#it’s just all angst lol

[ariadne-mouse]

I feel fandom would get along a lot better if there was mutual understanding that liking a character, agreeing with a character, and thinking the character is well constructed/executed are all separate (if often overlapping) positions, each with their separate tastes and subjectivities. Also: character portrayals are intended to make the audience feel things; this is separate from (if often overlapping with) analyzing/appreciating their actions and role in the story.

[toughbunnyforever]

maybe try writing him a note next time idk

[livinghalfway]

Mini Prompt: Death Runs in the Family

Danny and Jason are twins separated at birth. When they were born Danny was very sick and it didn’t look good for him from the start. As a final act of love or malice Sheila abandoned Danny at the hospital–making sure that there is nothing connecting him to her–leaving him to whatever fate desired for the small boy.

On the other hand she took Jason with her who then ended up being raised by Willis and Catherine. With them being completely unaware that Jason has a twin brother.

Jason’s life continues on as normal with him eventually being found, adopted, and becoming Robin. He dies at 15 in Ethiopia with his bio-mom never knowing about his brother. He comes back

Meanwhile Danny gets better and is later on adopted by the Fenton’s. Living in a crazy ghost-invested town. His parents build the portal in the basement, and at 15 dies with a press of a button. He comes back.

What no one knows though is that both meet their fate at the same time. A portal opening and a bomb going off. The two become twins in life and in death.

[emmavakarian-theirin]

alternate bad ending

(inspired drabble under the cut)

Lucanis has been taught to accept death since he was a child. He's trained in it. He's used to it. But that doesn't mean what family he has left isn't important to him. Rather it's what matters to him most.

Then he gets imprisoned and tortured. He watches people die, week after week for a year. He's made to think he's going to die at any moment. Made to think that his family is dead. But he doesn't know.

Then you come along, set him free, return him home to find only one family member left, the other probably dead after all. But he still doesn't know.

Then she's alive, imprisoned by the same person that imprisoned him, the other living relative. But he can't kill him. He won't be the reason to lose what he has left, and there's so little left.

But then there's you, who's shown him compassion he's never known, that there's something more than just family/contracts/enemies. That it's safe to be vulnerable around someone.

But he's scared to get close. Scared he'll hurt you. Scared he'll lose you, to himself, to a god, to something he can't kill.

Then his walls start to break. He doesn't know what he'd do without you. And then you disappear. You might be dead. A day, a week, a month goes by. You're still not back. You're probably dead. He thinks he'll never see you again.

It's weeks of not knowing, and he's wasted all this time fearing he'd only take time away from you, time he could have given you instead of pushing you away, and he's lost you anyway. You could have both been happier, if he wasn't so broken.

Then you're back, and nothing else matters, there's no holding back. He'll do anything to protect you, you are his sole purpose now. This he knows, more than anything.

Then the battle is over, the gods are dead, and so are you in his arms. He couldn't protect you.

He knows death. He knows you're dead.

But only now after decades without, does he remember what it's like to grieve.

[kyo-hiki]

i dont think im finishing this lol i realized halfway that i dont like dudecest that much, at least in a sexual way lmao, but someone else might like it idk

[zevrra]

[trans!viktor x gn!reader / mdni / nsfw]

being one of herald viktor’s favorite meant a lot of things; like helping him tend to the flowers he’s grown inside the commune or helping him put his hair into a pretty braid when he asks of you…but what you enjoyed the most though, selfish as it is; was being called into his little home in the middle of the night, just to please him. because only you got to see him like this.

thanks to his hexcore transformation, viktor’s body has turned into twisted metal; beautiful purple, gold, and silver covering his “skin”. and yet, even with his newfound body, the most striking difference in change is….anatomy. what used to be has now shifted inwards, morphing into a new set of genitals. he had briefly mentioned once, when all of this started, being different from before his transformation, but some things can never really change in a person. which is what leads to him calling for your attention most nights, trembling in newfound pleasure. he’d sit, tucked away in the secluded area of his makeshift home inside the commune he’s created, clutching the blanket he carries himself in most days. his nose buried into the fabric as he reveals himself to you.

