#sorry i didn't really have an answer for one of the questions

[multipleoccupancy]

Theo drew in a breath as they spoke of what it had been like after Sloane's betrayal. He missed working with Samantha in the field but he was so relieved she had an office position that kept her safe instead. He thought about Violet and her potential disorders. He had noticed she stayed away from the big window in the past, but he also understood why. "They manifest and you work them out as you go. I didn't really understand my OCD for a long time and then the paranoia made it much harder to reach out for an explanation." His counterpart had done a number on her thought and he had to think for a moment on what to say. "I suspect that a fear of heights is only natural after what you have been through. But you see now how these things come about?"

He nodded about there being enough agents to merit a HR department, though even he didn't know exact numbers. However he should have expected her to fire off with relentless questions. Theo did feel overwhelmed for a moment and he wondered if he should shut the conversation down or risk destabilising how far he had come in the last few days. There was plenty there he wouldn't answer and he regretted opening up the option for her to ask. "They send another agent still, I have recruited a couple of people myself. I sit with them and talk about the work and ask them to join, giving them instructions on what to expect." Whether or not that was the right way he wasn't sure but he felt it was the best he could offer.

He purposefully skipped over how he was assigned missions and coded messages, she had a letter from Delta Green and that was enough. He didn't want her digging through his mail looking for triangles to see if or where he was going next. "I no longer have a team," he said plainly, "My team was Samantha and Sloane and he went and put an end to that. Since then I am either sent to other groups of agents on missions to discipline or lecture them or partnered up with agents when I am needed. They're strangers." Most of them anyway. Despite his trust issues he still had favourites. He dodged over the questions on monsters and she gave him the perfect excuse to do so with her final question. She should not have known about the Apocalypse Club and he raised a very fatherly eyebrow at her.

"It's a cultist ring, I am the lead agent in bringing it down one by one. Middle-Sized Tony is one of their leaders." He did not specify it was in the city, nor that it was a physical place, not wanting Violet to go looking. "They're very dangerous people. A lot more put together and in control than Sloane. They mainly work in crime and amass ridiculous funds through it." Of course he had his own instructions on handling them from the Horned One but he had to bring cultists in enough that he was still able to stay the lead, in a way he felt it balanced out. "I wouldn't normally leave my files out like that, I am sorry I did and you saw. It won't happen again." There was still elements of fear in his tone despite himself, as if he was preparing to be punished in the back of his mind and trying to mitigate against it.

However, he saw her embarrassment about the letter incident and shook his head. "I should have been more respectful in how I handled that too. I never meant to upset you but I panicked," Theo explained honestly and watched her carefully in case he upset her further. "I'm sorry I shredded your letter," this apology much more genuine than the last. "I should have explained this to you sooner. But it's easier now that you know why I didn't want you to read it. I was so scared."

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"It must have been difficult," she mused a little bit sadly, "when Samantha stopped working as an agent. If she was the only one you trusted..." Her dad must have felt really alone, especially after Sloane's betrayal. "I understand that you're distrustful, after what Sloane did." But then again, it seemed that was a disorder, gained from his time as an agent. "How will I know if... if I have a disorder? I've seen so many things already. And... I still can't get anywhere close to the window." Violet didn't usually talk about that. She supposed it was obvious, and yet she pretended it wasn't an issue.

Violet was very curious about Samantha's job, now. Luckily for her, Samantha was around. Maybe she could ask her about it? "There are a lot of agents, then?" Enough for Delta Green to need an HR representative.

Her dad had just allowed her to ask him whatever she wanted to know, and yet Violet fell silent for a few seconds. The questions were jostling each other in her mind, leaving her speechless. She felt like it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and didn't want to waste it on stupid questions! "How do they recruit agents now, then? And how do they tell you your missions? Do they send coded messages? Do you know the other agents on your team?" Surely her dad wouldn't be surprised to hear her firing questions at an impressive rate. Fastest draw in New York! "What's the scariest monster you've ever seen? How many monsters have you killed?" And finally, a question she asked with a blush on her cheeks: "What's the Apocalypse Club? I just- your file was opened on the table, and I saw the name."

After that, she had to take a moment to catch her breath.

"I understand now, why you were worried. Why you shred the letter. You were just protecting me. They shouldn't have sent that letter in the first place, not after what they did to you." Violet looked down, embarrassed by the huge tantrum she had thrown about that letter.

[peppermintquartz]

Buck volunteers for the Thanksgiving shift. When Maddie asks, he apologizes, saying, "I don't really feel festive right now. But keep some leftovers for me?"

On the day, firehouses around the country all have similar calls to deal with: kitchen grease fires from frying turkeys, sprains in backyard games of football, people injuring one another because "did you hear what she said about our Emma/Francis/Kailey?". Buck is kept too busy to think, and it's nice having the time to catch up with Ravi, who's thinking of going to school to study law.

Their brothers and sisters in uniform also drop off dishes at the station, so between calls, they get pretty good food. Captain Graham gives them an hour offline after four consecutive calls. Buck collapses into a chair and serves himself pasta salad and a delicious honey baked ham, while his dinner rolls warm up in the oven.

He's scrolling through his phone, diligently avoiding the messaging apps, when a message preview pops up.

Tommy.

Buck almost drops his fork. He scrambles away from the dinner table, even though no one on C shift will try to take his phone from him, and finds a spot in the stairwell to read it.

Tommy: hope you have a good & safe Thanksgiving

As he's reading, another bubble appears and Buck's heart skips several beats, but this time it doesn't disappear. A second message arrives, followed by a third.

Tommy: don't know why I texted that

Tommy: guess I just wanted to say something to you

Tommy: you don't have to reply

Tommy: anyway. Happy holidays

Buck feels a slight loosening of the vice around his heart that has been there since that night. With a smile on his face, he types, deletes, types again.

Buck: happy Thanksgiving to you too

Buck: how many kitchen grease fires you got this year? We had 3

Tommy: you're working today?

Tommy: 4, but one of it was in the backyard

They're having a conversation. They're having an actual casual conversation, as easy as they used to on calmer shifts. Buck wants to cry. But he has to answer Tommy's question or have this conversation end too soon. Thinking about his options, he decides that he has nothing to lose anyway.

Buck: I didn't wanna sit around and smile and pretend I'm thankful for everything

Buck: it's better to keep busy

Tommy: I know that feeling

Tommy: I'm sorry

Buck: I'm sorry too

Buck: I wish we could've celebrated together

Buck: I would've said that I'm thankful for you

Tommy: I would have said that too

Tommy: I'm still thankful for you jsyk. I'll always be grateful to have got to know you

Does Tommy think he can't stay in Buck's life just because they broke up?

Buck: I don't think you know me well enough

Tommy: sorry

Buck wishes he'd run after Tommy that night, or done something since to show that he wants Tommy. Well, here's your chance, his brain reminds him. Do something.

He takes a deep breath. Then he types.

Buck: I want to meet. If I come over after Thanksgiving shift, will you please be home?

Tommy: is that a good idea

Buck: idk. But I can't stop thinking about you, and I miss you, and I wanna know what I did wrong. I wanna meet.

Tommy: I miss you too. You didn't do anything wrong, I just didn't want to... Idk. I didn't want to get my hopes up too much.

Buck: we need to talk in person. Texting is not good enough.

It isn't. He needs to see Tommy again. Tommy with his storm blue eyes and tender smile and broad shoulders and soft clothes. Tommy whose crinkly smile drives Buck a little (a lot) insane. Tommy whose lips he now knows the shape of by touch alone, whose body he has mapped out in detail, who knows how it feels to be inside Buck in the most intimate of ways.

He waits for a response. Hopes there will be one. It comes several minutes after, like Tommy had to really think about it.

Tommy: maybe not immediately after Thanksgiving shift

Tommy: are you off on Monday

The relief that crashes into Buck feels almost as overwhelming as the tsunami he was caught in years ago.

Buck: yes

Buck: your place this time

Buck: I'll bring cake

Tommy: you don't have to bribe me to open the door

Buck: no I just baked too much stuff is all. I'll explain when we meet

Buck: I'm really thankful you texted

Tommy: I'm thankful you replied

Tommy: have a good rest of the shift, Evan

It's Evan again. Buck can't hide his smile at all. Tucking his phone into his pocket, he goes back to dinner. Monday can't be here fast enough.

[sungbeam]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥

nonidol!yoon jeonghan x gn!reader

2.3k words, fluff, comfort, reader is sick, technically a college au, light swearing, mentions of food, mentions of cold medication, tbh i know i advocate for platonic fics but i am also just a girl. so he does pine a little lol, slice-of-life-ish, barely proofread

a/n: there is like no plot, i just am feeling ooey-gooey about svt rn heh :') been watching so much gose recently and it's healing my soul

Yoon Jeonghan was many things, but oblivious was not one of them. “Oh my god, you're sick,” were his first words to you when you opened your apartment door. His voice was droning, perfectly unimpressed, but it masked the concern attempting to skirt its way to the surface. 

“It's not that” —your sorry attempt at denial crumbled like a house of cards as you turned away to cough into your elbow. The taste of metal lingered in the back of your throat and you winced, reaching into your bag to grab your water bottle. After swallowing down a generous helping, you said to him without looking him in the eye, “I'm fine.”

Jeonghan blinked. “That's really cute,” he replied with a thin smile. “Back inside.”

“But Jeonghan—”

“No.” He grabbed you firmly by your shoulders and steered you back into your apartment, his body waddling in behind you because of your balking in the doorway. He kicked the front door shut, shucking his shoes off with uncanny accuracy into an empty space on the shoe rack. “Shoes off, Yn-ah. Don't start an argument you won't win.”

You grumbled under your breath, but did as you were told. All the while, Jeonghan smoothed a hand over his jaw, performing mental gymnastics. How did you get sick? How much time did he have before he needed to get to campus? Could he reasonably make you soup before he needed to leave for his exam?

The first question was easy to answer. He internally smacked himself—last night: your runny nose, the vitamin C powder you added to your water, your shivers on the walk home from the library. Oh, fuck. He should have driven. Why did he make you both walk in that cold?

Guilt coursed through him as he directed you back into your bedroom. 

It was a quarter to 8, meaning he didn't have time to make you ramen and make it to his exam before the doors closed. 

“I have so much shit to do today” —another horrid cough rattled through you, and Jeonghan frowned to himself as he snatched the extra blanket out of your closet— “I can't… Hannie, there's so much I need to—”

“I know, Yn-ah,” he said softly, eyes sad and tender as he bundled you up in three layers until you were likely unable to unwrap yourself. He perched by your side, his palm grazing over your forehead to take your temperature. Hot. Not good. “But if you don't take care of yourself now, it'll only get worse.”

He glanced at his phone. Five to 8—he still had fifteen minutes. It was a blessing that you lived closer to campus than he did. 

“I hate when you're right,” you muttered. The lower half of your face was tucked beneath the edges of your blankets, so all he saw were your tired, glaring eyes. 

He smirked to himself, a fuzziness warming his chest. So petulant. “You always do,” he mused. “What did you have to do today? I'll try and help out as best I can.”

Your glare softened at the corners and your eyes flitted away from him. “It's okay. I'll deal with it all when I wake up. I—wait.” Your eyes shot wide open. “You have that exam today! You have to leave—what time is it?”

“Yah, I'll make it,” he laughed. “Worry about yourself.”

“You literally said last night that you were worried about failing—”

“And now I'm worried about you,” he countered. Satisfaction brought an impish twinkle to his eyes as you scowled at him again. “But fine, I'll leave if you insist.”

He rose from the edge of the bed, picking his backpack up to sling over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

With his back toward you, he could allow himself to grin. “What was that?” he called back innocently. 

“Don't fail.”

He huffed out another laugh as he reached the threshold of your bedroom doorway. Jeonghan wondered briefly if he should coax that thank you out of your mouth again, but he really did need to leave. It was awful. Everything in him was ready to throw away this exam to stay here with you. “Go to sleep, honey. I'll see you when you wake up.”

