a good leader in childhood and he backed him up nine times out of ten (even when Leo didn't know it: e.g. the "If Leo needs us, we're here. But let's see what this is all about." An instance of Raph pulling a Leo-type move, hanging back to recon rather than rushing in, while Leo's judgment was clouded. Learning from each other and supporting even from a distance)

How ready they are to be there for each other? How openly protective they are of each other? Like they're not as coy or begrudging or emotionally constipated as others about showing how much they care. Small gestures, big gestures, it doesn't matter. Leo's having trouble focusing on a plan because of the noise? Raph makes the noise go away. Wasn't Raph the first one who wanted to look for Leo when his morning training (getting ambushed by the Foot) ran unusually late? Or the scene where Leo's suddenly getting pulled away by an unknown magical force and he calls out to his brothers in alarm. Don cries, "Oh, no!" as he and Mikey stand there and watch; they freeze up. Raph dives headlong after him instantly.

And how they take it when they can't be there for each other? He dove headlong and he didn't actually make it in time to grab Leo's hand before he's gone. Master Splinter has to physically hold him back as he's still shouting and fighting to get to him (and then he has to be restrained again by magic when it looks like Leo's in danger in the 1v1 he was pulled to. Screw the fact that he's obviously outpowered by the almighty binding rules of the duel, he'll go kicking and screaming anyway, that's his bro!) And the scene where they're on top of a moving car, Leo loses his grip on Raph and he falls and from Leo's POV, time slows until he sees Raph land alright. Raph facing his fear ick about bugs, jumping down to defend Leo from the big boss bug with no hesitation when he sees him get stung? And of course when he cries just the once (as far as I recall) in the whole series when Leo's seriously hurt. How he makes me cry in SAINW as he crawls to Leo's side, reaches out for him, calls his name with his dying breath, his last word is his brother's name as he falls beside him, hand against his??? And that was after being estranged in that what-if future! LIKE BRO THAT SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM

Even just the two or three lines where Leo's waxing poetic about their family, being completely sincere, and Mikey bursts out laughing and teases him for being a sap. Raph immediately tells Mikey to lay off and that Leo's got a point.

They're just so good. They have a few arguments like all siblings do but there is zero doubt that they love each other to pieces and they don't hesitate at all to show it on the regular. And outside of that estrangement timeframe where they were traumatized and grieving and in a literal apocalypse where they lost all hope, they didn't let their relationship fall apart the way some other iterations did. (Like I love 2007 but that fight on the rooftop? Where Raph could have killed him? I watch it and I can't help but think to myself, "2003 Leo and Raph would never." We saw them have a tussle on a rooftop and the moment there was a possibility he put Raph in real danger, Leo came to his senses and dropped everything to make sure he was okay. I dunno)

Asfjskjfks this is all just biased four AM rambling. The point is I love them, your honor, best/closest/healthiest R&B dynamic duo forever in my heart <3 (Natural disclaimer: I don't say any of this to crap on any of the other iterations. I like them all! I just like 2003's portrayal the most)

[rock-in-robins]

so like reverse robins, if done right, i love em. anything reverse robins i ever write will never have Steph become Babs. it doesn't make sense to her character for her to become oracle, would she be great at it, absolutely, but it doesn't make sense.

there's always debate on whether it should be Steph or Tim to die and more or less become Jason. my answer is that Tim get's joker jr'd and kills himself (+ the joker if your so inclined (but joker would have to be revived somehow for plot reasons) (you can make it Bruce if you want more angst)) then Steph becomes robin because Tim always talked about how gotham needed a robin and she wanted to honor him in a way only she could. then the thing with black mask happens and she still fakes her death travels, heals, grieves, and comes back when she heard bruce picked up a new kid. (Jason wasn't robin yet, just living in the manor but Steph new it was only a matter of time)

so she comes back to gotham and decides she's gonna take care of crime alley her way, and revamps her old spoiler costume. (she may not have grown up there but she was a few streets away and she knew what a place like that did to kids) (she also has no ties to Bruce anymore so her no killing thing gets a whole lot more lax)(she kills her father - that's how bruce and the others found out shes back in town). and openly feuds with black mask over territory and brutally maims him but like just a bit.