you grip his thighs ever so gently, dawned upon your knees as your herald instructed, nuzzled between his beauty of metal as your tongue runs up along his newfound core. your tongue slides up against his pussy, feeling his thighs tighten with the pleasure that overwhelms him. a high pitched whine slips between his lips as you target over his clit. sucking roughly against the exposed bundle of nerves and savoring the way viktor’s breath hitches in his throat.

you run your fingers over the intricate of metal flesh, body thrumming with unforeseen magic. fingers bumping and scratching down along his ‘flesh’. your touch somehow makes him twice as sensitive to your tongue. feeling up his body while his clit throbs against your tongue. his wetness and your tongue mashing against his cunt echoes loud inside your head but the way he whines and moans was far louder. tears danced in his pretty amber eyes, threatening to spill over the edge with every harsh suck on his pussy.

his slick coats your tongue and lips; drips down your chin to confirm how truly good he’s feeling. all thanks to you. and after the build up comes the storm as his orgasm crashes down on him. it’s wet and sloppy— his cries echo inside his hollow home as he cums across your tongue, toes curling, hips jerking as he rides your face for his own pleasure. you watch as he bites his bottom lip hard enough to break the skin. tears finally tumbling over the edge as he experiences a soul crushing orgasm that jerks over his sensitive body.

but you wanted more.

so your tongue doesn’t stop, continuing to curl right up against his twitching, drooling cunt. fleshing down along the curve of his pussy before slipping your tongue inside. he hiccups at the overstimulation, grips your hair a little tighter, arches his back further off his makeshift bed. broken sobs mixed with incoherent words of pleasure fall from his lips as you push his body towards a second orgasm with your skillful tongue.

not only could you feel vik’s desire building up but hearing him whimper and moan while it rushed to every inch of his new body was something other worldly feeling…even if in his ecstasy he never said your name. he’d moan, beg you for more, push his fingers through your hair and pull you closer; but he never said your name. not any name, just not yours. you didn’t know who ‘jayce’ was but— he must be very important to the herald. and while you’d always be his second favorite, jealousy nestled in your ribcage, you didn’t mind as long as you got to be the one to please him.

[chaosfantasmic]

It’s wars angst hour boys.

[poke-poke-poke]

hear me out - i think leon and nihilego would be a fun combo

their designs compliment each other well lol

(i like villain au ideas though, so i may be biased, aesthetic wise)

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[den-ai-d]

Creationism 🤖

Professor Turo definitely has complicated feelings about his robot 😤 Multiple variants available on my patreon!

Preview and link under the cut 😊

Link to my PATREON

hmm...I wonder if there's already fan fics that explore this dynamic? Better check ao3...😙

[xinganhao]

YOOO, MINGYU'S COVER OF GLIMPSE OF US JUST DROPPED AND DAMNNNN.

MAN WAS MAKING ME FULL OF FEELS. LIKE OMG, SIR THATS A CRIME TO DOO.

xinganhao writing angst on christmas? likely place for them to be. went a little crazy over mingyu's glimpse of us and now we have this quick verse under the cut 🎄

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ merry christmas, please don't call by bleachers. backburner - live at the wiltern by niki. congratulations by day6. sa hindi pag-alala by munimuni. 1 step forward, 3 steps back by olivia rodrigo. happier than ever by billie eilish. ceilings by lizzy mcalpine. the exit by conan gray.

[aerknight]

@naffeclipse orcas beach themselves to hunt seals orca!eclipse beaches themself to hunt y/n :)

[justaz]

Yeowch jumping from foot to foot as I throw a hot pan in the air then catch it again as my hands burn

Arthur knowing about Daegal’s importance and significance to Merlin as he watches Merlin cradle the boy’s head and cry silently when he dies protecting Arthur. Merlin insists that he will be the one to put Daegal to rest but it won’t be in Camelot, not under a Pendragon crest which is like a stab in the heart to Arthur’s already heavy guilt at someone dying for him, someone Merlin deeply cared for. But he understands. (Not really - can’t remember if the boy was a Druid or not but I’m gonna say he was because that makes the most sense bc Merlin was referring to the fact that he didn’t want to put another Druid to rest in a kingdom where so many of their kind has been hunted and slaughtered. Arthur thinks Merlin blames him. He doesn’t. Maybe a little but not really.)

