#just seems so unnecessary like holy shit

[wp100]

Seeing yms pull apart the Garfield movie trailer like that and having the nerve to call it AI… bro what

[six-of-cringe]

never thought i'd say it. not happy about gay sex

[plussizefantasia]

More Body, More Money

Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

warnings: Allusion to smut towards the end, references to a female body and that body being bigger

an: holy shit sorry for disappearing for so long. I make no promises as to when I'll come back as I seem to have a habit of breaking those. I've been in a Bridgerton mood recently though and typed this on my phone in like an hour so no promises that it's all that good. I will say though that I've been working on a request recently and it's currently at 4k and counting which is by far the longest fic I've ever written and I'm not even to the good part yet. I've also finished outlining the rest of the parts for my Kili x reader fic. I think that's it though, thanks for reading this far if you did and for putting up with my bs.

“Darling, could you come here a moment?” Your husband called from his desk. Recently you had taken to reading while lounging on the couch in his study. It was a great way to spend time with your busy husband while also letting him get his work done. 

You didn’t exactly know what he was working on at the moment but apparently, your presence was needed to solve whatever issue he had stumbled upon. It wasn’t until you got closer to his desk that you noticed the receipts and ledgers sprawled across his desk. He was updating the families' books and tracking the spending that you and the rest of his family had done that month. 

“Yes, my love?” You moved to rest your hand on his back and traced it across his shoulders and on his neck. It was as if you two were magnets, unable to keep apart for very long. If you were close enough then you would feel your hands gravitating towards him. And if the way his arm moved to rest on your back as well, he had the same urges when in proximity to you. 

“I’ve noticed something odd in the charges from the modiste.” Anthony handed you the papers. Both you and Eloise had gone to the modiste at the beginning of the month to be fitted for some new gowns to prepare for her second season in the marriage mart and your first season as the Viscountess. 

“I’ll admit to not being the most knowledgeable about gowns and other frivolities my love, but is it normal for the cost difference to be this large? I mean when Ben and I get new suits the price is almost always similar.” He pointed to the two prices listed on the bill from Madame Delacroix. 

You didn’t know how to respond to this, you knew the reason behind the price difference between yours and Elioises dresses, of course, it was something that you had thought of already. After all, it was the same reason that your younger sister always got more gowns than you every season that the two of you attended growing up. You were larger, and as the modiste you had gone to grow up with had said “More body means more fabric means more money.” more money that your father had deemed unnecessary so you had only ever gotten one or two new dresses while your sister would be fitted for five or six of the newest and most flattering styles.

But how could you explain this to Anthony? That your dresses cost more than his sisters because you were bigger, and that meant more money.

You knew Anthony loved your body, he worshiped it often in fact but there was a difference between getting lost in the softness of your embrace and seeing the real-life sometimes the financial consequences of living in a bigger body.

“Oh, Anthony, it is uh- just a matter of resources I suppose.” 

He raised a brow at you. “I’m not sure I understand. What do you mean by resources?”

“Well dear husband, you and your brother are very similar in height and build which means the two of you have very similar resource usage, whereas myself and your sister are quite different in the… resource usage department.”

“My love, I need you to speak to me as if I am an idiot.” 

You deeply sighed and prepared yourself to have the conversation that you had been trying and failing to get out of. “Eloise is small, therefore it does not take as much fabric to make her dresses, whereas I am quite well endowed and my dresses require more material. More body means more fabric means more money it is as simple as that.” 

“That is preposterous, are you both not getting dresses?” His tone was getting more defensive, and it warmed your heart to know that he was willing to get upset at the simple fact that Madame Delacroix had charged you more because your dress was bigger. You had expected him to be embarrassed, and deep down somewhat afraid that he would realize that he had signed himself up for these extra expenses for the rest of his life by marrying you. 

“Well darling, think about it, would you expect to pay the same amount for a child as you would for yourself? Do you not pay more for your suits than you do Greg’s?”

“No, I see your point darling.”

“That is all this is my love, different sizes of clothing cost different amounts. If it is a problem I can just see about getting some of my old gowns altered to make them somewhat nicer for the new season, that way you would not have to spend as much.”

“What? No. Darling, this is not about the money, I was merely worried that that woman had tried to take advantage of you, charging you far more than Eloise for the same thing. I couldn’t care less about the money. In fact, I think you should get ten more gowns made, show everyone in the Ton that I am married to the most voluptuous, sensual, and desirable woman in the world.” He pulled you closer to him so that you were standing in between his spread knees, you still standing over him as he leaned back in his chair.

Anthony began training kisses up and down the arm that he had grasped within his hand. Turning your wrist over so that he could place one at the center of your palm. 

“I do not need ten new gowns, Anthony, that is far too much.” You giggled and protested, feeling more enamored with the man you married with every word out of his mouth.

“Perhaps I shall buy you ten diamond necklaces then so that I can have an excuse to stare at your chest as often as I’d like.” You snorted and gently smacked the back of his head. “Anthony Bridgerton, that is scandalous talk and you know it.”

“Nothing is scandalous between husband and wife, especially when the two are alone.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and lifted the corners of his lips into a sultry grin, one that had your knees feeling weaker by the second. 

“All I really need, dear husband, is you.”

A smile that you could only consider adoring spread across your husband's face.

“And I you, my love.”

“No Anthony, I need you.”

His grin turned to a full-blown smirk spreading across his face, “Well, what the Viscountess needs she gets…” 

;)

[basterbinkers]

the funniest thing to me about the narumitsu experience of phoenix wright: ace attorney is how gradually it's revealed that both of them are kinda insane for each other? because at first you come to understand that holy shit, edgeworth is into phoenix? with his "unnecessary feelings" and his "wright, wright, wright" and "you in particular i cannot ask to do this" and "i didn't want you to see me. not like this". like okay so he's gay and homophobic towards himself. gotcha. and wright seems kinda cagey about the whole thing, not really answering maya's questions about what's the deal with him and edgeworth, so maybe it's just one-sided? only for wright to come out (ha) swinging with "let me defend you" and "i'm the only one who knows the real edgeworth. i'm the only one who can help him." and "that's why i became a lawyer". and then of course, to top it all off, edgeworth professes his guilt to the court and phoenix just. immediately starts building his case again. because he doesn't think edgeworth even ACCIDENTALLY killed his father. insane gay behavior on both their parts.

[er-osion]

Cruel Summer

pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

summary: A fic based on the song Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift. Reader is a Crow and has unfortunately fallen for their boss in the summer heat spell.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: none, fluff

you can see the full taylor swift song-fic masterlist here

⋄∘∗⋅⋆≁≁⋆⋅∗∘⋄

You always seem to forget how unbearably hot Ketterdam can get in the summer, especially during a heat wave. Your skin is sweltering and sticking uncomfortably to your clothes. The summer sun is bright and accosting, hanging high above your head in the clear blue sky. You greatly missed the typical overcast weather and fog. The Crow Club was just a few blocks away, all you had to do was hold on until you got there, and then you could collapse at the bar and scarf down an icy drink. The mere idea of a cool beverage put a weary smile on your face and added a pep to your step.

The Club was rather full for a weekday afternoon. However, it made sense that people would be wanting to beat the heat here. Entertainment, food, drinks, and a relatively cool space, you didn’t blame the ‘pigeons’ one bit. Even though you knew he hated the heat, Kaz was always happy to see the boom in business during heat waves like this. You shook your head defiantly. This has been happening lately. Kaz, your boss, had been popping up in your head as of late, and at the most unnecessary times. Suddenly you’d become concerned with his likes, dislikes, moods, health, and so on and it was bugging you as all get-out.

It’s not that you didn’t like Kaz, quite the opposite, you liked and respected him a lot. He is, dare you say, a friend. But you didn’t think about your other friends as often as you did your cane-wielding boss, and that is the issue. You know he’s not a good guy. Though, how could anyone be a good person in this city? He’s bad. He’s honestly nearly a bad friend too. But this knowledge of the obvious has done nothing to discourage your traitorous brain from drawing up images of the man at times when you should certainly be focused on something else.

You arrived at the Club and saw Jesper sitting at the bar clearly waiting for a drink from the bartender. A half smile crept onto your face and you snuck up behind him.

“Hey, Jes.” You said calmly from your sudden place right beside him.

Jesper jumped, “Holy shit, you have got to stop doing that.” Your gunslinging best friend put his hand over his heart, taking deep breaths dramatically as he settled back into his seat.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “How’s it going today?”

“I think I might just melt.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” You nodded your head in solemn agreement and ordered a drink. You took a moment to look around the club. You were searching for someone in particular but decided to pretend you were just surveying the floor. “Have you seen Brekker at all?” You questioned without even thinking and as the words left your mouth you wanted to smack yourself.

Jesper’s lips slipped into a teasing smirk as he lay his head in his hands. “I saw him earlier. He was watching the club for a bit and then went up to his office. Why? Is there some job you need to discuss with him? Or are you just looking for some unpleasant company?” Jesper’s tone was goading as he watched your face closely for a reaction.

Your brows furrowed in annoyance and you rolled your eyes. “I was only wondering because I’m not used to not hearing his nags. Usually he’d have griped about something one of us did or didn’t do right and I’m just now realizing how strange it is to not have heard that already.”

Jesper hummed, and you couldn’t tell if he was convinced or not. “Well if you’re looking to sour your already lovely mood, I’m sure you can find him in his office.”

You scoffed and motioned to the bartender for another drink, but not for you this time. “I think I’ve had my fill of Jesper Fahey for the day. I’ll go make sure the boss man hasn’t melted into a puddle with his layered wardrobe.” You got up from your stool and elected to ignore the teasing comment the gunslinger threw your way as you shuffled through the crowd and toward Kaz’s office.

You knocked on the wooden door and waited a few seconds before cracking the door slowly and entering. You were going to say something as you entered the room but the words died on your tongue when you caught sight of your boss.

Kaz was sitting at his large desk, a gift you and the other Crows had all pitched in to get him two years prior. His eyes were focused intently on the stack of papers in front of him, and you noticed how his styled hair threatened to fall apart and into his face. His jacket was hanging on the back of his leather chair. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned and the sleeves of the black shirt had been rolled up past his forearms. The sunlight was streaming in through the two windows in the room, illuminating all the dust floaties that typically annoy you but at the moment seemed magical. All in all, your brain short circuited.

You stood there for several seconds, unmoving, simply staring watching Kaz in all his glory.

“Did you need something?” Kaz’s gruff voice broke you out of your stupor.

“Just came to give you this, really.” You explained carefully, walking toward him slowly and setting his drink down on the edge of the wooden desk. Kaz eyed the drink suspiciously with a raised eyebrow. “It wouldn’t exactly be good for my paycheck if you died of heat stroke.” You supplemented.

“How heroic of you.” Kaz scoffed, unimpressed and put his attention back on the papers in front of him. You rolled your eyes and looked around the room.

