#nothing else about him changes its just this

[frehyun]

Backstage Fun

idol!hyunjin x afab!reader

warnings: protected sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, power imbalance (fan and their idol), hair pulling, nipple play, denied orgasm

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 2.5k

author's note: freya get to the point challenge failed, i feel like this is a whole lot of build up and not a lot of payoff but I still like how it turned out! second time writing smut and it's still really difficult, my respect goes out to all the regular smut writers, y'all are something else ❤️‍🩹 please let me know what you think!

this was requested by @kiki1323 and i took the creative liberty and added Redjin into the mix because. well. look at him. working on my first request was fun, so i hope i did it justice and hope you like it! <3

masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

You are nervous. Extremely nervous. The kind of nervous where it feels like your heart is going to break through your ribs and jump right out of your chest, the poor organ hammering against its confines, the hard thumping echoing throughout your entire body, lump building inside your throat.

Never in your life would you have expected that a simple, exciting attendance at a concert would end up with you getting invited backstage by one of the artists that you adored to the moon and back.

A security guard came up to you after the concert hall had been cleared of most people, yourself still sitting there and coming down from the after-concert-adrenaline, asking if you were the ‘special guest’ invited by none other than Hwang Hyunjin himself. At first you were confused, ready to deny any mistaken identity and willing to laugh it off but then you saw the idol peeking his head out through one of the side entrances, giving you hand signals that you vaguely recognised as ‘play along, please’.

So you did.

Because if the Hyunjin said you were his special guest, then you were his special guest and nothing could stop you from playing along. Even if the part of him inviting you prior to the concert was a lie.

And that’s how you ended up here, in a backstage room that you assume must be his dressing room or something like that. It doesn’t really matter.

You nervously bite at the skin of your lips, no sight of Hyunjin so far making you even more anxious as you look around the room, desperate to find anything to occupy your mind with as you wait for him.

There wasn’t anything special about this room, just a large vanity, a table with refreshments and snacks on it and a ridiculously plushy couch that you were currently situated on, surrounded by strewn about clothes, bags and you assume some personal items that belonged to Hyunjin.

Before you could grow tired of counting how many little stones decorated the vanity across from you, the doorknob to the room turned, making your head snap towards the door.

There he was, wearing a fresh black shirt and some sweatpants, having changed out of his sweaty concert clothes, a sheepish smile on his face as he apologises politely for making you wait and closing the door behind him.

Your heart lurches right to your throat at the sight of him. He was even more gorgeous from up close, even the harsh overhead lighting couldn’t destroy the features that you were always so mesmerised by.

“I hope I didn’t make you wait too long.”

God, and his voice makes you want to kneel right down and do whatever he asked of you no questions asked.

Focus.

“Ah, no, it’s fine!”, you stammered, “what, uhm, what did I do to deserve being here?”

A mischievous smile spreads over his lips as his long legs bring him closer to you on the couch, stopping right in front of you to tower over you. He licks his lips and you think he is doing it on purpose.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, so I hope you’ll do the same with me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you during the concert”, he begins, reaching a hand out before stopping a short distance away from touching your cheek, searching your eyes for your approval or any sign of discomfort. You swallow around the lump in your throat and nod, making his eyes soften as he moves to caress your jaw, his thumb stroking across your skin gently.

“And I know this is sudden, you can say no and leave whenever you want to, but I’d love for you to stay and we could have some fun.”

Before you can stop it, your eyes flicker down to the front of his sweats at the implication before flickering back up to his face. Hyunjin’s eyes have a knowing glint in them, as if he already knows that your answer was going to be a loud and resounding ‘yes’.

“I’ll stay” – you say, surprised at how steady your voice sounds.

He smiles down at you, taking your face properly between his two large hands. His cock twitches in his pants as you look up at him, the sight of you beneath him satisfying some deeper part of him.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

Hyunjin leans down to take your lips between his softly. Unsure what to do with your hands, you place them on his forearms, wanting nothing more than to just touch him anywhere you could reach. It’s still surreal to you that this was really happening, that it’s Hyunjin’s tongue making its way into your mouth, that it’s Hyunjin you taste.

He parts from you momentarily to sit down beside you on the plush couch, patting his muscular thighs as a sign for you to straddle him. There was no way you were going to refuse such a demand, so you climb on top of him and make yourself comfortable in his lap, your hands holding you steady on his broad shoulders as he grabs the back of your thighs greedily.

Not being able to hold yourself back anymore, you grab his face and capture his lips hungrily. Hyunjin seems to appreciate that, his hands sliding up your thighs to grab at your ass and his hips lifting up to grind into you, his clothed cock dragging deliciously against your core, drawing whimpers from the two of you simultaneously.

With your brain already turned into a fuzzy mess, you mindlessly keep moving your hips across his hardening length, desperate for any kind of friction against your pussy. He groans against your lips, his hand finding its way underneath your shirt and squeezing breast.

“Hyunjin…” – you moan and slide your hands across his chest, grazing his nipples and making him let out a whimper.

He rids himself of his shirt before moving to slide yours off your body, hastily discarding it alongside your bra.

In a sudden movement, he moves you to lay down on the couch while he kneels above you, his hands already fiddling with the zipper of your pants as he rids you of the offending garment as well.

“Beautiful” – he breathes and his fingers lightly press into the fabric of your already dampened panties, lazily stroking up and down, much to your chagrin, whining and bucking your hips into his hand.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” – his red hair was slightly falling over his face, framing it, as he sits back on his haunches to observe you. The outline of his dick straining against his sweats isn’t lost on you and you have half a mind to reach out to take him into your hand.

“Want you…”

He chuckles and hooks his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties to pull them down your legs. His long digits find your folds immediately, spreading your wetness around, his fingertips playing with your sensitive clit as you grow wetter for him, small wanton moans spilling from your lips for him.

Desperate to please him, your fingers wrap around his dick through his sweats, squeezing the head slightly.

He huffs out a breath at your touch. Hyunjin originally planned to drag this out as long as he could, wanting to blow off some steam but he grows increasingly more needy the longer you writhe underneath him so sweetly.

Some of his desperation seeps through to his actions, as he pushes two of his fingers into you, fucking them in and out of you at a rough pace.

“Are you gonna be all mine for today? Hm?” - Hyunjin says, his free hand spreading your legs further so he can slot his body between them while working his other hand at your core, bringing you closer to your high.

“Yes! All yours, Hyunjin!”

He smiles at your admission, withdrawing his fingers from your pussy right before the knot in your stomach snaps. You whine pathetically at being denied, your hips chasing his hand in a desperate attempt to get him back where you want him most.

“Sit up” – he orders and rids himself of his sweats and boxers, his cock slapping heavily against his belly. He pumps himself a few times as you oblige his demands. He doesn’t even need to ask any further for you to lean down and wrap your lips around his cock, sucking at the head eagerly. He moans loudly at the feeling, taking your hair into his hand in a makeshift ponytail as you take him deeper into your mouth.

You moan around him when he hits the back of your throat, your tongue moving at the underside of him.

“You’re taking me so well, princess. I can’t wait to be inside you and show you a good time” – his praise goes straight to your core and you moan around his length.

Hyunjin’s hips meet your every move in tandem before he curses and pulls you hastily off of him. You cannot help but think Hyunjin looks absolutely divine with that ravenous and fucked out look on his face. Something inside you twists when you think about how after tonight, you’ll probably never experience something like this again.

If Hyunjin notices you momentarily wincing at the less than fun thoughts invading your head, he doesn’t acknowledge it.

He pushes his sweaty hair back, your eyes lingering on how the motion makes the muscles of his arm stand out. You can’t help but notice that most of his sweat seems to be tinted red by his hair and it makes him seem even more irresistible, your fingers itching to test out if they would come back stained red if you card them through his hair.

Seemingly getting some of his sense back, he reaches to grab a condom from one of the bags laying about and you can’t help but wonder whether he planned on getting laid tonight. It wouldn’t surprise you. You’re here after all.

After making a show of ripping the package open with his teeth that made you dramatically roll your eyes at him and earning a chuckle from him, he rolls it on and crawls between your legs.

“Ready for the real show, sweetheart?”

You nod your head at him and hook your legs around his hips, wiggling closer to him. As he leans over you, his cock presses against your wet cunt.

Hyunjin’s patience to be inside you has worn thin, so he slides himself in in one fluid motion of his hips, making you gasp and dig your nails into his shoulders.

“You feel so good, angel. So wet, just for me” – he moans as his eyes flutter shut at the feeling of you around him. His cock drags deliciously against your walls as he starts fucking you in earnest, setting a fast pace, eager to get you two off.

“Mhm, just for you, Hyunjin!”

You pull him down to you to capture his lips in a passionate, wet kiss, holding his face in place and roughly tangling your hand into his hair, pulling at the strands as he pounds into you from above, groaning at the soft pain on his scalp. You try to burn how he tastes, how he sounds and how his skin feels beneath your skin into your mind so you’ll never forget this moment.

His thrusts become desperate ruts as he nears his high, his lips finding your neck in sloppy, wet kisses and bites.

“Y/N”, he wimpers into your ear, one hand entwining his fingers with yours, “I need you to come for me.” His unoccupied hand finds your clit, rubbing at it hastily.

You let go and your orgasm finds you quickly at his words, your body arching into his, legs clamping up around him, as he fucks you through it, chasing his own release as your walls clench around him.

“Fuck!” – his hips stutter as he spills his seed into the condom, squeezing his eyes shut and riding out his high.

When his thighs stop shaking against yours, you bring your hand up to gently move some of his hair out of his face, tucking the strand behind his ear. Your hand stays cradled against his jaw as he peers down at you, a slight smile on his lips.

You don’t remember if he was this flushed before but he certainly is now and it’s kind of endearing.

He slips out of you to get rid of the condom, making you whimper at the loss. You don’t really know what to do, if he wants you to get up and leave immediately or if he would rather you stay, so you stay frozen in your decision and don’t move an inch from where he left you.

In your rising nervousness, you start picking at your hands again and stop momentarily to amusedly realise that your hands are indeed slightly stained red from pulling at his hair. Something about it calms your heart again.

He comes back dressed in his boxers, phone and some wipes in hand. It’s a bit awkward when he cleans you up, you’re embarassed and try to look anywhere that isn’t him.

“No need to feel embarassed about this, angel. I really enjoyed my time with you” – Hyunjin says softly, caressing your cheek softly and turning your face towards him. He’s smiling at you, that cute stingray smile where his eyes disappear and you suddenly want to cry with all these emotions swirling around in your chest.

“I did, too”, you murmur, “uhm, can you pass me some of my clothes? I’ll get dressed and then I can get out of your hair. You must be exhausted after the concert and… all of this.”

He tilts his head at you but complies, helping you dress. He doesn’t pass you your jeans.

“Stay” – he says quietly as he pulls your shirt over your head, straightening it out, it’s long enough to at least cover your panties.

“What?”

“Stay. Let’s cuddle”, he smiles shyly, “I could use some more aftercare than whatever this was.”

“I-… Okay.”

He huffs a laugh as he climbs over you onto the couch, leaning back against the cushions and pulling you into his chest.

“Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna come barging in, I made sure of that. Besides, we can shower later” – he explains and his hand runs over your spine soothingly as you lay your head on his chest to listen to his steady heartbeat.

“I’d also like for this to not be the only time we see each other, if you’re okay with that. We can exchange numbers. I know we kind of have it all backwards, starting off like this and you being a fan and all but I’d like to get to know you properly, no weird power imbalance between us, just two people meeting up for a date.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, the heat rushing back to your face as you became redder at his words.

“I’d like that” – you happily answer him and he lets out a relieved sigh.

The two of you talk about idle things before Hyunjin drifts off to sleep first, leaving you awake in his warm embrace.

Listening to his soft breathing, you think to yourself that accepting Hyunjin’s proposal was one of the better decisions you’ve made lately and sigh contently, letting tiredness wash over your limbs and slumber take you, hoping that this was the beginning of something more than a short encounter.

[morallygreychaoticneutral]

Astarion prefers monogamy.

Again, simply my cup of thought tea steeped from my game experience. Its not everyone's drink. No shame, no blame, it's your game. Warning for triggers and spoilers.

*added note due to misunderstandings.

Please notice I said "prefers monogamy" not "is monogamous". He may be up for added partners later on down the line. But definitely not any time before the epilogue in my world.

So, why do I think he prefers monogamy?

Take..

"Iv never had anyone. Not really. Nothing that compares to you."

And mix that with...

"I had nothing for so very long. NOTHING! Not even my own body!"

And add..

"You're you. Nobody is like that."

Plus countless other comments and actions and you get a bowl full of elf who just wants something for himself only for a change.

Centuries of being forced to give up or share everything. His possessions, his person, his own thoughts. Nothing to claim as own that no one else could take or touch at any moment. I'm sure if anything was given to him, he had to fight to keep it.

I think, he would be a bit possessive of anything he could claim as his own.

You are a gift to him. Something rare and special beyond words. I highly doubt he would be willing to share anything you are sharing with him outside of friendship. I could even see him getting fussy about strangers touching you. Moving you away or putting himself physically between you and whomever just touched you without asking.

Hells, even ascended Astarion isn't 100% game to share.

"As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself...there is much to be done."

But, what about Halsin? He says he's fine with it.

Is he? Or is he people pleasing?

If he had said something along the lines of,

"Oh? He wants to share does he? Of course he does. I'm not up for such activities just yet, but you are free to have as much Halsin as you wish. "

I would have gone on that bear hunt, but he doesn't.

He askes you if you are wanting to sleep with Halsin because he has not been able to meet your sexual needs. And I interpreted that as he's vulnerable and worried he's being replaced for not putting out.

Imagine you had asked your lover to not to look to you for sex for reasons you are working out. They agree and you are just relieved as hell about it.

"You were patient. You cared."

Then they come along later down the line and say they are thinking about having sex with a friend. Where would your mind go?

I would bet hard gold he weighed the options in his head. "If I don't let them do this, they might leave me for good. But if I allow it, they wont have an immediate reason to leave. Halsin is the safest option given his experience."

And what's the best way to feel less awful about a situation we cant control? Create a counter situation where we gaslight ourselves into thinking its fine.

Wheeee!

I'm not saying Halsin's offer was bad, it was perfectly fine, it was just poorly placed in the grand scheme of things. If you and Astarion were having fun again before he suggested being an extra, then it would have been easier to believe he was really fine with it.

If they wanted Astarion to be a poly partner they needed to write it better. Shadowheart makes more sense as pro poly than he does.

So for me, Astarion is a one on one elf.

I am not against polyamory. I am not trying to take representation away. I am not shaming anybody for their choices. There is just not enough specific content to support it fully FOR ME. I was actually excited at the idea of having two partners in my fantasy world. Halsin was very clear and very specific about being on board. Astarion was not. And the choice did not feel right. Add a line somewhere for Astarion where he says "Im perfectly fine with sharing, darling. As long as it is discussed and we are in agreement of course." I will happily be on board with it.

[mc-lukanette]

"I'm the least-witch witch ever," Marinette groaned, burying her head in her arms on the table. A book titled History of Witch Fashion, thick but shockingly lacking in substance, laid open in front of her, turned all the way to the last page.

She understood it to some degree. Witches of the past had little need to change the way they looked due to their circumstances, as they tended to live far out in the woods where no one would see them anyway. It was a "waste" to worry about updating their look, and wearing all black tended to make camouflaging spells go more smoothly if they needed to go anywhere potentially dangerous at night.

Even in the modern day, there remained reasons to stick to tradition, such as to ensure that people knew what they were. Anyone who looked like a "genuine witch" was someone people could trust for potions or spells once magic became more socially acceptable.

But Marinette's problem was simple: she hated it. She couldn't pull off the all black look and found the generic pointy witch hats to, quite bluntly, look like traffic cones that just came back from a funeral.

"I don't even have a black cat!" she cried out in distress.

"Mrrah?"

She pushed herself up, turning to the white short-haired cat sitting nearby. "It's not your fault, Clawton! You're perfect just the way you are!"

The cat puffed out its chest with pride, a tiny gentlecat without a tuxedo.

Marinette smiled, feeling a little cheered up by it, but faltered when she looked at the book again. Centuries of witch fashion laid before her, yet there were only tiny, insignificant changes made over time. Even seasonal changes recommended temperature-related spells to show off instead of dressing for the weather like a normal person.