Anyways, Merlin sets off into the woods to bury Daegal outside of Camelot, on the border of the kingdoms so he doesn’t belong to any one nation where his people have been killed. He thinks he goes it alone. Arthur follows far behind. Merlin puts Daegal to rest then kneels by his grave long into the night when magic grows stronger and Daegal’s spirit visits him before departing to the Otherworld. He thanks Merlin for giving him something he had not realized he needed - kindness, compassion, love. He thanks him for putting him to rest and says he is back with his mother now, so he’ll be alright. Merlin watches him go and spends the rest on the night still kneeling beside his grave.

When morning finally comes and he gets up to leave, he finds a horse a few yards down the path with a figure waiting for him. Its Arthur. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink all night. Merlin slowly shuffles over and watches him for a moment before calling out his name. Arthur turns and takes in Merlin’s bedraggled appearance which Arthur mirrors, miserable and guilty - Arthur blaming himself, Merlin blaming himself, Arthur thinking Merlin blames him, Merlin tired from losing people.

Merlin stares for a moment before asking quietly, “You’ve been here all night?”

And Arthur just stares back and whispers, “I didn’t want you to feel that you were alone.”

[spacedace]

Dick dropped down from the skylight into the kitchen soundlessly, one hand already gripping one of his escrima rods in preparation for a fight as he worked on getting his barrings.

Babs had said that none of the apartment’s security measures had been tripped and that her system hadn’t detected anyone entering the apartment building that shouldn’t be there, but it was better safe than sorry. The kind of mercenaries that had been hired and the kind of tracking they had already done on Elle meant that they very well could have found a way around the security measures. Hell, if Jason was right about this Marcus Hunter guy - and he most definitely was - then even the additional security Damian had added over the years might not have been enough.

Behind him there was the soft click of a switch and suddenly the kitchen was flooded with light.

Shit, that was bad. He hadn’t heard anyone behind him, hadn’t even registered another person in the immediate area despite the readings in his mask and his finely honed senses. Either he was getting rusty or whoever had flipped on the lights in an attempt to blind him was, if not as good, than at least in the same league as Cass when it came to stealth.

The fact that they were confident enough about not having to worry about Elle that they would try to blind him by turning on the lights rather than for a quieter take-down in the dark also was a bad sign. Either the intruder was confident enough about their plan that Elle calling the cops or trying to run away wouldn’t interfere, or they knew for a fact that she couldn’t. That they had ensured that she was not able to do anything as a dangerous stranger wandered her house and tried to jump the vigilante that had just entered her home.

Thankfully his domino was in top form and ready for things like this, specially designed by Lucius with software finely honed by Babs. As quickly as the switch was flipped, his mask adjusted to account for the sudden change in light levels, keeping him fully aware of the world around him. A chance at surprising the person trying to get the drop on him in return, if he was fast enough to pull it off.

And if it meant saving the young woman his little brother was in love with, that had become another member of the family over the past couple of years?

Dick would be more than fast enough.

He dropped low and spun, flicking the taser function of his escrima on as he did. He still hadn’t heard anyone move, but he knew odds were good that the person behind him would likely be aiming for center mass while he was standing if they had a fire arm and lunging at him before he could realize what happened if they weren’t.

Body flowing like water, Dick turned and moved to slam the sparking business end of his weapon into his opponent coming face to face with -

A bleary and half asleep Elle.

Dick stumbled as he rapidly fought his own momentum, nearly crashing to the floor in his attempt to not hurt the very woman he had shown up to save. He still ended up knocking a familiar battered bag from off the table in his - totally not wild and undignified at all thank you - pinwheeling.

At least he managed to not bump the pretty, hand-painted vase sitting next to Elle’s normal traveling pack. It had been a gift from Ma Kent when Damian, Jon and Elle had all three moved in together and Dick did not want to face the wrath of three if anything happened to it.

