#it's strange because the line between “trust” and “will keep a secret for you” is just barely Not the Same. just barely

[catchyhuh]

who's best at lying?

actually you probably know all these answers already. anyway,

the spot for worst is kind of tied between goemon and zenigata, because they’re both bad at it in different ways. goemon can manage enough of a pokerface and just nod, but when you ask for details, he flusters and struggles to keep up the bit. zenigata gives TOO many madeup details, and his face locks into this obviously tight serious expression before he cracks and just gives up the truth. but being honest both of them are still not actually HORRIBLE liars. if you really needed them to come in clutch for some cause they deemed “worthy” or whatever they’d still hold up pretty well. just… maybe fall on the other ones first

lupin comes in at 3rd place (haha) because he will keep that shit locked down. as we’ve discussed, he has more emotional maturity than you might initially expect of him, and he’s smart enough to now how to direct a lie believably. however, he will still get a bit over exaggerated with it, and he might actually REVEAL the truth if it would benefit the situation somehow, so if its a govt secret, yeah, tell him, but if its like, gossiping about friends, yeah do NOT fucking tell him

2nd place is jigen. because he just does not care. you will tell him and he’ll immediately forget. even if he cares about where the secret is coming from, he just always forgets stuff like this. unless it’s numbers. if it’s numbers, he remembers, but honestly, how often to people expect you to lie about a bank pin number? so through selective memory, yes, jigen is an INCREDIBLE liar. he doesn’t even KNOW whatever bullshit truth is stressing everyone else out!

LET’S MAKE SOME NOISE FOR OUR HARDLY SHOCKING NUMBER ONE SPOT FOR FUJIKOOO!! it does not matter how large or small, how meaningful or petty, fujiko can lie and will lie FOR you just because it’s so easy for her. and she can keep up with lying too! forget the betrayal thats. thats unrelated. lying almost ALWAYS benefits her more than the truth so she’ll keep up the bit for fucking anything as long as there’s enough in it for her <3

[yutarot]

IN PERFECT SYNC [j.jh smau]

betrayal [noun]  /bɪˈtreɪ.əl/

1 : the act of dissapointing a persons trust, hopes or expectations.

2 : revelation of something hidden or secret.

3 : failure to keep or honour a promise, principle or cherished memory, etc.

twelve — betrayal. wc: 1k

café neoro. 4:14pm

if you were to say you weren’t confused by the sudden cafe invitation, you’d be lying.

as you enter the front door, triggering the cafe’s bell to ring, you spot giselle sat in the far corner, biting her nails; a habit she does only when she’s dreading something.

that’s weird.

she spots you, dropping her hands to the table and nodding you over to come and sit with her.

“you’re here!” she squeals, “you’re here..”

the atmosphere is strange, you must admit and there’s something odd lining the air between you. so you begin to drone on about your class in efforts to ease off the weirdness.

“urg, im so sick of my professor just constantly leaving the hall. im literally paying to be here and he can’t even be bothered to stay!” you whine as you set your bag down beside you, sitting opposite giselle on the cafes patchwork coach.

it’s a cute little place, you and the girls come here often to catch up when you don’t see eachother for periods of time in exam season.

but for giselle to ask you here alone? when neither of you have exams for months?

there was something going on.

“honestly, i wish my professor would leave sometimes.” she replies. “she’s so boring!”

you laugh, spending the next 20 minutes complaining about your courses and gossiping about overheard conversations.

that’s until you decide to bring up giselle’s absence from the party the other night.

“where did you even go?!” you ask, too excited for your own good. but you know giselle.

and you know she’s forcing her smile.

“oh, just some room upstairs, no idea who’s. could have been chenles for all i know.” she laughed.

you take a sip of your coffee as you laugh in reply, winking at her jokingly. “so, who was the guy? was he good at yk… that stuff..”

she giggles as she nods. but her smile withers.

“look, yn.”

the sudden change of atmosphere brings you right back to the feeling of the beginning of your meet-up, the cold, stark vibe of something being wrong, of something eating away at whatever is between you.

“i told myself that i should be honest with you, so i will.” she continues.

“what is it, giselle? you’re scaring me.”

she’s silent for a moment.

the silence kills.

but you soon find out that it isn’t the silence that is killing you, its the thought that in these mere seconds, giselle is counting down the moments until she tells you who it is.

until she knowingly breaks your heart.

“it was jaehyun. the guy i slept with was jaehyun.”

your mind feels heavy, unattached even.

how could she do this? after everything you went through. she was the one who was there the entire time, she was the one who comforted you, telling you how he was in the wrong and how he deserved the worst kind of punishment for what he did.

and yet, in the end, she must have never truly believed it. because now she has betrayed your trust.

and she has betrayed you.

“what?” you can feel your vision going foggy, tears welling up in your eyes.

“i know, i know. i shouldn’t have, but can you really blame me?”

“yes!” you raise your voice, and your thankful that the cafe is near empty. “giselle…”

there’s a pause of silence as she lets you figure out what you want to say.

but you continue. “you know what he did to me. you hugged me as i cried when i found out. i had no friends because of him, none! all the girls in highschool hated me giselle, do you know how that feels?”

you’re crying at this point, but she listens, watches as you burst into tears.

“do you know how it feels to find out your bestfriend had been shit-talking you to all the girls just so he could get in their pants?! he had used me as a pickup line giselle, he had embarrassed me, telling girls he thought i was ugly, annoying, that he only tolerated me to make himself look better, all so that they wouldn’t get jealous! do you know how that feels?”

“…no.”

“so why would you do that?” you quieten down, almost to a whisper as you struggle to get your words out. “you know how much he hurt me, about how i can never be friends with half the girls in this college because to this day they still laugh and point. and yet, you don’t care about any of that.”

“it was one night, yn.”

“and yet you still felt that that one night was important than my feelings. how do u think im going to look when people find out my best friend has slept with him? i already look stupid enough!”

“yn, noone will know, i promise.” she replies.

“i know. that’s enough.” you stand up, leaving giselle sat there as you make your way to the door as you let the tears fall.

you feel 18 again, you feel the eyes, the giggles as you would when u walked down the hallway with jaehyun, unaware of what he had been doing behind your back.

jaehyun was probably so smug right now, knowing he had not only used you in highschool, but in college too, and with your own bestfriend on top of all that.

so now, you hate him even more that you ever did before.

you’ll never understand him, you’ll never know why he did what he did.

but there’s one thing you’ll know you will always do:

you will always hate him.

mlist — next

notes; so!.. i guess the truth is out now….. hope u guys don’t hate me too much! 😄😄 (btw there won’t be a chapter tmr bc im busy all day and don’t have the next chapter written, the next update will be sunday! sorry😞)

taglist — open; @https-yeonjun @chenlesfavorite @therealbobbyshloby @f6llsun @jkslvsnella @nanaxwi @cloudmrk @neocrashed @vernonburger @vividwritess @taeeflwrr @mmjhh1998 @cyjzzl @stareaa @minkyuncutie @mrkleelvr @dudekiss3r @nattan127 @slayhaechan @jaeveil @tynlvr @mslora @nosungluv @grassbutneo @dokyriu @girlz4jaem @axo-l0tl @yyangj3lly @solvrse @m1ng1swife @gentlepeach @xiuriii @soobinbunnie5 @tocupid @apolloxxivmin @ctrlstar @gyuguys @tokitosun @i-kai @flamingi @mrkleelvr @en-dream @queenrachelpink @ssweetreveries @swanyvess @flaminghotyourmom @hyuck-me @cryingforjae @hizhu @starfilledgaze

[kingconia]

TWISTED WONDERLAND'S ROYAL BOYS WITH S/O, WHO IS THEIR SWORN PROTECTOR

Riddle Rosehearts. ❤️

— You are something between his protector, and, basically, a... Tutor? Governess? It is hard to tell, but his mother insisted on keeping him safe and controlled;

— You tried to do that, by the way. But it killed you to see him struggling, being stripped away from a proper childhood;

— From the other side, there wasn't much you could do. If his mother noticed some strangeness, she would find him a new guard, and you wasn't sure that they will be as kind as you;

— You secretly left him some chocolate and other tokens, writing him about how proud you are. He figured out that it was you, of course, but both of you never discussed it;

— You follow him to the NRC, and that is where you could finally act freely around him. Though, you still follow a strict rules—knowing how much Riddle values them—you still try to prove him that life is much more than that.

•

”Lady Y/n, I hope you understand that I could get you fired,” Riddle says, voice coming so small that it is hardly threatening. ”You are crossing lines.”

You smile, lowering your head instinctively, as you kneel in front of him.

”Of course.”

”You are disobedient,” he continues, his bottom lip trembling. ”It is against rules, and you know that. You should be punished according to them.”

”I understand. That will be done,” your eyes are meeting his. ”But for now, my majesty... Will you blow your candles?”

Riddle stares at the little cake that you made yourself, quietly and secretively, while he studied throughout the day, and lets out a very quiet sob. His eyes are watery, when he nods.

”And, please, don't forget about your wish.”

He nods again, still not trusting his voice. When he finishes, you are clapping at him proudly, rushing to serve him a cake.

I can have everything I want, but all I would ask, it is for you to stay by my side, Lady Y/n.

He never punishes you for that, in the end.

Kalim Al-Asim. 💛

— A sworn protector? Oh, please, he thinks you are his friend from the very beginning. And your attempts to explain to him that you are here for completely another thing, fail;

— You are really fond of him, but you feel like allowing him to see you as a friend is a direct threat to his safety, and therefore, you always deny him and his attempts to become friends;

— Kalim is really reckless, and sometimes naive. It gives you a heart attack all the time, and you can't help but be clued to him, just in case if anything happens;

— Kalim doesn't really take you seriously, though? Yes, he knows you are powerful, and you can fight and kill, but, eh, what else? You are sweet, and you are his friend anyway;

— Still, it hurts him when you so actively refuse to be called as one, insisting that you are a mere guard. Not because of himself. He just thinks it is sad that you consider yourself to be just a tool under the royal family.

•

You walk soundlessly, as you move behind Kalim, keeping the distance in ten steps, following the common royal code.

Neither of you speak, and Kalim seems to be not in the spirit. Which is rare and disturbing, but you assume it is something related to Jamil.

”Am I allowed to ask a question?” You dare to murmur, voice so quiet that it is barely heard.

”...Yes, Y/n,” he answers immediately.

Sometimes, you don't speak for days, mere being his shadow, nodding and shrugging if questions asked, trusting Kalim to understand. That is why your voice is always a music to his ears, a very awaited sound.

”Had something happened between you and Jamil, my prince?”

He stops, and you stop as well. Your brows furrowing, waiting for the answer.

”Why would you care, Y/n?” He wonders suddenly. ”Jamil is clearly not a threat to my well-being. If anything, he keeps me alive simply by cooking.”

You know that as well. Yet, you can't help but worry about his state.

”Because...” Your voice trails off, as you can't say a true reason behind your question. ”No, you are right, of course.”

Kalim ignores your last sentence, before finally turning to face you. His expression is thoughtful, with a slight curiousity on the bottom of his eyes.

”Could it be... That you care about me as a friend?”

You gulp, and he notices that. But you can't deny it. Lying to him wasn't something you could do, anyway.

”...It could.”

His face brightens.

You can't take it back now.

Malleus Draconia. 💚

— His grandmother chose the fairest, the strongest fae to the role of his sworn protector, of course. She loves him, she wants to make sure he is safe, all the time;

— Malleus was a quite likeable person, and you grow fond of him in an instant, promising yourself to keep him safe all the time;

— But who would've thought that it is not murder attempts that you will ought to protect him, but evil words of his peers?;

— Watching him being lonely, mistreated and misunderstood made you sick. More than anything in the world, you want Malleus to be happy and fit in the society, but it is a hard task, even for you;

— Unlike Kalim, he doesn't call you friend, but he really wants too. He is too shy, and fears that he mistook your responsibility as a guardian as kindness.

•

”Please, be careful, my prince,” you mutter, eyes fixated on Malleus's back as he works on making gargoyle, working with a stone and carved knife. “You put too much strength, and it can hurt you.”

Malleus sighs, but slows down as you asked him to. Your shoulders relax, and contained with his pace, you return to reading a book you brought with you.

”I am fae, lady Y/n,” he says. ”Just as you, I am quite immortal and very hard to hurt. You shouldn't be worried about little scratches.”

You are aware that Malleus will not die from a single cut. Yet, you are genuinely concerned about his state in every possible way, starting with physical well-being, and finishing with mental one.

”Perhaps,” you agree reluctantly. ”But, my prince, I care about you deeply. Not just as your sworn protector, but as a... Ah, how Lilia says that? A part of the family, right. You are a part of my family, my prince. It is only natural for me to— Oh! My prince!”

You can't even finish your sentence as the stone cracks in two pieces from careless, too nervous, hit from Malleus. You run to him, so worried, instantly taking his bleeding hand in your own, that can't notice the redness of his cheeks.

”Family...” He whispers.

”I told you to be careful!” You hiss, completely forgetting about subordination. “Ugh...”

Yet, he manages to give you a little smile.

Now, he knows more.

Leona Kingscholar. 🧡

— As a second to the throne, Leona might or might not be in danger all the time, and, of course, Farena found him a sworn protector eventually. In fact, he found a kid, to grow up around Leona as his guard;

— In the childhood, he always fought between an urge to send you away and humiliate, and to talk with you about his interests, because no one cared about him;

— But the fact that it is your job to be around him, made him to stop most of the time. He couldn't consider your interest in him as a sincere one;

— It didn't get better later. Quite opposite. When both of you became a part of NRC, he dismissed you completely, telling you that from now, his only servant is Ruggie;

— You felt betrayed. Not just because you was replaced, and it was your only job, but because you genuinely cared about him all these years, despite everything.

•

”Huh?” Leona glances at a fancy box on his table. ”Ruggie, whose gift is that?”

His birthday was a mess—in a good way—and he spent a lot of time on accepting gifts from his mates and other housewardens. But just as he thought that he finished, he finds another one! Ugh. Just his luck.

”Oh... It is from Y/n.”

Leona frowns.

You hardly speak nowadays, and though he misses you—it is hard not to, when both of you were together for decades—he will never admit that aloud. You stopped trying to contact him too, after he ignored you fully a three times. Which is fair, but, maybe, if you pushed harder, he would gave up...

”Why would she gift me something?” He mutters, hands coming to unwrap it.

It takes from him some time to understand what you got on his birthday.

A self-made chess set from the wood, where every single figure means something to him. But most importantly... The King one has his face on it.

His chest tightens instantly.

He misses you. He really does.

When the postcard falls out of the box, he loses it completely.

It is an old photo of both of you, still as a kids. It has you, smiling softly as you do Leona's little braids, who is settled between your legs, looking drowsy.

It makes him smile instinctively.

«To my king, and to my prince. But most importantly, to my first friend, and to the kid, who loved taking care of his mother's garden. Happy birthday, Leona Kingscholar. May you will be always happy.»

He presses a postcard to his chest.

Your birthday is in three weeks. And Leona knows what he is going to gift you this year. He only hopes you will accept him back.

[bluesidez]

Hi I saw your req open and I flew here ehe-

Hear me out please 😭

Miguel is a geneticist (someone who works around denetics) and sometimes he doesn't understand the programs that he 'made' and Lyla has to help him. That makes Peter B. and the spider-teens very suspicious of him.

What's even more suspicious is that once a month he leaves the Spider HQ to who-knows-where.

After some stalking investigating, they find out that every time that he leaves; he goes to a park to meet [Reader], that is the one who helped with all the tech he has at HQ.

When he returns the next day, he is confronted about it and explains that [Reader] is an old friend and he trusts them with the Multiverse secret. However Peter B. and the others obviously saw the mutual attraction between both of them so they help out Miguel confess to [Reader].

Fluff + a little suggestive with Gn Reader please ^^

Anyway drink lots of water and keep yourself healthy!! ❤❤

[Undercover Lover]

lab tester: @hikaru-sama 🩻

pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!Reader

summary: Miguel is willing to stop the world for you, you just want to be the small part of his world that makes it better.

content warning: fluff, longing from reader and Miguel, the spider-teens are all menaces (as in they all have chismosavirus), Peter is Peter, a little suggestive but nothing crazy, I also made Miguel’s relationship with the teens pretty adorable (Papa Miggy 🥺)

word count: 5.8k, halfway proofread (don't ask...)

a/n: This request is not outlandish in any way, btw. It's very cute! I hope you don’t mind that I added a little extra to the programming aspect. THANK YOU TO THE MIGGY SERVER FOR YOUR HELP AS ALWAYS! I have been wallowing in the chats for who knows how long. I thought it would be cute and funny. Also, I've been doing better with my water intake! I hope you're proud. 🥺

Miguel blew out a tired breath, eyes blurry after staring at the same set of files all day.