"It's fine!" she told herself, hitting the table with both hands. A surge of magic caused the book to float upwards, and Marinette ordered it into the garbage, deciding, "I'll just... have to take the witch fashion world by storm, all by myself!"

Clawton let out a concerned mew, but didn't protest.

—————

Step one of Marinette's lack of a plan was finding inspiration, and there were few better ways of doing that than walking around the town and taking in the sights. Clawton walked next to her, tiny pawsteps sounding beside her own footsteps as she scribbled anything that gave even remotely "witch-y" vibes. It was like making a mood board.

Nothing solid was forming in her head thus far, but it was better than nothing. While it wasn't likely to happen, she did hope for that special spark, that magical thing that'd make her go—

"Mrreow!"

Marinette stopped, surprised to hear her cat speak up when it was usually so quiet in public. Looking down, she called out worriedly, "Clawton?"

It didn't even glance at her, taking off like a shot down the street. She gasped, shocked but reacting quickly enough to chase after it.

"Hey, come back! Where are you going?"

She only hoped that her mood as of late hadn't been affecting it. Cats were sensitive to magical and emotional fluctuations in witches, making them solid pets but ones that could also take on or share a witch's stress if they chose to.

If that did end up being the case, she probably owed it a few treats.

Clawton turned on a dime to dart around a corner, Marinette not far behind. She heard someone yelp and fall over just as she turned that same corner, though slightly clumsier than her cat had been.

Sitting on the ground was a teenage boy, probably around her age, though she focused on little else when she saw Clawton purring in his lap. Horrified, she hurried to the two, plucking her cat from him and settling it in her arms.

She rambled off, "I'm so sorry! It's not usually like that, but now it knocked you over and—did it rip your clothes?! I swear I'll sew them up—I'll make it better even, I—!"

"They didn't scratch me."

Marinette paused mid-sentence, somehow managing to hear his soft voice over her panicking, and blinked at him. Taking in what she had assumed were "cat scratches," she realized that they were actually purposeful rips in the clothes. Even the knees of his pants had similar ones when she actually looked, and they more obviously weren't caused by a cat.

As the boy stood back up, entirely calm despite what had happened, Clawton hopped down from her arms to do figure eights around his legs. Marinette was still busy taking in his fashion, eyes scanning him up and down to fully capture it.

His pants and shoes were notably black, but not too much even with his black hair. He kept it interesting with the white and shades of blue he wore on his upper body, in addition to the blue highlights in his hair that were either natural or dyed. The rips she'd mistaken for cat scratches did still give off the same energy in a way, and if they were in another place, then maybe—

Marinette's eyes widened. Without another thought, she stepped forward, taking the boy's hands and clasping them together in her own. Looking him right in the eyes, she asked spontaneously, "Will you be my muse?!"

He blinked.

—————

The embarrassment took a few seconds to strike, after which came a slew of apologies and a promise to make up for the onslaught from both her and her cat. He insisted it was fine, but she insisted right back.

They eventually ended up sitting on a bench together at a public flower garden, complete with iced tea that Marinette had bought for them. Apparently, the boy often went there himself for his own inspiration - just as a musician rather than a fashion designer - so he smelled strongly of flowers that her cat adored, which explained why it had jumped him.

While Clawton rolled around and stretched amongst some thyme, the boy took a sip of his iced tea and wondered aloud, "So, changing witch fashion all on your own, huh?"

She whined, wishing she could hide behind her own cup. "I know. It sounds insane."

"No, I like the sound of that." He turned to her with a gentle smile. "I'm Luka, by the way."

She shot him a skeptical look. "Marinette. Are we exchanging names because you want a restraining order?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're fine. Honestly, I want to help you if I can."

"Really?" She paused. "Clawton didn't hit your head, did he? I know I said when we were getting drinks that you'd get benefits if this took off, but..."

He leaned back against the bench and swung an arm over the top of it, shrugging with the arm holding his cup. "I think if anyone can do it, it's you. You have incredible energy, Marinette." He grinned. "Enough to ask a stranger to be your muse."

He somehow felt positive enough about the experience to joke about it. Marinette knew then that either she had overreacted, she had struck diamond in finding this boy, or both. Either way, giving him up would be the most foolish thing she could do.

It helped that he, now that she was truly looking at him and not just his clothes, was exactly her type. He dressed in a style that was clearly his own and carried himself as such, confident and comfortable in the clothes he wore without coming off arrogant. Better yet was that he still had cat fur on his pants from when Clawton had rubbed itself on him, yet he seemed totally unbothered.

Gods and goddesses above, he was perfect.

Of course, if he was going to be her muse for such an important task, then it would have to be strictly professional, so she tried not to think about it too hard. She'd been told before that she could be a bit much, so she would have to be all business about this.

"Can I add a condition?" Luka asked suddenly.

"Huh? Yeah—er, yes." She tried to say it formally, straightening her back in perfect posture even if the colorful cup of iced tea kind of ruined it. "What is it?"

The corner of his lips twitched into a brief smirk at the action, but he carried on, "Can you be my muse too?"

"Ah?" Her shoulders slumped, already ruining the poise she'd been trying to maintain. "Me? You mean Clawton?"

"You," he insisted. "I like your cat too, but I think you're interesting, Marinette. If we're going to get to know each other, shouldn't we do it the best way creative people like us do?"

The logic was hard to argue with, especially with the slew of emotions he'd just caused her: bafflement that he'd want her of all people as a muse, shyness at the look he'd given her when he'd said it, and all of that preceding sheer joy.

"S-so you'll really do it then?" she realized, bouncing up out of her seat and facing him. "You'll be my muse?!"

He nodded, reaching a hand up to her for a handshake. "We've got a deal."

"Yes! I could just kiss you!" she blurted out. A second later, she caught herself and quickly corrected, "Ah, not really—not now—unless you—ah, thanks!"

She put her own hand out to complete the handshake, the two positively beaming, and thus began the relationship between the two teenage business partners that just happened to be each other's muse.

[cl-0v3r]

Mel is alive, but at what cost

Mel was nearly killed TWICE, her mother began being a struggle, she'd been thrown aside and trying her best to stop her, her boyfriend is not doing well, neither is anyone else (can't blame them) and the fact that she hadn't cried or spoke much about this situation to anyone a single time?? She IS upset about every single thing, yet she stays strong and enduring every bit of torture. The most she did was tell Jayce that Ambessa put her palm on the table, and let him know that she is going to push for hextech. That's it, nothing remotely related to her feelings.

The fact that she was constantly looking at Caitlyn, being able to understand her grief and knew she was in pain?? Mel knows this feeling. She'd went through it.

And in the end SHE has to pay the price of her mothers incompetence.

The intro is very much foreshadowing, we know the hands represent black rose/LeBlanc.

This is what happens in act one, she gets kidnapped by them. The lyrics do correspond to the characters as well (not just Mel, everyone.)

"Tell you you're the greatest" plays as a petal of the black rose floats down the screen, I think it adds significance to the power this organization holds, possibly the Medardas greatest foe.

"But once you turn, they hate us" both Ambessa and Mel were present in this line, I think its foreshadowing for when Ambessa switches up for whatever reason and goes against both Piltover AND Zaun. And Mel WILL go through change as well, a change that could hurt her relationship with others, and receive interest from others too.

"They hate us" could be read individually too, I feel like its a sort of "realization" ?? Perhaps Ambessa WASN'T the one that switched up, maybe Piltover switched up on them, and maybe Mel JUST got out of wherever she's taken to, and saw the mess Ambessa had done to her city??

I think this represents ACT TWO.

The hands pull away and it sort of looks like Mel is fighting back, a "get away from me" type of scream. you know what this reminds me of??

Don't mind me just pushing my Jinx/powder-Mel parallel agenda

Here is when i think Mel truly learns about LeBlanc/BR, she curiously and slowly goes to grab the rose, she learns about the history between her Mother and them, Kinos death, and most of all, learns about HERSELF. The lyrics speak otherwise.

"Pray away, I swear

I'll never be a saint, no way"

This feels like a parallel to caitlyn of sorts if that makes sense. Caitlyn had done everything to try and stop the council from attacking the Undercity, she kept her mouth shut when Jayce asked about Jinxs grenade, she was willing to protect Vi and the undercity, but how many times has she been tossed around? She'd been burned, exploded, kidnapped (god knows what happened during that time) and hit in the face by the same person, her MOTHER died because of the same person. She has every right to go insane. And she is hunting ONE person, which is Jinx. Although she is harming the people around her along the way.

What if Mel goes through a similar situation? Her mother pushed for war in her city, she dragged the enemy along with her even if she didn't mean to, she manipulated everyone around her INCLUDING Jayce, she LITERALLY got Mel hurt from the chembarons attack and killed so many people during a MEMORIAL to get her hextech weapons, Elora is most likely DEAD, not to mention whatever happened in the past between them. And the thing is, this will NEVER end throughout the entire season.

And what if she learns what she is? That she's 'blessed' by Kindred? The fact that the wolf is quite literally in her blood?

I feel like the "ill never be a saint, no way" also sort of indicates Mel will realize she'll never be able to push for peace and mercy like she always hoped for no matter what, and she comes to accept that as much as it hurts. But not like how ambessa accepted the wolf, but she sort of realizes she needs to push a little violence, towards nobody but the one and only, Ambessa "fine, if you want me to be like you, I guess I'll be like you towards YOU." Type of acceptance.

I think its also related to Mels new outfit too, she's dressed like her mother, in red and all of that. I will still stand by the idea that she has plans to decieve, but she will do something she doesn't want to do.

Mel was left with no choice, that lyric sounds like realization, acceptance, but also like a plea at the same time, an "I'll never be who I wanted to be" because in the end, she's still a Medarda, she's still her mothers daughter, she still has violence in her veins, she will never not suffer from the weight her name holds, and she will never escape it either, its like a shadow.

The Characters won't be themselves at their core this season. And those vital parts of their characters that represent them are no longer there in the intro, they all have given up what makes them, THEM design wise. (e.g.) Vi without her tattoo, Viktor hiding his identity with the mask. And the thing is, they did that to themselves because they do self-harm, they're changing themselves because THEY want to, they're forcing themselves to do that, they think they're undeserving and they're erasing their past selves.

But Mel? Mel doesn't have her gold accessories, Jewelry, or her Armor, she'd been stripped bare and hidden away because of the brutality of her name. She pays the price her mother brought to HER city. She's forced to change herself against her will, because nobody is giving her a chance to push for her ideals.

This entire theory never ends, and with all of this? I kinda do see Mel actually committing Matricide, it lifts the "Ambessa will die" theory further.

[featherandferns]

teaser for my upcoming fic: sugar

feel free to ask me questions about it!!! we're all in mourning so here's some fluff non-canon season 4 jj x reader

content warnings: dr*g use; mentions of s*xual themes

“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”

You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”

Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”

“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise. 

“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers. 

Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply. 

“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”

You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour. 

“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”

“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”

“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”

“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning. 

“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”

“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”

“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort. 

“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”

“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means. 

“You want me to show you?”

“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat. 

JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next. 

JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–

[spxdyr]

okay look. ill never say 9-1-1 has perfect writing. hell, i might not even say they have particularly good writing. but the one thing the show is, is intentional.

i saw a post talking about all the plot holes in season 8 so far, and to be honest none of them were really holes.

1. where did the bees go? this feels like a silly question mostly because the show literally explained that they were moving with the wind or smth. like the plane emergency was only barely triggered by the bees.

2. what happened to the madney/henren conflict over mara? i saw what they were seeing but hen & chim are grown ass adults who realized the goal was to get mara home. the conflict never needed to happen because madney is having a second baby.

3. why is eddies years & years of repression solved with one conversation? it wasnt. he's still repressed the only thing that changed about eddie in 8x06 was him trying to stop punishing himself for the mistake he made with chris. nothing else has changed. idk what they were seeing with that one.

4. why has denny dying had no longlasting impact on henren? two things with that one. one, this was a buck & eddie focused episode. we got no furthering for storyline for anyone else, that's just how network tv works. two, when has 9-1-1 really ever given us longlasting impact. the closest we got was buck's leg crushing (which technically, at this point, has seen no further repercussions-not even a limp) and the shooting, which was more the emotional repercussions than any physical. lets not jump to conclusions based on an episode that didn't focus on henren at all.

5. and the most important, the bucktommy breakup. if i have to keep beating this goddamned horse about this fuckin breakup im gonna lose it. the breakup was written in the script from the beginning. from the: leaving buck on the side of the road, the dismissiveness around buck and his lil curse. and its not even the dismissiveness, because eddie was also in disbelief about the curse. its about the "your five minutes of screen time is up evan" and the comments about having a team that acts as family when tommy never had that. it was even the distance between at the funeral scene. because if we look back at the other funeral in season 7, eddie was right there next to buck because it wasn't just a buck moment. buck needs that support.

that's it for now

[sabrondabrainrot]

It's tinfoil hat times I have more observations for eagle eyes listeners (yes a Nightvale ref)

This will contain spoilers for recent TSAMS and LAES!

I gotta go to bed so I won't be able to contain everything but just some stuff I noticed recently and something I've been thinking about.

I won't be as organized as usual, warning spoilers below!

Picking apart what Dark Sun said and did...he used the word expunge. I don't know if this is problem of VA's picking a word that sounds cool...or they picked it know what it means? Expunge is a word that means 'to remove', 'delete', 'strike from the record'. So...why would he collect data on Sun's choice to kill Nexus and expunge that across the multiverse? Why would deleting that make Suns turn on Moons? I'm too tired to think about it past this but...it's interesting. What if D!Sun did delete something?

The biggest thing between Sun and choosing to kill...its his love and trust...but I wonder how Sun's decision to choose the greater good and his family would delete something? That sparkle nighttime Sun was beating his Moon while crying that he hated him...but did he actually? How can we know? I can't wait to find out more about the entire Sun on Moon violence. D!Sun said it was his hate for Nexus but that's not the case...because Sun himself stated he still can't get himself to hate Nexus. We also know, the only reason Sun's magic worked was because of what Ruin did...so I think my theory about the NSP and SP interacting to possibly make Nexus into a new being still stands. D!Sun knew Ruin planted that device when he made Sun choose.

I feel like history just keeps repeating itself where Sun's choices will never be choices and his decision will always be made for him. Moving into more stuff! The recent episodes omigod!!! Moon! He finally stepped up! I still have many things to point out though. I was talking in @goodolddumbbanana dms because like...we're both still disappointed by the episodes...(I won't type the entire dms cause like I want banana to do their piece too without me speaking over them)

When Moon talked to Sun at the pier, he still managed to make it about himself. Did anyone else notice that? He turned it into his normal "I hate myself" routine. He proceeded to let Sun know he's the best brother ever...but Sun just...I don't think he believes it. Even if Lunar and Earth also both tell him that. Even Solar. He just won't believe it.

Looking at how Sun's entire...existence has gone, it's pretty understandable why he'd think and feel this way.

He hasn't been shown by his family (except Earth) he's the best so why would he believe it? Especially coming from Moon who's done nothing but lie to him and break promises. Moon stepped up but...was acting annoyed to take care of Sun. He just was acting like he was ready to get stuff over with. Then...When Sun finally asked the million dollar question. "Did you hate me? Do you hate me?" He's always been asking that and never got a straight answer. Moon has always acted like he really did hate him in the past. Worst of all? Moon told Sun he did.

He told his emotionally beaten brother who's soul is shattered, that 'Yes Sun, I did hate you'...Moon...being honest in this particular situation...I don't think it's the best idea.

Moon, to an emotionally unstable - highly fragile - Sun, basically confirmed Sun's darkest fear. The soul deep ache Sun feels. It's not...gratifying...Sun may now have closure that 'wow he treated me like that because he did hate me' but the big issues with this? Moon has not really changed how he treats Sun. He stopped physically hurting him but he still hurts him. In small ways. We saw that first hand in the last few eps. He left to avoid Sun entirely. He broke promise after promise. He'd rather throw himself a pity party then buck up and just be there for Sun.

Sun always leads with the best intentions. He tells Moon he loves him. He encourages him. He builds him up. (I think i've said this before lol)

Then we get the MVP Earth ep. That episode was honest to God beautiful. Earth is an amazing sister and Kat knocked it out of the ball park with her vocal performance today. She put in so much emotion. I like how Earth's breaking point wasn't her taking care of Dazzle or Sun. Her breaking point was how her family was treating her and Sun like shit. They both left them to their own devices. It was so sad. I was wondering when they kept showing Solar who was taking care of Sun and honestly it makes so much sense it was Earth.