Then Jason becomes robin and six months later Tim is back. he's different and definitely a bit more unhinged, but efficient as ever. he quickly takes over the drug trade and helps Steph get rid of the worst of the worst. But doesn't do the whole try to make Bruce kill the joker thing, instead he makes Bruce watch as Tim does and warns him that if he tries to revive the joker again (damian aka nightwing def killed the joker & Bruce brought him back) that they Will Have Problems. Tho he is going as Joker Jr. as a fuck you and a threat to pretty much everyone, after all they all knew what happened to the 2nd robin.

In summary Tim & Steph split up the Red Hood traits

Duffle bag of heads - tim, he's dramatic

Died (like burried in a grave and crawled out died) - tim

Guns - Steph

The joker - tim (but steph will shoot the fucker on sight so help her god)

Black mask war - steph (obvi)

Crime alley - steph mainly (but tim lurks around and every crime alley kid & sex worker knows that if they ever need something JJ will take care of it no questions asked)

Drug trade - tim

Scaring/pissing B off - both, they make it a game

Murder - both as a treat

[suzannahnatters]

Let Your Knights Weep

One of the big things I've had to train myself out of when writing medieval historical fiction?

The stiff upper lip.

This used to really bewilder my editor, who for some time attempted to nudge me away from having my grown men weep and wail and blubber, but for me it's an essential part of the setting. Whether in grief or fear, medieval people did not hold things back.

Here are some of my favourite quotes to explain.

First, a couple from two great 20th century medievalists:

CS Lewis in his Letters put it this way:

“By the way, don't 'weep inwardly' and get a sore throat. If you must weep, weep: a good honest howl! I suspect we - and especially, my sex - don't cry enough now-a-days. Aeneas and Hector and Beowulf, Roland and Lancelot blubbered like schoolgirls, so why shouldn't we?”

Dorothy Sayers, in her fabulous Introduction to her translation of THE SONG OF ROLAND, speaking of Charlemagne discovering Roland's body on the battlefield:

Here too, I think we must not reckon it weakness in him that he is overcome by grief for Roland’s death, that he faints upon the body and has to be raised up by the barons and supported by them while he utters his lament. There are fashions in sensibility as in everything else. The idea that a strong man should react to great personal and national calamities by a slight compression of the lips and by silently throwing his cigarette into the fireplace is of very recent origin. By the standards of feudal epic, Charlemagne’s behaviour is perfectly correct. Fainting, weeping, and lamenting is what the situation calls for. The assembled knights and barons all decorously follow his example. They punctuate his lament with appropriate responses:

By hundred thousand the French for sorrow sigh; There’s none of them but utters grievous cries.

At the end of the next laisse:

He tears his beard that is so white of hue, Tears from his head his white hair by the roots; And of the French an hundred thousand swoon.

We may take this response as being ritual and poetic; grief, like everything else in the Epic, is displayed on the heroic scale. Though men of the eleventh century did, in fact, display their emotions much more openly than we do, there is no reason to suppose that they made a practice of fainting away in chorus. But the gesture had their approval; that was how they liked to think of people behaving. In every age, art holds up to us the standard pattern of exemplary conduct, and real life does its best to conform. From Charlemagne’s weeping and fainting we can draw no conclusions about his character except that the poet has represented him as a perfect model of the “man of feeling” in the taste of the period.

OK, now let's dig into some quotes that I found just in Christopher Tyerman's Chronicles of the First Crusade and Joinville's Life of St Louis:

Truly you would have grieved and sobbed in pity when the Turks killed any of our men....

As for the knights, they stood about in a great state of gloom, wringing their hands because they were so frightened and miserable, not knowing what to do with themselves and their armour, and offering to sell their shields, valuable breastplates and helmets for threepence or fivepence or any price they could get....

When Guy, who was a very honourable knight, had heard these lies, he and all the others began to weep and to make loud lamentation....

They stayed in the houses cowering, some some for hunger and some for fear of the Turks....

Now at vigils, the time of trust in God’s compassion, many gave up hope and hurriedly lowered themselves with ropes from the wall-tops; and in the city soldiers, returning from the encounter, circulated widely a rumour that mass decapitation of the defenders was in store. To add weight to the terror, they too fled…

In the course of that day’s battle there had been many people, and of fine appearance too, who had come very shamefully flying over the little bridge you know of and had fled away so panic-stricken that all our attempts to make them stay with us had been in vain. I could tell you some of their names, but shall refrain from doing so, because they are now dead.

