#since she already cares about him at that point

[merchantziro]

I feel like adding to this...

Starting off with Ben, I definitely feel like he'd probably be a League contact in the same way Jenny is, but Ben isn't an official member since he's sticking with the Plumbers (did have Azmuth help patch the Omnitrix to connect to other JL Communicators though similar to how it's connected to Plumber's Badgers, easier for Ben to keep track of that way.) and the Plumbers fall into an area where they deal with intergalactic threats just as much as the Lanterns do and not strictly tied to the Justice League.

Now Kevin Levin however... I can 100% see being a mechanic who helps tune up and repair Justice League vehicles such as spaceships. Not to mention he probably conveniently knows a lot of stuff about alien technology, illegal parts, and the alien criminal underworld. (He probably gets along well with Plastic Man in that regard as former criminals turned heroes, or at least retired hero in Kev's case)

Granted he's probably one of the individuals the League is more "in the know" of since Ben himself is a world famous hero but since the attention was more on Ben and Kevin stopped being near him as much ever since Omniverse, when he found a home and job so he could stay close to Gwen's campus while she was at college, and Ben's partner became Rook.

Also I want to imagine as an alternative to Ben himself, you have Albedo working on the Watchtower. Not fully redeemed mind you, just on parole but the Plumbers didn't need any more Galvans so the Justice League was the next best choice for keeping an eye on him (maybe that's why Kevin is there), still stuck as a 10 Year Old Ben which also makes getting taken seriously difficult by the heroes and other geniuses when he gives his input.

Of course all it takes is one comment about cursing this stupid body and mentioning he's a clone technically speaking that Danny "My daughter/sister/cousin/it's complicated is my clone" Fenton and Conner "Clone of Superman who definitely had a strained relationship for a time but made it work eventually" Kent to immediately begin working on a clone support group for other clones (assuming they didn't already have one ready).

So you could make a case for him at least slipping through the cracks somewhat for at least a decent chunk of the League.

I also like to imagine that alongside Dipper and Randy in Archives is Dib Membrane, but one who is relatively more chilled out by this point ever since Zim basically proved himself to no longer be a threat to the world (whether he's basically quit his Irken invasion plans once he finally truly realized the Tallest had no care for Earth or just got caught by the Plumbers or Lanterns is up to you).

Since then Dib has been more active in researching the Supernatural after aliens and magic became more public knowledge in the wake of Superheroes, no less crazy than before mind you... But at least he's calmed down once he's felt vindicated by being proven he was right about SOME stuff.

Sunset Shimmer meanwhile... Considering she lives in the DC Universe here and there are PLENTY of magic users, I can see her studying in the background at some point once the knowledge of magic becomes more public. Maybe learn to tap into that Pony-Up form she has and regain access to her original Unicorn magic power. Probably also helps Dipper, Randy, and Dib on the side as another Supernatural magic expert with knowledge she's retained from Equestria, she was Princess Celestia's student before Twilight after all.

Also all I can imagine is Sunset realizing when a situation gets BAD enough that she has to send an SOS for backup from Twilight using that magic book of hers that's connected to another in Equestria.

The League rumors run WILD after the fact when Shimmer snitches to a post timeskip Twilight Sparkle about a big bad guy they need help with, and suddenly you have an Alicorn Princess just show up out of nowhere with the rest of the Mane 6 in tow, 100% prepared to nuke the sucker with the Magic of Friendship to just turn them to stone or maybe banish them by sealing them inside moon or sun if you want, then immediately say hi and bye to Sunset as they leave without explaining anything.

There was also the mention of Spud from Jake Long: American Dragon and I can imagine Jake himself, as the (potentially former) American Dragon of the World Dragons, is just there to help Dipper and Dib in archiving as he writes down what he knows of the Supernatural. The Justice League Dark takes a long time to realize Jake, as well as probably Dipper, Danny, Randy, Juniper, Sunset, and Dib are adding these notes the JLD don't remember writing themselves.

However I would also like to add for consideration...

A guy who was formerly a scholar that researched bugs, before eventually getting a job on the Watchtower helping the other Supernatural Experts in archiving though his specialization appears to be with more in the realm of Ki/Chi and such, however you would also find him working near the Gym in his off hours.

The rumors only started for him when he was caught lifting a dumbbell with one hand while reading with an old martial arts book in the other, before eventually swapping hands as he seemed preoccupied to notice.

...A dumbbell designed specifically for the Supers and Wonders.

So yeah Mr. Gohan Son became the new hot topic of the rumors while he was getting along great with the rest of his fellow employees. I can see him getting along great and even seeming delighted by discussions with other Ki/Chi users such as Jake with his Human Chi and Dragon Chi, probably mentioning his father and Vegeta having both Mortal Ki and Godly Ki as a result of ascending into Gods themselves. A discussion that leads to more wild speculation from almost every single person in earshot, probably about Gohan being a Demi-God son of a God, and the speculation comes to Sun Wukong due to Gohan talking about his father Goku and his adventures with a magical staff, a magic cloud, and his monkey tail.

However despite the Great Saiyaman being retired mostly, Gohan does remain semi-active as a protector of Earth when needed. But the Z-Fighters aren't exactly in the public eye much and Gohan looks way different from when did at the Cell Games as the Golden Fighter, that it was easy for people to overlook him.

On a side note. I imagine him working on his book, Groundbreaking Science, on the side. A book from Dragon Ball Online talking about his research into the nature of ki and of the martial arts of the past that was popular and helped introduce the concept of ki to the general population of Earth in a possible future at least. Though here it would probably have other information and such thanks to the input from others knowledgeable on Ki/Chi on the Watchtower that Gohan talked to.

However I also imagine how terrible an idea that would be with the amount of villains on Earth there are already, like we don't need a super powered Joker flying around.

Not to mention the Bats especially with how much of a menace they would become if they learned how to manipulate Ki to fly and fire energy blasts, they're already scary enough as like PEAK Human in their world. And Super Kami Dende help you if these fuckers learned the Kaioken because you KNOW they're gonna push it to borderline suicidal lengths.

They are gonna be on the edge of killing themselves between potential Ki Overuse and the Kaioken so much, that I can already feel Alfred's ghost approaching me with the shotgun for writing this.

Anyway... I can only imagine the gagglefuck of retired teen heroes and such just forming their own mini branch of the Justice League in the same way the Justice League Dark, Young Justice, and Teen Titans are. Probably also have Ben, Jenny, and Kim as well since, even if they're not fully retired, it's not uncommon to see them come up from time to time to visit their respective friends/family or need to talk to one of the Justice League members in person about something (or a combination where they ignore "the experts" to get the input of one of the retired ex-teen heroes instead).

Most of them, they're the ones you call when you need advice or assistance with any random thing because many have varying knowledge and at least one can usually help in any niche subject. But they also are a last resort call for World Ending "All Hands on Deck" emergencies when they're in some real shit.

Short DPXDC Prompts #648

The League gets incredibly concerned that their main tech mechanic, Danny Fenton, has instances of his heart or breathing randomly stopping. His skin is cold as ice and his skin is deathly pale.

Danny didn’t realize that the League doesn’t look at hiring applications. If they did they would have seen that he put being a half ghost on his resume.

[lupinqs]

CHAPTER TEN ━━ The Introduction

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: allusions to sex, alcohol consumption

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: hehe

IT’S FRIDAY, December 2nd, and UConn just annihilated Providence. Jo played out of her mind, as she always does. Of course, Paige is proud. Of course she is. But both her performance and the team win can’t really make this might feel like a victory for Paige to bask in. 

Currently, she’s standing in Nika’s kitchen, staring down at the cup full of Everclear in her hand. The liquid inside is dangerous, too strong for her, and yet she’s already downed three or four shots. She doesn’t even like it. In fact, she usually avoids this shit like the plague. But tonight, it’s the only thing she can think of to numb her, the only thing that might be able to quiet the anxious, suffocating storm inside her chest.

It’s almost laughable, really, how predictable she is. How every time Jo does something—breathes, laughs, smiles—Paige feels like she’s suffocating just a little more. It’s insane. They’re best friends. They’ve been living together since May. She’s seen every side of Jo—the silly, the serious, the completely ridiculous.

Well, every side except the one she shares with Asher.

Because Paige still hasn’t met him.

She’s seen all the pictures, of course—the one’s on Jo’s Instagram, the one that Jo has as her lock screen, the one framed in Jo’s family’s house back in Boston, the one perched on Jo’s desk in their apartment. She hears about him a God awful lot, too. She’s seen Jo text him, call him. She’s listened to Jo gush about him and their future while Paige is just… there. Watching Listening. Seeing Jo get lost in that perfect, fairytale love that Paige will never be a part of.

The rest of the team, on the other hand, have already met the damn boy. Back in October, while Paige was in LA rehabbing, he’d come up to visit Jo, and they’d met him. And, of course, they all informed Paige of how kind and charming and absolutely perfect for Jo he was.

And, tonight, it seems that Paige has finally met her dues. Because he’s coming to Ted’s with Jo, to hang out with the team.

Okay, it’s not that Paige wants to hate Asher. He hasn’t done anything to her, not really. She just doesn’t want to see it. Doesn’t want to see the joy and adoration in Jo’s eyes when she’s with him. Doesn’t want to see her look at someone else the way she’ll never look at Paige.

That’s why she’s standing here in Nika’s kitchen, holding the cup of Everclear like it’s a lifeline. She’s downed drink after drink, trying to numb herself before the night really starts. She needs something to take the edge off. Anything to make the world feel a little less sharp, a little less raw.

So, Paige reaches for the bottle again, pouring herself another cup, her hand unsteady from the alcohol already coursing through her veins. She doesn’t even care that she’s probably about to get way too drunk to function. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not when she’s about to experience first-hand the perfect, romcom, movie-like romance of Jo and Asher.

As Paige pours the drink, she doesn’t even hear Caroline approach. It’s not until the sophomore’s hand wraps around her wrist that Paige jerks back, spilling some of the alcohol across the counter. “Bro!” she exclaims, frustration creeping into her voice as she whips her head to glare at Caroline. “What the hell?”

Caroline narrows her eyes, and the look she gives Paige is one of irritation, not amusement. “What are you doing?” she demands, voice tight. “You’re gonna be wasted before we even get to Ted’s. Besides, you don’t even like this shit!” She gestures to the bottle of Everclear in Paige’s hand, her gaze pointed.

Paige rolls her eyes. “Nah, don’t do that with me, Carol,” she says, her voice flat and cold, the words rolling off her tongue like venom. “I’m older than you. If you wanna mother someone, go find the freshmen.”

Caroline doesn’t flinch at Paige’s outburst. Instead, she just rolls her eyes back, her expression practically dripping with exasperation. Then, with one swift motion, she gives Paige a quick shove on the shoulder, a mockery of affection that’s meant to get her attention but only serves to make Paige more frustrated. “No,” Caroline says, her tone laced with that same tired edge. “I’m gonna mother because clearly you need it!”

The words land like a slap, stinging more than Paige expects. Yes, she knows she’s not being entirely responsible, but also—when has she been? It’s sort of in her nature to be irresponsible, so she’s not sure how this is any different. But is is. And she doesn’t even know why.

There’s a long pause. Too long. It stretches between them like a chasm, and Paige can feel the moment hanging in the air like it’s about to swallow her whole. She thinks Caroline might be done. She thinks the conversation might be over.

But it’s not. Caroline is not finished.

“Look,” the brunette says, her voice gentler now, but still firm. “I know you’re, like, totally in love with Jo and all, but please, Paige, get yourself together.”

Almost instantly, Paige stills. It’s as if the entire world falls silent in an instant. The sound of her pulse fills her ears, louder than anything else. Her mind goes blank for a moment, and then the words slowly filter through. Caroline knows. Paige has been so careful recently to pretend, pretend, pretend. But Caroline’s still seen through it.

Fuck.

“Wha—? How did you know that?” Paige’s voice comes out high-pitched, more frantic than she wants it to be. She feels like she’s suffocating, like she’s about to drown in the truth that’s just been laid bare. “Did Azzi tell you? Aubrey?” The thought of anyone else but the two of them knowing, of anyone else seeing what she’s been trying to hide, is bad. It’s what Paige imagines standing in front of a crowded room, naked, while everyone stares at her would feel like.

Caroline gives her a look. “No, dumbass,” she deadpans. “I figured it out myself. You’re not very subtle.”

As if it were possible, Paige’s stomach seems to drop even more at the simplicity of it all. Because Caroline’s right, just as Aubrey and Azzi both had been. Paige isn’t subtle. She never has been. The way she looks at Jo, the way her face burns every time Jo smiles at her, the way she seems to track everything Jo doesn’t without even meaning to—none of it is subtle.

She groans, a frustrated sound that escapes her before she can stop it. She leans forward, her palms flat against the counter as she rests her forehead against the cool surface. She’s so tired. Tired of pretending, tired of fighting the feeling that never goes away. And now, with Caroline’s words hanging before her, she knows it’s probably only a matter of time before Jo figured it out, too. Before Jo realizes what Paige has been hiding, and everything goes to shit. Jesus Christ, she’s gonna have to transfer.

Caroline doesn’t let the silence linger for too long, though. “Okay, yeah,” she says, her voice softening a little. “I know it sucks. I get it.” She takes a deep breath, and Paige can hear the sympathy in her voice, the understanding. “And I’m sorry you have to see Jo with Asher while you like her. But, please, get yourself together. Because she’s so excited for you to meet him, and if you’re drunk off your mind when you do, you’re probably just gonna embarrass yourself and her. Do you wanna do that?”

Caroline’s right. Of course she is. Paige can imagine herself meeting Asher, entirely wasted, and saying some stupid shit that would have him grimacing at her and Jo flushing with embarrassment over the fact that this drunk girl before them is supposed to be her best friend. It would be wrong and selfish to do that. But it’s gonna be so hard to do it and act normal. She knows she swore she would take Jo in whatever way she’ll give her—and she still stands by that—but that doesn’t mean she has any desire to meet her boyfriend. Because she just doesn’t. She’s truly not sure she can. 

She doesn’t respond right away. Instead, she just stays there, head pressed against the counter, trying to will sway the stupid, hot tears that begin to form in her eyes. She can’t cry here. It’s fucking stupid.

Eventually, after blinking the tears away, Paige begrudgingly shakes her head. “No,” she mutters under her breath, the words barely audible. “I don’t wanna do that.”

Caroline pats her on the back. “That’s what I thought.”

PAIGE LISTENS. She’s being good. She’s only slightly tipsy, every so often taking sips of her Dirty Shirley. She’s doing her best to integrate herself into the team’s conversation around her, despite her uncharacteristic anxiousness. She tries to will her gaze to stop flicking toward the door. It doesn’t work; her mind is already rehearsing every possible scenario when Jo and Asher walk in.

“Aye, JoJo just said they should be here any minute!” Ice says loudly, reading a text off her phone. The rest of the team, half-fueled by the alcohol running through their bloodstream, lets out a few cheers.

Azzi, who’s across from Paige and who Paige can tell is almost entirely sober, meets her eyes. She title her head, giving her a look as if to say you good? The blonde gives her a tight nod. She will be good. She’s gonna keep it together, it’ll be fine. It’s just one night, one introduction. After that, she can pretend none of it matters. She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Asher.

But even as she tells herself that, her pulse begins to quicken, the seconds ticking by too slowly as she waits for the pair to walk through that door. And, when they finally do, it’s not the way she thought it would be. She expected her heart to sink, her breath to catch, but what happens instead is worse. Her skin tingles, and her chest feels too tight, like her ribs are being squeezed, her lungs struggling for air. Jo walks in first, her laugh ringing out across the bar like it’s some beautiful melody that Paige can’t stop hearing. And then there’s Asher, in the flesh, right behind her. His arm is casually draped over Jo’s shoulder, and the two of them look so natural, so right together that it makes Paige feel like she’s been hit with a sucker punch to the gut.

They’re happy. It’s blatantly obvious in the way they move together, the way Asher’s hand rests lightly on Jo’s shoulder, the way they share that easy, carefree smile, as if nothing in the world could ruin this moment for them. Paige’s vision sharpens, the edge of the bar blurring as the urge to shrink away into herself rises up like an overwhelming tide. She wants to leave, to disappear, to drink so much she blacks out and dies.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Jo and Asher head straight toward the team, where they stand in the back corner. Paige forces herself to appear nonchalant like always, her back pressed against the bar wall, her fingers gripping the edge of her drink. The others begin to greet the pair quickly, all laughing and chatting with him so easily and fast it almost gives Paige whiplash. Within a minute, he already fits in so seamlessly—and Paige hates if. She hates the way he’s making them all laugh, the way he’s charming without even trying, the way everyone seems to like him so easily. Things would be so much easier for Paige if he was just some shitty douchebag boy.

But then Jo’s eyes find hers, that smile spreading across her face, and all thoughts of the boy flee for a short moment. It’s that smile only for her, only for Paige. She’s reserved it.

Paige feels her heart leap, an automatic reaction that she can’t stop, especially with alcohol in her system. She doesn’t know if Jo can see it, the way her face softens at the sight of her, but Paige knows her smile is already in place, even if it feels a little strained, like her cheeks might crack under the pressure.

