#the scene in the bridge really made me think though

[deliberatelyamnesiac]

i'm about to finish part two from c&p, raskolnikov's indirect confessions being taken as signs of insanity is so funny in a tragic way

[dunadaan]

I’ve been feeling Créa creep up on me as of late and today I went back and reread my little document where I type up random ideas for scenes/fics and I was like. Wow who wrote this. This is really good. Why isn’t there more of this damn. But also wow I really put miss créa through the blender and she is a fine red mist a lot. But that is the life of a ranger…and even when she’s not a ranger anymore I press blend on high and she is sadly used to that

[questionablecuttlefish]

Okay Fine Let's Talk Timebomb and Season Two.

I do want to talk about this because I have a Lot of thoughts and feelings and it has been building up and building up, not only based on what's happening in other social spaces, but what people keep bringing into mine despite my best efforts to avoid it.

This isn't any kind of hatepost, I don't think I could hate Ekko or the ship if I tried, I just want to explain my very mixed feelings about the whole thing.

My likely-to-be-very unpopular take on Season Two's Timebomb romance is that it left me feeling uneasy and uncomfortable.

Not with what was in the show itself, I feel like that was perfect. Powder and Ekko sold me completely. They made me feel things. I even liked how Ekko and Jinx's story ended. I think it was beautiful, poignant, perfect...

...until.

'The Discourse' since, the way the fan culture has exploded around it, and particularly some of the creators' commentary on it, has made me sour on the whole thing.

It feels like I'm suddenly part of an increasingly small subset of people who saw what they did with S2 Timebomb and applied our media literacy to what was on our screens and got something very different to what the fandom consensus seems to be.

For context, I semi-shipped TB before this. Though I've always been Team Lightcannon, I had a lot of respect for timebomb, I understood it, I had read a few very good fics, I was just in the space of "Jinx has hurt Ekko too much for him to ever fully forgive her for murdering his friends, they might come to an understanding, and there will always be a silent undercurrent of love beneath the hurt, they may fight together on the same side again someday, but whatever bond they had as kids is broken and they can't go back, and both know it."

I respected, and still do, people who shipped them romantically, but I've always seen them as a broken childhood friendship being a much more interesting dynamic, and being hot for each other lessening that to an extent and not really adding anything to it.

All of his interactions with Jinx in season one are violent; she murders five Firelights point-blank in front of him in her intro scene, and Ekko reacts particularly upset to the pink-haired girl, Eve or Eva, whom Jinx shoots in the back. It's clear this isn't even the first time she's fought them. We don't know how many of Ekko's found family she's put on the Memorial Wall or how close he was with any of them.

Ekko is clearly convinced that "Powder" is gone, and the person who replaced her is a cold-blooded killer who can't be reasoned with. Leading to the Bridge confrontation, and this:

This is the first time Ekko catches a glimpse of "Powder", yes, but more importantly, this is the first moment he recognizes Jinx's humanity. He's hurting her, killing her, and he can't do it.

....and she knows he can't do it.

So, to save him the weight, she pulls a grenade, with the intent to kill them both, foreshadowing quite neatly where Ekko/Jinx (but not Ekko/Powder) is going to go in S2.

Fast forwarding from Season One here, Ekko disappears for 2/3rds of the second season, completely offscreen.

When we catch up with him he's woken up in the S2E7 AU; the Powder Timeline.

Here's where I start to get a little confused by the fandom take. Because, you know, I've seen enough Star Trek and Stargate and Supernatural and Batman the Animated Series and Quantum Leap to know exactly what this is.

This is the 'bottle episode', this is the 'Perfect World' trope, where the protagonists find themselves in an alternate universe - or trapped in a dream - or they've died or think they've died and this is their 'heaven' - where they have everything they ever wanted.

This is familiar storytelling and E2 follows a familiar pattern, the protagonist struggles to adapt to the surreal new circumstances, they are seduced by the illusion, particularly falling in love with someone in the Perfect World, but eventually, they start noticing something incongruous - something isn't quite right - (In this case, it's Vi's death, and Powder holding back her genius and hiding her grief to be support girl for others) - that reveals the Perfect World to be not as perfect as it seems.

And the hero has to choose to go home, because he realizes that this isn't real, it doesn't belong to him, he doesn't belong here.

Which is exactly what happens with Ekko in E7.

Which brings is to AU!Powder and Jinx.

And here's where I really start to struggle with the seeming consensus that the romance between Ekko/Powder automatically leads to Ekko/Jinx, like you can just transfer the one to the other.

I'm sorry, fam, I thought my basic media literacy was telling me that this girl:

Is not the same person as this girl:

....and I am not getting into any debate about "Jinx" vs "Powder" as identities within our current Jinx. I'm talking about Powder in the E7 AU.

AU!Powder is literally a different human being.

She may have been the same person up until the explosion in Jayce's laboratory, but from that fork in the timeline, she becomes a FUNDAMENTALLY different person to Jinx, shaped by different experiences, different relationships, different life events.

Powder's physicality with Ekko, as you can see in those GIFs, the casual intimacy, the clear affection, the way she touches him, looks at him, her awareness of him in her space, is so utterly opposite to the way Jinx interacts with him that if anything, it nailed home to me how savagely absent this kind of feeling is from his relationship with Jinx.

Powder loves Ekko. She leans on him, snuggles into him, touches his hands, dances with him, kisses him.

Jinx cares so little about him she barely makes eye contact and would casually kill him without blinking.

And I thought that was the point.

I really thought that was the whole point of E7. Being in the perfect world, getting his perfect love story with his perfect Powder, the girl Jinx could have been, but can never be, drove home for Ekko that his feelings for Jinx, both romantic and resentful, were tangled up in his illusions of "Powder", and it took living those illusions as a physical reality for Ekko to see his mistake.

To be true to himself, and true to her, Ekko had to let that go and go home.

To face his world's Jinx, and be there for her in her darkest moment, even if it meant giving up the love he'd found with Powder, a love that belonged to a different Ekko, for someone who could never love him back.

To me that was Ekko's most heroic moment, an act of selfless sacrifice. But that's what it was - a sacrifice.

Meanwhile, Season Two Jinx is not aware of any of this. The last time she saw Ekko was on the bridge where she nearly killed him, and for all we know she might have thought she succeeded.

She never talks about, thinks about, refers to, or even has scribble-nightmares about Ekko, not even once.

Season Two Jinx is, instead, having a love story of her own.

And Isha was and is a PUZZLE to me. Because she's more plot device than character, she isn't necessary except as a way to give Jinx a villain-to-hero arc and a way to reconnect to her humanity.

But she could have been Ekko.

If they really, really wanted us to have Timebomb Canon, instead of confining the entire arc to a bottle episode in an alternate timeline with a literally, physically different girl, they could easily have given all of Isha's considerable screentime to an Ekko and Jinx romance.

I'm sure Amanda Overton would have been on board with that. But that's not what we got. It's almost like reading two different fix-it-fanfics for the same character, put into the same show and running in parallel.

I'm not crazy, this is what's happening for Ekko in s2;

While this is happening for Jinx at the same time.

But Jinx's love story, too, ends with a tragic sacrifice.

And here's where the two stories finally intersect.

When Jinx is in her darkest moment, her absolute rock bottom, Ekko comes back into her life, a miracle, impossible, a Boy Savior.

But she's still ready to kill him.

Because she didn't dance with Ekko. She didn't invent a time machine with him. She didn't sit and watch the city lights with him and share a tender kiss and a heartfelt gift.

That was Powder.

Jinx and Ekko are resuming right where they left off on the bridge, right back to "I pull this pin and we both blow up".

They've both loved and lost, but their stories are absolutely unknown to each other. Ekko Doesn't Know About Isha. Jinx Doesn't Know About Powder.

It's only when Jinx (a genius, a reminder here) sees monkeys of her own design inside the Z-drive - recognizes her own handiwork, but knows SHE didn't make those - that, I think, sheer curiosity stirs her out of her darkness.

She has to know what that was about. She hesitates, just long enough for Ekko to speak. And, though offscreen, he tells her his story, and maybe she tells him hers.

And it's enough, just enough, to set Jinx back on her Redemption Arc, to become the hero Isha always saw in her.

Maybe even the hero Vi and Ekko saw in her, too. Her new costume is full of references to all of the people in her life who never gave up on her.

(side note, the yellow stars and crowns puzzle me, though - they're quite prominent, but who are THEY for? Isha? Maybe? Yellow isn't a color associated with anyone in Jinx's life, but that crown's identical to the one she scribbled on Demacia in Fortiche's map, is... this a very subtle future Lightcannon tease? Nah. I'm not that crazy.)

I mean her costume is also almost literally both a Fishbones and a Fiddlesticks cosplay, with her hair as Fiddle's tongue, so take from that what you will.

It's clear Jinx and Ekko war painted each other for the battle, but the Firelights are also similarly painted up, and (with Linke even confirming this) there really wasn't time to develop anything else, guys.

And I am, honestly, fundamentally angry at anyone who would suggest that, even if she'd been in any space to want it, our boy Ekko, one of the most genuinely good men in recent fiction let alone in Arcane, would take advantage of a girl he just talked out of suicide.

Moving on. During the battle, Ekko is knocked out and lying not far from Jinx. She doesn't even look at him, she leaps up to defend Vi instead.

And that's their final interaction on the show.

Instead of returning to Ekko, Jinx chooses one final act of sacrifice.

Ekko's final shot of the show is this.

He's sitting, alone, burning a mourning paper, where he sat with AU!Powder - where he and AU!Powder kissed - a place that has no significance to himself and Jinx, whatsoever.

It's little wonder who he's thinking about here, and which name he's burning on that paper. The girl he truly loved and lost.

For all he knows, Jinx is dead. But it's not only her he's mourning.

Or maybe he does know, or suspect, she's alive.

But either way, he's making one final act of sacrifice, too, with that paper burning into the breeze.

He's letting her go.

He's choosing his own story.

He's staying where he belongs.

Jinx may have become a symbol of the revolution, but it's Ekko who is, and always will be, the true hero of Zaun.

And this is Jinx's final shot.

Because let's face it, we all know she's on that airship.

She's "breaking the cycle". She's "walking away". She knows that Jinx has left too many scars on the people she still loves - on Vi, on Ekko, on the cities of Piltover and Zaun - for her to pick up the pieces.

She knows that if she's going to find out what "Jinx" might stand for now, she has to go very far away from everything and everyone. She has to leave it all behind and find something new.

Maybe even someone new?

And ultimately, that's why I feel the Timebomb we got was perfect, they shouldn't touch it, they shouldn't try to force it to be "Endgame", not because it couldn't have worked, but because that's the opposite of the story they told.