I could go on looking for quotes in all the other medieval literature I've read, but that would be beyond the scope of this Tumblr post.

In the meantime, this leads me to make some comments on how trauma was perceived.

In Jonathan Riley-Smith's The First Crusade and the Idea of Crusading, the author discusses the mental breakdowns suffered by the first crusaders during the second siege of Antioch, which caused many of them to flee at the moment of direst need:

In these stressful circumstances it is not surprising that the crusaders were often very frightened. At times, indeed, they seem to have been almost paralysed by a terror that they themselves could hardly comprehend. … When the crusade was bottled up in Antioch by Kerbogha's relief force it was gripped by such blind panic that there was the prospect of a mass break-out and on the night of 10 or 11 Juney 1098 Bohemond and Adhemar had the gates of the city closed. It is worth noting that many of those whom later chroniclers, writing after the events in comparative comfort in Europe, vilified for cowardice and desertion seem to have been treated more charitably by their fellow-crusaders, who must have understood what pressures they had been under.

--

In conclusion: the way we feel about things today in the English-speaking isn't necessarily the way people felt about things in the past (and this goes for other cultures, real or imagined, too). I'm continually catching myself writing people with stiff upper lips and emotional reservations, and having to remind myself that the culture was different back them. If a grown man wanted to weep, he could. That's a good thing. (Oh, and my medieval historical fantasy? Check out the Watchers of Outremer series on Amazon or wherever books are sold!)

[brucewaynehater101]

So in the body swap au. We always put the swap in somewhat after everything. What if they got swapped when Bruce was just grieving Jason. I think that would highlight Tim's role as Bruce's parent/caretaker. And Bruce in a teenage body would be more prone to show his real feelings. They stay swapped for that long time. To the point when Jason attacks Bruce in Tim's body(titans tower event). Tim freaks out because that's his son.(and his body) badly injured.

Tim draws up a plan to get Jason back in the family. Jason is pleasantly surprised that "Bruce" changed his ways and is overall a better father.

Now is up to you guys if Jason discovers he attacked bruce and not the "replacement" or he tries to reconcile with "Tim" not knowing thats bruce.

Oh, you cruel, cruel anon. How I love your brilliance in this.

You are correct! The bodyswap au tends to focus on the batfam post Damian's arrival. You are also correct that it could be so fucking painful and analytical and wonderful if we start this out right after Jason's death.

Now, the question is when, exactly, do they switch? Is this pre-Tim!Robin or after he either talks to Dick or wears the suit for the first time?

Pre-Robin, there will be major issues establishing hierarchy, so to speak. Tim's this random kid inhabiting Bruce's body who swears he knew who Batman was before being put into his body. This would be difficult to navigate as far as balancing Bruce's loner/self-destructive tendencies with his distrust. At what point is Bruce willing to forsake asking for help when a complete stranger, much more an untrained kid, is piloting the Batman? Till when will Bruce try to hide this?

Now... Post Paris training arc, Tim has some experience and skills under his belt. He's got a tentative relationship with Bruce. Dick will be more involved at this stage with "Tim," though. It could be heartbreaking for poor Bruce to see his son, his son that he fights with, be so openly caring and loving not knowing it's Bruce. Also, for Bruce to watch Tim mend Dick and Bruce's relationship for Bruce? Brutal :D

To add on, for however long this charade lasts, Tim loses his childhood for that amount of time while Bruce relives his. Tim is forced to be an adult (even more so than he was as Robin), while Bruce has to go to school and shit.

Depending on how long and when this starts, we can add angst with Tim's parents! Bruce having to deal with Jack as "Tim." Jack's last moment with "Tim" actually being with Bruce.

Bet you Tim regrets maintaining the charade like Bruce wanted instead of seeking help after all of that :)

[lazycats-stuff]

I hope it’s not too weird but can I request batfam a batbro!reader, older than Damian but younger then Tim that isn’t very emotional when it comes to death? Like they don’t understand why people are so hysterical over death. Maybe an animal died and they just go “oh they’re dead” like it was nothing.