“Lyla, could you replay the scan from this morning?”

“I don’t know, can I?”

Miguel frowned as his eyes panned to the flickering yellow glow, “Are we doing this right now?”

“Doing what?” Lyla posed with her head tilted in her hand.

“Lyla. Replay the scan from Earth 450-”

“Here’s what I found on scams on 4chan.”

“I said scans not scams- what are you talking about? And what is 4chan?”

Lyla switched to a pose that mimicked The Thinker, her heart-shaped glasses morphing into ones made of stone.

Miguel shifted his weight to one side, hands on his hips as he watched Lyla float around his desk.

“Pull up the LYrate Lifeform Approximation code.”

Lyla snickers, glasses shifting to match the marks of a clown’s face, “You don’t know how to work that, buddy.”

“I didn’t ask you to tell me that, I asked you to-”

Lyla opens the file before he can finish his spiel.

“Now, what?” Lyla whispers with glee. “Gonna hack into the motherboard? Break down the firewall?”

Miguel ignored her and read through the constant formulas, coding that he's never even seen before becoming longer and longer.

Lyla popped up right in his peripheral view, pulling out one of the smaller codes to highlight, “What’s this one mean?”

Miguel squints at the line, “Something about how you respond to tone?”

“It’s my hair color,” Lyla’s voice is high and giggly like she was anticipating his completely wrong answers. “What about this one?”

“I, I don’t know. Your jacket?”

“Voice modulator,” the code danced around him as Lyla switched her voice to something of an old Hollywood star. “You’re not very good at this, tuts.”

Miguel felt a strange chill as Lyla walked around with a long white dress instead of a jacket and her brown hair in curls falling down her back. She laughed at him some more as she pulled her now, thick-rimmed triangle-shaped sunglasses to the top of her head.

“Lyla-”

Miguel’s watch jolted, a notification blaring at him. He answered with haste, mind frantic.

“Miguel? Is something up with Lyla, because I asked her to find this Mysterio’s dimension, and she started playing some wrestler’s theme song instead,” Jess huffed, throwing the villain's body over the back of her motorcycle. “Now, he won’t stop singing it.”

Miguel felt his head start to pound, “Something’s going on with her. She’s not functioning at her normal state.”

“You’re never functioning at a normal state,” Lyla sighed dramatically, arm over her head with wind blowing around her. “Always so tense!”

“Oh my god?” Jess’s eyes went wide as she took in the Lyla at Miguel’s side. “Why does she sound like that?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m shutting her down until I can fix it. Just send the Mysterio back here.”

“You can’t turn me off, Miggy! Don’t you want me to sing for you?”

“Yeah, hurry up and log her off. She’s freaking me out.” Jess ended the call with a disgusted face.

With her gone, the room was filled with Miguel’s thoughts and Lyla humming and brushing her hair in a vintage mirror, something she would have never cared to do on a regular day.

Looking at the lines of coding in front of him, there was no way he was going to find what was happening.

He reached across his desk to a new screen, searching for a certain folder. Miguel laughed to himself as he read the title.

Don’t open unless it’s ABSOLUTELY crucial to your health…and well-being. .3.

Miguel would consider this a crisis.

He tapped the folder, watching as a sprout of several different colors surrounded him. He shifted it through the lights, some of them being pictures of you and him, some of them being animated GIFs of cats, and others being helpful guides to small technological problems. He kept searching until he found a yellow tab that read “LYLA? LIGHTS OUT!”

With one click, Lyla went from twirling and singing in heels to being dormant, gone to the Spider Society. Letting out the breath he was holding, he shifted the files back into the folder and geared up to make the announcement.

“Attention Spiders,” Miguel held his watch up to his mouth. “Lyla will be down for maintenance for a couple of hours.”

He could hear the collective groan from the society all the way in his office.

“And I will try my best to get her up and running for future missions. Until then, please send any anomalies directly to Margo and stick to local crimes as well as protecting your respective neighborhoods.”

As soon as he ended the announcement, Margo was flooding his watch with back-to-back memes. Miguel remained confused watching a little girl in a cowboy hat complain to her grandpa while he dismissed her.

“I can send someone else down there to help you.”

“no because if anyone breaks my tech, it’s coming out of YOUR 🫵🏾 paycheck”

“Everything comes out of my paycheck.”

“whatever dad”

“?”

Perturbed, but not wanting to waste any more time, Miguel locked his office and called your number.

Two rings and you were picking up the phone.

“Hey, Spider-ider!”

“Hi,” Miguel refused to admit how the nickname sounded cute coming from you. “I need your help with something.”

“No ‘How are you?’ or ‘Sorry I haven’t checked on you in forever.’ Just straight to business, huh?”

“Sorry,” Miguel collected himself. “How are things? Did you manage to get the job with that tech company?”

“Why, thank you for asking, Miguel! I’m pretty good. Things are different! I did end up getting that job, but the manager is eerily creepy, so I’m trying my best to pile up the meanest HR case or try to wiggle my way into a new department. So far, the former is slowly but surely working, not sure if my sanity can take much more. How are you?”

Miguel's eyebrows shifted a bit, “You know you can just call for my help if anything goes wrong, right?”

“Miguel, you’re protecting so many people. More than I can even fathom, actually. I’m not going to ask you to stop to check on me.”

You should. He’d drop everything.

“It wouldn’t take much from my end, I could just-”

“Miguel.”

He bit his cheek, knowing you wanted to move the conversation along.

“How are you?” you asked again, tone back to normal.

“I’m neutral. Same thing as always. Now, it’s just that Lyla was really unbearable today.”

“Unbearable how?”

Miguel went into every detail, pulling in some last-minute reports from other Spiders that managed to use her before he shut her down.

“So you’re telling me she glitched out, wore an alligator head, and integrated ‘Flat Fuck Friday’ into every conversation?”

“Well, that was just one of the many cases. Is that, is that all you heard?”

“No, I got it,” you fixed your face to try and hold back your laugh. “It sounds like she hit her funny bone.”

Miguel looked up at the ceiling and back at you, “This is serious.”

“And I’m being as serious as I can be!”

“She’s causing all of this trouble because of a funny bone.”

You laugh at Miguel’s deadpan tone, “Ok, so technically it’s called a laughing virus. It’s been hitting a lot of major search engines for some reason, but Lyla is the closest to human-like AI there is, so it’s a funny bone!”

“As stupid as that is, I need your help to come fix it.”

“Aw, you need me to come check your work?”

Miguel avoided your gaze, “There is no work. I couldn’t tell one line from the next.”

“But Miguel, you were doing so good last time. What happened?”

“I-I don’t know, I thought I had one right but I mixed up tones with shades.”

“That’s still on the same playing field, so you got something right! That’s good progress, Miguel.”

“Mm.”

“I’ll be there soon. Don’t do anything crazy, although you’ll probably just loom over the desk dramatically.”

Miguel opened his mouth to rebuttal but you already ended the call with a laugh.

With truly nothing but his thoughts, he hurried to clean his space. There were a few loose wires and an empty box from the cafeteria scattered around.

By the time you were tapping the code into his office door, his platform was back on the ground and he’d just swept up some dust that managed to build in the corner of the room.

“Don’t clean up now just because I’m here,” you watched as his shoulders jumped a bit at your voice.

“I’m not,” Miguel huffs and sets the broom against the wall.

“Sure.”

Miguel comes closer to you with his hands on his hips.

You were probably the main reason that Lyla was the way she was, sarcastic and immature.

The only difference was Miguel could mute Lyla or switch modes for some peace. For you? It was non-stop. The only way he knew how to get you to stop was a method that’s been crowding his dreams ever since he met you.

He saw your lips moving at a mile per minute, but nothing was really reaching his ears.

They looked so soft, so perfect. He wondered if he should just let the society function on its own for just a few more hours.

“Miguel!” You waved your hands in front of him. “Lyla being down has really stressed you out, huh? You’re unfocused.”

He cleared his throat, “I still have a lot of work to do.”

“Well, let’s get to it!”

Miguel moved so you could walk to his desk, heart racing.

Whatever it was you were about to try to teach him wasn’t going to stick. He just knew it.

“Hey, Miguel! You know, I was wondering if we could implement some type of spider-baby daycare? MJ is pretty busy these days,” Peter strided into Miguel’s office with a wiggly Mayday strapped to his chest.

The platform was down, but the serious figure was nowhere to be found.

“Miguel?”

Peter tried to feel him out, but there’s no way anyone could miss Miguel in plain sight.

“Hm,” Peter put two fingers out for Mayday grab. She squealed glee, taking one finger to chew on. “If I were a Miguel, where would I be?”

He pondered through the halls, eventually finding himself at the entrance of the cafeteria. Mayday looked up almost as if she was disappointed.

“I need fuel to think!”

Peter ran down the line grabbing his usual: a 2099 burger, a large fry, and a medium cola, he’s dieting!

At the end of the line, a familiar voice called his name.

“Hey, kiddo! How’s it going?” Peter made his way to the table occupied by the younger spider crew.

Miles squinted at him, “Not a kid, but it’s going good! Have you seen Miguel? He was supposed to be training me an hour ago, but he’s not answering his watch.”

“Funny that you say that,” Peter stuffed his mouth with a handful of fries. “Went to his office and he wasn’t there.”

“What is with him and disappearing lately? It’s not like him,” Gwen mumbled. “I was supposed to report to him not too long ago and he wasn’t here.”

“Time is an enigma,” Hobie was tuning his guitar. “Glad he’s finally taking advantage of it instead of chatting about doomsday.”

“True, but he missed part of the big party we planned three months ago, too,” Pavitr supplied.

The table stopped and stared at Pav with various deadpan looks.

“What? He promised he’d try my special dish! He never breaks our promises.”

“He did pile a load of work on me when Lyla broke. Usually, he would come down and help me, but he said he was busy fixing her,” Margo turned to Peter.

The table sat and pondered for just a second then the teens started spouting out nonsense.

“He’s retiring!”

“He’s going to give HQ up.”

“He’s not going to another universe again, right?”

“He’s finally taking breaks.”

“He’s dying!”

Again, the table stopped to look at Pavitr.

“False alarm?”

“Look,” Peter held his hands up. “I don’t think it’s any of that.”

“What makes you so sure?” Gwen sounded nervous.

“Uh, he would tell me!”

Miles snickered at that which caused Mayday to fall into a fit of laughter.

“What? He’s told me things before. We’re buddies!”

“And where is your so-called buddy right now?” Margo folded her arms.

“Touche,” Peter took a giant slurp of his drink, cupping a hand under it to make sure nothing dripped on Mayday’s head. “But don’t you have a way to find him?”

“The Grumpy GPS? Yeah, but I’ve never used it because he’s always here,” Margo sighs.

“How about the next time he disappears, you let us know?” Gwen suggested.

“Love it,” Hobie fist bumps Gwen.

Miles scratched his neck, “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Says the guy that snuck into the Spider Society,” Pavitr shook his head.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Gwen raised her eyebrow. “Margo is on Miguel-duty. We’re going to get to the bottom of this, right guys?”

Everyone nodded their head in determination.

Peter smiled. He’s still got this mentor thing down!

Margo was down near the Go-Home-Machine running Style Savvy through an emulator.

“That is so ugly,” she sang as she watched another contestant’s outfit go down the runway.

Her judging was interrupted by a dancing cartoon spider with bushy eyebrows.

She paused the game and stretched her arms to the other side of the room to give everyone a call, “Mission ‘Where is the Old Man?’ is up and running. The Grumpy GPS has been added to you guys’ gizmos. I’ve got everything ready to hack.”

“It sounds like we’re doing a lot more than tracking,” Hobie mumbled.

“But what if he actually is dying?” Gwen was lacing up her ballet shoes tight. “He would tell us, right?”

“Oh, but when I said that, it sounded crazy,” Pavitr pulled his mask down. “The double standards are appalling.”

“He could be just avoiding us. Can’t say it hasn’t happened before,” Miles’ voice was low and testy.

“He wasn’t avoiding you, Miles, he was just…projecting,” Gwen said matter-of-factly.

“Are we back on this? Sending the entire society after me is projecting. Missing our training sessions that he set up multiple times? That’s just foul.”

Gwen and Miles went back and forth, fussing over little things.

“They’re bickering again. How cute,” Pavitr stage-whispered.

“1 mission on Miles winning?” Hobie asked.

Pavitr thought for a second, “Deal.”

“You’ll probably be the most upset if he really is sick,” Gwen comments.

“Says who? I’m not worried,” Miles zipped up his jacket halfway.

“Then why are you bouncing around like that, Miles.”

Hobie sighed while Pavitr cheered.

“If you guys are done, Miguel’s moving on foot heading down 5th. I pinned a checkpoint,” Margo sent the coordinates to their watches.

“Time to go see if big man’s a killer,” Hobie yawned. “Or not.”

Peter felt the ground shake under him, hair rising on the back of his neck. His senses were screaming at him to turn around.

The thing is, if he turned around, he'd lose track on Miguel who was currently inside of the very building he was standing on top of.

The shaking grew, pebbles and vent plates rattling around him, then everything fell back into place.

One, two, thre, four pairs of feet hit the ground.

“Where’s Margo?” Peter asked, eyes not leaving the ground under him.

“In our ears singing,” Gwen groaned. “Where’s Mayday?”

“Enjoying a lovely Mommy-Daughter date with MJ and her girlfriends. Glad to have you all join me.”

“How’d you know he was going to be here?” Hobie crossed his arms.

“Like I said, buddies!”

“You waited outside of his office, didn’t you?” Pavitr pointed his finger at Peter.

Peter turned around with an offended face, “Details-schmetails!”

“Well, do you have any idea what he’s up to now?” Gwen put a hand on her hip.

“Well, we’re on the roof of an apartment, super expensive might I add, and I’m assuming his apartment is here. So maybe he’s just getting a nap in.”

“He’s on the move,” Margo’s voice buzzed through all of the teens' ears and they ran to the edge of the building, practically pushing Peter to the side.

“He’s wearing normal clothes for once,” Gwen’s voice was shocked.

“His trousers are quite nice,” Hobie nodded as if he was looking at a magazine.

“It’s so…weird,” Miles shuddered. “I’ve never seen him in anything else but his suit.”

“He wore a nice button-down to my Zoom celebration once,” Margo hummed.

“Guys?” Pavitr’s voice went high. “Where’s Peter?”

The three of them turned around to see a missing pink-robed Spider.

“Oh, come on!” Miles jumped from the roof to the next one, following the pink fluff. Miguel was walking fast on the sidewalk and Peter was keeping his trail from up high.

“Really, Peter?” Gwen swung alongside the two with the rest right on their tails. “Some mentor you are.”

“I’m a great teacher! You’re all catching on quite well,” Peter swung lower as Miguel crossed the street.

Colors flew across the sky, contrasting with the constant grays and small specs of green of Nueva York. Scaling from building to building was a lot easier with flying cars added to the mix, but it was a little odd to see wobbling vehicles every now and then.

“I think you guys should slow it down. His pace changed,” Margo noted. “He’s stopping at…a park? Didn’t know they still had those here.”

With a sturdy pull, Miles used his web to stop Peeter from running any further and the now quintet landed on the ground a safe distance from the park.

“A little dreary for a park, innit?” One eye on Hobie’s mask went higher than the other.

From where they were hiding, steel statues stood tall, tufts of greenery growing up the structure. There was more pavement than grass and the walkways contained several dips and turns.

“I think there’s some flare to it,” Miles countered. “Could use a lot more color.”

They quieted down as they watched Miguel find an empty bench. He sat down and started to rub his hands against his pants. He sat for a minute or so before he checked his watch and his leg started to bounce.

“Is he waiting on someone?” Gwen whispered.

“Oh, I wonder who it could be?” Pav whispered back.

“Why are you guys whispering?” Margo paused her side mission of trying to find any security cameras in the area.

“Doesn’t he have super-hearing?” Miles asked.