For the rest of my analysis, lol, this got a bit long but i have FEELINGS.

Now, I'm not saying I wouldn't buy Jinx and Ekko as a love story if they had actually told that love story. But they didn't. It had no screen time. They have less interactions in S2, maybe even in both seasons added up, than Vi and Loris. Let that sink in a bit.

We know it's Amanda's favorite ship, so she may have intended more, and may even actually give us all more at some point, but please, dear god, let's stop pretending they fucked or kissed or even held hands offscreen.

That's honestly a bit insulting to both of these characters, to insist hell or high water that this very important milestone in their relationship happened, but they just didn't even bother to depict it. That an entire love story (because it would be a whole one, remember, Ekko and Powder had a romance but Jinx did not experience any of that, she and Ekko are back at Square One) would just be cut for time.

They both deserve better than that.

Let's stop pretending there was some grand, horny, Forever Love story with 60 minutes of cut footage, all of it timebomb content, somehow left on the cutting room floor of an animated show where every single frame has to be deliberately hand painted.

Because if in some insane universe they had written, storyboarded, voice acted and animated an entire 60 minute additional timebomb storyline and then cut it from the show, that would itself be a searing indictment of the quality of the storytelling in that imagined arc, but that's not what happened. Anyone who knows how filmmaking works would shoot this one down, and the showrunners already have, so let's leave it behind.

I know Timebomb blew up hard, and I get it, but what we got on the screen is not confirmation that there is any relationship at all between Ekko and Current Timeline Jinx. If anything, Ekko and Powder's beautiful romance only highlighted the tragic 'never to be' of Ekko and Jinx.

And it's absolutely fine to look at the art book, look at the creator comments, and imagine what could have been. Draw the fan art, write the fanfic, imagine the what-ifs and the fix-its, those are all beautiful and valid expressions and deserve their space.

But don't go insisting it's "the canon" and going after the shippers of other ships for these characters as "not canon" or somehow offensive for existing, especially toward one particular ship that, yes, has been around much longer than timebomb, is uncool.

I think this is mostly people who are New From Arcane, it's Baby's First Ship and they don't know how to share space. The timebomb fans I knew pre-season two didn't do this, at least not often enough for me to notice or care.

But I'll just say to them, if a Timebomb follow up happens and they actually tell a good love story for Ekko and Jinx, I will accept it. Grudgingly, because I think Lux/Jinx is an untold, untapped story full of incredible character dynamics that would complete Jinx's story in ways that as much as I love Ekko, he's too tied to her past, he can't.

But I love Ekko, and I love Jinx, and I will accept it.

But I'll also say to them, if the followup doesn't eventuate, if things take a turn they don't expect, if Jinx's airship is heading for Demacia, maybe they'll have to experience just a taste of what it's been like for Lightcannon fans for ten long years.

And maybe that's healthy. Maybe that's okay. Maybe our endgames don't need to be 'canon' to have value and that's a lesson we should learn.

Maybe there's a new Light on her horizon, and that's okay too. Maybe Ekko won't be alone forever. Don't forget - until Arcane - his story had nothing to do with Jinx, and there was a whole lot of it.

More with the Firelights, maybe bring in the original Lost Children of Zaun from his old stories, his inventions, his parents, all could yet be in his future. Who knows? He might find a way back to AU!Powder - or she might rebuild what they worked on together, and come to him, no matter what butterfly effects that could set in motion...

But if Jinx is heading for a Light on her horizon, maybe Ekko might Explore some of his possibilities. Find a new Spark of connection. Just saying. Jinx isn't his only ship, either 😌

And it is okay for people to move on, and let go. Maybe, for two characters whose themes are letting go of the past, living in the moment, redefining their identities, and moving on, that's what their story should be.

[mcondance]

angel of small death. billy loomis

summary. billy’s finally found a middle ground between his needs, and your reservations. right?

contains. MDNI 18+, dubcon, fingering, unprotected sex (yay!), “just the tip” turns into full-on sex, billy’s being….. billy, creampie (yay! x2), he gets off on your pain (yay! x3), i say “believer” and “gospel” so if borderline blasphemy isn’t your thing then sayonara, title is from the hozier song “angel of small death and the codeine scene” but it is not required listening for this piece (though, if you want to listen, you can)

word count. 2k

— a word from your author: this started out as me just talking about billy telling you “just the tip” as a bridge into fully fucking you. but then it became me going into detail. but it was fun to write, as i enjoy writing dubcon. billy loomis, i’m ready to be taken advantage of <3

☆ ☆

“just the tip, okay?”

you’ve been holding back with him for a while, only really having sex with him of your own volition once or twice, and leaving him to beg the rest of the time.

he won’t tell you, but he likes when you make him beg to fuck you. when you make him lie and cheat, when he has to distract you from his hands pulling your bottoms off and by the time he’s lining up, you’re so worked up he has no choice but to fuck you. he likes having to play his way into your pants, or shorts, or skirt, when “yes” isn’t flowing readily from your lips like it sometimes is.

and, this time, he’s found a compromise.

“just the tip, okay? just a little, so it’ll still feel good for me and you.” me and you, he says, even subconsciously his pleasure comes first. and you. obviously, he knows you like being full of him. you like knowing what he feels like inside you, penetrating and owning the most intimate parts of you. he knows that, even if you try to contain yourself, you think about being under him or on top of him everyday.

“okay,” you nod, eagerly lying back on your pillows and spreading your legs for him. elation is written all over his face as he walks on his knees between your legs, the same smile that made you fall for him months ago spread across his pretty features.

leaning over you and caging you in between his lean arms, he hovers for just a second. leaning up, you finish the kiss, pulling him down with shy hands twisted in the collar of his shirt. he kisses you deep, the kind of kisses that make your brain fuzzy and have your body getting ready to let him in. he lingers on your lips, taking his time and fucking your mind the way only he can.

it’s a surprise you even agreed to the compromise, with the way your mind starts to call back how it feels to have him all the way inside of you.

he parts from your lips, placing a kiss on your jaw, and then the hot skin of your neck. there, he lingers again, remembering the sweet spot he found the last time he got you like this.

when he finds it, your hips buck against him, a little whine leaking from your throat.

“billy,” you murmur.

“yeah?” he gives back, kissing your skin again. you breathe out in response. it’s damning, and so pretty, and it has something between your legs pounding like your heart in your heaving chest. everything he says, everything he does, every look, every touch, is it for you. billy loomis has captivated and trapped you, and the danger you’re in only sets you alight.

moving farther down, he studies your face with just a quick glance, and, despite wanting to, he doesn’t push you on getting your shirt off. he plans for the future, the outcome he knows he’ll get, and decides he’ll like it better if you have your top on.

with his mind made up, he moves back to your face, positioning himself above you. he kisses you again, and that fire inside you burns anew.

one of his hands moves downward as his lips continue moving against yours, kissing you with such force that your heads move up with it. it’s a kiss like you always wanted before you met him, the kinda kiss you only saw in movies. he makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

that hand crests over the band of your shorts, caressing the soft skin of your stomach, right above the butterflies that flutter there. it moves down again, into your shorts and your panties, and you shiver. immediately, his fingers start on your clit, rubbing and circling and fuck, it feels good.

“billy, ah-” you whine, bucking up against his fingers. your head moves off the pillows, and he follows you, breaking the kiss to watch you squirm under him. his gaze is observing, like a predator and his prey, like a mad scientist and his experiment.

wet and ready, it only takes a couple more passes before he can slide his hand down and slip two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. now, your eyes slip shut and you tangle your hands in his collar again, grinding down on his fingers.

“billy,” you sob, crying out for him like a believer.

and like that scientist in his lab, watching his creation form and morph, he watches you. he watches the furrow of your brow and the canting of your hips. you are his creation, the nasty things hidden inside you brought out by a boy with a sweet smile and sweeter words. he could sell a fur coat to an eskimo, a glass of water to a drowning man.

drowning. that’s what you’re doing. and he’s watching on with a smile, the same sickening smile that grows across his face as you get so wet that you can hear his fingers disappearing inside you.

at another whine from you, he hums “yeah,” a damning sound that your eyes roll back to. your body tenses, all systems overloaded and overcrowded by the sensation that he unleashes within you. it's burning inside you, lava swirling in your veins, red and hot and you can't think, you can barely breathe. his presence above you adds to it all.

like always, you're close so quick. billy knows your body from months of only being able to put his fingers in you, and the couple of times you've let him take you all the way. "i'm gonna—," you choke, squeezing your eyes shut tighter as you brace yourself for what you know will knock a couple brain cells loose.

he hums again, and through cracked eyes you see his head tilt to the side. with that, and the way his hand grows a little rougher, you come. it's good for you, like it always is, and it leaves you floating.

but for him, that obstacle is out of his way. now, he can get what he wants.

"you ready?" he asks, soft and quiet.

"yeah," you nod meekly, excited to feel him inside you.

he forgoes any further pretense, pulling his wet hand straight out of your shorts and hooking them in his sweats and boxers just enough to free himself, and you shiver at the sight of his fingers covered in your arousal. that same messy hand hits the middle of your shorts and pulls them and your panties to the side in one swift motion, made easy by how spread your legs are.

he looks up at you as his grabs his cock, nudging your clothes back out of place with his leaking tip. with his eyes locked on you he slips in.

fuck, it’s just like you remember. it’s just like you’ve played over and over again. the blunt, burning pain, the wet slide as he reaches just an inch or two deep inside you, cutting off before he slides in any farther. above you, you can feel those deep brown eyes watching and taking.

a soft breath escapes your lungs, all shuddery and shivery and even though he’s just barely inside you, he feels good. he buries his face in the hot skin of your neck.

he doesn’t take any input from you now. he’s already given in to your wiles in allowing this shy act, and he has no interest in asking you to allow anything else.

“billy,” you call as he starts to move slowly. perhaps the act of casting the crown of himself into you, so shallow, is more lewd than what you’re avoiding. lascivious, maybe, this compromise.

he rocks like this for a bit, taking in the feel of your walls kissing and clenching around the tip of him. fat and thick, he stretches you so perfectly, the searing pain being overtaken by pleasure until that’s all that’s left.

the middle ground is fine, for you, as he rocks in and out of you, groaning lowly.

but for him, it’s not enough. all of you belongs to him, and he wants to feel it. he wants to feel you.

this time, he rocks in a little deeper, opening you up farther for him. “billy. .” you say quietly, distantly aware of his cock pushing deeper than it’s supposed to be. a ragged groan pushes out of his chest in response, something pathetic and needing, like he’s groveling for it.