Hope ur doing well, I’m projecting so much with this but I can’t wait to see what you do if you do. I love ur writing, can’t wait to read more 🫶

Alrighty then. Thanks for the encouragement.

Summary: (Y/N) is not really emotional about death. Bruce was a little bit worried.

Warnings: talk of death and it's elements, death of animals, this is just Bruce being worried and thinking about his son.

Bruce knew that his kids have some problems expressing emotions. To almost all of them, death was a touchy subject. Bruce knew that better than everyone. But his second youngest son was a whole another case about it.

Why, I might hear you asking? Well, (Y/N) had no reactions to death. Bruce always waited for (Y/N) to get hit with the reality, but the reality and the aftermath didn't hit him. Never. Bruce understood that everyone grieves differently, that was in human nature. There isn't really a rulebook on how to grieve.

No human thought the same and no human grieved the same. But to Bruce, (Y/N) was a whole another case. He loved his son and when (Y/N)'s parents passed, he wasn't really sad. He was... fine.

Bruce waited for the aftermath to hit and he waited for (Y/N) to crumble and he was more than ready to help him and he was more than ready to catch him.

But the aftermath never really hit him. Bruce would be lying if he said that (Y/N) wasn't sad, but it wasn't a normal grieving behavior either. He was so worried that he asked Black Canary to talk to him about mourning and grieving.

Canary said that there was nothing wrong with (Y/N). She just told Bruce that he didn't grive in a normal way, but that wasn't any reason for concern. He wasn't a sociopath or a psychopath.

Bruce could breath a little bit easier. But sometimes (Y/N)'s calm demeanor was the thing that could get him in the most of trouble. It was just recently when a bird that Damian was caring for passed away.

Damian was sad and the rest of the brothers were sad too so they decided to bury the bird in the yard. Everyone made little speeches, expect (Y/N). He didn't see the point. It was just an animal. Everyone was emotional in their own way, expect for (Y/N).

" (Y/N)? Anything you want to say? " Bruce prompted, putting his hand on (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" I don't have anything to say. The animal is dead. That's all. " (Y/N) said, looking down at the tiniest coffin that he has ever seen. Damian fumed. If it weren't for Dick, Damian would have lunged at (Y/N).

Bruce could only sigh and lead (Y/N) away as they were done with the ceremony. He really needed to talk with (Y/N) about being sensitive when it came to death. Sure, you don't have to cry, but still, have some empathy for those who are suffering.

" But Bruce, I don't understand why people are so emotional about death. I mean, it happens. It's a natural process. We are all slowly going towards our deaths. " (Y/N) said after the talk he had with Bruce.

" I know. But people have different approaches to death. Some grieve openly, some in private, but one thing they have in common is that they are all in pain. Animal or a human. " Bruce explained to his son.

" I should apologize to Damian then. " (Y/N) declared, standing up. If Damian doesn't try to kill him first. It was 50/50.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for not wanting to go out for dinner with Granddaddy?

CW: long post

My (43, FtM) husband's (39,M) family experienced several very grievous losses, including my husband's stepdad and his maternal grandmother, in 2022. MIL is not taking things well, which is to be expected, but she has a tendency to use hubby's deceased dad against him if he can't or does not wish to do something (e.g. bursting into tears and going "I wish your dad was still here, he would have known how to fix the chainsaw and trimmed the trees!" "I wish your dad was still here, HE wouldn't have told me to call a plumber for the toilet!" Also going on utterly unrelated rants that upset everyone in our home and blaming it on her grief.) Worth noting she hasn't ever pulled these tricks with hubby's younger brother (27M) despite him living with her. Also worth noting that she has said some really nasty things about me, my gender and sexuality over the last few years simply because I encourage him to stand up for himself, and has apologised to him but never to me. Nonetheless, we are family and we abide. (This is relevant backstory, I do not need to be told she sucks, we been knew.)