Or the wrath of Ma Kent, for that matter.

Elle, for her part, just watched him from where she was swaying blearily in the kitchen doorway, eyes squinting into the bright light that she had flipped on. She seemed unbothered by the vigilante that had appeared in her home and nearly tazedd the shit out of her the second she’d made her presence known.

“Mmp?” She…said? Mumbled, really, sleep blurred and muzzy. “Nigh’wing?” She slurred, lifting a hand to rub tiredly at an aching eye. “Why’re you in my kitchen?”

“Uh…” Dick stared at her, still mentally scrambling to get his feet under him as he tried to wrangle the sudden flip between fighting a dangerous foe to talking with his brother’s exhausted, jet-lagged and very much out of the loop civilian girlfriend in his vigilante persona.

Elle gave a yawn so massive and wide Dick was fairly certain he would need to take her to the ER to get her jaw re-attached afterwards. Instead of screaming in pain at suddenly dislocating a bone, she just leaned against the door jam tiredly as she looked him up and down. “Are you bleedin’ out?”

Dick blinked.

“Um, no.”

“Any broken bones, internal injuries or concussions?”

“No.”

“Villain chasing you about to bust in and destroy half the apartment building?”

“God I hope not.”

“Mmm-kay.”

Elle gave a slow nod, shifting so she was standing fully again - if slightly at a sleepy, drooping angle - as she lazily waved a hand in the general direction of one cabinet.

“Everything but what’s in there and on the bottom shelf of the fridge is free game - that stuff is gonna be gifts for Damian and Jon’s families, so don’t eat ‘em.” Her hand shifted, vaguely motioning down the hall in the direction opposite of where her and the boys’ bedroom was. “Guest room is second on the left, bathroom across from that. If you need anything else…”

She trailed off, head lolling and unruly mess of black curls falling in an even wilder frenzy around her, “Honestly, like, call someone else about it. I just spent the last 84 hours digging people out of a mudslide on the other side of the globe explicitly against my doctor’s orders. I’m going to go have a coma for awhile about it to recover. As a treat.”

As had often been the case over the years, Elle had zagged when he had expected her to zig. It was a hallmark of her as a person, he’d learned from Dami’s stories and his own experience with her. Instead of being freaked by one of Gotham’s vigilantes breaking into her home and nearly taking her head off, she just… rolled with it. Made sure he wasn’t dying and decided at that point that whatever he was doing there was just not her problem to deal with.

Nightwing wasn’t even one of the heroes she’d worked with before as part of her search and rescue work. Elle had never officially met him as his vigilante persona, she’d barely met Damian and Jon as Phoenix and Flamebird. And yet she just didn’t give a single fuck about anything happening currently. Too exhausted to care beyond ensuring no one was about to die, most likely, after just getting back from an SAR mission.

Which made sense. The physical and emotional toll of rescue work was worse than any fight Dick had ever been in, and wore on those who made it their life’s work to that particular kind of emergency service hard. Especially one like Elle who had a widely known reputation for her dogged determination to keep going well past the point other rescuers would hit their limit and have to stop for the sake of their health.

Actually wait, speaking of health, did she just say -

“Doctor’s orders?” He asked, shoving his escrima back in place on his back as he straightened out and stepped forward, hands worriedly reaching for her. “Are you okay?”

He knew that Elle had ended up in the hospital for a bit about six or seven months ago when she’d been visiting family. He wasn’t totally sure of all the details, but he knew there’d been some kind of freak accident that had resulted in Elle needing emergency surgery. Whatever had happened - which, considering she’d been in Amity Park could have been literally anything - she’d ended up with a pretty intense looking scar on her chest above her heart and some intensely worried boyfriends once Damian and Jon had found out what had happened.

Thankfully, with Amity Park’s deep connection with the Infinite Realms and as the seat of King Phantom’s rule, Elle had been in the care of the best healers in the multiverse. She’d been irritable about the whole recovery process he remembered, grumpy at having to be stuck in one place for so long. But considering she’d had to have surgery to remove something pretty sizable from her heart Dick felt four weeks in the hospital and a further six of bed rest and home care was a pretty short recovery time.