“billy,” you assert to the blank white ceiling, louder, trying to get him to stop his rocking. but a pang of pleasure shoots up your spine because he’s reached a little deeper this time, and you’re not sure if you want him to stop. this is always how it is with him, so confusing, like your nerves get crossed and the pathways to your brain are blocked by the boy above you.

he doesn’t pay you any mind, rocking father and farther. “ah-,” you breathe, cutting yourself off with a deep breath in as he starts to hit spots he’s only hit a handful of times before. it hurts, a little. the sensation has you squirming and bucking under him as he takes what he wants, forcing himself in and breaking down the barriers you’d set. he groans so prettily. you heat up, somewhat proud to be the source of his pleasure.

it’s rough, and you know it shouldn’t feel this good, but as your bed rocks under you and he fucks his cock deeper and deeper, you don’t know why you even tried to hold back. as he slides deeper, the pain intensifies, but ecstasy soon grasps it and merges with it, the two-sided feeling bringing you to the brink of insanity.

in his mind, billy thanks whoever’s listening as he listens to your sounds rise, listens to whines like you’ve been wounded, those pathetic, layered sounds, the kind he likes to hear from you. they’re the kind that blow his ego up, let him know that the hold he has on you is deep-rooted and ever-growing. he planted a seed of control in you the day you two met, and it’s been his absolute pleasure to water it every day.

finally, he’s as deep inside you as he can be, and he’s outright grinding into you, rolling his lean body down onto you while he looses low groans and grunts and heavy huffs. the discomfort that sits in the bottom of your belly has been relieved, turned into something that hurts in the best way. he feels good, even as your mind reels with the violation. he shouldn’t be doing this, a part of your mind tells you, but your body tells you that it’s fine.

you move with his movements, your body bumping up and down every time he bottoms out inside you. silvery whines fly out of your mouth every time his wiry hips meet yours, the force with which he fucks you tipping your whole being off balance.

it’s good. it’s so good. he’s good, hitting that one spot inside you that has you clawing at his back, your cells scrambling to find something to stabilize them. the sound of his body meeting yours fills the room and it’s heaven, in that moment you feel a new pathway being formed, something in you molds to herald billy loomis’s cock digging in you as gospel.

“shit,” you curse, utterly dumbfounded by pleasure. if billy asked you to give him everything you own right now, you’d say yes and ask if there’s anything else he wants with it. he can sense that in you, that devotion and yearning for him that’s begun to water itself without him having to do anything. you’ve forgotten what this even started out as.

when he moves his hand between the both of you and maneuvers under your clothes to rub hard at your clit, everything in you screams. from your mouth, you sob, your head falls sideways and you grip tight at him, eyes shutting down. he hums harshly. he wants you to come, and he wants you to come now.

and you do, for billy, you’ll come whenever he wants.

he follows soon after, slowing but never stopping his deep strokes.

after a beat of silence, he speaks.

“you okay?”

“yeah, i’m alright.” gratefully, in your voice, he no longer hears that barrier. finally, he’s broken you down.

[captainkirkk]

A quick review: The Goblin Emperor

I binge-read the last of the The Goblin Emperor today and my brain is still buzzing. Everyone knows that I'm a big fan of stories about people in power choosing consistently to be kind, especially when it's hard and it does not benefit them, and this book DELIVERED.

I loved reading about Maia choosing, over and over again, to be compassionate, even though he was miserable and overwhelmed and it would have been easier to be cruel. Maia felt like the purposefully isolated, abused teenager he was, overwhelmed and powerless when he first came to court, but I adore that we saw the slow, hard-won changes that hebrought about: winning allies simply by being kind and honest, making REAL change for the betterment of his people

Maia has only been ruling for a less than a year (I think) but already the world is benefiting from the care of Emperor Edrehasivar the Bridge-Builder (and what a title!!!). All the birthday messages Maia received - not just platitudes but warm gifts from people whose lives he'd changed - made me tear up

And I also really liked all the hurt/comfort scenes with Maia being surprised by being liked and treated nicely, and winning the loyalty and affection of so many just by virtue of being himself :'))

Anyway if you haven't read The Goblin Emperor, you should definitely give it a chance!! Especially if you also read and enjoyed The Hands of the Emperor

[torturedtypewritersdept]

blue eyes + bruises - part two

✯ pairing:

doctor!rafe cameron x fem!reader

✯ summary:

a tragic car accident looks like it'll be the end for you, but dr. cameron is here to make sure that doesn't happen.

✯ warnings:

mature themes, mentions of anxiety, nostalgia, and fear, car accident, death of a spouse (not rafe or y/n), major surgery, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, etc.

✯ a/n:

nothing!! please don't engage if you have a hard time with any of these topics <3 this was origianlly posted on my old blog @/illicitfixations, @/lovelornanonymity back in 2021/2022 and i have rewritten + reshared it here :)

It only took minutes to get you into the operating room, Rafe had made sure of that – doctors on stand by as you were rolled quickly inside. He continued compressions as his colleagues worked around you, attaching a ventilator quickly to your lungs and cords and wires to your chest as your beautiful satin pale blue dress was cut away from your body and its arch nemesis cerulean blue surgical garb was draped over the different sections of your body that you were bleeding from. Rafe darted from the scene, rushing into the scrub room. He washed his hands quickly, but dutifully in his pursuit to get back to you. Jenni, his favorite nurse, helped him into his surgical clothes quickly, sliding his arms through the long blue sleeves and tying the back of it. It was funny, really, the way it resembled the structure of a hospital gown; one in the same with his patients in that way. As he made his way beside you, his gloved hand found its home against your hair and he leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“You hold on for me, sweetheart, okay? I’m going to make it all better. I just need you to fight a little bit.” 

He said softly as he stood back upright and watched Jenni work the portable x-ray machine across you in search of any cracks amidst the shell of your body. 

“What are we looking at Cameron?” 

Dr. Richardson, Rafe’s long time friend and colleague asked as he looked over Jenni’s shoulders at the x-rays on the computer. 

“Extensive bone damage to the left side, specifically the femur, pelvis, and kneecap. She’ll need more than one surgery. I need to stabilize her leg for now. There’s possible soft tissue damage, she’ll need an MRI later to be sure.” 

He replied and Richardson nodded in his direction, understanding that Rafe meant you’d need more treatment if and when they could get you safely out of the woods. 

—

Some time later, Rafe stood over your body – cold, sterile, medical instruments in his hands as he dutifully worked to put your broken bones back together. He had watched on for hours as his colleagues repaired the internal bleeding in your abdomen and your brain. His body still remained canopied in seafoam colored scrubs underneath the blue surgical garb that he was required to wear in the operating room and his feet adorned in the best tennis shoes money could buy. He had a routine for surgery and over the last two years it had become a sort of safe haven for him – it was the only place that he didn’t think about her. The routine – simple in principle – his feet viciously traveling the white floors speckled with dots of gray as he rushed patient after patient in, the dressings, the blood, the practice of the procedures he performed – it all grounded him, down to the very essence of washing the remnants from his body when the performance was over. Wash, rinse, repeat, wash, rinse, repeat – he melodically spoke over himself after every discontinuation of the processes, whether the outcome was good or bad. He whispered reassurances to every person – the same ones he had whispered to you – though he never knew which way it would go. They went into the operating room, never knowing if they’d come out. The routine of it all had saved him, but all of that was washed away, like water under the bridge, as your blood trickled off of his hands. He closed his eyes for a moment and wondered if the outcome would be the same, if after all his efforts, would you end up just like she did. Would he be unable to save you, just like he couldn’t save her? 

“Paddles now! She’s crashing!” 

Dr. Richardson yelled, as he stood across from Rafe who was tending to the fractures you had sustained from the accident. 

“Charge to 350. Clear!” 

The shock sent electricity through your body, making your back arch off of the table, but still you continued to flatline. He did it again, your body responding in the same way – jerking off the table – yet, still, you flatlined and for Rafe it was visceral. The sound of the machine echoing that horrible constant beep, signaling that there was no life connected to it – it gutted him. 

“It may be time to call it, guys.” 

Dr. Richardson muttered in defeat to which Rafe found repulsive. 

“Absolutely not!” 

Rafe’s voice boomed across your body, as he took over. No one seemed to notice the crack in it as he did his best to keep his tears at bay. Dr. Richardson simply stepped aside, he knew your injuries were too bad, there was no way you were going to survive. But, he also knew that Rafe had to feel like he did everything he possibly could. He had to know that history didn’t repeat itself because of him this time. 

“Charge to 400! Clear!” 

Rafe was the one to send the electricity through your body this time and as he waited for your heart to start, the way that he knew it would, the seconds felt like hours and just when he was about to give up — the miniscule beat sent a series of beeps across the screen. 

“There you go, pretty girl. I knew you could do it.” 

He whispered above you, before getting back to his position and continuing his work on your bones, giving Dr. Richardson room to patch up the bleeding of your internal organs. 

-

Rafe stood outside of your hospital room, looking in on you every so often, he was pretending to do his nightly charting at the nurses station and every time he put his pen to the paper something stopped him. You were all he could think about, the way your eyes pleaded for his help in the emergency department, the way you said his name when you asked him if you were going to die, and where in the hell your family must be – didn’t they care? He finished off the chart he was doing and when he opened up the next file folder, your name appeared. Y/N Y/L/N. ‘Pretty name for a pretty girl,’ he thought. He wasn’t distracted as he listed your injuries, described the incident, and signed off on the surgery he had completed. He wasn’t distracted because this was about you. 

“How’s she doing?” 

Rafe looked up from your chart to the voice of his scrub nurse, Jennifer, who had helped operate on you. Everyone in the operating room knew that Rafe had grown attached to you, though, unsure why, he had never met you before, when he looked into your eyes, something was just different. Jenni knew if he didn’t save you he wouldn’t live with himself, he couldn’t live himself. So, she was really asking more for his sake than her own. 

“She’s doing okay, right now. Not out of the woods yet. We’ll know more when she wakes up. Did you find any family?” 

He questioned, never removing his eyes from the document held within the folder that he was writing on. 

“Mother in Georgia, but can’t come up because of ‘business obligations’. Real mom of the year type.”

Jenni said, rolling her eyes. 

“Her daughter could die and she’s worried about business obligations?” 

He asked incredulously. 

“You know the type well, Rafe.” 

He scoffed at the thought of his father doing the exact same thing if it were him who was in this situation. 

“I don’t know, Rafe. Nothing surprises me anymore. So, give me a run down.”

She replied. 