Then in the same episode she said Lunar is acting strange. I'm going to be honest, I know exactly why Lunar is acting mad at Earth.

I don't get a ton of opportunity to talk about Lunar. In the recent episodes his sorest spot was prodded by Taurus. Taurus is basically telling him to get over himself.

Which...I don't agree with how Gemini and Taurus are going about it. Letting go of your hate and hurt is so important but them just telling Lunar to do it isn't going to work. He needs to be taught how to.

So why is Lunar mad at Earth? Never forget, Lunar hasn't developed much he's still a very selfish immature person. He's mad at Earth he's stagnating. He's blaming her for his stunted emotional growth. He chose to numb himself to deal with his emotions and if he admits that was wrong then it'd be a long time of wasted efforts. He would have so many regrets if he admits he's been doing everything wrong.

After all, If Lunar wasn't so apathetic about N!Moon would he have made a difference in him becoming Nexus? (No, but Lunar could be thinking about that)

Lunar, I believe, is blaming Earth for not 'fixing' him. He doesn't understand he needs to want to change himself for it to happen. (it's the same thing for Moon, he knows he's flawed but has given up on improving) I think Lunar just kind of assumed Earth was supposed to automatically make him better with him not doing any work himself.

Then the crux of why he's mad at Earth.

It's simple.

She's friends with Eclipse.

That's really what it is.

Think about it, he hates Eclipse. Eclipse is now in the front of his mind to the point he's acting odd and watching Nutella ads for hours. He's trying to mute his rage. What Taurus and Gemini said would anger anyone.

Telling a victim to not only get over their abuse but also get along with their abuser? It's plain wrong. Lunar has the right to hate Eclipse, the only problem is that it is harming him. Hatred will always be someone's undoing. It is a negative, putrid thing that only destroys.

He's been shoving his emotions down for so long they're bound to explode. I know Lunar loves Sun and wants to be there for him but he's been apathetic for so long now he can't. So he's lashing out and projecting his own self anger onto Earth. She's right there after all.

Solar is basically acting like a keeper to everyone and despite doing better for Sun, Solar is still emotionally distant. Moon physically isn't there. Lunar won't lash out at Monty. He won't take his frustration out on kids like Dazzle and Jack.

Earth is also just...too nice. So yeah, I absolutely understand why Lunar is angry at Earth. He's being totally unfair and immature about it too, because it's not like there's other problems, ie Sun is literally broken and can't leave bed.

but I digress, I like that Moon is stepping up. I just hope he doesn't keep dropping the ball. I think Sun right now truly doesn't think Moon cares...Moon is going to have to do a lot to show him otherwise. I'm glad Lunar finally checked on Sun and I hope he does it more often, because Sun loves Lunar too. He loves the entire family. Earth was right to cry about how they were failing Sun.

I'm really proud of Earth and Solar for stepping up to help Sun.

[kinardpride]

Something feels wrong...

Okay, so I haven't used Tumblr in years but the recent episode of 9-1-1 really made me want to get something off my chest. The whole situation doesn't make any sense.

We've seen Tommy being nothing but open and caring for Buck, continually showing up for him and more importantly ALWAYS checking up on him. Tommy was the one who didn't want to start a relationship if Buck wasn't ready for it, he has done nothing to suggest the desire for a long-term relationship has changed. We have also seen Oliver talk about Buck's bisexuality with so much care that his recent comments about just wanting Buck to sleep around just feel like they've come out of left field. This was a relationship that was a HUGE deal for the show, they made a HUGE deal about it only to randomly drop it?

So was there something wrong with Lou?

Lou seems to be as blindsided as everyone else, unless they just desperately wanted to get rid of Lou for some reason... if that's the case why feature him so heavily in the Halloween episode that was filmed after this one?

Was this relationship negatively impacting the show somehow?

Well it doesn't seem like it, the show was getting more attention and new viewers specifically because of the relationship.

If we ignore the exit interview and the interview with Oliver, this just looks like a major hurdle in their relationship, something that hints to more with Tommy, something that would probably be explored. It's just such an unexpected departure from how the character has been behaving that they could have come up with a better reason if they just wanted him gone in neat and tidy way.

And like I said before, if it was so important that they needed Lou to be gone why keep him around to film the Halloween episode? Why feature him so prominently? Why have Tim say it was Tommy's love that broke the curse?

To but it bluntly: The math just isn't mathing.

I've seen everyone from casual fans, to buddie stans and even the general audience walk away from this episode totally confused.

You could say I'm just trying to cope with this by trying to spin up some kind of conspiracy theory, but it just feels like the behaviour from the show and even actors doesn't make any logical sense if this is truly the end of it. Especially for a character and actor that Tim seems to be really fond of.

The last thing I will say is that I think its important that the show brought up Glee and how the world was different for gay men, it's true and I feel like it might come into play if see Buck and Tommy attempt a reunion. If I was in a relationship with someone who looked as scared as Tommy did, I would want to know more and I would hope Buck does too.

[theweepingangelofcas]

Too Much - William Moriarty x Reader

Summary: You're overstimulated. It's all too much. But don't worry, William will be happy to help. Hey guys! I'm trying my best to get back into writing on here, so please forgive me if its a slow start.

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

You felt like you were going to cry.

Everything was just too much. Your job, your peers, your life. It felt as though with each breath, your world was crashing down on you a little more.

You didn't want to tell your husband, William. His own life had been so chaotic recently, you knew he didn't need more added onto his plate. Just the other day, you could have sworn you saw tears falling from his eyes as you held him after a long day. He didn't need to worry about you too.

Of course, you couldn't hide it for long. He knew you too well. One tiny slip up, and all your emotions came bursting forth.

It felt so stupid.

You had hit your knee on the bedframe as you were changing into your nightgown. Normally, you would've just winced and continued on with your day. But this night, with everything else that had been weighing on you, all you could do was feel yourself shatter like a thin pane of glass.

It was like every thought you had was hateful, beating on the outside of your brain to be let in. Worthless. Useless. Stupid. Ugly. All of it was overwhelming you until you found yourself, sobbing a puddle as you laid on the floor. Your head was in your hands, your knees drawn closely to your chest. You felt like you were just a small, stupid child.

You don't know how loudly you were sobbing, or even if it was dead quiet, but William found you soon after anyways. It was as though he could feel your anguish through the walls.

Running in through the bedroom door, he fell to his knees next to you, frantic to see if you were alright. You felt him gently turn you onto your back, felt his gaze searching for potential wounds. When he saw none, he gently laid himself next to you.

"Y/n? My love? Are you alright?"

The words came out much too distressed, "No, William. My head hurts. I'm so dumb. Why are you with me? I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be anywhere. I don't deserve any bit of this life. I'm so flawed and you don't seem to see it!"

Your lips just kept moving, spewing a torrent of everything that had been on your mind. Your coworker's laziness, the man who harassed you while you were buying groceries, the feeling of being not enough. You just couldn't stop it. It was like a dam in your mind was broken, and nothing could help it close again.

That was, until, you felt his hand gently guiding your head to look at him.

"Shh. I know. I know. But I promise you, dear, none of those things are true. You truly are a beautiful, lovely, amazing individual. You don't deserve to feel this way."

You watched as he stood up, turning to the bed and fluffing the pillow near the headrest. Then, he stooped down, scooping you into his warm arms.

Tears were still flowing freely by the time he tucked you into the covers, and he wiped them away with his finger.

"Y/n? I'm going to draw you a bath. I will be right back, I promise."

You reached out for his hand, still sniffling, but she shushed you gently, "Right back. Cross my heart."

You nodded, turning to bury your face in the plush pillow beneath your head.

True to his word, he was gone for less than 5 minutes. You could hear the water running in the adjacent bathroom, and lavender scented suds could be seen dancing above the tub.

"A bubble bath?"

He nodded, "It's much more fun that way, isn't it? I even added some of those magnesium salts you love so much."

He held out his hand, and you took it. Guiding you out of bed, he led you to the bathroom, "I'll leave while you get undressed. Please call for me once you're in the tub."

You nodded, watching as he left. The door shut, and you shed your nightgown quickly, not wanting time to see the body you were so ashamed of.

Sinking into the water did feel like heaven, though. It was perfectly warmed. Hot, but not too hot. Enough to relax your tense muscles. The bubbles rested close to your chin, and you could smell the lavender tonic he used to make them.

You hummed, and he peeked his head back in.

Even though you were thoroughly covered by bubbles, you still instinctively placed your hands over your chest to hide yourself, and he shut his eyes immediately.

"So sorry, my love. I swear I'll keep my eyes closed."

You blinked away the last few tears you had, "I'm the one that's sorry, Will. You were probably having such a nice evening before I ruined it."

You felt his hands go to your shoulders, gently massaging the knots away, "Nonsense. I'm having a lovely evening with you, right now."

Deep breath in, deep breath out, you allowed the scents in the air to calm your nerves. You felt a gently kiss to the back of your head, his hands not stopping their ministrations.

Perhaps, just maybe, you didn't hate yourself that much after all.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 7

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Fina in that green dress - she is beautiful. Damn. She also is Isidro’s daughter through and through, she too seem to have that way of getting people to open up, getting them to accept her advice and comfort. She is soft and reassuring as Claudia spills her mistakes with Tasio. And Fina’s hug looks so nice. I’m pretty sure this is what “everyone needs a bosom for a pillow” means and I agree, they do. To get lost in her embrace looks like it could solve a great many personal problems and maybe a few societal ones too. I don’t know if it’s the solution to climate change, but if 2025’s Nobel prize winners tell me it is - well I won’t be surprised. I also like that she one hundred percent share my exact opinion of Tasio, he is trash, unredeemable trash and should be avoided like the plague.

Aww, Fina arguing her case that a marriage doesn’t equal happiness and that her father shouldn’t be so quick to wish one upon her. The old man really just wants her to be happy, you can tell though that it’s a conversation that makes her ill at ease because of the way she has to stretch and stitch the truth in her replies. I already know it’s going to hurt a lot when he later on rejects her.

Marta confronting Elena - I know that it won’t officially happen for another hundred plus episodes, but Marta is the boss. The way she just slides into that armchair and takes hold of the entire office with what seems like nothing more than an innate sense of authority and a raised eyebrow - yeah, she exudes in charge. But I enjoy the little exhale at the end as Elena leaves. Like so much of who Marta is at this point this too is a game face. Maybe she carries it with what looks like ease, but it might actually come at a fairly high price, just not one we’re allowed to see yet.

Petra, I’m telling you - back off the Marta insults, or - If I remove myself from the narrative though, I love this. I love how they try to build Marta up as this stick in the mud, firm, cold and distant. Unsmiling, no sense of empathy, all business and with very little sympathy. If I hadn’t know what was to come maybe I’d buy it, maybe I’d laugh along with Petra as she mocks and says that Marta needs to smile more. Because yeah, all we’ve seen of her so far actually fits that vision of the demanding ice queen, except for these brief micro-expressions on Marta’s face when no one is looking, when she doesn’t have time to catch her true reaction. When Damian brings up marriage and children, when Elena turns her back, when Fina confronts her and tells her she demands a lot of respect. For a second you see something else, but only for a second, before it is hidden behind the wall again. So yeah, if I had watched this for the first time I would probably have thought of Marta as a bit of a bitch to approach with extreme caution.

That said, back to the narrative, fuck Petra. Fina is a fucking cinnamon roll and I ache so hard for her as this woman clearly leads her on, only to slam the door in her face and call her disgusting as wine and a win makes Fina bold enough to go for a kiss. And invertida is never a slur I’ve had to personally experience, but the way it is delivered and the way it lands makes it feel like I share its burden too. It’s a slap in the face and I wish I could reach through the computer screen and return it, with interest.

Marta’s relationship with her dad, ugh. She talks to him about being happy with being more involved in the company, getting a shot at running the business alongside her brothers. And what does Damian do? He turns the table on her and brings the conversation back to her marriage, talking about how it isn’t what he wanted for her. Granted it’s nice of him to want more than the isolation her current marriage gives her, but it’s also another dagger in Marta’s side, isn’t it? Whatever she does, or achieves, with her dad it always boils back down into her marriage, her role as a wife and the failure of it all. That shit really has to feel like someone ripping out the feathers of her wings every time she tries to take flight. It’s a nice parallel though of both Isidro and Damian wishing happiness and partnership for their daughters. I’m looking forward to when this will come full circle in 170 episodes and they discuss how their daughters have found just that, in each other.

[noxlysium]

Why Jean is so important to me

Welcome to my insane ramblings, enjoy your stay (or don't). Most of this is also very self-indulgent, by the way. Warning: Mentions of abuse, alcoholism, mental illness, self-destructive thoughts I'd also like to remind you that this isn't me justifying Jean's behavior in any way, he's a fucking asshole and doesn't know how to handle Harry, or himself. They're both flawed individuals and that's okay. This is just me talking about my own experiences. Now that we got that out of the way, let's get to the actual thing.

I'm not even sure where to start. When I first found out Jean had clinical depression, I immediately felt a connection. It's relatable. Very relatable, in fact. I myself have been depressed for years. It all started at a young age, I was about 13, but due to trauma it could be very much earlier than that. I don't remember much from my childhood because most of it are bad memories. I'm 21 now and still going through a lot of shit, so it's been about 8 years. Jean strikes me as a guy who has been fucked over his entire life, no matter where he goes or what he does. It always comes back to him. After I have finished DE for the first time and looked more into the lore of Jean and Harry, I started to notice the similarities between the relationship with him and Harry, and the relationship with me and my own parents.

I know what alcohol does to people, I've seen it all. And it's not great for either parties. I'm stuck in a repetitive cycle of wanting to help someone to get better, only to realize that they don't want to get better and then I start building hope again. Rinse and repeat. I know I cannot change them. But I keep hoping for a change anyway, and get upset when it never comes. Of course it doesn't. No matter what I've tried. I have tried so many times. I'm a fucking hypocrite because I sometimes drink as well. I don't want to become like them. I drink for fun every once in a while and try to not over-do it, because every time I touch alcohol, something in the back of my mind tells me I'm becoming like my father. I thought about smoking a few times, but I don't want to destroy myself like my mother does. I'm really fucking scared of smoking and its consequences. Which is funny, because I should be as scared when it comes to alcohol, but I'm not. They both drink every day at 3 pm, after work. Every single day.

And it has been like this for years. Nothing has ever changed. A few months ago I had an actual discussion with my parents. We usually never have these sort of conversations (That's the issue, by the way. A very big lack of communication. Does that ring any bells?) and I was actually surprised when they told me they wanted to lay off the alcohol. I tried to approach the topic carefully and even offered them help (therapy etc.) but.. they also didn't want that. They straight up told me they don't need help. Which is really fucking frustrating because I want them to understand that they do, but they don't care.

I know change is really fucking hard and I've been there, but my parents had so many opportunities to change and never took them. Nothing has changed for so many years and I'm tired of it. I'm waiting for a change to happen but I know it's never coming anyway. I'm tired, mad, disappointed. That's how Jean feels about Harry, he just doesn't know how to help him and is an ass about it. And I'm just letting it happen, because there's nothing else I can do. I'm watching them destroy themselves every day and it fucking hurts. Something in me still feels a tiny flame of hope, when in reality that flame is already extinguished. I want people to understand, my father really fucking reminds me of Harry. The emotional abusive, the physical abuse, the alcoholism, the sexist remarks.. It just screams Harry. Especially given with how he had been around people Pre-Martinaise, which I have read in the game inside the damaged ledger. The fact that I love Harry to a certain degree says a lot of things.

The marriage between my parents is like if Dora never left Harry, and it's fucking awful.

-

That is mostly why I can relate to Jean so much. There's also some smaller things and I'll get to those now.

He fucking sucks at feelings. You can see it with the way he's trying to handle Harry, and it's not working.. Which, yeah. I suck at those too.

He likes to hide his sadness underneath a layer of cynicism and sarcasm as a coping method.. I do this all the fucking time.

Let's face it, this man is a fucking nervous wreck. He picks at his facial hair and displays a lot more habits like that, like him fixing his clothes (even though they look clean, according to one of the skills in the game), running his hand through his hair.. I do this without even realizing it.