You grabbed one of the chairs in front of your boss’s desk and dragged it quietly to the window. He hadn’t told you to get lost, and for some reason, there wasn’t anywhere you’d rather be than Kaz’s stuffy office, right now. You sat down and pulled a book from your bag. You took one last cautious glance at Brekker before settling down into your chair and picking up your book from where you’d left off.

You spent the next several hours like this. You wouldn’t have even noticed any time had passed were it not for the movement of your light source –the sun. Somehow, this moment felt so clandestine. There was something so unnervingly domestic in the hours you’d just spent together. So unnerving that it felt as if the whole thing was some deep secret the two of you must take to your graves in order to keep your peace. You gently closed your book, as it had become a strain on your eyes to read in the dim lighting. You looked up at Kaz and saw he was getting out of his chair. Brekker unrolled his sleeves and you found yourself missing the delicious sight of his veiny forearms. Control yourself, you begged internally. Kaz slid on his jacket and purposefully put all his papers away. Then he turned to you and gave you an expectant look that had your heart hammering in your chest.

“Time to go, then?” You asked rhetorically, getting up as well and re-shouldering your bag.

In truth, Kaz had originally planned on working in his office at the club for a few more hours. In fact, he had also been planning on doing another round of surveying the floor a couple of hours ago, but had not done so. At the time, he didn’t want to leave your company and now, didn’t want you hurting your eyes trying to keep him company. Kaz picked up the empty glass on his desk to drop off at the bar on your way out. It had been his favorite summer drink. When did you figure that out? Did you even know? Either way, Dirtyhands had enjoyed the beverage far more than he should have.

You and Kaz walked together down the cobblestone road from the Club to the Slat. A comfortable silence hung between the two of you. Night had fallen so the street lights provided the only cheap illumination of the uneven pathway ahead. The temperature was still hotter than you’d ever prefer, but there was a constant cool breeze that kept you from staggering under the hot heavy air. Kaz’s cane clicked rhythmically against the ground as the two of you meandered toward the Slat.

You risked a glance at the boy beside you and felt your breath catch. It wasn’t fair. How could someone look so pretty just existing? Everyone would surely laugh you out of Kerch if they heard you thought the infamous Dirtyhands was pretty. But it’s true, in the weirdest of ways, Kaz Brekker is very pretty.

“Is there something on my face?” Kaz probed suddenly.

“Huh?” You blinked in surprise at the unanticipated interruption of the fragile silence.

“I said; Is there something on my face? You’re staring.”

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment at getting caught ogling. “Yes, I was trying to figure out what it was. It’s right here.” You lied with confidence, pointing to a random spot along your chin to show where you’d found the invisible spot on his face.

Kaz’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion and offense, but brushed his chin anyway.

“There you go.” You reassured him with a lilt.

“That book you were reading earlier…” Kaz paused, for the first time in a long time seemingly unsure about his next words, “is it good?” His voice grew quieter at the end and your lips pulled into an excited grin.

You instantly began an enthusiastic ramble about your latest book. Describing in detail the plot and your favorite and least favorite characters with rapid hand motions. Kaz originally only watched you through short glances, but quickly he took to rapt attention. You had enthralled him. The Bastard of the Barrel gazed with uncharacteristic interest as you went off about the book, mentally taking notes about all the things you spoke about with increased passion. He decided right then and there that his first errand tomorrow would be to the bookstore. He was overcome with the unusual desire to engage you in an equally eager discussion about this book he’d previously never heard of.

Kaz drank in your form and felt his heart thundering in his chest. He was growing warmer, and he subconsciously knew the weather was not to blame. Against the dark backdrop of the night and draped in the honey-color lamp light Kaz Brekker was sure you were an angel. Rolling your eyes at the stupid decisions a character you were describing had made, Kaz felt his heart roll with you.

Kaz kept you engaged by asking further questions about the book, specific enough to tell you he’d been listening attentively. Your heart soared at this demonstration and your grin widened impossibly. Words could not describe the joy this boy was giving you in this moment.

And all of the sudden, like a rock slide, your minds hit both of you with possibly the scariest and worst realization.

I love you.

The words were heavy on your tongues, too heavy to convey. Those three life changing words were not uttered, but the mutual realization was rocking. And as if your minds were truly connected, the both of you immediately blamed the dreaded summer for this unexpected awareness of your own feelings. It was this cruel summer to blame, obviously. The characteristic heat and the light of summer that was so unusual for Ketterdam that it made it easier to romanticize things. It tricked you. Lightening the quintessential gloomy mood of the Barrel and erupting feelings not fit for the reality of this city.

But at the same time, maybe it wasn’t so bad. You were putting the pieces together and finally understood the real reason behind your recently pleasant mood. Falling in love with Kaz Brekker, the Bastard of the Barrel, may not be the smartest decision, but it was a decision that evoked the most wonderful feelings. Your skin was itching and butterflies danced in your stomach but you had no desire to get rid of them. You embraced them, because they were proof of your love for the young man beside you.

Kaz now understood why so many great novels were centered around love. Dirtyhands was slowly coming to the conclusion that his recent special interest in you was not without reason. And yes, it was terrifying. Yes, it was perturbing. But if this feeling is love –and he was unfortunately sure that’s what this is– then he can’t imagine trying to get rid of it. Kaz Brekker can no longer picture a life where he does not love you, and this picture is becoming less and less frightening by the minute.

You’re washed with elation when you notice the barest ghost of a smile gracing Kaz’s carved features. How can a man not be happy in your presence?

Summer can be awful. It can be uncomfortable. It can be agonizing. But it can also be a gift. Or rather, in the Barrel, it can come bearing gifts. Like the gift of loving someone who’s been by your side for many summers prior, and hopefully will be for many summers more.

[m30wk1ttycat]

gally's runner

pairing: gally x gn!reader

tw: none

summary: you got into an argument with gally, and everytime you try to talk to him, you get too nervous to actually do so. (requested.)

I'M SO SORRY Y'ALL HAD TO WAIT FOR SO LONG TO GET SUCH A SHORT FIC 🙏

it was, quite frankly, stupid. the argument, the unnecessary yelling, everything.

and all because you decided to volunteer to be a runner, since one of the runners had gone through the changing and was banished recently.

"y/n, did you really think it was a good idea to just volunteer?" gally scolded, pacing back and forth. "to volunteer to be a shucking runner?" he added.

"but it's my choice, you don't get to just tell me what i can and can't do!" you shouted.

"i'm trying to look out for you!" he yelled back.

"then don't!"

he stopped pacing, turning to look at you with a scowl. he was just about to say something, but you spoke up as soon as he opened his mouth.

"listen, i can take care of myself. i don't need this bullshit about how i shouldn't have done this and that, just because you don't think i'm capable of being a runner."

you weren't done yet.

"i'm sick of you underestimating me. i'm sick of everyone thinking i'm not smart enough, strong enough, fast enough. but i know that i can -- and i will -- do this," you said, slamming the door shut behind you.

as much as you wanted to apologize to him, being a runner was draining. you had to wake up, eat if you didn't sleep in, run, get back safely, map the maze, take a shower, eat if you had enough strength to even get up, sleep, and repeat. even if you had the time and energy to do something other than exercise and massage your legs to soothe the pain, everytime you walked by where the builders usually were, you could never bring yourself to actually talk to him.

you wanted to, you really did. but at this point, avoiding him seemed like a much better choice than to awkwardly attempt to talk things out with him.

so, gally took matters into his own hands. oh my, what a gentleman.

a knock sounded at the door, making everyone in the map room stare blankly at the door as if that would open it.

minho decided to open the door, revealing a rather exhausted looking gally standing there with his arms crossed.

"yeah?" minho asked.

"alby's looking for y/n," he lied. the look of confusion on your face was priceless, in his opinion. maybe minho's, too.

"what does he need?" you asked skeptically.

"didn't say."

you looked at minho as if looking for a confirmation that you could leave. the only response you got from him was a gesture for you to just go outside as he continued holding the door open for you. alby was the first-in-command, after all -- whatever it was that he need, surely, it had to be something important, and minho understood that.

the moment the door closed behind you, you turned to look at gally, asking, "where is he?"

"he didn't need anything from you, i just wanted to talk to you," he confessed.

"aren't you supposed to be fixing the med-hut's roof?" you questioned.

you could basically see him wanting to facepalm right then and there.

"i'm on my break, y/n," he explained.

"and why do you-"

he took your arm and led you away from the map room. this was not something that the runners needed to hear.

"what's going on with you?" he asked as soon as you were away from most of the gladers.

"nothing."

"don't lie to me, we both know that it's not 'nothing'." he looked at you with an expectant look on his face, awaiting an answer. he wasn't mad at you. if he was, then he was doing a really good job at hiding it -- which was something that gally wasn't very good at. if he was angry, he'd have probably screamed his head off. just like those two weeks ago.

holy shit, you've been avoiding him for two weeks.

your eyes widened in realization, but then you answered. this time, you were truthful.

"i'm sorry i acted the way i did. i wanted to tell you that i'm sorry, but i just.. i didn't know how," you said, "so, i started to avoid you, because i was too nervous to talk to you." he nodded, letting you continue. "i'm sorry -- not just for avoiding you, but for everything. i know you meant well, and i know that you were just looking out me. i didn't mean to snap at you like that. i know this isn't an excuse, but i just wanted to help out in some way."

"i know you did, and that's okay," he promised, his tone much softer now. "i'm also sorry. for making you feel like you weren't enough."

you hugged him, and the second your head hit his chest, you felt his burly arms wrap around your waist.

"i love you, i hope you know that," you heard him murmur, "even if you don't make the smartest decisions sometimes."

"i love you, too."

"does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"

"yes, gally."

and with that, you pecked his cheek, and he kissed your forehead in return.

[urproblematicfav-arsonk]

So pretending Viv didn't retcon her own fucking lore drop on twitter by being like "omg!! If it wasn't obvioussssss, he was lying. Silly guy. Isn't the sin of WRATH such a egoistical, self absorbed PRIDEFUL guy"—

I'm very into this idea that Satan, and the Imps and all the Hellborn are the indigenous people of Hell.

Which would mean, that Lucifer got banished to a foreign land, immediately claimed ownership of it, allowed/told his wife to manipulate everyone with her singing, and then proceeded to flood Hell with human Sinner's that he also made legally above all the Hellborn. And then got...bored?? And quit actively being king to go make ducks and emotionally abuse his daughter.

Like, holy shit is Lucifer being a metaphor for white colonialism fucking INSANE. The running assumption (and Viv's bullshit on twitter) has been that Lucifer and the other Sin's were together as a group. That the circus theme, and the rings, and the Goetia was just the world they built. But, if Satan and the Sin's were just the indigenous people who lived there, that sure as fuck makes the circus theme more creepy?