“Broken ribs, torn acl, whiplash, shattered kneecap, broken pelvis, concussion, broken femur, internal bleeding, brain bleed – you name it, she’s got it. We’ve got her in a medically induced coma to give her body some time to repair itself and if she wakes up, we’ll go back in and do more surgery. Truth be told – she’s a fighter, I don't know how she’s survived this long.” 

He said with an exasperated sigh, knowing the inevitable was coming, simply preparing himself for it. Your injuries – they were a lot to heal from and he knew that firsthand.  

“I believe she has Dr. Rafe Cameron to thank for that.” 

She gave him a soft smile and he returned it. 

“You’re a good friend, Jenni and you’re way too kind.” 

He reached out, placing his palm on her shoulder and gave her a pat on her back.

“I mean it, Rafe. They would’ve called time of death if you hadn’t spoken up. You should go in there and sit with her, it won’t hurt anything.” 

She nodded her head toward the door of your room and he shrugged. 

“It’s not really my place.” 

He spoke, but it came out barely audible, almost a whisper. She heard him and she knew what he meant. 

“Maybe not, but she has nobody coming for her and I know you feel connected to her. Don’t try to fight it to protect yourself. If she dies, it’ll hurt and it’ll be sad. But, if she doesn't, do you really want to live with the fact that you could’ve been holding her hand when she woke up? Do you really want her to wake up to no one being there? She’s not Molly, Rafe and I know you better than that.” 

Jenni left Rafe to think about what she had said while she tended to another patient. She came out of the room to find Rafe, evidently making a decision and she watched him from afar as he gingerly entered the threshold of your room, sitting down in the plastic chair next to you. She smiled to herself, knowing that he was in deep, deeper than even he was aware of. 

—

masterlist:

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[earthnashes]

SOOOOOOOO. Arcane season 2, huh? Now that a couple of days have passed for me to marinate I think I'm ready to share my thoughts on the season. This WILL contain spoilers though so if you haven't seen it, I highly recommend watching for yourself first!

So! Overall, as a standalone season I feel like there are things Arcane excelled at and things that have lost its way a bit. For starters and easily the best part of the show: it's visuals. I've heard some complaints about how much the show cost but like. Brother. When I think of super expensive shows, THIS is what I think it should look like. At no point did I question the budget because it's made abundantly clear every penny is used to best use it could possibly get. And it resulted in what I've been calling a modern greek statue: a marvel, an incredible tapestry of just about every art medium you can think of woven into something so beyond anything I've seen in animation I have a hard time finding the appropriate words to express exactly how much I'm taken by it. This is a clear example of what art IS man and jesus christ. It's mindblowing. I can't praise the show enough for that, like it's literally the best looking thing I've ever seen in media.

Same with the sound design and music, particularly in the battle scenes. Something about the energy behind the sounds, like the clacking of Vi's gloves as shes revving up for a punch, or the reverb of metal clashing, the sound of how blows connect. Even the little things, like the distinct difference between footsteps, or the glitch-like sound that spiders in the backround before shimmer or the arcane is utilized? Like CHEF'S KISS BRO. God almighty it tickles a part in my head.

Just the visuals and sound design is fuckin tasty bro. A solid 1000000000/10

So now Characters. Season 2 managed to take the existing characters and really built off of what was already there. In my opinion the characters, particularly the main players, received additional depth and evolution in a way that made sense in the long run, and the conclusions they reached in their arcs felt like a correct conclusion. However, it's how they got there and how fast they get there being one of my complaints.

For starters: the love triangle between Jinx, Vi, and Caitlyn. I didn't appreciate how, for the most part, it felt like it took a backseat in this season when it was one of the driving forces of season 1. It's not JUST them though: the relationships of every character kinda fell away to the wayside for the sake of getting through as much of the plot as possible, but we're on these three right now so:

-I feel like a PROPER recouncil between Vi and Jinx was sorely needed. There were hints to it, particularly in Act 2, but we were kinda left guessing and having to fill the majority of the gaps ourselves. One of Vi's driving factors as a character is her relationship with Jinx/Powder; her unable to accept that she's changed in her absence. Act 2 opened the door in allowing Vi to learn about Jinx as she is and come to terms that, even if she's changed, she's still her sister and there's a chance to bridge that gap. Vice versa to Jinx, particularly because of Isha's presence; I have to assume by becoming an older sister herself, she begins to get an understanding of Vi she previously lacked and that really could've been a stronger catalyst in her recounciling with her. Had the sisters actually got more on-screen time together and really let the hope between them breath, I feel like the ending would've had a much stronger impact.

-Cait/Vi, as much as I enjoy the pairing, felt a little too disjointed. Act 1 was the strongest showcase of their relationship; a sudden escalation driven by mutual grief and attraction and genuine care only to be torn apart immediately after because of Cait's blind rage. Cinema. Beautiful. But immediately after, we don't really see either character work off that much in my opinion. Vi does have a spiral that was very well shown, though I do wish we saw more of Pit Vi and her descent.

As far as Cait goes I would've preferred seeing her spiraling in her own way; with how the third episode of Act 1 ended, I felt like the show was gearing up to showcase how much she allows her hunt for vengeance cloud her mind and take over her life, to do things her mother would have not approved of. Like bro she was so SURE she wouldn't miss (immediately after missing every shot she took up to that point) that she was willing to potentially kill a child for it. Ain't no way she wasn't constantly frothing at the mouth for some time, wallowing in Vi's apparent "betrayal" and in the grief of her mother's death. I DO like how she is seen questioning her actions but it just feels like a tiny snapshot. Had they continued with showing her questioning what, exactly, the hell she's doing (while continuing to go on with her reign), then seeing not just Vi but also how her actions has widened the rift between Piltover and Zaun, her finally being able to break herself off would've felt more weighty.

"What are you shooting for, young Kiramman?" Grayson once asked. I can't help but feel like that line could have had some very strong carry-through into this season; not only giving a proper callback to Grayson as Cait's mentor(?) but also cement Cait's inner turmoil between blinded by revenge, but growing to dislike what she's turned into to get it.

And the sex scene. Particularly WHERE the sex scene occurred, immediately after Jinx heavily implied offing herself to "break the cycle". Vi isn't stupid. I felt like it was extremely clear what Jinx was alluding to, and it seemed like Vi understood that with how she asked "What are you gonna do?" She sounded terrified and desperate. She has SEEN Jinx be suicidal in this season first hand, was all but directly asked by Jinx to put her out of her misery herself. You're telling me she immediately bones the shit outta Cait right after Jinx scampers off and seems to forget it?? I dunno man. :/ I wouldn't remove the fuckfest, but in my opinion there were better places to put it.

And overall in terms of the characters as a whole, there was just too many gaps and too little time. Vander felt like he was underutilized, particularly his clear fight in trying to get a hold of his humanity; could've really used him to push the running theme of people can change, but they're still the same person at their very core.

Heimerdinger got shafted I feel like. He had such a strong impact in S1, only for his death to be... well. Forgotten.

Mel's storyline was way too fucking short. Love the powers she got but they ultimately felt unearned; I feel like we could've spent way more time on her learning to control it to some extent. Her whole shtick in being cunning and one step ahead of everyone (much like her mother) could've played a stronger part here too, particularly because I don't remember the Black Rose being explained much, so it would've been nice to see Mel put her strengths into play to find out for herself and give her a more active role in her ability to fight back.

Ambessa was anticlimactic and I didn't appreciate how she ultimately perished. I wanted her to die, don't get me wrong, but the war in general felt waaaaay too short and her death too easy. I appreciate they didn't go full evil with her, and made her an embodiment of Singe's quote of "doing horrendous things in the name of love", but it kinda felt like her initial plot of using hextech to fight the Black Rose (I could be wrong here but that is what it felt like she ultimately wanted) kinda got... forgotten?

Victor's progression is the only one that felt mostly natural in it's pacing. But again, with how unstoppable his robot pawns were, I felt like they really robbed the final battle of any significant weight to it; Zaun and Piltover, fighting as one against a common enemy. One of the biggest payoffs in the show... felt underwheming and, again, unearned.

And the new characters didn't really get much chance to do much of anything. Loris felt like an important parallel to Vander given how many times he was shown to look and sorta act like him. I felt like he had a bigger role to fill but just ended up bodied. Maddie, at least, had somethin interesting goin on but I feel like she could've been made more impactful in her betrayal.

Overall, a mid 5/10. It wasn't terrible, but it definitely needed more time to really flesh everything out.

And finally, the plot. I personally really enjoyed the overall plot and it's opposing themes to season 1. Whereas s1 felt like "love is undoing" and veered into tragedy, s2 felt like "love is healing" and veered into hope; the sisters learning to accept one another, Vi and Cait mending the rift between each other, Victor and Jayce finding their way back to one another. Isha giving Jinx purpose and a new perspective on life, Vander returning and, even if briefly, managing to regain his humanity for his daughters, the list goes on. It's such a beautiful contrast to season 1, but that is part of why I strongly feel like Arcane NEEDED one more season.

Season 2 was too focused on getting as much story out as possible that it didn't allow the characters themselves to push it forward, and it was weakened for it. Had there been three seasons, Act 1 and Act 2 could have been the entirety of season 2, and Act 3 could have been the whole of a season 3, where we get to see the total climax of everything that occurred. Given the rumors of there being a strong interest for an animated movie (and I have a theory that it might be to continue the story of Arcane in some way), that might help with some of the contingencies if it's true, but that's only if the movie actually comes to fruition.

As it currently stands, my biggest critique of Season 2 was switching focus on making the plot drive the story, when instead it really should've continued the trend from Season 1 in letting the characters drives the story forward.

_______

My meds is beginning to kick in and I'm getting drowsy from it so I'll leave it here for now! TLDR: Arcane Season 2 was mostly good. I have my fair bit of complaints and thoughts on how I'd personally structure everything, but a a whole, pretty good! It's one of those shows where I would personally recommend everyone watch from start to finish to at least experience it in its entirety yourself.

Season 2 Rating: 7.5/10

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Look at me if you dare

Pairing : Noa x human!reader

Warnings: angsty fluff? Fluffy angst? (you chose!)

Words: 4.3k+ (for real?? 😳)

Requested:

A/N: So! I didn't plan it to be this long but HERE WE ARE. I had to remove the 'getting angry' part but for good reasons, and only if you'd be interested in,: I'm thinking about a part 2 🫣 I need some time to ponder about it, but it is still a possibility! Thank you for your request, I really enjoyed writing it and I hope you'll like it! 😁 (even if it took me forever and I'm so sorry for this 🥺)

Enjoy your reading 😁

Planet of the Apes Masterlist.