“Over this much noise?” Hobie brought the talking level back to normal. “If he doesn’t suspect us of following him, there��s no need for him to focus on us.”

After about five minutes of watching and making a game out of how many times can Miguel check his clothes, with Peter mumbling about how the pants aren’t going to get any looser with those thighs, everyone holds their breath as they watch someone take a seat next to him.

Miguel’s entire demeanor changed.

His face lit up, his back straightened, and the tension from his body fell.

“No way,” Pavitr whispered excitedly. “Guys!”

“What’s going on? I still can’t get into the security cams,” Margo’s voice was impatient.

“Miguel…has a partner?” Gwen tilted her head watching the two react. The mystery person got up to hug Miguel as he sat on the bench. He hesitated a bit, fingers twitching awkwardly before he hugged them back. “Or not.”

“If one of you could get closer, I could pitch the sound to everyone. And, I could see!”

Everyone turned to Miles.

“Why is everybody looking at me?”

“You can turn invisible, genius,” Gwen said.

He just sighed and faded from head to toe.

“How’s it going Spidey?” you lean back from your hug to look down at him. Your hands rub his shoulders. “You look nice today.”

Miguel averted his eyes, “You’re not supposed to call me that-”

“Outside of HQ or our phone calls. I know, I know. Seriously though, why are you so dressed up today? Got a hot date waiting?”

Miguel tilted his head, “Do I really look nice?”

The shirt he was wearing was barely hiding anything, any tighter and it would have been considered a muscle tee. It was tucked into some slacks with a belt that made his tiny waist even smaller. The pants hugged his thighs just enough.

“Yeah!” More than he could imagine.

“Thanks,” he smiled a bit. “There’s no hot date. Just wearing something casual.”

Your shoulders lifted at the words.

“Cool, cool.”

“You look nice, as well.”

“Really?” you looked down at your last-minute outfit. Some gray joggers you found at a thrift store and a hoodie you’re almost certain has a random bleach stain somewhere on the back. “You’re digging the midnight chic?”

“Midnight chic?”

“Yeah, an outfit you wear when going out for a snack in the middle of the night.”

Miguel pursed his lips, “It looks soft. Comfortable.”

You involuntarily gripped your bag tighter, watching Miguel’s eyes roam you from the neck down.

Lately, he’s been saying things that make your stomach flutter, from being willing to beat up your boss to fussing at you for running errands so late to remembering small details from months ago.

Only recently has his eyes began to wander. He doesn’t catch on as fast when you explain things to him. You’ve caught him staring at you while you’re looking at other things. His smile lingered a little longer. His hands were a lot more careful. Sometimes, he’d tense up when you touched him.

It was all so confusing and the feelings you’ve pushed down for years have crawled their way back up, waiting at the back of your tongue to be announced.

Still, you were just here to help him for as long as he needed you. Nothing more, nothing less.

You cleared your throat, “Okay so, you said you needed help with…Excel?”

“Mm hm,” Miguel nodded and locked his eyes back on your face.

You pulled your laptop, turning up the brightness so that the scenery wouldn’t shoot straight through the transparent device.

“So, this program is like, extremely old.”

“I know, but it's a middle ground for all of the Spiders. Anything newer would be too much for about a fourth of them and anything older would take ages for anyone to complete.”

“Got it,” you inch close enough to Miguel for his cologne to dance around you. He leaned closer to squint at your laptop and you had to will your hands to not shake like jelly. “So, the program is actually pretty simple. You just enter formulas, charts, numbers, or information in these boxes. There’s a lot more manual work than we’re used to, but it won’t take much to get used to.”

You walked Miguel through everything you’ve taught yourself over the past few days. Having him put in formulas and waiting for the result.

“Like this?”

“Almost! You’re missing a letter here.”

“Can you go over it again?”

Miguel's hands would hover over the keyboard, eyes focused and nose scrunched. Sometimes you would fight the screaming in your head and place your hands over his, helping him punch certain numbers in.

“Miguel, I think you’re messing with me. We’ve repeated this same thing on four other sheets now. I know you’re smarter than that.”

He poked his tongue in his cheek, “I’m just quadruple checking. Gotta teach this to some older people.”

“Fine,” you snort. “One more time and then I have to get ready to go.”

“Already?” Miguel turned to you. “I thought you didn’t have to be somewhere until this evening.”

“I don’t, but I can’t go looking like this. You spent 30 minutes arguing with me about the interface. Don’t you have to go back to HQ soon?”

“No.”

There was a noise behind you. You turn around to see nothing but a curved wall embedded with vines.

You put your heart to your chest, “God, I thought that was a reporter or something. Just the wind I suppose.”

Miguel’s eyes stayed planted on the empty space, “On second thought, let me walk you there. Don’t want any surprises.”

“So you don’t need me to go over this for the fifth time?”

“Nope,” Miguel grinned down at you. “I got it the first time, actually.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh as you hit his arm. He doesn’t even flinch. “You’re such a jerk.”

He looked around and got behind you to squat down, tapping on his gizmo. You could only hide so much of him. “Would a jerk swing you to your apartment?”

You look up at him equipped with his mask.

“He probably would, actually.”

“Aw,” Miguel said, red marks for eyes holding so much sadness. “Oh well.”

You yell as he yanks you up by the waist and shoots his web up to the nearest flying car.

“Miles! You almost screwed us over!” Margo did her best to wipe their trace.

“I panicked!” Miles tried to explain himself as he ran on the windows of a skyscraper.

“For what?” Gwen flipped as she connected from one structure to the next. “It was so clear that he meant that he wanted to be with whoever that was, not because he wants to quit HQ.”

“Seeing him like that feels like we met a new man,” Hobie said. His boots were light in the air. “Don’t like it.”

“You say that like he doesn’t let you get away with everything,” Pavitr said.

“Like what?”

“Like giving away food to the street cleaners.”

“Or like pasting your band stickers everywhere.”

“Or painting an ACAB mural.”

“To be fair, Miguel aligns with every single one of those things,” Hobie shrugged.

“This is great and all, but talk about a major fail,” Peter sighed. “He clearly needs a wingman.”

“I thought he did pretty good!” Miles said.

The rest of the group made a range of judging noises.

“His game definitely needs some work and he’s already on his way back to HQ, so hurry it up, guys. We need to hustle and huddle.”

Miguel was at his dock again, preparing to go check out the anomalies of the week. 

He was back doing the thing that distracted him most: thinking about you. 

Yesterday only confirmed what he’s been thinking about ever since you opened your mouth. 

He’s absolutely infatuated with you. 

At first, he thought it was a fluke, a blip in his timeline. No matter how many times your jokes made him chuckle or your smile brought him warmth, he wasn’t going to lean into it. 

But then, you called him one night and your voice brought him back from the darkness that was consuming him. Stories of your life, an exchange of nostalgia, a whisper of hope for the future, and the confirmation that he was more than the error in time that he thought he was. 

You’re something that he more than adored. 

And yet, he still hasn’t figured out how to tell you. 

He wanted more than the monthly meetups to refresh his memory on the stupid tech that kept this building running. 

Truthfully, he could call Gabriel, or worst case scenario, Xina for help, but every time he got a chance it was your name that crossed his mind. 

Miguel sighed as he started to shut some tabs down. 

“Spiders incoming,” Lyla popped up to inform him. 

Miguel saw the gaggle of teens plus Peter walking to his office. 

“Here we go,” he grumbled. 

“Turn that frown upside-down! Company is always good,” Lyla said. 

Before Peter can open his mouth Miguel is beating him to it. 

“What do you want?”

“Ouch!” Peter laughed. “Not up for a bit of family bonding time?”

“Not with you.”

“Oh c’mon, Miguel,” Peter inches forward as Miguel’s platform comes down. “Hear us out.”

“Make it quick.”

The teens all stared at Peter who looked back and forth between them. 

“Do any of you not know what the word ‘quick’ means?” Miguel asked with irritation lining his voice. 

“Well,” Miles started. 

“You see, we were thinking that you might need some help,” Gwen finishes. 

Miguel crossed his arms, “Help with what.”

“Your sad flirting,” Hobie says. 

“What?”

“You know,” Peter puts his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. “You need a wingman!”

Miguel’s frown grew deeper, “What are you talking about? Did you guys spy on me?”

Six voices overloaded Miguel’s eardrums, all explaining their part of some convoluted scheme. 

“Alright, alight! Quiet!” Miguel holds his hands out. “Margo!”

Miguel pinned his eyes to her with his eyebrows pinched. 

She danced from foot to foot, face scrunched, “We just! We were worried about you so we followed you and saw you making googly eyes at someone!” The words spilled out of her like water. 

Everyone but Hobie looked at Margo incredulously. 

“What?” she whined. “He was giving me his disappointed look. The disappointment was torturing me!”

Miguel turned and paced, pinching his nose as he whispered to himself. 

“Miguel, they could help you!” Lyla said cheerfully. “You’ve only been crushing on them for what…multiple years?”

“Lyla!”

“Multiple years? No wonder you’re always so tense. That’s pretty sad, bro,” Pavitr hummed. 

Miguel pointed his finger, “Don’t bro me.”

“Still seeking authority in his moment of weakness. Something’s got to give,” Hobie went to lean on a wall. 

“We really thought something terrible was going on,” Miles’ shoulders drop. “You also go M.I.A. whenever you have a problem.”

“We just wanted to help,” Gwen supplied. 

“Hey man, don’t blame the kids for this one, alright?” Peter’s voice lowered so only the two of them could hear it, albeit a bit useless in a room full of power-holding teens. “Say the word and we’ll stay out of it, but the kids deserve to know why you were canceling on them at least.”

Miguel looked at Peter with an exasperated face before looking at the teens, three of which looked like they were about to cry. 

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and let out a deep breath, “I’m not sick.”

“But lovesick?” Margo asked. 

He gave her a tired look, “Yes.”

“Well why not say that instead of just disappearing?”

“They’re the one who helped make the tech for this society. Without them, there would be no updated gizmos, no updated Lyla, no new ideas. Every time I left it was to…get insight on something here. To fix broken tech.”

“And to stare in their face,” Pavitr snickered. 

Miguel panned his eyes to the floor, too embarrassed to admit it. 

“What’s the hold up in telling them how you feel?” Peter asked. “There’s no time like the present.”

“Don’t tell me yesterday was an example of what happens when you try to confess?” Gwen’s face twisted up, teeth clenched in second-hand embarrassment. 

Miguel’s silence was enough of an answer. 

“Tío,” Miles closed his eyes then looked back up dramatically with his hands out. “¡Vamo’! Sácale, llévale al cine.”

Lyla put a spotlight on Miles and held a microphone out to him while Miguel groaned. 

“Cómprale, un ramo de flores!”

“Ya no puédo mas,” Miguel swiped through the holographic mic. “Eso no va a funcionar.”

Miles slumped, “But how do you know? You haven’t even tried! Bañate, junto con el-”

“Don’t finish that song, Miles,” Miguel’s fingers went to his temples. 

“You should really listen to the lyrics-”

“Why don’t we help you win them over?” Margo stood in between the two, ending the squabble. “It’s clear that they seem to like you too.”

Miguel's eyes went softer staring at Margo’s pleading face, “How do you know?”

“We quite literally saw it,” Hobie spoke as if Miguel lost his mind. “No one ever talks to you that sweet.”

The teens all nodded their head in unison and Peter did a horrible job at hiding his laugh. 

Hobie wasn’t done, “Don’t let someone like that slip through your fingers.”

Miguel was at the park again, dressed up even more than last time. An open navy button-down was tucked into his pants, his slacks were dark gray, and he had on one of the more expensive pairs of dress shoes he owned. A chain he borrowed from Gabriel adorned his neck and he let his hair natural and loose for once. 

Under Miles’ advice, he did buy some flowers. Hobie told him to remain calm, Gwen told him to just talk, Pavitr gave him a bullet point list of what and what not to do, and Margo told him that he was the best no matter how the confession turned out.

Peter went on and on about the importance of love and relationships but Miguel was never inclined to listen to him. He did keep the comment about letting you know how much he means to you to heart, though.

He was so in his own thoughts when you showed up in front of him that he didn’t even notice you at first.

He jumped when you tapped his shoulder.

“Woah, it’s just me. And you’re super dressed up today. What’s the occasion? I’m not taking ‘casual’ for an answer this time.”

Miguel swallowed dryly, grip on the bouquet of cool-toned flowers almost enough to wilt the stems.

“Flowers?” your eyes went to his hand.

“Yeah, um.”

Just breathe, Miguel!

Margo’s perky reminders sounded off in Miguel’s head.

“I brought them for you,” Miguel placed them in your hands.

“Oh!” your face lit up. “These are beautiful. Thank you so much. I didn’t get you anything, though. I didn’t know we were bringing gifts today.”

“No need. I wanted to get them because,” Miguel felt his throat closing in. “I really, really like you.”

The smile on your face dropped as you stared at him.

“It’s been particularly hard over the past years to try to focus without you running through my thoughts and I don’t want the fear of myself or my circumstance to stop me from having a chance to be with you.”

Maybe his ears could pick up how fast your heart was going, too.

“So if you’re willing, will you please go out with me?”

You dropped the flowers and brought him in for a tight hug. 

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I’ll go out with you.”

Miguel was quick to wrap his arms around you today, burying his face in your neck, “No hesitation?”

“I’ve been wanting and honestly, waiting for one of us to make a move for years. You’re always so busy, so I was too nervous to even bother,” you look back at Miguel’s face, smiling from ear to ear.

“Sorry to keep you waiting then.”

You looked from his lips to his eyes, “Can we skip a few steps?”

“Such as?”

You pushed forward, melting into him as you slotted his lips against yours, head full of warmth and clouds. Miguel matched your pace, hand on your back as he pressed against you. When he opened your lips you pulled back, breath dancing against his. 

“Swing me to my apartment?”

Miguel smirked, “Always.”

As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

[bladiegfs]

it's been a long, long time

➵ hcs + drabbles of being separated from your lover for a while (ft. jing yuan, blade, gepard)

➵ warning(s) applicable: none

➵ wc: 2.3k

➵ they say distance makes the heart grow fonder. but sometimes, you can't stand it.

➵ author's note: hugging (and a kiss on blade's) as a treat...

Jing Yuan

⇢ It had been a while since you two saw one another; you were both far too busy with the threat of the Stellaron Hunters coming to Xianzhou.

⇢ You were busy with matters concerning work; no matter whether or not literal criminals could be walking the streets, the world stops for no one.

⇢ Well, most especially because you were involved with the Realm-Keeping Commission. It kept you ridiculously occupied, so much to the point that you couldn’t even pick up your phone.

⇢ Many things were keeping you occupied: first was the clear issue of the well-hidden secret of Blade’s escape. Second were the strange visitors that Sushang had been lugging around, especially the one carrying around a coffin and… hitting enemies with it. Third was the investigation of the spread of mara within soldiers— the Cloud Knights had been bleeding more men than predicted, which only made it more difficult for them to handle the criminals.

“He’s quite suspicious, isn’t he?” You comment, pulling Sushang to the side. The young knight raises an eyebrow at your words. “Who?” “The fair-haired one,” You explain. “The one with the coffin.” “I thought of that, too,” Sushang nods. She then beams at you, “But I can handle this, [name]! Trust me— you don’t have to worry more than you already do. The Loufu General won’t be too happy to know you’re running on anxiety, you know?”

⇢ And of course, you greatly missed Jing Yuan. At first, it was a faint feeling of sadness that resided in your chest. Then, as the days went by, it only grew in intensity. Somehow, seeing happy pairs of Foxians walking outside left a bitter taste in your mouth.

⇢ However, you had to push those feelings to the side and needed to put all focus on doing your job— the determination of ending all that gets in the way kept you fueled. After all, the sooner you deal with work, the sooner you’d be reunited with him.

⇢ And when all things ceased— finally and for the better, too— you find yourself overly aware of just how much you really missed your beloved. His absence had made your side turn cold.

⇢ Not only that, but worries also started to wander into your head. Where is he? What had happened to him these past few days? He didn’t do anything reckless, did he?

⇢ Those questions, you thought, could be easily answered by the one junior you know you could trust: Yanqing. And there he was, wiping his sword clean of dirt on a pavilion. You approached him, raising a hand in acknowledgment as you call out his name. He looks up at you with a bright smile.