Though… maybe she wasn’t as recovered as she’d made everyone think.

Sure, the Yetis could be a bit much in how they fussed over living humans in their care, but there was every chance that Elle really wasn’t as back in action as she’d led people to believe. She was a little too like Dami and Jon that way - like just about everyone Dick knew that way. It wouldn’t matter if she was wheezing through a flail chest or missing a damn limb, if it involved something or someone important to her, she wasn’t going to be stopped. And with Elle, the only thing as important to her as Dami and Jon, was traveling the world to feed her eternal wanderlust and saving people through her search and rescue work. Neither of which was possible if the people that cared about her knew she was still dealing with the effects of her brush with death earlier in the year.

Then again, there was every chance that something else had happened. Between her travels and her SAR work, Elle got into a lot of dicey situations. Not even getting into the fact that she’d put down roots in Gotham and Metropolis - two places known for their high danger rate thanks to regular villain attacks and other crazy bullshit. Had something happened that he hadn’t heard about?

Elle gave another terrifyingly wide yawn.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” She waved his concern off blandly, “It’s all gravy my dude. Just had a bit of a thing not too long ago and my doc is a bit on the over-cautious side. If it was up to him I’d be on bed rest ‘til I’m ninety.”

Dick frowned, not totally convinced. Elle either was ignoring him or was just too tired to notice he was still worried. Instead of acknowledging it she just began swaying back in the direction of her bedroom. “Right, now that’s settled, I’m gonna go crash. Mind the cat when you go to leave, he’s gotten obsessed with the pigeons recently and keeps trying to escape to go after them.”

“Wait, no, I need to talk to you.” He said, moving to follow her as she turned away from him and began shuffling down the hall.

She made a vague, incomprehensible noise, not bothering to turn back to face him. “Mmm, later.”

“No, this really can’t wait.” He insisted, reaching out and catching her arm before she shuffled any further away. “You’re in danger.”

He expected that to be the moment that Elle locked in and started seriously listening to him. That she’d shake off the heavy drowsiness she was caught in and snap to attention and focus on what he was saying and why he was there.

As usual though, Elle zigged when he thought she’d zag.

Instead of doing any of the normal things people do when told by a vigilante that their lives were in danger, she just gave a ridiculous, tired whine and shook his hand off. “Yeah, in danger of not getting any more sleep.” She said, petulant and pouting. “I’m fine, let me go back to bed.”

Over his comms he heard Steph huff a soft laugh, “Damn, Little D wasn’t kidding when he said she was a mess after missions. Might have to bring out the big guns and tell her what we found.”

She had a point. Both in that Dami had talked about Elle being practically a mindless zombie after prolonged SAR stints and in needing to up the ante in explaining the situation. He’d hoped to get her to a safe house first so that he knew she was secure before breaking the news that someone wanted her dead, but if she was going to just ignore everything he said in her dogged attempt to crawl back into bed he might just have to lay it out to her now.

“No, I need you to listen to me.” He said firmly, grabbing onto her arm again and tugging her to face him. “A group of elite mercenaries has been hired to kill you. They’ve been tracking your movements for awhile now, they know where you live, they know your schedule, the places you go.” He gave her arm a small squeeze, heart aching a little as he looked down at the worn, exhausted face of the woman that very likely would be his sister-in-law before too much longer. “The others and I can help protect you, but you need to come with me now.”

For a long, quiet moment Elle just stood there and stared at him. Uncanny white-blue eyes taking him in, the seriousness of his expression beneath his domino, the tense line of his shoulders, his firm grip on her arm. Her usually bright and exuberant expression unreadable and still in the dim light of the hallway. Some of the anxiety in his chest unwound a little as the seriousness of the situation seemed to finally settle in to her sleep deprived mind.

And then Elle zagged.

“...Okay… and?”

---

Elle groaned as Duke dropped down from the skylight.