Crouching at the river's edge, you watched your reflection ripple with the waves of the peacefully flowing water. You observed the gap between your eyes and the shape of your nose, which marked the boundary between the two. The little dimple formed by your upper lip just below the bridge of your nose and the plump of your lower lip. The thin line they formed, neither a smile nor a sad pout, a straight line free of expression.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

The hunting had been good that day. A stag, one of the biggest bucks in the deer herd. Euphoria had spread throughout the colony when none other than Noa, the leader of the Eagle clan, had returned from a long day's hunting with a few of his own. Anaya and Soona, of course, were part of the group, and you watched the two friends squabble with Noa over who had the best approach to killing the deer. Anaya was certainly trying to take more of the credit, puffing his chest out, but he quickly shook it off when Soona gave him a light punch in the ribs, complaining that he had no right to take full credit for the success of the hunt.

It was, of course, a team effort, and success depended largely on following the instructions given to each individual after agreeing on the best strategy. And this time, the best strategy was Noa's.

You watched them bickering, bragging about their feat, and could only smile at Noa's proud face, knowing full well that he had been the most astute on this hunt. The most astute and therefore the best provider for his clan.

And then his gaze met yours.

The cocky restlessness that radiated from his stance subsided. He glanced at the carcass strapped to his horse's saddle before locking his green irises into yours again and untying the animal, which fell to the ground with a thud.

Noa grabbed the animal by its antlers and began to drag it with one hand behind him, as he made his way towards you.

It seemed you were the only one who didn't quite understand what was happening. Anaya wanted to follow Noa, but it only took one look for Soona to understand and stop Anaya in his tracks. Anaya gave her a quizzical look before his mouth formed an 'O' in realization.

Dragging the animal's carcass seemed effortless, even though it was obvious that Noa was trying to hide the uncomfortable strain he had to exert on his arm muscles. Despite his thick fur, you could easily see the strength he was capable of, his muscles becoming more prominent with the 200kg of inert weight he had to pull behind him. He moved on all four, really only using three of his limbs, and the force of the pull made his shoulders even bulkier. The whole scene was rather impressive, but you had question marks plastered all over your face as Noa drew closer and closer to you.

Earlier in the afternoon, you had sat down by the big communal fire to work on making a spear more suited to your build. You didn't leave the log you were sitting on until the hunt was over. For a brief moment, you thought Noa wasn't really coming to you, but rather dragging the animal to the bonfire to share it with the rest of the colony. You wanted to believe it, because the wrathful looks of some disapproving apes were beginning to weigh heavily on your shoulders and you didn't quite understand what you had done to endure their judgment.

The carcass fell in front of you, and at the same time you heard an ape… Ezio, if you remembered his name correctly, who had taken part in the hunt, utter a muffled growl of… protest?

If you heard it, Noa must have too, but he decided to ignore it, preferring to keep all his attention on you. His stunning green eyes landed in yours and, like every time he gazed into the immense depths of your irises, you were afraid he'd discover a secret you'd been keeping under lock and key ever since you'd discovered it yourself. A secret that drew you irrevocably to him, but which you suppressed and buried deep inside yourself when the eyes of apes like Ezio landed on you.

You chose to avert your gaze towards the dead animal in front of you and prevent him from discovering it. Noa placed his hand firmly on the beast, pushing it further towards you until it touched your feet.

Why… was he bringing you the carcass?

You looked up at him again, and though you tried to give him an unsure smile, the silent question could be read in your eyes as they settled back on Noa.

No matter how much Noa saw you doubting, he couldn't help but feel proud to have brought you such a trophy. He wanted you to see it, to realize the strength it had taken him to kill it, bring it back and drag it to you. He wanted you to see his qualities as a leader, his qualities as a hunter, qualities that made him a perfect mate and that he would be perfectly capable of providing for all your needs… whatever they might be. He'd killed that deer for you, as proof that he was the best match for you. And any doubts you might have had could only be swept away by those 200kg of fresh meat he'd hunted.

At least, that's what he told himself in the back of his mind. That's what he wanted you to acknowledge in him.

In front of his attentive and expectant gaze, you remained unable to understand why he had placed the body of this animal at your feet.

On closer inspection, the stag was of impressive size, and there was no doubt that its remains alone could feed the entire colony. Your eyes followed the animal's shape and you couldn't help imagining its life before it unfortunately crossed the path of Noa and his hunting team. The animal must have been majestic. Its antlers were broad and you could count 14 points. An old creature. From the way its body was laid on the ground, you could only see one of its eyes, and the lifeless black iris squeezed your heart. A wave of empathy for this beautiful animal swept through your body and you instinctively leaned towards its corpse. With tentative fingers, you stroked its shoulder, as if to soothe the soul of the animal that had just given its life to provide for others. Its light-brown bristles were rough against the delicate skin of your fingertips, but it didn't matter, especially as you were certain to feel the gazes of the entire colony scanning your every move. Some approving. Others tolerant. And the last, disapproving.

You tried to push away the burning sensation in the back of your head caused by all those eyes on you, and uttered in a whisper addressed only to that deer, and perhaps, to Noa too, a heartfelt "thank you" for this animal's sacrifice.

Noa tilted his head towards you, seeking your gaze as he tentatively brushed your fingertips to capture your attention. A cloud of tingling ran up your fingers, from your hand to the hollow of your collarbone, creating a mass of tingles there that spread down your spine.

"He fought well."

Noa's gruff voice was meant to be reassuring. He understood your sympathy for the deer and wanted to be sure to let you know the animal had given everything to survive, but that Noa had been the strongest of the two.

You nodded silently and quickly wiped away a tear you hadn't felt rolling down your cheek. You took a deep breath, sharing a glance with Noa.

"Now it can rest." You say. " It'll serve us well."

Noa breathed through his nose proudly at your approval. It was all he needed, all he asked of you, and he grabbed the deer's antlers again to take it away in preparation for dinner.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You ran your tongue over your teeth, and if you weren't showing them off to the little fish that passed by, oblivious to the giant you were compared to them, you made a mental note of the shape of each of them. Smooth, not particularly sharp, and even the teeth you used as canines weren't particularly well-suited to forcefully shredding any fish or animal flesh.

Not… suitable.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

That evening, Soona joined you for dinner. Sitting cross-legged, you had set a bowl of vegetables and fruit in front of you, and on a thick piece of cloth was a piece of meat from the deer that Noa had brought you earlier.

Crouching beside you, Soona was biting into the animal flesh, and you admired the ease with which she was able to detach the raw meat and chew it as she would on the juicy flesh of an apple. Your meat, on the other hand, was cooked.

Soona glanced at the sharp little blade lying delicately next to your meat. Even though she was used to seeing you use it to cut small pieces of meat or fish, there was still a kind of fascination in her eyes. The Echos jaws weren't as powerful and efficient as those of chimpanzees, and while she didn't think they were very practical for everyday life, she was fascinated by your ability to find tricks to make life easier.

Her gaze was always benevolent, and you were never afraid to show her all the human tips and tricks that enabled you to navigate your daily life without too much trouble. Even in the troubles your three friends sometimes got you into.

Something as simple as biting into a piece of meat became a challenge, in all proportion, for a human, and this was quite fascinating for Soona.

But tonight, there was a glitch. Like a feeling of discomfort towards this piece of meat. Normally, you would have started by eating meat, or fish depending on the day. Meat, then vegetables, then fruit. A very specific order that you followed at every meal, even if Soona didn't understand the point of always having to "start with what's salty and finish with what's sweet", as you'd explained to her when she'd asked you. "I prefer to have a sweet taste in my mouth as a last bite." Soona hadn't had the heart to argue otherwise, if that was what you preferred then so be it.

And tonight, you had left your meat aside.

How odd.

Soona briefly moved her hand to show you your meat before signing.

" Not eating?"

Your eyes fell on the untouched meat. Usually, you would have taken the time to cut it up before starting your meal. But not this time. The blade you had taken out of your satchel after cooking the food over a fire had drawn more than a few questioning looks, some almost suspicious.

How long had people been watching you like this? Had it been a long time? And if so, how had you managed not to notice before?

Maybe you'd been blinded by the kindness and acceptance that Noa, Soona, Anaya and even Dar - who more than once had left you stunned by Noa's mother's tenderness towards you - had granted you. Your human condition had never been called into question, and although it had taken several weeks - months for some - for your presence among the clan to become as natural as taking a breath, you had never felt… rejected.

So why now? Why were you suddenly aware that maybe… your mere presence was perceived as that of a virus that needed to be contained. Like an underlying disease that had taken several months to blossom into its first symptoms.

Ezio and his gang of three other apes were stationed right in front of you, on the other side of the communal fire. The contemptuous look they gave you knotted like ropes around your wrists and you found yourself unable to move them to grab your blade and cut your meat.

You didn't know what to say to Soona because you really weren't eating your meat. Not because you didn't like it, nor because you weren't hungry, but because the judgment weighing on your shoulders blocked any will to move a muscle in the pit of your stomach.

Your gaze stopped for half a second on Ezio, who took advantage of your brief attention to challenge you, a small huff piercing through his muzzle, letting his cheeks formed a light puff.

You chose not to dwell on it and focused instead on Soona, who was looking at you with concern. You hesitated over your words before blurting out:

"I… I wouldn't want to… wouldn't you feel awkward watching me cut up the meat?"

Your question was genuine, but Soona widened her eyes, astonished by the implication of your sentence. She almost wished she'd laughed at you, because in all the time she'd seen you do it, it was about time you started worrying if that was really how you felt.

"Why would I bother?" She asked back.

And you sighed. Point scored for Soona. Your question made no sense as far as Soona was concerned. Of course she didn't care, and if she had, you were almost convinced she'd have asked you about it by now.

Seeing your defeated face, Soona went on to sign.

"I understand." And she gestured to your jaw. "Weak. Easier in small pieces to chew." She paused for a moment to gauge your reaction, and you seemed to accept her silent words. "I understand." She repeated aloud this time, her voice slightly rocky on the edges. "Anaya understands." She went on, and as if she could read the real reason for your concern in your eyes, she finished by directing her gaze towards the clan leader who was sharing his meal with Dar. "Noa… understands."

But Ezio and his friends didn't understand.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Your hand plunged into the river, shattering your reflection, which had suddenly seemed too hard to look at. You didn't like what you saw. The water seeped through your fingers and its coolness slid under your skin in a vain attempt to bring some sanity back to your brain.

The delicate nature of your skin suddenly jumped out at you. Your hand bore various scars, large ones from sharp stones, small ones from bramble thorns, scratches from tree bark…

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You'd looked for it everywhere.

Earlier in the morning, you had wished to go outside the village boundaries in search of a particular plant. It was about to be that time of the month when your period pains would start, and valerian, a plant with small white flowers, could help ease those painful cramps.