Paige watches as Jo grabs onto Asher’s wrist, pulling him so they’re both face to face with Paige. “Paige! This is Asher!” she exclaims excitedly, and it’s adorable, it really is, the way her doe eyes shine at Paige, twinkling.

With some effort, the blonde forces her gaze from Jo to the boy beside her. “Hey, bro,” Paige says, her voice coming out a little higher than she intended, but she doesn’t let it show. She forces the words out, the greeting she’s practiced a thousand times too many.

“Nice to meet you,” she adds. It’s a lie. Of course.

Asher nods, his hand extending to shake hers. It makes everything inside Paige write. He’s not just some asshole she can dismiss; he’s the guy who makes Jo happy. And in the face of that, what does Paige have to offer? Absolutely nothing.

“Yeah, you too,” Asher replies, his smile wide, genuine. Fuck, he really is likable. It makes everything worse. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Stupidly, Paige can feel her heart skip a beat. He’s heard about her. Jo’s talked about her. The thought of it makes her skin flush, and she glances at Jo, who’s standing just a little too close to Asher, her eyes sparkling. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, just enough for Paige to notice.

Hm.

Jo’s talked about her. Jo’s talked about her. It’s an absurdly stupid thing to obsess over, because, yes, it would only make sense that Jo has talked about her. They’re roommates, for God’s sakes.

But then, just as quickly, it all comes rushing back—the overwhelming knowledge that it just doesn’t matter. Because Jo has Asher.

Paige’s hand in tightens slightly around her drink, and she forces her smile to stay in place. “I bet,” she says, before gesturing to Jo. “She’s a yapper.”

Asher’s grin widens, and he nods in agreement. He glances down at Jo for a moment, and Paige can see the faint sparkle in his own eyes. It makes her sick. “Yeah, she is,” he chuckles. Of course he would know that. He knows everything. Certainly more than Paige (except how to make a girl cum—though, at this point, she supposes it can’t even apply to the situation). But he’s been there. For everything. Since the fucking sandbox days. It’s not something Paige can even remotely compete with.

She needs another drink.

JO SITS awkwardly in the booth at Ted’s, wedged between Asher and Paige. It’s not even that the space is tight—there’s room enough for the three of them, probably room for one more—but the proximity feels off, almost claustrophobic. She shifts in her seat, feeling the edge of Asher’s knee against hers, and Paige’s shoulder brushing lightly against her own. All of it—the heat from their bodies, the weight of their presence—is somehow making her feel small, like there’s no space for her in this conversation.

Asher, ever the extrovert, is holding court with Paige, talking on and on about college football rankings and how Penn State (where he goes to school) is sure to win their bowl game. Jo tries to listen and engage, but the topic doesn’t interest her. Basketball is far superior to football. But she still follows along, because Asher’s so into it, so excited to share his thoughts, and Paige—who, as usual, is completely unfazed by the world around her—responds with that ease that always leaves Jo wanting more.

Jo feels herself sinking lower in the booth, staring at her drink. It’s a cranberry vodka, something that feels sweet on her tongue. She takes another sip—maybe too quickly—and feels the alcohol warm her from the inside out. It helps dull the growing discomfort, but it doesn’t erase it. The tightness in her chest persists, a strange, insistent thing that makes her shift again, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable.

She doesn’t know why she feels this way. She should be happy. She should be enjoying this. After all, she’s the one who was so eager to introduce Asher and Paige, so excited to see her favorite people meet and get along. So why does it feel… wrong now? Why does it feel like she doesn’t belong?

It’s not jealousy. No, not even close. She’s fine with Asher and Paige talking. She’s good with it. She wants them to like each other. She’s been waiting for this, hoping for it. But still… the weight of their conversation feels like it’s too much for her to hear, even if she can’t articulate why. It’s the way they’re so at ease with each other, like they’ve known each other for years, and Jo feels like she’s just a spectator, stuck in the middle. Paige is talking about football like she’s always been passionate about it, and Jo wonders if she even really cares or if she’s just being her usual, charismatic self, making everyone around her feel like they’re the most important person in the room.

She doesn’t know why this feels so weird, so odd. It’s almost as if the booth is too small for the three of them, like either Asher of Paige needs to move out of it so Jo can finally breathe again. She just doesn’t get it.

Asher keeps talking, oblivious to the tension knotting in Jo’s stomach. She can tell he’s enjoying himself, that he’s happy to be here, happy to be connecting with Paige. He’s wanted to ever since he’s realized how close she and Jo are, not to mention the fact that he’s a big fan of Paige’s game—which, valid. And Paige, of course, is just as nonchalant as always. She’s good at this—at making people feel seen and heard, like she’s the only person in the room that matters.

Jo tries to keep her smile in place, but she knows it’s not quite reaching her eyes. Every time Paige laughs, it hits something inside her she can’t explain, some quiet ache. Every time Asher leans in closer to Paige, every time they lock eyes, Jo feels a small, gnawing discomfort in the pit of her stomach. Not jealousy, just… something else. Something she doesn’t want to name.

Paige’s voice cuts through her thoughts, and Jo snaps back to the moment. “I’mma go get another Shirley,” the blonde says easily, pushing herself up from the booth. Jo watches her walk away, feeling a strange sense of relief mixed with the sudden urge to grab Paige’s hand and pull her right back. So weird.

Asher’s voice suddenly cuts through the murmur of chatter, causing Jo’s head to snap toward him. He’s looking at her now, his brow furrowed in that way he gets when he’s concerned. “Babe, you good? You been kinda, like… quiet?”

Jo forces a smile, the expression coming easy enough but feeling unnatural on her lips. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she can feel it, can feel the way he’s watching her, sensing something is off. Why am I being like this? She doesn’t know.

“Yeah, let’s go dance,” she says, the words sounding too breezy. Asher doesn’t seem to notice, though, his smile brightening. He takes her hand in his, tugging her up from the booth.

They make their way to the dance floor, and Jo feels the heat of the crowd, the heavy bass that vibrates in her chest. She tries to lose herself in it, tries to let the rhythm take over. Asher’s hands find her waist, guiding her gently, pulling her closer as they fall into the music. She moves with him, tries to feel the warmth of his body, the comfort of being with him. It’s weird, though, because the steps feel a little too quick, like she’s trying to make her body fit the rhythm of something that feels off.

Her gaze drifts without meaning to. It’s not even something she consciously does, it just happens, as her eyes scan the room, taking in the crowd of people. And then, they land at the bar.

Paige is there, talking with someone Jo doesn’t recognize at first. But when she squints her eyes, trying to make sense of the redhead leaning over the counter, she realizes it’s Celeste. She watches, captivated for reasons she doesn’t understand, as Celeste leans in closer to Paige, her fingers brushing along Paige’s arm. Jo doesn’t really like that. She should stop watching.

But she doesn’t. And the longer she stares, the more that strange feelings gnaws at her. She can’t tear her gaze away, even though she tries. It’s weird and wrong, Jo knows, watching her best friend cook up her nightly fuck—because, surely, that’s what this is.

And then, just as if she’s been caught, Paige’s eyes meet here. Jo feels her heart skip a beat. Her cheeks instantly flush, her gaze jerking away from Paige’s with an awkwardness she doesn’t understand.

Bur when she dares to glance back, she finds Paige still looking at her, her gaze steady, unwavering. There’s something about the way Paige is staring, like she’s waiting for Jo to react, to do something, anything. Jo feels herself shift uneasily under that gaze, her skin heating as though she’s been caught in something she shouldn’t have been.

She looks away again, closing her eyes briefly as she tries to focus more intently on the movement of Asher’s hands on her hips, on the way he’s leading her in a slow circle. She tries to focus on the feel of his body close to hers, tries to drown out the memory of Paige’s eyes. But Jo’s thoughts are all scattered, her focus slipping like sand through her fingers.

The music changes, the beat shifting, becoming more sensual, slower. Asher leans in closer, his lips brushing against Jo’s ear, and he whispers in that low voice that always makes her shiver, “You wanna go back to yours?”

Jo nods automatically, because, yes, she really needs to leave this place.

As they move through the crowd, heading for the exit, Jo sneaks one last glance at the bar. She’s hoping for something—she doesn’t even know what—but Paige’s attention is elsewhere, focused on Celeste now. Jo feels a pang, but it’s fleeting, and she brushes it off with a shrug, tightening her grip on Asher’s hand.

“I’MMA GO get another Shirley,” Paige says, pushing herself out of the booth before either Jo or Asher can respond. She’s already halfway out by the time the words fully register with them, and she doesn’t wait to hear what they might say. For obvious reasons, talking to Asher has drained her. They’ve been going on and on about football, and it just got to a point. Not to mention the fact that Jo was between them, the whole right side of her body pressed against Asher, his arm casually slung over her shoulders.

Paige tries not to think too hard about it. She’s fine. She’s so fine, in fact, that she decides she needs another drink.

The bar is crowded, but Paige carves her way through the bodies easily. She leans against the counter, resting her forearms on the sticky surface as she flags down the bartender. She orders another Dirty Shirley, and then a shot of tequila because, well, it’s just one of those nights.

Paige exhales and lets herself sink into the moment—the crowd, the pounding bass of the music, the buzz of alcohol in her system. She tries to think about anything but the happy couple she’d been forced to hang out with for far longer than she’d planned.

Her drink arrives, the tequila shot placed next to it. She picks up the shot glass without hesitation, throwing it back quickly. The burn hits her immediately, sharp and biting, but she welcomes it. She needs it. The glass clinks against the bar as she sets it down, and she picks up her Shirley, sipping it to chase the tequila’s lingering heat.

“Hey, P,” a voice says from beside her, catching her off guard.

Paige turns, her brown furrowing for a split second before her expression smooths out. It’s Celeste. Of course.

“Hey,” Paige says casually, as if the sight of the redhead doesn’t throw her a little off balance for a moment. She’s not surprised Celeste is here—she’s always around. She’s also not surprised when Celeste slides closer, her lips curving into a smile that Paige knows all too well.

“You celebrating the win?” Celeste asks, her voice light, flirtatious. Paige has to give her credit, if she’s honest, because, really, this girl never gives up, no matter how hot and cold Paige is.

And, if Paige is even more honest, Celeste looks good. Better than good. She’s wearing some kind of black corset top that pushes her tits up in a way that’s impossible not to notice, her bright red hair perfectly blown out, and her makeup flawless even in the hazy lighting of Ted’s.

“Something like that,” Paige replies, her words accompanied by a small shrug. She takes another sip of her drink, letting the alcohol settle over her like a warm blanket.

Celeste doesn’t waste any time. She leans forward, her hand brushing against Paige’s arm in a way that’s calculated. “You looked good on the bench tonight. I posted a couple shots that the cameras got of you,” she says lowly.

Paige nearly snorts at the words—you looked good on the bench tonight. That’s what she’s been reduced to, a pretty bench-warmer, too injured and useless to be anywhere but on it. But she doesn’t laugh. Because she knows exactly what Celeste is doing. And under normal circumstances, she might be annoyed—Celeste has a habit of getting too attached, of acting like there’s more between them than there really is. But tonight, Paige is a little drunk, a little tired, and more than a little tempted to let herself fall into the distraction Celeste is offering. She was already planning on fucking someone tonight, and Celeste? Well, she’s right here, looking like that. Why not?

So, Paige smiles, tilting her head just slightly, enough to give the redhead the impression that she’s been hooked. “Yeah?” she says playfully, teasingly. “Didn’t know you were paying that much attention.”

Celeste laughs a little, leaning even closer, and Paige can feel the way her fingers linger on her arm. She plays along, letting herself fall into the conversation, the push and pull of flirtation. It’s easier to think about other things.

But, of course, somehow, her focus still seems to slip.

Over Celeste’s shoulder, Paige catches a glimpse of the dance floor. Her eyes find Jo and Asher almost instantly, like she was looking for them without even realizing it. They’re dancing, their bodies close, their smiles easy. They look happy. They look like they belong together. And it makes Paige want to puke.

She tries to look away, tries to focus on Celeste, on the warmth of her hand still on her arm, on the sharp curve of her smile. But she can’t. Her eyes keep drifting back to Jo, drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

And then, suddenly, Jo looks over. Their eyes meet across the room, and Celeste blurs into the background beside Paige like she was never even there. Paige should look away, should stop staring. But she doesn’t. Her eyes stay locked on Jo’s, rooted there.

But then Jo breaks the connection, her gaze shifting away, and Paige is left staring at nothing. She feels an idiotic pang, and forced herself to take another sip of her drink.

Celeste seems to notice, her head turning to follow Paige’s line of sight. Her eyes land on Jo and Asher, and she tilts her head as she turns back to Paige. “Is that Jo’s boyfriend?” she asks.

Paige nods. “Yup. His name’s Asher.” She forces her voice to sound calm and unaffected, even though saying his name feels like she’s choking on something too sharp to swallow.

Celeste hums slowly in response. She pauses for a moment, and Paige can feel her gaze, sharp and curious, boring into her. “So… you and Jo are, like, best friends, right?” Her tone is casual, but there’s something suspicious laced beneath it, like she’s fishing for something Paige doesn’t want to give.

Paige nods again, slower this time, turning her head to glance at Celeste. “Yeah…” she says, the word dragging out of her like it takes effort to say. She wonders where this is going.

“Well,” Celeste begins, tipping her shot glass back and setting it down with a faint clink. “I ask her about you sometimes, and she never really gives me a clear answer. I can tell she tries to be nice to me, but it doesn’t really seem like she likes me much.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at that, her instinct to defend Jo kicking in automatically. “Nah, Jo likes everyone,” she says, waving Celeste off with a dismissive hand. And it’s true—Jo does like everyone.

But Celeste shakes her head, her red hair catching the light. “I don’t know,” she says thoughtfully. “For a while, I kinda thought you and her were a thing.”

The words hit Paige like a slap, and she chokes on the sip of her Shirley she just took, coughing as she sets her glass down hard on the bar. “What—?” she manages to get out, her voice rough and disbelieving. Her heart is pounding so loudly in her chest she’s sure Celeste can hear it.

Celeste shrugs, her expression almost too nonchalant, like she knows exactly what kind of chaos she’s causing. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I just kinda got that vibe. But if she’s got a boyfriend and we’ve fucked a couple times recently… I guess I was wrong.”

Paige blinks at her, wide-eyed. “You definitely were,” she says quickly, the words tumbling out too fast, too eager to set the record straight. Her face is flushed, and she can feel the heat crawling up her neck. “We’re just friends. Nothing more. At all.”

The words feel heavy in her mouth, bitter and thick. They’re not a lie, no matter how much Paige sometimes wishes it could be.

She doesn’t miss the way Celeste studies her, her green eyes narrowing slightly, like she’s trying to figure out if Paige is telling the truth. Paige hates how exposed she feels, like someone on the outside—someone as far removed as Celeste—can somehow sense the mess of feelings she’s been trying so hard to bury.

She forces herself to take a large gulp of her Shirley, the alcohol doing little to ease the tightness in her stomach. When she glanced back at the dance floor, her eyes automatically searched for Jo, she realizes that she’s—and Asher—are gone from their previous spot.

Her gaze flickers around the bar, scanning the corners, but they’re nowhere to be found. Probably went to go fuck, she thinks bitterly. Even though she has insight now that Asher is basically terrible at it, the idea still makes Paige want to die.

But she doesn’t. Obviously.

Instead, she finishes the last of her drink, turning her attention back to the girl next to her, forcing her signature smirk back onto her lips. Jo’s gone, busy with him, and Paige doesn’t owe anyone anything.

She leans into the conversation, matching Celeste’s flirtation with her own, their banter growing looser and bolder with each drink they down. The alcohol is certainly doing it’s job, blurring the edges of her thoughts, making everything feel distant and less painful.

Unexpectedly, Paige ends up in Celeste’s bed. And, also unexpectedly, she thinks about brown hair and doe eyes during the entirety of it.

JO LIES tangled in the sheets with Asher, her head resting on his bare chest, his arm wrapped around her back. It’s around four, she thinks, and the world outside feels impossibly quiet at this hour, the kind of stillness that comes only in the dead of night. Asher’s fingers trace slow, lazy patterns along her shoulder, his touch featherlight and soothing.

The haze of the night has mostly worn off now—the alcohol burned away by time, replaced by a comfortable clarity that feels almost foreign after hours of noise and chaos. It’s just the two of them now, alone in her room, their breaths in sync, the moment easy and weightless and familiar.

Jo closes her eyes, letting herself drift in the warmth of his presence, but her mind doesn’t quiet as easily as her body does. It’s almost like something beneath the surges won’t let her fully settle. It’s not unease, exactly. Not suspicion. Just… something. A restlessness she can’t name.

“Okay, I gotta piss,” Asher says suddenly, breaking the silence.

Jo snorts, her eyes fluttering open as she turns her head to look up at him. “Way to ruin the moment,” she teases, though her voice is laced with affection.

Asher grind down at her, unapologetic as he shifts, moving to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Nature calls,” he jokes. He starts to stand, but Jo catches his wrist, tugging him back down for just a second.

“Put some clothes on first,” she reminds him. “Paige got back a little bit ago.” She’d heard the door open, the quiet shuffle of footsteps as Paige made her way to her room. It was probably a half an hour ago, maybe less, and Jo had listened, wondering how Paige’s night had gone, whether she’d been alone or gone back with the team or left with Celeste.