He's depressed and fucking empty on the inside. He most likely hasn't felt real love from anyone or for himself in years. He needs therapy (lots of it), anti-depressants and a hug.. And I know what that feels like. I know it too well.

Lastly, he's a fucking mess. Like in every single way imaginable.. Again, very relatable.

Jean is such an amazing character for me to project on, to relate to and to find comfort in. I'm glad they made him fucked up, because that's what I love about him. He has so many flaws and I love every single one of them. He's in the game for like 15 minutes or less, but the impact he's had on me is insane. I've had a fair share of characters I would obsess over, but Jean hits different.

I'm so glad Jean-Heron Vicquemare exists, because I wouldn't know where I would be if I never met him. I want to thank my lovely friend (who is not on here, but I'm still saying it because I care about him a lot) for gifting me this amazing game.

And I want to thank you for reading this mess of a post.

If you have made it this far, I want to show you one last thing.

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

the detective & the dark knight | chapter 11

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal murders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!main character

Author’s note: Brace yourselves for a long one! This chapter is a pure emotion (sorry if you're not into that!) Bruce and Marie fight, make up, and finally get together. I hope you all enjoy a big sigh of relief at the end of the chapter. It’s a bit of a whirlwind, but the best kind of whirlwind.

Apologies for the wait! Life got in the way, but we’re back at it.

Word count: 9k

Warnings/tags: mentions of gun violence, police bribes, fighting, murder

Chapter List

The warm glow of the setting sun filtered through the tall windows of Wayne Manor, casting long shadows across the room as Bruce stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cufflinks on his tailored suit. The faint sound of classical music played in the background, a soft and calming contrast to the storm of thoughts running through his mind.

Alfred, ever-present and always meticulous, stood a few feet away, inspecting the final touches of Bruce's attire. He took a moment to adjust Bruce's bowtie, before he stepped back and gave a nod of approval.

"You look dashing, as always, Master Wayne," Alfred remarked with a hint of pride in his voice. "A yacht party, is it? Quite the venue for a police fundraiser."

Bruce exhaled softly, his gaze distant as he continued adjusting his cufflinks, though he didn’t seem particularly focused on them. "You know it’s not really about the fundraiser."

Alfred tilted his head, studying Bruce for a moment. "Ah. I see. Miss Manning, I presume?"

Bruce didn’t answer right away, but the faintest smile played on his lips as he glanced at his reflection. "She'll be there. At least, I hope she will. I invited the entire department."

Alfred let out a thoughtful hum, crossing his arms as he moved to stand next to Bruce. "You’ve been in better spirits lately, if I may say so. Wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you've been working with her again, would it?"

Bruce paused, catching Alfred's gaze in the mirror. He shrugged, trying to play it off, though he knew it was no use—Alfred could see straight through him. "Maybe," he murmured, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "We work well together."

Alfred’s expression softened, but his voice carried its usual weight of wisdom. "Teamwork is one thing, but you've been rather preoccupied with her in other ways, haven't you? I daresay, Master Wayne, you're a bit happier these days."

Bruce chuckled under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "We’re not together anymore, Alfred. She’s a coworker." The words felt wrong coming out of Bruce’s mouth.

Alfred studied him for a moment longer before speaking. "You know, there are worse fates than working with someone you care about, even if things aren’t as they once were. Perhaps it's not the end of the story yet."

Bruce looked down, his fingers tracing the edges of his cufflink absentmindedly. "Maybe not. But I don’t want to pressure her into anything. She’s been through a lot, and so have I. If working together is all we can manage right now... I’ll take it."

Alfred stepped back, straightening the lapel of Bruce's jacket before placing his hands behind his back. "Well, if nothing else, Master Wayne, it’s shaping up to be a lovely evening. I trust you’ll make the most of it."

Bruce gave a nod, but his thoughts were already elsewhere. His mind drifted to the image of Marie—her fierce determination, her humor, and the way she always challenged him.

It was more than just admiration; he cared about her deeply, and despite the distance between them now, he couldn’t help but hold on to the hope that maybe tonight could be different.

With a deep breath, Bruce adjusted his jacket one final time, turning toward the door. "I guess we’ll see what happens."

Alfred gave him a reassuring smile as he followed behind. "Indeed, sir. Shall I ready the car?"

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. Let’s get this party started."

—-------------------------------

The soft evening breeze off Gotham Harbor brushed against Marie’s skin as she stepped onto the grand yacht, her heels clicking lightly on the polished deck.

The scent of saltwater and expensive cologne mingled with the faint notes of the orchestra playing in the background, reminding her how far removed this was from the rough streets of Gotham.

The twilight sky was a mix of soft pinks and purples, reflecting off the calm waters, but it was the lights of the yacht that stole the attention. Music played faintly from the upper deck, where Gotham’s elite mingled and sipped champagne.

Marie tugged at the fabric of her deep navy blue gown, smoothing out a wrinkle as she walked alongside Commissioner Gordon. The dress hugged her figure perfectly, flowing elegantly around her legs as she moved. The halter neckline left her shoulders bare, with her long dark curls cascading down her back in soft waves.

“You clean up nice, Manning,” Gordon teased lightly, giving her a sidelong glance.

Marie chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t get used to it. The next time you see me, I’ll be in a Kevlar vest and jeans.”

Gordon grinned, adjusting his tie as they approached the entrance. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they entered the party, greeting a few familiar faces from the department and city officials, Marie’s eyes shifted toward the front of the yacht, where Bruce stood, speaking with a small group of guests.

Even from a distance, Bruce exuded his usual charm—tall, impeccably dressed in a black tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, and a faint smile playing on his lips as he politely engaged in conversation with several people at once, all mesmerized by his charm.

“Notice you haven’t mentioned Bruce much lately,” Gordon remarked casually, keeping his voice low as they approached the party. “How are you guys doing?”

Marie glanced at Gordon, her lips curling into a slight smile. “We’re… taking things extra slow,” she replied, her tone light but with a hint of something more beneath it. “If you can even call it that.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry. “Ah. I see.”

She gave a small shrug, her eyes lingering on Bruce for a moment before looking back at Gordon. “Honestly, we’re not really together anymore.”

Gordon nodded thoughtfully, his hands slipping into his pockets as they continued walking. “I won’t push. But I’ve always liked him. He’s always been supportive of the department—this is what, the second fundraiser he’s thrown for the GCPD in the last few months?”

Gordon’s gaze softened, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “He’s got a good heart, despite what people say about him just being a playboy. And it doesn’t hurt that he has… well, resources.” He paused, sweeping his hand toward the grandeur of the yacht—its gleaming decks, the dazzling lights casting reflections on the water.

He went on, "I don’t think I’ve ever said more than a few words to the guy before, you know."

Marie smirked to herself. You’ve definitely said more than a few words to him.

Her thoughts trailed back to how deeply Bruce was connected to the GCPD, not just as himself but as Batman. She wondered if Gordon ever suspected, but that was a conversation for another day.

The atmosphere was vibrant, laughter and the clinking of glasses echoing in the night air. Servers weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres. The yacht, with its glittering lights, felt like a world apart from the gritty reality she was used to.

Marie scanned the party, taking in the sights of Gotham’s elite, but her mind wandered back to Bruce. It felt strange, being here like this—so close, yet still keeping a distance.

Gordon, sensing her momentary distraction, gave her a soft nudge. “Come on, let’s make the rounds before you slip off to wherever you plan to disappear to.”

Marie smiled, following Gordon into the crowd, but her eyes couldn’t help but drift back to Bruce, who had already noticed her arrival.

Bruce excused himself from the group he was speaking to as soon as he saw Marie and Gordon approaching.

His eyes found Marie, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background. She looked stunning—breathtaking, even. The deep navy gown hugged her figure perfectly, the soft waves of her hair catching the light just right.

For someone who was always so focused and no-nonsense, there was something about seeing her like this, outside of the chaos of their usual world, that stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, a subtle, warm smile tugging at his lips as he walked toward her, every other distraction fading into insignificance.

“Commissioner Gordon, Marie,” Bruce greeted with a nod, his voice smooth but a touch warmer than the usual Wayne charm he used at events like these.

“Mr. Wayne,” Gordon responded with a polite nod. His formalities were a front, as always, but Bruce could see the familiar warmth in his eyes.

Bruce's eyes locked onto Marie, and for a moment, he forgot to speak. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out, his gaze tracing the way the lights caught in her hair and the warmth in her eyes. She noticed, her lips curving into a soft smile, breaking the silence for him.

"Hey, Bruce," she said, her voice warm but a bit guarded, though she didn’t pull her gaze from his. "Quite the event you’ve put together."

Bruce gave a slight shrug, his smile deepening as his eyes remained on her. “Had to keep things interesting. I was really hoping to see you here.”

Before Marie could respond, a woman from the crowd—a socialite Bruce barely recognized—swept in with bubbly enthusiasm. “Detective Manning! Oh, it’s been forever. You look lovely. Come, you must meet the newest member from the city’s cultural council.”

Marie glanced at Bruce, her smile tightening slightly. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

With that, she was whisked away, leaving Bruce watching her disappear into the crowd.

—-------------------------------

The lights of the yacht cast shimmering reflections across the dark sea, laughter and clinking glasses mingling with the soft lap of waves. Bruce leaned against the railing to take a brief respite between mingling, his gaze shifting between the guests around him, though his attention briefly wandered elsewhere.

With a practiced motion, he slipped his hand into his jacket, fingers brushing over the slim device hidden within. It was a compact, high-frequency scanner he always kept on him, subtly tuned to the city's emergency channels.

Tonight might be a rare moment away from Gotham’s shadows, but he knew better than to drop his guard completely. The scanner offered a quiet reassurance—a link to the undercurrents of the city, alerting him to any crime that might demand his presence. This was part of who he was now, a constant awareness of the other life he led.

Satisfied by the silence on the scanner, he allowed himself a slow exhale, just as Gordon approached with a whiskey in each hand. Bruce slipped his hand out of his pocket, straightening, trying to ease into the rare luxury of a normal evening—at least for a moment.

"Some event you put on, Bruce," Gordon started, handing Bruce a whiskey, "And I’ve got to say, I’m pretty damn impressed that you threw this entire yacht party just to impress Manning."

Bruce shot him a sidelong glance, half a smirk pulling at his lips. "That obvious?"

Gordon chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on, Bruce. This is the second GCPD event you’ve hosted this year. Either you’re gunning for Gotham’s Philanthropist of the Decade, or you’ve got your eye on one of my detectives. And between you and me, I don’t think it’s the philanthropy.”

Bruce shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It’s not just for her."

"Sure," Gordon replied, raising an eyebrow. "It’s for the other 200 guests you barely know."

Bruce sighed, his smirk fading. He wasn’t about to deny it. Marie was the reason he was here, the reason he’d gone through all the trouble. "She’s important."

Gordon gave a little shrug, his mouth quirking up as if he couldn't argue even if he tried. “Can’t say you're wrong there,” he replied, glancing around the deck with a hint of amusement. 

Moments passed in comfortable silence, the sound of the waves lapping against the yacht blending with the music and mingling guests.

Gordon’s eyes narrowed as he watched Marie across the party. “Listen, Bruce, I see her like a daughter. She’s tough as nails, but she’s been through hell. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

Bruce met Gordon’s intense gaze. “We aren’t dating anymore, Commissioner. Marie made it clear.”

Gordon leaned in slightly, his voice low and firm. “I get that, but let’s not kid ourselves. I can see it in both your eyes. There’s still something there, and you know it.”

Bruce swallowed hard, the weight of Gordon’s words pressing on him. After a moment, he admitted, “I love her.” The air was thick with honesty.

Gordon studied Bruce for a moment, then sighed, crossing his arms. “Look, when you find someone like Marie, you don’t let that go. Not for anything.”

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but Gordon cut him off, his voice low but firm. “We always make it harder than it needs to be. You think this stuff just falls into place? Hell no. You’ve got to put in the work. You care about her, right?”

“Yeah, of course I do,” Bruce said, frustration edging into his voice.

Gordon’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Then show her. You don’t get many shots at something like this, kid. Don’t screw it up.”

Bruce nodded, the weight of Gordon’s words hitting him. He knew he was right.

Gordon leaned in slightly, voice dropping. “Fight for her. She’s worth it.”

Without another word, Bruce pushed off from the railing and moved through the crowd, weaving between guests and waitstaff. As he neared, he caught sight of Marie, her face lighting up the moment their eyes met. She excused herself from the group she’d been chatting with and walked toward him.

“Bruce,” she greeted with that warm, playful tone he loved. “Looks like you survived Gordon’s pep talk.”

He smirked, leaning closer. “Just barely.”

Marie chuckled, the sound sending a rush of warmth through him. “I have to say, this party is a lot more fun than I expected.”

“Yeah, well…” Bruce began, his heart thudding in his chest. He knew he needed to say more—everything he’d just talked about with Gordon—but as she looked at him, the words got stuck in his throat. Her smile was warm and genuine, the creases by her eyes deepening with the sincerity of it. It was the kind of smile that made him forget everything else for a moment.

He chickened out. “Uh, did you try the fried shrimp cocktail yet?” he asked as a poor attempt to pivot. “I had them use Panko breadcrumbs because I know they’re your favorite.”

Marie burst out laughing, eyes twinkling. “Oh, I’ve already stashed a handful in my purse for later.”

Bruce’s face lit up, but before he could respond, a blonde socialite in a slinky red dress sidled up beside him, her gaze laser-focused on him, “Well, if it isn’t Bruce Wayne!” she purred, sidling up to him with a flirtatious smile. “You still haven’t gotten back to me about that dinner invitation I sent.”

Bruce turned, forcing a polite smile. “Hey, Tiffany. Sorry about that. Work has been... busy lately.”

“Busy?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow playfully. “You must be the busiest billionaire in Gotham. I was starting to think you were avoiding me.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. “No, not at all. Just juggling a lot right now. You know how it is.”

Tiffany stepped closer, a teasing glint in her eye. “Well, I’d hate to think I’m not a priority. How about we make up for lost time and grab dinner this week?”

Bruce shifted his weight slightly, caught between courtesy and discomfort. “That sounds nice, but I really can’t commit to anything right now. I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“In that case, would you do me the honor of a dance?” She responded. 

Bruce tensed, stealing a glance at Marie, who raised an eyebrow, amused at watching Bruce squirm.

Tiffany turned to Marie, her smile sugary sweet but laced with sharpness. “I hope you don’t mind, darling. It’s just one dance, after all. You two aren’t… together, right?”

Marie casually placed her hand on her hip, her expression calm and nonchalant as the socialite practically draped herself over Bruce, eager for a dance. “We’re not,” Marie said coolly, her tone dismissive. “You two go ahead. Have fun.”

Bruce shot her a quick glance, his eyes pleading for rescue—an unmistakable look that only she could interpret as help me.

But Marie, enjoying the moment far too much, simply smiled, raising her eyebrows as if to say you’re on your own.

With Marie’s calm demeanor offering no way out, Bruce forced a polite smile, suppressing a groan. “Alright,” he sighed, offering his hand to the socialite. “Just one.”

Marie bit her lip, barely stifling a laugh as the woman eagerly pulled Bruce toward the dance floor, leaving him to navigate the awkward situation on his own.

As he led her to the dance floor, Bruce felt a mix of obligation and disappointment swirling in his chest.

As they began to dance, he tried to engage in small talk with Tiffany, but his mind kept drifting back to Marie. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, and a pang of regret hit him as he noticed the slight furrow of her brow.

The music swelled, and he moved through the dance with practiced ease, but it felt hollow. With every spin and turn, he wanted to be with Marie, to share this moment with her. But the socialite kept chatting, her laughter ringing in his ears as he forced himself to nod along, all the while stealing glances back at Marie.

Marie stood there, watching them dance. At first, a small smirk tugged at her lips, amused by the sight of Bruce being his usual charming, polished self. It was almost funny watching him try to navigate Tiffany’s relentless flirtation. Any girl would be lucky to dance with Bruce Wayne—Gotham’s most eligible bachelor, tall, handsome, and effortlessly charismatic.

But as the dance went on, her amusement faded, replaced by a dull ache she hadn’t expected. The way Tiffany’s hand rested on his shoulder, the easy smile Bruce wore, even though Marie knew he was just being polite—it all stirred something deeper within her. A part of her hated seeing him like that, so close to another woman, even if it was just a casual dance.