Circuses have historically been horrifying displays of human cruelty. Human trafficking, the buying and selling of people with dwarfism as toys or pets, physical torture and extreme conditions, racisim, rape, animal abuse, just like...bad stuff. There were probably some circuses that were fine, but the vast majority of the time it wasn't done humanely or with any dignity to the people performing.

Lucifer, showed up and just like, forced the Sin's into a Circus they didn't want to be apart of? The Circus isn't a thing anymore, because Lucifer isn't as into it, and all of the Sin's seem perfectly fine not doing it anymore.

Thing is, who the fuck was this Circus for?

The only thing I can think of is Lucifer wanting to feel in control again after being banished, and trying to establish the Sinner's as the deserving and dominate "race".

He would've forced Queen B to humiliate and abuse her hellhounds to do...tricks and dances on balls or whatever the fuck, to show how lowly and animalistic they are. Hellhounds aren't like Sinner's. Sinner's are just people with animal traits, they're REAL PEOPLE unlike these dogs.

He would've forced Ozzie to make his Hellborn and Imps to do dangerous and unnecessary acts. The big difference between Hellborn and Sinner's, is that the Hellborn can actually die. So when the Sinner's see a Imp fall from a trapeze act, or end up set on fire and hurt, they'll see that they're inherently better because they aren't that frail. And again, historically circuses had a lot of human trafficking, sex, labor or otherwise. Ozzie runs the sex industry, and I wouldn't be surprised if there was overlap there in the start.

Mamm and Levi seem to be on the infrastructure side, building and maintaining the society and rings everyone lives on. We KNOW that Imps and Hellborn are underprivileged and lack resources. Hellhounds are forced into shelters where they're thrown out the second the little social funding they have runs out. Imps are basically constantly struggling, and never seem to have stable lives. I wouldn't be surprised if most of the support and care that the Hellborn need are being used to "fix" the "overpopulation" issue that Lucifer caused.

And Satan. Holy shit is forcing Satan, the original king to Hell, and the creator of the main indigenous peoples of Hell, to be the fucking "Law" absolutely horrifying. The fact that Satan is in such a high position of power(supposedly) and he's here, making an "example" of a Imp to get the bureaucracy off his ass and move on with his life. Well, if the god of Imps says that they're all disgusting rapists who are after the poor, innocent white Goetia then that must be true!!!! HORRIFYING. WHAT THE FUCK.

Lucifer forced the original gods of Hell to debase, and humiliate their peoples for the entertainment of his Sinner's, and then got fucking bored and left the circus to hide away in his castle. No wonder Ozzie is a consent freak and B is so concerned about people self harming.

There's a world, where Hazbin Hotel actually takes RISKS, and tries to do something interesting. But Viv backtracks every time. And also would never allow her villian characters to be...ya know....villainous. But Luci can't do more then be kinda a little abusive to his daughter but only in a sad way, otherwise he's not a gooodddd guyyyyyy nooooooo.

Anyway, I'm very attached to this indigenous Satan au. Fuck Lucifer, give the Imps their fucking land back you colonizing bitch, and let Satan be the king of Pride again. And stop forcing them to fucking celebrate your dad's son by claiming it's actually just about celebrating youuuu and your sinnn. Shut the fuck up you goddamn weirdo.

[kaeyas-beloved]

gn!reader (you/your), ballroom dancing with Wriothesley, short little fluff piece for you all :)

"You're not much of a ballroom dancer, are you?" At your gentle tease, Wriothelsey chuckles awkwardly, unable to fully admit it, especially when the murmur of other guests and the lull of music fills the lavish, silver-accented room.

"Well... I mean... Monsieur Neuvillette didn't exactly teach me before inviting me. I never had a reason to learn either," he settles on as a reply, shrugging his shoulders as he looks at you. Much like everyone else in the room, you too are dressed like nobility, your attire flattering your being in all the right ways from colour to design. For less than a second, the Duke wonders if his normal clothes weren’t as formal enough as he first thought they were.

The thought passes as Wriothesley dances in step with you, a few added flares here and there. Despite your gentle jab at his skills, he’s not a terrible dance partner, nor is he overbearing. His touch is just right and respectful, it feels like you’re on equal grounds with one another. Why were you so nervous to engage with him again?

Ah, perhaps it was because he’s so stunning to look at… yes, that sounds about right.

“Do you dance often?” The question brings you back, and this indescribable feeling overcomes you as it hits you again that you’re truly dancing with the Duke of Meropide.

“No,” you begin, gliding away only to let him gently tug you back into step with him, “but I've known how to for some time. It was a requirement as Lady Furina’s attendant. There were bound to be banquets I’d attend. Others I'd be required to dance with.”

“I see. Well, you’re an excellent dancer if I do say so myself.” The tiny smile he flashes you affects you more than you thought it would. Rougish, rough around the edges, you suppose it's because something gentle from a man who seems anything but is like seeing a magic show conducted for you and you alone. Something only a number could say they'd witnessed.

Unfortunately, all magic must end at one point and yours ends with the music coming to a crescendoing end, an arm tightening its hold as you're pulled forward and heavy pants from both you and your dance partner. The reality sets in, you're mere inches away from Wriothesley, heart beating, chest heaving, breath mingling and having just spun and twirled with him around the room and holy shit did that really happen?

The next heave of air is accompanied by a chuckle, the afterglow exhilarating and freeing. When was the last time you felt this way after a dance? Like it wasn't a necessity for your job? A very long time, you reckon, or maybe never at all.

"For a first-timer, you're not too bad yourself. Could I perhaps ask you for a second dance? Practice makes perfect, you know?" You ask, wondering if your smile (which felt too big but you didn't care) was giving away the desperation to keep him in your company for just a little longer.

You didn't think so after he said, "It would be my honour," while still adorning that handsome smile and adding what you had to chalk up as an unnecessary but mood-fitting bow at the waist and oh Archons help you, the next orchestral symphony could not begin fast enough for your liking.

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @kaeyaloml // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kunikuzushiii // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato // @milkwithspiceyicecubes // @stygianoir // @francisnyx // @leemidnightmoon // @bisexuawolfsalt

[averageyinyulover]

I'm highkey disgusted at the hate sent towards people who ship different things in TGCF. Let those people live their lives and love their ships. I have seen cute and beautiful artwork for ships like Huayin, fenglian, mulian, and other ships and I see so much hate. Sure, Hua Cheng waited 800 years for Xie Lian, but these people aren't spreading hate. To send death threats and mean comments to people who ship HUAYIN specifically is disgusting.

If you have hated on these ships or people enjoying these ships please dni w me. You can not like a ship but what happened to fandom culture? Smh y'all would not survive SVSSS shipping.

There is one artist I enjoy specifically who gets so much hate for their Huayin and they really don't deserve it because from what I have seen they seem like a kind person and the hate is unnecessary. I will scroll on tiktok and see people being like "Huayin makes no sense and I can't stand people who ship any of the main ship with other people" and in the comments it's like "this is about that one huayin artist isn't it"

SHUT THE FUCK UP HOLY SHIT. do not hate on people for enjoying a ship that is LEGAL and can make sense. Huayin can be cute and I enjoy the fanart a lot, and I am saying this as one of the biggest Quanyin and hualian lovers.

Rarepairs also hold a special place in my heart. If you can like rarepairs in other fandoms you can ignore ones you don't like in TGCF.

I am not trying to pick a fight and am not trying to say i am a proshipper. Proshipping IS disgusting and I do not support it but will not stand on hate for people shipping LEGAL AND UNRELATED CHARACTERS.

"MXTX doesn't want people to ship-" IT WILL INEVITABLY BE SHIPPED THIS IS FANDOM WE'RE TALKING ABOUT AND THIS IS ALSO PEOPLE WE ARE TALKING ABOUT. Would you stop shipping Quanyin, Fengqing, or anything else if she said she didn't like it? Or in other fandoms authors don't want people to ship VERY POPULAR ships but those are very often ignored. Mxtx cannot control her fanbase and as an author understands that stuff will inevitably be shipped in different ways. Like I said: SVSSS. Nobody gets mad at them for shipping Liu Qingge and Shen Yuan, do they? They move past it, TGCF fandom should learn from them.

This does not get addressed enough in this fandom and it really just makes me sad seeing all the hate :/. Especially on nice people. Sorry for the more serious post than usual but it makes me super upset seeing the disgusting things thrown at artists.

Thank you, love you guys 🫶

[juyeonszn]

I LOOK BETTER UNDER YOU

PAIRING choi chanhee x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.62k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, TW: LEWIS STRUCTURES/CHEMISTRY TERMS 🤢🤢🤢, academic rivals to something idk, kev and jichang appearances, chanhee is a cocky little shit, vaginal fingering, edging, exhibitionism lowkey, there’s not p in v action but they are in a public space so…. take with that what u will

SUMMARY aside from excelling at literally everything else, choi chanhee was also really fucking good at getting on your last nerve.

MORE my brain hurts LOL anyway fawntober day???? 7 holy fuck that is actually insane… ANYWAY shout out reese for being my beta as always <3 and also shout out @sungbeam for the idea <3 laurv u bestie!!! pls reblog if u enjoyed :)

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You felt stupid. Never in your life had you ever struggled to learn a concept, usually understanding on the first go around. This was the case for a majority of your courses. However, for some reason you just couldn’t quite grasp Lewis Structures in your Chemistry class.

Everything else seemed simple enough, your professor explaining them in a way that made them sound easy. They were anything but. You found yourself stressing over whether or not you could fully comprehend the bonds between atoms in time for your midterm. With the way it was going for you, that hope appeared to get less and less realistic.

“Have you thought about going to tutoring?” Your friend, Kevin, asks as you sit across from each other in one of the library’s study rooms, your chemistry textbook opened up to the section on Lewis Structures.

“I mean, no, I haven’t. I just think they’d judge me, considering I have the second highest GPA in our department.” You huff, scribbling down even more notes on the concept, as if you didn’t already have everything you needed to know. God, being a woman in STEM was so hard.

“That’s your problem,” Kevin rolls his eyes, working on his communications homework simultaneously. “Your ego is too damn big. Maybe if you toned it down a notch and set aside your pride, you’d be able to grow the balls to actually ask for help.”

You’re offended, honestly. Because as much as he was right, he was simultaneously very wrong. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the courage to ask for assistance. It was the fact that your biggest rival was the person in charge of the science department’s tutoring lab. He had the highest GPA in your year and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing to him. Let alone showing your weak side.

Aside from excelling at literally everything else, Choi Chanhee was also really fucking good at getting on your last nerve. You were thankful that he wasn’t in your Chemistry lecture, lest he made fun of you for all the questions you asked pertaining to your struggles. He had a knack for crawling under your skin like a goddamn parasite, doing everything in his power to make sure you never felt a moment of peace as long as he was around.

You hated him. You hated him so much for all of the unnecessary competition and constant need to one-up you in every mutual category possible. You hated his overall overachievement to be better than you, to be above you at all costs. You hated his dumb pretty face.