Asher groans playfully, leaning down to peck Jo’s lips. “I will, I will,” he promises, his voice low and warm.

Jo rolls her eyes but can’t help the soft laugh truth escapes her. “You’d better,” she says, swatting lightly at his bare chest.

He smirks before gathering his clothes from the floor. Jo watches him for a moment, her head propped on her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. He looks good, his hair messy, his lips still swollen pink from all the kissing. And he’s here—he’s always been hers. She knows she should feel lucky.

When he leaves the bedroom to disappear into the bathroom, Jo sighs and sits up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. The cool air against her skin makes her shiver, so she grabs the first things she can find—a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants from her drawer. She pulls them on quickly, then settles back on the bed, folding her legs beneath her as she waits for Asher to return.

The sharp buzz of a phone notification catches her attention, the sound loud in the quiet.

Instinctively, Jo reaches over to the nightstand, assuming it’s hers. She picks up the phone without thinking, the screen lighting up in her hand—and stops short.

The message isn’t hers.

Her heart stills in her chest, her breath halting for a moment as she stares at the screen. Without thinking, she presses on the contact, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling, unraveling everything she thought she knew in an instant.

She doesn’t notice the sound of the bathroom door opening, doesn’t register Asher’s footsteps until they’re right at her bedroom door.

And then she hears his voice, soft and unsuspecting. “What’s wrong?”

[girllblogging777]

𝐵𝐴𝐶𝐾𝑆𝑇𝐴𝐺𝐸 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐸𝑁𝐴𝐷𝐸

↳ famous mattheo riddle x journalist reader

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.5k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : falling for the lead singer of the band… except you should keep things professional

(part 1 here, you don’t necessarily need to read it)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the final chords of the silver dominion’s encore reverberated through the venue, the sound rippling through your chest like a heartbeat. the crowd roared its approval, screaming for more even as the stage lights dimmed. you stood on the edge of the chaos, still reeling from this evening’s events. the review you were supposed to be writing felt impossibly distant, as if the energy in the room had swallowed it whole.

you had been trying to focus all night. trying to keep things professional. but since you had interviewed the band earlier, mattheo riddle hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you. his dark gaze locking onto yours, his mouth curling in that infuriating smirk, it became harder to remember you were supposed to be working.

the opening notes of one of their most famous songs began and the audience erupted, screaming the lyrics before mattheo had even sung the first line. he smirked at the noise, but when it was time for the verse, he stumbled.

he should have sung “I’ve been searching for something I’ll never find,” but instead, he hesitated, his lips parting as if the words had completely slipped his mind. the band played on, unfazed, but mattheo looked straight at you, his smirk turning sharp as he improvised.

“she’s got me tied, got me blind,

can’t think straight, she’s all on my mind.

should I blame the music, or blame her smile ?

guess I’ll be lost for a little while.”

the crowd roared, hands in the air as if this was part of the plan, but you knew better. mattheo gave you a pointed look, his grin crooked and entirely too self-satisfied as the crowd screamed louder.

your cheeks burned, your heart hammering as he turned back to the mic and slid seamlessly into the real lyrics, the moment passing like smoke. but when his lips twitched into another smirk as he looked over his shoulder, you couldn’t stop the breathless laugh that escaped you.

prowling the stage like he owned it, the collar of his shirt loose enough to reveal the ink trailing across his chest, mattheo riddle looked like a vision. but he had missed his line on purpose. and the worst part ? he knew it had worked.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

later, as the lights began to rise and the crowd reluctantly started to disperse, a man in a headset approached you. “you’re the journalist, right? the one from earlier?”

you nodded, half-expecting him to tell you to leave or remind you about some press embargo. instead, the tall man gestured toward the backstage area.

“you’re asked backstage. follow me.”

your heart leapt before you could stop it, heat rushing to your cheeks as you scrambled to follow him. the narrow corridor was dimly lit, the air cooler than the packed venue but still buzzing with energy. your guide led you to the band’s dressing room where you’d already been today, pausing outside the door.

“go on in. they’re just wrapping up.”

you pushed the door open cautiously. the dressing room was cozy but chaotic : guitar cases, empty beer bottles, and discarded jackets were strewn across the room. theo and blaise lounged on the couch, laughing about something while mattheo stood off to the side, towel slung around his neck, his brown curls damp with sweat.

the moment he saw you, his face lit up. he stepped away from the others, his lips twitching into that same crooked grin that had been haunting you all night.

“you made it,” he said, his voice warm and low as if there had been any doubt.

you shrugged and tried to play it cool. “didn’t want to miss the chance to see what goes on behind the curtain.”

mattheo chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “careful, you might ruin the mystery.”

“you’re assuming there’s still mystery to ruin.”

that earned a genuine laugh, and he took another step closer. his demeanour had completely changed, he was acting much more confident than when you’d interviewed him. “fair. so, what did you think of the show?”

“it was…” you paused andsearched for the right words, but his gaze was so intent it made it hard to think. “it was great. you were great.”

his smirk softened into something more genuine, his voice dropping as he said, “you know, I’ve done a lot of interviews, but there’s something about you. felt it the second we met.”

the air between you seemed to shift, the noise of the room fading as his words settled over you. “i-…”

“oi, matty boy!”

the door banged open and enzo, the band’s bassist, barged in, grinning like a mischievous child. he was carrying two beers, one of which he immediately handed to mattheo. “you gonna stand here making heart eyes all night, or are we celebrating?”

mattheo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “enzo-”

“oh, don’t stop on my account,” enzo teased, flopping onto the couch with the grace of someone who knew exactly how to kill a moment.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as the tension dissipated. “I should probably let you celebrate,” you said, taking a step back.

mattheo caught your wrist gently, his touch sending a jolt of heat up your arm. “don’t go.”

his voice was quiet, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks. you glanced back at him, your pulse racing.

enzo made a dramatic gagging noise. “merlin, you two are painful. I’m getting out of here before I choke on the sexual tension.” he grabbed his beer and sauntered out, leaving the two of you alone.

mattheo huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “sorry. he’s an idiot.”

“seems like a good friend, though,” you offered, trying to ease the lingering awkwardness.

“he is,” mattheo admitted. then his gaze softened again, his thumb brushing lightly over your wrist. “but I’d still rather it just be us right now.”

your breath caught as he stepped closer, his other hand coming up to rest lightly on your waist. his eyes searched yours, as if giving you one last chance to pull away.

when you didn’t, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t rushed or frantic. it was careful, full of unspoken promises.

“so much for keeping things professional,” you murmured when he broke the kiss to catch his breath

mattheo grinned, his voice a low rumble. “screw professional. this feels real.”

his thumb brushed over your cheek, his gaze dipping to your lips again as if he couldn’t quite get enough. he looked like he was craving another taste of you, but the touch of his calloused hands felt strangely soft. “you know, I’m not usually this forward, but I can’t stop thinking about what it’d be like to take you out. just you and me. no cameras, no interviews. what do you say?”

your lips curved into a soft smile, your voice breathless. “I’d say yes. definitely yes.”

he grinned at that, his hand sliding to the back of your neck as he pulled you into another kiss. it was deeper this time, more insistent as if he couldn’t help it. his lips moved with a deliberate intensity that left you dizzy, his other hand resting firmly on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

the air grew warmer, the distance between you nonexistent as his mouth left a slow trail along your jawline, his breath hot against your skin. your pulse quickened as you tilted your head back, his lips brushing the sensitive spot below your ear. “is this where I remind you I’m supposed to be writing an article about you?”

mattheo’s lips hovered over yours, his breath warm as he whispered, “so… what’s the headline gonna be ? ‘lead singer of the silver dominion is one hell of a kisser’?”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, your fingers sliding into his damp curls. “more like, ‘lead singer of the silver dominion is insufferably cocky.’”

his grin widened as he leaned in, brushing his mouth against yours in a way that made your knees weak. “as long as you include the part where I absolutely ruined you tonight.”

your cheeks flushed and you pulled him closer, voice laced with equal parts challenge and desire. “guess I’ll need a bit more material to work with, won’t I ?”

he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin as his hands gripped your hips. “you’re definitely not getting into writing anytime soon anyways. I’ve got other plans for us right now.”

the door was still closed, the muffled hum of the venue beyond it fading into nothing as the heat between you built. mattheo pressed you back against the wall, his lips finding yours again in a heated kiss.

oh yeah, you were definitely gonna be busy tonight…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : hey pookies, it’s been a while ! haven’t had much time to read lately but here’s a little something to keep you entertained

tell me if you wanna be added to the tag list ! @redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp

[fancyfeathers]

Part two to this post

Barry Allen would baby trap his darling at some point, it’s when he would not if he would. He also does not exactly view it as baby trapping, it is just the next step in life, you get saved by the Flash engaged, you get kidnapped married, so naturally kids would come next in the line. He know, he know, kids are a really big step, but they have time. Then they have to figure out what to do if the kids have their father’s speed, there is no way his darling can raise the little ones all on her own as a stay at home mom, they’ll have to figure a dynamic that keeps him home more often so he can teach the kids while she is getting dinner ready-

Meanwhile while telling his darling about his their future plans while eating dinner with her and she is just sitting there horrified, he had their whole life planned like they had been together for years.

“Hey, hey, hey, baby, don’t cry. I know this is scary, but we’ll figure it out together.”

The moment he finds out she is pregnant, he hits the ground running, pun not intended, on the preparations. Then literally a minute later after getting the news he has the crib built and is just all over his darling, names for a girl, names for a boy, what if they have twins?

When the baby is born, he does not want to put them down, Barry always needs to holding his baby. Hey, kangaroo care does improve brain and motor development, lowers risk of infection, regulates temperature, and improves weight gain.

Oliver Queen does not really try to get his darling pregnant, but it is not something he bothers to prevent either. It is a thing that naturally happens in time so if they are meant to have kids then so be it, if they aren’t then that is fine to. Now unlike some of the Justice League members, Oliver is more in tune to his darling’s emotions and chances are when she gets that positive pregnancy test that she will not exactly be happy, probably be crying. Oliver will not say anything and he will just sit with her on the bathroom tile and hold her while she cries.

Now just because he understands how his darling feels does not mean she doesn’t have to carry the baby, no she still has to, after all it’s their future child, it means that Oliver will be far more lax with things. Oliver doesn’t really have a lot of rule, and the few he does have are to protect his darling from the sort of threats that may come at her because he is Green Arrow, he is by far one of the least up tight members of the Justice League with their darling. She can go out with him if she wants to rather than being stuck home all day long, she can stay up later, she can even go with him to Justice League meetings because the social interaction would be good for her especially since at least one of the Green Lanterns’ darlings is around the Watchtower while their partner is off planet, and if Clark’s darling is around it is good for them to talk because lord knows how many babies she has had so there is bound to be good advice from her.

Also I think that Oliver would want to do an at home birth, it is free from all the chaos of a hospital because it will attract attention if he is there suddenly with a wife no one has ever seen, plus his money will cover everything, even hiring private doctors for the baby’s vaccinations and such post delivery, and then not to mention to comfort of being able to relax in his own home with his darling and their little baby after the delivery, holding them both and just being in the moment without the stress of anything and not having to be away from either of them.

Also I feel like Oliver would be such a girl dad, like sure he would be happy if it was a boy, but if it’s a girl then that’s his little princess.

Look with Bruce Wayne there is only one correct answer here, absolutely he would. He would not even need to get his darling pregnant to do it, he already has too many children to count. But sometimes empty nest syndrome hits rather hard especially when Dick moves out to Blüdhaven and then the grief when Jason died, then as the other kid come and go they get older and grow more distant, then only one of them is biological and Bruce never got the chance to see Damian as a baby because his son was being raised by the League of Assassins and Bruce had no idea he even existed, so maybe having a child would not be such a bad idea after all.

He would not be surprised or acted surprised when his darling tells him she is pregnant, he planned everything down to the little details, tracking periods, morning sickness, everything. He is happy, but he is calm, telling her that they can handle this. The big thing is telling the rest of his children, who are most likely yanderes as well, that she is pregnant, it’s difficult enough to get them all in the same room at the same time and it is even harder to get them all to calm down when they tell them the news. Dick and Stephanie are by far the most excited at the news, Dick is so excited that he picks her up in a hug and spins her around, but meanwhile Cassandra is just staring at her, just with a look she knows that Bruce’s darling is not happy with this but she can’t exactly say that out loud in a room full of people who are more happy about her baby than she is.

Setting up the nursery is even a family affair, Dick and Tim are painting the walls while Bruce figures out how to build the crib, and meanwhile she is just sitting in an armchair with a cup of caffeine free tea from Alfred with Stephanie and Duke suggesting names while she drinks. Meanwhile Jason takes the initiative to begin to baby proofing the manor because they cannot expect to have gear outside the Batcave with a baby in the house, not ever child in this family is going to be a vigilante.

Then when the baby is born, Bruce makes it a point to shut down any jokes about the baby becoming a Robin, they are not going to be trained from birth like Damian was and they were not taken in by Bruce like the others were. Though Dick and Barbara definitely get the baby a Robin onesie as a gag gift.

But one good thing about having Bruce’s child, when the baby wakes up in the night, either Alfred, Bruce, or one of the kids get there before she does. Now Bruce or the kids may still be in full costume and have just run upstairs from the cave to help after getting back from patrol, but it’s fine.

[nanenna]

Warning: Implied bodily mutilation.

Okay, so remember how this prompt started and why Danny's dissociating hard enough he's in the next universe over? Kon gets a sudden, visceral reminder. UwU (Nothing graphic, all implied. This time)

-----

It was nice having all of Just Us together again, even if it was only for a pre-mission information gathering meeting. After contacting Wonder Woman about it this was now official League business, specifically JLD business. So here he, Tim, Cassie, and Bart were, sitting in one of the meeting rooms on the Watchtower across the table from Wonder Woman and John Constantine. Tim had a presentation all ready to go, including Danny’s drawings and one blurry photo he somehow managed to get of the boy, as he explained everything they knew so far.

“It does seem this boy is from an alternate universe,” Diana agreed as she looked at the star chart Danny had drawn compared to their own. It seemed about half the stars Danny had drawn were a match.

“And even if not, I can’t help search for him with this,” Tim said.

Diana looked over to Constantine.

“I would need to get a read on him, preferably after I get some supplies and get everything set up.”

Kon sighed, “I’ll talk to Ma and Pa. Promise you won’t do any damage to the house.”

Constantine held his hands up, “I’ll clean up after myself.”

“I’ll put together a rescue team,” Diana said.

Kon and his friends all frowned, “We’re already a team.”

“Kon will need to go since Danny already knows him,” Cassie pointed out. “And since we’re already a team we work best with each other.”

Diana nodded, “Alright, I and John will come with you as back up and to make sure we can make it home. We’ll make arrangements to get his supplies, in the mean time I think it’s best you start introducing Danny to others. Ma and Pa at the least.”

Kon nodded, “Sure, I can do that.” He stood up, since it sounded like the meeting was over.

“Before you lot go running off,” Constantine interrupted, “just wanna say not everything from Earth is human.”

Kon sat back down.

“You mean like us?” Cassie asked with a confused frown.

“Yes and no. There’s Amazons and Atlanteans, sure. But there’s also the Tuatha Dé Danann, Hulder, Vila, Kami, whatever you wanna call them.”

Kon had no idea what Constantine was talking about, he looked over to Tim. “The fair folk, or fairies. Like Morgaine le Fey.”

Kon nodded, he had some idea what Constantine meant now.

“Dream walking isn’t something many humans can do.”

Kon remembered something he hadn’t paid much attention to earlier. “Danny called me Nocturn, the Ancient of dreams. He thinks this is all a dream, I don’t think he even knows he’s astral projecting.”

“Right, so he could be fae and knows it, he could be fae and not know it, or he could be a human who managed to make friends with something that sounds like a fae lord. And depending on what it is it changes the rules of hospitality, so be careful about that.”

Tim sighed, “I’ll give them all the fae crash course.”

“The Bat is surprisingly correct and thorough on that.” Constantine sighed, then looked towards Kon. “Look, mate, I know you won’t like this but it might be best to let him think he’s still dreaming for now, just until we get him out of whatever situation is so bad it has him dissociating into the next universe.”

He was right, Kon didn’t like it.

✧✦✧

It had only been a day, Kon wasn’t expecting to see Danny again so soon. At first there had been a whole week between the first and second sighting, but they had been getting closer and closer together over the last couple weeks. Kon wasn’t sure if that meant he just didn’t always run into Danny or if he was actually astral projecting more often. But he hadn’t seen Danny two days in a row yet.

Except now he had.

Kon had finished explaining the whole situation to Ma and Pa, had helped them pick out which room in the big old farmhouse they would let Constantine borrow, and promised to introduce them to Danny the next he saw him. He’d previously told them about him so they could keep an eye out for him, but it seemed they hadn’t seen him yet. Kon was just heading out to the barn for evening chores when he saw a misty figure out in one of the fields. Kon had almost missed them, due to how misty the fields were with rain coming down, but he stopped and squinted and yeah, that was Danny.

“Hello,” Kon greeted as he approached.

Danny didn’t look over, keeping his face turned up and eyes closed. “I can almost feel it.” The rain was going right through him, leaving misty trails in his translucent body.

“At least you don’t have to worry about getting wet.”

“I miss it.”

That’s it, just miss it, not even a comment about how he wants to go stand in the rain when he’s awake.