Three hours later, Jeonghan shouldered his way into your apartment, his backpack on his shoulders, his mind far away from that disgusting exam he finished, and his hands occupied with a grocery bag of items he picked up on his way here. When he left earlier, he had swiped your keys on the way out so he could let himself back in without waking you up. He dumped those very keys onto the table by the door, the gazillion key chains attached to the one carabiner clattering inelegantly loud. 

He glanced over at your closed door, hoping he didn't just wake you up. 

With a little less noise, he abandoned his backpack by the couch and made his way over to the kitchen. While he had made it in time to his exam, it had taken more willpower to center his attention on the exam itself rather than letting his mind wander to all the things he wanted to do after he was done. The to-do list spanned about five items: buy cold medicine and orange juice, decide on what food to make you, buy the ingredients for that food, persuade your TA to let him pick up your graded essay (that one, he saw on a sticky note by your desk), and come back to take care of you. 

(If the TA grading his exam took note of the small list he'd jotted down in the top corner of page five, no they didn't.)

There had been several ideas of what he could make you once he was free. He had stared at the row of vegetables in the produce department for a good ten minutes before he decided on something less usual. He could make instant ramen, but that didn't seem like the healthiest option for him to feed you. There was also seaweed soup—did he have the time to go to another store to find what he needed? No. 

His next great idea was something simple, but delicious: chicken noodle soup. 

Jeonghan rummaged around your cabinets, locating the things he needed—cutting board, knife—he opened a door and sighed to himself. So you did have pasta already. Great. 

He examined the box of dried elbow macaroni and compared it to the bowtie pasta he'd picked out. “Mine’s better,” he muttered, shelving your macaroni and bumping the cabinet closed. 

In the largest pot he could find, he brewed up a hearty chicken soup, using the bones from the rotisserie chicken he bought to add more richness to the broth's flavoring. Every carrot, onion, and celery stalk he sliced, and every piece of chicken he shredded, was done deftly and with great care. This was for you, after all, and if this soup could help you get better, then he would make it the best damn thing you'd ever tasted. 

There were plenty of things Jeonghan didn't want to do or weaseled his way out of, but he could be running on one hour of sleep, and he would still haul his ass up to make kimchi from scratch if you asked him to. 

He was stationed behind the stove, tasting the soup for adjustments, when he heard your bedroom door open. 

Jeonghan peered over his shoulder and smiled at the bundle of blankets waddling your way out into the main room, your hair sticking up in odd places, and your eyes still at half mast. “Good morning, sleepy head. How're you feeling?”

“Meh,” you said hoarsely, clearing your throat. You squinted at the sunlight streaming in through the open curtains. “What're you making? It smells nice.”

“Hm? Oh, I made you some soup. Go take the medicine on the counter and sit down; I'll bring you a bowl.”

As he reached over to grab another pinch of salt, he heard you tearing open the box of cold medicine behind him. 

A moment passed by of quiet, but his heart leapt straight into his throat as he felt a soft weight rest against his back. “Thank you, Hannie,” you murmured, forehead pressed between his shoulders. 

There were about a dozen things running through his mind at the moment—things he could say, things he could do. He was an ounce of willpower away from melting on the spot, but the heat rising from the soup pot kept him upright. “Aish… thank me by getting better, okay?”

You hummed in acknowledgment and lifted yourself off his back. When you hobbled away to sit down at the table, Jeonghan couldn't brush away the feeling that the spot your head had rested was now cold. 

“How was the” —cough— “the exam?” 

Jeonghan glanced over at you as he carefully ladled soup into two bowls. He hummed, “Could've been better, but can't really do anything about it now.”

“I'm sure you did good,” you replied, holding out your hands like a kid waiting for their turn to get candy from a jar as Jeonghan made his way over to you with the soup. “You always say you did bad when you actually scored in the top ten percent.”

“Careful, honey, it's hot.” Jeonghan continued to hold the bowl even as you cupped it in your hands, until it safely reached the table. Only then did he seat himself down adjacent to you. “Yeah, well, you always said I should be more humble,” he joked.

You picked up your spoon and gestured at him with it. “Humility and lying are different things,” you said pointedly. “Anyways, thank you. This looks really yummy.”

“I don't lie,” he drawled with a twinkle in his eye. He leaned his cheek against his fist and watched as you took a spoonful and gently blew on the hot liquid. The delight that lit up your face was enough to make him happy for a century. He inclined his chin. “Good?”

“Very good. Sometimes I forget that you're good at cooking, too.”

“Not like Mingyu though,” he chuckled and brought a spoonful up to his lips. 

You shot him a look. “You don't always have to compare yourself, Hannie-ah. I'm not talking about Mingyu right now.”

Maybe I just want to make sure, he thought, then brushed it under that large, metaphorical rug in his mind. Jeonghan gave a half-hearted shrug. 

Your mouth flattened into a displeased line. His grin widened. 

When the both of you finished as many helpings as you had the appetite for, Jeonghan graciously offered to wash the dishes. He practically anchored you to the couch by wrapping you in yet another blanket—it was a double-edged sword; you were quite cute like that and he had half the mind to ditch the dishes. Once done with his task, he plucked out a dose of cold medication to take for himself, as well. 

You eyed him from the couch as he swallowed the pills with a glass of orange juice. “Did I get you sick already?” you asked, your voice having become more nasally from your stuffy nose. 

“Not yet,” he said, “it's just preventative measures since I'm gonna be hanging around you.”

“You're not leaving?” 

Your words were one thing, but the way you peered over the back of the couch at him and the upward intonation in your voice told him something else. He smiled to himself as he walked over to the couch with his juice. “No, I was going to help you finish your work for the day, but if you want me to leave, I—”

“Only if you're not afraid of getting sick,” you said quickly. 

He sighed with an air of melodrama. “I suppose I can stay after all.” He brought out his laptop and the essay he finagled from your TA, vaguely mentioning something about his careful white lies in order to accomplish his mission. It was truly something only Jeonghan could pull off and get away with. 

The first item on your to-do list was to send out a couple emails. 

Jeonghan felt the weight of your head fall onto his shoulder, and he glanced down at you in amusement. “You're not falling asleep on me, are you?” he teased, his fingers paused from the email he was typing out while you dictated the wording. 

You shifted your head. “No, I'm still awake. Do you think this sounds too bubbly?”

“It’s not too bubbly,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “But the thing is you're not this agreeable in real life—aish! Haha, hey! Don't hit me!”

He could imagine your cute, little scowl. “I am incredibly agreeable.”

“Yes, yes.” Jeonghan lightly pat your head. “You're very lovely, Yn-ah.”

You chose to ignore the impish tone in his voice. It was what he wanted you to do anyway—believe that he thought you were lovely.  

It was difficult to parse out how much time passed, but at some point, the TV was turned on to a random channel playing some 90s sitcom, and his laptop was ditched on the coffee table. Jeonghan's legs ended up sprawled across the length of the couch while your layers of blankets covered both of you. Your head rested comfortably on his chest as he continued to watch TV in silent contentment.

Jeonghan was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't oblivious to the fact that you took the wrong cold medicine. The box he bought had both daytime and nighttime meds, the latter of which contained melatonin to aid with uninterrupted sleep. He didn't say anything earlier when he realized, but it wasn't like he could say anything now. 

He glanced down at your face, his hand cupping the back of your head with too much tenderness for friendship. You were asleep; there was nothing he could do, no jokes to make or fun to poke. 

Him, his thoughts, and you. 

But this was fine. He was happy and warm like the perfect bowl of soup filling an empty stomach, and he had no intention of leaving until he knew that you were better. As his eyes slowly drooped closed, he sank further into the blankets and your hold, soul nourished.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if you enjoyed <3

svt m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @floatingpluto @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @eunseok-s @bless-311 @leaz-kpop-life @fluorescentloves @thesunsfullmoon @haechansbbg @kpopjackie @jundundun @http-gyu @mars101 @moonyswolf @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @thecarnivaloflies @p-d1ddy @thatonedemigodfromseoul @foivetimesthecharm

[felassan]

David Gaider on Shale, under a cut for length:

"Oops! I realized I'd moved on from DAO but missed one of the companions I'd written. Which checks out, honestly, because I almost didn't write Shale and, even after I'd written her, she almost didn't happen anyhow. Then she did. Prepare yourself for... PIGEON QUEST. 🦤 So... I'm wracking my brain, but I don't recall how Shale began. I have this vague memory of us wanting a "weird" party member who didn't conform to the normal classes (this was back when Dog didn't need to be in the party), and I think my mind drifted to an old indie comic character named Concrete."

"Now, your reaction to that is probably "who?" That's OK. When I explain that HK-47 in KotOR was inspired by an old Canadian TV show called the Littlest Hobo I get the same perplexed response. 😅 In short: Concrete was just a regular dude. Who happened to also be a walking hulk of rock. Cue hi-jinx. The problem here is I don't remember whether the Concrete thing was part of the original inspiration or something I thought of at the point when I started writing the character. Because I didn't, at first. That was later. Shale was initially taken on by Jay Turner, then one of our junior writers. Jay had an idea to make Shale more of a robot, an emotionless automoton killer... think HK-47, but without the layer of sarcasm. I was leery, and told Jay he'd have to be very careful. "Emotionless" can very quickly turn into "boring", after all, unless you're VERY careful. But Jay was determined. Sigh. This was a fail on my part, as his lead. There's been a couple of times in my career when I've let a junior convince me with their enthusiasm to take on something my experience said they shouldn't. And then watch their confidence crumble despite every effort I made to reassure them it was OK. This was one of those times. Jay, no idea if you'll read this but: I'm sorry. Even an experienced writer would have found that a daunting challenge. Tonia, my other Big Fail on a similar situation in DAI: I'm sorry. Both times, I should have known. You did your best, but I set you up to fail. 😔"

"Jay did his best, and this version of Shale was certainly interesting... but, when he was done, it was one of those peer reviews where every writer had that look of "I'm REALLY sorry to say this..." It felt flat. Jay tried numerous revisions, but the issue wasn't his ability - it was the concept. I only allowed my writers a certain number of tries before I take it away. This hearkens back to an earlier time at Bio when writers would hack away at something that wasn't working 6, 7, 8 times or more until finally their soul was dust. Mike Laidlaw can attest. Revision isn't always the answer. So I moved (a much relieved, I think) Jay onto something else, and the question arose: what do we do with Shale? Do we cut it? It was already very late. Then Shale dropped in my lap. I don't remember if it was me refusing to let it go or maybe Brent (Knowles, Creative Director) giving it to me. I suspect it was the latter, because I recall being a bit bitter about the whole thing. WHAT am I going to do with this character? At the time, they'd moved me out of the writers pit to instead be in a big office with the other leads. I had this corner desk by a window (yay) with an awful view (ugh) What was so awful about it? It looked out onto the neighbouring roof, where there was only an HVAC unit to see. In the winter, pigeons would gather around it. They pooped all over everything - there was this alcove around the access door, right? The pigeons roosted there and it was POOP FAUCET city."

"Not only that, the pigeons used the HVAC like some kind of sex den. Angry, ugly pigeon sex. The only respite was when a hawk would appear and the pigeons scattered. Then I'd get maybe a day when there was a single pigeon corpse, like an exploded ball of down, to act as a scarecrow. Good days, those. What does any of this have to do with Shale? Well, there's me, staring out the window trying desperately to think what I'm going to do. But I CAN'T stare out the window because, gross. But what else am I going to stare at while I think? It was making me furious. I hated those pigeons SO SO MUCH. And then it hit me: Shale is basically an animated statue, right? Something that pigeons are rather notorious for also gathering on? And so I wrote. I wrote like the angry, angry wind. I had zero time to do this so it was basically me vomiting all my annoyance at everything into a single character. Not that it helped much. There was a battle going on over Shale - first, as I recall, it was the art team. They were going to make every doorway in the game EXTRA HUGE because they were worried that Shale was too large and might clip. So, yes, let's alter the whole world to fix that. Good idea. 🙃 Eventually, they compromised by making Shale smaller. Sten-sized. Or Brent went Akira mode, but I don't really know. This was a battle happening above my level. Yet Shale got cut anyhow. There wasn't time to do her abilities and we were short on cinematics time. There was never enough time on DAO."