So how could you turn to tutoring after all of that? It just wasn’t feasible. Kevin wouldn’t get it. He didn’t have an arch nemesis holding him back from success.

“That’s not it at all, Kev. But it’s whatever, I’ll figure this shit out myself.”

You could not figure that shit out by yourself. Midterms were a week and a half away, and you were still ripping your hair out over which structures were more dominant and other things of that nature. This was absolutely humiliating. Perhaps growing up as a gifted kid was the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.

With a frown permanently etched on your face, you glance over at your tablemate’s notes. He had messily scrawled examples of those damn Lewis Structures covering the sheet, eyes flickering back and forth between his notebook and the projector at the front of the lecture hall. Oh how badly you wished to be in his shoes, to decipher everything and anything to do with the dot structures presented to you.

Ji Changmin was by no means a genius. His intelligence levels were above average, but that was still below you. How could he understand this better than you? It made no sense. Then again, he was close friends with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. That had to be the reason why. His friend was practically the Einstein reincarnate.

This meant that you couldn’t even express your difficulties with him either. Chanhee no doubtedly knew that you sat beside his friend. If you asked for his help, it would obviously circle back to him and you’d never hear the end of it. You’d never unhear the taunting voice of Choi Chanhee teasing you for asking Ji Changmin for assistance with fucking Lewis Structures. There really was no winning here.

As the lecture draws to a close and your professor reminds you to study for the fast approaching midterm, Changmin clears his throat beside you with a raised eyebrow. You look at him with thinly concealed surprise. So much for being subtle.

“I saw you looking at my notes,” he snorts. “You know, if you’re having a hard time with this chapter, you should just go to the tutoring lab. I’m assuming you haven’t because Chanhee hasn’t gloated about it yet. But if you were curious, he won’t be there today. He has to go to some meeting for the newspaper. You know that guy’s got like ten different clubs he’s a part of.”

You’re not sure why Ji Changmin would be on your side with this. In fact, it kind of makes you skeptical. You didn’t know how credible he was, so why would you trust this information? For all you knew, he could’ve been attempting to lure you right into a trap. However, despite the bit of laughter he exhibited, he didn’t appear to be lying. You were usually a pretty good judge of character.

That’s how you found yourself showing up to the tutoring lab later that evening.

It was located inside of the STEM building on the fourth floor, along with some of the offices belonging to several professors. You chose to go later at night with the knowledge that most students would be gone by that time. The lab was available for use until 9 PM on weekdays, and it was currently 8 PM.

Your grip on the strap of your bag tightens as you push open the see-through glass door of the lab, grateful for the evident emptiness. Though it also worries you, because there were no tutors around either. Maybe the slowness of a Thursday evening encouraged them to head home early. You decide to wait a few minutes anyway, just in case someone shows up.

That was, unfortunately, a very big mistake. As you’re pulling out your notes and textbook, you hear the low creak of the door opening. You think you might keel over and die when you’re suddenly face to face with The Choi Chanhee.

His lips curl up almost menacingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well well well, look what the cat dragged in.”

“Shut the fuck up,” your teeth grit together. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting or something? Why are you here?”

“Ended early,” he shrugs. “The tutors have a habit of leaving prematurely when I’m not around, so I wanted to see if there was anyone here. Guess it’s my lucky day, huh?”

This dude was a walking headache for real. You were seriously going to walk out of the lab with a migraine if he kept talking like he was so fucking smart. He was, but he didn’t need to know that you thought that. His own ego was large enough without you inflating it even more.

“I’m going home.” You state simply, mouth drawn in a straight line. You didn’t have the patience for his aggravating ass tonight.

“Am I really that horrible that you won’t accept my aid? I heard that you’ve been having problems with Lewis Structures. I may like to joke around, but I’m not really a masochist who likes to watch people suffer,” Chanhee chuckles with a shake of his head. “You’re just so easy to rile up.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, avoiding his piercing gaze. “But fine. If you’re actually gonna help me, I’ll let you just this once. I can’t afford to have this cost me a perfect midterm grade.”

He grins, something that looks conniving. You hate how much more attractive it makes him. You were thankful again for the fact that there were no other students present. It was embarrassing enough to be seen being civil with the worst person in the world.

Chanhee takes the seat beside you, turning it so he’s facing you. You keep your body squared to the table, flipping your textbook to the page on Lewis Structures and preparing a fresh sheet in your notebook. You feel your cheeks warm up with the attention on you, his arms still folded in front of him.

“S-So I don’t get the— um— I don’t— uh— I don’t understand the dominant— the dominant bonds,” your eyes squeeze shut, mortified by the amount of stuttering and fumbling over your words. “How do you— um— how do you determine them?”

He smiles at how cute you are, a shy side of you he’s never seen before. He was so used to you constantly arguing with him, used to you standing your ground and competing with him even when you knew he’d come out on top. He places an arm on the back of your chair, leaning in to read what was in your textbook although he didn’t need to. He just wanted an excuse to get closer to you.

“So you’re gonna want your formal charge to be as close to zero as possible. In order to calculate that, you’ll have to subtract the number of bonds divided by two and the number of electron pairs from the total number of valence electrons per individual atom,” Chanhee explains, pointing at the formula on the page. “How about I give you a couple examples to work on?”

You nod slowly, afraid your voice might betray you again. He jots down a few molecular examples on your notebook, pausing for a moment to nip at his lip and examine you. You blink, a little confused by the action.

“What are you doing?” There’s a slight crack in your tone.

“I have an idea,” he licks his lips. “To make this more rewarding for us both.”

Your brows furrow, his response further perplexing you. One of his hands situates itself on your thigh, your eyes widening. Of all days to wear a skirt, why did you have to choose today? You glance between his face and his hand, lips parted.

“Ch-Chanhee?”

“Yes, pretty?”

You don’t know why the nickname has your upper and lower heartbeats skipping, sweat forming on your palms. You’d always been too preoccupied despising him for being so much better at everything than you were. But right now, his fingers creeping beneath the denim of your skirt, all of that seemed to fly out of the window. You gasp as his fingertips reach the lace of your panties.

“I can make you feel good,” he says into your ear, thumb massaging your thigh. “I can make this worth your while if you do well for me.”

He was giving you fucking whiplash. One second he was teasing you for coming to the tutoring lab, and the next he was trying to coax you into coming quite literally. You think you’re the insane one, however, because you can’t conjure a logical reason to say no.

“Okay,” you breathe, shakily picking up your mechanical pencil. “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

You begin to work on the first molecule he wrote out, trying to ignore his slender fingers pushing aside your underwear and rubbing your clit gently. Your bottom lip quivers when his lips make contact with your neck, kissing up and down softly with each circle of his phalanges on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Chanhee presses two fingers inside of your cunt, smiling against your skin when you whimper, nearly dropping your pencil. You fight back tears threatening to spill from your eyes due to lack of reaction, his digits so skilled at working your pussy and looping that knot in your abdomen. Your legs spread wider as you attempt to finish the first example as quickly as possible, so he can knock you over that edge that seems so close now.

“D-Done,” you shiver, lids almost fluttering shut from pure bliss.

Chanhee judges your answer, fingers halting their movements when he recognizes an error. You whine, that taste of sweet release pulled right from under you like a rug. He tsks, kissing your temple as if he hadn’t just denied you an orgasm.

“That’s not the dominant structure. Try again.” He instructs, not continuing until you’ve picked up the pencil and rewrote the Lewis Structure.

You ignore his palm applying pressure to your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of your drooling cunt, lips sucking at the exposed base of your neck, where it meets your shoulder. Your focus zeroes in on completing this structure correctly, rearranging the electron bonds until they’re right. You feel your climax returning when he praises you for getting it this time.

“Such a smart girl,” he murmurs into your collarbone. “Now do the other one.”

He doesn’t stop his assault, increasing the pace of his fingers while you scribble out numbers and draw electron pairs. Your orgasm inches towards you, like a freight train going at full speed. Chanhee curls his middle finger, tripping you up and causing you to write down a wrong number on accident. Ever the perceptive, he relaxes his wrist and retracts his hand, the band in your stomach loosening along with it.

“Please, Chanhee,” you cry, tears beginning to roll down your cheeks. “Need to cum so bad.”

“Mm-mm,” he scolds. “Not until you finish the structure properly. C’mon, I know you can be a good girl for me.”

You force yourself to persevere, bottom lip between your teeth when he slips his fingers back into your pussy. Pretending like you weren’t on the cusp of euphoria was making you dizzy, but it was necessary if you wanted to reach it completely. You couldn’t handle a third denial.

Chanhee speeds up his fingers, adding his thumb on your clit for extra stimulation. It was like he did enjoy watching you suffer. Perhaps he really was a masochist. You scrawl the last electron bond of the structure, releasing the pencil from your grasp and throwing your head back with a low whine. He hums in appreciation at a job well done.

“Oh my god,” you moan softly, looking down at where his hand disappears in your skirt. “Feels s-so good.”

“Yeah?” Chanhee goads, peppering kisses on your jaw and nibbling at your pulse point. “Ready to cum for me, pretty? Gonna cum all over my fingers?”

You can’t even reply, his cocky voice filling your head as he finally permits your orgasm, walls convulsing and clenching around his digits with a wail. It hasn’t even occurred to you that you’re in a very public, very open space, where anyone could walk in at any given moment. Your brain is too foggy from your overstimulated cunt and the comprehension that Choi Chanhee just fucking fingered you to even consider the consequences of the location.

It only takes a few seconds for you to come to, your body catching up with your head. You look at Chanhee with eyes resembling those of a prey cornered by its predator.

“Why is your hand still inside my skirt?”

“‘S warm down there,” he shrugs with a sly smile. “Besides, I’m not really done with you yet.”

“What are you talking about…?” You trail off, throat dry from how winded this guy was making you.

“You still need some practice before your midterm, no? And I kinda wanna see how pretty you look under me.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter Twenty-Three

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

I think top down tea shots will be my new thing. Look how cute it is seeing the tea leaves. Today I have a white tea with lavender and lemongrass. Very soothing, very tasty.