“Would you like to come inside? Meet my Ma and Pa? I’ve told them about you.”

Danny did blink, looking over at Kon owlishly with his haunting green eyes. “I suppose I have been too lonely.” Danny lifted off the ground and drifted towards Kon, who also lifted into the air and started leading Danny towards the farmhouse.

“I’m not Nocturn.”

Danny looked over with one of his indulgent smiles.

“I mean it,” Kon said quickly. “I don’t want you to think I lied and said I was him when I’m not.” He may need to let Danny think he’s still dreaming, which technically he’s not wrong about, but Kon wasn’t going to try to pretend to be someone he’s never even heard of.

“If you say so.”

Kon sighed, he’d tried. They arrived at the house then, Kon carefully wiped off his shoes before going in. Danny didn’t have a lower half to bother with. “Ma, Pa, I have a guest.”

“Oh, is it one of your friends or did Diana and John finish their shopping trip already?” Ma asked as she walked into the room. When she spotted Danny she stopped and looked at him for a moment before smiling brightly. “You must be Danny, Conner’s been telling us about you.”

Danny looked up at Kon, “Conner?”

Kon shrugged, “Earth name.”

Danny just nodded, then turned back to Ma. “I am Danny, it’s nice to meet you.” He held a hand out, the arm attaching it to his body barely there.

Pa came in just as Danny introduced himself, then he gave the boy a hearty handshake.

“Well, can you eat?” Ma asked.

Danny shrugged and looked to Kon, who also shrugged. Danny turned back to Ma, “I can smell.”

Her mouth rolled into a thin line, “Well how about I make you a cup of hot cider and we can see how that goes.”

“Sure.” Danny followed Ma into the kitchen. He managed to pull out the chair himself to sit in it, legs still missing and hands barely a suggestion as they were folded in front of him on the table.

Ma set about pouring some of the cider they had into a pot to heat up. While that was going, she bustled around the kitchen gathering enough mugs for everyone.

Pa sat across from Danny at the table while Kon stood to the side, just watching her until she poured the steaming cider into the mugs. Kon picked up two of them and handed one off to Danny, while Ma gave Pa his.

“Thank you,” Danny said to both Kon and Ma when the mug was placed in front of him.

Interesting, according to Tim fairies were allergic to saying thank you. So either Danny was raised human and didn’t know he was a fairy, or he was a human and this was all Nocturn.

Danny closed his eyes and seemed to savor the long sniff he took of the mug he’d pulled closer to himself. “It smells so good.”

“Thank you,” Ma said proudly, taking a sip for herself.

Danny leaned forward and carefully picked up the mug, tipping it to take a sip. Cider splattered on the table. Danny frowned down at it.

Kon quickly picked up one of the kitchen towels and wiped the spill up. “That’s a bummer.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I can make myself solid enough. It’s so weird, normally I have to try to not be solid.”

“Well I’m sorry you can’t eat,” Ma said with a sigh.

“It still smells really good.” Danny settled the mug in his hands to be cradled just under his nose.

No one seemed sure what to say to that. It was Pa that tried to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself, Danny?”

“I’d rather not.”

Kon couldn’t help wincing, even said in Danny’s soft, dreamy voice that was a bit harsh.

Pa recovered, “Alright then, how about we tell you about the farm? It’s been a real nice year so far. The animals and crops are doing well.”

“It’s been easier since Conner’s been actually staying instead of just visiting,” Ma added.

“What?” Kon asked.

Ma tittered, “Since Danny showed up you’ve been staying the whole time instead of just visiting.”

“I visit every day!”

“You do,” Ma agreed with a wide smile. “Don’t change that it’s been lonely since Clark and Lois moved back to Metropolis, took little Jon with them.”

“They visit a lot too!”

“That they do,” Pa agreed. He gave Danny an exaggerated wink, “We’re real lucky our boys can make the time to come visit us so often.”

Danny smiled gently at Pa, “It does sound-”

Danny’s mug clattered to the table, spilling cider across it and splashing some on the floor. Kon moved to start cleaning it up when he realized why Danny’s mug had fallen.

Danny’s right arm was missing.

Danny looked down at it with his usual passive expression, “Oh, so that’s what that feeling was.”

“What?” Kon asked blankly.

“They’re gonna run outta limbs eventually.”

Kon looked over to Ma, who had her hands pressed over her mouth, and Pa, who was frozen half standing. Then he looked back to Danny, who was still frowning at his shoulder. “W-what?”

Danny looked passively up at Kon. “You already know what’s going on, it’s why you made this waking dream for me after all.”

Kon stared at the arm that wasn’t there, not even a misty hint.

Danny sighed and closed his eyes, a nearly invisible arm and hand reappeared and quickly became as solid (half at best) as the other hand. He picked up his fallen mug.

Kon thought about how Danny’s arms only seemed to be there half the time. He thought about how Danny’s legs almost never seemed to be there. Kon thought about how he wasn’t entirely sure what Danny’s face looked like besides his brightly glowing eyes.

Ma was already sopping up the cider with a kitchen towel, Pa was at the linen closet grabbing bigger towel. Kon was outside, crouched over in a squat with his fingers laced and pressing against the back of his neck. He heard Ma distantly shout for Clark, but he was too busy trying to get his breathing back under control to notice.

DP x DC Prompt/Plotbunny #6

After days? weeks? months? years? in this mercy-forsaken lab, Danny finds himself slipping; his core straining under the weight of what he's been subjected to. In a last ditch effort to save his fracturing soul, his brain simply stops processing the pain and allows his mind to escape into a waking dream.

Danny knows it's a dream. If he thinks about it; he can still hear, see, feel the scientists at work. He doesn't think about it; instead embraces whatever false world his mind decides to concoct for him.

.

Several states away, a young boy opens his eyes to the inside of a strange pod in an abandoned lab. Though he cannot see it yet, a strange metal tag dangles from his ear, stamped on one side with the word 'CADMUS' and on the other with 'R-13'.

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 22 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇warnings: Telemachus is VERY freaky in this chapter, no direct nsfw but like there’s a lot of suggestive comments.

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

Telemachus leaned over the edge of the ship, gazing out at the endless horizon with a wistful sigh. The salty breeze tousled his hair, but it couldn’t distract him from the ache in his chest. “I just can’t stop thinking about her,” he said, his voice drenched in longing.

Acrisios, who was adjusting the sails nearby, rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of his head. “You’ve been thinking about her since we left Ithaca. Gods above, Telemachus, give it a rest.”

Telemachus turned to his friend, clutching the railing dramatically. “But you don’t understand, Acrisios! She’s… she’s everything. Her smile, her wit, the way she gets all flustered when she’s trying to argue with me—it’s like I can still hear her voice in the wind.”

Acrisios groaned and ran a hand down his face. “No, Telemachus. That’s just the wind. Or maybe the sound of the crew wishing you’d stop talking. Or if we’re lucky enough it’s the sound of Poseidon approaching and killing us all so we don’t have to hear this.”

Telemachus ignored the jab, pressing his hand to his chest as if it might ease the ache. “Do you think she misses me? Or do you think she’s furious that I left without telling her sooner? Oh, gods, what if she’s already forgotten about me?”

Acrisios threw down the rope he was tying, finally fed up. “Telemachus, she hasn’t forgotten about you. How could she, with how obsessed you are? I bet she’s just trying to enjoy some peace and quiet now that you’re not there to constantly harass her.”

Telemachus frowned. “That’s not funny.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” Acrisios shot back, crossing his arms. “Look, I get it. She’s amazing, she’s perfect, you’re in love, blah blah blah. But if you don’t stop yapping about her, I swear I’ll jump overboard and swim to Pylos myself to get away from you.”

Telemachus narrowed his eyes. “You’re just jealous you don’t have anyone waiting for you back home.”

Acrisios barked a laugh. “Jealous? No, I’m grateful. I don’t have to pine like some lovesick poet while there’s actual work to be done.”

Telemachus sighed again, turning back to the sea. “You’ll never understand what we have. She’s my other half, my reason to keep going.”

Acrisios shook his head and muttered under his breath, “I’m about to make her my reason to push you overboard.”

“What was that?” Telemachus asked, not looking back.

“Nothing,” Acrisios replied with a smirk, grabbing the rope again. “Now get your lovesick self together before the crew throws you over for real.”

Telemachus grumbled but stayed quiet, though he couldn’t help but trace the outline of Y/N’s face in the clouds above. Telemachus paced the deck, gesturing wildly as he rambled. “And then there’s the way she wrinkles her nose when she’s annoyed, like she’s trying so hard not to smile, but you can tell she wants to. It’s adorable, Acrisios. Adorable! Don’t you think so?”

Acrisios sat on a barrel, his head in his hands. “I don’t even remember what she looks like, Telemachus. I couldn’t tell you if she’s adorable or a Gorgon in disguise. And at this point, I don’t care!”

“But her hair—” Telemachus began, his voice dreamy.

“Enough!” Acrisios shot to his feet, his patience finally snapping. “I swear by the gods, Telemachus, if you say one more word about Pandora, I’m throwing you overboard myself!”

Telemachus blinked, taken aback. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” Acrisios growled, storming toward him.

Before Telemachus could respond, Acrisios grabbed him by the shoulders and began dragging him toward the edge of the ship. “You’re going to learn to shut up, one way or another!”

“Wait, wait, wait! Acrisios, this isn’t funny!” Telemachus yelped, flailing as Acrisios pushed him closer to the railing.

“Neither is listening to you talk about her every single second of this cursed voyage!” Acrisios barked, giving Telemachus a little shove that made him teeter precariously over the edge.

A group of crew members rushed over, alarmed by the commotion. One of them, a burly sailor named Dorios, grabbed Acrisios by the arm. “Hey! Calm down, Acrisios! You can’t just toss Odysseus’s son into the sea!”

“He’s not acting like Odysseus’s son—he’s acting like a lovesick fool!” Acrisios retorted, though he let Dorios pull him back a step.

Another sailor, Andros, held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright, everyone breathe. Telemachus, maybe tone it down with the gushing. Acrisios, put him down before you get yourself thrown overboard.”

Telemachus, still dangling half over the railing, scowled. “I wasn’t gushing!”

“Yes, you were!” the entire crew shouted in unison.

Dorios hauled Telemachus back onto the deck, shaking his head. “Gods save us, this is going to be a long voyage.”

Acrisios pointed a finger at Telemachus, his face red with frustration. “One more word about her, Telemachus. Just one. I dare you.”

Telemachus straightened his tunic, glaring at Acrisios. But after a moment of silence, he mumbled, “Her eyes really are perfect, though…”

Acrisios lunged, but Dorios and Andros grabbed him just in time, dragging him away as he shouted threats.

Telemachus sighed, brushing himself off. “You’d think they’d understand. True love is a gift, not a curse.” The crew groaned in unison, and Acrisios’s muffled yelling could still be heard from the other side of the ship.

——

The gentle sway of the ship rocked the cabin as Telemachus and Acrisios shared a small bunk, the tight quarters forcing them to sleep back-to-back. Acrisios was already irritated at having to share a bed with Telemachus, but exhaustion from the day’s work had him drifting off regardless. That is, until Telemachus stirred in his sleep and mumbled, “Y/N…”

Acrisios’s eye twitched, but he ignored it. Moments later, Telemachus turned over, flinging an arm around Acrisios and muttering again, “Y/N… my sweet…”

Acrisios groaned, his patience hanging by a thread. “This cannot be happening.”

But Telemachus snuggled closer, his grip tightening as he whispered, “Y/N… your hair… your eyes…” That was it. Acrisios sat up abruptly, shoving Telemachus off him and onto the floor with a loud thud.

“Get off me, you lovesick idiot!” Acrisios snapped, glaring down at Telemachus, who was groaning on the floor and rubbing his head.

“What was that for?” Telemachus protested, sitting up.

“For this!” Acrisios gestured wildly. “Even in your sleep, you’re obsessed with her! Do you know how disturbing it is to wake up to you clinging to me like I’m your precious Y/!?”

Telemachus blinked, his face turning red. “I-I wasn’t clinging to you!”

“Oh, yes, you were,” Acrisios shot back, crossing his arms. “Muttering her name like I’m some stand in for your little lovebird.”

Telemachus scrambled to his feet, his embarrassment quickly turning to indignation. “It’s not my fault! I can’t control what I do in my sleep!”

“Well, control yourself now!” Acrisios snapped, jabbing a finger at him. “Find another bunk, or I’m throwing you overboard—again!”

“There’s nowhere else to sleep, Acrisios!” Telemachus retorted, throwing up his hands. “And if you’d just let me dream about Y/N in peace—”

“In peace?!” Acrisios interrupted, his voice rising. “You were practically whispering sweet nothings into my ear!”

Telemachus huffed. “You’re being dramatic.”

“And you’re being unbearable!” Acrisios growled, throwing himself back onto the bunk and turning his back to Telemachus. “One more peep about Y/N—even in your dreams—and I swear I’m sleeping on the deck next time.”

“Fine,” Telemachus muttered, climbing back into the bunk. But after a moment of silence, he mumbled under his breath, “She really does have the softest hands, though…”

Acrisios groaned, grabbing his pillow and smashing it over his head to block out the sound. “I can’t take this anymore.”

——

The morning sun painted the ship’s deck in gold as the crew bustled about their duties. Acrisios leaned lazily against the mast, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips as Telemachus passed by.

“So, Telemachus,” Acrisios began, loud enough for the other crew members to hear, “I’ve been thinking. Y/N might be better off with a real man, you know? Someone who isn’t always whining about her like a lost puppy.”

Telemachus stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes. “What did you just say?”

“Oh, come on,” Acrisios said with a shrug, his tone dripping with mockery. “I’m just saying, she’d probably appreciate someone with a bit more… experience. Someone who can handle himself without tripping over his own feet every time she bats her eyes.”

A few of the crew chuckled, but Telemachus didn’t join in. Instead, his jaw clenched, and his fists balled at his sides. “Acrisios, you’re walking on thin ice.”

Ignoring the warning, Acrisios pressed on, clearly enjoying himself. “I bet if I showed up with flowers and actual charm, she’d forget all about you in a heartbeat. She deserves a man who can sweep her off her feet, not some boy who spends half the time whining about how much he misses her.” The other crew members exchanged wary glances as Telemachus’s face darkened.

“Shut your mouth,” Telemachus said, his voice low but filled with warning.

Acrisios smirked, leaning closer. “Or what? Are you going to cry? Maybe I’ll send her a message when we get to Sparta—let her know she has better options.”

That was the final straw. Telemachus surged forward, grabbing Acrisios by the collar and shoving him back against the mast. “Don’t you dare talk about her like that again,” he snarled, his face inches from Acrisios’s.

Acrisios’s smirk faltered as he saw the fury in Telemachus’s eyes. “Whoa, whoa, it was a joke!” he said, holding up his hands defensively.

“It wasn’t funny,” Telemachus snapped, his grip tightening. “You can tease me all you want, but leave Y/N out of it. Understand?”

“Alright, alright!” Acrisios said quickly, trying to pry Telemachus’s hands off his collar. “Relax, lover boy!” Telemachus released him with a shove, glaring as Acrisios straightened his tunic and muttered under his breath.

The rest of the crew stayed silent, pretending to focus on their tasks as Telemachus stormed off. Acrisios watched him go, rubbing his neck. “Man, he really is whipped,” he muttered, earning a few nervous chuckles from the crew. “He must get that pussy on a daily for him to be this desperate.”

But none of them dared say it loud enough for Telemachus to hear.

——

The sea breeze was calm that afternoon, but the deck of the ship was anything but. Telemachus leaned on a barrel, staring wistfully at the horizon while Acrisios attempted—unsuccessfully—to ignore him, fiddling with a loose rope knot.

“And then, right before I sailed, she hugged me,” Telemachus sighed for the hundredth time. “I can still feel it. It wasn’t just a hug, Acrisios. It was the hug. Like a promise, you know? A silent promise.”

Acrisios groaned, pulling tighter on the knot. “If I hear the word ‘Y/N’ one more time, I’m going to jump overboard.”

“But you get it, right?” Telemachus turned to him, his eyes shining. “The way she looks at me, the way her voice sounds when she says my name—”

“Telemachus,” Acrisios cut him off sharply, glaring. “I will physically throw you overboard myself and make sure no one will hear you this time.”

“Wow, someone’s cranky,” Telemachus teased, smirking. “Maybe you just need a girl of your own to obsess over.”

“I don’t obsess,” Acrisios muttered, turning his back to Telemachus.

“You totally do,” Telemachus shot back. “I bet there’s someone waiting for you back in Ithaca, huh? Some girl who’s just dying to see you again?”

“Nope,” Acrisios said quickly, too quickly.

Telemachus’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. You hesitated. You hesitated! Acrisios, you do have someone!”

“I don’t,” Acrisios said firmly, his face starting to turn red.

“You so do!” Telemachus practically leaped to his feet, pointing at him accusingly. “Tell me! Who is she? Is it someone from the palace? Someone from town? Is she—”

“It’s no one,” Acrisios snapped, pulling the knot so tight the rope frayed.

“Come on, Acrisios,” Telemachus pressed, his grin widening. “You can’t hide it from me. I’m great with secrets! Is she—”

“It’s Lethea, alright!?” Acrisios blurted, then immediately froze, realizing what he’d just said.