They were work partners again, and she really did enjoy that. Working with Batman was exhilarating, and their dynamic had always been strong, even when things were... complicated. But if she was being honest, it wasn’t the case-solving or the late-night stakeouts that made her heart race. It was being around Bruce. Just Bruce.

Watching him hold Tiffany, even in something as simple as a formal waltz, brought back memories of how he used to hold her. There was an intimacy to it, one that she missed more than she’d let herself admit.

Without another thought, she turned sharply, slipping away into the crowd, needing space from the sight that unsettled her more than she cared to acknowledge.

When the song finally ended, he turned to look for her, only to find that she had vanished. The tightness in his chest deepened, and he felt a surge of frustration. Where did she go?

As soon as the dance ended, Bruce weaved through the party, a faint sense of unease growing in his chest. He spotted Gordon near the bar again and quickly made his way over.

“Have you seen Marie?” Bruce asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the edge in his voice.

Gordon looked up, his brow furrowing slightly. “She’s probably slipped away to somewhere quieter. You know how she is with these events.”

Bruce nodded, already turning to leave. He scanned the deck and the various corners of the yacht, but she was nowhere to be found in the bustling crowd. The tension in his chest tightened as he slipped through the more secluded areas of the ship, away from the noise and chatter.

Finally, he found her. She was standing alone on a private deck, leaning against the railing, the moonlight casting a soft glow over her figure as the waves rolled gently below. The sound of the party was distant here, replaced by the quiet hum of the sea.

He approached slowly, his voice low and smooth. “There you are.”

Marie didn’t turn to face him, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “Needed some air,” she replied, her tone casual but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Bruce stepped closer, concern etched on his brow. “You didn’t have to disappear.”

Finally turning to him, she crossed her arms, a playful smirk forming. “What, so I could watch you twirl with the bitch in the red dress?”

“The bitch in the red dress,” he began, trying to sound more at ease than he felt, “is a woman I’d keep up with casually—at least as far as the social scene goes. You know, the kind of thing I have to do to keep up appearances... keep the playboy image alive.” He gave a casual shrug, trying to dismiss any notion of it being anything more than that.

Marie tilted her head, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Right,” she teased, her tone dripping with humor. “Keeping up appearances... Must’ve been so hard to sleep around with all that ‘work’ you had to do. I’m sure it was such a sacrifice.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and Bruce felt the heat rise in his cheeks, clearly caught off guard.

He gave her a mock glare. “You’re making it sound worse than it was. I was seeing Tiffany before I met you, I might add.”

Marie raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, thank you for clarifying, Bruce. I still didn’t want to watch you dance with her, though.”

“You told me to,” he shot back, a teasing glint in his eye.

“Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it,” she quipped, a playful challenge in her voice.

Bruce joined her at the railing, leaning casually, the cool night air wrapping around them as they stared out at the water. The sounds of the party faded into a distant hum.

“You know,” Marie said, breaking the silence, her tone thoughtful, “I was just thinking about that first night we met. At the GCPD gala you hosted at Wayne Manor. That was the first time I actually met you as Bruce Wayne—didn't have a clue I’d already crossed paths with Batman.”

Bruce turned to her, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “I think about that night more often than I’d like to admit.”

She paused, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “I’m starting to think you planned that whole event just to meet me.”

Bruce laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’re just figuring that out now?”

She scrunched her nose playfully. “What can I say? I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes.”

“Look, I couldn’t exactly ask you out as Batman. So I needed a way to meet you as... me. The fundraiser was my shot. I figured it was the best chance to sweep you off your feet—without the mask, without all the shadows. Just me, Bruce.” He smirked, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Her eyes locked onto his, curiosity flaring. “It’s kind of flattering, you know, that you threw that party just to ask me out.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “Just like how I threw this whole party just to see you tonight.”

Her breath caught slightly at his words. “You could’ve just called, you know,” she said, a hint of vulnerability creeping in.

“I have been,” he replied, his voice sincere.

When silence lingered, he took a deep breath, laying it all out. “I miss you.”

The words hung in the air before Marie responded.

“You see me at work,” she said, glancing away toward the water, her voice tinged with sadness.

“I miss you—everything about you,” he confessed, his heart laid bare before her. The weight of his words were heavy and electric. “I love having you back as my partner, but I miss having the rest of you too.”

The world around them faded into a blur, both lost in the gravity of their shared history. Bruce took a small step back, cautious not to overwhelm her with the depth of his feelings.

Sensing that Marie wanted to move on from the subject, Bruce said, “By the way, your necklace is beautiful,” his eyes drawn to the delicate piece resting against her collarbone. The blue gemstone caught the soft glow of the lights, shimmering like the depths of the ocean.

“Thanks. I picked it out myself,” she replied, a shy smile flickering to life on her lips.

“You always have an eye for the best ones,” he said, genuine admiration lacing his tone.

“Not when it comes to men,” she shot back, smirking, and Bruce feigned a dramatic gasp.

“Hey now, that was low,” he teased, laughter spilling from his lips, but it was a fleeting moment of levity.

She laughed before softening for a moment, "It’s actually been nice working with you again.”

Bruce smirked, catching the shift. "I’ll take that as a compliment. I agree."

Marie rolled her eyes, teasing. "If I’ve got to have a partner, I suppose I’m glad it’s you. Though sometimes, I wonder if I’d be better off going solo. You know, like a Lone Wolf."

She smirked before continuing, "Who knows, maybe I’ll throw on some black leather and start my own vigilante gig."

"Oh yeah?" Bruce crossed his arms, leaning in a little closer. "You’re sounding pretty damn confident. You really think you’d be better off working cases by yourself?"

Marie crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. "The Red Lotus case would’ve been wrapped up by now if you hadn’t swooped in at the Billiard’s Club and almost gotten my nose broken."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Sorry again about that." He paused, then added with a teasing grin, "But in my defense, you could’ve ducked faster when Zucco threw the punch."

Marie scoffed, leaning further against the railing. "If you hadn’t broken in there, Zucco would’ve given me the information we needed to catch Maroni. Rookie mistake, Wayne."

Bruce leaned in slightly, his gaze steady on hers. "So, you think you could do my job better?"

"Better? Hell yeah," she said, tapping her chin as if seriously considering it. "Step one: stop with all the brooding. Step two: maybe ditch the cape. Little dramatic, don’t you think?"

Bruce chuckled. "The cape’s staying. It's fucking iconic."

Marie gave him a look, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Iconic? Please. I'd pull it off better than you, no contest."

They laughed together, a sound that felt natural and easy. It had been so long since they'd just talked like this—no cases, no weight of the world pressing down on them. Just them. Bruce found himself smiling, more at the feeling of the moment than anything else.

Bruce glanced at her, his grin lingering. "You know what? You’d look sexy in the suit."

Marie raised an eyebrow, feigning shock. "Sexy? Now you’re just trying to charm me, Wayne."

He smirked, shrugging. "Just saying. Gotham wouldn’t stand a chance."

Marie shook her head, her grin wide. "You wouldn’t stand a chance."

For a moment, they both paused, realizing how good it felt to be laughing, teasing each other again. It was like slipping back into something comfortable, something real—something they’d both missed.

Bruce leaned back slightly, still watching her. "It’s nice, you know? Talking like this again."

Marie’s smile softened. "Yeah. It really is."

She shifted her weight against the rail before asking, “So, do you have any other guests to mingle with, or am I hogging your time?” Her gaze shifted away from him, a defensive wall rising as if she could distance herself from the truth swirling between them. The air thickened once more as she grew serious again.

Bruce leaned in closer, the sincerity in his voice dropping to a whisper. “Honestly? You’re the only one I want to be with tonight. Everyone else can wait.”

Her eyes narrowed, skepticism creeping into her expression. “Bruce…”

Seeing the opportunity, Bruce went for it, “Marie, I don’t want to just be partners again. I want more.”

Her expression hardened, the walls around her heart building higher. “Bruce, I don’t want to get caught up in this again. It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” he echoed, stepping closer, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What about it is complicated? I’m in love with you, Marie.”

His confession hung heavy in the air, bold and raw. His resolve remained unwavering as he stood there, determined.

A lump formed in her throat as she searched his eyes for a hint of uncertainty, but all she found was honesty. “You can’t just throw that around. Do you have any idea how hard this has been for me?” Her voice trembled.

“Then say it back,” he urged gently, desperation flashing in his eyes. “If you don’t love me, I’ll back off. We can just be work partners, nothing more.”

The silence pressed down on them, thick and unyielding, as Bruce stood there, grappling with everything he wanted to say. His voice was quieter when he finally spoke, but there was an urgency to it, something raw.

Bruce’s voice was steady but raw, each word heavy. “You know, every damn time I’m out there—every time I’m in the line of fire—I think of you. You’re in my head, Marie. I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

Marie’s breath caught, her heartbeat quickening as the weight of his words settled over her. She swallowed, her eyes dropping for a second, her mind swirling with the memories they shared—the nights at the docks, the chaos at the Iceberg Lounge, that first kiss in the shadows of Wayne Manor. “Bruce, it’s not that simple. There’s so much at risk.”

His eyes flashed, and he took a step closer, voice rough with frustration. “You think I don’t get it? Every fucking night I leave that cave, I know what’s at stake. But you—” he broke off, jaw clenched, as he forced himself to take a breath, softening just a bit. “I need you.”

He didn’t break eye contact, and in that moment, there was nothing between them but truth.

The air between them was charged, heavy with everything unsaid. Her lips parted as if to answer, but the words tangled in her throat, caught in the push and pull of fear and longing. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just stared at him, her mind racing.

Bruce, almost instinctively, lifted his hand to her face, his fingers brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her eyes flutter shut. His touch was warm, grounding her, silently urging her to speak. She leaned into his palm, a deep breath filling her lungs as she tried to gather the strength to say what needed to be said.

"I did," she whispered, the confession hanging between them like a fragile thread about to snap. "But I don’t anymore."

The words fell from her lips, each one cutting through him like a blade. Her hand reached up, gently but deliberately removing his from her face, breaking their connection. The absence of her warmth left him cold.

Bruce’s heart shattered at her words, the weight of her rejection hitting him harder than he’d anticipated. He fought the urge to flinch, his breath catching in his chest. For a moment, he just stared at her, hoping there was some misstep, some misunderstanding. But the cold finality in her eyes told him otherwise.

His hands flexed into fists at his sides, the raw edge of hurt palpable in his voice as he spoke, quieter than before, almost restrained. “Understood.”

The word barely made it out of his throat, but he couldn't trust himself to say anything more. His mind was spinning, thoughts racing between anger, sadness, and disbelief.

Without waiting for a response, he took a step back, distancing himself, the overwhelming sting of rejection like a punch to the gut.

"I'll see you in a few days," he said, his voice flatter now, deliberately formal, his gaze already shifting away. The vulnerability he'd shown moments ago was locked behind his defenses again, but it was shaky, and he knew it.

“To connect on the Red Lotus case,” he added, almost mechanically. Business as usual—at least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself. But inside, his heart was a mess of pain and confusion.

His body moved like it was on autopilot, turning away from her as the lump in his throat tightened. His hand shot up, running through his hair in frustration, as if the physical act could somehow scrub the hurt away.

He wanted to be angry, to shut down and walk away clean, but the sadness clung to him, weighing him down. He couldn’t be mad at her, not really—she had her reasons. But that didn’t make the heartbreak any easier to swallow.

As he took another step away, his voice cracked just slightly, betraying the control he was desperately holding onto. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

Those words were hollow, and he knew it. He wanted to say more, to ask why, to beg her to change her mind, to say she didn't mean it—but he couldn’t. He was Bruce Wayne, the one who always kept his cool, who never let the mask slip for too long. He couldn’t risk unraveling in front of her.

He kept walking, each step feeling heavier than the last. His heart pounded in his chest, a storm of emotions crashing against the walls he was so desperately trying to rebuild. He could feel the tears threatening to spill over but swallowed them down, his jaw tightening.

The night around him felt suffocating, and every fiber of him wanted to scream, to let out the frustration, the heartbreak. But all he could do was put one foot in front of the other and force himself away from her.

He heard Marie call after him, faintly, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. Not now. Not when everything felt so raw and exposed. If he turned around, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together.

But then, like a lifeline, she yelled after him again, her voice more urgent. “Bruce—wait!”

His footsteps faltered, his whole body tense. He stopped in his tracks, fighting the urge to turn back, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.

And then, the words that nearly broke him all over again: “I love you.”

For a moment, he didn’t process it. It was everything he’d been longing to hear, but it felt so surreal, so sudden after everything that had just passed between them.

He spun slowly to face her, the shock rippling across his features. For a moment, all the emotions he had fought to bury surged back up, overwhelming him. And then he saw her—standing there against the railing, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, her figure tense but still. 

The night air tousled her hair, and her eyes, wide and vulnerable, locked onto his. She was gripping the railing as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded, her knuckles white against the dark metal. Her lips trembled slightly, the weight of her confession sitting in the space between them.

“I... I love you,” she repeated, her voice unsteady but resolute. The rawness in her gaze mirrored the same emotion he'd shown earlier—exposed, fragile, but undeniably real.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, and her vulnerability struck him with the force of a tidal wave. For the first time, he truly saw her—open, terrified, and yet standing tall in that moment of truth.

The moonlight caught the sheen in her eyes, the slight quiver in her lower lip, but her words, though trembling, didn’t falter. They were full of conviction, and it hit him just how close he'd come to walking away from something that still held hope.

Bruce could barely process it. His mind was still swimming in the pain of rejection, but now there was hope—a light in the darkness. Slowly, he took a step toward her, like he was testing the ground beneath him, afraid that if he moved too quickly, the moment would shatter.

“I’ve loved you this whole time,” she continued, her voice catching.

Bruce blinked, his heart pounding in his chest, trying to catch up with everything that was happening.

Her admission was like a balm on the wound, slowly healing the raw edges of his heartbreak. As he stepped closer, the sadness that had weighed him down moments before began to lift, replaced by something fragile but real—hope.

His voice was barely audible as he said, “Then why did you say that you don’t?”

Marie took a shaky breath, her eyes glistening. “Because it’s easier to be mad at you than to face how much I care. How much I’ve always cared.” She felt her composure faltering, her vulnerability laying bare before him. “You’re Batman. You live in danger every single day. I can’t bear the thought of losing you to the darkness that surrounds you.”

Her breath caught as fear and longing wrestled for control. “And then I start thinking, what if we try again, and what if it doesn’t work out? What if we’re just two people caught in a cycle of pain and heartbreak?”

He swallowed hard, the words pressing at the back of his throat as he looked at her, standing there with her heart exposed. He took a deep breath, stepping toward her, his voice thick with emotion. “I know what’s at stake,” Bruce said, his voice low, the weight of his words lingering in the air. “I feel it every night I step out there.”

The silence returned, heavy and thick. Marie felt her walls crumbling, and she wrestled with the chaos of her feelings.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t go through that again.”

“Then don’t lose me,” Bruce said, stepping closer again, his voice firm yet gentle. “I’m standing right here. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

His hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for her, but he held back, the weight of the moment pressing him to hold onto whatever restraint he had left. “Say you love me again, and I’m not letting you go this time.”

Marie’s eyes softened, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she finally let herself speak the words that had been swirling in her chest for so long. “I love you.”

As soon as the words left her lips, he closed the distance between them in an instant, his expression shifting from longing to determination. He captured her lips in a fierce kiss, pinning her against the railing, the world around them dissolving into nothingness. All that remained was the two of them.

Their lips met in a rush of urgency and desire, a wild mingling of pent-up emotions that had been simmering for far too long. Marie melted into him, every worry and doubt dissipating as she surrendered to the moment, losing herself in the heat of their connection.

When Bruce finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against hers, their breath mingling, heavy and uneven. His voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a promise. "Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together. You don’t have to be scared anymore."

Marie’s heart pounded against her chest as she stared into his eyes. For the first time in a long time, the fear in her heart was eclipsed by something else—hope, love, and the undeniable pull between them.

Bruce kissed her again—this time with even more intensity, a fierce declaration of everything they’d been holding back. He pressed her harder against the rail, his lips moving against hers like a vow. It wasn’t gentle; it was urgent, desperate, as though he was claiming her, body and soul.

As the kiss deepened, their hands explored—his fingers tangled in her hair, while she traced the strong line of his jaw. They lost themselves in the moment, time slipping away until a soft creak shattered the intensity.