Also took off my second skin for my tattoo this morning and omg is my arm RAW. Its always hit and miss with the second skin for me. I love healing with it, but the removal is a little brutal. It tends to come off fine in some places and exfoliates a little too hard in others. Anyways, my skin is now free and breathing!

let's get into chapter 23:

"only good at dying and running away" oh poor buddy, seeing parallels in himself and Qi Rong. You really aren't the same people at all my guy :((( p249

What the heck! Excessive much?! This guy had 300 people-snacks in storage. That seems like a bit much, my guy. How often does he eat an entire person? p250

I love how Hua cheng deduced the real story of the Gilded Banquet because, at the heart of his theory, he just had so much faith and knowledge about the integrity of Xie Lian. p253

This guy, "you never know. I don't care if anyone else is disappointed. But to some, the very existence of a certain person in the world is in itself, hope." p253

Oh gosh, here comes the wind master interrupting A Moment between our boys. Xie Lian really was giving heart eyes and asking "who are you? :'3" p255

LOOOOL The Wind Master using his feminine wiles to scare poor Feng Xin into lowering his weapon. The power of those titties is out of control. p257

"Crimson Rain Sought Flower is your sworn brother" sure LOL we'll call him that. p261

Holy shit this man. That blood rain! What an absolute power move. omg Hua Cheng. p263

So Listen

I am a whole lesbian and even I think that Hua Cheng's exit in this chapter was hot as hell. What style, what class, what overt and completely unnecessary display of power. I'm not even mad that this was a short chapter because <chefs kiss>.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Vino Veritas - Part II

A Destination Wedding Frank x Fem!Reader Fic

Attending the wedding of your ex-fiancé gets slightly better when you meet someone having just as miserable a time as you... Warnings: Nothing too serious holy shit. Cursing. Broken engagement. Nihilism, existential bullshit, copious amounts of sarcasm. Eventual nsfw, not this chapter. Angst. Grump/sunshine trope. Loosely based on the movie but I'm not that smart. Or bitter. 😆 chapter map.

II. The Interminable Fucking Car Ride

“So…what do you do?”

“I run the marketing department for JD Power.”

“The car trophy people?”

“That’s a magazine.”

“Ah. So you’re the grand architect of big corporate’s bid to tell us what to think while slyly taking all our money.”

He snorts. “Only those who are incapable of thinking for themselves. Somehow, that doesn’t seem to apply to you.”

If you squint, that almost felt like he was paying you a compliment.

“So, what do you do?” he asks in turn.  

You don’t know why you’re almost embarrassed to tell him. “I run an art gallery/gift shop on the beach in Playa Bonita.”

He blinks, those lovely dark eyes fixed on you for a moment. “Of course you do.”

“What does that mean?”

He huffs a little. It almost sounds wistful, but then he frowns, utterly fucking ruining the moment.  “You just look the type.”

You’re not sure why that stings…or why you even give a fuck.

The Fucking Rehearsal Dinner

“I’ve never really understood the point of the rehearsal dinner. Is eating so hard we really have to rehearse it?”

You sense an almost twitch of the corner of Frank’s mouth. They have stuck you together at a table in the far back. The black sheep who they felt they had to invite, but didn’t really want to.

“Not to miss the opportunity to make the groom’s parents spend unnecessary money too?” Frank offers.

“Fair to spread the misery, I guess.”

“Didn’t you sue Keith over this shit?”

“My parents did. They lost thirty thousand dollars in deposits.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. No one should spend that kind of money on a wedding.”

“Strangely, I agree with you now. I didn’t know any better at the time.” You’d been so young, you could hardly even fathom how much thirty-thousand dollars was.

Your parents had been happy at the time with the prospect of marrying you off to Keith. He’d been successful, charming, and outwardly doting on you. They never really thought you had much going on your own, so they probably thought he was the best you could do. The thought still hurts, more than it should.

“I mean,” you blurt, “Did you know who you are or what you wanted when you were 20?”

“Of course not.”

“He was my whole world. When he dumped me. It...it really fucked me up.” You don't know why you're admitting this to this near total stranger. There is just something about his forthright manner that demands honesty. 

“Ah well, join the club. My father tried to shoot me once, if it makes you feel any better.”

You blink. “He tried to shoot you?”

“Yes. With a gun.”

“What did you do?”

“I ran at him.”

“You ran at him? Not away from him?”

“Yeah. Well, I was pissed off. He tried to shoot me again, but I got the gun away from him and hit him with it. Broke his orbital bone. He said I was the accumulation of all his bad decisions. He started to cry and begged me to kill him. I didn’t, only because I didn’t want to fuck my whole life up. The poor bastard jumped out the seventh floor the next day.”

Before you can stop yourself you reach out to place your hand on his on the table.

Before he can stop himself, his long fingers close around yours.

This connection endures for precisely 1.5 seconds before he shakes you off.

“I’m fine.”

“I don’t think your fine.”

“Fine, I’m all fucked up, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

You sigh, sinking down in your chair, embarrassed. Why did you touch him? What were you thinking?

“I guess we’re in the club together,” you answer miserably.

You feel him looking at you out the corner of his eye. There is a weight to this man’s gaze. It’s not unpleasant, just…you feel as though he sees everything.

“I feel like we should get at least decoder rings or something,” he grumbles.

The bride and groom make their entrance, interrupting whatever acerbic thing you were going to say next. You watch as they make their way through the crowd, basking in the glow of being the center of attention. Keith always loved that shit. You hate to admit, that his bride to be is a solid stone cold foxy 10. The kind of woman that men will trip over themselves for as they walk down the street.

You weren’t bad looking but you’d never had that kind of power.

If you wanted to trip a man, you had to do the dirty work and actually stick out your foot.

“Oh, look at us, let us presume to inconvenience you with the ostentatious display of our love,” you mock quietly in a mousy little falsetto.

It actually makes Frank laugh. At least, you think it’s a laugh. Maybe it was indigestion.

He joins in, though forgoing the funny voice, “And we’re conceited enough to think we’re actually different from the rest of the human race, and our love will last forever and ever…”

You’re enjoying this malicious bit of fun, but there is something in the way that he says it that makes you pause. “You don’t think love can ever last?” you ask.

He snorts. “Well, he doesn’t. I heard the prenup she had to sign was brutal,” he tells you.

 “Poor thing.”

“You really feel sorry for her?”

“Slightly?”

“Are you going to say hello?”

You sigh. “I guess I fucking better.”

You slowly make to stand, the chair screeching under you. “Give ‘em hell, kid.”

You flip Frank the bird as you go, and hear that peculiar strangled sound that must pass for his outward expression of mirth.

Dumb ass free shit you would never do on your own

"I spoke to the bride last night."

“Indeed?”

You’ve had pedicures before, but you’ve never sprung for a professional foot massage, and you have to admit it feels pretty good. It totally surprised you to find Frank there, but he’d informed you unashamedly that he can’t resist free shit. You find that amusing, considering he’s obviously comfortable, if not outright rich.

Maybe that’s how he stays that way.

“Yes, and she told me she doesn’t mind that you’re here, and she’s not threatened by you.”

You snort at that, taking a long sip of your iced latte.

“At least, I think she meant you. She’s dumb as a box of rocks, it was hard to tell who or what she was talking about at times.”

You sigh at hearing that. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to soothe my feelings.”

It’s his turn to snort. “Merely reporting facts, I assure you. If you still feel badly about Keith and have not managed to move on to one of the other 8 billion people on this planet, then there is no helping you.”

“Is that your method for getting over a bad breakup?” He makes it sound so easy, you cannot help but roll your eyes at him.

“No, I have opted out of that shit show. It makes me uniquely qualified to offer comment on your own situation.”

You tilt you head in confusion, looking over at him. “You’ve…opted out of what? Dating? Romance? Marriage?”

“All of the above. It never ends well, as I have learned from watching my mother’s train wreck of a life as she blithely stumbled between marriages and boyfriends and suitors.”

“That’s so sad,” you blurt before you can stop yourself.

If you hadn’t already started to learn this man’s gestures, you would have missed the way he stiffened slightly, staring fixedly down at his feet.

“How many times have you been in love?” he asks.

You think about it, and regret the answer. “Just the once.” With Keith, the asshole. Any one who came after didn’t have much luck getting over the wall you built to protect yourself from another heartbreak.

He looks at you then, and you are pinned by those chocolate brown eyes, that for once seem earnest rather than annoyed. “What’s it like?”

The fact that this man, who is at least ten if not fifteen years your elder, is asking you tears your heart into little bits of confetti.  

“It’s like going insane,” you answer truthfully, and he looks back down, frowning.

“I thought so.”

***

You are standing in your inflatable body bumpers together on the sidelines, declining to partake in this insane sport, content to watch the others attempt to inflict cervical injuries on themselves and others.

The question is eating at you, and you decide what the hell. What’s he going to do? Be mean to you?

“So, you’ve never been in love?”

“I don’t think so,” he answers, frowning, though it’s the same frown he’s been wearing for the past hour watching the idiots running around the field.

“Believe me, you would know.”

“Do insane people know they’re insane?”

“Ok, maybe that was a bad comparison. It’s…total surrender.”

“Wow, you’re really talking it up.”

“It is though. You have these special feelings for a person, and you just know whatever they do to you, it won’t matter, because you’ll still care for them.”

“It doesn’t matter, until it does matter.”

“Some people have higher tolerances for pain than others.”

“If you loved Keith you could probably take a Caesar-style stabbing without flinching.”

You’re not sure how exactly to respond to that.

“At any rate. I prefer to avoid pain rather than withstand it. My parents inflicted quite enough. No need to spread it around.”

“Alright, I get it that your parents sufficiently traumatized you, with the failed marriages and the…shooting thing. But doesn’t there come a point where you have to let it go and rise above it?”

“I don’t see any reason to.”

“Think about all your missing out on though.”

“What exactly is that?”

“You know…human connection. The things that make life worth living.”

“Jesus, are you sure you don’t work for Hallmark?”

“Positive.”

“I bet you sell rocks in your shop that have inspirational words carved in them.”

“Of course I do. The markup on those things is astronomical.”

You see him smirk out the corner of his eye.

“I bet you also sell little statues of big-eyed children slinging bible verses.”

“Ohhh, now those are fighting words, sir.” You bump him lightly with your inflatable tutu, making him shuffle a step. For a fleeting moment, you catch a hint of a smile, and it feels like a resounding victory.

Feeling bold, you fix him with an earnest stare. “You claim you’ve opted out of this mess. But what if you meet someone you really like?”

“Then I should probably run swiftly in the opposite direction,” he says, paying you a side-eyed look.

Five minutes later, he does quit the field, though he doesn’t quite run from it. You tell your self that it’s just a coincidence, and that he was just done standing in a polyvinyl orb in this heat.

But deep down…there is the tiniest kindling of something in your heart, and you know you should kick dirt over that shit and stomp on it.

You don’t, and you carry a ridiculous little light feeling with you as you return to the hotel.

It feels like you swallowed a butterfly.

[ezra-editss]

I finally got myself to watch X-Men Dark Phoenix, after a lot of you warned me and told me not to.

I think what bothered me the most weren't the things that didn't make sense, but the fact it was so fucking serious. There were NO JOKES and NO HAPPINESS. It felt like they didn't have fun with this movie. This is so unusual for marvel movies and a scene like the one with Peter in the Pentagon in Days of Future Past, would've helped this movie so much. The only happiness we got were the minutes 8-18 and the very last scene.

Because I heard a lot about people being bothered with what they did with Charles, let's talk about that. I think he's blamable for some stuff and for some not.

Lying to Jean as a kid might've been the wrong choice, but it was a hard one and I get it. I also don't think it made that much of a difference overall.