PRESENT! Since Grandmother (hubby's grandmother, who hated me even more openly than MIL does for being trans and turning her grandson gay, and always played her kids, grandkids and great grandkids against each other) died, Granddaddy (84M, hubby's grandfather) has been a bit at sea. "NTA!" i can hear you shouting, but Granddaddy is actually a solid dude-- has never misgendered me, is unfailingly kind to me and has always made me feel like part of the family in a way *no one else* in hubby's family does. He's lovely, funny, intelligent-- used to work in aeronautics and loves that i love his sci fi books, and adores exchanging silly cheesy jokes with me when we hang out. He's *great!* 10/10 Granddaddy.

MIL is of the opinion that Graddaddy needs to be taken out to dinner *every night*. He can never have a night alone; he can never call an uber to go out by himself; and we certainly cannot make a meal and take it to his home to eat in. He MUST be taken out to dinner EVERY night because it's the only social interaction he gets.

It's killing our wallet, y'all-- we aren't poor, but we have three kids. We've whittled it down to us taking him out twice a week, but he doesn't want to go to McDonald's, he wants to go to the local Italian or fish place, and it's *not* cheap, especially when paying for six! MIL "takes him out" five times a week (which usually means dropping him off and going to the gym while he makes waitresses uncomfortable because he's from a different generation), but she has decided two days a week are on us (we aren't just going to drop him for play dates because that doesn't make him OR the waitstaff happy!). Mind, we never agreed to this-- she just decided it, and if we argue against it we get hysterics about hubby's dad.

I am autistic and truly do not like going out more than a couple times a month at most. I have urgently suggested that I could make dinner at Granddaddy's a couple times a month, but this is NOT acceptable according to MIL. We HAVE to go out, he's GRIEVING and LONELY, isn't he?

No, no one has actually asked Granddaddy how he would feel about this, and I am a monster for even asking them to.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[deansbeer]

tides of change ⎯⎯ PROLOGUE.

DUO! JAMES KELLY x F!READER.

⎯⎯ returning home to new orlean's help your mother with funeral arrangements and grieve the loss of your sister, lauren. you find solace in your niece and nephew — her kids.

YAP SESH! this is basically an introduction for the series! but don't worry james will make his appearance very soon <3

WARNING(S) angst | death of a loved one | grief | emotional distress. ୨ৎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT! | minors do NOT interact.

the sky was overcast and dreary as you looked out the window of the plane, matching how heavily your heart felt in your chest. you had gotten the frantic call from your mom just a day ago, unintelligible sobs coming through the speaker as you struggled to make out what she was trying to say. once you had managed to calm her down enough, the words still rang in your head — your older sister lauren was dead.

shot down in the middle of the street on her way to work, a senseless act of violence that had ripped another loved one from your life. you and lauren had always been close growing up, her taking on more of a motherly role for you after your dad passed when you were young. the news had devastated you, a raw ache settling deep in your bones that only growing distance from new orleans could numb. but now you were returning, having to face the painful reality you had tried to escape for so long.

the cab pulled up outside the familiar green house you had spent your childhood in. everything looked the same yet felt wholly foreign now. you paid the driver and got out, dragging your suitcase behind you as you walked slowly up the weathered wooden steps of the porch. you could hear noise from inside — no doubt your mom was surrounded by friends and family offering their condolences. steeling yourself, you rang the bell and waited.

the door swung open to reveal your mom, her usual brightness dimmed by tired eyes puffy from tears. "oh honey," she breathed, pulling you into a tight embrace. you hugged her back just as fiercely, both of you finding solace in the comfort of family. after a few moments, she pulled away, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "come in, sweetie. everyone's been expecting you."

you nodded, following her inside. the living room was filled with more people than you could count, all turning to offer you sad smiles or hugs as you made your way through. your mom led you to the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee. "i'm just so glad you're here. it helps to have you for lauren's children."

at the mention of them, a fresh wave of grief crashed over you. aiden and lily, your beloved nephew and niece, who had just lost their mother in the worst way. "how are they doing?" you asked gently.

your mom sighed. "as well as can be expected i suppose. aiden tries to be strong for lily but i know he's hurting inside. they're upstairs if you want to go see them."

you nodded, giving her shoulder a squeeze before heading to the steps. you climbed slowly, dreading the pain you knew seeing them would bring but needing to be there all the same. stopping outside lauren's childhood bedroom, now occupied by her kids, you took a steadying breath before knocking lightly.