“The General…” Yanqing tilts his head, eyes wandering up as he thinks. Some grime was on the little boy’s cheek as well as his hand, but he paid them no attention, or perhaps he did not notice. Then, his expression lights up and he says, “I last saw him with Madam Yukong! They’re probably at the Starskiff Haven.” “Thanks, Yanqing,” You smile, one hand reaching out to away wipe the dirt on his face as you spoke. Yanqing’s hand quickly darts up his face, replacing yours. With a voice tinged with shame, he says, “You better hurry or you might miss him.”

⇢ When you arrived at Starskiff Haven, the docks were filled with other officials within the Sky-Faring Commission. You peeked between the crowd, looking for him— looking for a hint of that light hair, and straining your ears to pick up the sound of his voice.

⇢ It was difficult to look around. There were far too many people blocking your line of sight, and he was likely right up front, unconsciously commanding attention like he always has. 

⇢ And so, you turned around, opting to wait for the crowds to dwindle instead.

⇢ As you turned around, you bumped into someone. Before you could apologize, realization dawned upon you. You open your mouth soundlessly, unsure of where to start.

“Looking for someone?” Jing Yuan says, a playful smile on his face. You quickly rushed in for a hug, engulfing him in your arms. He stumbles back a little in surprise, momentarily stunned before returning the embrace. “Missed me that much?” He teases you as you melt into his arms. “You have no idea.” You reply, holding him even tighter. A laugh escapes his lips as one of his hands combs through your hair. He breathes in deeply and replies in a voice low enough that only you can hear, “I missed you too.”

Blade

⇢ Worries filled your head the moment you heard that Blade was captured by the Cloud Knights.

⇢ Kafka was quick to wave it off when the news hit, laughing as she does so. It did little to dissuade your worries.

“Oh, Bladie’s fine,” She quickly says, her voice a little more gentle this time. “Don’t worry about it, [name]. It’s all going according to plan.” “Plan,” you incredulously echo. Kafka nods as she turns to one of the screens, projecting an image of the planet. “After all, he’s already gotten away.” “Huh?” You stand up, your chair dragging on the floor with a loud noise. “What’s he doing now, then?” The half-grin Kafka gives you answers none of your questions.

⇢ With that, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Kafka had already plotted to go to Xianzhou Loufu herself— something about fulfilling what Elio had foreseen. None of which you’re allowed to know, but the fact that she’d be there reassures you.

⇢ You find yourself resting a lot easier. You return to your duties, significantly less bothered.

⇢ …Until a certain someone lets it slip that Kafka has gotten captured by the Divination Commission’s Master Diviner.

⇢ The entire situation spelled trouble; Blade had a nasty habit of meddling in fights involving any other members of the Stellaron Hunters. Hell, that’s how you met him first. But not only that, you worried about what information the commission could read on Kafka, and what they could possibly do to her.

“I’ll come get her myself,” You grit your teeth. Sam laughs, “Hey, don’t be rash. It’s all going—” “According to plan,” You finish, irritation audible in your voice. “That’s what you’re going to say, right?” “…Going to be alright, then,” Sam offers a sleazy smile. “Better?”

⇢ Right as you were briskly walking to the teleporters— followed by Sam who refused to let you go— a loud noise rattles the headquarters and lights flicker on and off for a second before stabilizing once more.

⇢ You rush to the source of the noise and was met with the sight of him dusting his clothes off, clicking his tongue. Meanwhile, Kafka sat beside Silver Wolf, amused as she watches Blade move.

⇢ When Blade meets your eyes, his expression somewhat relaxes. But he doesn’t spare you a greeting as you unconsciously scan his person; your eyes narrow at the new set of bandages wrapped around his arm. He then walks out of the room, pushing past Sam.

⇢ Looking around and at the three hunters looking at you expectantly, you sigh and turn to follow Blade.

⇢ He quickly walks through the halls and disappears behind the automatic doors of his room. You hasten your steps, and when the doors open for you, he’s seated at the foot of his bed, in the progress of removing his top.

⇢ He silently glances up to look at you and his hands stop working on his clothes. Instead, he leans back a little, propping himself up with one elbow against the bed and his free hand motioning for you to come closer.

⇢ You follow him and find a seat on top of his lap. You wrap your arms around him, breathing out as you feel his warmth once more.

Blade’s arm snakes around your waist, pulling you even closer.  A jolt of electricity moves through your spine as he moves lower to press kisses on your neck. He murmurs against your skin, “Missed me?” “Yes,” You whisper. You feel his mouth curve up in a smile at your reply. And he leaves it unsaid as he kisses you, his lips meeting yours; I missed you, too. 

Gepard

⇢ From the very start, you understood what Gepard’s line of work meant and you admired him for it.

⇢ But there was also the fact that there were days that were truly rough for him. He is a skilled fighter but there were still days when he’d come home wounded and tired. And you knew that he always means to be careful– he hated to see you look so worried and distraught– but his work comes first before anything.

⇢ And with his position in his work, it was all the more riskier. ‘To fight for Belobog is an honor,’ they said, but it sure didn’t feel like one whenever Gepard comes home to you and you’d see him injured. 

⇢ Fortunately, those days were sparse.

⇢ But suddenly, there were orders for the Silvermane Guards to be dispatched outside the city. Length of stay? Indefinite. They were to remain there until they’ve completely eliminated the threat of Automaton Beasts— machines that might as well be pests with the way they never seem to never run out. 

⇢ You felt somewhat assured that Gepard can handle the threat; he told you things like these were a walk in the park for him.

⇢ It was the distance that troubled you, as well as the intense cold outside the city. You vividly remember your early teen years, when you’d curiously explore the vast, snowy plains and shivered as you moved.

“Be careful,” You told Gepard as his hand hovers over the doorknob. “Stay safe, alright?” Gepard throws a glance behind his shoulder and looks at you with a small smile. “I’ll try.” You give him an unamused scoff, which only makes the smile on his face grow. Then, he gives in and says, “I’ll contact you as much as I can.” Slowly, a tiny smile also appears on your face.

⇢ Days turn into a week. He’d occasionally call you at around dinner time, checking in on you and chatting about trivial matters. You’d ask about how his mission is going, and he’d tell you the same thing he usually does: “It’s going great. Don’t worry, [name].”

⇢ But one night, the clock ticks past dinner time and you stare hard enough at your phone that you could almost launch it flying with just your gaze.

⇢ After a while, you pick up your phone— it works two ways, doesn’t it? But it only rings, and rings, and rings.

⇢ You told yourself to not worry about it too much; he was probably simply occupied for the night. He deserved and earned his rest.

⇢ Until it extends to four nights of silence. Four nights of not hearing his voice, not knowing what’s happened to him. Nothing.

⇢ At this point, you had wanted to march right out of the city walls once more, just like what you had done before. But you snapped back to reality the more you thought about it— you didn’t want to give the guards another thing to worry about, another to look out for.

⇢ Instead, all you could do is sigh discontentedly as you stare into your phone, waiting and waiting and waiting.

⇢ Seven days had passed since you last heard from Gepard. An entire week of waiting for news– waiting for anything at all– to tell you that he’s alright.

⇢ Then, as you walk through the city to quickly shop for more rice, you overheard a conversation between some guards within the city.

“—the captain.” “How long?” “I have no idea. Apparently, they’ve run into one of the biggest ones and sent his subordinates back to camp with one foot in the grave.” “So he’s fighting it alone?” “One at a time, yeah, I think. Chipping away at it. But it has been like, what? A week? Who knows how much longer it’ll be?” “Right,” The guard nods. “It could take him a year if he just kept going by himself instead of mobilizing his juniors.” “You know the captain. He’s not that type of person.”

⇢ You stumble back home, sick to your stomach.  Gepard– the sweet, kind, caring man that he is and you fell for– had been fighting alone, all for the sake of his subordinates.

⇢ Right as you were about to get your phone to call Serval, the person you know would understand, you saw some guards and paramedics within the city walk in packs through the window.

⇢ Curiously, you peek out. Suddenly, hope and dread both fill your stomach as you see lines of guards– Gepard’s subordinates– start to litter the streets and go en route to the nearest medical bay.

⇢ You quickly rush outside your home and trail behind them, anxious to see their captain, your Gepard.

You pushed through the other soldiers, determined to make your way to him. He stood there, looking worse for wear. Yet, he stood steadfast. It was as if the wounds all over him didn’t exist. Instead, he ordered the paramedics to take his subordinates first. Your heart aches as you watch him and found yourself unable to hold back any longer— you pushed past another line of soldiers with some effort and broke through. With that, you start rushing toward your lover. When he catches sight of you, his walking first speeds up, until he starts rushing to you as well. And it was as if the world stopped moving when he catches you in his arms, engulfing you in a tight embrace. He cradles your head when you mutter, “I thought… I was so…” “It’s alright,” Gepard replies in a soothing voice. “I’m here. I’m here now.” 

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

V. curiosity killed the cat.

parts: previously / next plot: when else would you get a chance like this? pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, suggestive content, you're awfully nosy aren't you. words: 6.2k.

a/n: trying out something new with headers. also, hey! it's been three months! I did not realize! I am so sorry!

If you were to recall any other time you'd stood in the middle of your apartment, blindfolded, while a strange man you didn't know undressed for you, you'd come up a little bit empty. You were failing to accept that there was ever a time at all, let alone one happening right now.

But you can't look. You have to listen to the shuffle of clothing, the small grunts and heaves of breath, the maneuvering about your home that carries a breeze to your heated skin. Seconds pass where there is no movement at all, not even an exhale, and then, "C'mere."

You stumble forward and immediately bump your shin against your coffee table—the good shin, the one that isn't cut up in ribbons—earning a sharp "tsk" from your guest that has you flushing. You reach up to your makeshift blindfold and tug it off.

To say you were... probably not supposed to see this was an understatement. You're distracted by two trains of thought, the first being his upper body. Batman is half-sitting on the edge of your kitchen table while his under suit hangs from his waist. Every line and curve is sculpted like a meticulously maintained statue. You follow the deep divots of his collarbones, the swell of his chest, the soft yet defined skin of his torso with each ripple a sign of his strength. His cowl is still in place, and even his gloves remain.

And also, though you'd never tell him this, he looked pretty damn good.

The second thought is that he has more pressing concerns than an old gunshot wound. There are bruises littered all across his upper body, signs of fights that were too heavy-handed. You tried to imagine the force it would take to really, really hurt him under that armor. How a bullet had passed through what should be impenetrable.

The first time you'd had his skin exposed to you, it had barely been anything. A cut hole in his suit, just enough room to focus on the blood and the flesh. You hadn't even thought about it.

Now, beneath all the broken, mottled skin was the evidence of the last three years at work. Between the muscle and size of him, you were beginning to understand why he didn't take his health as seriously as you did.

Batman watches you, head tilted to the floor. One arm props him up on the table and his other hand rests over his knee. His upper armor lay discarded on the table behind him along with his utility belt. He doesn't blink as you approach, doesn't bother saying anything first. He has an intense look on him at all times and it's no different now. Even if he's trusted you enough to bare this part of himself to you, you could see the tension in him. He was prepared to fight if it came down to it.

You don't want that. You clasp your hands in front of you, shrinking yourself down like you were facing a fetterless beast because that's the best approach you've got, "Can I touch you?"

His eyes dilate. He hadn't been expecting you to ask that. You'd already touched him before without asking, had shared plenty of touch before. He moves the arm holding him up so that you can get a better look.

There is a small patch of raised skin on his side that you're delighted to find free of stitches, healing over. You press a finger to the area beneath the healing wound, feather-light. "It's looking a lot better," you begin, glancing up, "though I wish you'd keep it wrapped a little longer." You try not to let your fingers wander too much, regardless of the mind they had of their own, "How'd the bullet break the Kevlar? From what I've seen, that's pretty tough stuff from a distance."

Batman grunts when you press into a bruise on his rib cage, apparently the freshest of them all. You apologize, but he pays you no mind, "There wasn't any distance. They got close and kept shooting until it broke."

"Not to be morbid, but why didn't they just go for the head?"

Batman huffs again, though it sounds more like a laugh this time, "You don't think they tried?"

The image of him on the ground and a gangster with a gun towering over him, fighting to get in a lethal shot springs to your mind. You imagine his hands gripped around the barrel, forcing it from between the eyes, down and away until they just starts letting off every bullet in the mag until- "Oh."

He grunts again.

Despite the fact that he'd come close to death, he hardly looked bothered. You'd lived a life like that, and there wasn't a day that went by where you weren't baffled by the sheer stupidity of your youth. Maybe if you'd been smarter back then, had more self-preservation, you would have stopped much sooner.

Now look at you. A man with a gun threatens your life once and suddenly your whole world is thrown off kilter.

You're not actually looking at his bullet wound anymore. You're looking at his bruises. "You don't have doctors, right? So what happens when you... break a bone? How do you explain all this to an ER nurse?"

"I never said that."

"Well, no. You just brooded and ignored me. Which I took for an answer."

"I don't go to hospitals. If I can't fix it myself, I find someone who can."

You remember the other part of that conversation, when he'd mentioned someone looking at his wound, "That person that checked you out last time?" Batman hums. "Are they like me?"

"...No." You think that's all he'll say, having given you more information than perhaps he'd have liked to, but he surprises you, "Not a doctor, but knows what to do. From experience."

That doesn't narrow down the picture of Batman's Nightingale at all. After all, any number of people in Gotham had knowledge like that just from living here. You also figure if he's lasted this long, they must know what they're doing, "I guess you don't really need me fussing over you after all."

He doesn't need to dignify that with a response, and if he were to, you'd expect him to agree. Perhaps throw in an "I told you so" if he was feeling particularly jovial. You don't expect the sincere, "I think you have the right after saving my life."

You laugh, "By that logic, you should be up my ass about taking care of myself. Scratch that, the whole city's ass."

"I am. Or I would've taken your invitation."

"How many times do I have to say that was a stupid move before you let it go?"

"It's only been half an hour. It's not even cold yet."

"I'm sorry, okay? I can't help..." You falter. What could you say? Your feelings bigger than your vocabulary, if you tried to imprison them in words, you worried they might scare him. Might scare you. The truth was that you trusted him. And his insistence that you shouldn't didn't stop you. "I told you when we first met that I believe in what you do for Gotham, that I want you to keep doing it. I meant that. It's why I fuss and why I left the window open, why I keep hoping you're there and why I hoped you'd come save me that night. I believe in the Batman and I believe that even underneath that, you're a good person. Am I wrong?"

Batman keeps your gaze. You'd give anything to know what he's thinking at any given moment, but especially now. Your desire to be understood comes at the cost of being exposed. You realize that in this situation, he knows so much more about you than you may ever know about him.

That kind of realization is terrifying. You can't take it back now.

Your next realization is that your hand is touching his stomach, more comfortable in its place than it reasonably should be. It'd been hovering there since he'd started telling you about getting shot, warm from his warmth. You don't immediately pull away.

Your hand moves with him when he draws in a breath, "It's not something you can call yourself."

"You're a good person. There. I said it." You tip your chin up in defiance.

"You don't know me."

Then let me, you want to say. "Then prove me wrong."

A tick passes. Then, Batman stands to his full height. Your hand naturally falls away as he zips his suit back up to the neck, then his hand goes for the shirt you'd discarded. It shouldn't shock you the second time, but you shiver when he pulls it taut around your head once more, careful not to catch your hair in the knot.

You listen for the growing familiarity of his grunts, the heavy effort of pulling his armor back over his body, the click of his utility belt about his waist, and then you await the return of his cowl but the noise stops there. Your hands hover in front of you with nothing to do, too afraid to remove the blindfold early but too afraid to break the tense silence.

So you stand there, back to him, waiting for him to give you the okay. You can feel his eyes on your back (all over, really) and a trickle of humiliation works its way up your spine the longer it goes on.

You hear noise again a minute later, though it's not the sound of him putting his cowl back on. It's his boots. He's walking toward you.

You're anticipating something, a touch or a whispered final farewell. A sillier, nervous part of you is anticipating his breath on the nape of your neck. Bending his head down. The heat of his chest against your back. You imagine him dipping his mouth to the curve of your throat and the image sends a tingle up your spine. You're not expecting your hand taken hostage and something slipped into your palm. It feels small and round along the sides. When you allow your fingers to collapse around it, it feels flat. Batman doesn't release your hand until you're holding it properly.

Then you hear him put on his cowl. Then you hear him leave.