There was a beat of silence. Then—

“LETHEA?!” Telemachus squealed, his voice practically cracking. “Your father’s friend’s daughter?!”

“Shut up,” Acrisios muttered, his face now beet red.

“But she’s gorgeous!” Telemachus exclaimed, his hands flailing dramatically. “And sweet! And—oh my gods, does she know?!”

“No, and she’s not going to,” Acrisios grumbled, glaring at Telemachus.

“But you have to tell her!” Telemachus insisted, bouncing on his heels. “She’s amazing! And you’re—you’re….Acrisios…I guess? She’d totally fall for you anyway.”

“I said shut up,” Acrisios growled, his glare darkening.

Telemachus, of course, ignored him entirely, already lost in his matchmaking fantasies. “You could totally win her over. You just need a plan. Oh, I could help you write a love letter! Or no, wait—”

“If you say one more word,” Acrisios interrupted, grabbing the rope and holding it threateningly, “I will tie you up and leave you at the next port.”

“Alright, alright,” Telemachus said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. But the mischievous sparkle in his eyes betrayed him. “Still, Lethea, huh? I never would’ve guessed…”

Acrisios groaned, burying his face in his hands. He knew he’d never hear the end of this.

——

The ship rocked gently against the waves, the creak of wood and the occasional splash of water the only sounds filling the cabin. Acrisios lay sprawled on the bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Beside him, Telemachus shifted for the third time in as many minutes, clearly restless.

Acrisios sighed, turning his head slightly to glance at his friend. “Alright, out with it. What’s wrong this time?”

Telemachus hesitated, staring up at the dark ceiling. He fidgeted with a loose thread on his tunic before finally mumbling, “It’s nothing.”

Acrisios raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’ve been squirming like a fish caught in a net for the past hour. Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing’ to me.”

Telemachus groaned, covering his face with his hands. “It’s stupid.”

“Most things you worry about are,” Acrisios quipped, smirking. “Come on, just say it.”

There was a long pause before Telemachus finally blurted out, “I’m not ready to meet Y/N again!”

Acrisios blinked. “What?”

Telemachus groaned again, turning to face Acrisios, his expression a mix of panic and embarrassment. “I mean—what if she expects… things from me? What if I disappoint her? I don’t—I don’t know how to… properly sleep with a woman!”

Acrisios stared at him for a moment before bursting out laughing, clutching his stomach. “Are you serious? That’s what you’re worried about?”

Telemachus’s face turned bright red. “It’s not funny!” he hissed, shoving Acrisios’s shoulder.

“Actually, it’s hilarious,” Acrisios said between chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye. “Gods, Telemachus, you’ve got to stop overthinking everything.”

Telemachus sat up, running a hand through his hair. “I’m serious, Acrisios! What if she thinks I’m… inexperienced? What if I mess everything up? She’ll think I’m a joke.”

Acrisios rolled his eyes, sitting up as well. “First of all, I don’t think she cares about that. She’s probably more worried about you coming back in one piece than how ‘experienced’ you are in bed.”

“But—”

“Second,” Acrisios interrupted, placing a hand on Telemachus’s shoulder, “you’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. Women aren’t looking for perfection, alright? Just… be yourself. If you care about her, and you treat her right, that’s what matters.” Telemachus looked doubtful, but Acrisios gave him a reassuring smile.

“And third,” Acrisios added with a smirk, “if you’re that desperate for advice, I could always give you a few pointers.”

Telemachus’s eyes widened in horror. “No, gods, no! I don’t want to know what you do with women!”

Acrisios laughed, clapping him on the back. “Suit yourself, but don’t come crying to me if you’re awkward on your first night.”

Telemachus groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, you keep me around,” Acrisios said with a grin, lying back down.

Despite his teasing, Acrisios’s words stuck with Telemachus, and as the ship swayed gently beneath them, he found himself feeling a little less anxious. Maybe Acrisios was right—maybe he just needed to stop overthinking.

——

The soft glow of dawn filtered through the cabin window as Acrisios stirred awake. He stretched lazily, rubbing his eyes, when an unusual rustling sound caught his attention. Blinking groggily, he propped himself up on one elbow and turned toward the source of the noise.

What he saw nearly made him fall off the bed.

There stood Telemachus, butt ass naked, clutching a pillow against his chest. His face was an intense mask of concentration as he awkwardly shifted his hips and muttered under his breath, seemingly practicing… something. Acrisios stared in stunned silence for a good ten seconds before bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. He clutched his stomach, doubling over on the bed as tears streamed down his face.

“Gods above!” Acrisios wheezed. “What in Hades are you doing, Telemachus?!”

Telemachus froze, his face turning a shade of red so deep it could rival the evening sun. He scrambled to cover himself with the pillow, spinning around to face Acrisios. “I—I wasn’t—It’s not what it looks like!”

Acrisios laughed even harder, practically choking on his breath as he pointed at Telemachus. “Not what it looks like? You’re naked, grinding on a pillow, and talking to it! What else could it possibly be?!”

Telemachus groaned, clutching the pillow tighter and burying his face in it. “I was practicing, alright?!”

That only made Acrisios laugh harder. He rolled onto his back, pounding the bed with his fist. “Practicing! Oh, this is priceless. You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Telemachus glared at him, his face still burning. “I didn’t ask for your opinion!”

Acrisios sat up, still grinning ear to ear. “Oh, I’m definitely telling Y/N about this when we get back to Ithaca. ‘Oh, hey, Y/N, did you know your dear Telemachus spends his mornings seducing pillows?’”

“Don’t you dare!” Telemachus yelled, his voice cracking in panic.

Acrisios leaned forward, smirking wickedly. “Oh, I will. She deserves to know the man she’s been pining over is a lunatic who thinks pillows are practice partners.”

Telemachus groaned, throwing the pillow at Acrisios’s face. “You’re insufferable!”

Acrisios caught the pillow with ease, still laughing. “And you’re pathetic. Don’t throw that at me! I don’t know where that pillow has been. Now, for the love of the gods, put some clothes on before the crew sees you like this. I don’t think I can explain this one to them without dying of laughter.”

Telemachus stomped over to his discarded clothes, muttering curses under his breath as Acrisios continued to snicker.

“Honestly, Telemachus,” Acrisios said, wiping a tear from his eye, “this trip is worth it just for moments like these.”

Telemachus glared at him but said nothing, his dignity in tatters. It would take a lot of convincing—and possibly a bribe—to make sure Acrisios kept this embarrassing moment to himself.

@procrastination20 @jackiepackiee @barrythestrawberry041 @blessedbyahuntress

@f3r4lfr0gg3r @permanently-nothere @eyuunho @jackintheboxs-world

@simpingmyassoff @sunshinewhosketches

@sugarlillycookie @kaguraaaa @doodle-with-rhy

@0anodite0 @cocosparkel @tati-the-fangirl

@dazedemery @xo-cuteplosion-xo

[stargazedwinchester]

Hey, for a request, how about an earlier seasons Dean x Reader scenario in which they got a little crush and flirting going on, sparks between them, but Dean's a little worried that John won't approve? 👀

Your texting moodboard and the image of the "I love you. Don't reply, this is my dad's number" kinda inspired this idea!

Forbidden ♡ Dean

Summary: John doesn't approve of you dating his son, Dean. Word Count: 1,037 Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Thank you for requesting ily!! I love this bc I love JDM <3 what a dilf A little bit of Negan came out here (sorry not sorry)

When your parents passed in such a cruel, sadistic way, Dean was the one that saved you. He was the one that introduced you to hunting, to really get a feel for the life that could’ve been if you knew you could save your parents.

That gnaws at you every damn day.

At this point, you had known Dean for roughly a year, joining him on late night drives to dive bars, drinking til you can’t see. You’d stay with him in motels close to your hometown, just for the sake of company. You don’t have a lot here anymore. No close family, old school friends turned acquaintances, so you can really just rely on Dean and his younger brother, Sam.

Oh, and John.

John is a tough nut to crack. Majority of the time, you can’t tell when he’s being genuine or an absolute dick. You know Sam and Dean had a tough childhood with him not being present enough in their lives, so that fact has already somewhat helped you decide from the get-go. You had tried multiple times in the past to get on his good side: trying to get to know him, stay friendly with his sons, and most importantly, stay out of his way.

“You wanna come with?” Dean invites, pulling his jacket over his shoulders. His dad sits in the front seat of the impala, waiting for Dean to finish up. “You think he’ll let me?” You peer at John, his eyebrows scrunched, glaring at Dean. Dean looks over his shoulder, John ushering him to hurry up. “Hell what he thinks. Come with me.”

You press your lips together firmly, believing that if you join them, it’ll end badly. “Dean.” He calls, his voice stern and impatient. “We need to go.” John rolls the window up, and Dean rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t like me, does he?” You focus your eyes on Dean, who shakes his head lightly. “He doesn’t like anyone. Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll figure something out.” He flashes you a quaint smile that makes your tummy do somersaults. You place a peck on his cheek, and he blushes almost immediately. “I’ll miss you.” He says, and you smile. Dean walks down toward the car, then drives off.

It’s been a couple of weeks, and you haven’t heard much from Dean except the odd text from random numbers. One read: ‘I Love You. Don’t reply. This is my dad’s number.’ Times like these make you ill with worry. Worry that Dean’s not safe and there’s nothing you can do. You trust that he can take care of himself and you care for him deeper than you’d like to admit.

A few hours go by and you find yourself nose-deep in your book, ruminating in the same motel room as before. Dean had mentioned about being gone for a day or two, so he paid for your room on your behalf. There’s some light commotion outside. Since the voile is practically see-through, all you can see is the motel sign gleaming through the window. The rowing gets louder, as you see two male figures almost butting heads close to your room. Putting your book down, you head over to the window and see John and Dean in each other’s faces. Again.

“She’s not an issue, dad! You haven’t even given her a chance!” Dean spits. “I don’t need to give her a chance when I’ve seen enough. You need to give her up.” John retorts, and Dean pinches his brow line. “I’m not giving her up just because you say so, dad! I really like her, so get off my ass, man.” Dean attempts to turn around, but John pulls him back. “I’m not done.” He says sternly. John forces himself to be eye to eye with Dean, his cavillous demeanour ignites a fire inside you. He carries on.

“Listen, man, you don’t get to have an apple-pie life. End of the day she’ll be the first one to run when the bullet flies - and you know what? You’ll end up being the one to pick up the pieces, or the one that gets killed. So don’t you dare come back to me when you realise how much you regret being with her and you wanna come back to hunting. It ain’t gonna happen. Once you give up your life here; there’s no going back.” He threatens. John’s eyes are dark. Menacing. You feel as if you’re rewatching Dean’s teenage years reappear right in front of you. He has always mentioned that his father is a very strict person when it comes to ‘protecting’ his boys. That’s what he calls it. You open the door and meet them halfway. John turns his head and notices the scowl on your face, his aura stagnant. “John.” You state, not even bothering to make eye contact with Dean, but you can feel him staring at you. “I don’t care what you think about me, but what you’re saying to your son is far from the truth.” You say.

“You don’t know me. You clearly don’t know your own son and you have no idea about us being together. I don’t care whether you approve of me or not, but what I’m trying to say is that I love Dean. He may be your child but he’s sure as shit nothin’ like you.” You assert yourself, and John’s demeanour changes. His eyes soften, gazing upon your whole body. He looks at Dean, then huffs. Dean almost refuses to look his father in his eyes, as if he’s scared of what he could say next.

A smirk creeps up on Johns face as he’s still looking at you. His posture relaxes as he lets out a small laugh.”You’re the first person to ever stand up to me about my boys. You’ve got balls, Y/N. I like that.” John says, which takes you by surprise. This whole time you assumed John didn’t like you, turns out it’s quite the opposite. “You’re headstrong and you’ll look after my kid. You may not seek my approval but I’m giving it to you.” Jon looks over at Dean, who’s just as shocked as you are. “Thank you, sir.” You nod, and John walks back to the car. Dean sighs.

“Well, that could’ve gone a lot worse. I was starting to get a little worried.” He looks at you with a shine in his eyes, one that screams ‘my-father-finally-agrees-with-something-i’ve-done’.

“Thank God.” You breathe. Dean takes your hand and walks you toward the car. He opens the back passenger door, planting a kiss on your lips. “That’s my girl.”

[swoo-bats]

Tim knows something is up. He doesn't know what, exactly, yet. But he will find out. Earlier he caught Cassie and Kon whispering before they noticed him and stopped. They keep darting their eyes between him and Bart when they're all together. It's clear to Tim that they think something is up between him and Bart but after reviewing the past few missions and hangouts, he can't pin anything down for what they think, or why. He's almost given up trying to puzzle it out by himself when Cassie basically tells him.

"You know, Kon and I won't care if you and Bart are dating."

She's leaning against the wall by the door in Tim's room with her arms crossed and attempting to look nonchalant.

Tim has to take a moment to digest the sentence.

Implication 1: He and Bart are dating.

Implication 2: They chose not to tell Cassie and Kon.

Implication 3: That Bart could be any amount of subtle if they were dating and trying to hide it from their best friends.

Safe to say, he needs more information. How did they arrive at this conclusion?

"What makes you think we're dating?"

Cassie looks annoyed by his evasion, but goes on to explain anyway. "Kon said that he saw you guys holding hands walking around his campus. You were wearing one of Bart's jackets. The other day I saw Bart's sketchbook and it has so many drawings of you it's nauseatingly sweet. Plus, recently Bart's been getting distracted daydreaming with this lovesick look on his face which is really annoying during training." Her nose scrunches at that last part.

With the new information, Tim can finally draw some connections.

"First of all, that alone isn't evidence of dating. Secondly, I'm not dating Bart." Although he had a sneaking suspicion he knew who was.

Danny had told him that he was accepted into Missouri State University and was going to major in engineering. Why Danny chose Missouri State Central City is still lost on Tim. When moving into his dorm Danny texted Tim, jokingly complaining about rooming with an art student which could theoretically be Bart. But... Bart and Danny? Tim has such a large mental divide between those two aspects of his life that imagining them rooming together was strange. He almost felt off-kilter.

Cassie is saying something about how there's no way the two of them would act like that if they weren't dating, but he wasn't paying attention to it now.

Tim stands, moving away from his desk. "Where's Bart?" Cassie says that Kon was going to talk to Bart and should be with him, wherever they are.

They find Bart and Kon in Bart's room. Tim overhears what sounds to be the tail end of Kon's confrontation with Bart.

"—not dating Tim! I'm not dating anyone!"

When Tim enters the room, he can see Bart with his hands exasperatedly thrown up. He decides to butt in before Kon can continue.

"So you're not dating Danny?" He quirks an eyebrow up and though he's wearing his mask he knows his friends can read him.

Bart hesitates to answer which gives Kon and Cassie time to simultaneously ask, "Who's Danny?"

Since they've already stuck their noses in this far Tim just shrugs when he says, "My twin." And relishes the looks on their faces. Then focuses back on Bart and raises his eyebrow again, still waiting for an answer.

"I've been meaning to ask! It keeps slipping my mind, okay!?"

Tim just stares with a disappointed face. He knows how effective it is, he copied it from Alfred, after all. And though he may not be as close to Danny as he is his bat-siblings, he feels he gets to judge his twin's potential partner at least a little, especially since it's one of his best friends.

"Don't give me that look!" Bart shouts and points a finger at Tim. "Danny could bring it up, too! I'm not the only one!" Then his expression turns unsure and his hand lowers, "Plus, what if he doesn't like me and I just make it super awkward and he won't wanna be dorm mates with me any more and then I'll never see him again because he'll avoid me and our majors are totally different?"

"That's not going to happen."

Kon displays an impressive feat of speed by cutting off Bart. "Wait wait wait wait. How come we've never heard of Danny before if he's your twin?"

Aiming for casual, Tim shrugs again. "We were separated at birth and grew up with different families. And he doesn't know about the whole Bat thing so you guys can't just show up and start asking him stuff."

Cassie crosses her arms defensively. "We weren't going to do that."

Kon also crosses his arms. "And even if we were, we totally know how to be subtle."

"Uh huh."

—

Danny: either im hallucinating or i keep seeing wondergirl and superboy on campus

Danny: i s2g if some superhero bs gets my classes cancelled

Danny: idk what ill do but it will be Drastic

Tim: You literally chose a school in the same city the Flash operates in

Danny: yeah but hes chill

dpxdc twins au except it's no-pulse flavored

Bart’s new roommate looks a lot like Tim. 

Like, suspiciously like Tim. 

Danny’s the same height, has the same shape of nose, same shade of hair, and even frowns like him. He would have been a perfect copy if he acted more like Tim, but Danny definitely holds himself looser than Bart’s ever seen Tim. 

But he still has his face. So, obviously, Bart has to investigate. Maybe he’s a clone, or a shapeshifter, or maybe one of the Gotham rogues decided to get facial reconstruction surgery to look like him, and this was all a ploy. 

Okay, probably not that last one. Bart doesn’t think Tim’s enemies know his identity. 

Anyway, investigation! Bart’ll figure this out himself, and deal with it if Danny needs to be dealt with. And the investigation will start right after he comes up with an excuse as to why he’s back in their third floor apartment when he passed Danny in the hallway a few seconds before. 