"come in!" came aiden's voice.

you opened the door to find them sitting side by side on the bed, coloring books and crayons scattered around. lily's eyes lit up when she saw you. "auntie!"

you managed a small smile for her sake, coming over to sit on lily's side and pulling them both into a hug. "i'm so sorry i couldn't be here sooner."

aiden just nodded, ever the serious eight year old. but lily clung to you, always the more openly affectionate of the two. "mommy's in heaven with grandpa now, right?"

a lump formed in your throat at her innocent question. "yeah sweetheart, she is. and i know she'd want you both to know how much she loves you."

you talked with them for a while, trying your best to comfort the grieving children as they grieved the mother they would never see growing up. eventually, though their growing tiredness became evident, and you put them both to bed with soft kisses to their foreheads before retreating back downstairs.

the crowd had dispersed some by then, leaving your mom washing dishes in the kitchen. you moved to help her dry. "how are the kids holding up, really?" she asked cautiously.

you sighed. "well they're alright? i guess. aiden seems to be shouldering a lot though, trying not to show how sad he truly is. and lily... she just misses her mommy." your voice broke on the last words.

your mom pulled you into her side, rubbing your back comfortingly. "they have you now though. and i know your sister would be grateful to have you here for them."

you nodded mutely, not trusting yourself to speak. the weight of responsibility for lauren's kids now rested heavily on your shoulders. you couldn't imagine their pain at such a tender age, having the stability and love of their mother ripped away. but you were determined to be there for them, to honor your sister's memory by helping to raise them the best you could.

the following week, preparations blurred by in a haze of funeral arrangements and grieving relatives. you focused your energy on aiden and lily, keeping them entertained and trying to give them as much normalcy as possible through the sadness. the service was a sombre affair, tears falling freely as lauren's casket was lowered into the ground beside your father's plot.

after, you helped your mom host the gathering back at the house. old friends regaled stories of lauren through watery smiles, no doubt wondering how someone so full of life could be taken so prematurely. as the crowd dispersed in the evening, a heavy tiredness settled over you. all you wanted was rest to escape the grief for a while.

"why don't you go on and get some sleep, hon. i've got things handled down here," your mom insisted, ever perceptive of your drained state.

you gave her a grateful hug. "thanks, mom. i love you." you head upstairs and collapse onto the bed with a tired sigh. the soft mattress enveloped you in comfort, lulling your mind towards sleep.

just then there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. "come in," you called quietly.

the door opened to reveal your niece lily, clutching her favorite stuffed animal tightly. her eyes were filled with tears as she looked up at you. "i had a bad dream, auntie. can i be with you?"

you gave her a gentle smile and opened your arms. "of course sweet girl. come here."

lily hurried over and climbed into bed next to you. you wrapped her in your embrace, rubbing her back soothingly until her tears subsided. "it's okay, you're safe now. i'll be right here all night to keep the bad dreams away."

eventually, her trembling slowed as exhaustion overtook her small body once more. you placed a soft kiss to her forehead, watching as she drifted into peaceful slumber curled up against your side. finding comfort in caring for lauren's children helped dull some of the aches in your own heart. for now, sleep was what you both needed most. and so with lily's quiet breaths filling the silence, you closed your eyes and surrendered to rest at last.

TOD SERIES TAGS ⎯⎯ @starlitblair @emotionallybruisedx @anakin-pilled @spcncershasting @freezerbride95 ◞ ⟡ ݁.

comment OR send an ask to be put on the TAGLIST.

[buffkitties]

So many people think Hinata was just dense (don't get me wrong because he can be and definitely is a little dense), but most of the time that he didn't respond to Komaeda's obvious flirtation and confessions, they were deliberate attempts at ignoring him because of his own worry and need to process the situation + his feelings. Hinata has a tendency to leave anytime he needs to process a situation or a fact regarding specific people.

He wasn't ignoring him to be rude or dismiss his feelings either. He just needed a moment. Every time he left, he still listened to what Komaeda had to say if he added something, like when he made sure to hear Komaeda's confession while walking away.