Yanking off the blindfold, you're shocked to find that there's a phone in your hand. A flip-phone. It's a prepaid, a simple one you'd find at any bodega up and down your street. You try to imagine Batman of all people, in civilian clothing, walking into one of your neighborhood's haunts and buying this for you.

You flip open the phone and find that in the contacts list, there is only one: "For emergencies only".

Huh. Batman just gave you his number.

You do not hear from Bruce Wayne for a week.

After the papers are signed, you're told rather abruptly that he'll be flying overseas. Business, Alfred had said, and that you'd be expected to be at Wayne Manor the morning of his return for a checkup if you weren't called to Verona before the week's end. If your head hadn't started swimming with the idea, you would have had the wherewithal to be excited about it.

But seven days come and go and you're eventually standing in the penthouse, poking and prodding the man of the hour while Alfred watches on from afar.

Bruce is an obedient patient, if not a little robotic. Every answer is a "yes", "no", "just a little bit". He's in perfect physical health from what you can tell, from what he allows you to see with all his clothes on. The most of note is his visible tan, and halfway through the examination, you can't stop yourself from commenting on it, "How was Italy?"

It's the first question that isn't about his appetite or sleep, so he's not as quick to answer, "Fine. Warm."

"Must be nice. Did you enjoy the beaches?"

Alfred snorts so loudly that it redirects the attention of both of you, but he has his nose deep in tax statements when your eyes find the butler. Bruce looks a little annoyed when he answers you, "I didn't go. I was in meetings most of the week."

You frown, "It's that sunny in Verona?"

"Any sliver of sunlight has him turning colors." Alfred no doubt knows from humiliating experience, and while Bruce doesn't look very pleased, you're just thankful the butler feels in good enough spirits to joke with you. Perhaps now that the contract had been signed, he'd resigned to his fate that you were here to stay. At least until Bruce's mysterious interest in you dulled his rose-colored glasses.

You try to picture Bruce basking in the sun—the kind of sun that didn't find itself on this side of the world—and all you see are scenes right out of Baywatch, so uncharacteristic that you shake your head just to get rid of them.

"Any concerns?" You ask, and then you're reminded to look down at his hands in his lap. You can't help yourself from asking, "What about those?"

Bruce follows your line of sight to the scarring over his knuckles, dimmed some due to the tan. You watch his face the entire way, hopeful to catch him in a lie. He turns over his palm, looks at you through his lashes, and says, "No, I... I fight. On purpose. It's a hobby."

That catches you off guard. You thought someone with his bank account would be into golfing.

Bruce nods over in Alfred's direction when you don't respond, "Mixed martial arts. Alfred will tell you. He's been teaching me since I was ten."

Sure enough, Alfred is watching the two of you over the rim of his glasses, "Just the basics." He confirms.

It adds up, though you can't help questioning it, "Isn't that kind of a violent hobby? Seems pretty dangerous for the future CEO of a major corporation."

"It was self-defense first, then a... hobby." Alfred spits the last word out like a rotten tooth. "Trust you aren't the first to mention it, and surely won't be the last."

You frown, "Just so you know, I'm a general surgeon. Brain damage isn't my forte."

Bruce doesn't answer. He doesn't get the chance. Dory barely has a chance to announce the arrival of guests before they're flooding the living room with balloons, streamers, flower arrangements, and more. You're taken aback by the sheer extravagance. Was it someone's birthday? You look at Bruce for an answer, but it's Alfred who shoots up to welcome them in. You hear him instructing a group of musicians to a corner of the room that you've only now realized has been cleared away of the antiques that once held space there.

A man rushes past you, carrying a folded banner in hand, and another immediately follows with a ladder that almost knocks your things off the end table. You catch your bag and hold it to your chest.

"I'm sorry, the crew for the party is here early." Bruce sounds almost disappointed.

"Party?"

"For the mayor. I'm hosting a celebration tonight for the mayor's new deal passing." Bruce rolls down his shirt sleeve once he unwraps the blood pressure monitor and hands it back to you, rolling his shoulder as you begin to pack up.

"That's awfully kind of you." You comment, glancing at the array of gold and purple being carried in. "I should get out of your hair then-"

"Would you like to come?"

There he is again.

He had such a nervous energy about him all of a sudden. Someone with his power and prestige should believe they have the world in the palm of their hand (because he does), but every time he locks eyes with you, it's like it all falls away. In your presence, he's just a man and you hold all the power.

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't. It's... supporters, donors, friends. Politicians and some press too but nothing too formal." Bruce must notice the way you shrivel because he's quick to add on, "There'll be wine. From Italy. And champagne. Not from Italy, but it adds variety."

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he wanted you to come.

And it wasn't that you weren't intrigued. You admired the mayor, and being a part of something like this was a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Donors meant money-makers like Bruce who, if going off their politician of choice, would be looking for causes to fund. You could practically hear your boss's heart break at even the idea that you'd turn this down.

It wasn't lost on you that your new position with Bruce Wayne had made you, accidentally, a spokesperson for the hospital. Missing the opportunity to milk the pockets of a few more billionaires would be a waste.

And Bruce... really seemed like he wanted you to come.

"Mr. Wayne," Dory's frail voice calls from the top floor, peering over the railing, "I need to speak with you about precautions for tonight."

Precautions?

Dory hurries back down the hallway without another word, and Bruce grows distracted. You think that he's forgotten all about convincing you to come to the party, but he turns to you one for one last second, "It's at eight. If you'd like to come."

And another thing: you'd have a good reason to snoop around Bruce Wayne's house.

"Nothing too formal" your ass.

You'd had the good sense to spot a rich person lying out of their ass and had dressed as nicely as you could for the occasion, clearly a good decision.

The gathering of guests are all comfortable an hour into the party and a few drinks in, too. You immediately sneak yourself a glass the moment Dory lets you in the door. Bruce is knee-deep in conversation with who you recognize to be a councilwoman, and you catch Alfred observing the party from the edge of the room while hired servers tend to the guests. Mayor Reál is sat on a couch with a glass of champagne in one hand and her suit coat thrown over the back. She's got a line of guests leaning in to hear her recount some story about a diplomat from out of town. You wouldn't have a chance to speak to her tonight, you feared.

Somehow, you find yourself gradually floating in Alfred's direction.

He pays you no mind, not obviously anyway, but he does start speaking once you're in earshot, "Master Wayne invited you?"

Your lips purse. You try not to take his words as the insult they sound like, though his emotionless stare past your person doesn't help his case, "I debated coming. He seemed to want me here."

This gets him to look at you. Then, he turns away again, scanning the party for any signs of disorder. You noticed the tension in his shoulders almost immediately. Even if he didn't want to be friendly, that wouldn't stop you, "I can only imagine how nerve-wracking this must be."

Alfred furrows his brow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Letting strangers handle your fine glasses. God forbid someone trips."

A few moments of silence pass between you and your throat threatens to close up thinking your joke didn't land, but eventually, Alfred huffs, "That would be Dory's concern. That woman is very serious about the dishware."

Dory didn't look it. Greeting everyone with bright smiles and instructing them into the main room, she was more relaxed than Alfred was. "Then what's yours?"

The butler looks down to the side at you, but doesn't bother turning his head in your direction. He clearly didn't want the chance to miss anything, but the guests were behaving. "Someone ending up where they don't belong."

Perhaps that was why he was guarding the staircase with his life. Upstairs, you imagined, was where Bruce slept. Perhaps it was where the late Mr. and Mrs. Wayne had slept once upon a time too. If anyone were to disturb their belongings, you imagined this would be the last time a party was held in the penthouse.

But that got you thinking, "Do you hold parties often?"

"No. Never. This was all Master Wayne's idea, though I can't say it wasn't sudden."

Never was a strong response. Emily knew his shut-in status more intimately than you, but from what you saw, he did just fine on TV. He's got that interview smile on right now, cordial and fair. He laughs at the right times and makes sure to nod often enough so that his conversation partners know he's listening. He looks completely normal when you're not around. Excruciatingly normal. A picture of a proper businessman, billionaire, and bachelor. A man who should have been hosting parties weekly like the Gatsby that was expected of him.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

The way he tip-toed around you was the only proof you had that all of this was just as weird as it felt, that he knew this setup was out of the ordinary. That there was more to this than he or anyone else was telling you. A near-death experience had ushered him into the light of day and had put you right next to him. Maybe this was his version of Eat, Pray, Love.

A crash is heard from some distant part of the house and you see Alfred visibly tense. He looks uneasy to abandon his post, but you set your glass on a windowsill and take a step up the stairs, "I can keep watch until you get back."

Alfred looks skeptical, though another crash is all that's needed to convince him. He holds out a hand to the upstairs, "No one is allowed on the second floor. Understood?"

You nod, just shy of standing to attention and saluting. He rushes off without further convincing.

Your eyes naturally find Bruce again.

He's now in conversation with Mayor Reál and three other politicians all vying for his attention, though it's only she who seems to actually hold it. It's painstakingly obvious that they've seen what his dollars can do, and getting an endorsement from the newly emerged billionaire would do their campaigns wonders, but Bruce doesn't seem convinced of them.

And, if you were honest, it was a good sign.

Despite how little you were yet to understand about him as a person, you did know these politicians. You'd seen their campaign ads and the thinly veiled attempts at distracting from their shady pasts. Many of them had been in office alongside Mayor Mitchell. Many of them had rebranded, denounced him entirely after the Riddler debacle, if only to save face. There was no doubt in your mind that most of them had known about it, if not had their fingers in the pie.

Batman had promised you he wasn't corrupt. You had to believe him. You had to take his word for it.

Reminded of the caped crusader, your hand falls to your pocket to feel for the phone nestled there. Ever since the Batman had given it to you, you'd kept it charged and on you at all times, anxiously waiting for a call or a text or something.

But you hadn't seen or heard from him in a few days. If he was out there, he at least wasn't getting hurt, and that should have overjoyed you. It should have. It just... could also mean something else.

You slip the phone out of your pocket and confirm your suspicions. No messages, no missed calls.

The phone should have put you at ease, reassured you, but all it did was make you restless. Waiting for it to ring, wondering if it had and you'd missed it. You force it back into your pocket before you can fuss over it anymore than usual, and that's when you catch the sound of metal clanging against metal. It's distinct. It's coming from the second floor hallway.

Shit.

You rush up the stairs none too carefully, cursing that you couldn't take them two by two, and when you finally get to the second floor, the banging only grows louder. A glance back at the party assures you no one else is following.

It takes a turn down another hallway before you see a drunken couple standing at an iron gate, one holding their heels and drink in hand and the other positioning a fire poker over the latch. As soon as you spot them, the one with the fire poker drives it into the padlock on the handle and snaps it right off.

"Hey!" You call, and the two of them look to you, giggling like school children. The one with the fire poker puts it to the side, flashing you with a too-straight smile that is meant to put you at ease. It does nothing of the sort. "You can't be up here."

"Sorry, we were trying-" She hiccups, giggling into her hand, "-we were trying to get to the roof, but this place is fucking huge."

The closer you get, you realize that the gate is sealing off an elevator shaft. There's only one button, however, and it points downward.

Sweeping the broken padlock off the floor, the couple shuffle out of your way. "Well, this isn't it, but I'm sure if you ask the nice British man downstairs how to get there, he'll tell you." And then, for good measure, "And don't tell him you were up here or you're never coming back."

The two of them look sober enough to understand, but they're still enjoying themselves as they make their way back downstairs. You watch them go the entire way. If they didn't heed your warning, you'd get the brunt of his anger over this.

You set the padlock down on a nearby table and pick up the fire poker, unsure where they would've snatched it from. You only hoped they hadn't sneaked into any of the rooms to get it.

And then, you wonder where the hell this leads to.

There's the elevator at the front door, the one that each and every one of you had arrived in, but when you pull back the iron gate and peek inside, there aren't any floor numbers. There's two buttons: one that goes up, and one that goes down.

The inside shakes when you step in. For a moment, you wonder if it had been locked because it was out of order, and your heart drops to your stomach thinking that it might drop down a height of sixty stories all at once, but it steadies eventually. It's clear it hasn't been changed, just one part of a fitting antique carved into the other world that is Wayne Tower.

There's a weak white light that buzzes overhead and those two buttons. Curiosity itches.

Whatever was down there, whatever this thing led to, the Waynes didn't want anyone to find it. The "precautions" Dory had mentioned came to mind.

But if they didn't want anyone to find it, why throw a party here where two stupid drunks could wander off and break into it?

You're sure Alfred didn't imagine anyone would come at it with a fucking fire poker, but it had been that easy.

Your eyes burn into the button. That'd be so easy, too.

If you gave into your desire, allowed yourself to push it and someone found you, you'd be fired. You could be stripped of your license for violation of patient privacy, enough HIPAA rules broken in the time it takes to satiate your curiosity. Wayne Enterprises would sue you into oblivion. Jersey would no longer be a question. Nothing would save you.

But there was something down there that you needed to see. You knew it. Felt it like claws burrowing into the wrinkles of your brain.

Your finger twitched at your side and you saw Bruce's face in your mind, all sad eyes and something hidden beneath his skin. He'd wanted you to come, wanted you to work for him—clearly against Alfred's better judgement—and he would trust you not to go any further. Even though he doesn't know you.

Some indignant part of you thinks that isn't your problem.

That same indignant part of you, the part that had convinced you to run with wolves as a teenager, gave in.

The elevator kicked up, so loud you worried everyone in the party could hear it, but then it began its descent with its steady whirring. You held on tight as it dropped floor after floor after floor after floor.

It must've been twenty years or maybe a minute and a half. The elevator comes to a shaky stop. A door outside the gate slides open, revealing... darkness. Absolute, all-consuming darkness.

The meager light above you does very little to light your way as your heart jumps into your throat, regret bubbling up in your chest. You can hear small chittering sounds from within the darkness and dripping like leaky pipes. You're hesitant to pull back the gate, more than eager to leave this a mystery unsolved. You're not entirely sure that if you were to step out into the abyss, you wouldn't fall into Hell's mouth.

But then, light fills up the darkness.

Giant, white stage lights flicker on one by one straight ahead and the first thing you see is a car covered by tarp, elevated on a platform at the heart of the room. There are tools laid haphazardly around the ramps, as if whoever had left them there had abandoned them in a hurry. You can't see much else from this angle except a grungy, muddy mountain bike with its helmet hanging off the handle.

A garage. The big, scary void was a garage. Your heart falls back into place with a dusting of shame crawling up your neck.

You're about to take yourself back to the penthouse when you startle at the sound of a voice—no, voices—echoing off the walls of the garage. None of it makes sense at first; the discussion starts up like you'd just walked into earshot, as if they'd been talking the entire time and you'd only just started paying attention.

You touch a hand to the gate and peek further into the room, pushing it back to let you out. You're cautious, eyes flitting to and fro to find the source of the voices, but all you see are tables and computer screens and a TV just a ways away from you, having flicked on with the power. Seconds later, you recognize the voices. Newscasters. News 7 WGOT to be exact.

What really captures your attention is the darkness that hadn't been chased away by the lights. There are sconces all along the walls that keep the main area lit, an area you realize looks an awful lot like a subway terminal, but they cease at the cutoff of the platform. The lights are bright enough to show some of what lies ahead: train tracks.

You step further into the room, examining the peculiarities: a car engine here, a microscope there, subwoofers packed on top of subwoofers, tables and desks and computer screens everywhere.

A desk near the center of the room catches your eyes next. There are radio transmitters, files, and lamps scattered about the surface. None of it resembles the pristine study upstairs, what you assumed was Bruce's personal base of operations. No, this desk looked lived in. The two or three empty mugs lined up by a table leg tells you as much.

What kind of business could a CEO get done down here? The place smelled of mildew and you could feel the vibrations of trains running above ground.

Your eyes flicker over a leather-bound journal and a handful of folders, your eyes catching on names that only sort of tickle your brain. Names you've heard recently. Names you've heard upstairs. Did he have files on everyone at the party? The level of detail wasn't surprising, not for someone with his kind of position. You doubted he would take a chance on anyone that he invited after last year.

You brush a thumb over one when you catch a name that you don't recognize as quickly. Ironic. It belongs to you.

You snatch the file without thinking, flipping open the cover to see your headshot scanned off your medical ID badge, but there are other photos. One of you and the rest of your department, another of you mid-handshake with the Dean of your alma mater. Publicly available stuff. Except for one you've never seen before. It's candid, though the heavy beating of your heart in your ears is making it hard to determine when it could've been taken. It looks recent. Somewhere outside of Gotham General. You were still in scrubs, completely unaware.