“Seriously? You’re pulling Signal in to this? In the middle of the night?” She gave Dick a look that edged on scathing, scrubbing her face tiredly before turning her attention on Duke. “Dude, what are you doing here? You have the day shift, shouldn’t you be sleeping right now?”

She shook her head before either of them could try and get a word in, waving her hands at them irritably. “Wait, scratch that, I should be sleeping right now and you,” She pointed at Signal with an annoyed frown, “Should know how fucking tired I am. You had to drag my ass all the way to the Opps tent enough times after finishing up an SAR mission to know how hard I crash.”

Duke held up his hands in a motion that felt less like a I come in peace and more of a I surrender to Dick’s mind, though he was still smiling a little. “And hello and good morning to you too Ms. Nightingale. Yes it has been a minute since we last saw each other, and it is nice to get to chat when we’re not running around trying to pull people out of rubble or half dead in the crash tent.”

Elle flipped him off, which just made Duke laugh in turn.

Dick might have felt the need to intervene and try and smooth things over, but he could see that - clearly despite herself - Elle was happy to see him. Some of the tension in her frame had eased up, the lines of irritation on her tired face easing up into a fond kind of annoyance.

Yeah, alright, Duke was right that they should have just let him handle the whole thing from the jump - even with having to wait a few minutes. Dick and Elle got along like a house on fire when he was in his civilian ID, but his interactions with Elle as Nightwing - though positive - were limited. Signal on the other hand, she’d worked with fairly regularly and she and Duke had developed a solid, friendly working relationship over the past couple of years.

“Alright, alright. Yes, it’s nice to see you Lighthouse.” Elle rolled her eyes, amused fondness in the motion, “Seriously though dude, I just got back home like, two hours ago. Can’t this wait?”

The dark visor of Duke’s helmet hid it, but the look he was giving Elle was clear enough anyway. “Sorry, think I might have missed that,” he said, not at all sounding apologetic, “Did you just ask if us trying to save you from the crew of incredibly dangerous mercenaries hired to kill you could wait? Was I hearing that right?”

Elle groaned, “Ugh, look I already told him,” she waved a hand vaguely at Dick, not bothering to glance in his direction, “That while I appreciate the concern, that it’s all good. Seriously,” she said, sounding every inch the as exhausted as she looked, “This shit happens, like, all the time, it’s fine. Can I please go back to sleep now? We can catch up later. I got that awesome coffee Julietta makes the last time I visited and Sal gave me some of his husband’s fresh made donuts when I swung by the bodega on my way home. We can have a nice breakfast chat later.”

Dick tensed, rocking forward as he said “This has happened before?” at the same time Duke asked, “You have some more of that coffee?”

“Signal, focus.” Oracle snapped over comm line, and even without seeing her Dick knew she was pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

Pulling in Duke to help him get Elle out of there had been a good call, but they’d forgotten that it came at the cost of the two being entirely unserious about dangers to their persons. Dick didn’t know all the details, but he knew enough to say that there was a reason the two teamed up on SAR missions so often - and it wasn’t just how skilled they both were when it came to rescuing people.

“Right, coffee can wait…” Duke said, offering Dick a bare impression of a sheepish grin. As much as he thought he needed to placate Dick’s unimpressed stare. He was annoyed with himself that even knowing how low effort it was, the grin was still working.

“Mmm.” Elle said, muzzy and unamused by the both of them. “You’re right. It can wait, for the morning, after I’ve gotten some sleep.” She made a shooing motion at them with her hands, “Go on then, get. Let me get my beauty rest.”

“I don’t know if we have time for you to sleep that long.” Duke mused, laughing as Elle flipped him off again. “Seriously Whammy, you can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

“You’re face isn’t safe.”

“You’re face isn’t safe if you don't move your ass.”

Maybe involving Duke was a bad idea after all, Dick thought, giving into the urge to scrub at his face. While he was his civilian identity, Duke and Elle were friendly enough. She got along with him as well as she got along with everyone else in the family. But the two had clearly developed a strong, almost sibling-like relationship out in the field when Duke was on duty as Signal. Useful in imparting the dangers, useless in getting the two to not bicker like overtired siblings while they were in the middle of something.