The door to the balcony swung open, and Alfred stood there, eyes wide with surprise. Realizing the scene before him, he quickly averted his gaze, the faintest smile creeping onto his face as he cleared his throat. “Master Wayne,” he began, his voice steady but tinged with amusement, “the Mayor of Gotham has arrived. He’s asking for you.”

Bruce sighed, reluctantly pulling back just enough to meet Marie’s gaze. The heat of their connection still lingered in the air, but he softened as he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Tell him I’ll be right there, Alfred,” he replied, his voice gravelly, laced with unspent desire.

Alfred nodded, keeping his eyes respectfully averted as he discreetly retreated, closing the door behind him. The charged silence returned, thick with the promise of what was to come.

Bruce leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of Marie’s ear as he growled low, his breath warm against her skin. “I’ll be back,” he promised, his voice laced with a mix of desire and vulnerability that made her toes curl. “Stay right here,” he murmured, the words carrying a darker undertone that sent a shiver down her spine.

He pressed one last, lingering kiss to her neck, savoring the warmth of her skin before reluctantly stepping away. Bruce ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down, his fingers lingering for a moment as he tried to regain his composure and pull himself together.

He glanced back at Marie, his gaze softening for a heartbeat, before taking a deep breath and turning to head out to meet the Mayor, his steps heavy with the tension of leaving her behind.

The door clicked shut, leaving Marie alone, her mind spinning in the aftermath of the heated moment. She pressed her fingertips to her lips, still swollen from the force of his kiss, her pulse racing.

Her thoughts spiraled. She hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, not tonight. But being with Bruce felt so natural, so right, like coming home after being gone for far too long. The way he kissed her—fierce, unapologetic, and so full of emotion—it was everything she had feared but everything she needed.

She loved him.

She loved Bruce Wayne, and it wasn’t just the man he was underneath the mask. It wasn’t the mystery or the danger that clung to him. It was his strength, his vulnerability, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in a world filled with chaos.

The thought of losing him terrified her, but the idea of not being with him was worse.

Marie shook her head, pacing the small, private balcony in small circles. Every time she told herself she needed to be rational, that she had to protect herself from heartbreak, the memory of his touch, the feel of his lips against hers, shattered that resolve.

She couldn’t deny it anymore. She was in love with Bruce, wholly and irrevocably, and no matter what danger lay ahead, she was ready to face it—with him.

Minutes passed, though they felt like hours, as Marie’s heart beat louder in her ears. The door suddenly opened, and Bruce stepped back in. The intense look from earlier returned, but now, a playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

Before Marie could even react, Bruce was standing in front of her, pulling her into his arms with a quiet intensity. He kissed her, hard and deep, as if he couldn’t wait another second. His hands gripped her waist, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion, and the world around them seemed to disappear.

When they finally broke for air, Bruce’s forehead rested against hers, his breath coming fast. He looked at her, his eyes dark with something fierce. “I love you,” he said, his voice rough and raw. “I love you, and I swear to God, I’m not going anywhere now. Not for anything.”

She grinned, feeling the warmth of his words seep into her very core. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice tinged with both affection and disbelief that they had finally arrived at this moment.

Bruce kissed her again, softer this time, but just as intense. His lips moved against hers with a tenderness that made her heart swell, and he tightened his grip on her, cradling her like she was something precious.

Slowly, he carried her out of the room and down the hallway toward a stateroom.

They barely made it through the doorway before Bruce kicked the door shut behind them, pressing Marie against it as they continued kissing. His hands roamed her back, feeling the softness of her, while her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting more of him, all of him.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and rough with desire. "I’ve wanted to be with you like this, to feel you like this…"

Marie’s heart raced as she kissed him back with equal passion, her breath catching at the intensity of it all. She had never felt so alive, so consumed by love and desire all at once. 

The heat between them was overwhelming, but in the best possible way. Every kiss, every touch, was filled with unspoken promises, with the depth of emotion they had both been too scared to admit until now.

Bruce pulled her closer, his hands firm but gentle as he carried her further into the room, laying her down on the bed with careful precision. He gently lowered himself onto her, their bodies entwined. A sense of peace washed over them, a moment suspended in time.

She could feel the hard contours of his body pressing into her, the heat radiating off him igniting every nerve ending.

Their mouths met again, a fierce collision that spoke volumes. As they kissed, the longing that had built over months poured out of them, their desperation palpable in the way they clung to each other.

Bruce’s hands roamed along the curve of her back, his touch warm and possessive as he pulled her closer, their bodies fitting together like pieces of a long-lost puzzle. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, anchoring herself against him as if he were her only lifeline.

She could feel the strength in his muscles beneath her fingertips, the way he radiated warmth, and it made her heart race.

They lost themselves in each other, reveling in the heat, the urgency, and the overwhelming love that pulsed between them like a heartbeat—a reminder that they were meant to be, despite the chaos that surrounded them.

Unsure of how much time had passed, Bruce and Marie pulled away, their breaths mingling in the charged air. Reality began to seep back in, and the weight of the world slowly returned. Bruce’s eyes softened, still filled with emotion as he gently kissed her forehead.

“Hey,” he murmured, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips. “We have ice cream waiting for us in the butler's kitchen.”

Marie chuckled softly, the remnants of their passion still lingering in the air, and nodded. “Ice cream sounds perfect right now.”

They walked hand in hand through the dimly lit corridors of Wayne Manor, the sounds of the gala fading behind them. As they entered the butler's kitchen, a comforting scent of vanilla wafted through the air, mixing with the coolness of the space. Bruce opened the freezer and pulled out a container, his expression shifting to playful mischief.

“I have both of your favorites, chocolate fudge or classic vanilla. What are you feeling tonight?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Chocolate fudge, obviously,” she replied, grinning as she hopped up onto the counter, swinging her legs slightly.

As he scooped the ice cream into two bowls, the earlier intensity of their conversation lingered like a warm blanket around them. Marie watched him, her heart swelling at the sight of him in this light—vulnerable yet strong, a man she had long admired.

Bruce stepped in front of Marie, standing between her legs as she sat on the counter. He set the bowls of ice cream down beside her, his hands resting casually on the counter’s edge, close to her hips. His tall frame filled the small space, creating a sense of closeness between them. Marie, her legs gently swinging off the side of the counter, scooped a spoonful of ice cream, her lips curling into a soft smile.

The kitchen was quiet, the faint hum of the night outside surrounding them. Bruce’s gaze stayed on her face, noticing the way the dim light softened her features—the relaxed curve of her lips, the subtle warmth in her eyes. He hadn’t touched his ice cream yet, too caught up in the rare moment of peace between them, the closeness they rarely shared like this.

Marie absentmindedly brushed her fingers against his wrist as she took another bite, the gesture light but intimate, and the silence between them felt comfortable, as if they didn’t need words to fill the space.

“I was thinking,” Marie began playfully, “If you gave me some more time, I would’ve figured out you were Batmanon my own.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh really? And how exactly would you have figured that out?”

She leaned closer to him, a teasing grin on her lips. “I don’t know, maybe all the late nights and the brooding? Or the way you magically disappear whenever Gotham is in trouble. I mean, come on, it’s not rocket science.”

Bruce chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Okay, fair point.” 

Bruce stepped closer, positioning himself between Marie’s legs as she sat on the kitchen counter. He placed the bowls of ice cream beside her and leaned in, his hands resting lightly on the counter by her hips. The small space between them felt intimate, the night’s quiet hum settling around them like a comforting blanket.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice low. "You know, I almost told you so many times. About Batman. About everything."

Marie paused mid-bite, her spoon hanging in the air as she looked at him. "You did?"

Bruce nodded, his expression serious. "That night at the docks... I thought I was going to die. I kept thinking, if something happened to me, I couldn't leave you in the dark. I didn't want you to never know."

Her eyes softened, understanding replacing the initial surprise. "You really thought you were going to die?"

Bruce exhaled slowly, his gaze intense. "Yeah. I had to consider it. And more than anything, I didn't want to go without you knowing the truth. Keeping it from you always felt... wrong."

Marie let his words settle, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She reached out, her fingers brushing his forearm. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she rubbed his arm slowly.

She took a long breath, her voice gentle yet filled with weight. “You know,” she said, breaking the quiet between them, “when you were bleeding out on the docks, and when I saw Alfred patching you up at your house… I haven’t felt that helpless since I was a kid, watching my dad die.”

Bruce’s gaze shifted, brow furrowing, wanting her to continue.

She looked away, caught in the memory. “When he got shot while working a case. I remember visiting him in the hospital after it happened. He was hooked up to all these machines, tubes everywhere, and I just stood there... frozen.”

She took a breath before going on, “I was a kid, but I knew what it meant. Seeing him so weak, lying there... I felt powerless. I didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to go home without him, but I had to. The fear of losing him, of walking out of that hospital without my dad, it was paralyzing.”

Marie paused, the silence heavy between them, before she looked up at Bruce, her eyes clouded with the memory. “And when I saw you... lying there at the docks, barely holding on... it was like being back in that hospital room. That same helpless feeling all over again. Except this time, I wasn’t a kid. When you pulled your mask up, and I saw that you were Bruce, my Bruce… I was watching the most important person in my life slip away. And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

She set her ice cream bowl aside, her entire focus on him now. The vulnerability in her voice made Bruce’s chest tighten.

He reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch soft. “I never wanted to put you through something like that.” He whispered to her.

Her hand came up to meet his, resting his palm against her cheek. She closed her eyes at the warmth of his touch. “I’ve seen you take on so much. You were always this invincible figure to me, even when I didn’t know who was behind the mask.”

His thumb rubbed her cheek as she continued, “But that night... I realized you weren’t invincible. And it terrified me.” Her voice faltered, her eyes searching his for understanding. “I realized I could lose my work partner, and the man I love. It felt like the world was closing in. That’s why I ended things with you. I didn’t want to feel that pain again.”

Bruce’s thumb paused, his forehead almost touching hers. His voice was low, laced with emotion. “You don’t know how much I needed you, Marie. Every time I put on that suit, I thought I was protecting you by keeping you out of it. But the truth is, I don’t want to do this without you. I need you by my side—whether I’m wearing the mask or not.”

Her heart pounded at his words, the intensity of his honesty cutting through her. He cupped her face fully now, his thumbs brushing gently against her skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Marie. I swear. Whatever happens, I’ll be right here. We’ll face it all together. No more secrets. No more running.”

Marie’s breath hitched, her forehead leaning against his, their closeness grounding her. “Promise me,” she whispered, her voice almost breaking. “Promise me you won’t keep anything from me again.”

“I promise,” Bruce whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. “You and me—no matter what.”

Marie opened her eyes, her gaze unwavering but soft. “I love you, Bruce.”

A slow, tender smile spread across Bruce’s lips, his usual guarded demeanor melting away in her presence. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers with a gentleness that spoke of everything unsaid. “I love you too, Marie.”

Marie smiled, the weight on her chest lifting. “Here’s to no more secrets,” she said, her voice light yet filled with meaning.

Bruce chuckled softly, his thumb brushing across her lips before resting his hand on the counter beside her. “To no more secrets,” he echoed, his voice steady, a vow to her.

They clinked their ice cream bowls together, the simple gesture carrying the weight of everything they’d shared. It wasn’t just a toast—it was a new beginning. A promise that from now on, they’d face whatever came together, with no more lies, no more running.

[boom-bada-boom]

a field of mirror all demanding to be the sun too

dick grayson is all human. except for the parts that are not.

at the edge of Everything and Nothing, It hovered. edges undefined, shapeless, simply a mass that is ever churning, indistinguishable from what surrounds it, one and the same with the Everything and the Nothing and yet entirely separate. It coveted the freedom, the feeling of Existence brushing through wings and feathers, when It felt like forming them in the first place. It was always moving, always changing, always shifting, because It was made of Action and Reaction, the Catalyst and the Inhibitor, Creating and Being Created.

except the thing about being so Large, is that soon enough Everything starts to feel so small. It is a being of Freedom and Change, and that means that It cannot stay idle in one space.

another thing about being so Large—It is not often aware of Life, small as Life is compared to Itself. but It knows of Life, and It decides that the next adventure can be compacting Itself and Moving amongst them.

so, in the place that is timeless, the darkness and the light and the unknown bundles itself together, tightly, as infinite feathered wings sprout from Its body, covered in eyes that are feathers that are eyes, except for the largest pair, which are all fingers and skin and sometimes hands and sometimes not. It grins using a beak using a snout using nothing, but it is always all teeth.

It has always had a fondness for acting.

—

richard john grayson is born squalling, and the fabric of the world shakes with it, just a little. the earth trembled like it is afraid, until it doesnt.

after, his mother and father do not mention impossible things. they do not mention the way the stars had become eyes, for just a blink. they do not mention the shadows growing limbs, cupping around them. they do not mention the headache it caused to look at their son, until it didn’t.

there is nothing wrong with their son—he is a beautiful and healthy baby boy. that is all that matters, in the end.

—

dick took a fierce pride and pleasure in flying. he made it a point to himself to not use his wings, to not simply negate gravity entirely. he flies by human means, and finds it beautiful.

sometimes he could almost forget, with the vast majority of him still in Everywhere and Nowhere. he could not bring in all of himself without cracking this universe at its seams entirely, not without tearing this human body apart in the process. it is why he cannot See as much as he used to—most of his Eyes are still with the rest of him, so his vision is limited.

of course some power still leaks out of him, even if he does not try using it. but he makes an effort not to use them during flight that he never makes anywhere else.

(when his parents fell, for just a moment he forgot that he is a greater beast than them all. he forgot about gravity and feathers and space and for a moment he was all human, crying over the broken bodies of his parents.

his seams tremble, until they are held together by loving human hands in a hug. bruce wayne does not say anything, nor does he realize he is holding back infinity.)

(dick endeavors to make sure he never realizes. he remembers how the circus eyed him, before, and he does not like when family is afraid. he is supposed to be terrifying, but not for them. never for them.)

—

when robin takes flight he is painfully human. he is grinning and laughing and moving and flying. he perches on batman’s arm like a bird, practically weightless.

it is all human.

except for the times it isnt.

shadows twist and darken, hiding the bat and bird, reaching out toward their targets like fingers. robin’s laugh echoes for miles, but is only heard by some people. he grins and it is sharp teeth too many for a little boy’s mouth, stretching too wide that it shouldnt be able to fit on his face, but it does.

sometimes, his shadow is many winged and has eyes that watch.

but robin is human. even if the criminal underground of gotham will never believe it.

(when every robin after the first comes along, they are always human. they are not like the first. the shadows watch out for them anyway.)

—

after jason dies, the universe trembles. it is almost like that day so many years ago, when a boy was born. the universe trembles and dick aches. he wants to pull his little brother from the wooden cage below the dirt. but he cannot, because he is very powerful, but he is too disconnected from Life to just bring him back to life. at least, not without irreparably damaging jason body and soul.

what he can do is avenge him, that little bird he had taken underwing. that little bird named robin, because although dick did not name him such, he did become robin. eventually.

but not soon enough, it seems.

the joker is torn apart. he is ripped through at the seams, his body torn asunder, his spirit trapped in Everywhere and Nowhere with the rest of him. the Edge drives humans mad, simply because they can not comprehend it. but it is the Entity that makes them tear themselves apart.

the joker does not die. his body might die, but his spirit lives. it suffers without start or end, in a place where Time refuses to tread.

jason is avenged in the best way dick knows how.

—

with each little robin after that, there is something slithering and cold about their shadow. dick learned his lesson about keeping his distance, simply because he did not want to run the risk of scaring them, of changing them.

their lives are more important than that.

and then. and then. jason comes back.

but, oh, he comes back wrong. he comes back twisted by a pit that has no right tangling its claws into HIS little wing.

when he meets the red hood, he endeavors to rip those claws out. and if they are necessary? well, he could replace them if it was really, really needed.

(after coming back from the dead, jason feels off when near dick grayson. it feels like his spine is tingling with fear, like there are too many eyes on him. sometimes, when he does not announce his presence—though dick always seems to know he’s there anyway—he can hear feathers, ruffling, shuffling against each other. but there are no birds.)

one night, as jason sleeps, the green green pits are ripped out of him. he wakes up screaming, until it stops. in the place of burning hot green comes slithering cool shadows, soothing the aching pain. it feels familiar in a way the pits never did. it does not burn as it runs along his blood.

he falls back asleep, and when he wakes again in the morning, the entire experience feels like a dream. the only proof he could possibly have is the slithering shadows, but they do not rise to his awareness like the pits always did, pushing and pulling at his emotions to make him angry, make him rage.

he feels… normal.