With these types, it wasn't unusual to hire a private investigator before hiring on a complete stranger, let alone one who managed your very life and well-being. You kept telling yourself that, swallowing down the rising unease in your gut, when you made the mistake of turning the page.

There was a picture there that no one should have access to. Your fingers shook as they ghosted over the black and white image, the shock in your eyes, the barely captured tremor in your jaw.

Every single feeling came rushing back to you all at once as if you were 16 again. Standing still in an alleyway. Watching her blood splatter the concrete. Staring down the barrel of the same gun as it turned on you, promised you would be next.

Some names were redacted, but you could tell from the first few lines of the police report beneath your mugshot that it was exactly what you feared it would be. He shouldn't have this.

Panic rises in your throat. You can't keep the nausea down, the growing urge to vomit up your last two drinks onto the paper. Maybe you'd ruin it completely and then... and then...

It still happened. You couldn't change that.

The entire terminal rattles and pulls you out of your shock. A train was passing right above you, sending bolts and screws clattering to the ground. You accidentally drop the file and one of the screens flickers on.

There were four different feeds—camera feeds. CCTV. One of the living room, one of the kitchen, one of the foyer, and one of the second floor. All four wink away, replaced by new angles, and you realize with a chill that one of them is pointed down the hallway leading to the elevator. If these were recording... if Bruce watched back the feed...

You tremble in place, waiting as the feeds are replaced with new ones. You wait for one that would confirm you had stepped into the elevator, had come down here. You wait for the killing blow.

But it doesn't come. There's one camera in that hallway, pointed at such an angle that, really, there's no way to tell if you got on or not. It's all you need to put your file back and rush out of there.

Your teeth are chattering as you climb back into the elevator, shut the gate, and let it take you back to the penthouse, but your mind isn't with you right now. It's back there, years ago. It's reeling. It's thinking he knows, he knows and this all must be a trick. He hired you and he knew. He knew and he let you in his house, let you find that couple, let you think you had a choice to get this far because he knew the truth and the truth was that you would take a chance like this because it took one night and her brains blown out of her head and Bruce would be waiting to arrest you because you never changed-

The elevator comes to a stop. Your name is called in that same moment, and you quickly hurry off the elevator and shut the gate just in time for Alfred to appear.

You probably look incriminating enough, all wild-eyed, but all Alfred does is release a deep, deep sigh. Then, he walks over to you and examines the broken padlock and the guilty weapon in your hand. You hadn't realized you still held it. You've turned the metal warm with how tightly you grip it. "No one got on, yes?" Is all he says.

You nod.

Alfred seems to think that's enough. He holds out a hand for the fire poker and you eagerly hand it over, "I met your friends a moment ago. They've been sent home. I'm afraid letting them onto the rooftop would've resulted in a lawsuit."

It takes you a second to register that he's joking, a second longer to laugh with him, however shaky, "They got as far as breaking the lock before I stopped them."

"Lucky as they were. This elevator's broken."

You blink, "Is it?"

"I'm afraid so. That's why we keep it locked. Who knows what could've happened if someone had stepped inside?"

You did.

"I believe Bruce was looking for you," Alfred offers, and you notice the slight edge to his voice. The forced smile on his face is all it takes for you to be certain, "It appears the mayor would like to hear about your work at Gotham General."

It's an out. You'd be stupid not to take it, "Right. Thanks. Good luck with the... door."

[flightfoot]

do you know of lila take down fics that don't bash the children?

Hm, I'm assuming you mean ones that are still focused around Lila being a schoolyard bully? I generally stay away from those nowadays, instead opting to just read the fics where everyone's aged up and she's presented as more of a supervillain (those tend to not bash anyone else), but I do still have some recs for you!

Not Quite Right by @ladynoirfanao3

When Marinette wakes up one morning, she can’t help but feel that something is just a little bit… off. No one else around her seems to feel the same, however, and she is forced to shake off the strange feelings. It proves to be more difficult than she imagined, especially when an akuma attack leaves her feeling helpless as she watches Chat Noir and Ladybug arrive on scene.

---

In Pursuit Of The Uneatable by @nemaliwrites

Who do you trust when your own reflection becomes a stranger? In a Paris where Lila weaves tales that blind the city, Marinette stands accused, isolated. Her parents' trust is shattered, her friends distant, and in battle, illusions blur the line between ally and enemy. As the shadows and uncertainty threaten to close in, Marinette finds herself turning to the last person who claims to be on her side: a boy in a white mask who calls himself a fox hunter.

---

Hold Me By Both Hands by @angelofthequeers

“I know he said never to take you back,” Plagg mutters. “But he’d change his tune if he knew.” He looks Adrien straight in the eye and, more serious than Adrien’s ever seen him before, says, “There’s someone you gotta meet. He’s been looking for that book for ages.” How differently might the events of season 2 have gone if Adrien had also known of Master Fu from the start?

---

Accidents Are Also Miracles by @liiinerle

After some turbulent days that end with five people knowing her secret identity as Ladybug, Marinette loses faith in her ability to keep herself hidden. Wracked with doubts and insecurities, she pleads with Alya to take over as Scarabella, and tries to disconnect from heroing altogether. Along the way, she starts to date Kagami. Hard as she tries, though, she can't stop worrying - especially not once Monarch takes a particular, and personal, interest in her. At the same time, Alya tries to adjust to her new role while she works to uncover who Monarch really is, and makes some realisations about her own wishes. Kagami struggles against a controlling and abusive parent, and a girlfriend who seems bent on destroying herself - with or without Monarch's involvement. And in the meantime, Alix keeps popping her head back in with offers to help (because cool though time travel is, she misses hanging out in her own time).

---

Side Effects Include: Empathy by Word_Devourer

Adrien develops touch-based empathy from using a Miraculous as long as he has. This can only go well.

---

The Investigation by @11jj11

Adrien and Marinette are finally dating-- which is what Alya has always wanted... but yet this sudden transformation in their relationship overnight? Things aren't adding up. They are suddenly so much closer than they ever have been before, Adrien is apparently a flirt, Marinette is no longer a stuttering mess, and not to mention the nicknames that came out of no where. Alya is happy for her friends, but she knows there's something more going on, and the reporter in her is going to get to the bottom of it.

---

best (fake) smile by Reiaji

After Gabriel arranges for Lila to be his date at Paris Fashion Week, Adrien rights a wrong as best he knows how: with a little bit of sweetness, a little bit of subtlety, and a lot of social media magic.

[clarkswayne]

In the depths of the Batcave, Bruce Wayne found himself surrounded by his inquisitive sons - Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. Their eyes bore into him, curiosity burning brightly.

"Dad, what's the deal with you and Clark? You've been acting strange around him," Dick probed, a hint of concern in his voice. Bruce reclined in his chair, exuding an air of unshakable confidence. "Boys, let's focus on more pressing matters. Gotham demands our attention."

Jason crossed his arms, his voice dripping with impatience. "Cut the crap, Bruce. We all know something's going on. Spill it." Bruce's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "Jason, I've made it clear that my personal life is off-limits. Don't push it."

Unfazed, Jason leaned forward, a threatening glint in his eyes. "Well, Bruce, let me remind you of something. I have access to Kryptonite, and I won't hesitate to take it to the Daily Planet if you don't start telling the truth."

Bruce rolled his eyes, his confidence unshaken. "Oh, please, Jason. Spare me the theatrics. You wouldn't dare cross that line, especially because you love Boy Wonder."

Tim chimed in, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Come on, Bruce. We're family. You can trust us. What's really going on?" Bruce let out a sigh, his annoyance evident. "Fine. Clark and I have formed a bond. We've found common ground and understanding. But that's all you need to know."

Dick smirked, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "Well, well, the Dark Knight and the Man of Steel, huh? Quite the odd couple." Bruce raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with a touch of irritation. "Enough with the comments, Dick. Focus on the mission at hand."

Damian couldn't resist adding his own blunt remark. "Father, it's clear that Clark has managed to penetrate your impenetrable shell. It's almost amusing."

Bruce's jaw clenched, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Enough, Damian. Let's get back to work." Jason's eyes bore into Bruce, his tone filled with defiance. "Don't think we're done here, Bruce. We'll be watching, and if anything seems off, you can bet we'll make our move."

Bruce met Jason's gaze, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. "Try all you want, Jason. But remember, I'm the one who taught you everything you know. Don't forget that."

And so, Bruce Wayne, the embodiment of unwavering confidence, stood his ground against his persistent sons. With their prying eyes and relentless questioning, he maintained his resolve to keep his personal life private. The dynamic between him and Clark would remain a mystery, locked away in the recesses of his secretive world.

[fly-sky-high-bug-games]

I need to focus on other things, I can't really draw the siblings' dynamic I'm desperate to showcase so have it tossed down bellow

-Hornet still calls Hollow by "Knight", as they have no name and she doesn't feel like it's her place to give them one. She also refers to them in it/its or they/them pronoun, kind of switches between the two

-Hollow's way of communication is body gestures and movement. They can write but it's been too long, they are somewhat relearning how to. They write in short sentences, not because they can't or don't want to communicate, it's their current headspace of just kind of existing normally that's new to them. They also eventually develop a sort of sign language of their own that only Hornet picks up on (at the time).

-Hornet is the one who introduced them to other bugs to see how they socialize, also being forced to do the same herself. She is not doing so well lol! Hollow, while not really knowing to pick up on social ques as well, is still doing better due to still carrying the basic training of being a knight (and polite towards bugs they were meant to "keep safe and serve")

-While she feels like took a lot on herself to help Hollow adapt, it's their interaction that sort of bounce off of each other and proving to be helpful to her as well. She still has a need to be protective of them in any situation, though, taking a lot of responsibility on herself while not needed and this can have a counter effect on Hollow, making them step away from her when she acts too much like that.

-Hollow doesn't like physical contact, not because they're afraid or not trusting enough because physical contact outside of combat is foreign to them. Hornet learned this (as shown in the comic) and is mainly allowing them to make the first step if she reach out (tugging on Hornet's cape to get her attention, a soft pat on the head as a thank you that they picked up from ~someone :)~ etc.)

-Hollow is recovering and learning but they are still highly trained, fully capable of taking enemies down. What they lack is a sense of drawing the line when to stop, not dealing with enemies who aren't void construct or high skilled like the great knights. They can gravely injure or kill someone very VERY fast and Hornet has to warn and stop them for not accidentally going too far

-They use World Sense to know and see things Hornet can, so randomly they would act a little out of it as if zoning out or mediating in the middle of doing something. Hornet doesn't usually disturb them when they do but she hates when they run off somewhere without her knowing if they decide to go investigate what they 'saw'

-The enemies Hornet tries to keep a secret are these strange bounty hunter bugs that are coming after for some reason *wink*. She thinks Hollow isn't aware but they are secretly keeping an eye out for her

-Hornet learned Hollow refuses to fully sleep rest the hard way (as in she tried all sort of assurances and methods to let them know they're safe but they would act in panic so she would stop trying or insisting)

Uh, I might add more in future self reblogs if I remember more, have this for now~

[novemberthorne]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💞

Thank you so much for the ask! 💕 What a fun idea! I'd love to share some of my favorites! 🥰

Something Lost, Something Found (90k, rated E)

I've obviously gotta include this one, because wow, what an absolutely amazing experience it was to write and post this and to get to see everyone's thoughts and comments through the whole story!! ❤️

"I'm…" Steve starts, like he's actually about to tell him. Oh God. He's about to tell him. Eddie's staring, and Steve sees how his hand is searching the seat behind himself for the remote, probably to kill the movie, because Steve's being so weird it's making him worried. He sighs again, breath trembling from stress and he buries his face in his hands. Leg still bouncing in place. The TV gets turned off and the room fills with silence, and he hears Eddie shuffling around next to him. "Steve—" "I have a pussy now."

The Train Fic (23k, rated E)

This story was written as a birthday gift for my beloved partner ❤️ I worked on it for every single day for over two months. I was completely immersed in it, and despite the experience being very different than most my other fics, it's one of my favorite writing experiences ✨ever!✨

“Just… hang out together on the train?” Steve asks to clarify, because it was a strange idea. "Yeah. Let's indulge in a little escapism together, and I'll show you what the journey is all about. Okay?" Steve feels baffled. “Are you… high?” Eddie just laughs. “No, that’s not—” “Your thing?” “Exactly. Clever boy.” And Steve might just be the most naive guy on the planet, but he believes him. “It’s your choice, though. Trust your gut, alright?” “Right,” Steve says carefully, looking at Eddie with a careful look. At least he doesn’t look offended by Steve’s blatant hesitation. “It’s not a no, I’m just…” Eddie leans in a little, and he gives Steve’s arm a friendly nudge. “You don’t have to make excuses or explanations for being cautious, Steve. Think about it over the day, okay? You know where to find me.”

Who Embraces The Monsters (10k, rated M)

I love monster stories, and for some strange reason, this is the only one I've ever written! I need to change that...

"I'll never fucking forget you," Steve tells Eddie genuinely, letting himself feel all those vulnerable things he usually just swallows down. Eddie just looks. The black ink under his skin has spread into his face, and it's pulsing, shifting under the surface, moving like a living thing. It's seeped into his eyes, black bleeding into the white of them and starting to take over. Then Eddie smiles, and it's a monster's smile. "Go," he just says. And despite every cell in his body rioting against it, Steve leaves.

All I Do Is Want (11k, rated E)

The first fic I ever posted in the fandom 💕 and it got such a beautiful reception, it definitely sealed the deal for me to keep going!

"Eddie," he says quietly, because he doesn't trust his voice not to break right now. "Mhmm?" "Maybe we shouldn't. Tonight." He says carefully, and despite himself he shifts his hips back, depriving them both of the contact. It felt so nice, and he wants it so bad, but he thinks it would be a bad idea to have sex here. At least right now.

Secret Smile, Wistful Eyes (30k, rated M)

This fic was such an educational writing experience for me, and also such a personal, emotional journey. It was also my first chaptered fic I ever posted, very exciting!

"Seriously? You never even, like, suspected it?" "No?" Eddie says, feeling kind of like he's floating, maybe even dreaming. He's usually good at subtext, he can read between lines well enough to confidently put most things together. But this was something else entirely, another thing that would rock his entire understanding of the world, surreal to the point where he knows it's not actually going to sink in until Steve says it out loud.

[whilereadingandwalking]

From around the world, Irena Rey's translators make their way to Białowieża Forest. They're ready to translate her magnus opus in their carefully practiced pattern: sitting in the midst of that strange forest, the last bit of the primeval forest that once spanned Europe, they will all translate together, under Irena's watchful eye. But shortly after their appearance, Irena disappears. In her absence, they'll be desperate to find meaning (as translators generally do) in all the things she's left behind, and their search blooms into a feverish mess of conflict, confusion, and the slow reveal of secrets the author's been keeping from them this entire time.

The Extinction of Irena Rey by Jennifer Croft starts slowly, but builds steam. It's written by "Eli," the Spanish translator, who is perhaps the most devoted to Irena and her rules, who is horrified when her fellow translators begin to snoop, edit, rebel, and reveal information they'd been holding back. In a swirl of fungi, ethical quandaries, and cult-like worship, Eli writes a novel in Polish that has been translated for us, years later, into English by Alexis, one of her fellow translators.

Because increasingly, we realize: we can't trust Eli, disturbed the others' insistence on breaking her united, clean vision of Irena and of who they are to each other. But if we can't trust her, why would we be able to trust her translator, English herself, the character that Eli hated the most? In this literary entanglement reminiscent of Pale Fire by Vladimir Nabokov, we realize more and more with each chapter that maybe Eli isn't telling us the truth, that maybe Alexis is editing a little too freely.

Once that ambiguity was introduced, I was hooked. The beginning was slow, but I'm okay with that. We have to think we can trust Eli and Alexis for just long enough to begin to doubt. And then you can see the riddles between the lines, the signals Eli's missing, the misinterpretations floating through the group. It's a vivid, fascinating novel and psychological thriller about their slow unspooling.

Content warnings for violence, gaslighting.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 7 Pt. 1

I am slowly but surely catching up! More stream of consciousness thoughts below! This one is a doozy... I almost couldn't verbalize my thoughts clearly; I just had so many.

[All images are from Trigun Maximum Vol. 7.]