""Oh well," I thought. "That's that." I did what I could, but cut content is almost never resurrected. The idea was floated of making Shale into a DLC but I scoffed. Yeah, right! But... it happened. That's why the "almost" is there. Enough of the team liked Shale they made it happen this one time. This meant I could finish up the writing once we'd more or less wrapped DAO, and the rest of the team (cinematics, in particular, who were pressed the hardest for time) could move onto the Shale DLC once they were ready. It was supposed to come out well after release, but you know. Shenanigans. This particular shenanigan was EA deciding to sit on the finished DAO a few months in order to delay the release. Why? Again, not my level. To get closer to Christmas, maybe, or maybe for sim ship. It did mean Shale ended up being ready for release day. Unexpected confluence of events, honestly. Cue some fans getting upset that "cut content" was sold to them separately, which... fair, I guess? The alternative would have been that Shale was simply cut, period, and it just worked out this way but... yes, fair. This was back when DLC was the main beef of hardcore gamers. Oh, the good old days. Overall? I have a soft spot for Shale. She has no soft spot for anyone, being... you know... made of rock. It's why I put her in Asunder, and why she was also going to be in the - apparently now notorious for its Fenris murder - cancelled fourth DA novel. Also, if you're a pigeon fan: not sorry. 😇"

[source thread]

[respectthepetty]

I have a Question for you that I think you might enjoy…….

In BL we usual have our “paired couples” that work together as a couple in a BL. However with Only friends and how everyone is mixing…. Out of ALL the BL actors we know.

Who would you like to see as a pair in something that are not a ‘contract’ pair?

I would be really interested to hear!!

This ask was from last year (when I was ignoring every single ask that was Only Friends related), but I'm clearing out my inbox and finally read this ask which actually didn't have anything to do with Only Friends, so sorry Anon who wrote this. But I do have an answer because there is only one answer:

Mark x Fourth

This isn't a want.

This is a need!

Look at them!

LOOK AT THEM!

I shipped their characters in Moonlight Chicken.

AND My School President!

They are two great actors (and in my top ten of GMMTV actors), so I think they would make a phenomenal pair!

GMMTV, break up the ships and give me MARK x FOURTH!

[wholoveseggs]

Hey girl, while I am jet-lagged from a trip, another Elijah idea came to me. Memory-free Elijah (Season 5) meets strong and confident human readers, and they start a friendship. She helps him navigate through his new life, and he falls for her. He also kinda forgot that he is a really skilled lover, so it's kinda cute and fluff because he is nervous and sweet, but I imagine that is something he would quickly remember after a few rounds :)

Btw: love, love, love Kinktober!!!

Belonging

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Elijah Mikaelson x Reader} You needed a roommate, and he needed a place to belong...but as secrets unravel and his dark past comes to light, your new housemate might just change your life forever.

♡♡ ahhh @originals23 thank you for another spectacular request!! ♡♡

8.8k words {whoops} - Warnings: sssmmuuttt, roommates-to-lovers, lots of sexual tension, Elijah being charming and mysterious, a dash of angst, mild language, protective Elijah, soft and nervous Elijah, domestic fluff, dangerous encounters (brief physical assault), Paris, vampire reveals && all the feelsss

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight @blacknightrises @poppet05 @sweetieseven

@xoxo-shy @nova-j @decaffeinatedparadisepost @fandom-princess-forevermore @theotherworld97

@origshipfan @cocoabliss @elishi03

Money was tight, as it seemed to be for everyone these days. The economy wasn't kind, and you had bills to pay. You needed a roommate, which was how you found yourself on craigslist. You were hoping for a good, sane human being, but at the end of the day, you would take what you could get.

The first person to show up for the interview was a woman and her very obnoxious boyfriend. You could instantly tell that this would not work, even if you were desperate. She wanted to smoke in the house and have friends over to play loud music and drink all night. You would rather die.

Next came a middle-aged man who immediately gave you the creeps. You had no problem living with men in general, but this guy made you uncomfortable. He stared at you too much and had a weird look in his eyes. You kicked him out quickly, feeling uneasy.

You were about to give up for the day, when a man dressed in slightly worn clothes knocked on the door. You couldn't quite get a read on him, he seemed to be full of contradictions. On the one hand, he didn't look to have a lot of money, perhaps he was even homeless. But his skin was clean, his hair neatly trimmed, and he had an air of confidence that was rare to see.

You invited him in, and he sat at the kitchen table as you asked the usual questions. None of them he could really answer in a straightforward manner.

"Where are you from?"

"I'm not really sure."

"How old are you?"

"I don't know that either."

"Where do you work?”

"I...I'm looking."

You studied him for a minute, and he gave you a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry. I know this is a bit unusual, and I wouldn't have bothered coming here if I had anywhere else to go. The truth is, I have no memories of who I am, where I'm from, or even my age."

"That's...that's a lot to take in," you replied, not sure what else to say.

He nodded solemnly, his gaze steady but filled with vulnerability. “It is. I woke up a month ago on a bus with no memory of how I got there. All I had was this,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a single, ornate cufflink with an engraved ‘E.’ “I think my name starts with an ‘E.’ Beyond that, I don’t have much to go on.

You leaned back in your chair, trying to process the situation. He could have been lying… anyone could come up with a story like that. But something about his demeanor struck you as sincere. He didn’t have the desperation of someone looking for a quick handout. He carried himself with dignity, even as he admitted he had nothing.

"Okay," you said slowly. "So, let’s say I believe you. You’ve got no memories, no job, no ID. How do you plan to contribute if I let you stay here?”

He straightened in his chair, his expression resolute. “I may not remember who I was, but I’m willing to work. I’m a fast learner, and I can help with anything you need around the house. Cleaning, repairs, anything physical...I’ll earn my keep.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure sound confident for someone who doesn’t even know their own name.”

A small, shy smile tugged at his lips. “I suppose some things are instinctual.”

His charm wasn’t lost on you, but you weren’t about to make a decision based on a smile. “And what if you’re dangerous? You could be an escaped convict for all I know.”

His smile faded, and his expression turned serious. “I understand your concern. I don’t believe I’m a danger to anyone, but I can’t offer you proof of that. All I can promise is that I’ll respect your home and your rules.”

You studied him for a long moment, weighing the risks. Something about him made you want to trust him, even though logic told you not to. Maybe it was the way he spoke, all articulate and thoughtful, as though he’d once been someone important. Or maybe it was the quiet sadness in his eyes, the kind that suggested he’d lost something far greater than his memory.

"Alright," you said finally. "You can stay. But there are rules. No bringing strangers into the house, no smoking, no loud music. And if you try anything shady, I’m calling the cops.”

Relief washed over his face, and he nodded earnestly. “Thank you. I promise you won’t regret this.”

You showed him to the spare bedroom, which was small but comfortable, and gave him a set of clean sheets and a towel. He looked around the room as though he’d never seen anything like it, running his fingers over the furniture with quiet curiosity.

As he settled in, you couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he’d led before he lost his memory. He was polite and well-spoken, yet entirely out of place in the world. And though he seemed vulnerable now, there was something about him… something strong and enduring, like a flicker of a flame waiting to reignite.

For now, you decided to take it one day at a time. After all, what’s life without a little risk?

The following months passed by quickly. You got closer and closer to each other, spending a lot of time together.

He had gotten used to the city life, and you had gotten used to having him around. It had been nice, having someone to come home to, and to talk to.

He was a lovely person, who enjoyed listening to classical music as he cooked, and who was always willing to lend a hand. He was smart, funny, and kind, and you were starting to fall for him.

You weren't sure if he felt the same way about you, but the way he looked at you sometimes, and the way he smiled at you, gave you hope.

You were sitting in the living room, reading a book, while he cooked dinner. The smell of his cooking was making your stomach growl, and you were looking forward to eating whatever he had prepared.

"I found out something interesting today," he said, coming into the room with a bowl of salad.

"What's that?" You asked, putting your book down.

"My name," he said, a slight smirk on his face. "My full name, I mean."

"You did?!" You exclaimed, excitedly.

"Yep," he confirmed, looking pleased with himself. "It's Elijah."

"Elijah," you repeated, testing out the name. "I like it. It suits you."

He smiled, and the sight of his dimples made your heart skip a beat. He was so striking, and you wondered if there was someone out there missing him. Someone who loved him.

"It does," he agreed, his smile fading a little.

"So, how did you find out? Did it just come to you, or did you remember?" You asked.

"Actually... I uh.. ran into someone who claimed to know me. He wasn't very friendly," he explained.

"Oh no, are you okay?" You asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," he assured you. "I wasn't hurt. Just... I don't know, it was odd."

"Odd how?"

"He was angry, and he told me I wanted this, and that I should leave the city for the sake of a woman he wouldn't name," he recalled.

"That's awful," you said, feeling sorry for him.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Do you have any idea who the woman is?" You asked.

"... I think she might be my family?" He said, looking unsure. "It's hard to explain, but when he mentioned her, it felt like something clicked, and I knew that he was telling the truth."

"Wow, that's big," you breathed.

"I know," he nodded, plating up the food. "It's strange, I don't remember anything about my life, but the mention of her... It felt right."

"Maybe it'll trigger your memories," you suggested, helping him bring the food over to the table.

"Maybe," he agreed.

The two of you sat down to eat, and the conversation shifted to more pleasant topics.

He talked about his favorite books, and his favorite places in the city, and you listened, enjoying his company.

After dinner, you cleared the table, and put the dishes in the dishwasher. And he prepared for his nightly walk, one he didn't want you joining him on.

"Can I join you tonight?" You asked, as he grabbed his jacket.

"Why?" He asked, sounding surprised.

"Because I want to spend more time with you," you explained, hoping he wouldn't think it was too weird.

"Oh," he said, a smile creeping across his face. "Truly, I would love for you to join... But tonight, I want to clear my head. I need some time alone."

"Okay," you agreed, a little disappointed.

"Tomorrow night, perhaps," he said, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You blushed, and watched him leave. He always had an excuse as to why he had to go out on his own, and it was starting to bother you. You couldn't help but worry that he was hiding something from you, or that maybe he didn't feel the same way about you, and this was his subtle way of letting you down.

Perhaps it was the wine, or perhaps it was your growing feelings for him, but you decided to follow him, just this once.

You grabbed a coat and put on a pair of boots, and slipped out the front door. It was a cold, windy night, and you cursed yourself for not bringing a scarf and gloves.

You could see Elijah's silhouette ahead, and you followed him, keeping your distance. He walked with such grace and confidence, the sort of walk that screamed 'I'm rich and powerful,' although his personality hardly lined up with that attitude.

You had a feeling that whoever he was, before he lost his memories, had a lot of money. It was in the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, and the way he could make a cheap t-shirt look elegant.

He wandered into a sketchy part of town, and you wondered why he would want to come here. There were several run-down buildings, and a lot of graffiti. The only people you saw were homeless and drug addicts, and you were starting to get scared.

Finally, he stopped outside an abandoned warehouse. You watched from afar as he walked inside, and a few minutes later, came back out, wiping his mouth. You frowned, wondering what he had been doing in there.

Then, without warning, he turned around and started walking back towards the house.

"Fuck," you muttered, ducking into an alleyway.

You waited until he had passed, and then followed him, staying out of sight. He went back in a different direction, and after a few blocks, you realised he was headed for a park.

You followed him, trying to stay quiet, but your footsteps echoed loudly in the night. You felt foolish, and hoped that he hadn't heard you.

He led you deeper into the park, to an area that was mostly secluded. There was a large tree, with a bench underneath it. He sat down on the bench, and stared up at the sky, which was covered in stars.