Danny stares at him, and Bart stares back. 

“Must’ve been a doppelganger!” Bart blurts out. 

Danny’s silent for a second before nodding enthusiastically and noting that everyone's supposed to have like seven in the world anyway and wow what a wild coincidence that there’s one in their building. 

Bart extends the same courtesy when a week later he walks in on Danny with an iced over pan on the stove. Danny says they should really get their freezer checked out and Bart agrees and asks if he can use the ice for a painting study. 

(They never get their freezer checked.)

Bart finds that Danny’s great at setting up fun things for him to draw, whether he knows it or not. Like the ice, or his collection of rocks, his astronomy textbooks with the pretty covers, his gestures as he rants about his classes, the excited glint in his eyes when he’s talking about his next repair project and how his eyes almost look like they glow in the right light. 

Hm. A good portion of his sketchbook is drawings of Danny, and yet he’s still having trouble with getting the right blue for his eyes. At first glance they’re Tim’s shade of blue, but when he keeps looking they seem to get lighter. Maybe greener?

He should probably stop staring into his friend’s eyes. 

Well, maybe not. Danny doesn’t seem to mind. 

Just like he doesn’t mind when they started regularly sitting very close on the couch, or falling asleep together, or Bart borrowing some of his jackets, or-

Okay, Bart’s kinda seeing a pattern. He and Danny should really have a conversation about if this is platonic behavior or not. 

But not right now, because Bart brought Danny across the river to raid Wally’s board game closet in Keystone. 

And Wally, who’s used to this, just passes by them with a, “Hey Bart, hey Tim.”

“Danny, not Tim,” Danny replies almost absent mindedly, then looks back at Wally, who’s also staring at him now. “Wait, you know Tim?”

“OhmyGod I was supposed to investigate!” Bart says, face palming. It just slipped his mind! And Danny was distracting him with his pretty face that he totally wears better than Tim!

“You know him too?” Danny asks. But he doesn’t look suspicious of them, more amused. 

“How do you know him?” Wally squints at Danny, eyes briefly catching Bart’s in question. 

“He’s my twin,” Danny answers easily. “The Drakes only wanted one kid, so they gave me to their friends the Fentons, who wanted a second one.” He shrugs and goes back to digging around the closet. “Tim and I were always in contact, though. Letters and phone calls and texting, you know?” 

He says it all so casually while Wally and Bart are sharing increasingly concerned looks behind his back. 

Do the Waynes know about Danny? Has Tim never brought him up? Why? Does Danny know about Red Robin? Does Tim-

“Holy shit does this mean Tim has ice powers too!?” 

Or: Tim and Danny are twins. Through a series of coincidences, the first people to find out that aren’t Fentons or Drakes are the flashes.

(This post was brought to you by me recently finishing the 1995 Impulse run, and wanting an excuse to share this panel:

Look they both got called twinks clearly they're soulmates)

[darlingdaisyfarm]

I remember on ao3 you mentioned you wanted to post Stan and Ford reacting to readers death, I wanted to ask if you could share it please?<3

grief wears your name | Stan and Ford react to reader's death

Grief hits everyone differently and the Pines family is no exception. Old men arent supposed to outlive you

a/n: certainly! thank u for reminding me, tw: death

Stanley

you'd think that a man who’s been through as much as Stan Pines would’ve learned how to process grief by now. but the thing about Stan is, he doesn’t process it, not really. he pushes it down so deep that even he forgets it’s there, until it sneaks up and slams him flat on his ass.

fuck that, fuck everything, fuck this world

hell, he wasn’t supposed to outlive you. not you. not with all the shit he’d done to his body over the years, the cigarettes, the cheap booze, the sleepless nights every time he looked in the mirror. it was supposed to be him first. the old man with bad habits and a lifetime of regrets weighing him down. that was the deal, wasn’t it? you're too young, bright, stubborn, alive, you were supposed to outlast him. supposed to be there when his time came, rolling your eyes at his dramatics and holding his hand as he went. that’s how it was supposed to go, fucking fuck

he got the call from someone he didn’t recognize. a voice muttered words he couldn’t make sense of. your name. your fucking name. his ears rang, his head spun and his fingers gripped the receiver tightly

“what the fuck do you mean, gone?” the person on the other end tried to explain, but Stanley slammed the phone back onto the hook before they could finish. no. no.

you couldn’t be gone.

he saw you last week. he watched you smile at him across the counter, teasing him about his fez like you always did. he swore you winked at him before you left.

and now you were just. . . what? erased from existence?

grief had a way of making him ugly, uglier than he already saw himself. his hands shook as if he’d been drinking all night, but the bottle on the table was full and untouched. even the burn of whiskey couldn’t numb this, so what was the point?

Stanley thought about the kitten he’d brought home when he was ten. it was starving, ribs like piano keys beneath its dirty fur, the meows little animal let out were so pitiful. he'd sworn he’d take care of it, even made a little bed out of an old shoebox and named it tiger. he fed it milk behind his dad's back. tiger died three days later.

Stan felt useless, he couldn’t save anyone.

Stan hasn’t touched the fez since you died. it’s sitting there on the bedside table, gathering dust. you used to steal it all the time, yanking it off his head with a grin. “this thing’s ridiculous, Stan,” you’d tease, shoving it onto your head crookedly. “i’m the boss of scam now. bow to me.” and he always played along, rolling his eyes, calling you a pain in the ass, but you only laughed at that. that laughter was gone.

when Mabel asked him about you last night, he had to get up and leave the room because he wasn't ready for that. she was just a kid, trying to understand why the world was so unfair and he couldn’t give her an answer because he didn’t have one.

“grunkle Stan? do you think. . . do you think they’re still watching over us?” how could he tell her he didn’t believe in anything like that anymore? that you were just gone, snuffed out, like you’d never been here at all?

Mabel’s curled in his lap like she’s five again, clutching her sweater-covered arms around her knees, her face a swollen mess of tears and hiccupping sobs. her little voice is hoarse from crying and she tries to explain, through broken words, about the stupid sweater she’d been knitting for you. she just finished it. it was supposed to be a surprise. she was going to give it to you tomorrow.

Stan wraps his arms around her, calls her “pumpkin” in the softest voice he can manage, but it trembles. he squeezes his eyes shut so hard it makes his head hurt, he hopes if he can just keep them closed tight enough, none of this will be real. but it is. it fucking is. and he doesn’t know how to tell a twelve-year-old that the world is this fucking cruel. he doesn’t know how to admit he feels like that little boy again, the one with a kitten dying in his hands and nothing he could do to stop it.

he buries his face in Mabel’s brown hair and mutters some useless lie about how “it’s gonna be okay”

Mabel's face against his chest as she sobbed. Stan held her tighter.

“i made them a sweater, grunkle Stan. i-it’s pink with little stars and they- they said they'd wear it when it got cold,” her sobs swallowed the rest.

what could he say to that? what the hell could anyone say? “they loved your sweaters, kiddo. you know they did.” he wanted to picture you in that dumb pink sweater, smiling like you always did when you wanted to make Mabel feel special. but all he could see was you gone. gone. and nothing he could do would change it

Stanford

when he got the news about you, his meticulously constructed walls crumbled in an instant.

he sat at his desk, the journal open in front of him, its pages blurred by the tears he didn’t realize were falling. his hands shook as he gripped the pen, but the words just wouldn’t come.

he’d been taught from an early age that emotions were illogical. when he was younger, his father had told him to “quit being such a baby” after Ford cried over a broken model ship. that lesson had stuck

he locked himself in his study, the same place he’d last seen you. everything was still exactly where it had been. the chair you’d sat in. the pen you’d picked up and fiddled with while listening to him ramble. he’d always been embarrassed by how much he talked around you, because words came so easily when you were there.

the guilt was eating him from inside

was it his fault?

had he been too focused on his work, too distracted to notice that something was wrong? had he missed a chance to save you?

he needed answers. needed to know. what had happened? why had it happened?

he buried himself in research, poring over every detail of the accident or the incident, as he came to call it. his obsession grew, consuming him. he didn’t sleep. didn’t eat.

Stan found him one night, hunched over the desk, muttering to himself about alternate dimensions and cosmic energy. “Ford, this isn’t gonna bring them back.”

Ford didn’t respond because Stan was wrong.

Ford wasn’t trying to bring you back. he was trying to rewrite the universe so you’d never been gone in the first place

Dipper tries to talk to him one day, pulling at the hem of his vest clumsily. “grunkle Ford, is it okay to miss someone this much? like. . .this much that it hurts? my chest hurts.”

Stanford doesn’t know how to answer that. he doesn’t know how to explain the way grief wraps itself around your lungs and makes it impossible to breathe. “it is, Mason, it means they mattered.”

Dipper doesn’t see how Ford presses his hands to his temples when he leaves.

Ford’s always been good at pretending he’s fine.

Ford’s grief was quieter, but no less consuming. the guilt, the helplessness, the horrible emptiness that stretched wider every time he thought about how he’d failed to protect you.

he couldn’t stop thinking about all the times you’d parodied him, mimicking the way he pushed his glasses up his nose or how he’d say “actually” before correcting someone. “actually, Stanford Pines, you’re so predictable,” you’d giggle, tapping the bridge of your nose in a mocking gesture

you used to drive him insane with it, in good way. his face would flush, his words would stumble, and he’d act all huffy while secretly loving every second. he never told you how much he adored the way you made fun of him

he found one of your notebooks the other day. it was tucked under a pile of his old research papers, pages scrawled with your handwriting. you’d doodled little caricatures of him in the margins, stick-figure versions of Ford with six fingers and exaggerated glasses, accompanied by sarcastic captions like, “the nerdiest but prettiest man i ever knew”

he stared at those drawings until his vision blurred from tears. then he shoved the notebook in a drawer and locked it.

...

Ford disappears the next morning.

he knows it’s selfish, leaving Stan and the kids to deal with all of this without him, a part of family, but he can’t be in that house another second. the walls are suffocating. so he grabbed his coat, your coat, the one you used to borrow when you’d say his was warmer and walked, his feet already knew where they’re going.

the woods. the same path you always loved, where the sunlight filtered through the trees beautifully, where you used to point out birds or mushrooms or anything that caught your curious eye. you’d tug on his sleeve to make him stop and look. and god, you were so beautiful when you smiled at him like that. Ford adored you.

Ford doesn’t remember sitting down in the clearing where you used to spend time together, his knees in the dirt, fists clenched in the grass. he hadn’t cried when he found out, hadn’t even let himself feel it because there were too many faces looking at him like he was supposed to have answers. now there’s nothing but the woods, only memory of you and the sound of his own ragged breathing breaking into loud sobs

Ford cries like a child. raw, aching grief pouring out of him in waves, making his glasses fog up, slipping down his nose and he doesn’t bother fixing them. his body doesn’t know how to process this kind of pain. his hands too busy clawing at the ground, hoping he could dig deep enough to find you again.

Ford Pines, the man who always thought he could think his way out of anything, is completely unmade.

he doesn’t know how long he sits there, crumpled against the base of a tree. his hands tremble as he takes the notebook out of his coat pocket, the one he used to write down little things you’d say or do that he didn’t want to forget. he flips through it now, pages ruined with his tears and it hurts worse than anything else. your handwriting’s there, little notes you’d leave for him.

“don’t forget your glasses!”

“your hair looks cute today <3”

“i love you, Ford.”

he shuts the notebook and presses it to his chest, it's the only part of you he has left.

the stars above didn’t care. the trees didn’t care. the world kept turning, indifferent to the fact that you’d been torn from it.

and Ford was left there in the cold void, feeling smaller than he ever had in his life.

[arkhamsbrat]

family is a rough subject for both you and jason. you know why it’s hard for him, he’s explained it in painful detail. you’ve done the same, as terrifying as it was to go over everything again. your little sister is the roughest part.

you raised her, since your mom didn’t care to. taught her how to walk, talk, read and write. in all ways except legally and biologically, she was your kid. maybe you never wanted kids because you already had one in her. that’s why leaving your home state was the hardest decision of your life. escaping your parents was good for you… but it left her alone.

when a random number called you, you just had the urge to answer it.

it was hard for you to stay calm when the voice on the other end was your sister, in tears because your parents kicked her out. you had a friend who was still in town go pick her up immediately, sent them money to get her on a phone plan so she could stay in contact with you. jason had been so busy you didn’t think to tell him you were buying a ticket for her to come to you. you didn’t care for any denial, in truth.

you spent the next two hours on a rampage across your home, breaking a few glasses in your wake. it got to a point where you just collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. jason came home to see you in tears, broken glass at your side. “hey-baby, what happened?” your wet eyes flickered up to him and you just cried harder. “they kicked her out..” he thought for a moment before realizing. “your sister?” his hand moved to cup your cheek, gently wiping your tears away. “need me to buy her a ticket?”

why you ever question jason todd and his love for you is something that can never be answered.

jason doesn’t care about his space being intruded. he knows all about her, you constantly talk about her achievements. when he first visited your apartment, he thought you may have been a teen mother. not that it wouldve been an issue.

he sets up the living room into a makeshift bedroom while youre out one day. when you come home, hes honestly scared he fucked up. you just kept blinking at him. “what’s-what did you do?” you ask quietly. “i just… thought she’d want it to feel like an actual room? and not like she was couch surfing?” he watches you scan over the room with wide eyes before you start crying again. jason rushes over and wraps his arms around you, barely catching your whispered “thank you”s.

he’d never seen you two in person- your parents had banned you from seeing her when you moved out. that’s why i think jason is shocked the first time he sees you with your little sister. no matter how old she gets you cradle her cheeks and kiss her head. years had passed, she was so much bigger.

jason watches silently, seeing you pull her into the kitchen while she cries. “they kicked me out…” he sees how your jaw sets, but you keep your voice soft as you cradle her. “y’gonna stay with me, okay?”

“but what about…” she drones off, eyes moving towards the living room. “jayce.” you call out, waiting for him to hum in acknowledgment. “can she stay with us?” barely a second passed before he responded. “as long as she needs to.”

your sister cries harder against your shoulder, and you shush her gently. “i got you, ladybug… promise.” jason can see the tears in your eyes that are barely held back as you hold her tight.

jason’s never loved you more than he does right now.

[jsxjmn]

Younger Uchinaga - Chapter Twenty

Synopsis: When Aespa Giselle's younger sister made her debut as a member of the international girl group Katseye, and caught the attention of Aespa's beloved leader.

- Han River

──────────── ⋆⋅ ☾ ⋅⋆ ────────────

Y/N’POV

I'm on my way back to the dorm from a meeting at HYBE. I'm very stressed; they want me to do something I don't want to do. I told them several times that I didn't want to do it, but instead of listening, they just gave me time to think about it.I was deep in thought when the taxi driver informed me that we had arrived.

"That would be 9,000 won, ma'am," he said, smiling at me. "Here," I handed him 10,000 won. "Keep the change, sir," I said, opening the car door. "Thank you, ma'am," he murmured before I closed the door.

I walked inside the building and was met by the guard who opened the door for me. "Good evening ma'am, Miss Yu just came back 5 minutes ago before you, she's with a man," the guard stated, confusing me. "Thank you, have a nice evening," I smiled at him before continuing to the elevator.

"A man? Who could it be? If I remember correctly, their manager is a girl; perhaps they have a new one." I entered the elevator and pressed the button for Aespa's apartment floor.

"It's probably a new manager, since they have their own individual activity now." The door opened, signaling that I was already on the apartment floor. I exited the elevator and walked towards the apartment.

I opened the door with the key Giselle unnie gave me, still thinking about what the guard had said. When I opened the door, I saw something that surprised me. Karina and his ex-boyfriend, Jae Wook, kissing.

Karina immediately pushed him when she noticed me "Aera, this is not what you're thinking" Karina said heading towards me "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you" I muttered before slamming the door and dash to the elevator

“Aera, please! Listen to me!" I heard Karina shouting while following me, but I ignored her and entered the elevator, closing it instantly. I caught a glimpse of her before the elevator entirely closed.

"Why do I feel this way? We're not together," I said, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Maybe she didn't mean what she said last night; perhaps it was just a prank. I'm so stupid that I believed her," I told myself. The door opened, and I heard a gasp. I looked up and saw Winter Unnie, who looks worn out from her recent schedule.

"Aera? Are you alright?"She was going to hug me when I dodge her and run away.

"Aera! wait!" She yelled, but I didn't stop; instead, I grabbed a taxi and got inside. The driver was shocked, but I just ordered him to drive. I looked out the window and saw Minjeong unnie, who looks worried. I just look at my lap I feel so stupid.

When I saw Aeri unnie's message, I couldn't help but cry since I betrayed her by having a something with one of her members "I could destroy their group what am I even thinking!" I cried, hugging my legs at the side of Han River.

“maybe i should just do what the company wants me to do”

earlier…

“Good evening, Miss. The CEO are waiting for you at his office” The HYBE Secretary told me “Okay, thank you” I said before walking towards the door of his office

"You arrived just in time. Have a seat," he said, motioning me to sit on the sofa. I did what he stated and sat down on the sofa, with him seated in front of me. "How are you? How is your arm?" He questioned, and I looked at my arm and responded, "I'm good, just doing well in my sister's dorm."