Blocking away most of her power, technically not that stupid of an idea, terrible execution. He should've tried to help her control it, but more like he did with Erik. I think if she'd grown up with all her power, it could've worked. And if it wouldn't have, then he could've done it, if it was her wish. She didn't want all that power, so if she had tried for a long time and it just didn't work, I feel like she would've wanted it herself. So this is on him, like he admitted.

Can't say they did him wrong here tho, as he literally did this in the old timeline too.

Where they did him wrong tho was his reaction to Raven's death tho, because why was he barely bothered😭. And even tho I don't really blame him for it, HE would.

I might be alone with this, but besides some of his reactions or the lack of those, I do think the first half of the movie is, in that sense, not bad. I like the conflict and I do believe Charles could lose himself when he finds a way that works really well. He dreamed of that his entire life, so him losing sight of the thing as a whole, when he gets it, doesn't seem out of character to me.

Who was way more out of character was ERIK. I WAS SO MADDDD. At least in the middle of the movie. I first liked what they did with him, having built something that's similar to what Charles did. Protecting mutants. And then he tells Jean what he learned.. AND THEN GOES EVIL AGAIN?! I'M SORRY?! That was so god damm unnecessary, as we already had Jean and fucking aliens😭. And over Raven's death?? Why are they suddenly acting like he cares for her deeply, when all the other movies only ever proved the opposite. Like, yeah he's a better person now, I guess he cares more, BUT THAT HE'D KILL AGAIN? The only way I might've been ready to accept this, would've been if Charles had died. BUT EVEN THEN.

And then he's more mad than ever, doesn't even accept the "old friend", makes fun of Charles speeches, just to have "a change of heart" OVER ONE OF THOSE SPEECHES.

They should've just fought side by side, it would've worked, just as well.

THE ENDING THO?? I wanna thank you all, because noone spoiled me that they fucking live together now???!

This was a lot for my head, holy shit.

[quodekash]

FUUUUUUUUUUUCKing hell theyre gonna kiss today????

hes so grumpy already I love this so much

the silent conversations chain and toey are having with their eyes oml I cant

pls this is so funny

theyre both deeply in love with someone else so it's jsut so unnatural to them

BUT ALSO id like to mention that the first thing chain did when he had to pretend to be hitting on toey was put his arm around his shoulders and rest his hand there. which is what he's literally ALWAYS doing with pun, no matter when it is, he's always standing next to pun with his hand resting on one of his shoulders

its like he associates his time with pun as being in a romantic relationship 👀

THESE FUCKIN BASTARDS 😭

JUST KISS IM BEGGING YOU

theyre lost in their own little world 🥺

kiIIIIIS

this is too funny, the cuts from "chain. chain what happened next." to ✨soulful dramatic guitar music✨

im sad they didnt actually kiss but also im not surprised

LOOK AT THEM, DUDE

THEYRE SO NATURAL WITH EACH OTHER

I FUCKIN LOVE FRIENDS TO LOVERS SO SO MUCH

half convinced theyre already dating, they just cant be bothered saying anything so theyre waiting for others to ask them about it

PUN IS SO CUTE DUDE I ADORE HIM HES FUCKING ADORABLE

I LOVE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH THEYRE SOIMPORTANT TO ME

if I ever have a romantic partner, this is what I want

I cant explain it, I just wanna run up to them with pure joy and excitement, and for them to hold me back by just pushing against my skull

it just seems perfect, idk why

GB4JHERGB

THE FRIENDSHIP OF ALL TIME

genuinely think I might be more invested in their friendship than all the romantic relationships in this show

im fucking CRYING

my king matt, this was so unnecessary and I love everything about it

why does it suit him so well tho

they should kiss again I think

I feel everything about this image on a spiritual level

THIS ENTIRE AMUSEMENT PARK SEQUENCE BRINGS ME SO MUCH JOY AND DOPAMINE IM IN LOVE WITH THSI EPUSODE

NEW COMFORT EPISODE UNLOCKED

look its really funny but I do feel bad cos this day is not even a little bit fun for him

like q is having a complete shit time

poor chain doesn't love amusement parks but he has to go on the rides with toey to keep up the facade cos toey loves these rides 😭

and its even worse realising Q also seems to love amusement parks, so he would be having a fucking amazing time if he could just go on all the rides next to Q cos they both love it so much 😭😭

fuckin FINALLY

LMAO WHAT

THIS IS SO FUCKING FUNNY I JUST SCREECHED WITH LAUGHTER SO LOUD AND ITS MIDNIGHT

THE PURE COMICAL SHOCK AS HE REALISDE WHAT HE SAID, THE EXCITEMENT FROM EVERYONE ELSE AS THEYR EALISE WHAT HE SAID

I mean to be fair it was REALLY obvious

im surprised no one noticed earlier but also its a bl so im not at all surprised to find out theyre all fuckin dumbasses

SERIOUSLY THO TANFANG IS WHAT I WANT IN A RELATIONSHIP HOLY SHIT

a lot of the time watching bls ill be like "I want that" but its usually as a joke

but THIS?? the fucking adhd bastard (me) who just wants to be near their partner and compliment and always stimming and just having a swell fucking time while the other one loves them but is mildly tired but also in adoration? FUCKIN GIMME

also how the fuck has Q not realised, theyre all so fucking obvious

also also I cant explain it it just feels deeply as though pun and chain are for real dating they just havent told anyone yet

ill make a post about it all at some point maybe (I definitely wont)

PHYSICAL TOUCH IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGE 😭😭😭

I LOVE THEM SO MUCH HE DOESNT HAVE TO HOLD HIM SECRETLY ANYMORE THEY CAN JUST WALK HAND IN ARM NATURALLY NOW

hear me out tho, this gets even funnier if he's actually already in a committed relationship that no one knows about yet

I dont think it's secret dating, it's just 'not super obvious dating to try and see JUST how oblivious all our friends are. its been three years at this point and still no one's said anything. we're starting to lose all hope.'

I love tan so much, the little wave

what the FUCK

what the FUCK FUCK???

THE SOUNDWIN LINE????

HERE IT IS ITS FUCKIN COMIN GUYS

HE SAID IT

HE FUCKIN SAID IT

[insert that gif of the crowd of people in the bar going insane]

holy fucking shit dude holy fucking shit

my legs are literally shaking idk if I can do this

FUCK TO THE YES, FUCKING EXPLICIT ASK FOR CONSENT HOLY FUCKING SHIT

WHAT THE FUCK

AND THE FUCKING SONG IN THE BACKGROUND !!!!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT DUDE

im gonna be here all day

I dont even need to watch the rest of the episode now

I can just go to bed if I want and watch the rest later or smth

dude I cant wait for q to realise that toey is milk frappe guy

HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT JUST PROCESSED IN MY MIND THAT THEY KISSED

WHAT THE FUCK

omg making out in a haunted house, what a dream

the workers watching on the security cameras probably had a blast that day

how funny would it be if there'd been a scare actor in the shadows in that room with them and they'd been about to scare them but they were too shocked with that tender kiss to remember they have a job

he needs to lie on his bed and just stare at his roof and think about that for a while

tbh same

look at him 🥺 he's so lost in that memory

thEY FUCKIN MADE OUT HOLY FUCK

welp on that note I think im done for now

I might finish the ep with my silly thoughts+screenshots later but for now tis the time for sleep

[befuddled-calico-whump]

previous

cw: vaguely implied past noncon/abuse, past trauma

×~×~×

Tea was better than nothing. Jericho had been a little doubtful that Vic would have the ingredients for hot chocolate, so it wasn't too shocking to be proven right, but he was at least glad for the bags of plain green tea in the cupboard. Something warm for the kid to hold on to while they worked to process all of this.

"What's your name?" he asked as he passed him the mug. Technically, he already knew, but he didn't want to startle him with that information.

"Ander."

So he wasn't going by just Sahota yet. It made sense. He didn't seem nearly as cold or closed off.

"I'm Jericho," he said, and the kid nodded, staring at the mug in his hands like he was watching the color seep into the water. Jericho exhaled as calm as he could.

Where to start? Should he ask him about the injuries? Drop the bomb on him that he was temporally displaced? Or should he just hold off on that as long as he could? Man, and what about everybody else? All these cats were bound to come racing out of the bag at some point, and he didn't feel in any way ready for it.

Lucky for him, Ander spoke before he felt the need to fill the silence with something unnecessary.

"You work with Shepard?" He seemed almost relaxed at a glance, poised in the chair, cradling the mug. But as Jer looked at him, he could see the tension under the surface. Like he might throw the tea in his face and bolt for the door at any second.

"Yeah, kinda," he said. "Temporarily. Like I said, computers."

"Yeah."

"I take it you work with him too?"

Ander's eyes dropped. "Train," he said simply.

"Ah." Again, he didn't like the way he said it. He wanted to ask more questions, to slowly circle in on some kind of truth and get to the bottom of the mystery that was Sahota.

But before he could, the door to the kitchen swung open.

The rest of the team poured inside, filling the quiet room with whatever discussion they were having. The instant the first of them---Joy---crossed the threshold, Ander flinched back so violently he nearly sent the mug flying. He was on his feet, stumbling backwards, eyes darting around as if searching for somewhere to hide.

Internally, Jericho cursed himself for not bringing up the others sooner. He jumped to his feet, moving to put himself between Ander and the team, but the kid already had his back to the wall.

"It's okay," he called back to him, trying to keep his voice calm. "These are just my---"

"You never said there were more."

A quick glance back showed him the kid had found a knife. Oh boy...

"Ander--"

"Jer? What's---?"

"Who's that? New teammate?"

"Holy shit, is that--?"

The questions came all at once; pretty par for the course, but in the previously-quiet kitchen, with a scared kid behind him, the sound hit like a crashing wave. Then suddenly--

"Stop."

The command wasn't exactly shouted, but it was sharp enough to bring the overlapping voices to a standstill. Jericho glanced at the doorway it had come from, and wasn't surprised to see Sahota standing there. His expression was almost blank, almost unbothered, but there was a look in his eyes, a concerned tilt to his brows.

The others stepped aside, giving Sahota room to enter the kitchen. He could see Joy glancing from him to Ander. It felt like the room was holding its breath as their trainer stopped a few feet away from his younger self, both men staring at each other in disbelief.

Ander's fingers seemed to tighten around the hilt of the knife, his other hand going to his mouth, thumb on scar.

"You... Who are you?"

Sahota exhaled, lifting both hands as if to signal he meant no harm. "Ander..."

"No. This... Whatever this is, I'm fucking over it, okay? Leave me alone."

Sahota didn't retreat. "Those bruises." Something shifted in his voice, the tone becoming softer." "They aren't the worst of it, are they?"

The younger man glanced away, his voice quieting. "No."

"I remember."

Ander's arms dropped, the knife clattering to the ground. His legs seemed to give out, back sliding against the wall until he was sitting, knees tucked against his chest. Sahota followed him down, crouching across from him.

"How long?"

A pause. "Twelve years."

"Twelve... No."