You watched him for a moment, wondering if this was his way of relaxing, and what was going through his mind.

Suddenly, his eyes locked onto yours. You gasped and took a step back, your heart racing.

"Are you going to join me, or just keep spying on me?" He asked, his voice amused.

"I wasn't spying," you lied, sitting down next to him.

"Of course not," he replied, his tone clearly mocking you.

"Why are you here?" You asked.

"I like the fresh air, and the view is beautiful," he answered.

"What were you doing in that warehouse?"

"Just clearing my head," he said, his expression becoming serious. "You shouldn't be out here, it's dangerous."

"You are out here," you countered.

He laughed, his eyes crinkling up in the corners.

"That's true," he agreed, looking out into the darkness, his eyes scanning the shadows. His shoulders were tense, and you could tell that he was on alert, even though you were both sitting safely under the tree. "Let's walk back, shall we?"

He stood up and held out his hand. You took it and he helped you to your feet.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, feeling guilty. "I shouldn't have followed you, but I was worried about you."

"It's alright," he said, keeping a grip on your hand as you walked down the path to the park exit.

You enjoyed the feeling of his hand in yours, the warmth of his skin. You glanced at his profile, admiring his handsome features. You noticed the frown on his face, his dark eyes once again scanning the shadows.

He moved a little faster, pulling you along. He seemed anxious to get out of the park, and back to the safety of your condo.

"What's wrong?" You asked, sensing his unease.

"It's nothing," he replied, his tone serious. "But I think it's best we get home, don't you?"

Then the sound of gravel crunching beneath shoes caught your attention. You turned to see a group of men walking towards you, wearing dark clothing, their faces hidden.

Elijah stopped and stepped in front of you, shielding you from the men. They approached slowly, spreading out to surround you. You were frightened, and you held onto his arm, hoping he knew what to do.

One of the men reached into his pocket and pulled out a gun. Casually holding it by his side, as if it was a normal object, instead of a deadly weapon.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Elijah said, his tone calm and confident. "How may I be of service?"

The leader of the group chuckled, and shook his head.

"Hand over your money, and no one gets hurt," the man demanded, gesturing the gun at Elijah.

"Of course," Elijah said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. He handed it to the man, and the man flipped through it, counting the cash.

"A little light, don't you think?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm afraid I don't carry much cash on me," Elijah said, sounding apologetic.

The man's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his gaze flicking between you and Elijah.

"Perhaps you should let the lady go, and we can discuss this like civilized men," Elijah suggested, his tone still polite, but his eyes had hardened.

"I don't think so," the man replied, his grip on the gun tightening.

"I uh... don't have anything," you stammered, too terrified to think straight. "I...I left my wallet at home,"

"Liar," the man spat, pointing the gun at you.

Elijah stepped in front of you, putting himself between you and the gun.

"Now, now, there's no need for that," Elijah said, holding up his hands. "We're all reasonable people, let's not resort to violence."

"Then, perhaps, we should take her fancy designer clothes instead. Maybe that'll make up for the loss," the man said, his tone threatening, pressing the barrel of the gun against Elijah's chest.

Elijah tensed, and a low growl escaped his lips. You looked at him in surprise, he didn't seem like the type of guy who would react to threats this way.

The leader's eyes widened, and a small grin appeared on his face.

"Ooh, we have a tough guy here," he said, sounding amused. "Trying to impress your date? She’ a little young for you ain't she?"

His goons laughed, and you felt your cheeks flush.

"She is none of your concern," Elijah replied, his tone sharp.

"Actually, she is. You see, I'm in charge here," the man said, he looked at you and smiled, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth. "Strip. Now. Or I will shoot your sugar daddy in the fucking face,"

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"No, no please, we'll give you anything you want, just don't hurt us," you begged, tears welling up in your eyes.

"Clothes. NOW!" The man yelled, pointing the gun at your face.

You hesitated, and he grabbed your hair, yanking you away from Elijah.

"Take off the fucking clothes, or I will kill you both," the man snarled, his breath hot on your face, the barrel of the gun pressed against your temple.

"Alright, alright, don't hurt her," Elijah said, taking off his coat.

"Hurry up," the man snapped, releasing your hair.

You nodded and started to undress, tears streaming down your cheeks. You stripped off your coat and scarf, then pulled off your shirt and pants, shivering as the cold night air hit your bare skin.

You looked at Elijah, who was watching you, his expression unreadable. You could see the muscles in his jaw working, his hands balled into fists.

You were scared, but more than that, you were angry. You hated these men, for the way they were treating you and Elijah, and for the fear and shame they were making you feel.

"There, I'm naked," you said, trying to sound brave.

"Not quite," the man replied, stepping forward. He ran his hands over your body, his fingers rough against your skin, the gun still pressed to your temple.

You flinched, and he chuckled.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not going to rape you," he said, his hand cupping your breast. "You're not my type."

He moved his hand down, stroking your stomach, and then lower, his fingers brushing against the fabric of your panties. You shuddered, and he laughed again.

"But, maybe you'd like a little fun," he whispered, his lips close to your ear.

"That's enough, you've gotten what you wanted, now leave us alone," Elijah demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"It seems your sugar daddy doesn't want to share," the man said, his tone mocking. "He keeps pretending like he's in charge,"

"Please, let us go," you pleaded, your voice breaking.

"No, I think I'm going to keep you," the man replied, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you against his chest.

"You won't harm her," Elijah warned, his eyes blazing.

"Or what?" The man sneered, his fingers digging into your skin.

"I'll kill you," Elijah growled, his voice deadly.

You watched in horror as the other men laughed, raising their guns at Elijah. He didn't even blink, his gaze fixed on the man holding you.

"Is that a threat?" The man asked, his grip on you tightening.

"A promise," Elijah replied, his expression was eerily calm, but his eyes were filled with anger and determination.

The man pressed the barrel of the gun against your skull, the cold metal pressing painfully into your skin. You gasped, and he laughed, the sound sending a chill down your spine.

"Walk away, and I'll let her go," the man said, his gaze locked on Elijah.

Elijah looked at you, and his eyes softened.

"Do you trust me?" He asked, his voice soft, barely audible above the sound of your racing heartbeat.

"Yes," you answered, without hesitation.

He smiled, and turned to the man. "Then duck,"

Before the man could respond, Elijah lunged at him, his hand grabbing the wrist holding the gun. The man yelped, and you ducked down, just as Elijah's knee connected with his face. There was a sickening crack, and the man cried out, letting go of the gun.

Elijah caught it before it hit the ground, and other men began firing, hitting Elijah in the chest over and over, but he stood there unfazed, almost bored, like they were annoying pests and nothing more.

One of the men, realizing his bullets were useless, rushed forward and swung a fist, hitting Elijah in the jaw. Elijah didn't budge, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. The man gasped, and tried to pry his hand off, but Elijah's grip was too strong.

You watched in awe as Elijah crushed the man's throat, his expression blank. Then, he threw him aside, the sound of bones snapping echoed in the air.

The other men backed away, their faces pale. Elijah ignored them, taking his leather jacket and putting it over your shoulders, before turning his attention to the leader.

The man was kneeling on the ground, clutching his broken nose. He looked up at Elijah, his eyes wide with fear.

"P-please," the man stammered, holding up his hands. "I'm s-sorry,"

Elijah stared at him, his expression cold. "No you are not,"

He crushed the gun in his hands like it was tissue paper, and grabbed the man by the throat. The man choked, his hands clawing at Elijah's arm.

"I promised you that I would kill you, and I intend to keep my word," Elijah said, his voice devoid of emotion.

You watched in horror as he tightened his grip, and the man's face turned purple. You wanted to look away, but couldn't tear your eyes from the scene.

Elijah's expression was a mixture of rage and hatred, his face was no longer human, he had completely black eyes, with veins snaking across his face, and his teeth were razor sharp, almost fang like.

He snapped the neck with a loud crack, and dropped the man to the ground. The other men backed away further, their guns forgotten, the color drained from their faces.

Elijah looked at them, and smiled, his fangs glinting in the moonlight.

"Run," he commanded, his voice dark and deadly.

The men fled, tripping over their own feet, disappearing into the shadows. Elijah turned to look at you, his eyes soft yet completely inhuman.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, unable to speak. You were terrified, but not of him.

"Close your eyes and count to thirty, I'll be right back," he said, and then turned and followed the men.

You watched him run off faster than any human could, and you closed your eyes tightly, hearing screams and cries as he caught the men. You waited, counting down from thirty, and then you heard his footsteps and opened your eyes, his face once again normal, the only hint that he had been a monster moments ago was the blood staining his shirt.

He didn't say a word, just reached out his hand and helped you to your feet. He picked up your clothes and helped you dress, your hands were shaking so badly that you could barely button up your shirt.

When you were dressed, he wrapped his arms around you, and held you close, his warmth enveloping you.

"S-shouldn't we call the cops?" You asked, still in shock.

"There will be no need," he replied, his voice calm and soothing.

You looked at the bodies of the men, and then quickly looked away. Elijah had torn them apart, their limbs twisted and contorted in impossible ways. Their faces were frozen in expressions of terror, their eyes empty and lifeless.

"You're not human are you?" You asked, your voice barely a whisper.

"I'm more human than them," he replied, his grip on you tightening a little. "Let's get out of here, and I'll explain everything."

"Okay," you said, letting him guide you away from the bodies.

You felt numb, and you let him lead you out of the park, your mind struggling to process what had happened. Who was this man? This creature beyond comprehension?

Who had you let into your home?

The sound of the kettle whistling pulled you from the daze you had been in. You were sitting on the sofa, wrapped in multiple blankets, Elijah's coat draped across your lap.

You watched him move about the kitchen, his movements confident and sure.

"Here," he said, handing you a mug of hot tea.

"Thank you," you said, taking a sip.

He sat down next to you, his body close to yours. He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, and you flinched.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised.

"But you killed them," you whispered, your eyes watering.

"I did," he confirmed, his voice calm and steady.

"How?" You asked, looking up at him.

"I have... certain abilities," he said, choosing his words carefully. "Abilities that make me stronger, faster, and more dangerous than any human."

You put your mug down on the table and turned to him, studying his face. He was watching you intently, his eyes filled with concern.

"Are you... are you an alien?" You asked, a hint of fear in your voice.

He laughed, the sound a pleasant rumble.

"No, I'm not an alien," he assured you.

"What are you then?"

"I'm...well.. I think I'm a vampire," he said, sounding uncertain.

A burst of disbelief mixed with terror erupted within you, and you let out a hysterical laugh.

"Vampire," you repeated, shaking your head. "Like Edward Cullen?"

"I don't know who that is," he said, frowning.

You let out another laugh, your mind reeling. It wasn't possible. Vampires weren't real.

"Y/N," he said, his voice serious. "I know this is a lot to take in, but please believe me. I am a vampire. I can't explain how or why, but it's true."

You let him talk as you grabbed your phone and searched up vampires. Showing it to him, and telling him to look at the search results.

"Sparkle in the sun? Not as far as I am aware," he commented, frowning.

"Holy water? Crucifixes?" You pressed.

"I'm not particularly religious," he said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Garlic?" You questioned.

"I love garlic," he replied, grinning.

"Can you fly?" You asked, wondering how many myths were true.

"I'm not sure," he said, his brows furrowed in concentration. "I've never tried."

He stood up and did a little hop with his arms raised in the air, like some sort of weird bird. You snorted and covered your mouth with your hand, trying not to laugh.

"No flying," he concluded, sitting back down.

"So, how old are you?" You asked.

"No idea," he said, a sad look on his face.

"Oh my god, what if you are like one hundred years old?" You asked, your mind racing with possibilities.

"Perhaps," he mused.

You paused at the next item on the list of vampire traits, and hesitated before asking.

"And the other thing... blood," you read, your stomach turning at the thought.

"Yes," he admitted, a look of shame crossing his face.