[ID: A set of five panels in a row, each a close up of a different face of a crew member. They all look pensive. The panel below is of a nondescript part of the ship's ceiling. The dialogue reads "A great scientific discovery... huh..." End ID.]

...seems like this is not the first time you people have come across a "great scientific discovery"...

Yikes. Rem's trying so hard to keep the twins a secret but her eyes in that scene... she does not trust these people. And I'm pretty sure I know why.

Hjhfdjhf Knives is a little troublemaker. He's so cute.

Interesting that it's Vash who sees Conrad first.

Knives is so happy to be accepted he just started crying... augh...

I do find the way Conrad talks to them is kind of interesting though. Idk, saying "Let's move forward together" isn't really something I'd say to a couple of young kids... it's just that I still think Conrad sees them as a new sentient form of life before just being children, you know? But at least he's being nice to them.

"We can work through a few little differences. If we just talk to each other, we can come to understand one another. Because there's no difference between human hearts and ours." <- Oof. He was so optimistic. I'm paying special attention to the words "we can work through "little" differences" and ""no" difference between them".

...the apparition of the girl there, who I'm going to assume is Tesla, is eerily similar to the strange apparition Vash saw of Conrad being killed in the previous volume. Is it an intentional thing that Knives did? If that's the case, it implies Tesla is intentionally trying to show them something... which uh...

...the flower is fresh. That means Rem is changing it and checking on it. It's kind of a miracle these two didn't follow her into this wing beforehand if she keeps disappearing to do this.

Vash is the first to catch on that something is weird about all this. Or, well, I don't think that's quite true. Knives also seems to know something is up but his face makes me think he doesn't want to admit it.

[ID: Vash squishes in next to Knives, trying to see the screen, saying "Who?! Why?! What does it mean?!" Knives has a cartoonishly annoyed expression as his hands ready to press on the keyboard, and says "I don't know! Quit pushing, Vash!" End ID.]

Ah... siblings... :')

Oh what the fuck. This is so much worse.

Literally what the fuck. And what makes it so horrible is you can tell these people were so excited by their new discovery that they weren't even listening. We don't actually see any of Tesla's perspective but there is a small panel where she's crying. The "question of ethics" is given a single sentence, like it wasn't even contemplated. These weren't "villains", they were ordinary people. And that is even more terrifying - because all of us would love to believe that the line between good and bad is a firmly drawn thing.

Ah... so this was the inspiration for Vash not eating in Stampede... :/

Rem's perseverance is going to make me cry

Ah... never bring a knife or sharp object around someone who is suicidal...

HOLY FUCK REM. Oh my god. Certified mom moment fr.

Hey. Do you ever think how this is probably the first time Vash has seen real blood (excepting the possibility of maybe some scrapes or bruises but I'm talking actual bleeding). Anyways I just. It clearly triggered thoughts of Tesla and that fear, that trapped feeling, that "lash out before she hurts me" took over, and that upwelling of momentary relief because he's safe only for him to look down and it's Rem's blood, not his, and it's his hands, not hers, holding the weapon and I just ahgjuhbfgsjbhgjbadahhhhhh

I don't even know what to say. I have no insightful commentary I just... Vash clearly got her to the medical area. Eating his food where she can see. Clearly still wary, deeply shaken, gauging for a reaction from her. And she just smiles at him. Augh.

Sorry, is this a Night on the Galactic Railroad reference??? AS IF THIS WASN'T PAINFUL ENOUGH.

*sounds of crying*

*SOUNDS OF CRYING INTENSIFY*

[ID: First image is of young Vash, with closed eyes, a faint grin and a sweat drop, saying "I don't fully understand though. I've never even seen a train." Second image is of a very cartoony Rem and Vash, Rem at first glaring then grimacing as she says "Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!" and Vash shocked with sweat drops. End ID.]

The sillies... ok but this is so sweet and tells us a lot about Vash and Rem's dynamic, for all that we only see particular scenes of it - and in spite of everything, it's a good one. Everything that's happened over the past while has been incredibly emotionally charged, and there's definitely no going back to how it was - but Rem is telling him her honest feelings, holding nothing back at this point, and Vash not only clearly listened (you can see the light come back into his eyes... augh), but he is the one who takes the step to break the tension and be a little silly (which I'm going to take a wild guess and say that's something he did before), and Rem sees it for what it is - it's not alright, and it hasn't been resolved (god, could something like this ever?) but she will never give up on him (on either of them) and he doesn't want their relationship to be tense and fraught with conflict. Anyways, that takes a deep level of love and understanding on both sides. I adore them. I adore complicated yet loving parent-child relationships.

...Knives doesn't remember??? WHAT

Sorry, Conrad opposed the experiments??? And the fact that apparently they caused an "uproar" and it was still only given one brief mention in the official report. Ugh.

Knives' breakdown and eventual decision to cause the Big Fall is so so well done. Augh this poor kid...

"I made a completely rational decision" <- me when I lie

"You need to look at the larger picture" <- I think I can finally get around to writing about Knives' trauma now. Oh yeah. It's all comin' together.

Oh this is so weird that the flashback appears to be different... because first we see Knives saying the Plant ships will survive, but now apparently several were "sacrificed". Knives kicks Vash when he accuses him of not "being" human but now it's because he accuses him of "being afraid" of humans. I'm. Confused. Is this the difference between what the brothers remember...? Is it just an extended scene?

"This is not fear. This is anger." <- ME WHEN I LIE

BRO HE ABSORBED HER? WHAT. (Also these panels are so fucking cool. I would include them here but it would literally just be three continuous pages.)

[ID: Wolfwood has flicked a rubber band at Vash. It hits him in the face. His head moves to one side from the impact but his expression doesn't change. End ID.]

We now interrupt your regularly scheduled doom, trauma and destruction for Wolfwood certified annoying older brother comedy relief moment.

There's something about Wolfwood being the one to break up a potential shootout by playing up Vash's reputation (as Vash himself did in the first volume of Trimax) before a single person can get hurt... but it comes at the expense of continuing to damage Vash emotionally... as I suppose his brand of pacifism always kind of does huh?

[ID: Vash smiles broadly with closed eyes. It is clearly forced. Wolfwood watches from the entrance, leaning against the Punisher. End ID.]

Ow. Just ow.

I have so many emotions from this scene. I don't even know what to say I feel like I've been pulled in about ten different directions by my heart strings. I will say the lines about taking solace in forgetting your past and that people will one day forget you is in stark contrast to Vash's insistence on remembering...

"Wolfwood, you are really my guide, right?" <- I am experiencing shrimp emotions

Knives knocking out the communications network... that's a good move. Also kind of symbolic lol

"before the end" ugh it really does sound like Vash expects to not make it out of this... but well. there's like... 7 more volumes. so.

Wolfwood: *experiences a viscerally horrifying vision involving him getting impaled and then literally ripped apart* Also Wolfwood: "I'm not gonna say anything I don't want to burden him" (for the love of... talk to each other you two!!! you're stronger together!!!!! we've established this!)

He noticed anyways... and then Wolfwood tried to follow him aghhh

...so Wolfwood didn't kill that man... and somehow that guy's the one who transmitted that weird vision??? ("How did it feel to die" <- either terrible old man transmitted it himself or he knows how it was done.)

Elendira is fascinating. I don't know what she wants really. I don't think she wants to die, but... idk. It seems like she wants to choose how she goes out? That dying along with the whole world in an instant is preferable to... idk what the alternative is. Anyways. She's cool.

[ID: Knives is leaning against a pillar, sleeping. He is partially draped in what looks like cloth, but it likely an extension of his powers. The limbs, face, and single wing of a dependent Plant can be seen blended in with the folds. End ID.]

Knives finally gets some sleep! ...Do you think absorbing his sister, and her proximity, eased his loneliness enough that he felt safe enough to rest? Rip to her though, she doesn't look too pleased about this.

"finest human specimens" Holy fuck Knives. Do you even understand how you sound. By your own admittance, you sent them in knowing they would fail and die.

The whole "no human could've killed you anyways we're so much stronger and can't coexist" to "when they crush an ant, they don't even notice" -> so which are you? The foot or the ant? He's tried to frame them as both on multiple occasions... or maybe the dependent Plants as "ants" and him and Vash as a foot above the trampling feet... or something. Idk.

Pov: your brother has mutated his own body by clearly absorbing one of your sisters, tells you you're dying with no lead up whatsoever, and then just straight up attacks you. (sorry, sorry. Knives is a little funny to me in a... dark comedy kind of way)

OUGH... it's the lines from Stampede... except it's Vash trying so hard to appeal to Knives... "there's another way"... D':

[ID: Cartoony drawings of Elendira and Wolfwood. Wolfwood asks "What exactly were ya plannin' to do anyway?" and Elendira, sweat dropping, says "Well..." End ID.]

Love that Elendira latches onto the first decently sane person she finds and immediately starts chatting away to him. Didn't know I needed this dynamic. hhdjfbhsdjf

WHAT. KNIVES THAT IS NOT THE SOLUTION. "I can't make you see things my way so I'll just absorb you" WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

...Legato just saved Knives... and him knowing Knives was in danger was the whole reason he was so frantic... in a twisted way, that's... almost sweet...?

I wonder why Vash's gate is so overly powerful compared to Knives'... I have a theory but I'll need to think on it a bit.

I can't believe Knives just left Vash at Legato's mercy... bro wasn't Legato's whole "I want to murder your brother" thing the whole reason you literally crumpled him like a soda can???

...Well. This seems to be going great. I'm going to be doing a quick write-up on Plant anatomy and powers, as well as finally digging into Knives' trauma so if anyone is interested, stay tuned for that! Might take me a little bit though... things have been pretty hectic unfortunately and I'm uh... not in the greatest of moods. But I'm really excited to write them and to catch up! :D

[elisysd]

Marry me?

Masterlist

Four years and a half after Paris

Ethan and Julia - 29 years old

They hadn’t gone to Singapore other than for work. So when Julia had asked Ethan if he wanted to spend a few days there, as a sort of trip down memory lane, he had been surprised. Surprised but very happy. It was always a place that bore a lot of history and a lot of meaning for him. He didn’t know how but Julia had managed to book the exact room they were in when the lines had started to blur.

They had spent their few days of break, wandering the streets, trying new foods and visiting places they had never gone to. They had laughed, they had talked, they had taken cute and silly pictures together, promising to find them a nice place on the wall, they had kissed and loved each other, they had reminisced a lot and reflected on their life.

“What would you say to the Julia of five years ago?” Ethan asked as they were sitting on a bench in a park.

“I would tell her to trust the process. And I would give her a nice slap because god, was she stupid!”

“I will not deny or confirm this affirmation.” he laughed, kissing the side of her head.

“But I don’t regret it. At the end of the day, we are better people now. All the hardships and everything, it wasn’t for nothing.”

“I would have liked to not have my heart completely shattered in the process, though. But you’re right. I’m proud of us.”

“I planned a little something for us… it’s not for no reason that I asked if you wanted to come to Singapore.” she confessed.

“It’s okay to feel nostalgic, Joolsie. And I can’t wait to see whatever you brought us here for.”

She smiled and got up, holding out her hand for you to take it and he followed her lead. They ended up in an area that was unknown to Ethan and he strangely looked at her. It was a dead-end street, between two buildings.

“I feel your confusion.” she stated.

“Where are we?”

“This is where the paddock for the Grand Prix is built. And this is where your ice bath was five years ago.” she explained.

“I see, the famous ice-bath. But I see none, here.”

“My point is, you’ve always said that Singapore was the starting point of our story. That it held a lot of meaning for us and I think you’re right, somehow. I’ve started falling in love with you here, and I want to keep falling for you there. You’re my safe space Ethan, you’re grounding me, you’re the only person who knows my deepest and darkest secrets and fears. Truth be told, I don’t want to share them with anyone but you. You complete me, you’re my better half. And if I want to run, I want to run to you. If I want to cry, I hope it will always be in your arms. If I want to laugh, I want to hear you by my side. I want to keep loving you, I want to grow old with you. So Ethan Verstappen, would you be okay with becoming my husband and allowing me to annoy you for the rest of our lives?” she ended up asking, getting a little box out of her pocket.

The ring was everything Ethan loved. Simple, black with a few sparkling diamonds engraved in it. It wouldn’t stand out next to the ones he was already wearing.

“Can you please, say something, I’m starting to freak out.”

“Yes. A million times, yes, Julia. Of course I want to be your husband.” he replied as she was putting the ring around his finger. “I love you. More than anything and I have to tell you that I was actually planning something at the end of the season. I’ve already bought the ring. You were just faster than me in proposing.”

“So, we’re really going to do it… We really are getting married.” she whispered as Ethan pressed his forehead against hers.“You’re stuck with me, Joolsie. But this time, you chose it.'' He kissed her like he had never kissed her before.

Author's note: A little announcement might be coming up later on today.... stay tuned, hehehe.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

[funghettoo]

Unused Minedai idea: friends since childhood

A bunch of ideas that I don't feel like writing an entire fic about.

Little Daigo goes out of town with his parents, but gets bored while they are at a business meeting and runs away.

takes a walk around the unfamiliar city and stops for ice cream. when it's time to pay, he takes out a lot of money and it's clear that he doesn't understand how much to pay and how much to have in change. the merchant takes advantage of this and tries to cheat him by taking more money than he should. at that moment Mine passes by, witnesses the scene and stops to scold the ice cream man, telling him that he shouldn't take advantage of a child. he also advises Daigo on the exact amount to give and continues on his way.but Daigo is too proud to accept the help and gets angry at Mine. Mine is terrified of catching the attention of passersby and making people think he's bothering a rich kid, but he is also proud and is offended by that child's behavior, so he responds in the same tone. "Why are you dressed so strangely?" healso has the nerve to ask. ofc Daigo gets more angry. they argue a bit, in the stupid and naive way that children do, without really caring.

Daigo snorts and complains, Mine calls him spoiled and rude, and a moment later they are on the playground laughing together. Mine is reluctant but Daigo can be really insistent, plus he has the impression that the other child is lost in the city so he wants to help. the man who is raising him at the orphanage has taught him to behave well and be helpful as he can. Mine tries to be a good child, so he stays with Daigo and agrees when Daigo decides to go to the playground. Mine is happy to have the right to be there for the first time. He usually avoids places like that, because children don't want to play with him and their parents look at him badly, wondering what an orphan is doing there. he knows that everyone expects a wrong gesture on his part, just the slightest excuse to attack the orphanage. so Mine always spends his time studying alone. but Daigo doesn't seem to care about his used clothes or his shy character, he welcomed him as his friend and wants to play with him. Daigo is more good and kind than he makes it seem, Mine can trust him.

so they play together, Mine calls him "Bon Bon" and Daigo hates it. Daigo calls him "Taka" and Mine is happy. until the playground becomes too crowded with families with children, Mine clearly becomes nervous. noticing his discomfort, Daigo takes him away. "I'm hungry, let's go have a snack!" he decides. Mine takes him to a bakery he heard a lot about in school. he's never been there obviously, he doesn't have the money for such frivolities. the old man at the orphanage rewards him with ice cream when he is very good at School at the end of the year but it is a secret between the two of them.the pastry shop is also crowded, so while they are in line Mine squeezes behind Daigo's back and clings to his clothes. Daigo wants to offer him a snack but Mine refuses, so Daigo on his own initiative buys him a sweet that Mine was looking at from the shop window. Mine doesn't stop thanking him, he's so happy he could cry...

they eat their desserts, in the meantime Daigo doesn't stop talking about life in Tokyo and a certain Kiryu-san. Mine is very fascinated by it all.after that, Daigo asks if there is an arcade. Mine is having fun and is happy to have found a friend, so he continues to indulge him. Ofc He's never been to an arcade, so he looks around in amazement. Daigo says he's great at UFO catcher but he can't catch anything, so he makes Mine try. Mine catch a bunchan limited edition.Daigo tells Mine to keep it, since he earned it. Mine shyly accepts, it is the best gift he has ever had and it will remind him of his only friend, he will keep it as the most precious thing he has.

but it's getting late, it's time for Daigo to admit that he's lost and has to return to his parents. Mine helps him return to the place he ran away from.when they arrive, Yayoi is already on the street nervously waiting for news from the men who are looking for her son. when she sees him she scolds him for running away but Mine intervenes and politely apologizes to the woman, declaring responsible for Daigo's delay. Yayoi is impressed by this polite child and thanks him for helping her son. Daigo is sad because they have to say goodbye. at that point Mine tells him the truth: "I live in the orphanage in this city, come visit me when you get back! ...if you don't mind it and you still want to be my friend." Ofc Daigo doesn't care and wants to be his friend, he promises he will come back to see him. Daigo actually comes back, the next time his parents have a business meeting he insists on going there with them. this time Yayoi accompanies Daigo, she wants to visit the orphanage.

but they find a bad surprise: the orphanage has been closed, the man who took care of it is dead and there is no one there. Daigo is desperate, he cries and insists on looking for his friend everywhere in the city. the mother can't say no to him and so they search together. they find Mine shortly after in a rough area, living on the street among homeless people.sleeping hugging his bunchan. Daigo runs to hug him. Mine is ashamed to be seen like this, he is left homeless but continues to go to school and manages to live by doing some work. Daigo can't leave him like this. he insists to his mother to take Mine to Tokyo with them. Yayoi seriously considers it, after all why not... many families still adopt a child to raise as a trusted assistant and bodyguard for their heir. so the Dojima family takes Mine with them and gives him the best education. they grow up together, inseparable, and Mine takes his role as Daigo's assistant very seriously.

in the worst moments that will come in Daigo's life, he will have Mine by his side and things will get better.