"Speaking of, that is one of matters I'd like to discuss," he remarked openly. “What is it, Sir?” I asked him, "I want you to leave there, and I'll arrange an apartment for you." He said, "May I ask why?" I asked him. "You see, we have a rivalry with SM entertainment, and I don't want them to think that we aren't taking care of you." He said

"And since you're already here, I'll go straight to the point. I want you to date someone," he stated, which surprised me. “What do you mean?"I asked him.

"You see, our company is under fire right now after what newjeans have done, and we'll simply cover it up with a dating issue," he said standing up and looking at the busy road of Seoul through the glass wall.

"Why do you want me to do it?" I don't want to," I said with venom in my voice. "I mean, if you don't want to, we'll tell Megan to do it," he said, making me furious. "Megan?"I asked him.

"Yes, Megan.” He looked at me and added, "So think carefully, Uchinaga." He fixed his necktie. "I'll give you some time to think," he said, patting my shoulder and handing me a paper before exiting the room.

~~

I was about to call Aeri unnie to pick me up when a message from Megan pop up. She sent me a picture of her

“We‘ll tell Megan to do it” The CEO’s voice rang inside my head

I looked at the a picture Megan sent me. "You look so happy, my mei, and I will not let anyone take that happiness away from you, even if it means taking away my own.”

The only reason why i don’t want to accept it is because of Karina. Now i don’t have any reason not to.

I took out the paper that the CEO had given me and dialed it. It took three rings until someone picked it up: "Hello, this is Katseye's Y/N. Meet me at the Han River"

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ps. don't mind the typos

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[existential-crisis-of-the-mind]

Crush Culture (Tim Drake x F!Reader Pt 1 )

Prompt: Tim’s finally mustered up the courage to confess to his crush. Armed with contradictory, questionable advice from all his brothers what could possibly go wrong? (1.3k words)

Tim’s got himself a reputation for his wits. He’s known in the family for his quick thinking and uncanny ability of uncovering the optimal solution in a record amount of time. 

He isn’t some prodigal child as some like to think. No, he had to hone his talents through countless hours of analysis and research. Be it mastering the technical know how of the latest gadgets on the black market, or his laser point accuracy in predicting an enemy’s next move in a fight, there was nothing that Tim couldn’t decipher without some investigation.

Well, except perhaps the current conundrum he found himself in.

It’s been a while since Tim concluded he has a crush on you. All the signs were there, the mix of anticipation and excitement that courses through him whenever he makes plans to hang out with you. The way blood rushes to his cheeks when you compliment him on something. Then there’s the fact you’re the first person he thinks of when he’s got good news to share. And perhaps the finally nail in the coffin is how lately, he finds his mind wandering to thoughts of you, and instead of pushing them away he finds himself soaking in the warm sunshine feelings they evoke.

Coming to terms with his feelings wasn’t the hard part, it was what comes after which proved to be tricky for Tim.

Ever since he established that he likes you more than a friend, he came to the conclusion that he ought to confess his feelings. He wanted to know if you felt the same, he wanted to explore what more than friends would look like, if that were to be a possibility. 

Now this was fairly uncharted territory for Tim. His adolescent years were characterised by an emotionally constipated father, chaotic siblings and patrolling the streets of Gotham in Spandex in the twilight hours. All of this didn’t leave much room for day dreaming about crushes or exploring most of those teenage firsts with someone else.3

Tim’s usual go-to method of internet research quickly reached a dead end when the first 2 questions he searched up immediately led him to Manosphere content. He would much rather avoid the red pill blue pill route thank you.

He didn’t want to sit down and have any sort of painfully awkward ‘talk’ with his dad about any of this either. He could already picture Bruce grimacing at the mere thought of entertaining such questions. 

But perhaps none of that needs to be a roadblock. He’s lucked out with not one but two older siblings, Dick and Jason. There’s also his younger sibling, Damian, and though the boy seems to mostly be made of sarcasm and snark, he can be mature when he wants to.

Now, would Tim consider them to be fully functional, well adjusted members of society? Dick yes, the others could pass for that on good days, yes. But surely between the three of them they ought to have some good advice for a brother in a rut right?

“Girls like a guy who’s got a bit of mystery about him. Don’t reveal all your secrets, you need to keep her guessing” Jason uttered sagely. Though his wiseman schtick was being somewhat undermined what with the way he had his feet kicked up on the dinner table. His breakfast choice of pancakes with an all too generous serving of whipped cream wasn’t doing him any favours either. Not that Tim was gonna point that out.

“You need to be attentive, show that you care by being a good listener. You must know what she likes, maybe you should surprise her with her favourite flowers or her favourite drink” Dick chimed in from his seat opposite to Jason. 

“You’re still stuck in your Rom-Com Hallmark film era” Jason huffed in response, shaking his head in disappointment.

“I’d advice you not be corny, but that would be futile given that’s your perpetual state of being” Damian remarked in a neutral tone before taking a bite of his eggs. Right. Tim just gonna’s chalk that up as Damian’s attempt at being helpful.

Dick snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up as he leans in conspiratorially “Humour! A good sense of humour always does the trick. You can put her at ease by making her laugh”

“I believe it’s a dry sense of humour that’s in today. Sarcasm, when done right can look real smooth” Jason counters, as he languidly rocks in his chair.

The conversation pauses when the boys hear footsteps. Bruce emerges from the hall, the shadow under his eyes coupled with his stubbled jaw serving as evidence of his late night patrol. “Oh you’re all down already? What have you been-“ 

“Tim has a crush but he needs advice on how to confess cause he doesn’t know how” Damian states flatly before Bruce is able to finish his question. 

Tim all but sputters at Damian, who pointedly avoids eye contact with him as he brushes off an imaginary piece of dust off his cardigan. 

Bruce freezes for a moment before slowly, almost mechanically turning to face Tim. There’s a beat of eye contact, before he gives a stiff nod at Tim’s reddening face.

“Alright… seems like your brothers have you covered. I’ll leave you to it” he remarks before turning on his heel. He seems more relieved than Tim that he’s got an excuse to sit this one out.

“Don’t forget the patrol schedule for tonight” he calls out as he walks away. Tim has a feeling that’s the reason Bruce came into the kitchen in the first place.

After a few more helpful(?) anecdotes shared by his brothers, Jason stands up to stretch, “Right, time for me to go brush up on some fighting tactics”. Damian perks up at his words, seemingly ready to follow.

As the brothers begin to vacate the kitchen, Dick offers Tim a bright smile, signalling a thumbs up as he mouths ‘You got this’.

Right. Be nice and welcoming, but also mysterious. But not standoffish. Be warm but not overly familiar either in case he comes off as corny. That’s easy. He’s totally not nervous after that. Tim rapidly taps his fingers on the table, the motion an attempt to distract himself as his mind swims through all the information he gathered to figure out an optimal solution.

His phone buzzes, pulling him out of his internal monologue. Oh look at that, it’s a call from (Name). Perfect.

Tim takes a steading breath before answering.

[ladysharmaa]

Wild Hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Forks had quickly become Evelyn's favorite place. That day, the rain fell gracefully, creating small puddles of water on the ground and making the forest landscape outside the dark blonde's bedroom window even more mysterious. She hadn't explored the city much yet, but she hoped to be able to do so in the next few days.

She got a ride from Angela and Jessica to school, and the three of them had become quite close. One of the biggest reasons was that they had formed an alliance against the trio of Mike, Eric, and Tyler.

On the other hand, Alice also greeted her every day when she saw her in the hallway, and she had even seen Rosalie give her a small smile. It was somewhat surprising because Evelyn was sure that the blonde didn't like her, although Eve didn't know what she had done wrong. The one who didn't talk to her much was Jasper, even after they had gotten along when they walked to class together.

After saying goodbye to her friends, who had a different class than her, Evelyn headed to history class. The truth is that classes were a pain, not that they weren't interesting, but Evelyn couldn't pay attention for long, quickly getting lost in her thoughts. Besides, the words all got mixed up in her head, so trying to read the school books was very frustrating.

Evelyn then sat down at an empty table, resting her chin on her hand and looking around while she waited for the teacher to arrive. She entertained herself watching the other students, who were chatting animatedly since the class hadn't started yet.

However, her attention was diverted when Jasper pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, looking at her with a small smile.

"Hey, Jasper. How are you?"

"Hello, Evelyn." The vampire felt his chest tighten, and had to remind himself that he had to breathe in to maintain his disguise as a human. But Evelyn's smile, directed at him, drove him crazy. "I'm good, thank you. And you, darling?"

"I'm fine too! Really loving Forks. I'm planning on going for a walk here, maybe exploring the forest a bit."

"You should be careful, the forest can be dangerous." the boy warned worriedly. However, Evelyn couldn't answer because the teacher had finally arrived.

The subject was interesting, they were talking about the Civil War. However, and nothing new, Evelyn ended up getting distracted and missed what the professor was explaining, until she heard her name mentioned. She jumped in her chair, seeing that the whole class and the teacher were looking at her, waiting.

"Excuse me, can you repeat that?" Evelyn was sure that her face was completely red with embarrassment. Jasper, next to her, watched the situation with a frown. He didn't like feeling those feelings from his mate.

He sighed. "I asked you to read the document and tell me about the key turning points of the Civil War. Today, Miss Miller, preferably."

The girl looked at the board and her breathing quickened. As she already knew it was going to happen, although she still hoped for a miracle to happen, the words all got mixed up, preventing her from understanding what the professor wanted her to say.

The class was completely silent, watching the teacher lose his patience with the new student. "Well?" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, it's just that my dyslexia…"

Jasper was getting more and more irritated at seeing Evelyn's discomfort. Then, he leaned forward slightly, his voice low but carrying a strange, commanding weight. “The Battle of Gettysburg was the turning point for the Union. Lee's defeat ended the Confederacy's advance into the North and marked the beginning of their decline.”

The teacher raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “That's correct, but I didn't know your name was also Evelyn, Mr. Hale." Small chuckles echoed around the room. Evelyn only blushed more at this, looking at Jasper who seemed unaffected by the looks he was receiving. "But what made Gettysburg so significant?"

His Southern accent was even more noticeable as he continued. “It wasn't just the loss of troops. The morale of the Confederate Army took a hit they never recovered from. Combine that with the Union’s growing industrial advantage and—” He paused, as though catching himself. “Well, the outcome became inevitable.”

The teacher seemed slightly taken aback. “Well, that’s… very detailed, Jasper. Nice work.”

When the teacher resumed teaching, Evelyn was able to jump from her seat to hug the blond. “Thank you so much, Jasper. You didn’t have to do that. I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“You didn’t put me in anything, Evelyn. Don’t worry about it.” Jasper tried to soothe Evelyn’s concern with his gift.

“No, I truly am sorry. It’s just that school is always so hard for me. I have… I have trouble learning.” she whispered, looking away from the vampire’s amber eyes.

“I can help you, if you want.” Anything to get closer to the girl. "I can explain the topics to you so you don't have to read anything."

"Would you mind doing that?" Eve asked hopefully. When he nodded, she straightened her back in excitement. "I really appreciate it. Thank you, Jasper. You're very sweet."

If Jasper were human, he was sure he would be blushing by now. After so many years alone, he had finally found his mate. She was so much better than any version of her he had ever imagined. Her beauty, both internal and external, the way she was so easy to make blush, her confidence. She was simply perfect. And he was a monster who didn’t deserve her.

He should leave her alone, he knew that. She couldn’t be with someone like him. But it was so hard resisting their bond. He didn’t know if that would ever be possible, for now, he was simply enjoying the moment.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Evelyn was standing by the lockers with Jessica and Angela, Jessica telling them about the latest school gossip. Evelyn wasn't the biggest fan of gossip, because since she didn't want anyone to get involved in her life, she didn't want anyone else's either.

A group entering the school caught her attention. It was the Cullens, talking quietly, but apparently a little angrily, among themselves. Edward looked at her, his eyes frustrated for some reason. Alice, following her brother's line of sight, waved at Evelyn and motioned for her to come over.

"Sorry, I'm just going to say hello to Alice. You can tell me the rest at lunch, Jessica." she said, starting to take a step toward the Cullens, but Jessica's voice stopped her.

"You're going to say hello to Alice Cullen?" Jessica shrieked. Evelyn looked at her with wide eyes, nodding slowly. "How did you manage to talk to them? Since the moment they arrived, they haven't spoken to anyone!"

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, Jessica. They're all very nice." The dark blonde replied, and without giving Jessica time to continue, she walked towards the vampire family. "Good morning."

She received a greeting from everyone, and a smile from Jasper that made her heart race. His pained expression lessened as Evelyn approached.

She didn't know how it was possible to know him for such a short time and feel such a strong connection with him. As if she wanted to spend every second of the day with him. It was a very strange feeling.

Emmett and Lucas exchanged a smile when they saw his brother completely in love with the girl. He looked like a puppy, all that was missing was wagging his tail when he saw his owner.

Alice, rolling her eyes at her boyfriend and brother's antics, crossed her arms with Evelyn's and started walking down the hallway. Rosalie stood on the other side of Evelyn, her face a little more serious.

"I love your outfit, Rosalie. You have to tell me where you got that sweater." Evelyn complimented sincerely.

"Thanks." The blonde smiled at Evelyn, also crossing her arm with the girl's. She really wasn't that bad, even though she was human. And her scent was so calming to be near, it made you forget about the tempting blood of other people.

The boys, who were left behind, opened their mouths in shock when they saw the vampire's action. Emmett kept hitting Jasper's arm, and if he wasn't a vampire, he would have been thrown back. But Jasper didn't even feel Emmett's hand, his gaze fixed on his mate. She managed to win everyone's hearts.

"Oh!" Alice gave a small excited squeal. "We have to go shopping together! How about today?"

"Sure! It should be fun. I haven't had much time to get to know the city yet."

"Why?" Rosalie asked curiously.

"I've been working at a dinner nearby." Evelyn informed. "And it takes up a lot of my time, especially since I have to study afterwards."

"Well, today we'll take you to Seattle to do some shopping! Shall we meet at the school entrance after lunch?" Alice suggested, receiving confirmation from the other two.

With a wave, they went their separate ways to their classes.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

As she had expected, her day with the two Cullens had been one of Evelyn's best days in Forks so far. They had gone through all the stores in the mall, and even after Evelyn bought a scarf, Rosalie and Alice had insisted on buying her a warm coat. After much insistence, Evelyn finally agreed. The two had also bought some things for themselves and left the store when it was already dark, all holding huge bags.

Rose and Eve laughed at a joke Alice had made, the three of them having become very close friends that afternoon. On their way to the car, they saw the rest of the Cullen siblings, except for Edward. Jasper, Emmett, and Lucas were leaning against a black Volvo, arms crossed over their chests and waiting for the girls. The two vampires hurried to get to their boyfriends, while Evelyn followed a little behind with a big smile. She felt so happy. She had met so many people who were already so important to her in such a short time.

Jasper walked over to her, offering to carry the bags. Evelyn handed them to him, watching him put them in the trunk of his car. "You girls had fun?"

"So much fun! We have to do it again!" Alice exclaimed. Evelyn giggled, and Jasper was sure it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It sounded like an angel singing, he would do anything to hear Evelyn giggle again.

"Well, maybe we'll go in my car and Jasper can drive Evelyn home." Rosalie said, the other agreeing. After saying goodbye with a hug to both Rosalie and Alice, Eve got in Jasper's car.

The two of them were silent, but it was comforting. Music blared through the car as Jasper drove, his attention intent on the road.

"We have a history test next week." The vampire broke the silence, glancing at the girl in the passenger seat. "If you want, I can help you study like we talked about."

"That would be great! Would you like tomorrow? I have to work, but then we could go to my place," she offered. But when Jasper didn't respond immediately, she began to ramble. "Or not. It's up to you. Whenever you want, really. I just made that suggestion, but you can say no—"

"Evelyn." He interrupted her speech with a chuckle. The way he said her name gave her chills. "Tomorrow would be fine. Your parents don't mind if I go to your house?"

"I live alone. So maybe around five o'clock?"

Jasper nodded. The two didn't speak again during the drive, both lost in their thoughts. When they arrived at Evelyn's house, Jasper gripped the steering wheel tighter. The house was quite old, and didn't seem to be in the best condition. He tried not to show on his face the emotions he felt when he saw where his mate lived. She deserved to live in a castle, not here.

He would give her anything she wanted.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Weird question, but I was wondering if we could get some cute facts for the polys (but with head cannons as how the partners interact without/when MC isn't around)

Ooooh I love this question thank you!! Answers below the cut because I'm prone to writing essays and this got long <3

Beck & Perri:

I've joked recently that they're a bonded pair and this doesn't change once MC is in the picture and their relationship becomes romantic--it simply becomes a bonded trio.

And by this, I mean that Beck and Perri will nearly always be found together in their free time.

They do have their own lives and homes and groups of friends, of course, but they've been best friends since middle school and they really do prefer to be together when they can.

Beck is so, so gentle with Perri.

More gentle than Beck ever thought he could be.

And, in a similar vein, Perri is protective of Beck to the point of being fierce.

It's a little out of character for both of them, but they're a team, and it works.

(MC will also be able to experience this on both ends <3)

I think in their polyship, both Beck and Perri will end up putting in a lot of work to make sure MC feels included. They both love MC so much, and they don't want MC ending up feeling like a third wheel.

But, when MC isn't around, I think they fall right back into their usual habits. Inside jokes, teasing one another, referencing stories from the 6th grade--that sort of thing.