Soona would usually accompany you, but today she was busy with Dar. So you decided to go alone, but to your surprise, Noa refused. He argued that it was too dangerous for you to venture outside the territory of the eagle clan, almost forgetting that you had been living outside its boundaries for several months.

After extensive negotiation, he gave you permission to go, on one condition: that you take your spear with you and that Eagle Sun go with you.

But the spear you usually left at the entrance to your hut had disappeared. After spending an hour looking for it, Eagle Sun became restless and an unfamiliar ape, whom you'd seen hanging around with Ezio, informed you that he'd seen a spear… in a tree.

So you ended up right there, and the longer you stared at the top of the tree, the more you felt dizziness creep into the back of your skull.

Your spear was probably 8 meters, maybe 9, above your head. The ape who had shown you the way had pretended to have urgent business to attend to, and left you to ponder how you were going to climb a tree whose first branches were 3 meters above the ground.

After a minute's thought, you decided that with a sufficiently high first support, you'd certainly be able to pull yourself up onto the first branches and climb to your spear. There was only one effective way to do this: a horse.

Surprisingly enough, it had worked. It had worked so well that it had angered Ezio, who had been watching the whole scene in the hope that you'd end up making a fool of yourself and proving that you had no place among the eagle clan.

A split second was all it took. You had begun climbing down, having previously dropped your spear to the ground, when a sudden jolt made you lose your balance. The branch your foot was aiming for slipped away, and your hands suddenly clutched the trunk in a vain attempt to hold on to your body, which you felt falling like a mass toward the ground. The bark burned your skin and cut into its surface as you tried to slow your fall and, fortunately, your feet hit another branch before your body finally hit the ground with an impact you could only imagine would cause severe pain.

Okay, 5 good minutes.

Your forehead pressed against the rough trunk, trying to calm your suffocating breathing. You felt as if your heart was threatening to burst out of your ribcage, its beats hitting your ribs so hard. Your trembling hands, still clasped around the trunk, curled in on themselves, leaving only the bottom of your palm touching the bark that had bruised them.

You didn't want to make a move. You closed your eyes, unable to bear the sight of the ground a few meters below you. You didn't want to move, and anyway, even if you wanted to, the pain radiating from the inside of your hands prevented you from gripping anything. You didn't even dare examine your hands, for fear that the mere act of bringing them towards you would cause you to lose your balance again and end up on the floor.

And even when your name rolled off Noa's lips, you didn't react. You tried to breathe deeply, trying to calm the heart that had started a race faster than it could keep up with, but you couldn't get rid of the fear that had gripped your insides the moment you fell.

Fear. You felt it keenly now. It ran through your veins and forced you to hug the trunk as tightly as you could, undeniably tightening your legs around the branch you'd suddenly found yourself sitting on. It was fear, too, that made you jump when a large hand came to rest gently on your shoulder.

Noa.

Unlike you, he had climbed with incredible speed and fluidity. His build was made for it. His hands, his feet, all his muscles - everything was designed to enable him to pull himself up any structure without difficulty.

He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, urging you to look at him, but you stubbornly kept your eyes closed, your forehead almost wishing it could sink deeper into the bark which would most likely leave a mark on your skin.

A soft hoot escaped his mouth, hoping that this time you'd turn your head towards him, but fear gnawed at your stomach too much to dare move a muscle.

And yet, you had to.

You wanted to rage at yourself for your inability to move, for your stupidity in climbing that tree, for your stupidity in not being smarter and realizing that your body wasn't made for such a feat. For not having enough strength or balance or dexterity. But your trail of destructive thoughts ended when you felt the knuckles of Noa's fingers brush gently against your cheek, carefully beckoning for your attention.

His thicker, rougher skin turned out to be much more tender than it first appeared, and your eyelids fluttered at his touch before opening fully, allowing your eyes to look at him.

His cheeks puffed up slightly letting out a gust of air, twice as content that he'd got what he wanted and that you'd accepted his touch. How about thrice as content when his scent, faint as it was, had just mingled with yours in the exact spot where his knuckles had landed.

His hand clung to the tree trunk again, and your skin felt quite cold all of a sudden as it lost his touch.

"Come." His low voice danced in your eardrums.

He locked eyes with you and promptly adjusted his posture to match with where you stood, making it easier for you to slide onto his back. And if fear had made you reluctant to leave your pitiful safety on that branch, it was quickly swept away when Noa gently grabbed your wrist and wrapped your right arm around his neck.

The sudden proximity of your face to his enclosed you in a protective bubble that belonged only to the two of you. You couldn't remember ever having seen him look at you in such a warm, loving way, and the softness of his green eyes felt like a barely perceptible touch, only leaving you longing for more. A brief floating moment in which you were both ready to lose yourself as his fur tingled the skin of your bare forearm, and you almost thanked it for keeping your feet on the ground.

What could he possibly see through you to look at you in this way?

When you took the time to look at him, you saw strength, benevolence and an insatiable desire to meet the needs and expectations of his clan; you saw reliability, commitment and, more than anything else, safety. He didn't have to do much to make all these things shine through in his features. Through it all, Noa was radiant to your eyes. And you were easily swept away in languid admiration if you weren't careful.

And then there was you. Unable to climb a tree. So what did he see within you?

You left the safe mental bubble in which you'd both found yourselves entangled inside to finally hoist yourself fully onto his back, wrapping your legs around his slimmer waist and your arms around his powerful shoulders.

In less time than it took to say it, you were back on solid ground for an inspection of your wounds.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

You hadn't been here very long, but you could already feel your thigh muscles screaming with discomfort, in this position so unnatural to you.

Not wanting to fight the tugging sensation, you let yourself fall on your bum, choosing a cross-legged position, more comfortable and less demanding for your… weak muscles.

The water clung to the fabric of your pants with little splashes, gradually flooding the inside of your shoes in the process. Although the coolness sent shivers down your spine, it didn't stop you from contemplating your body's constitution with a certain contempt.

An unsuitable jaw. Delicate skin. Weak muscles. It was an inevitable conclusion shared by many.

You could see them now. Those stares.

Those stares that said "weird".

Those stares that said "weak".

Those stares that said " not belonging ".

And the more you saw yourself in the waves of that river, the more you realized they were right. You didn't belong.

A raindrop slammed into your reflection, just above your cheek, creating a halo of tiny waves that distorted the features of your face. Then another raindrop clattered with a silent " splash ", and yet another, until it blurred your vision.

It was only when you had wiped the tears from your eyes that you noticed the reflection of a second figure appearing beside yours.

Without bothering to look directly at him, you let out a deep sigh when his shoulder brushed yours as Noa came to crouch beside you. His eyes were glued to your reflection as it danced in the gentle swell.

What did his irises see within your reflection?

You sensed a form of understanding, as if he knew what was going round and round in your head, and in a slight moment of comfort, you felt his shoulder press so lightly against yours that, if you didn't know better, you might have thought it a mere happenstance.

"you belong here." The light touch on your shoulder seemed to tell, and a tear dropped down your cheek again, "Look at me," it seemed to tell him. "I'm looking at you," his careful gaze told you. A second tear joined the first, " Look at me properly." and he huffed through his nose, confident but eventually his eyes acknowledged and conceded to your human condition. Another tear rolled down your skin, clinging for dear life to the tip of your chin before crashing into the water, "you see it now". Noa shifted his eyes away from your reflection, "I see it", putting an end to the silent talk.

His reflection disappeared from the surface of the water, leaving only a sensation of emptiness as his massive body moved from its spot beside you.

Noa glanced back at you, watching you curl into yourself, still sadly obsessed by a reflection he could only find beautiful.

[savannahsdeath]

hii i love ur stories, and i was wondering if you could do a one-shot where ellie won't admit it, but she LOVES being a sub and just listening to you 🫣

SUB!TOP!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! sub!top!ellie, oblivious!reader, making out, a liiiitttleee of thigh reading, js smut

writers note: im a sucker for dom!ellie but my first req was sub!ellie and now it just has a separate place in my brain.. yeah, i need both. switch!ellie lover i guess💪💪 also this ones sub!top!ellie because im soooo in love w her like awshhzhsv

you always saw ellie as the firm, rough and confident one. as the 'don't tell me what to do' one. and definitely the straight-forward one. you wouldn't even think it's the complete otherwise, especially not while grinding on her lap. your lips were connected for a few minutes now, and everytime you pulled away to catch your breath a line of saliva built a bridge between you. you were needy, ellie desperate and the whole situation really messy. quite a combo.

"ellie..." you whined after freeing your tongue.

she pulled you back into her, holding onto the back of your neck. "what is it, doll?"

"mhh-" a week sound escaped your mouth, as you struggled to calm down and not act as if you just ran a marathon (because you didn't, of course, but that's how you felt). "touch me..."

you didn't realize she kept her hands only on your head because she was shy. you never thought she could be shy at all. your request, though, awakened something in her. she hungrily slid her slim fingers beneath your shirt, where they rubbed soothing shapes into your skin.

"like that?" she laughed, or at least you guessed she did, because the sensations made it hard for you to tell.

your answer was a one word, but a keyword. "more."

with that, her hands unfastened your bra and threw it somewhere on the ground. she turned you around, making you lean your back on her chest. your shirt covered the scene - her playing with your hard nipples, that didn't feel so sensitive until now. her hair fell on your face, slightly covering it, as she bowed her head to kiss your neck. your pussy sent a needy impulse through the rest of your body, signaling you this is what you needed, before the pulsating changed it's message to a 'not enough'. ellie seemed to notice it, and one of her hands untied the knot of your cute pyjama-shorts. the elastic at your hips widened to make room for her hand, and it carefully slipped underneath the waistband, though stayed on top of your underwear. she followed the wet path with her middle finger, arriving to it's source. she didn't put any pressure onto your body, leaving you unsatisfied.

"please- please, do it." you nodded, fighting the urge to press her hand towards you.

she was more than happy to do it, her hand avoiding now also your panties and making contact with your bare body. you shuddered at the coldness she brought with her, but things quickly got heated.

your head found support in her shoulder, resting on it, as her pointing finger rubbed your clit and the next two lazily waited at your entrance, collecting everything that came out of it.

"do you want me to do it?" she asked. it wasn't the taunting, teasing, playful tone. it was a concerned, shy and hesitating one. one you weren't used to hear from her.

you frowned, wiping your wet, drooled mouth with the palm of your hand. "are you... really asking me that?" you wanted to add '...or am i dreaming?' but that was too much for you now, and your throat refused to work.