(the only times the shadows ever show themselves is when his siblings are in danger. they are a protective force, darkening like they want to hide his siblings. they do not burn, but at those times, they run remarkably cold.)

—

it all comes to a head in one mission. it’s a cult, because of course it is. somehow, someway, they’d gotten it into their heads to summon something Other, in a bid to destroy the world, and remake it anew in their own image.

fools, to think they could control something like that.

but the summons begins working, and dick can feel himself, the rest of him, slowly beginning to be pulled into this universe with him. because of course, the ritual had to latch onto him.

when his attempts to stop the ritual turn frantic, the rest of his family side eye him in concern.

“nightwing?” robin is the one to ask.

the ritual is picking up speed. the room trembles.

(there’s a reason dick didn’t bring himself in his Entirety here, to this universe. there’s a reason the universe trembles when he uses too much power. there’s a reason his body starts bleeding when he does too much at once. this universe cannot hold him entirely. moreso, this body cannot hold him without being torn to shreds.)

nightwing’s nose begins to bleed. his shadow starts writhing on the wall.

still, the standing cultists continue the ritual. still, the tear that is pulling him through gets wider.

“STOP IT!” he shouts, screams, and it is like static, like the universe is speaking, like time is freezing in place, like the groan of seams straining, straining, snapping.

the room is crumbling around them, the universe is crumbling around them, and there is something wrong with nightwing.

the last of the cultists are crushed by rubble, and they barely have the mind to think about rescuing them. there is someone much more worthy of rescue currently crouching in a little corner of the room, the air around him wavering like it does not know how to exist.

the rip stays open. he continues to get dragged through. it will take too long to close it, he already knows, but he starts sewing it shut anyway.

his body strains. the universe strains. everything strains.

at one end of the room is dick grayson, body falling apart, skin fading away like ghosts, shapes almost like wings hovering around his body, surrounded by the glint of eyes that are there and then gone, his bones creaking like the eaves of an old house as they try to hold the burden of inhumanity, a glow beginning to leak from him, or perhaps it is a shadow, or maybe it is both.

at the other end of the room is his family, trying to dodge falling pieces of the sky, so worried about what could be wrong with dick, wondering if something came out of the ritual and if it latched itself onto him, wondering what is happening to him, wondering how they can save him, wondering what is being done to him, if he is hurting, if they can fix it.

it is a room between them. it is also the fabric of the world between them.

then, unexpectedly, a large portion of the building crumbles down upon the bats huddled at one end, a hungry maw opening in the ceiling with jagged edges like teeth, the rubble like a tongue descending to bring them to it, and far far above them they can see a glimpse of the sky only to notice the colors streaking through it that should not be there. nothing dares fall down upon the space where dick’s body crumbles and breaks so he has a perfect view of the opening jaw, using both his eyes and his Eyes, all of them wide.

and suddenly, there is no space between them at all.

because, there, above them, hands that are sometimes wings, huge and wide and open, hold up the sky.

and, there, around them, dozens of hundreds of thousands of millions of wings wrap the space around them like a shield of feathers.

before them, there, dick kneels, their own personal atlas. his mouth is filling up with teeth, his limbs twisting and stretching like no human being’s, his skin fading into vague clouds that might be shadows and might be stardust.

but he is undeniably dick grayson. and he undeniably loves them.

—

the heroes arrived on the scene at the same time as the villains did. power, after all, calls out to power, and what is more powerful than the ender of Everything.

at the center of it is a black hole of a broken building, all toothy edges and strange angles, open windows without entry.

at the center of it is a Being, made of drifting wings and watching eyes and heavy presence that eats gravity, shadows and lights, a cold hand resting at the base of your neck and a tightening noose.

at the center of it, hidden beneath ribs opened like a flower, is a family, who feel the growl of stayawaytheyremineifyoucomecloseriwillkillyouandtearyouandripyouandyoursoulwillbelongtomebutiwillnotcovetitlikeidotheirsandyouwilldisoverdeathisnotkinderthanmanandiscertainlynotkinderthanmosters and try to sooth it, try to promise you dont need to protect us, could we protect you this time?

the Something wails like a child, like the damned, and cries as It feels the body It had used turn to dust. Its final anchor to this reality, and this reality’s final shield against It.

It is no longer dick grayson. but It can protect what dick grayson left behind.

It bears Its teeth, and when one mouth is not enough, It forms more, more mouths and more teeth and more biting and not letting go. It is a black hole of a Being, always consuming and never giving back, an absence of everything and yet a presence so heavy as to crush.

the mouths snap at anything that gets close enough, gravity eaten away at until even the superhumans cannot fly, time slowly chewed upon until there are gouges in it.

ribs are open are a cage are a flower are jagged are teeth are a gaping maw waiting, just waiting, until it can bite down. not biting down because It cannot consume the little fires between teeth that are ribs, but It can bite down anything that walks into the cage that is not a cage.

“dickiebird, you gotta calm down,” something says, and it is the only noise not consumed in Its black hole body.

“you’re panicking, making whatever is going on worse,” a different something, still not eaten whole.

a foolhardy villain mistakes receding tides as weakness, and not the premonition of the wave. humans always lack hubris, but this one suddenly lacks even more than as it is swirled in a mouth that is a circle, wings that are hands that are claws reaching in to pick at it even more. it dies screaming, torn into uncountable pieces. on Its body, countless Eyes lock upon the spirit left behind, latching and not letting go.

“chum…” another voice, soft as a graveyard, safe as a shadow, low like coming home.

a face that has a beak and a snout and nothing at all turns down to look into ribs and teeth, and It is not dick grayson. It is not.

but It is. he is.

and that is his father, even if It was never born and always was.

this is not the grave. dick grayson does not have to die.

some other things

it is no wonder that heroes seems to orbit around him like he is their own personal sun. he is all gravity, and floats like he has none. there’s something celestial about the way he smiles, something heliacal about the way he laughs. (“the multiversal constant,” superman calls him. it’s no wonder.)

in a time long gone, there was a group of heroes in their fortress outside of the earth. and then a little bird snuck aboard the ship. they all grew to love the bird just the same, and they never forgot the starlight reflected off his small face. (he is not powerful just because he could eat the world. he is powerful because he could eat the world and no one would be able to stomach stopping him.)

despite a legacy as the gray son of gotham, the court of owls never did dare to approach dick grayson. not for lack of trying, of course, but the talons of the court would never approach him. the dead, after all, have more to fear from him than the living, and they have a much better sense of knowing it. not that the court knew that part.

before jason, dick did not keep many constant Eyes on this universe. it would destabilize it, which would defeat the whole point of trying out the human way, and potentially destroy all his progress. besides, bruce was practically part shadow himself, not even accounting the small boon he’d given. (he did not see the way he held bruce up, just a little, like one would hold up their father. he did not see the way he used to think the same thing about his parents. but that is for later.) even jason did not need a constant Eye, because bruce was already there keeping his own eyes on the young bird. after jason died, after dick realized he could not fix this without making it worse, after promising never again, he decided to hell with the universe’s stability. he would keep an Eye on every member of his family—constantly growing as it is—and stitch the universe together piece by piece if he had to.

(unfortunately for him, other people ended up noticing the gradual slipping stitches. sure, some of them were just justice league dark. but others were the type to use this weakness to their own gain. and others of them were the type to try and find what was powerful enough to cause this in the first place.)

his body is made of shadow, but his wings are all lights. not just white light, but colorful, colorful lights. if he did not have wings you could almost look over him with your eyes. perhaps it is why he took to the batman so well—after all, he has experience bringing light to shadow and shadow to light.

had an epiphany anyway his feathers are like fucked up peacock feathers because they have an eye on each feather except sometimes they detach themselves and sometimes you cant see any at all and its all just one big mindfuck

“oh you cant kill the joker because he’s like a curse. he will always come back and he will be worse for it!” dick, who trapped his spirit with the rest of his Being to suffer eternally: cant revive if the soul is stuck where there isnt even any time 🤘

SORRY I GOT A VISION FROM THE GODS. ANYWAY BATMAN GETS A CALL FROM TGE GCPD AND HE PULLS UP TO A RANDOM WAREHOUSE AND THE INSIDE IS JUST SPLATTERED WALL TO CEILING IN BLOODY GORE. THERES AN OFFICER VOMITING IN A CORNER BEHIND HIM. THE ENTIRE THING IS ONE BIG “CENSORED” BLACK OUT BOX. BATMAN ASKS GORDON “and you’re sure this is joker?” AND JIM JUST POINTS AT THE CENTER OF THE WAREHOUSE WHERE “JOKES ON YOU BITCH” IS WRITTEN IN JOKER’S BONES. BRUCE COMES BACK TO THE CAVE AND FUCKING VIDEO CALLS DICK LIKE “do you know who could have done this?” QND DICK LOOKS INTO THE CAMER ALIKE THIS:

ive been thinking of how to write this into a fic format and i think. writing it out as a casefic with intermittent flashbacks to things that give greater context about current events? leading up to the climactic reveal

as for the case itself. theyre tracking the cult, though they dont actually know its a cult just yet. maybe its like. a missing persons case that begins to spiral wildly out of control or smth??

(guy whose only information on how cults operate is cult of the lamb and also that one episode of psych where gus tried to date the cult lady voice) uhhh so. so what kind of criminal activities would cults be doing to further their aims

head in my hands i cant believe i forgot they would 100% do theft. also maybe try and find a way to wedge in some drug angle??

they are stealing gemstones and/or rare metals!!! for the ritual of course. and as for the victs, maybe each of them represents an aspect of the world/universe and combine to create a cosmic address, kind of like telling your buddy your address over the phone, a sort of we’re right here! thing. yknow?

the classical four elements, life, death, shadow, light, space, time, motion, motionless

herpetologist (with specialty in turtles) as the earth for the whole world turtle thing. ornithologist as air. arsonist as fire. sailor as water. undertaker obvi covering death. nurse/doctor as life. clockmaker for time. planetarium employee for space. theater lighting designer for light. they want to use batman specifically for dark, but any bat they can get into place for it would do

element and gemstone in their circle, starting from north and going clockwise: air/danburite, light/tanzanite, life/green kyanite, water/larimar, motion/selenite, space/sunstone, fire/ruby, shadow/garnet, death/mahogany obsidian, earth/black tourmaline, motionless/tiger’s eye, time/golden topaz

some sort of fancy ceremonial blade is involved (for the whole “cutting a hole through the universe” imagery thing)

[wynnibee]

A Walk in the Park

Hi @starriegalaxy I was your secret skeleton!! I apologize for it being so late, thank you for your patience ❤️ I hope you enjoy a little walk through the park with Eclipse!

Lovingly proofread and edited by @voidedtea

Word Count: ~2700

Oh, how you loved the fall.

The shorter days, the chilly nights — and of course, the beauty of the changing leaves. The bright reds and yellows contrasting sharp against the brilliant blue sky, the leaves dancing against the open air like the flames of a fire. You so loved to listen to their rustling in the autumn breeze, their falling to the ground of a soft whirlwind of color.

You listen to them crunch under your feet – a delightful sound accompanying your stroll through the park. Towering oaks and maples, lining the park’s path like silent guardians, had just begun to show their bare branches in the mid-autumn day. Their trunks' bases were blanketed in once-verdant leaves, all the more swirling down to join them. A few stray ones tumble and crinkle past your feet in the light breeze.

The park is lit by the sun overhead, its creeping across the sky slow as the day nears its end. That sun shines through what leaves still cling to their trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. You relish in the warmth as you walk out from under them.

Passing into the shadow of that canopy again, a small chill runs up your arms despite your sweater’s warmth. You hold your arms closer to yourself in a hug, hoping to trap the last of what the sun's kiss could provide.

The park was so beautiful this time of year, you were surprised that it was practically empty. Most people didn't bother coming out when later afternoon slipped into evening. You couldn't complain though – you preferred to have a little alone time with your companion anyways.

Turning around, you smile at Eclipse, watching as he glances around the whole park. His gaze flits between the sky as a couple of crows pass overhead, to the rustle of leaves in their trees, to the ground where a squirrel scurries about before darting up a one such tree. He glances at all the leaves piled up on the ground, his head flicking towards every bit of movement or sound. Eclipse's normally wide smile looks unsteady, and his eyes are large as he takes in his surroundings.

You frown a little. You can't help but think that he looks nervous – or at least unsure. Maybe inviting him out was a bad idea? He mentioned a while ago that he'd never been outside before…

“Clippy?” you ask, tentative. Slowly, you make your way back towards him, having put a fair amount of distance between you both where he'd gotten distracted and fell behind you.

It takes Eclipse a few seconds to notice your approach. He seems reluctant to look down at you, struggling to tear his gaze away from the trees above. When his eyes do meet yours, though, he smiles in that soft, gentle way that always makes your heart melt.

“Yes, sweetness?” the large bot says in an even tone. His eyes are full of affection and you can't help the flush of your cheeks despite your concern. You take his long hands in your own, rubbing your thumbs along his palms.

“Are you okay? Is this too much?“ You begin to ramble, “I'm sorry for overwhelming you, I should've thought about that before I brought you out here- oh, if you want to go home we can, it's okay! I'm sure we can figure something else to do there, maybe watch a movie? Whatever you wanna do, it's fine with me, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable- what?”

You cut yourself off as Eclipse chuckles at you, his eyes alight with nothing but mirthful fondness. His hands had shifted to hold yours more securely during your ramble, and as you tilt your head back to look at him, his smile widens.

“I'm not uncomfortable at all, Angel-eyes. It's just a lot to take in all at once– there's so much movement and sound and color.” He pauses to look up at the trees again, before glancing back down at you. “You'd think after all that time in the daycare I would be used to all of...this.”

Eclipse gestures to your surroundings with one hand. You glance around again, suddenly aware of the richness to it all that had faded into the back of your mind.

“Is that a bad thing?“ you say carefully. You watch as Eclipse reaches up to snatch a leaf out of the air – a lovely bright red maple – before gently twisting and turning it in his hand. The Daycare Attendant admires the leaf, poring over every detail hidden in its red surface.

“Not at all, mousecake. In fact, I've never been so...awestruck by something like this before – with one exception.” His eyes lock with yours and you flush. “The colors are so beautiful. The reds and oranges and yellows and browns. It's a constant, never-ending rush of warmth. It's fascinating that the leaves used to be so green, but now they've changed with the autumn season. I don't think I've ever actually seen the changing of the seasons in anything but pictures.”

Eclipse gently tucks the maple behind your ear and into your hair, fussing with it slightly to keep it there. He lifts your hand that he's still holding in the air, slowly twirling you so that your back is pressed against his chassis. The puffy sleeves of his outfit crinkle against your sweater as his arms wrap around you. You feel his smile press into the top of your head.

“Just take a moment to close your eyes and listen,” he whispers against your hair. Sighing, you oblige and lean back into him. “What do you hear, love?”

You turn your focus to your surroundings once more, furrowing your brow slightly as you do. 

You can hear the trees rustling overhead. You hear crows cawing off to your left, leaves blowing across the ground to your right. The particular leaf tucked into your hair rattles slightly. Underneath it all, you can even hear the quiet tick, tick, tick of Eclipse's inner workings.

“I can hear...the crows, and the wind, and the leaves. I see what you mean about it all moving,” you smile. “I can hear you, too. I think that's my favorite sound of all.”

Eclipse laughs, the noise full of affection. His arms tighten around you, and you lean back further into them. “You can hear me, huh?”

“I can hear the ticking in your chassis, the whirring of your joints as you move,“ you whisper to him, “It's a steady rhythm, a tick tick tick, over and over. It sounds like a heartbeat. It's...comforting.“

The large robot hums behind you, the sound rumbling against your back. You respond in kind – as best you can, at least. You really could get lost in the ensuing harmony, a song only you and Eclipse can hear.

“You promise you're not uncomfortable, amor? We can leave if you want,” you say with what you hope is reassurance. The last thing you want is for Eclipse to think you're upset or disappointed. Your eyes are still closed while your head rests against his chassis.

“I promise,” he says, “I enjoy being out here and spending my time with you.“

”Alright, if you change your mind, just let me know.”