"It's alright. You got stronger."

"I can't... I can't do that. I can't be here---"

"You don't need to. It's done." Sahota's hand fell onto the shoulder of his younger self, gentle. When they were side by side like this, his scars stood out all the sharper.

"He won't ever touch you again. I swear it."

He. Who? Jericho wondered, even though he already knew the answer. It sat souring in his gut.

"How can I help?" he asked, and Sahota stilled at the question, going silent for a moment.

"Clear a path. Make sure... Make sure Vic doesn't see him." He stood, fixing the room with a stony glare. "I mean it. Please."

The others nodded, and he pulled Ander to his feet.

"Davis, I need you to drive him into the city. Find him somewhere safe."

"I can't," the kid protested. "The chip--"

"He watches my frequency, not yours," Sahota assured him. "You'll be fine."

Joy was already leading the rest of the crew ahead to check the hallways, Sahota watching for her signal before scooping Ander into his arms and pressing forward, Jericho tailing behind.

He knew he should be relieved. Sahota knew what to do. He'd keep Ander safe, and the rest of them wouldn't have to worry about what happened to the kid. But what about Sahota? The man was clearly intent on staying back.

He won't ever touch you again.

Jericho grimaced. They both had to get out. To hell with the mission, whatever Vic had done to Sahota... whatever he was probably still doing, it had to stop.

They reached the exit, and Sahota moved to press Ander into his arms. Jericho took a step back.

"No."

"Davis, please."

There was a desperation creeping into his voice, and it hurt to hear, but Jer shook his head. "You need to take him."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Sahota's mouth tightened. He let out a sharp exhale. "Vic. He'd find us."

"Twelve years," Jericho echoed. "That's too long."

"It doesn't matter. One of us can get away."

"Both of you should. Sahota--"

"I'm already ruined," he snapped. Ander squeezed his eyes shut at the words, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

"It's too late for me to leave this behind," he continued I'm a small voice "I'm not who I was. I can't undo what's happened. But I can stop it from happening to someone else."

"You don't have to--"

"Please."

Jericho clenched his jaw, gently pulling Ander into his arms. The kid clung to him, seemingly in a daze.

"Get as far away from here as you can," Sahota ordered him. "I'll cover for you if Vic asks questions."

Jericho could only nod, swallowing down everything he wanted to say, every plea for Sahota to just run. He wasn't going to make him do anything against his will.

Every step towards the truck felt like walking through concrete; all the weight of this new information dragging him down. The only thing that kept Jericho walking was the need to get Ander to safety. Where to, though?

He guessed he'd ask the kid. See if he had family nearby. And when he came back...

Jericho didn't want to hurt anyone.

Those bruises. They aren't the worst of it, are they?

But right now, it was looking like Vic Shepard would have to die.

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

[hanahaki-disease]

Driven by a Holy Force

Hell or High Water - Percy Jackson/DC crossover

Summary:

“Percy took a deep breath. This was it. No going back now. He can’t manipulate the mist to change their minds, he can’t make them forget—this was the real deal.”

This is it!! The reveal!!

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

You: Come to the cave 2:26 am

You: Important meeting 2:26 am

Edge Lord: no 2:29 am

Edge Lord: why 2:29 am

You: it’s important 2:31 am

You: please 2:32 am

Edge Lord: fine 2:35 am

Percy slid his phone back into his pocket, hoping the signal didn’t alert any monsters nearby. He doubts they’d be able to find him though. At the speed they were going, as well as all the unnecessary turns and short cuts Bruce was making, he’d be surprised if any monster in general was able to follow. Hell hounds were fast, and their noses were just as good as a normal dog, but the overwhelming scent of mortal that encompassed Gotham helped hide Percy’s demigod scent well. It was one of the main reasons he didn’t get attacked so much, which he was so thankful for.

He told Bruce that he was going to tell him about his father, but he also was going to tell everyone everything because both his father and his life go hand in hand. Percy can’t tell Bruce about his father without telling him about the war, and he can’t tell him about the war without telling him about the prophecy. And because him and Jason have the same father, then he has to explain why Jason died. Everything had layers, it was all connected in a complicated mess that would be easier to explain all at once with everyone there.

Which means having Jason, Bruce, and Dick in the same room for a minimum of at least thirty minuets while he talks. Gods, he hopes no one starts shit.

“Who were you texting?” Bruce asks. They were on one of the back roads that led to one of the cave entrances, dark forest brush and canopies covering the road. How Bruce can see through it, even with his mega-bright headlights, Percy will never understand.

“Jason,” Percy answered, “If I’m going to talk about my father, Jason should be there too. And, I also asked for everyone else to be there too.”

“Why?” Bruce activated the entrance to open, revealing the tunnel that led to the cave.

He paused for a moment, watching the wall lights of the tunnel flash by before it opened into the cave proper. His domino was still in his hands, the glue that kept it secure was drying a cracking on his face and he wanted to scratch and peel it off. “I wanna tell you guys about some stuff other than my father, and I don’t wanna repeat myself five more times than I have to.”

Bruce nodded his head as he parked, their presence catching the attention of the others waiting for them. Stephanie and Tim had just returned from their own patrols, it seemed. All their gear was still attached to them, and they were still wearing their uniforms as well. Their hair a mess of knots and frizz from the wind, various bruises and scraps littered Tim’s arms and Steph was limping as she hobbled to the dressing rooms to change.

Cassandra and Dick were pouring over a case at the meeting table. There were a couple folders open, the documents inside spread out along one end of the surface while a cardboard box filled with other folders took residence on a nearby chair. Both of them wore comfortable civvies, sweatpants and t-shirts (with a ‘borrowed’ hoodie Cass ‘acquired’ from Percy’s closet,) and their dominoes to hide their identities. Because even though they weren’t scheduled for patrol, they still had to follow the ‘masks while in the cave’ rule. (But Percy and Alfred did not follow it since they didn’t leave the property anyways.)

“Woah, where did you go dressed like that?” Dick had done a double take when they pulled up, catching the other’s attention. They all had various levels of surprise, save for Alfred, at the sight of Percy in an all-black version of Tim’s Robin suit. To them, the idea of Percy being like them was a far-fetched and impossible thought. He had always been adamant about not joining them and preferring to stay in the cave, deciding to being Alfred’s assistant when patching them up.

“Needed some fresh air,” he said, taking one of the seats at the table.

Tim slid into one of the chairs beside him, mask removed and cape-less, and in a hushed voice, he asked “Are you?” Percy nodded. “You sure? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“I have to, Tim,” Percy said. “You know what’s coming and I can’t leave in the dark if something happens.”

“Is Jason…?”

“I asked him to come, and it sounded like he was, but everyone’s here,” Percy sighed, “So, I dunno. I hope he does, I don’t wanna repeat myself more than I have to.”

Tim nodded his head, undoing the bracers on his arms. “Okay, well, if you need me to tap in, I can, alright? Imma go change before you start.”

Percy twirled his pen in his hand as he waited for everyone to get situated. For them to shed the armor they wore and to give Jason a chance to arrive before he began. But Percy knows that his brother would rather stay as far away from Bruce as he could, their estranged relationship already on thin ice for reasons Percy didn’t want to know. He probably should know, but he decided to keep Bruce and his brother’s problems to themselves.

Slowly, the others began to fall in, sitting themselves into their unassigned assigned seats. Bruce at the head of the table with Dick and Cassandra on either side of him. Stephanie sat next to Cass, her leg propped up on the empty chair with an ice pack resting on her ankle. Percy was sitting at the opposite head with Tim next to him on his right, watching as Percy twirled riptide in his hands.

Percy took a deep breath. This was it. No going back now. He can’t manipulate the mist to change their minds, he can’t make them forget—this was the real deal.

The flash of a headlight against the cave wall caught their attention before the roar of the motor hit their ears. It startled the bats above them and Percy swore the ground rumbled as well, but maybe he did that by accident. He’s done that before at camp, in the restrooms and in the big house kitchen.

The group all seemed to tense at Jason’s arrival, his recent switch to anti-heroism instead of drug lord did little to calm the other’s nerves. They were glad that Jason was more amenable to working with them after he and Bruce warred it out for a bit. He lingered at the edges of his part of town and didn’t turn the others away immediately, so that was a step in the right direction. Though his status as a crime lord didn’t really bother Dick, Cass, or Percy. They still waltzed into that side of town like they owned it alongside the second Wayne son.

Jason did not want to be here but will endure for Percy.

Heavy boots marched up to the table and a loud scrape of the chair closest to Percy rang in the cave. It seemed like he, too, had just gotten off of his own patrol. He tossed his helmet on the table, echoing in the silence that had fallen on them when Jason arrived. But Jason didn’t pay any attention to Bruce or Dick, their stares boring hole into his back as Jason made his chair face Percy. “Alright. I’m here, what was so important that I had to abandon my after-patrol tacos?”

Percy sat straighter in his chair. “Okay, okay,” he ran his hand over his face, pushing back his fringe, “Okay, so, you know the stories and legends of the Greek gods, right? The deities the ancient Greeks worshiped to explain natural phenomenon and all that. And…you know how the gods in the stories came down to earth and had kids? Heracles, Achilles, Theseus. Well, the gods are real. They are real and they’re still having kids, they’ve never stopped, not really, and I…”

Percy looked at Jason. At his older brother whose mother was the same as his, whose father sired two powerful children.

“My biological father—Jason and I’s biological father—is Poseidon, god of the sea.” They sat there quiet, uncomfortably so, staring at Percy as if he was spewing nonsense. But Percy could tell that Cass believed him. She could tell by the heaviness on his shoulders as he spoke, the tiredness that rolled off him in small waves. Percy also knows that Jason knows he wasn’t lying, some kind of inherit knowledge and acceptance that he was also the son of a god. “And every summer, with the exception of this past Christmas, I have been going to a camp that is designed for demigods to train and learn how to survive.”

“When I was twelve, I didn’t get kidnapped—” This caught Bruce and Dick’s attention. “I had become a fugitive of the state because I was given a quest to find and retrieve the king of the gods’ missing lightning bolt to prevent a war between him and my father. I left the summer after that because I had to find the Golden fleece to save the magic border that was keeping the camp safe after it had been poisoned.

“Last Christmas, I had to rescue two demigods and find the goddess of the hunt who had gone missing while also putting Atlas back in his prison,” Percy kept going, waiting for their reaction when he finished. “This past summer, the summer that Jason came back, I was on a quest with one of my best friends in the Labyrinth to stop Kronos’s forces and to find the lost god of the wild.”

“Percy, wha—” Dick tried but there was no stopping Percy now that he started.

“And, should I have told you all this years ago? Yes, I probably should have considering how close I’ve gotten to dying in the past three years, but,” that left the room feeling heavier than it should, “Next year—on my sixteenth birthday, there is a prophecy that a child of the eldest gods will be the deciding factor of whether Olympus will survive the war against Kronos. I-…I am the prophecy child, and there is a chance that I might…not survive.”