Hinata had undeniable feelings for him, from the many times he didn't decline his advances and simply didn't give an answer because he couldn't, to the way he grieved Komaeda in chapter 5, to the point of getting angry at him and resenting him for dying because he wanted him to live, and to the point of getting defensive over anything wrong said about their relationship (or things regarding Komaeda in general) and even trying to imagine what Komaeda would be like in the trial. Even small things, like how hurt he was at the thought of Komaeda not trusting him (which is very similar to how Komaeda felt about him) really show it.

He couldn't process his feelings properly, and allowing himself to love Komaeda was not something he could do. Their circumstances were really harsh, and there was just no place for healthy romance. Their relationship is already romantic, anyway, even if they don't do things like kissing or more intense things, since romance isn't all about that. They show each other that they trust and believe in one another many times, and there's an undoubted connection between them.

The only thing that would change if they got into a relationship would be the fact that they'd hold hands or be more openly affectionate with each other more often, really.

[atinystraynstay]

Little Star - Lee Minho

Synopsis: Saying goodbye is never easy. A bit of the weight of sadness is lifted thanks to your boyfriend, Lee Know. While he might not always have the right words to say, just being present with you meant more than words could ever be said. You were his world, after all. He would go to every extent he physically could to bring you comfort.

Pairing: Lee Minho x reader Genre: Angst - mourning and grieving, comfort at the end

Warning: mentions of death (pet) Word Count: 1.6k

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Never before has Minho driven so fast. However, hearing the way that you spoke on the phone made it more urgent than ever that he was beside you. He didn't even say goodbye to the other boys.

"Wait what? Right now?" He spoke. He jumped up, eyes scanning around Chan's studio for his belongings.

Han could sense the urgency and helped Minho get his bag. All the boys were on standby, waiting to see what they could do for their friend at the moment. Chan already gave the nod to Lee Know that he could leave. Minho mouthed a 'thank you' as he remained on the phone with you.

"Y/n, sweetie, breathe. I'm coming, okay? I'll be there in 15 minutes. Wait no. I'll be there in 10."

You were in the private room towards the back. Your phone was on the countertop by the cotton balls, tongue depressors, and treats for patients. You were waiting for Minho to text you that he arrived, but you were trying to spend your final moments with your beloved pet.

The receptionist desk had turned on the electric candle at the front - a signal that silence was expected in the lobby. Seeing the light was on from the glass door, Minho tried his best to calm his breathing before walking in. He didn't want anything to stand in the way of getting to you, or upsetting you.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. The vet was one of his least favorite places. Being a pet owner himself, he knew how crucial the vet was. He just dreaded moments like this.

Approaching slowly, he looked at the receptionist who offered a friendly smile. "Hi," he said softly. "My girlfriend brought in her dog. Um, she texted me," he awkwardly said. Of course the receptionist could have an inkling why he was here, but it was just heartbreaking for Minho to say outlaid.

The receptionist nodded before standing up, gesturing towards the door towards the back hallway. "They've been waiting for you. Go ahead and knock," she said softly. Minho thanked her quietly, giving a small bow of his head before quickly walking in the direction of you. As he walked, the hallway seemed to stretch forever. He just needed to get to you.

Your dog was your whole world. While Minho wasn't necessarily the biggest fan of dogs, he had a soft spot for yours. Your dog greeted him openly, wanting to bounce and lick him with their tail wagging. Even though you had warned Minho your dog tended to be standoffish with encountering males. Minho seemed to be the exception, for you and your dog.

Minho also knew the importance any pet holds in someone's life. Soonie, Doongie, and Dori were the whole world to Minho. They were like his children, so he would go above and beyond for them. You felt the same way about your dog. This was a part of owning a pet that nobody ever wanted to get to.

You adopted your dog your freshman year of college. You were volunteering at the animal shelter when you began to take your dog on walks. You two had an instant bond that everyone at the shelter recognized. Before you entered the shelter, your dog would just lay around on its bed. it showed no interest in people who might want to adopt him. Until you.

When you appeared in front of the kennel, your dog showed signs of life for the first time in months. His tail wagged, and his ears picked up. It was a match made in heaven. Little did you know that you both would end up saving each other.

For the past 6 years, you and your dog had each other. 3 apartments, 2 major moves, 1 college graduation, a few guys coming in and out your life. Your dog quickly getting acquainted with Minho as he began to come around more solidified that Minho was the guy for you. I mean, you already knew that from the butterflies in your stomach and the way your cheeks heated up being around him. Your dog's approval of your new boyfriend was everything though.