"So, when you went into that warehouse…?" You began, remembering how he had returned, wiping his mouth.

"I was hungry, and I needed to eat," he said, his voice low.

"So you just went and killed someone?" You asked, unable to keep the judgement out of your voice.

"No, he was very much alive, just passed out," he explained.

"And you didn't kill him," you pressed, not entirely convinced.

"I didn't," he insisted.

"But what if you did? What if the next time you went to get some 'sustenance' you did actually kill them?" You asked, starting to panic.

"Y/N," he said softly, taking your hand. "I would never hurt you,"

You looked at his face, searching for any signs that he was lying. But his eyes were filled with nothing but sincerity, and a hint of sadness. His gaze drifted to your lips, and his expression changed, becoming softer, and a little more intimate.

You quickly looked away, back to the list of vampire facts, and cleared your throat.

"Mind control," you read, and felt his gaze linger on you.

"Not to my knowledge," he replied.

"You can't enter a house without being invited," you continued, and his hand tightened around yours.

"Is that a request, or a demand?" He asked, his tone playful.

"It's a question," you countered, blushing slightly.

"Yes, but most invite me in without hesitation," he said, giving your hand a light squeeze. "You did,"

"Oh," you muttered, feeling a little embarrassed.

Your eyes went back to the mind control section, and a thought crossed your mind.

"Have you used mind control on me?" You asked, a sense of unease washing over you.

"I don't know," he admitted. "If I have, I'm not aware of it."

"Oh," you mumbled, not knowing what to say, but curiosity got the better of you. "Try to, make me do something,"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, something harmless," you said, thinking for a moment. "Make me sing a song,"

"Very well," he agreed, looking thoughtful.

You waited, expecting to start singing. But nothing happened.

"Do you feel any different?" He asked.

"No, nothing," you said, disappointed.

"I don't know what else to suggest," he said, a frown marring his features.

"I don't know, look me in the eye and tell me to do it? Like... Tell yourself you can do it? I don't know… maybe it's a belief thing…?" you offered.

He nodded, and then turned to look directly at you. His dark eyes were intense, and his lips curved into a smile.

"Sing me a song, sweet girl," he said, his voice echoing strangely in your mind.

You told yourself not to sing, to sit quietly and not react. You repeated it over and over, until the words were all that was in your head.

But his voice seeped into the ribbons of your brain, dancing behind your eyes. You lost your awareness of time and space, and suddenly, a melody rose up from within you.

You opened your mouth and the words came tumbling out, and you started singing an old song that had been stuck in your head for days.

Elijah sat back and looked surprised, a small smile on his lips. You stopped singing, your face flushing in embarrassment.

"Holy shit," you gasped, a strange sensation creeping through your mind, like cobwebs being blown away. "It worked,".

"You have a lovely voice," he said, his tone gentle and kind.

"How did you do that?" You asked, feeling unnerved.

"I don't know," he admitted, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "I just believed that I could, and you did as I asked,"

You suddenly stood up, tossing the blankets off of you and heading to your wine rack.

"I need a drink," you declared, and picked a random bottle.

You poured yourself a generous amount, and drank it all in one gulp. Then poured yourself another glass. You looked over at him, and noticed the way his eyes followed the glass as it reached your lips.

"Do you want some?" You asked, the wine giving you courage.

"No, thank you," he replied.

You sat back down on the sofa, and took a long sip. Thinking about all the possibilities of what his vampire status meant.

"Could you mind control my mortgage payments away?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Possibly," he said, smiling a little.

"Could you use your super speed to clean my apartment?" You teased, taking another sip.

"You're not thinking big enough," he replied, his grin growing wider. "I would love to leave this city, find a home in a new town and live a normal life."

"I'm not sure normal is something you could ever be," you quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"You might have a point," he conceded, his tone wistful.

He pointed to the artwork on your walls, you had purchased them at Ikea ages ago. They were those generic wanderlust posters of different famous travel destinations.

"Pick one," he said.

"What?"

"I'll take you there," he offered, his voice soft.

"Seriously?"

"I owe you so much, I think this is the least I can do," he replied.

You stared at him, your mind struggling to process his offer. Was he for real? Was he really willing to take you around the world?

"Paris," you blurted out, a blush rising to your cheeks. "I've always wanted to go,"

"Paris it is," he agreed, and your heart skipped a beat.

"Really?" You asked, unable to hide the excitement in your voice.

"Absolutely," he said, his tone sincere. "I would love nothing more than to take you."

"That's so sweet," you gushed, your face heating up even more.

"So, Paris?" He asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

"Yeah," you agreed, nodding your head.

"Then we will leave first thing in the morning," he said, his expression brightening.

"But I have work... I need to take time off-" you started to say.

"Forget about all of that," he cut you off, his tone gentle. "I can mind control people, remember? I'll just take care of everything,"

You laughed, the ridiculousness of the situation finally hitting you. He was a vampire, who had mind control powers, and was offering to take you on a trip to Paris.

"This is insane," you giggled, feeling slightly hysterical.

"Indeed," he agreed, grinning.

You finished your wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. His proximity was starting to make you feel hot, and a little giddy.

"So," you began, trying to distract yourself. "I guess I'll go pack my bags,"

"I can buy you anything we need when we arrive," he suggested.

"Are we gonna fly? Like on a plane?"

"I was thinking that I could just jump really hard and we can just land in Paris," he said, a serious expression on his face.

"Oh shut up," you giggled, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

He chuckled and shook his head.

You smiled and sat back, taking a moment to reflect on the day's events. It had been an emotional roller coaster, and your head was still reeling from the revelation that vampires were real, and sitting in your apartment. But the prospect of a trip to Paris made your heart flutter with joy.

"I can't believe I'm going to Paris," you said, letting out a happy sigh.

"We," he corrected, smiling.

"We," you echoed, a warm feeling spreading through you and a huge grin appearing on your face.

This was going to be the best vacation ever.

France was just as magical as you imagined it would be. Elijah took you to the most luxurious hotel in the city, and ordered a feast fit for royalty. The food was incredible, the atmosphere romantic, and the company... Well the company was a bit odd.

The vampire man, who could control humans with his mind, who had saved you from being mugged, and who was now whisking you around the world, was a little hard to ignore.

What was harder to ignore was the raging jealousy you felt every time someone flirted with him. He was like a magnet for hot people of all kinds, and they would flock to him like moths to a flame.

It was ridiculous really. How they would throw themselves at him, practically begging him to fuck them, and he would politely decline. You felt a surge of satisfaction, knowing that no matter how good looking they were, no matter how talented their tongue, his attention belonged to you.

You were currently strolling along the Seine, admiring the sights, when you noticed a group of young women watching Elijah.

"They're looking at you," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

Elijah didn't bother looking up from his guidebook, but a smirk spread across his lips.

"I'm sure they are," he replied, sounding amused.

"Why are girls so obsessed with you?" You asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of your voice.

"I have been told I'm... As the young say these days, a snack," he said, laughing at his own joke.

You couldn't help but snort and laugh along with him. He was a complete dork sometimes, and it made him all the more endearing.

He looked over at you and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He had been feeding from plenty of tourists, much healthier blood than the people he found on the streets of New York. His complexion was no longer the sickly grey it had been. Now he looked healthier, his skin glowing, and his eyes shining.

"Do you think I'm a snack?" He asked, his tone playful.

"I think you're an entire six course meal," you replied, trying to sound cool.

"Is that so?" He asked, an eyebrow raising.

You flushed and looked away, trying to hide your embarrassment. Why were you acting like such a teenager?

"Yeah," you murmured, fidgeting with your jacket zipper.

"Perhaps you'd like a bite," he said, his voice low and inviting.

"Oh stop it," you groaned, pushing him playfully.

"No seriously, I've seen how you look at me. You want to sink your teeth into me," he teased, giving you a wink.

"That's you, Mr. Vampire," you retorted, sticking your tongue out at him.

He grinned and reached for your hand, taking it in his and bringing it to his lips.

Your heart rate increased, and your cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat rising to your face, and you quickly pulled away.

"You're such a flirt," you finally managed, shaking your head. "I bet if you kissed the hand of one of those girls over there, they would swoon right into the river,"

"I could," he agreed, looking at the group of young women.

The group of girls noticed him looking and they quickly began giggling and whispering amongst themselves. One of the girls waved at him and he waved back, his expression playful.

You couldn't help but smile at his antics. He seemed much happier here in Europe than he did back home, and his smile was infectious.

"See, they are already falling over themselves for you," you laughed.

One of the girls broke off from the group and walked up to Elijah. She was stunning, with long blonde hair, and big brown eyes. She said something to him in French, and he laughed and responded.

When you landed in France, Elijah could speak French perfectly. He didn't even notice he was doing it until you called him out on it. Making you both wonder just how much knowledge was locked away inside his mind.

You couldn't understand what they were saying, but the conversation seemed lighthearted. He took your hand and kissed it again, before saying something else to the girl.

She giggled and looked at you, giving you a wide smile. "Zhou are very lucky to 'ave such a fine 'usband."

You were shocked by her words, and you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Oh, we're not married," you stammered, shaking your head.

"Oh," she said, her eyebrows raising. "'E is zee lover?"

You couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. The idea of Elijah being your lover was too ridiculous to consider. But before you could correct her again, he spoke up.

"Oui, je suis votre amant," he purred, a wicked grin spreading across his lips.

Your stomach clenched at his words, and your mind struggled to come up with a response.

"Oui, oui, très romantique," the girl giggled, giving you a knowing look. "I'll let you get back to your 'oneymoon,"

She waved at you, and you awkwardly waved back.You watched her join her friends, who all began whispering and giggling again, the blonde fanning herself dramatically and clutching her chest.

"Did you just tell her that we were lovers?" You asked, turning to look at him.

His lips twitched into a faint smile, though he avoided meeting your gaze. “I thought it might discourage her interest.”

Your irritation faltered, replaced by something warmer. “She’s beautiful, Elijah. Why wouldn’t you want her attention?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the cobblestones. When he finally looked up, his dark eyes were steady but uncertain. “Because she’s not you.”

The world seemed to tilt, the bustling streets fading into silence. You stared at him, your chest tight.

“Elijah...” you began, but whatever you were about to say was lost as he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a tentative kiss.

It was soft at first, hesitant, as though he were unsure if he was doing it right. But when you responded, your hands gripping his coat, your lips parting for him, his hesitation melted away. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened.

The sound of giggles broke the spell, and you pulled back, breathless and flushed. The group of girls was watching you, their laughter light and teasing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Elijah’s forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Was that... acceptable?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

You laughed softly, your hand sliding to his jaw. “More than acceptable.”

Relief flickered across his face, though his cheeks were still flushed. “I wasn’t sure if I...” He trailed off, his uncertainty palpable.

“You were perfect,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his cheek.

His lips curved into a small smile, and for a moment, the two of you simply stood there, the city alive around you but forgotten in the haze of the moment.

"That was my first kiss," he said with a small laugh.

You smiled, your hand cupping his cheek, tracing along his jawline. Taking in his handsome face, his deep brown eyes, his soft lips. You wanted more, you wanted it all.

"I have a strong feeling you've done that plenty of times before, you just don't remember," you teased, your gaze darting to his lips.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his fingers gently caressing your sides.

"Perhaps," he conceded, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You stood on your tiptoes, and leaned in close, your lips inches away from his.

"Maybe I should refresh your memory," you said, your voice soft and flirty, "Back at our hotel,"

"Yes," he agreed, his smile growing wider. "And after, perhaps we could discuss this 'lover' business further,"

You snorted and playfully hit him on the shoulder, and his deep, sexy laugh echoed through the streets of Paris.

"Shut up, you are so cheesy," you giggled, your cheeks hurting from how wide your grin was.

He took your hand and kissed the top, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Let's go," he said, his voice warm and full of promise.

The two of you rushed down the street, and headed back to the hotel. The possibilities running through your head, making your heart pound with excitement.