Percy’s voice was near a whisper towards the end, a little shaky as wobbly as he spoke to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t know why he was acting like this. Percy had come to terms with the fact that he was the child of the prophecy almost a year ago on Olympus when Thalia swore herself to the hunt. He knew that it was up to him, that he would be the one to lead the camp, assemble their meager forces, and train child soldiers against a titan in a year.

He accepted his fate, so why was he close to tears telling his family?

“The fuck to you mean ‘might not survive?’ What do you mean that our father is Poseidon?” Jason was the first to speak, leaning forwards on to the table. “You can’t be serious.”

“You asked me where I had gotten my white streak from, remember? And I told you it was ‘a long story?’” Percy looked at his brother. “I held up the sky for twenty minutes, I kept the sky from falling onto earth and destroying it, and it was the heaviest thing in the entire world. Stephanie once asked where I gotten this scar on my thumb was, I had gotten stung by a scorpion from the pits for Tartarus, whose venom can kill in sixty seconds. This scar on my stomach is from I fought the minotaur on my way to camp for the first time, I have one on my leg from where I got stung by the Chimera. This one if from a pack of hell hounds, this is from some empusai last summer—”

Percy lifted his shirt, exposing the burn scars that ran across his back and his left arm. It was nasty looking, but healed without any lasting damage. Though sometimes in the summer when the days are scorching hot, it felt like his back was on fire once again. Burning from the incomprehensively hot steam that erupted from the volcano. “This is from when St Helens blew up—when I blew up St Helens. If I was lying, Jason,” he looked at his brother a little coldly, offended that he was making this all up when he was marred by the ‘glory’ he had earned. “Then why do I have the scars to prove it.”

“Percy,” Bruce called his name. “What war?”

He sat down in his chair again, “For the past few years, the titan lord Kronos has been rising. He’s growing an army of monsters, minor gods, and other demigods to overthrow Olympus and set everything back to the stone age.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything about this?” Dick asked him. “Why haven’t you told us about this sooner, we could’ve helped.”

“We can’t help,” Tim answered. “Trust me, I’ve tried, but we can’t. We aren’t like Percy or Jason, we can’t see past the mist, we can’t enter camp, were just mortals.”

“You knew! How long have you known?” Stephanie pointed at Tim, who nodded unapologetically, “I’ve known for a year, since Percy came back last Christmas. But I’ve tried everything to see past the mist but I can’t.”

“Mist? What mist?” Cassandra looked to him.

Percy popped open riptide, the bronze sword expanding and folding over itself till it reached it’s full size. He saw Jason’s eyes widen at the sight. Standing in alarm when the Riptides’ point nearly poked him. What the fuck, he mouthed. “The mist is the magical veil that hides and protects the mortals from the mythological mess that is my life. To you, and Tim can confirm, this looks like a bat. A classic, wooden baseball bat—”

“What fuckin’ bat? That’s a goddamn sword!” Jason exclaimed. “Wait, you can’t see it? What the fuck, why can I see it?”

“Because you’re also a son of Poseidon, you’re a demigod like me,” Percy said.

“So why didn’t I go to that camp if I was like you? Why didn’t I train to fight monsters ‘n shit?”

“You weren’t meant to.”

Whatever Jason was feeling stopped, his whole body stopped, as if Percy had just pushed pause on the remote. “What?”

“The fates made it so you didn’t go, it-…your, y’know, was the price father paid.” Percy said, his head resting on his wrist as he said it. Tears once again welling up in his eyes. “Me getting the prophecy was the price father paid for breaking the oath, twice. We aren’t supposed to exist and this is the consequence.”

When Percy looked at Jason again, all the color drained from his face. His words a revelation that shook Jason’s whole worldview to its core. Eyes blown wide, hands in his hair pulling at the roots, as whatever thoughts he was having took over. “Jay,” Someone called but Percy was more worried at the sight of his brother, crumbling apart after realizing not only was his death was intentional but the gods themselves made it happen.

He stumbled backwards, his balance swaying for a second before Jason made eye contact with Percy. And there was a kind of betrayal that Percy could see in his brother’s eyes, the kind that ran hand-in-hand with jealousy. Percy remembers seeing it on the faces of other kids in camp when they learn that Percy has had more contact with their parent than they did, when the gods chose him over their own children.

Jason stumbled his way towards him back, ignoring the concerned calls from Dick and Cassandra. And in a few seconds Jason was speeding away, his helmet still facing Percy on the table.

He wanted to chase after Jason, to tell him everything their father told him this morning. That Poseidon does care for him, that he wanted to step in and save him. But Percy knows that telling him would only make it worse, that telling him that not only does Percy know who they were and who their father was, but that said father preferred Percy over him. That Percy was the child he was willing to speak with (even though that was far from the truth.)

“How do we stop Kronos?” Bruce finally asked, pulling off the cowl, and Percy could see the restrain that kept him rooted to his seat. Bruce wanted to go after Jason too, but he couldn’t, he had to focus on one thing at a time. Batman can multitask and can do many things all at once. But he wasn’t Batman right now. His words might’ve been the bat’s, but the unmasked, worried and pained look he held was his dad’s. It that of a father worried about sending his son, potentially sons head first into a war. One he didn’t even know existed till it might’ve been too late.

“If I knew how, I would tell you, but you guys can’t be a part of this.” Percy tore his eyes away from Jason’s retreating form. “I have already explained this to Tim, but this is a war you can’t fight. The monsters that are a part of that army, as well as the weapons and places they reside, are hidden from mortal minds.”

“So what, we just sit on the sidelines while you go and become a martyr? I’m not letting you do that, Percy,” Dick said.

“You can’t—help—Dick, none of you can, point blank. That’s final.” Percy spoke with a finality of a general. “I’m not telling you guys this to make you feel helpless or to give me pity or any dumb bullshit like that, I’m telling you so that if something happens next year, you won’t be caught off guard. So that if the news around New York is all fucked up, or if aunt Diana disappears for a bit, you’ll know why.”

“Diana knows?” Stephanie asked.

“She’s a daughter of Zeus, technically my cousin,” Percy says. “But the point is: I didn’t want to hide this from you guys anymore. I wanted to keep you guys out of this for as long as I could because monsters follow me everywhere, I’m not safe anywhere but camp, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you guys got hurt because of something from my world.”

“We can defend ourselves, we’re not helpless,” Cassandra protested.

“I know that, but you don’t—you can’t even comprehend all that I’m going up against.” He capped Riptide and in a blink it was back into a pen. “Just, please, trust me. I know what I’m doing and I don’t want you guys in anymore of a risk than you already are, but—” Percy looked at Bruce. “If I need help, be that mortal evac or medics for the wounded or even for collateral clean up, would you come?”

“Of course,” Dick answered for Bruce who seemed to be staring a hole into the table in front of him.

Alfred (where had he been this whole time?) cleared his throat and handed Stephanie a pair of crutches, who grumbled and groaned as she stood up from the chair. “I believe that is all we’ll be able to handle for today as it is getting late, even for you all. Now, all of you, upstairs, time to rest and we’ll further discuss this in the morning.”

One by one they left the cave, Tim hesitant to leave Percy’s side, especially after revealing everything, but Alfred’s pointed stare from the elevators made his feet move of their own accord. By the time the commotion died down again, only Percy and Bruce were left at the table. They faced each other, but neither’s gaze meet the other and neither of them spoke for a bit. He had hands clasped together and help up to his mouth. He did that when he was deep in thought, when he was trying to plan a head to keep them all safe.

Percy knows about the contingencies he was in place for the Justice League and all its members. Knows how to take them down and has access to the lead vault that held their collection of kryptonite for when Superman decided to try and become God. There were even plans on how to take each member of their family down, what steps that needed to be followed and who to get to help. And Percy knows he wasn’t special, he wasn’t excluded from those plans either, but he knows that they were made with the mental image of a regular human Percy. Of the kid who didn’t have powers and only bat-level training.

Now he was a threat, or, an even bigger one than before. Percy had the blood of a god running through his veins and that meant that he was far stronger that most of his family. He could blow up a mountain, summon hurricanes, move the earth. Percy could lift the cave water and manipulate it to his will whenever he wanted. He was a threat level Bruce had never encountered before and now…now he was scared to know how far he’d go to subdue Percy.

He glanced up when Bruce stood from his chair. It was hard to decipher what it was Bruce was thinking, the furrowed eyebrows and hardened stare was that same one he wore all the time. And while Percy was pretty good in understanding the man’s various looks and grunts, he didn’t know how to react when Bruce sat down in the chair Jason had once been in.

“I won’t lie,” Bruce said. “I do not like you leading a war, nor do I like that you kept a threat like this a secret for this long.” Percy deflated under his words. “And I understand that this was not your choice and you have to do whatever you need to do to stop them, but I need to know why it chose you of all the other demigods? Were there no one else this could have been given to?”

Percy shook his head. “At the same time a prophecy was given, the big three swore an oath on the Styx to not have any more kids. Mostly because of how powerful they were, it was why World War 2 happened after all.” He fidgeted with his fingers. “But Zeus and Poseidon didn’t keep to their promise, and because the Styx can’t punish gods, their kids took the penalty.”

Bruce had an arm resting on the table, his hand covering his mouth as he absorbed the information. “Jason was the first, and the oath influenced the events that took his life. Thalia was after him, a daughter of Zeus, and she died right before she entered the camp to save one of my friends and my enemy, but we didn’t know that he’d betray us all at the time.”

“So then by default, you were tasked with the prophecy?” Percy nodded.

“There are two other children of the big three,” He said. “Both children of Hades, but the older of the two died on a quest last Christmas and the other is barely eleven. I don’t want this to fall on him, he’s too little and he’s already been through so much.”

“I can’t lose you, son” Bruce stood and pulled Percy up to stand before him. “I’ve already lost your brother and I am grateful he was able to make it back home, despite all the hiccups that happened to get him here.”

He hadn’t noticed how tall he was in comparison to Bruce now, his dad always seemed to tower over him like used to when he was a kid, but there wasn’t much of a difference between them. A few inches separated them from seeing eye to eye and Percy didn’t want the day to come where they were the same height to come. He still wanted to be able to bury his face into his dad’s chest when he hugged him, he be able to be picked up and carried like a child, to be told that everything was going to be okay.

And while now, Percy could rest his chin on Bruce’s shoulders when they hugged, the arms around him were still warm and strong like they always had been. “Just…be careful,” Bruce held him tight.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise that.”

“I know,” he said, brushing down the hairs at the back of his head. “Of all people, I know.”

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

I had to write this, like, twice because the first draft didn’t fit right in the flow of the story anymore.

The only qualm I have with this is Percy’s rant about his injuries, idk it both does and doesn’t feel like something he would do. Like he’d do it to prove that what he’s gone through exists but he hates talking about himself 🤷‍♀️

Hope you liked it!!!

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