That was 2 years ago. Last month, you noticed your dog was not showing interest in your evening walks. You figured it might have something to do with the change in weather. Sirens went off when your dog began to lose his appetite. Before, he was known to finish off the bowl in a matter of seconds. Almost like piranhas being fed. Your dog not even showing an interest in his kibble concerned you. You just never knew you'd end up here.

Once Minho reached the examination door you were in, he let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. From the other side of the door, he could hear your sniffling which shattered his heart.

He knocked gently, not wanting to startle you, especially given the circumstances. He was here to support you, and help mend your broken heart. Not cause more damage. He heard you sniffling quickly, almost as if you were trying to get yourself together. He would have cracked a joke about it, but this wasn't the time or place. "Come in," you called out, your voice soft.

Slowly, Minho pushed open the door to reveal himself. You seemed to also breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of your boyfriend.

"Hi, sweet girl," he whispered. He stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. Usually, you would have thrown your arms around Minho. Not today. You stuck beside your beloved dog, who was looking at Minho was the saddest eyes while keeping their head against the cold metal of the examination table. Your hand was running along the back of your dog.

Seeing it was just Minho, you began to feel the tears fall from your cheeks. You watched as he kneeled down to by eye level with your beloved company. "Hey buddy, I know," Minho cooed. The sight alone was enough to bring you to turns. You saw your dog try to wag his tail, maybe getting from side to side once before stopping.

Knowing your dog was ready to go, it broke your heart. But it also meant that you were making the right decision. Even though you wished your go could live forever, you didn't want to be selfish. Finding the cancer mass on his stomach, and finding out how much pain he was in and would continue to be if you tried different treatments just didn't sit right with you.

Minho kissed your dog's head lingeringly. You couldn't sworn you saw tears forming his eyes which made more tears swell up in eyes. Minho was not the type that liked to show emotions so easily.

Keeping his hand by your dog's left ear, scratching the one spot your dog loves, he stood up to be by you. His free hand moved to wrap around your frame, pulling you in close. He pressed a kiss into the side of your head, squeezing you gently. You rested your head on his shoulder.

You weren't ready to say goodbye to your little star.

For a moment, it was silent between the two of you. There weren't words that Lee Minho could say to make you feel better. Whatever you did need though, he would stick by your side and provide for you.

Knock knock

Both you and Minho seemed to stop breathing. Your hands stilling on your dog. The door pushed open, revealing the vet who wore a comforting smile. Your vet admitted she was saddened by the circumstances. Your little star seemed to have captured the hearts of everyone who interacted with him. "I'm glad you could join us, Mr. Lee," she spoke softly. "Are you two ready?"

Prior, the vet had allowed you time to say goodbye to your dog. You also asked if it was okay to wait for Minho to arrive. "Whatever you need. I'll be around in a little to check in," was what she told you.

You both nodded your heads as you looked down at your sweet boy. He fought as hard as he could. "You can either stay or you can leave. Whatever brings you the most comfort." You immediately pick your head up to look at the vet, shaking your head. Your comfort right now didn't matter. There was no way you were going to leave your baby boy alone.

The vet understood immediately before stepping to the side, allowing the vet technician in. She gently pushed the cart into the room, carrying the needles and medication they would use during the procedure.

"We'll get started." The room was silent, it was still. You and Minho kept caressing your dog's fur, trying to pour in as much love and comfort as you could. You could not even given to fathom what might be going through your dog, but you sped you were easing some of the pain.

To help ease your own, Minho's thumb caressed your lower back. He continued to press kisses into the side of your face and head. His kisses melted into your skin. It made you appreciative for such a partner like him. He would travel the galaxy for you, and you would do the same for him.

You couldn't dare watch the nurse inject a needle into your dog. You kept your eyes on your dog's face, seeing as he didn't wince at the needle. He didn't wince or try to squirm away. You looked at Minho who was also looking at you.

You two had each other. Through thick and thin.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Author's Note: I wrote this lil piece after realizing it's been one year since my parents had to put down my childhood dog. I truly believe Minho would be the best person to comfort you during such a hard time 🩷