Paris was already the most romantic place on earth, but now, with Elijah by your side, it was about to become unforgettable.

It had been quite a while since you last had sex, and you were feeling more than a little pent up. It also didn't help that Elijah was stupidly hot and a complete gentleman.

You had fantasized about him multiple times since the moment you met, and now the opportunity to make those dreams a reality was right in front of you.

You wondered what having sex with a vampire would be like, would he use his fangs? Would he be gentle or rough? You shivered, the thought exciting you more than it should.

The two of you rode the elevator up to your room in silence, both of you trying not to rush, but the tension was thick. He was holding your hand, and when the doors opened, you both hurried down the hall.

You let out a squeal as he scooped you up before you reached the door, carrying you the rest of the way. He used his supernatural speed, and before you could register what was happening, he was already kicking the door open and stepping inside.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and the excitement coursing through your veins. He gently placed you on the bed, and you let out a soft gasp as he crawled over you.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice low and soft.

You could feel the blush spreading across your face, and the heat pooling in your core. He kissed your neck, and you let out a soft moan.

"I confess I haven't done this before," he murmured against your skin, his hands caressing your sides.

"I really doubt that," you said with a laugh, your voice breathless. "Have you seen yourself? Whoever you were before you lost your memories... He was a ladies man, I can guarantee it,"

He laughed and shook his head, slowly unbuttoning your dress.

"I suppose I'll just have to rely on my instincts," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face.

And those instincts... were impeccable.

His hands were warm and gentle on your bare skin, his lips soft and teasing. He took his time taking off your dress, savoring the moment, until you were finally lying beneath him, completely naked.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you could feel the heat rising in your face. His eyes were dark and hungry, and you were desperately trying to keep your cool. But it was nearly impossible, especially with his perfect body looming over you.

You leaned up and kissed him, a deep, passionate kiss that left you breathless. Your hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his pants. He chuckled, helping you remove his clothing. Your fingers traced along his firm chest, and down his arms, enjoying the feel of his skin.

You could tell he was a little nervous, his movements slow and tentative. He avoided your gaze, but kept glancing at you. A slight blush crept up his cheeks, and he let out a soft sigh.

"I do not wish to disappoint you," he confessed. "I fear I may fail at this task,"

You cupped his cheek, and gave him a soft smile.

"It's okay," you reassured him, your tone gentle. "We'll figure it out together,"

He nodded, and let out a shaky breath. You kissed him, trying to help him relax, and he returned the gesture with a little more confidence.

You gently guided his hands to where you wanted them, showing him what made you feel good. His fingers gently brushed over your slit, and a soft moan escaped you. He looked a little surprised, but his lips curved into a faint smile.

He began to explore, his thumb circling your clit. His movements were slow and deliberate, and you found yourself arching into his touch.

"Like this?" He asked, his voice soft and teasing.

"Mhm," you murmured, a blissful smile on your lips.

He kissed your neck, and you could feel his fangs brushing against your skin. The thought sent a shiver of excitement through you, and a soft moan slipped out.

His fingers eased inside you, curling just right, and you couldn't help but gasp. He let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you.

"I take it that's the right spot?" He teased, his voice low and seductive.

"Mhm," you moaned, nodding your head.

"What a pretty little sound," he praised, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, and he continued his gentle assault on your senses. His fingers worked you slowly, and his lips on yours felt divine.

The heat was rising, and you could feel the pressure building inside you. His thumb teased your clit, and his fingers stroked you just right. Your hips rocked against his hand, and he let out a soft hum of approval.

"Elijah," you moaned, your voice low and breathless.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He murmured, his lips trailing down your neck.

"I'm so close," you panted, your nails digging into his skin.

"Go on," he urged, his fingers increasing their pace.

Your breath caught in your throat, your legs trembling. The heat was almost unbearable, and you could feel yourself teetering on the edge. You closed your eyes, lost in the sensation, and then it was crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure washing over you.

You opened your eyes, and he was watching you with a bit of wonder in his gaze. You flushed, your heart still pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat in his eyes, and you knew he was enjoying this as much as you were.

When the aftershocks finally faded, he gently withdrew his fingers, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss. You could feel his hardness pressing against you, and a sense of need overtook you.

You splayed your hands on his chest and pushed him onto his back, straddling him, and giving him a good view of your body.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed. He was gorgeous, and you felt a surge of pride knowing that he was yours.

Your hands were moving steadily downward, and when they reached his belt, you slowly started unbuckling it.

His breathing was getting heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as you touched him through his boxers. He let out a low groan, his hands reaching for your hips, pulling you closer.

You could feel the heat radiating from him, his arousal pressing against your core. His eyes were hooded, and his breathing was ragged. You slowly pulled his boxers down, his thick cock springing free.

"My my," you said with a smirk, taking his length in your hands and stroking him gently. "Is this all for me?"

He groaned, his hips rocking forward, eager for more contact.

"All yours," he panted, his voice low and husky.

You could see the desire in his eyes, the need burning within him. And as his fingers dug into your hips, guiding you into position, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his length, hissing as he stretched and filled you.

"Oh," you moaned, your head tilting back as he bottomed out.

He was big, and it had been awhile, you reached out for him, and he sat up and took your hands, kissing each one.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his tone soft and concerned.

"Yes," you breathed, your eyes meeting his. "You feel really good,"

His lips curved into a satisfied smile, and his fingers caressed the small of your back, gently encouraging you to move.

You began rocking your hips, slowly at first, and then building up to a steady pace. You were panting, the friction delicious, and he was gripping your hips tightly, his own movements matching yours.

The room was filled with the sounds of your pleasure, the bed creaking beneath you, the headboard tapping against the wall. The scent of sex and desire permeating the air.

You could feel the flush spreading across your cheeks, and the heat building inside you. He was hitting all the right spots, and the look on his face was making you even more turned on.

He was watching you with such intensity, his gaze focused on your expression. Every time you moaned, or shuddered in pleasure, his lips would curve into a satisfied smirk, and his grip would tighten on your hips.

You were close, the pressure coiling within you, and you could tell he was close too. His movements were becoming more frantic, and his breathing was coming in short gasps.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. He responded eagerly, pushing you backwards, and pinning you beneath him. He gripped your hips tightly, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

You cried out, your nails digging into his shoulders. You were so close, teetering on the edge, and then you felt his fangs brush against your neck, and that was all it took.

The pressure released, waves of pleasure washing over you, and you cried out, your legs shaking. He groaned, his movements becoming erratic, and then he was spilling himself inside you, his cock throbbing and twitching.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot on your neck, and his skin slick with sweat. Your fingers gently traced along his spine, and he let out a satisfied hum.

He rolled off of you, and laid down beside you, his hand reaching for yours. You laid on your side, and intertwined your fingers with his, a content smile on your lips.

"That was amazing," you breathed, letting out a soft laugh.

He chuckled, his eyes fluttering shut.

"I agree," he murmured, his tone soft and sleepy.

You gently kissed his forehead, and then his cheek, and his lips. He smiled, his eyes closed, his expression peaceful.

You had never seen him like this before, and it made your heart swell. You couldn't help but lean forward and place a kiss on his chest, right above his heart.

You scooted closer, resting your head on his chest, his heartbeat steady and reassuring.

"I love you," you whispered, your fingers gently tracing along his collarbone.

He stirred slightly, his lips curving into a faint smile.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

You smiled, snuggling against him, and letting the warmth of his body lull you to sleep.

It had been a long, strange journey, and there were still so many questions left unanswered, but in that moment, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was the man next to you, and the promise of what the future held.

[der-schweizer]

This is a little idea about the post of @proneterror204 make sure to hit them up for the og post.

Danny was somewhere between bored, tired (which he almost always was) and generally not okay. How his parents had managed to draw the attention of Wayne Enterprise and get invited to a Gala that Bruce Wayne himself was hosting, was beyond him.

Granted he hadn't even known about it until about three days ago. Honestly he should be used to getting utterly blindsided by his parents ‘Come on, Danny. We are going to drive for the next three days. It's going to be fun’-type of surprises.

They had just left him enough time to lock down the portal, something his dad should have done, grab his suit that Vlad had gifted him. (As much as he dislikes the Froot Loop, Danny wasn’t stupid enough to throw out a multi-thousand Dollar suit.) And then they were off.

He managed to sneak in a few texts to Sam and Tucker on the ride. So now he was here, halfway bored out of his head. He had already been talked to multiple times, and each time got mistaken for one of the Wayne kids.

Danny could see it honestly. Blue eyes, Black hair, decent build body and an air of exhaustion that hung around most of them like a cloak. It was probably the reason why they kept coming to him. Thankfully he managed to shake them off rather quickly.

He had finally found a quiet corner where he could lurk and eat some of the finger food that was laid out on the buffet. Going for thirds was tempting as everything was very tasty but sadly not very filling.

“Man, I could go for a burger.”

A snort came from next to him, which nearly startled him. The girl that had been in the corner before was putting a hand over her mouth in clear embarrassment.

“Uhm. Hi?” Danny gave an awkward wave, not knowing how he should talk to her. In turn she said a quiet “Hello” whilst also signing it. Danny of course immediately picked up on it.

“Sorry to ask but are you…” he gestured towards his ears, signing himself in case she was deaf. The girl looked at him with surprise before smiling softly. “No, I don't like talking.”

“Ah, perfectly understandable. I do know ASL, one of my friends is almost deaf but she got those fancy implants that let her hear everything.”

In lieu of the answer all he got was an “Mhh.” He went quiet after, having no fucking idea what to talk about. Danny quietly wondered what the fuck he could even talk about, the weather? Either rain or fog. The city? Rockbottom in every poll except for crime. Thinking about it gave him an idea.

“Say, who is your favorite Vigilante?”

The question got her attention, making her think for a moment before quietly saying. “Like Wing. Yours?” Danny mused for a second, humming loudly.

“Hmm, I think it's Orphan. I mean, have you seen her move? Just pure grace and elegance. I bet she is an immortal Vampire that simply got bored and decided to fight crime.”

He didn’t see how she blushed, “No.”

Danny just scoffed, “Are you kidding me? She moves with far too much elegance and grace to be mortal. Credit to the other bats but they move like mortals. She dances around both rogues and vigilantes!”

She turned away for a moment, trying to hide that she was blushing but it didn't really work. “Orphan. Is. good. What about others?”

“Oh, hmm.” Danny looked up whilst tapping a finger against his chin. “Well there’s Red Hood and Stabby Robin. Both are top tier, which should be a no brainer.”

She tilted her head in thought. “Why?”

“Well. Stabby robin practices the art of the sword, a forgotten art in modern times. And Red Hood shoots pedophiles! Who doesn't like that?” Danny set his empty plate aside, looking around for a waiter with drinks.

Her answer drew his full attention back to her. “Batman.”

Danny scoffed at the name. “Yeah, of course he doesn't like that. I mean have you looked at the costume of the very first Robin? Doesn't take much imagination why he dislikes Hood offing pedos.”

A crackle in her ear drew Cass’s attention away from him. “Red Robin here, Lantern and Superman are moving in to arrest his parents. Can you keep him distracted for a while longer?”

“Mmm. You still want burger?”

“Huh? Uh, yeah? Do you know a good place?” The question itself caught him absolutely off guard.

“Yes, take me out?” She tilted her head, giving him a cute look. Danny just shrugged, “Sure, my parents are going to take hours to explain everything anyway and they keep getting sidetracked whilst doing so. I fully expect to still be here tomorrow. Might as well spend the time with a cute girl.”

She blushed visibly, then stuck out her hand. “Cass, we date now.” He grabbed her hand, flushing a bit as well. “I’m Danny.”

“No, not Danny. You boyfriend.” She hooked her arm with his and pulled him along. Danny quickly went along with it, not saying no to it.

In Cass’s ear Red Robin spoke again. “Uh Cass? That wasn't the plan. You don't have to date him. Cass? Please don't make me explain this to B.” A click was heard as another com went to the same line. Batman growled out a simple. “Follow. Them.” before it went off.