A chilly breeze whispers through the leaves with the promise of a cold night. You shiver, shifting in Eclipse's arms to rub your hands up and down your sweater sleeves, trying to chase away the goosebumps rising on your skin.

Opening your eyes at last, you look around the park once more from where you stand. The sun has drooped towards the horizon, reaching for its edge with flared coronal strands. The few clouds drifting above remind you of an artist's canvas, all the different textures and colors flowing away from the sinking sun like paint off a brush.

Golden rays of light stretch through the branches of the trees, illuminating the dull concrete of the path with stepping stones of liquid gold. The day was nearing its close, leaving you with only a couple hours before the night took over. You'd have to head home soon.

But — you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Turning round, you press your chest against Eclipse, tilt your head back to look him in the face. Your arms come to wrap around his waist, and his own arms adjust to settle around you from where they'd shifted when you turned.

Your cheeks flush when his eyes soften at you, adding to the redness on your face where the cold had begun to nip at your nose. Your eyes light up as an idea strikes. Your arms tighten around Eclipse as you begin to sway slow. He watches you curiously; you can feel his eyes dart around your face, a non-existent weight smoothing over your skin. You bat your lashes at your partner as you continue to sway, slowly pulling him into the movement with you.

It only takes a minute more before he catches on, an almost overjoyed smile stretching across his faceplate as he shifts his body to take one of your hands in his and places the other gently on your side. You attempt to put your arm on his shoulder, though your fingertips just barely reach below his ruffles. A giggle escapes you at the sheer height of him.

Gently, he pulls you into the more steady rhythm of an easy two-step dance.

You swing and sway across the path, crunching and rustling leaves underfoot with every step. The animatronic's eyes never leave yours, something lovestruck adorning his face. You can only look back, admiring the way his rays catch the slowly fading afternoon light, framing his crescent face in a brilliant halo of gold fire. The bell at the end of his hat chimes with every motion.

Suddenly, he sends you out in a quick spin, holding your hand above your head as you twirl. You laugh, happily leaning into the gesture before Eclipse pulls you back to him. His laughter joins yours as you're lifted to meet his eyes, holds you secure as he spins aimlessly, bouncing and swinging you around with exaggerated steps.

Your laughter only grows, the sound almost giddy to your ears. You hold tight onto the animatronic, his eyes crinkled with delight and shoulders shaking with the force of his own laughter.

“Eclipse!” you barely get his name out through your giggles, the Daycare Attendant coming to a stop. You both stand there, under trees that seem to share your mirth, the leaves trembling in their own raucous applause.

Eclipse holds you while your laughter dies down. You take a few deep breaths, the crisp air filling your lungs. As you steady yourself, you look over to the grassy area in the middle of the park. The leaves from the path have been raked around that spot, and right in the center of the grass is a massive pile of them.

You feel your whole body swell with excitement. A grin splits your face, "Set me down, set me down! I wanna show you something."

Eclipse acquiesces without hesitation, and you reach to grab his hand.

Lacing your fingers together, you move to pull the large robot with you, but pause when you feel resistance. You look back to see Eclipse watching you with suspicion.

“What?” you say with what you hope is innocence. 

Eclipse's eyes narrow further.

“You're plotting something, sweetness. I can see it in your eyes.”

You let go of his hands to clasp your own together, holding them down by your hip as you bat your eyes at him with a smile. A picture of perfectly innocuous intent if you’ve ever seen one.

“Whaaaat? Me? Plot something? Cariño, I would never,” you say with mock, exaggerated offense, mischief blooming across your face. “You'll like this. I promise.”

Extending your hand towards the Daycare Attendant, your expression shifts into a smile more genuine. He seems to consider it, and for a brief moment you worry he might refuse. Then, Eclipse extends his hand, lacing his long fingers with yours, and returns your smile with his own.

Giggling, you begin to tug him towards the leaf pile, more of them crunching underfoot. As you go, your pace grows until Eclipse's footsteps are thudding behind to match your own. You let go of Eclipse's hand, a surprised noise leaving the Attendant as you run ahead.

You sprint right towards that leaf pile — before diving in. The leaves scatter with a rush, tumbling away in a cascading ripple-wave. After a moment to catch your breath, you heft yourself from the pile, hair and sweater soaked in crumpled leaves like autumnal confetti. 

It's a miracle the leaf Eclipse gave you is still in your hair.

The approaching intermingle of heavy footsteps and jingle of bells is barely any warning for Eclipse's ensuing leap into the pile to join you – a motion that drowns you in leaves once more. Scattered as it is, the remaining pile does little to cushion Eclipse's landing, your partner hitting the ground with a resounding thud. The air around you both fills with your collective laughter, yours doubling as he digs you out of the leaves.

Eclipse does manage to uncover you, both of you absolutely beside yourselves with mirth. You clutch at your sides as you continue to giggle, heaving yourself up to grab a handful of those leaves. Tossing them in the air, you look down at Eclipse to where he sits on the ground, the poor Attendant half-buried in leaves himself. They’re mostly caught on his rays, one leaf awkwardly impaled on the point of his left topmost one.

As the leaves you threw begin to rain down, Eclipse grabs your hand and pulls you back to the ground, holding you close. You’re gently pulled into his lap and as you wrap your arms around his neck, he falls backwards into the leaves, taking you with. You can’t help but giggle as you smile down at him from where you lay on his chassis, reaching up to pull the leaf off of his ray.

By now, the sun has finally dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in a brilliant array of golds, pinks, and deep purples. Even the trees are soon set alight with that same flurry of colors. The shadows on the ground grow harsh, meanwhile, slicing through what warmth remains.

The golden hour had begun, bathing you and your beloved robot in the last hurrah of light before the sun bid its farewells.

You watch as Eclipse drinks in the view – his eyes dart and skip across the edges of forming shadows, linger in and upon that golden light.

At last, however, they drift back to settle on you.

A flush crosses your face in spite of you as his gaze lingers. You realize, perhaps somewhat belatedly, that the light was wreathing you too. You realize that, perhaps, he's admiring you.

“You really are something else, you know that, love?” Eclipse whispers, as though raising his voice any further would scare away this settling peace.

Your eyes soften. You reach a hand up to hold the side of his faceplate, your thumb stroking over the swirl of his cheek. “Am I now? I could say the same about you, amor.”

He sighs underneath you, his chassis heaving in mimicry of the motion. You rest your head on your hand, simply watching him as he lays under you. His eyes meet yours again, crinkle with a soft smile. Eclipse raises slightly, lifting his hand to cradle the back of your head. His long fingers thread through your hair, soon pulling you gentle towards his face. You give no resistance, leaning down to bunt your forehead against his, both of you basking in the warmth of each other's affection.

“So,” you eventually begin, breaking the silence between you, “how do you feel about fall, Clippy? Did it measure up to the pictures in your books?”

The robot chuckles at you, a blush covering his own face as he responds, “I think it might just be my favorite season, sweetness.”

Oh, how you loved the fall.

[rabvan]

spymaster, becoming the doctor, and gardening – a little character study

anyone else obsessed with the master and margarita short story?? no?? just me?? oh well you’re getting a character analysis anyway, long rant about spymasters obsession with the doctor via mushrooms under the cut :3

tw for dissociation and substance induced hallucinations (weird ahh mushrooms as torture)

for those of you who haven’t read the master and margarita (i def recommend its super fun) it’s about what dhawan!master was doing during his 77 years on earth in that time skip during spyfall 2. he’s a mushroom farmer in russia, crazy hijinks and thoschei references ensue. maybe i’m going too deep into it but i really love the idea of him as a gardener and what that implies for everything we see in ttc/potd

i’d like to start with the fact that out of all the masters, dhawans is the one least confident in his identity. classic who masters and saxon held their title with pride with their “he’s the master and you will obey him” shtick. missy, even when she was debating her morality, never saw herself as anything other than missy. her title wasn’t being questioned, it was what she chose to do with it. meanwhile, spymaster just... loses himself after looking into the panopticon. he’s faced with the reality that the doctor is more important than he could ever be, and given that he sees his worth as interwoven with hers (the history between us, constantly refers back to their past/when they were equal), this makes him lose all sense of self. it used to be theta and koschei. the doctor and the master. now it’s just the timeless child and….. that’s it. there’s no significant place for him in her life. what’s he supposed to do now, when he’s based his whole history around her?

easy! fracture himself into different personalities, hide behind disguises (i mean, THREE disguises in one episode? calm down dude) in an attempt to hide his unimportance. while the timeless child is the story of child abuse and colonialism, a hurt the doctor will have to live with even if she can’t remember it, the master sees it as a triumph. he is lesser. she is the timeless child and she has existed forever and he is some dumb timelord who fell in love and meant nothing to her in the long-run. he feels like he’s not deserving of being in his own skin anymore so he hides behind whatever name and personality he can find.

but the thing about all his disguises is that they are so human. agent o, a shy little analyst at MI6 with the wide eyed stare and wits to be the doctor’s companion. rasputin, famous bachelor and a piece of history the doctor would notice. he says he despises humans but he dresses up as them because well, do you know who does love them? the doctor :(

which is why his name and intentions in the master and margarita are soooo so interesting to me. first off, his human alias is mikhail (“son of god”, writer of the og master and margarita) afanasyevich (“immortal”, also the og writer of master and margarita) gospodinov (roughly translated to “lord” and “master”). he steals a name, just like rasputin in potd, with a lot of weight on who he is right now. an emphasis on “immortal” “time lord” when hes dealing with the pressure of ttc. hes basically copying the doctor and making a title for himself like the ‘timeless child’ to feel equal again. it’s not the only time he copies the doctor either, hes basically working for “evil russian unit” in this short story. 

(remind you of anything?? yes im talking about the doctor-master. super cool foreshadowing on how hes been trying to become/be one with the doctor before potd)

and it’s literally in the text. the whole reason he spends months cultivating mushrooms for russia is to change history a bit so that jo grant’s marriage will be ruined. such a Doctor thing to do, kind of parallels clara and danny. to love a human is to be overly dramatic over them. the master, again, uses humans for his own benefit but has never been overly fond of them, with the exception of the doctors little companions. hes copying her again.

but the thing is, he keeps cultivating them. he gains a love for caring for them. mushrooms are just mushrooms until they arent. in a time where he thinks he’s the doctors opposite, he begins farming mushrooms bc of jo grant, a detail the doctor would remember just bc he misses her. he couldve spent his time escaping and getting back to his regular timeline to defeat the doctor, but he stayed. because of a human attachment. very doctor-y.

and if that bit of nostalgia wasn’t enough, he even hallucinates the third doctor in this. Which. okay. give me a non-thoschei explanation for this.

i just really like what that short story has to offer as far as the masters obsession with other people and his disguises go. and what it means for him to spend months of his live caring for something, like the doctor would, when all hes done before is kill. what does it mean for the champion of death to cultivate life :(

nyways, if you made it this far, i really hope you enjoyed !! i just love talking about spymaster can you tell lmfaooo and if you liked any of this id recommend reading the gardener by ritheh on ao3 which expands on his whole “killer heals for once” thing its soooo good <33 ok bye see u guys next time

[hodari-pavels-good-boy]

No okay so I could like POP OFF about all the little things that could be written off as quirks or just particularities if there was only one or two but when compounded together made me go OH. He's just like me fr 😭 (I am so sorry OP for hijacking your Autistic Hassian post bc you are so right and I could make a whole long ass post like this about him too. But I feel the need to spread the Hodari is also autstic and heres why propoganda)

-Food pickiness. He's sooo particular about what he eats, how its flavored, and even what he's willing to cook it on. Only spices from his hometown, only on a specific type of grill "no shortcuts", NO fish, same meals over and over again. There's also the underlying trend that undiagnosed adult men tend to lean towards that 'steak and potatoes' type food as a comfort food and while other characters will switch up the kind of food they want (change different entree type foods from soups to fish or sweets. Badruu, Chayne, and Ashura do this) Hodari almost always only will request steak dinner(or grilled meat i forget which lol) or sernuk stew. The food he'll gift you if you stop by at night for some "midnight meat" is also the steak. Man knows what he likes to eat and that's ALL he eats lol. (I also think its cute that he shows genuine concern if you tell him you don't eat breakfast and he forces you to take food and its just an egg lmaooo)

-He DOES find the town overwhelming. He tells the player he stopped coming in the evening and instead comes for lunch because its not busy and people wont talk to him. Even tells the player to leave him alone if they want to chat but if they want to eat lunch in silence with him they can pull up a chair. Kenyatta makes a comment about how "the miner and his daughter don't come into town much" and they don't talk a lot, assuming their house to always be silent. (lol. lmao even) He also only goes to the markets for Najuma. He doesn't like the noise and complains about the fireworks being "shot off every five minutes". While it is revealed by Najuma that he begrudgingly does enjoy coming, it's heavily implied that if left to his own devices he wouldn't be there. So sound and lots of people stress him tf out and he always seems significantly more 'gruff' during social situations like the market (swearing more "whole damn place smells like it"/kinda angry and screaming of sensory overload) or during town parties where he expresses discomfort than when talking to him when its just him

-Piggybacking off that, he NEEDS his alone time. He enjoys being down in the mines by himself where its just him and "the swing of the pickaxe. Nothing else matters". He also places really firm boundaries with the player if its too late and during his alone time that may come off as overly blunt or rude. "If you're here to talk to Najuma, go home it's past her bed time. If you're here to talk to me, don't". A valid boundary but can come across as a little harsh lol. especially in a game where most characters don't mind when you talk to them late at night or only have mild remarks of the time.

-Going off that, his social awkwardness. Not super apparent immediately when we first meet him because we can write it off as he's busy (he is lol) and we are new. However pretty quickly it appears he has a bit of a chip on his shoulder compared to the other villagers (except Hassian lol) even though his character profile in the beginning tells you he seems like a nice neighbor who is "always willing to lend a helping hand". And while his direct words to the player seem to contradict that, the other villagers talk very friendly about him even though it becomes apparent he doesn't treat or talk about them any different than he does the player. He's just 'like that' and they love him all the same. He also only considers Zeki a friend but from talking with the other npcs we know he has drinking contests with Sifuu, plays cards (and wins) with Ashura, and Badruu loves to tell him jokes to try and get him to laugh (and holds it as a personal point of pride when he finally does lol) and they all consider him a friend. He struggles to emotionally connect to his daughter even though we see its not through a lack of willingness or trying. He's a very good dad but there's a large emotional gap that neither of them seem to be able to cross even though they're both trying. And this is all BEFORE you romance him. If you romance him the awkwardness gets SO much clearer. He takes your gift but doesn't immediately accept or reject it bc he's overwhelmed and put into a situation he wasn't expecting and doesn't have an appropriate reaction set aside to use in that moment (The masking falls). He has to seek the player out later to explain he's not rejecting them but is clearly very uncomfortable the whole time. He struggles A LOT with emotional intimacy and has to give himself little pep talks, out loud, when talking with the player. He fears the closeness and refuses to put a label on anything "you do what you want to do and I'll do what I want". Once he's comfortable however, he IMMEDIATLEY switches to a pet name (as opposed to other characters like Reth or Jel who were comfortable using pet names before ever romancing them) and tries to win your affection. He bakes you a heart shaped quiche and takes you on a "date" (where its quiet, private, and not around other people. And not in a we need to hide way but in a 'see all of town is overwhelming bullet point' way) where he was so excited to see the player he forgets the food. He gets so in his head and awkward that his daughter has to interfere SEVERAL times throughout the course of the relationship. He gets fixated on small details and creates 20 (i think? A lot at least lol) pins.

-Rigid schedule. Okay so bc its a video game all the npcs have a set time they go to places and do xyz things so that cant inherently be used BUT Hodari is one of the only ones who's schedule is talked about. He goes to town for lunch every. day. even though he loves to cook and complains how much he hates the walk into town (Najuma also tells us he hates going into town for things). There are comments of the time he wakes up, and how Najuma even shudders at the idea of having to wake him up if he slept in accidentally even though he doesn't go to work in the mines during the mornings and has a few hours before he even goes to the workshop showing this is a very self imposed and relied upon schedule that throws him off really bad if its not kept to.

okay i could probably keep going but this is already really long and I feel bad enough I hijacked the post a bit lol

Was playing Palia, and as I was flirting with Hassian, I came to the headcanon that he is Autistic

Source: I am Autistic and I said so /lh