Dick sighed, “Can we do this later, please?” He met Elle’s eye from behind his mask, “Look, we wouldn’t be here unless we had serious concerns about your safety. I know you’re tired and think it’s not a big deal but it is. Can you please go pack a bag and come with us so we can get you setup somewhere more secure?”

There was a long beat of silence as Elle looked at him. Her exhausted face becoming contemplative as she met his eye and took in his serious expression. He felt hope swell in him that she was finally taking all of this seriously when -

“Nah. Not happening.” She waved him off, unbothered, and turned to start heading down the hall again towards her room. “I’m going back to sleep. Feel free to hang out here if you want to. I already told Sparky here which snacks were off limits, just keep the volume on the TV down if you decide to watch anything.”

Okay. They might just have to kidnap her. Unfortunate, but Dick wasn’t seeing a lot of options left to them.

Duke, thankfully, seemed to have one more trick up his sleeve.

Crossing his arms and leaning a little too casually against the kitchen counter he made a show of looking at his nails - well hidden beneath his gloves - as he called out, “Alright, I guess we’ll tell Supernova you weren’t interested in meeting him after all.”

Elle froze. Truly froze. Foot still hovering in the air mid-step, entire body trapped in comical stillness. Slowly, painfully slowly, her head turned towards where Duke was. Eyes so intensely wide that they hurt Dick to look at a little, her already slightly off-putting white-blue irises almost swallowing the tiny black pinpricks of her pupils.

“Supernova?” She spun, body almost shaking as she scuttled over to where Duke was like a deranged little crab, “He’s in Gotham?”

Duke made a show of shrugging, “Eh, I mean, he was going to be in Gotham. Help make sure the safehouse we were going to have you stay in is secure and all that.” No amount of cover from Duke’s visor could hide the gleam in his eye, the shit eating grin he flashed Elle said it all. “But if you want to stay here, I guess we’ll have to tell him to not bother coming.”

Dick blinked as Elle seemed to start vibrating in place. He wasn’t entirely certain she wouldn’t take off like a god damn rocket with the way her clear excitement at the idea was rattling around inside her, body likely to combust from the energy of it all.

“I guess I’m calling Kon.” Tim mused from over the comms. “Who knew she was such a big Supernova fan?”

“Holy shit, do you think she has a crush on him?” Steph asked, clear delight at the absolute horror and chaos that would rock Jon if that was the case.

----

^ random incomplete dpxdc snippet thing from a fic I'm working on where the Batfam & Superfam have to try and keep Damian & Jon's supposed-civilian girlfriend Elle safe while the boys are off planet.

Just a lot of fun pre-identity reveal shinanigans, Elle having absolutely zero self-preservation instincts (even by Fenton standards) and the Bats & Supers trying to deal with the chaos inherint in dealing with ghost shit while not revealing anything before Damian & Jon get the chance to. Also some fun painful angst as things start going off the rails and Infinite Realm conspiracies start popping off involving Ancient of the Speedforce Pariah Dark and Elle's ongoing struggle to controll her Obsession. Most importantly, it involves Duke & Elle getting to be chaotic besties because they deserve to be unhinged gremlins that worry those around them with their shinanigans on the regular haha

Sidenote that is entirely unncessary but I put in the research so I'm going to make it everyone else's problem: When Duke calls Elle "Whammy" above, he's actually calling her "W.A.M.I" which stands for Wide Area Motion Imagery, which is a newer type of technology search and rescue teams use.

[lucasandlily]

Rui x Reader who is really affectionate, but can't touch him because of The Curse.