"i only want to do things you want me to do." she whispered, sounding almost ashamed about admitting that.

she continued the trail of sappy little kissed on your neck, somewhere where the vocal cords are, and you thought that's the main reason they're not working.

you couldn't hide your surprise but stayed quiet, though not really by choice. she thanked god you couldn't feel her own wet spot, which was probably bigger than yours and still growing each time you asked her to do something for you. even if your commands weren't out of your dominance, even if you had no idea how they turn her on, she only waited for you to ask for more, or less, anything would satisfy her, as long as she can satisfy you.

[netflix]

Spotlight: Adam Stockhausen

Production Designer, The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar

Oscar winning production designer Adam Stockhausen (not pictured above, that’s Benedict Cumberbatch), whose work you may know from Wes Anderson films like The Grand Budapest Hotel, Asteroid City, The French Dispatch, Isle of Dogs, and Moonrise Kingdom, as well as titles like Bridge of Spies, and West Side Story (2021), took the time to answer some questions.

Which details from or aspects of The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar did you focus the most on while adapting it to the screen? How did you meld Roald Dahl and Wes’s worlds?

The details on this one started with Dahl’s writing hut! We matched the details pretty carefully and exactly. As soon as we step outside of the hut though we start to move through the world of the story and the world of the stage at the same time. Wes had the idea of how he wanted to do this from the very beginning. My main challenge was trying to figure out how to pull it off—making the parts move and getting each to have the right detail.

What’s a small change you made on a project that ended up having an unexpectedly significant impact? 

Lots of times this happens—where what seems like a small thing at the time becomes a very significant turning point. I’m in Berlin now writing this and remembering being here scouting for East Berlin for Bridge of Spies. We were struggling to find a section of town that still felt old enough to show the early 60s, and decided to take a chance on a quick search in Poland. That quick search changed the whole production plan and ultimately gave us the look of our East Berlin.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work? 

Technology has definitely changed the way we plan the work. We used to model everything in cardboard or sometimes just plan in two dimensions with pencil and paper. We can now plan in 3-dimensional space using modeling programs and see what real lenses will do.  This allows for more accurate planning and makes scenery moves like the casino set in Henry Sugar possible.

Do you have any signature easter eggs you like to leave? Any small details that you are particularly fond of? 

I wouldn’t say there are easter eggs in this one. But there are loads of special details! I think my favorite might be the levitation boxes where we painted a perspective view of the background onto a prop box. The actor sitting on the box appears to be floating in a very special and theatrical way.

Did you talk about reflecting the iconic Quentin Blake illustrations in production design? How would you go about doing that? 

Not really. They are such incredible drawings and I’d say they’ve been inspiring me since I saw them as a child! But for this the starting point was really the machine Wes devised to move us through the story—and pairing that to specific references scene by scene.

There is such an intentionality to the aesthetics of a Wes world. Is there a set or frame that took you a long time to get perfectly right? 

All of them! It’s a very labor-intensive process getting these frames right. Occasionally one will click right away, but usually it’s a process of refining and refining. The jungle for instance went from sketches to models to samples and back again several times before the final look settled.

If you had to present one frame that showcases the best of your work, what would it be? 

Oh my. Maybe the jungle? I really enjoyed making the jungle!

With all the moving sets in the trailer for The Wonderful Story Henry Sugar, it feels reminiscent of a theatre production. Are there distinct differences in approach between film and theatre and how much do you blur the lines between them in your work? 

I think the lines are blurred completely! Or maybe they aren’t even there. I love that Henry Sugar is so incredibly theatrical in its storytelling.  It allows us to show the artifice of the sets all the time which somehow makes them even more satisfying when they finally do line up and create a complete picture. I think the casino set is a perfect example—the pauses where it all lines up for a second are even more enjoyable because we get to see it broken apart and sliding away.

Thanks, Adam!

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

IX. I'm the well they're gonna drag you down.

parts: previously / next plot: and they were rooommates. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, mentions of blood and stitches and drugs and alcohol, this chapter is fluffier because reader deserves a break, reader and bruce discussing their one-night stands, bruce thinks he's funny but he just can't hide how much he likes you okay, jealousy thy name is "disturbed". words: 6.9k. a/n: shoutout to allnurses.com contributing to at least 8 hours of research on how medications are stored in hospitals for one scene. any nurses in chat please do not stone me, I took creative liberties. also, in case there is any confusion, this chapter and the vignette take place all in (mostly) the same day.

The car gets about halfway down the street before Bruce observes out loud, "Something's bothering you."

You're clean and changed, but your hands are shoved between your thighs as you try to control their shake. Knowing what you know now, you have no reason to keep this from him. He is, by all means, the one person you should tell.

But you struggle to work up the courage without a mask looking back at you. The character of Batman you'd created in your head clashes violently with the character of Bruce. You'd written your own Jekyll and Hyde and tripped yourself up in the final act when it turned out they were one and the same, "You have a lot on your plate right now."

"So do you."

You resist the urge to grit your teeth, "It's about Judith."

Bruce thinks for a moment, "The old lady who doesn't like me."

"The very same. I... wasn't there for her last night, when I should have been. She was mugged on her way home."

Bruce doesn't make a big show of a reaction, though you notice he sits straighter, taking a break from gazing out of the window to glance at you every once in a while, "Is she badly hurt?"

"It could've been worse but... she's more shaken up than she wants me to believe."

"And her family?"

"Murdered." Bruce's car rolls by a street corner where a young mother wrangles her child back from the crosswalk, "I tried to convince her to have one of the deacons from church ride home with her from now on but she wouldn't listen. She doesn't want to be babied." Her stubbornness isn't at all unfamiliar.

"Did she see who did it?"

"She said some guys at the liquor store down the way. They hang out there every night," your eyes trail from the window down to the floor before finding Bruce's face. His profile is sharp and clean, the dark neck of his sweater stops just before the hair at his nape begins to cluster. Your eyes follow the bridge of his nose and it mirrors Batman's profile, a mix of pointed and blunt edges, "There's a... an heirloom in her purse. A lighter. She keeps it with her all the time. Her husband had it on him when he... well, he had an awful habit. She'd really like it back."

Bruce turns his head to you and you steel yourself. In the bright early morning, he is annoyingly resplendent. In the unfair way that all pretty people tended to be. It feels wrong to be asking him this. This is a stranger. You're begging for help from a stranger. You force down the sickness rising in your belly, "Please, will you-"

"I'll take care of it." He answers and it is final. He seemed to have made up his mind before you'd even asked.

The resolve in him is enough to slow your shake to nothing. There's a part of you that still doesn't quite believe what you'd seen last night, and so the certainty of Judith's well-being does not deluge you. It trickles down, dripping over your eyelashes, sprinkling off your fingertips.

You let yourself get caught up in his eyes the way you used to. You let the familiarity of them ground you and, though not with a sweeping acceptance, sigh in relief.

It's a small win in the grand scheme of steaming hot bullshit going on in your life.

You’ve taken things from General for Bruce’s sake before. Bandages and needles and disinfectants. This, however… this was a schedule II drug that could land you in prison if you got caught with it. And you were going to walk out of here with it like you were none the wiser.

A hand on your elbow forces you to slow down, drawing you back to your companion’s side. You don’t need to hear it so he doesn’t say it, but you’re embarrassed anyway. How Bruce maintains himself is enviable. “You’re a good actor.” Bruce peeks at you as you guide him through the first floor, “The thing with Gordon. You took it on the chin like a champ. You turned into a whole new person.”

“I avoid implicating myself when I can.”

“The party too. You diffused the tension, like, perfectly.”

Bruce hovers beside you as you call the elevator, a few patients and nurses lingering further behind. You can feel him probing your words for your natural line of thinking, “Couldn’t pull one over on you, though.”

No, you think, you just creeped me out while every bat-shaped clue flew right under my nose.

The elevator door slides open and the two of you squeeze into the back as the rest file in. You find yourself in a corner, braced against Bruce’s side as his hand reaches around your back to hold the railing. One of the nurses catches sight of him and swoons, the other trying (and failing) to look uninterested.

“Coming to see the new wing?” The swooning nurse asks, turning around to grin at Bruce. “Sounds like it’s coming along great. They make lots of helpful noise all day long.”

Bruce laughs good-naturedly, “Hopefully it’ll make up for all the trouble once it’s finished.”

The “uninterested” nurse nods, eyes frantically flashing from Bruce’s eyes to the floor and back over and over, “For sure! It’s really great you give back to General like this. Your dad would be proud.”

His face has no distinct reaction to it, nothing immediately telling that that comment hit too close to home. He smiles as he always does and thanks them as he always should do, and as they get off on the second floor, it’s just you two and an old man waiting for the next stop.

Bruce, to you, had long lived in his father’s shadow. The great Thomas Wayne who, despite his briefly smeared reputation, had been the face of the Wayne family for you. Even the some-twenty years after his passing had yet to shake that image from your brain.

It was his father’s legacy he was tending to here. All of the good and ugly that came with it. You couldn’t imagine how many times he’d heard his father would be proud. Did it comfort him? Frustrate him? Did he do this to make his father proud, or because it was expected of him?

Before the flood, you’d heard gossip about Wayne Enterprises going under, the reclusive in the tower giving no sign if he was alive or dead. Knowing what you know now, you wonder how much he truly wants to be a Wayne… with all the baggage that comes with it.

He’s wound tight. You can feel him against you.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you find his hand on the railing beside you and cover It with your own. He’s shocked, judging by the way he jolts under your touch for a second. You think you’ve overstepped but when you go to apologize, he is already staring wide-eyed at you. Like when you’d caught him on the stairs.

The tension is still there, and his face has fallen in its warmth and friendliness. His hand had only partially slipped out from underneath yours, but as the seconds pass you feel it rest once more, not bothering to shake you away any further.

You both force yourselves to stare ahead until the elevator dings to let you out, but through the reflection on the door, Bruce is still looking at you.

You break first, distracting you both this time as you walk out, “You kept hitting me with your knee.”

Bruce, in a daze, asks, “What?”

“At the party. While me and Roberts were arguing, you’d nudge me with your knee like it was an accident.”

Bruce seems to remember who he is and where you are, because he quickly gets back to himself, “Guess I’m not that good of an actor.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I knew where the conversation was going. I could feel you thinking.”

You remembered holding your breath as the mayor prepared herself for confrontation back then, “And the second time?”

“I was trying not to laugh.”

You flush. You’d been so impassioned that night, defending your hero who, unbeknownst to you at the time, was hiding a snicker behind his glass. You feared you’d be remembering a lot of moments like that over the next few days.