[fluffydavey]

this is a little late, but hopefully it’s still worth it! for @slingshotsandrosarybeads who wanted some fluffy crutchie, davey and jack!! with some added albert because we love our angry king!!

He doesn’t take much in from the conversation, only that Crutchie hasn’t made it to the penthouse yet, and after a very hot summer’s day with a slow headline that even Jack struggled to sell, Davey can’t remember the last time he saw Jack look so tired. He watches as Jack almost collapses onto his bed, with his back leaning against the wall, and he follows lead, hoping to take a rest before he makes his way back home to his family.

“I’ll sit here with you for a few minutes and then I’ll go home and nap,” he says aloud as he sits down, the thought of walking back home as his feet still ache is something he’s not prepared for yet, and turns to see that Jack’s eyes are already closed, and his head falls onto Davey’s shoulder. He knows that he should move, but he can feel his own tiredness kick in. He needs to go home, and go back to his and Les’ bed and actually get some sleep.

But he doesn’t want to go anywhere. He likes the feeling of having Jack’s body pressed up against his own, and even the fact that Davey is consciously aware of this should put a halt to any thoughts along those lines, but it doesn’t. It’s an internal battle he’s been fighting for quite some time now, but he’s never been able to sort through what it all means, exactly. And honestly? He’s too tired to care.

Shifting very carefully on the makeshit bed, Davey turns his body more towards Jack. He relaxes entirely and his eyes drift shut. Jack grunts and shifts slightly, and that little gesture pushes them even closer, making Davey’s chest feel full.

He falls asleep within minutes.

~~

Cructhie’s finally ready to call it a night, careful not to make too much noise because he’s seen just how tired Jack looked on his way back to the lodgings earlier that evening. Albert’s behind him, not as careful to keep his voice low, as he’s complaining about Race cheating in a card game, when Crutchie stops him mid sentence.

He sees a sleeping Jack and Davey, huddled closely together on Jack’s bed. There’s so much space on the bed, but the two are practically sleeping on top of the other. Davey’s got an arm around Jack, and Jack’s head is on Davey’s chest. He feels like he’s walked in on something so initimate, and it’s enough to even make Albert stop talking for once.

“So, what do you think?” he asks, standing still at the doorway.

“About what?”

There is silence, and then Crutchie glares at Albert before his eyes move towards the other two. “The two of them, dumbass.”

“What do you mean?” Albert says.

“Well, it’s just…has Jack ever fallen asleep on you before?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Albert says, after a pause. “What about you?”

“No, he always keeps to himself. Gets nightmares sometimes,” he admits. It’s an unspoken thing in the lodgings, but everyone knows that Jack likes to keeps to himself each night, with Crutchie being the only exception. Until now, of course.

“I’m still not sure I see your point, though.”

“I’m just saying…do you think there’s something going on there?”

“Between the two of them?” Albert asks, voice rising ever so slightly. Davey stirs slightly, and Crutchie’s sure that they’ve woken the boys up and they’ll be caught staring at the two sleeping. Although, Crutchie could easily hazard a guess that Davey’s reaction to that would be priceless. Instead though, a soft snore falls from Davey’s mouth and they watch as he presses even closer to Jack. “I don’t know, I mean, Jack’s been strangely protective of him since he started selling with us. Do you think they’d tell us if they were together?”

“I don’t know,” Crutchie says, eventually. He knows how dangerous it could be if they did get together, but he knows Jack weel enough for him to know that he could be trusted with their secret. “I suppose, either way, it doesn’t matter, though, does it? It’s not really any of our business whether Jack and Davey are just friends, or they’re more than that. As long as they’re happy.”

“Gross,” Albert groans, and Crutchie stiffles a laugh. “Although I cannot wait to tell the others about this. Race is gonna be pissed that he had to walk Les home just so they could snuggle.”

“Look, maybe don’t go running your mouth off like you usually do just yet,” he says, watching Albert carefully. “Jack’s been through a lot, let him have this.”

“You’re no fun,” Albert frowns, but Crutchie knows him well enough to know that Albert’s actually listened to him. He starts to make his way out of the room, but pops his head around the corner. “Hey Crutchie, don’t come crawling to me when he’s too busy with his loverboy to hang out with you.”

It’s extremely satisfying for Crutchie to hit Albert directly in the face with his slingshot, trying not to laugh too loud when the other boy curses to himself as he makes his way downstairs to his own bed. He takes a final look at the other boys who are in a deep sleep by this point. 

He’s had his suspicions at points, but Jack who normally has no issues telling Crutchie about his conquests to find true love has remained extremely tight lipped about whatever it is that’s going on with Davey. Crutchie’s pretty sure that whatever is going on between them is different than anything else Jack’s experienced, and if the way Davey looks at Jack when he thinks no one is looking is something to go by, he thinks the same goes for Davey too. 

When he wakes the next morning, he finds Jack alone in his bed, which he isn’t sure if he finds the fact surprising or not. “You sleep alright buddy?”

Jack smiles to himself, with a fond look in his eyes as he looks down at his hands. “Best I’ve slept in ages.”

“Well then, up and at ‘em! These papes won’t sell themselves,” he says, using his crutch to help him get up from his bed. “I swear you’re getting slow in your old age.”

“Hey! You’re not that much younger than me!” Jack says, pulling the blanket off of him, showing he slept in the same clothes that he wore the day before. They’re in a rush, so they make their way to Newsie square grabbing a quick bite to eat on their way. He thinks nothing off it, until Davey and Les make their way to get in line to collect their papes. 

“Same shirt as yesterday?” Albert asks, and Crutchie knows he’s doing his best not to blab about what he’d seen the night before, when his eyes quickly dart to Jack. Davey tries to shrug the question off, but everyone can see how flustered Albert’s question leaves him.

“Wait, Jack’s wearing the same clothes too!” Les points out, and he can see Davey failing miserably to keep his brother quiet, again. They collect their papers, not without a comment or two thrown their way. Davey looks like he’s about to self-combust, while Jack surprisingly takes it all in his stride. He thinks it’s going to be a pretty interesting day.   

[hresvelged]

— alliances, part I.

Been meaning to delve into stuff like this for a while, but there's just a lot to unpack for a character like her. She holds a lot of knowledge pre-skip most others do not by virtue of her role in the game and her motivations. This is mainly going to be about Edelgard's complexity and views on the Agarthans. Mainly in terms of her knowledge, her reactions and thoughts, and how/why she forms a firm line between her army and their own.

She tends to foreshadow a lot in her speech pre-skip (mainly because she knows what's going to happen and all that), which is seen in some of the quotes I highlighted. Going to make some general bullet points, though.

Crest Stones: They've been seen already as being able to turn people into crest beasts, so Edelgard knowing this isn't strange. As such, she'll talk about it because there is both no point in hiding what's been seen/she hopes those who do see it will come to their own conclusions as to what they want to do with that information. She isn't interested in getting non-Fódlan people intertwined with her personal affairs. Them knowing this information won't influence her actions, but she can use it to deduce them as people. The war will be hers to fight, regardless. The crest stones are also substantial as far as the Heroes Relics themselves go, seeing as the two tend to go hand-in-hand. Aymr has one like the others. She's open about her disdain towards crests/the weaponry that propels said crests. In-game text also infers she already knows this prior to the general Black Eagle (in CF/SS's case) populace discovering it, like in chapter 5 when they see Miklan turn into one.

"Such is the fate of one whose life is corrupted by a Crest Stone... How pitiable. The least we can do is put an end to his suffering." "Right or wrong, he was a gifted leader. He could have been a great asset to Fódlan. What a waste."

Unlike others' words in this scene, Edelgard's reaction is more subdued/implying this fate was unavoidable for him given what he was doing and she expected it. She knows before most that a person wielding a relic who isn't compatible with its crest will result in beasts. She calls it 'pitiable' not out of malice. A person's worth should not be dictated by whether or not they have a crest.

The Heroes' Relics: Fódlan history has the legendary weapons written down as things to be revered, used by the Ten Elites as gifts from the goddess. The Agarthans would know this isn't true because their kind was literally there and it's part of the reason for their forged alliance with Edelgard/the Empire in the first place. They as a whole do not tell her everything because there is emphasis in text numerous times how their factions are separate and the alliance will be broken once their mutual goal is achieved. Also, why would they reveal their entire hand to her? They wouldn't. Edelgard absolutely keeps a number of secrets, herself. It's an alliance forged on mutual needs, not trust. She's very smart and additionally comes to make her own inferences both due to her personal knowledge as well as her thoughts. In-game, when you visit the Red Canyon and Edelgard ponders its architecture, you can gain support points if you tell her that you think "a culture long since perished" used to live there. To which she replies:

"Heh, it's possible they weren't even human. Hmm, perhaps their remnants still influence this world."

She wouldn't say this if she had no reason for thinking that. Furthermore, Edelgard isn't the type to immediately believe everything she might hear from others. Let alone from a group she despises and can disguise themselves as her family (literally. See Arundel/Thales). She needs probable cause to believe it, hence why she examines what she receives. But I do think she also knows what the heroes relics are made of. The bones stuff. Another thing that makes me like to believe she knows this is just the way her army speaks about 'crest stones/bones' in the Holy Tomb. She is also the Imperial Princess and next Emperor, so it's not illogical for her to hold at least some knowledge others do not in the event it comes up and someone goes. How do you know this lol.

Herself: A weird point lmao, but the truth of what they did to her/her siblings is covered up both by them but also the empire itself. A 'plague' etc etc. If someone says that to her, she won't correct it because she doesn't want to talk about it, but she'll just silently grit her teeth together. She's never told anyone at present that she has a second crest, let alone the Crest of Flames. She loathes thinking about it nor does she care to share that with anyone (minus like. Hubert who is her close vassal but he canonically knows what she's been through and she trusts him). Her Crest of Seiros is public knowledge, though. But the fact that she and her family were taken under the palace with the primary goal of giving them the Crest of Flames is kept hushed. When she does choose to share it, she speaks with passion. See her C+ support with Byleth.

"I know how it all sounds. But when you see my true strength, you will know I speak the truth. I have kept it hidden all this time, but.. I will reveal to you the power of my second Crest. It is the same as yours.. the Crest of Flames. When it manifested for me, I swore a silent oath. For the sake of my family and for all the poor souls whose lives were traded for my existence. For their sake, I will build a world where such meaningless sacrifice is never again sanctioned. As emperor, I will change the world. I swear it."

Seeing as TWSITD obviously know this, I think they could also use it as leverage against her. Three Hopes shows this, but houses wise, there's always the looming threat of 'If you go against us, you will pay etc etc.' Her motives stem from this event- From the goddess not answering her pleas and everyone around her dying just for her to get more power. She muses about this often, hence the nightmares from it. It was not Edelgard specifically they sought at the time. Not until the crest manifested. A number of her siblings didn't even bear the Crest of Seiros. I feel like it's important too because this memory shows how she doesn't like working with them due to this pain they've caused but feels she must because she needs their power to usurp the church. This, coupled with how unsettled she feels each time they take the guise of someone she knows, compels her to stay her hand.

Aymr: It's first heavily implied in houses that this was made specifically for Edelgard by the Agarthans because it takes Agarthium to repair if you break it. Like I mentioned earlier, she knows what kind of weapon it is. Nobody ever questions her having this though because it just appears like any other heroes' relic, despite the empire generally lacking in them compared to the kingdom and alliance. She has Labraunda in 3 Hopes because she severed ties with them earlier than in houses. Plus like. When we do see her wield Aymr in Hopes at a point, Thales is with her. Aymr is a strong axe that allows her to channel her power and aid in her quest forward. It's not a 'gift' given as a peace offering or to satisfy her, but to satisfy their own needs. She is a weapon. If Edelgard is strong enough to take down the church, they are ever-closer to what they want. The axe is a way to destroy anyone who stands in her way.

They have also "given" her the Crest of Flames, but that ties back to what I wrote earlier about it coupled with the 'weapon' bit. She hates having 2 crests and doesn't want to become a puppet emperor like her father. It's talked about how having 2 is a heavy strain on one's body and shortens a person's lifespan, so this would apply to Edelgard as well. This lack of time is a strong motivator for her quick actions- Both on her end and the desire to not wait around anymore. But also, using the power of those 2 crests is daunting and strenuous. Edelgard is a proponent of people using their own power to cut a path forward, but given how she feels the people of Fódlan are blinded to the truth, she uses these abilities she has in order to force them to understand. If she does not, she feels the cycle won't end. She's strongly devoted to this goal and explicitly states it plenty of times.

The Flame Emperor: That is her own persona she uses pre-skip to protect her identity as she sorts out her plans, but the attire itself is from the Agarthans seeing the extensive technology and stuff. She's able to mask her voice with it, too. Until she can declare war, she must set her devices and act anonymously. Even when she does happen to speak to other people as FE, she does so declaratively. It's the truth she urges those to know.

After we see Kronya in-game, Edelgard will only speak to Kronya/Thales/etc in her Flame Emperor outfit if they are not using their 'disguises.' This is because Edelgard standing in plain sight with them is just. A red flag lol. I think it bothers her when they use those visages, and not just solely because it increases her distrust levels. Arundel was her uncle, someone she had went to the Kingdom with at one point in time. Pre-skip in houses, she does fight them at moments with her classmates when the times called for it.

Kronya: "Huh? What are you— Are you here to kill me?" Edelgard: "I am. Prepare yourself for death while you still can."

Which still stands now. There is the fact that Edelgard knows what she is doing. Whenever she decides to dispose of TWSITD members prematurely, she needs to act cautiously. Even so, in certain circumstances, it's not only what is expected of her but also what she needs to do. She is cutting a divide between the Flame Emperor army and the Agarthans'. At least, from their perspectives. She wants to rid the Church of its power & system they've upheld for ages, but she also needs to dispose of TWSITD. Allowing them to fester is not completing her life's goals. It's a second war. TWSITD are the ones who caused the two-crest experimentation, controlling the empire from the shadows, etc. Her plans of war are already brewing when she enters the academy. She knows people will be surprised- Perhaps even hate her. If they flee to their home countries, that is all for the better. They don't need to get involved.

That being said, there's of course the sheer fact that they're providing her with extra military strength. Since they know her plans of war. This is obvious enough in houses, emphasized in hopes in her support with Hubert when she says "Besides, after breaking ties with him and his allies, we lacked the military capability to carry out an operation on such a scale." This is post-skip in Hopes so I don't want to deep-dive it rn, but the Agarthans hold a strength the Empire alone does not possess even pre-skip (which is why I included it mainly lol, just to show it's a thing). It is why she keeps her ties with them at the moment because not only is fighting against 2 armies at once difficult, but unreasonable to her at present. She loathes complicity, but she is super determined for this goal of a higher cause.

This alliance is made aware of by far and few in-between. She has no plans on telling anyone about it who doesn't already know. While I think she has the most correspondence with the group's leaders, it doesn't really matter who tells her what so I'm leaving it vague on purpose to allow for plenty of wiggle room. Their faction is bigger than even Edelgard knows, anyways. She doesn't know where they hide out nor even who they all are. She is around so many faces all the time, them included, but she must continue on in order to achieve results.