Beck's family adores Perri, but Perri's grandmother thinks Beck is a bad influence.

Kissing one another is literally something neither of them have ever thought about until MC comes along, despite the fact that they're so close. Having someone around who sees them both in a romantic light really makes a lightbulb go off in both of their heads.

Jay & Ravi

Okay so these two didn't become friends until after high school. As a teen Ravi was this quiet shy weirdo while Jay was outgoing and friendly and popular. They didn't run in the same circles.

But once they kicked up a friendship it went fast.

Both of them had been spending a long time looking for something, and they found it in one another.

Ravi needed to connect to another human being. It had been so long, and he was freezing up inside. Becoming completely numb.

Jay needed somebody who knew what was going on but who wasn't on the S&R team. Someone who could challenge them to see things in a bit of a new light, but who could also care about them beyond just what they do for other people.

They actually disagree on a lot! They're very different people. I'm really eager to write the differing ways that MC will be able to work through this--either by taking sides, or by smoothing things over, or by fanning the flames. It'll be fun!

Jay did not see Ravi romantically at all before MC came into the picture. They loved him, sure--he was their best friend--but nothing else. Ravi, on the other hand...hm. It's complicated.

I think Ravi saw the potential for something, but he never would have gone for it without MC. Ever. Too much potential for pain.

Jay reminds Ravi of his ex.

The relationship between Jay and Ravi once the poly route has started is going to depend heavily on late-game events. Which will be delicious.

But overall they'll be very tentative with one another, once they're in a relationship with one another & MC. Shy, but curious to explore this new thing they've got going on.

Jay & Yasmin

I'm going to talk about both the V and Triad routes in the same list because this is already long enough but!!

As I've discussed in-game, Jay and Yasmin have been friends since they were tiny! Alongside Yasmin's dead husband, Seth. Which means that their relationship now is...complicated. In ways I'm pretty excited to get into in the story itself.

For Yasmin, the V route is ideal. She finds MC charming and she adores Jay, Jay's her best friend. In theory. Why not share a partner? I think she'll be very teasing about it, but also she'd be thrilled for Jay and MC.

Jay's feelings on the matter will be slightly more complex. They don't mind that MC is seeing Yasmin, too. Not at all. But they do feel like...well. Maybe Yas is taking this opportunity to avoid talking about the issues between the two of them. For someone so direct she sure can avoid talking about her feelings.

The triad route is a bit different, though!!

Jay and Yasmin adore one another. Genuinely, despite the baggage.

Dating one another alongside MC will be a net positive for them both, once they've figured out their issues (both personal and with one another). They're genuinely a power couple and they'd dote on MC soooooo much.

But, we're talking about them without MC!

One fun fact is that, unlike the other polyships, Jay and Yasmin have thought about dating in the past. They never would have taken that plunge without MC--when the story starts, that's long in the past.

Specifically F!Jay and Yasmin kissed one time when they were teenagers, to 'see what it's like'. This was before either of them figured out that they're queer lol, so they walked away blushing and just like 'huh that was interesting let's never do it again!!!'.

The way it shakes out: Jay had a crush on Yasmin before she and Seth started dating when they were all in school. Yasmin had the inklings of feelings for Jay right after Seth disappeared.

It was never the right time, though, and both of their feelings have long since faded. That is, until a mysterious stranger walks into their lives...

[mumblesplash]

uh oh 👀👀👀

Z shines like an angel in the light of the burning debris falling around him. A grin on his face and a lit bomb in hand—unleashed.

S watches him fondly from the cover of a street pole

It's good to see him like this, she thinks. Even if it can't last for long.

"Back up a bit, Z!"

The voice of T-piece slices S from her reveries. She points her shotgun towards the club entrance, covering Z's retreat.

The brass grate road is scattered with the remains of a carriage and the mechanical steeds that once pulled it. Looking at the corpse of the alternate inside it—her own—S knows that Z's intervention came just in time. Even in death, the clone is fuzzy around the edges. There must've been two or three universes intersecting at that point already, and the rot was about to burst.  If the clone had been allowed to lay eyes on S-prime…well, it’s a good thing Z got there first!

In through a crack in the base of S's mind flows a steady trickle of new memories—a whole life lived under violet skies—ended in flames within the carriage before her now.  Samantha.

S dashes those memories away with a hum of her favorite showtune. It shouldn't be this easy, but she's had a lot of practice.

An L-clone crawls sobbing from the wreckage. Burnt and broken, with too many limbs and more and more eyes with each passing second—

S unloads into its center mass, stopping the reaction short. A satisfying gurgle rewards her.

This world is more spoiled than we thought, S muses.

Not that she cares all that much. It's one of those tech worlds that's killed most of its plants—S-prime couldn't even find a window-box to poach.  Useless. It's been too long since she's had something new to add to the garden—

"S, on your right!"

A rush of air as someone sweeps past S's side. The familiar smell of sweat. Bare shoulders glistening in the violet city lights.

T-piece bounds over the wreckage like a young god of war, one hand swinging a metal bat and the other wielding a set of brass knuckles edged with an outward-facing blade—a trench spike. T dives low, a practiced movement taking them just under the spread of her shotgun. S fires again into the chest of the Z-clone running out of the club. She feels more than sees T-piece taking down somone in her periphery. The crunch of impact sounds suspiciously non-fatal—so it's probably some world resident looking to make themselves a hero that he's dealing with.

Whoever you are, be thankful sweet T-piece dealt with you before you got to me.

More bodies stream out of the club’s open doors, dressed in glitter and glass and wearing faces of panic—none of them known to her.  S lets them flow around her unscathed.  A twisting pair of Z-clones emerges and S is ready to meet them.

From down the street charge a gaggle of familiar faces—but before S can more than register them out of the corner of her eye a series of muffled shots drops them one by one.

Mighty I-prime.  Efficient as always. The bastard.

A second later one of Z's bombs belatedly lands on the corpses and detonates.

"You fucking show off!" Z shouts towards I-prime's position above. "I had this!"

No reply save smug silence.   

"Of course you did, darling," S says, turning to cover the other end of the street. "You're where you're supposed to be, unlike someone."

S waits for T-piece to tell them to focus, to save it for the post-mission angry sex (which never really works out the pressure points but it does soothe them for awhile)—but this time…

He doesn't.

Strange.

S's watch blares a sudden alarm—one short blast and three longs. She has scant moments to shield her face with a forearm before J is released from the Hold.

The windows on the ground floor of the club all shatter at once. A hailstorm of knives whistles above S's head. A warm mist settles over her skin—the blood of alternates, shed from J's blades as they fly by.

S whoops from adrenaline and delight. Z answers her with a cackle, his laughter rising up like a firework ascending to beautiful destruction.  Z reaches up into the gap between the worlds and pulls down a string of firecrackers.  He races towards the club doors and the battle beyond, lighting fuses as he flies.

“Wait!” T-piece screams. “Z, stop!”

S gets it a moment later.

In the street around the club they’ve encountered alternates of I, of herself, of L and J.  Coming out of the  club, however…

It’s just been Z.

We knew most of the Z-clones would be inside, that’s why we were supposed to cover down the street, not the entrance!

S bellows Z’s name.

All those Z-clones, in a world this badly spoiled—if they see their prime, is that a chain reaction we can even stop?

Z turns his head towards their cries.  S prays for him to understand—

But before Z has a chance to stop himself, a higher power intervenes.

Emerald vines, thick as a wrist and lined with sharp prickles, burst from a fold in space beneath Z’s feet and entangle him.  Z hollers in shock and in pain—but is halted.

“What the fuck?” Z calls, thrashing against the Hold.

S rushes to him.  Fuck the fight, fuck the mission, and fuck I-piece for being in the wrong damn spot!

And T-piece doesn’t stop her.  S glimpses them as her feet fly.  T stands still and upright in the haze of blood and viscera.  Their eyes carry a blunt anger that burns even from S’s periphery.

“Hold the line!” T-piece shouts.  “I’m gonna find I.  And have a talk.”

S doesn’t turn back to respond, only raising a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

Later, that will haunt her.  That she didn’t turn to see T go.

On the bloody brass street S faces Z, furious and helpless, and embraces him.  She presses her body against his thorns and nips at the lobe of his ear.      

“I fucked up,” Z breathes into her neck.

“I know, darling.  It’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” Z repeats.  “I'm alright. Hold the line.”

“I know.”

One more squeeze—to make them both yelp, to intermingle the blood from fresh scratches, to remind Z that pain is nothing but together they are everything—and S returns her focus to the broken windows before her.

T-piece is right, S thinks.  Z's right. Gotta focus. We can't go losing worlds for dumb reasons.

The idle thought slips through her brain like a trout through a stream, unopposed and unquestioned. It's something S simply knows—the same way she knows what dolphins are and who Judy Garland is and how the Martian Civil War was lost and that plants need light to grow.

Wouldn't want the Boss getting angry.

alright here's the rundown. more detailed version coming soon probably. the things i do for you guys

(transcript of prologue below the cut)

It's a lavender sky this time, this world. A lavender sky deepening to aubergine over a city of neon and brass. It's beautiful in it's way, just like any other city on any other world.

I-prime hasn't bothered to learn its name.

He stands in the hotel window, watching the burnished streets below gleam with fading light. The rhythmic thrum beneath his feet signals the rousing of the club below. They're playing a song that I has never heard in his life, yet part of him remembers it all the same.

The blank-faced watch on his wrist chimes a single long tone. I-piece taps its face without taking his eyes off the path into the nightclub.

"Hello, T."

"You're not in position," T says through the speaker. Their voice betrays none of the frustration that I knows he must feel.

"I'm where I need to be," I-prime says.

"We talked about this—"

"Yes, you talked, that's what you do. I make decisions."

T-piece's response is cut off by further chimes from the watch. Short, long, short, short—then the voice of L comes through.

"There's no time," she says. "The Boss just Held onto J. It's on, it's now."

"As expected," says I.

With a snap of his fingers the air before him splits. I-prime reaches into the crack between two universes and retrieves his sniper rifle. He looks down its sights, out the window, down the gleaming street.

Someone approaches the door to the club. A tall, svelt man with a face that I-prime is so sick of seeing other people wear.

I wonder what this one's named, I-prime muses as he lines up the shot.

Izaak? Ignacius? Indigo?

As he pulls the trigger on himself from another life, I-prime knows it doesn't matter what this alternate is called.

He lost track of their names a long time ago.

[coimbrabertone]

Offtopic Offseason #4 - Clone Wars Rewatch Thoughts: Part II.

So, the Clone Wars rewatch.

I'm about halfway through season five now and God the show got an amazing glow-up in the later seasons.

The timeskip in the middle of season three is a big one but I didn't realize that it was actually somewhat staggered - Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka get their redesigns in S3E10, but the Clone Troopers don't go to the Phase II armor until season four. We also don't really see many clones in the Mon Calamari episodes or on Naboo, so the Phase II armor doesn't really get focus until the Umbara arc.

From that point onwards season four is amazing. Season four is my favorite of the original run and overall, it's up there with season seven - and that's high praise considering the Siege of Mandalore arc in the series finale is some of my favorite Star Wars content period, not just in Clone Wars, but in general.

It's got Maul, it's got Mandalore, it's got Ahsoka, and it ties directly into Revenge of the Sith. What more could you want?

In fact, just before writing this I saw a clip on twitter of the moment Rex gets Order 66 and the RotS music kicks in and it's just...chef's kiss.

The animation is beautiful, the characters are fully fleshed out and realized at this point, and we get to experience the high drama of Revenge of the Sith from their perspective. It's wonderful.

Tying into Revenge of the Sith, there's also the main thing I wanted to talk about today: the Clone Wars saves Anakin's character.

Already from Attack of the Clones we see a dark, brooding Anakin that's chaffing against Obi-Wan's teachings, that can't control himself around Padme, and the darkness in him is obvious. Sure, the Jedi didn't know exactly what Anakin did to the Tusken Raiders, but we literally see Yoda and Mace Windu feeling the ripples in the Force and instantly knowing it was Anakin.

Then, after that, Anakin tries to derail the hunt for Dooku on Geonosis because of Padme, and Obi-Wan has to literally scream at him to keep him on mission. Obi-Wan literally yells "You'll be expelled from the Jedi Order!" but then we never see the Jedi follow up on this. Sure, Episode III implies that Obi-Wan knew about it and kept quiet, but we never really see a justification as to why.

Episode III tries to make up for this by showing some friendly banter between Obi-Wan and Anakin, particularly while they're rescuing the Chancellor, but it doesn't really land - especially not since we see Anakin get angry at the Council to their faces after the whole master thing. Not to mention his connections to Palpatine, him killing Dooku, and the fact that he's clearly troubled during his meditations with Yoda.

In short, the Anakin we see in the movies is clearly troubled, clearly going down a dark path, and nobody seems to give a shit about it. They just let this problem keep steamrolling until it's at the Jedi Temple committing Order 66.

Now, this is not a ridicule against Hayden Christensen, because he's doing what he's told to do. In fact, I'd say that Hayden Christensen plays Anakin's dark moments better than Matt Lanter does in Clone Wars.

What Matt Lanter does, however, is show Anakin's redeeming characteristics.

Clone Wars has the time to go out and show that Anakin has a charming side, a funny side, that he cares about his friends, and that he's an immense asset for the Republic war effort. We see enough moments between Anakin and Obi-Wan that it becomes clear why his master would give him the benefit of the doubt, and there are even a few reasons why Yoda and Mace Windu would give him a bit of a leash.

And, as many people have pointed out before, the whole drama with how Ahsoka left the Jedi Order just as she was about to become a Knight means that Anakin did fully train a Padawan. He did all the work to be considered a Master, but because of the Council's actions during the Sabotage arc, he's screwed out of the rank. This means it is an outrage, it is unfair.

Anakin's not being a petulant child, he's getting cheated out of a rank because the Council doesn't trust him.

There's also the fact that a lot of Anakin's dark moments in Clone Wars, particularly early on, are because he's trying to save his friends. He Force Chokes Poggle the Lesser to save Ahsoka from the brain worms, he strikes first and brands himself a cold-blooded killer because Tal Merrik is threatening to blow up the ship, and in the Mortis arc, Anakin turns to the Dark Side now in a misguided attempt to stop the greater evil of him becoming Darth Vader.

The show establishes early on with the Lair of Grievous episode that the war is driving the Jedi closer and closer to the Dark Side, and that includes Anakin. The war gives him convenient excuses for going for the dark option over and over again.

Then we get the Zygerrian slavers arc and the Obi-Wan undercover arc back to back.

We see Obi-Wan and Ahsoka get uncomfortable with Anakin's actions during the slavers arc, but he's given the benefit of the doubt because one: Obi-Wan knows his freudian excuse, and two: the slavers are objectively terrible.

Then just after Anakin gets dragged through that stressful situation, he's thrown into another one as the Council fakes Obi-Wan's death and sends him undercover, all without telling Anakin. When he does find out, Obi-Wan fails to address Anakin's real concerns. This sets up for Episode III perfectly because it erodes Anakin's trust in the Council, makes Obi-Wan part of that mistrust, and drives Anakin closer to Palpatine.

Palpatine, who is clearly taking an interest in Anakin's duel with Count Dooku.

Stuff like this gives Anakin a slower, more believable fall to the Dark Side.

Now consider the fact that the Clovis episodes of season six were originally meant to be early in season five before getting temporarily canned. This means that not long after Zygerria and the undercover plot, we'd get an arc focusing on Anakin's increasingly toxic and possessive side with Padme.

Hitting the dark notes one by one...and then the Sabotage arc serves to take Anakin's Padawan away.

He's losing his trust in Obi-Wan, he doesn't trust the Council at all after they were ready to blame the bombing on Ahsoka, and his relationship with Padme is taking an unhealthy turn - and on top of all that, Anakin just lost a positive influence in his life. Ahsoka isn't there to keep him responsible and to provide a check on his actions.

Anakin's alone, but Palpatine's there, whispering the Dark Side into his ears.

Then, as we go into the events of Episode III, a returning Ahsoka is sent to Mandalore to fight Maul along with Rex, while Obi-Wan is sent to Utapau to finish off Grievous. Once again, Anakin's positive influences are kept away while Anakin is stuck on Coruscant. The Council wants him to spy on Palpatine, he doesn't want to, and he immediately blows the scheme to Palpatine.

That's when Palpatine makes his move.

Anakin pushes away for a moment and goes to Mace, but Mace tells him to stay at the temple.

Anakin can't, he goes there, and he cuts Windu's arm off - the point of no return.

Clone Wars is there to recontextualize Anakin's actions, flesh them out a bit more, and make his fall to the Dark Side more believable. That's the biggest service it does to any character in the franchise, and it makes Star Wars as a whole stronger.

So yeah, the show is good.

I think I covered most of the stuff that happens later on in the show in this one, but I'm still watching so maybe I'll do a part three next week if something stands out. That being said, the Rolex 24 is this weekend and that means the offseason is coming to an end, so perhaps it's about time for this blog to get motorsport-y again. We'll have to see though.

All I can promise is that next week, I'll write about whatever's on my mind. If that's Clone Wars, then it's Clone Wars, if it's race cars, then it's race cars, if it's some other third thing, then it's some other third thing.

So...tune in next week to find out!