Cassandra just put a bit more pep into her step as she pulled her new boyfriend towards her personal favorite Bat burger.

Nightwing clicked his comm on, “Found them. They are in the parking lot at main and fifth street.”

He spent a moment taking a picture of them. It showed them sitting on a concert divider, with Danny pointing up with his left whilst holding a half eaten burger in his right. Cass was sitting next to him,a bunch of fries sticking out of her mouth whilst she was grabbing a bunch more. She is also starring right at the camera. Her look perfectly said ‘if you ruin this date, i will end you’.

Batman's voice echoed in his ear, “Keep your eyes on Danny. He might have the same ideology as his parents. Oa and the lanterns are already moving in on the Ghostly Investigation Ward. We might have to take him into custody if things turn bad.”

Dick was just about to answer when Cass abruptly stood up, dranging Danny up and then away.

“Hold on, they just started moving again.” Nightwing got up from his perch and followed them quickly.

Tim worked on cutting through the strange rope, “Okay. Just to make sure I got everything right. Danny and Cass went to Batburger and had some takeout, then went for a walk in the park whilst you followed them, right?”

Dick who was trying not to wiggle, nodded. "Yeah."

“Then some weird ass shadow creature jumped you, tied you up and hung you from this tree, right?”

“You are forgetting the part where I described it as a lady from the eighteen sixties, and the part where she said to leave ‘the king of kings’ in peace. Other than that you got it spot on.”

“You know, I would make fun of you for that but considering that there is no knot in this rope and its tough as hell I will believe you.”

“Great. Do we know where they went after I lost them?”

Tim looked him right in the eyes. “Steph found them, and considering how red she was when she came back, it's best to wait until morning.”

Dick opened his mouth to ask why before it clicked in his head. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Danny woke up groggy, his eyes were crusted over and his limbs felt heavy. For a moment he just laid there, then did a full body stretch, stretching from toes to fingertips.

After it he laid there for a moment listening to noises in the room. He could hear cars and their horns. Some shouting down the hall and the shower in the bathroom.

That prompted the memories of last night which caused the ‘i got laid’ grin. He let out a satisfied noise, before crossing his arms behind his head.

After a moment Danny wondered if Cass would be up to ‘share’ the shower only for him to freeze at the sight of the Batman in the room.

“Uuuhhh.”

“Daniel James Fenton.” Batman growled out. “You are hereby placed under investigation by the Justice League for potential violation of interdimensional rights. Your parents have already been arrested and are awaiting their trial. Do you have anything to say to that?”

[s-wave-entertainment]

Well, you asked-

For the record, I selected "too morally ambiguous to give an answer." I've thought really hard about J in the last couple of weeks (largely because my feelings about her after ep. 8 were so goddamn convoluted that I still don't know how I feel about her) and I've come to a couple of conclusions that ultimately end up in feeling... bad, for her. So hear me out:

J is a resigned antagonist.

She did bad shit, was extremely shitty to N, and definitely stood on the wrong side of history. But your honor, I have reason to believe she didn't necessarily want to.

The episode 8 exchange she had with V gave us some insight into her I think, particularly the lines "It tricked you! If I promised you anything, it tricked me too." And also "You know there's no escape, even in DEATH!" So offbthe bat, I assume two things:

1) J was initially under the belief that maybe they'll be returned to earth (assuming she didn't know that Earth was gone), or that they'll be spared if they did their jobs properly. Through prolonged interaction/possible dialogue, she probably began to realize that no, they weren't getting away with this, and she was being lied to/tricked. This leads to the second piece of knowledge:

2) I hesitate to think that J was just *okay* with helping the Solver, and tried to get away from it herself several times. But not following orders (refusing to kill) only hurt her by overheating, it didn't matter where she went on the planet because it could still find her, and even dying - to worker drone or uh. Otherwise - had her waking up right back under it's control, under its command. Finally acknowledging she had no way to run, no way to get away from it, she dropped her reservations and began to display the loyalty we see in her throughout the series.

Now I also have an additional headcanon here, so take this bit with a grain of salt, but in ep. 2, N claims that J "was getting orders from *someone.*" I'm sure at this point we all agree it was the Solver, but I argue that she didn't always know that. Me personally, I think all 3 disassembly drones suffered amnesia when they landed on C9. This has relevance, I promise, because if J was the head honcho and was receiving orders from someone, there's very few people I think she would just Listen To without having proof that they were somehow higher in command than her. The Solver could prove that by hurting her, yes, but we know that its main tactic isn't physical harm, rather manipulation. And with the knowledge that the Solver can impersonate voices to a t, I argue that so long as J was still under a degree of amnesia, the Solver could have been using Tessa's voice in J's head. This way J obeys without question; but eventually she put the pieces together that something was wrong, and yadda yadda yadda, already said this part. I also have a little analysis on J that I'm not quite sure how to reword (sorry bestie I'm cramming to try to finish assignments before my finals next week) but I do have the conversation where I tried to explain myself to my wonderful boyfriend, which I will place here for your consideration:

In conclusion, J was manipulated like the rest of them until she put the pieces together and realized that something wasn't right - but every time she tried to run, she just woke up right back at square one. Silently resigned, she decided to stand with the Solver in hopes of protecting herself. Maybe she got enjoyment out of it, maybe she didn't. I'm still figuring that part out.

Rb and all that jazz

[stinkrat-aleks]

Only if you want to! but would love to hear your thoughts about telepaths/psionics bias within the in-universe mutant community. I've always liked seeing Erik's particular dilemma explored in fanworks since in the movies we got to see his relationship with different telepaths, but I always like seeing it explored more generally too. so I guess I was wondering if you'd explored/thought about these bits of canon too, and of course, no worries if not!

Hello!! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this, I was thinking my answer over and all the stuff I wanted to say (/overthinker).

I think a LOT about psionphobia (or whatever the term would be called) in-universe. Especially because to me, mutations are symbolic for disabilities and different neurotypes. The term “neurodivergent” describes people whose brain differences affect how their brain works…and to me, that means all telepaths are inherently neurodivergent.

Now I see Charles as autistic, but even if he WASN'T autistic, that means his psychic powers affect the way he perceives social situations, information, etc.

And so, when I see in-universe characters (like XMFC Raven) tell Charles to stay out of their minds—while I understand the desire for privacy—it feels ableist to me. I'd understand if Raven asked Charles to keep out of her more private thoughts, but to keep out of her mind in general feels almost like asking an autistic person to stop stimming when they're around you.

Like, that's just the way Charles is. He probably overhears people's thoughts and feelings at a surface level at all times, without the intention of delving deeper.

This artist does a REALLY pretty comic depicting this and it's 1000% how I headcanon Charles' telepathy now, please go read and reblog the full thing if you haven't already:

Artist: yancant on tumblr

I also think just because Charles CAN intrude on people's innermost secrets, doesn't mean he necessarily WILL. Like, lots of people drive a car. Anyone could technically plow that car into a crowd of people. But most other people assume they won't. So we don't freak out when we see cars. Ya know.

With that logic it feels unfair to assume Charles is going to do bad things with his telepathy simply because he can. ALL humans are capable of bad things! Why is he being singled out for the way he thinks.

Re:Erik, he is the only one who seems to understand this. Him inviting Charles to be in his head (in fanworks but also XMFC) shows that he is not only tolerating Charles' mutation but EMBRACING it. (We all know he has a telepathy kink but that's something different okay.) To use the neurodivergent metaphor, he's telling Charles it's okay to unmask around him.

Like obviously this scene is very emotional for Erik, and Charles is definitely too caught up in his savior complex to take notice of his own emotions, but imagine!! Feeling that welcomed in someone else's mind for the first time!! And them not pushing you out or getting angry for touching a sensitive memory!

I have no idea any of that makes sense or if I'm grasping for straws but that's my overall take on it.

ANYWAYS…so that's my overall take on it. In terms of the soccer AU I'm currently working on..I have other thoughts and some of it will be addressed in futuer chapters (I'm gonna try to upload today). So we'll see. Sorry if this completely didn't answer your question LMFAO.

[munchbell45]

shino for the character ask game :p

What I Love: I think that the Aburame clan abilities are very cool and unique. They're pretty good for stealth and the ability to drain the enemy's chakra is cool and useful. It would have been cool to see more of Shino in action.

I also like seeing analytical characters in action, strategizing plans in the middle of a fight and managing to outwit their foes.

What I Wish Was Understood: This one is hard for me to think about.

Headcanons: I can imagine Shino spending a lot of time in the woods, collecting insects and recording their unique traits and drawing them. Actually, I could see him being very good at drawing in general, especially animals.

Who I like to see him interact with: I find it funny when he interacts with loudmouth characters. I also like how Hinata is very supportive of him.

Who He Should Interact More With: Anyone, really. I feel like he didn't get as much focus later on in the series compared to some of the other members of the Konoha 12. Maybe somebody from another village? Ooh- Or maybe Kankuro in Shippuden, since they fought as enemies in the Konoha crush.

Headcanons with other characters: I could see him and Hinata walking in the woods together. he'd talk about all of the unique animals (insect or otherwise) that live in the forest, and she'd talk about the flowers.

I could also see Tsume and Shibi (Kiba's mom and Shino's dad) trying to form closer ties between the Inuzuka and Aburame clans since both of their sons are on the same team and eventually become friends.

[schumi-nadal]

Wow, I didn't think that post would get me even more hate to be honest 😅

First of all, I wasn't talking about ALL Carlos fans but about some "fans" (you can't call them like that, not after the really harsh words I received) who came into my asks when i asked nothing: I never was mean about Carlos, i didn't even defend Charles. I only posted 2-3 things related to this Charlos gate or whatever the fandom is calling it.

Here are some of the posts in questions:

After the first one, I received insults (anons and non anons, I don't know what is worst, that's what I was talking about them being younger and not knowing how the Schumi era and baby Shumi era were, (the non-anos were 17-18) because people misunderstood it (or understood what they wanted to understand).

After one or two more posts after the end of the race, it escalated very quickly, I received death threats! That's very serious! How can it come to this for a FUCKING sport? There are more serious things in life!

So, yeah, I was quite pissed after that.

Also, I didn't even defend Charles in my post, rereading now and I undertand I may have sound like I did but I'm French and I may have translated word by word what i wanted to say (it's a bit complicated but we sometimes use "you" to talk about people + ourserlves in some sketchy expressions). Anyway, what he said was definitely inappropriate and very "childish" in a way. Those words should had been spoken in private with his team and Carlos, not in front of million of people; and I think if FIA penalised swear words, they should start looking at those kind of statements.

Also, for those saying that I would be the kind of person to insult their favorite driver(s), you don't know me, you can even check my blog if you have nothing more interesting to do (lol), I never insulted anyone like some people do in f1blr. We can dislike or even hate a driver with our whole being, that's ok, for each their own I guess. We can't love everyone, you have the right to defend your favs, that's our choice too, but don't go and roast people when they didn't even say something wrong in the first place. (again, i hope those anons are reading it)

I never got haters before today (just one a few months ago with tennisblr but it was more a troll more than anything else) I usually don't interract a lot because I don't like conflicts but receiving multiple insults for something I can't control: I'm not Charles, I can't control what he says, I'm not a Carlos hater neither, i'm just here, blogging and reblogging stuff I love, mostly sports, sometimes with my particular sense of humor.

Nobody is perfect for sure, and I'm sorry if some of you thought I was just calling out Carlos or defending Charles. He may be one of my favourite drivers, just like other drivers can be yours: all of them are not flawless and we may continue to like them or not after different sorts of situations, that's up to us.

To finally finish my thesis (sorry if you're still reading), I didn't know that I would be so stressed on tumblr one day (call me a sensitive person) but this website is my sanctuary, I hope it will stay like that for a very long time but you can't be appreciated by the whole world, I lost some of my mutuals and i accept that. This morning's messages went too far and that's not normal to say thing like that, no matter how peacecul I am, I had to call them out. Also, on my other fandoms, you can share thought without (or almost) getting attacked verbally, that's sad that it's not the same anymore here, but yeah, football is the same.