A/N: I'm alive!! Rui my beautiful beautiful tragic boy. I've actually been having a lot of brainrot for this game, particularly an isekai AU that made me contemplate making RP blog (I love you guys btw. This is probably my first fandom where they're so active, I've been really well connected with this fandom somehow and it's so fun!!), so I figured I might as well be writing it down now. This is an idea I've had spinning in my head for a while, so it's VERY self-indulgent/insert, but enjoy!! AO3 link here

Rui's POV. Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Angst! But also fluff!! (825 words)

You’ve always been an affectionate little thing. It’s something Rui finds adorable about you, staying optimistic despite all that looms over you, not letting any of the ghouls he KNOWS can be more than a little much sometimes destroy your positive attitude. It’s as if you decided to be the light in a place that literally has dark in its name, and he lov admires you for that.

He can’t help but feel the bitter green of envy though, when he watches you ruffle Lyca’s hair after he whines at you for treating him like a dog. 

He pointedly turns away from the look Ed gives him over your head when you relax into his chest after he leans over your shoulder.  

He just laughs along at your drunken antics when you nuzzle into Haru’s hand, somehow even more touchy when your cheeks are flushed with alcohol. 

He tries not to remember the flash of hurt, confusion, the first time he’d backed away from your hand when all you wanted to do was give him a pat for a job well done. He doesn’t know if it hurt more when your face morphed into regretful understanding, or when you apologised and told him you’d try not to do it again. 

Rui tells himself it’s for the better when he notices you’ve been avoiding him for the past week. He’d have done the same to you anyway, if he realised his feelings were starting to fester. He tries to not let it get to him when he hears you enter the Obscuary mansion, only to quickly patter up the stairs without stopping by the bar first, as you would have done previously. 

Maybe before, he would have made it a little competition to see who could mess up the other’s hair more. He’d watched you run your fingers through Lyca’s after you’d tousled it out of place, anyway. Maybe in another life, you’d gently hold his face as you showered him with kisses. He’d do the same to you anyway, if he wasn’t forced to keep his hands to himself. 

If he didn’t notice you hold your hand back every time you saw his mask slip. If he didn’t see your hand stop short before pulling it back to tell him he had a bit of hair out of place. 

It’s all just part of the cursed life, he tells himself. He should be getting used to it by now, he sighs as he walks down the hall over to his room. 

Behind him, he hears the jingle of the bell you like to wear on your keychain. He turns at the sound of your quick steps approaching. 

“Rui! Ruiruiruiii!!” You call.

“Ah, there you are! Haha, I’m not going anywhere you know~ though I guess I don’t mind being chased?” He teases as you approach. 

You smile up at him brightly, “I have something to show you!” You tell him, he notices now that you have a hand behind your back. 

“Hm? Aw, did you get me a gift? And here I was thinking you were hiding from me!” He regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. Your smile falters a bit as you blink at his confession. 

But before he can backtrack with a “Just kidding!” your smile lightens again, eyes filling with some sort of resolve as you pull out… a glove on a stick? in your other hand.

He doesn’t pull away when he feels the simulation of a hand on his head. He can’t, when you look into his eyes with such unmistakable fondness. The awkward, stilted movements as you try to run the imitation hand through his hair communicates how long you’ve wanted to do this, and the tears that well up in his eyes betray how much he’s needed it. 

He feels the cloth soak up the tears when you move the glove down to hold his face. It feels soft under his skin, and he can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. 

“How long did it take you to make this?” He asks as you let him lace his fingers with your hand extension. He squeezes the plush hand, feeling the soft give before it reaches the stick inside, inspecting where the glove and stick are attached. 

“Um! A week? It took a bit of experimenting to get it to stay on… And they don’t really sell gloves on campus either.” 

Your eyes crinkle when you look at him, the corners of your lips pull up triumphantly when he lets go of the hand to let you pat his head again. 

“You deserve at least this much,” you tell him. “I know it’s not really the same or anything, but I don’t wanna leave you out, y’know?” 

“It was worth it though, if it made you happy.” You look into his eyes as you say this, and he can’t help but believe you.

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[yourleftpinkytoe-blog]

Am I the only one who thinks that part of the reason that Andrew is so opposed to getting close to Aaron is because of how Drake used threats on incest against him. His first introduction to Aaron was tainted by drakes sick fucking fantasy’s and i genuinely think that if that hadn’t happened they would’ve bonded a whole lot sooner.

Just a thought.