You can choose to answer or not, I won't block anyone because I don't feel the need to, opinions can be shared but respectfully, I would be happy to talk more if some of you are up to.

So, I don't know what to add, have a great end of the season, everyone!

i don't know if everyone who reblogged or commented can see it when I reblog it so i'm tagging y'all: @midesastremanifiesto , @janesurlife , @gaypoetsblog , @katarf1a , @chaitalinath , @danieldrivesfast , @landhoe-norris , @eightsixtiism

One thing is funny about being insulted by all those Carlos "fans" (won't call them real fans tbh he deserves way better than toxic people): I was already watching F1 that they were not born, if you think that Charles was shitty today, just remember we had Michael Schumacher as the most dramatic queen ever and Sebastian Vettel was a little Gremlin at some points. REAL FANS WERE NOT FIGHTING FOR THAT!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

about that one lan qiren & jin guangshan art: .....does that mean wen ruohan has both or is he as flat as a board on the opposite? XD

Mans so flat they rotated him 90 degrees and he disappeared from the narrative.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

I'm turning jg over in my brain. So much. It's so good. Your talent at laying down plot threads and then creating long-arching follow throughs is genuinely second-to-none. I've been born in the correct generation I swear.

Related to that though: what's your writing process like?? Your plots are so interconnected and complex, how does planning for that work? Also, you write so quickly?? It's so cool?? How?? I'm flabbergasted?? My flappers are gasted.

Anyway I love you very much. Please take of yourself and have a great day

i uh- wouldn't know how to explain it lmao i just write. i guess the good memory certainly helps w keeping things in order? i do also have like- a notes document. sometimes it hasn't been a document, sometimes it was just the bottom of the fic back when i used google docs where i'd keep notes on plotpoints i wanted to happen and some things i needed to keep in mind. literally just an annotations bit

actually come to think of it cyanide only had like- a single paragraph of annotations. which is fucking wild given the size of jadeite's annotations? but the problem with jadeite is that i learned my lesson from cyanide in that i always fucking- lose count of how many days have passed in-story??? so i've started doing a day counter, which is somewhat working as a skeleton for the story even tho it's- not really much,, probably another reason why jadeite's annotation page is so long is bc it's somehow more convoluted than cyanide, plot wise. like i know cyanide was convoluted af but at the end of the day there was only a couple of things to keep track of. like it was only one plotline, three if you want to argue (you wouldn't be wrong), but only one main one all the time. not with jadeite lmao there's like 10 plotlines going on simultaneously in this beast

(the fact that i switched to another writing program that lets me make tabs per work may have enabled me to keep a dedicated anotations page that i can just have handy. that's also probably why)

also i don't think itysg had an annotations page. i uh- wrote that straight through beginning to end like a maniac w little to no backtracking

not sure if i'm actually answering the ask w this LMAO i think it helps to keep like- i always write w the ao3 fic open on a different tab, sometimes in 'entire work' and sometimes per chapter, when i want to back-check some stuff,, ctrl+f saves lives.

as for the actual plot- god i'm sorry it's just cause and effect for me. idk how to explain it. to me it's like you're asking me why 2+2=4. A happens so B happens so C happens. A wants this so they do B and that causes C to do D. genuinely at a loss for how to answer this my bad hahah;;,

as for the speed- i'm just a fast writer and my brain has never known peace

[candlebel]

I cared. I still do. I still think of you and I still cry over you. You were importat to me. You still are.

[cosmoknightchaos]

(coughs conspicuously). um. 🌹. for Sky. This is for science purposes. ahem.

🌹(Rose): What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

Purely for science, ey?

Okay first of all before I actually answer this question. Sky's stance on romance as a concept is something I've been trying to figure out since her creation. I don't know how this part of her brain works. It is truly a mystery (<-Aroace who doesn't understand romance in the slightest)

From a platonic standpoint, Sky's looking for people who are similar to her. She likes having friends who see the world the same way she does. For as kind and understanding as she is, Sky's a low-empathy person. She struggles to see things from anything but her perspective- a perspective based more in facts and logic than emotions- and so she automatically likes people who agree with her more. I also believe, because of that, Sky likes folks who are less emotionally conflicted. Which isn't to say she can't handle emotional situations I say as I nervously glance at Act 5 but they're not her favourite thing. She's a reasonable person and she likes reasonable people.

From a romantic standpoint, I cannot stress enough how the stars fucking aligned with Skaide.

Sky is, first of all, really weird when it comes to her romantic orientation. She's probably asexual/demiromantic/panromantic, but I don't know for sure. I know that she experiences both infatuation and romantic interest, very easily confuses the two, and doesn't know the difference between a romantic and a platonic relationship. Sky's in love with the idea of romance more than she is in love, and it makes for incredibly doomed yuri potential.

On the rare occasion she does catch genuine romantic feelings, her type is similar to her platonic type, with a few key differences. Since Sky has a fairly big "stage presence", she leans more towards less-noticeable people. Folks who don't make as grand of an entrance or don't speak quite as loud. Sky has a strong personality and having a more mellow partner evens it out a bit.

All of the words I know of to describe this next bit have negative connotations and that sucks because it's not what I want but I don't know what else to use. Sky likes folks who are opinionated and stubborn. Not in a loud way, but people who have their minds set. Who know what they want. Who aren't very conflicted. Or, who don't seem to be very conflicted. Folks who appear to have their issues under control. Even if said opinions don't fully align with Sky's, as long as they're not in direct opposition, she's willing to adapt her view to match which is a side effect of infatuation, where you want to change yourself to seem more appealing to your person of interest.

I'm going to be honest. I had a whole paragraph written here about how Sky's low-empathy view effects relationships that tied into the Skaide Breakup Arc and why Sky and Jaide are a doomed relationship and I reread it several times and you know what? It was very much out of character. Sky is, despite the low-empathy, very much capable of handling emotional situations and we see that on full display in Act 5. Sure, it's not her best skill, but she is willing to face that issue head-on and try her best to help. So I can confidently say that a lot of Sky's previous romantic experiences, especially the Skaide RP, were just a side effect of me not knowing how to characterize her yet.

But on that note, I still stand by my original comment from months ago that Skaide is a doomed yuri relationship. And I think that all boils down to the fact that, with Sky's low-empathy and experience in emotional conflict, she is a thousand times better at handling platonic experiences than romantic. She is good with having friends and dealing with those issues, but when it comes to romance, she has no fucking clue what to do. It is an unexplored part of her life, and in an attempt to make sense of it, she will always default to treating it like another friendship, regardless of how much she loves the other person. Skaide was doomed from the start because Sky has such a different view on what a romantic relationship is than Jaide does and those views probably aren't going to align. Ever. Skaide is always going to end in them remaining friends because that's the type of relationship Sky is comfortable having.

Now, is there a chance that, somewhere down the line, Sky realizes she loves Jaide enough to try and change that view? Hell yeah. But that's going to come after a lot of conflict and struggle and uncomfortableness. Because, in order for them to become a romantic relationship, Sky has to do the one thing she cannot stand and ignore her logic, ignore the reasoning she always fell back on, and use her emotions to change as a person. And then maybe there's a chance things will work out.

I'd like to finish this off by saying Sky is still in the development stage as a character. I have no idea if any of this will still be true in a couple months' time- Act 5 is Sky's act and I fully believe she's not going to escape development hell until it is finished. But I do know that this is where her character stands right now, and I have a good feeling that it won't change too much over the next few months.

[akeemarcus]

He stared at him for a handful of seconds, gauging his reaction before his shoulders lifted and fell into a casual shrug, letting it go. ❝ Alright. ❞ He wasn't sure he believed him, drawing all sorts of wrong conclusions, like maybe he had a crush on Isla or something . . . but he wasn't bothered by it, either. He was, surprisingly, not a jealous person. Not when it came to the living.

❝ Sorry, man. I know that's not what you wanted to hear. ❞ Kingston knew it wasn't comforting, but anything else would be a lie. And while he was clearly capable of dishonesty, he wasn't a path logical liar or anything ; just a dumb kid in over his head. ❝ If it's any consolation, I think it just makes it mean more . . . when there's something to lose. ❞ Of course, everyone had different stakes, he could never explain how much was actually on the line with him. Maybe if he could, it would make Thomas' reasons seem less suffocating. Or maybe he would just instantly hate him.

❝ We're friends, ain't we? ❞ He knew as he said it that it wasn't entirely true ; though he appeared to be a social butterfly, Kingston didn't have friends, not really. A friend to all was a friend to none. It was hard to be close to people when they could never know you and he, Marcus, had always been more of a loner. He wanted to be loved, he craved appreciation like oxygen, but he did not care to be surrounded by people. Still, he liked Thomas enough — he liked all of them here, perhaps some ( Isla ) more than others, he cared about their well beings. But what did that matter, when he had cared about Luke's, too?

I was like his fuckin' pet or something. The words, though meant to be about himself, felt like a slap to Kingston's face. That was how he had acted, wasn't it? Like a stray dog following him around, lost the moment his owner was gone, not knowing what he was meant to do . . . who he was meant to be. He had practically worshiped the ground Luke walked on, let his charm win people over for him ; he did anything and everything he was asked without question, as if there was no reason to doubt him, no reason to take a step back and wonder what Luke was getting out of their friendship. He longed to be seen as his equal so much he was willing to give a life, though not his own, for it. Now, he drew a ragged breath, the air around them seeming to drop ten degrees with new realizations.

❝ He was my best friend, you know, ❞ he spoke after a moment, the words so genuine they felt heavy in a different way. ❝ First real friend I ever made. Well. I thought he was, anyway . . . guess I was a pretty shitty one, too. ❞ Arguably worse ; would Luke have gone looking for him, had he been missing? He didn't know . . . he didn't know which answer was worse. When he spoke again, a strange tone took over his voice, like a warning, his eyes trained on the distance, seeing something that wasn't there. ❝ It sucks, doesn't it? — When people don't turn out to be who you thought they were. ❞

AT KINGSTON'S QUESTION , thomas's head flew up , a heated flush crawling up his neck and dampening his features in a scarlet humiliation . " w-what ?? NO , man — god . fuckin' hell , i'm just — i'm not trying to say anything . " tom heaved a sigh , pushing his hand through his hair — fisting his curls , only to hiss in response to the agonizing irritation of the gash still tacky on the back of his skull .

thomas swallowed down the man's words , let them fester in his gut like a brewing sickness , and crinkled his brows as he moved the pad of his thumb to his clenched teeth . his bite found his cuticle , beginning to gnaw at it ferociously , his other arm wrapping around his torso to offer his bent elbow a post of stability . " there's no way someone doesn't get hurt , " thomas echoed , shaking his head , as if the response wasn't to his satisfaction and he was hoping — praying — for the man to say anything else .

thomas didn't necessarily believe in happy endings , but he was hoping there was some reality in which he and eliza got out of the predicament they were in unscathed . that camille would accept them , their connection , with open arms , minimal questions , and little restraint . little resistance . it was a fantastical concept meant to ease his own guilt , but kingston's words struck like a metal spear — a reminder that there was no way to get to the other side of this without someone , without camille , being there to break his fall .

" i dunno , " the man shrugged , frowning at the blanket of soot-caked grass . " there's just , " thomas sighed . " there's this girl , i uh , i met her , , , , back home , " not a lie . " — that's why i'm askin' . SHE'S why i'm askin' . and i don't know if you know this but my only friend , that isn't my sister , turned out to be a demonic shit bag . though , now that i'm fuckin' thinkin' about it , i don't think he was ever my fuckin' friend to begin with . i was like his , , , his fuckin' pet or something . " rambling now , thomas cleared his throat , finally prying his thumb from his mouth to drop his chin to his sternum ; " god , i don't even know what i'm talkin' about . i need a fuckin' smoke . "