As soon as you both get into your office, you shut the door behind you, “I need you to wait here for me.” Bruce’s face tightens, “Don’t… argue. They keep extra vials of the antivenom down in the ER. I can grab one from the med room, but I can’t have you following me down there. It’s off limits for anyone without ID, let alone a patient and a donor.”

Bruce doesn’t look comfortable. Since last night, you hadn’t been anywhere Bruce or your police detail couldn’t follow. You hadn’t even been allowed to enter your apartment until the latter had deemed the place safe. A med room not much bigger than your office—locked behind an ID scanner—posed less of a threat than your two-bedroom ten minutes away.

But it was two stories down, and anything could happen in the time you were away from Bruce.

You can see the wheels turning in his head, trying to think up some plan that allowed him to remain by your side. You have to restrain yourself from feeling… flattered.

Flattery turns to bewilderment as Bruce reaches into his pocket and drops something into your hand. It’s a gadget the size of an AirPods case, shining in the light of the fluorescents. It looked perfectly unassuming and hid—lightweight as it was—a marvel of expensive technology. You could tell just by looking at it. “The hell is this?”

“It’s an EMP generator. Put it in your pocket and I can disable any communications within your vicinity, including cameras.”

“Okay, no. This is a hospital, and I’d be going into the ER with this thing. That’s too dangerous.”

Bruce looks offended. You can practically hear him say “You don’t think I’ve thought of that?” with his eyes. He silently holds his phone up to your face and you shouldn’t be as shocked as you are that it’s got live camera feed of the entire hospital. “I can control the radius. You said you trust me. So trust me.”

You swallow back your retort. You did say you were going to trust him on this. Whether or not it would be your doom had yet to be seen. You nod once, dropping the device in your pocket. “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”

Bruce’s lips purse together. He still doesn’t look settled with letting you go alone, but he has very little room to argue, “Ten minutes.”

You don’t waste time. You skip the elevator for the emergency stairwell, taking two steps at a time until you’re back on the first floor and walking to the ER. The med room at the very end of the hall would—if you were lucky—be as empty as the waiting room. All you needed to do was get in, grab what you needed and very quickly get the hell out of there. Without raising suspicion. You can feel the phantom pull of Bruce’s hand on your arm, begging you to slow down before you draw unwanted attention.

You round the corner to the med room, scan your ID, and head in.

The two nurses waiting inside greet you, analyzing you curiously, “Hey doc, need something?”

Words rattle in your brain like a d20 on a deception roll. You pray for something good, “I just wanted to grab some meds for my patient.”

One nurse sits at a computer, head titled in confusion, “Did you put in a prescription? You could’ve sent a nurse to grab it for you.”

Your eye catches the camera on the ceiling, its dark glass glinting at you, mocking you. A scrying glass recording your every move. And Bruce on the other side of it, hopefully buying you an alibi. “It’s a… special case. My patient needs it soon, so I thought I’d speed up the process and grab it myself.” You force a lightness into your tone, trying your best to appear apologetic and not at all suspicious.

The nurse hums. Then, she jabs the pen she’d holding over her shoulder, “Cart’s over there. Help yourself.”

You maneuver through the shelves separating either half of the room, keeping your head straight and eyes from wandering.

Your biggest hurdle was at the back of the room.

It’s a clunky cabinet on wheels with a monitor on top and an ID scanner on the side. In one of its many drawers, your golden ticket awaited, but these things kept logs of who checked out what, and if someone were to go through them later and find out you’d stolen a highly addictive drug without prescription…

You swallow. The generator in your pocket suddenly hangs heavy against your thigh. You glance at your phone for the time and note that four minutes have passed. You need to move quickly.

You approach the cart, fingers twitching at your sides, and right as you step up to the monitor, it flickers and goes dark. You give the power button a push for good measure but nothing happens.

Well, not nothing. You hear the cart drawers all click at once, like they’d unlocked by themselves. Tentatively, you try the top drawer and it slides out without issue. Glancing behind you, you check to make sure no nurses have wandered over, but you are the only one on this side of the room.

Your fingers drift down to the right drawer next and that one slips open too—by the grace of some god—and there you see it. It has an alien glow to it, a more subdued blue to its adversary’s green. The top of the tray holding the vials pops open with just as much ease as the drawer, allowing you to sneak one into your pocket. You shut the drawers, slowly backing away from the cart, but the monitor does not turn back on.

“What? This thing too?” You’re startled when the nurse from before suddenly jogs up from behind you, grumbling under her breath as she smacks the monitor.

You rush to cover, “It just went kaput on me.”

“Yeah, so did mine.” She maneuvers around the shelves and back to her desk where you see the other nurse at the desk scratching his head. Their monitor is glitching, having some gory digital stroke, “Here. You can sign out what you take for now and I’ll bother IT about this.”

You write down “Ibuprofen” and your name next to it, “Never seen that happen before.”

“Yeah. Thing froze up on me a minute ago. Guessing around the same time this thing died on you.”

Your stomach is still nervously fluttering, but you do feel a little smug. “Weird.” You hand her back the clipboard and go to grab a bottle out of a different drawer. “Good luck.”

You try not to sprint past the nurses as they fuss with the computer. You’re out and back upstairs before your ten minutes are up.

Bruce is sat leisurely on your couch, no doubt watching you scurry into the office on his phone. He looks from the pill bottle in your hand and back to you.

You toss the bottle into his lap, plopping down on the couch beside him. He frowns at the label. “For you,” you poke his injured leg and his eyes follow your every movement, “you’re favoring the other leg today.”

He can’t bring himself to deny that, even if the look he gives you from beneath his eyelashes says otherwise. You flash the antivenom at him as a peace offering. “How’d I look?”

His gaze flutters slowly from the vial to you before he shows you his phone. The screen is a recording of the medication room. It shows you greeting the nurses, walking up to the med cart, and then… nothing. Black screen for forty-five seconds. When it flickers back on, you're signing the clipboard and walking away. Your body sags into the couch with relief.

“You did good.” Bruce praises you.

“I thought I was going to go into cardiac arrest.”

“There are worse places to do it.” You look at him and he’s smiling just a little. You’re aware, though, that he’s aware of the toll this has taken on you. He takes the vial out of your hands and puts it in his own pocket, holding his hand out to you. “We should get going.”

Bruce follows dutifully behind you as you lead him back down to the first floor. You feel much better than when you'd arrived, but your heart stutters each time a security guard passes you by. Years ago, stealing and getting away with it was second nature to you. You were also arrogant back then, uncaring of what happened to you. How quickly the tides had changed.

You feel Bruce nudge you with his arm. He isn't looking at you, but you know what he's trying to tell you: you've got a few more hallways to turn down before the exit. You just have to-

Someone calls your name.

You spin around, nerves electrified, only to find Em running to catch up with you, "What are you doing back at work already? Is your arm okay?"

The adrenaline rush had done wonders for your pain tolerance. You didn't even think about it until she brought it up, "I'm fine, it's fine. It's-" You go to rush out some sort of explanation but at that moment, Bruce turns around.

You can see the moment of impact across Em's face as soon as she realizes who you're with, her back straightening and hand pressing down flyaways. In an instant, she has forgotten all about you. For better or for worse. She rubs her palm on her leg before holding it out to shake his hand, "Mr. Wayne! Hi! I'm surprised to see you here." Her eyes are twinkling, "Everything alright?"

"Just some leg pain, nothing painkiller can't fix." He flashes the pill bottle for good measure. You're honestly impressed he admitted to being in pain at all, "It's good to see you again, Dr. Madison."

Em's face droops into a frown, "Well, you look fantastic, but you've got a mirror," she pats your arm, "and I'm sure you're being well taken care of."

"Only by the best."

You smile (borderline pleadingly), preparing to dismiss yourselves while you still have your wits about you, but then Em asks Bruce a question and, to your surprise, Bruce is happy to entertain her.

It strikes you that you had landed in your situation with no prior interest in who Bruce was, and it shows in how you barely keep up with the topic of conversation.

It's like watching a tennis match between the two. The topic in Em's court, then Bruce's, then Em's, back and forth without issue. No awkward pauses or uncomfortable looks. She recalls details about him out of thin air, your knowledge in comparison merely fringes of what Em knew.

The longer it goes on, the more it weighs on you that aside from the strange man who'd circled around you like a frightened kitten, you really didn't know anything about Bruce.

You knew Batman. You felt you knew him. Even when his identity was still a secret, you had felt comfortable with him. Vulnerable, even. He'd let you touch him in your home, fixing him up and helping you with this mess and... outside of that, what did you really know?

You feel an odd twist in your chest.

Em's voice floats back in, disrupting your retrospection, "I've always wanted to go to Italy. You must get so sick of these places after having been so many times."

"They still have their magic," Bruce grins, "but I don't like being far from home."

"Really? You could go anywhere in the world and you'd still miss Gotham?" Em's tone is teasing, but curious. Something flickers in her eyes as if she'd just remembered something.

Bruce takes in the hallway, chest swelling with pride, "Lots of things to miss about it."

"Name one."

Bruce's eyes cut to the side as he thinks, "The noise."

"You can get noise anywhere. LA, Chicago-"

"It's special here."

"No, try again."

His smile turns sheepish, "The rain."

"Now you're lying. Come on, pretty boy. I know you've got something. Penthouse, nightlife- heck, I'd even understand the freaks and clowns giving everyone PTSD."

Bruce exhales, purses his lips. His eyes flit around the white walls, "Okay. I'd miss you."

What the hell?

You straighten up. The absurdity (blatant sweet-talk) of the line shouldn't work—seriously, it wouldn't work on you—but Em goes pink in the cheeks. A strand of dark hair falls from her bun and frames her smile just so, "Well," she snorts, "aren't you just a flirt?"

To your utter dismay, they are both eating this up. "You light up the room, Dr. Madison. Your patients are very lucky."

"My patients are usually seven and way more interested in the candy I bring them."

"Candy?" Bruce finally looks at you, all humor and charm, "I never get candy. I just get yelled at."

Something in you is disturbed when Em grabs onto Bruce's arm, hanging off him as she pouts at you, "Oh! You're heartless!"

"Very much so." Bruce is somber.

"I don't-" Your voice comes out strained, a little too defensive right off the bat, "I don't yell." But you'd gotten close, and you got closer everyday, "But if I did, you'd deserve it."

Bruce is amused. You watch as he pretends to cower into Em, even as he dwarfs her in size. They start joking back and forth, more teases at your expense, and you notice that the persona he puts on around others is practically nonexistent here. You'd watched it dissolve within minutes. It's refreshing, you realize, that he seems to really be enjoying himself right now.

You catch Bruce insisting that he ought to get going, sharing pleasantries and desires to visit once more. Em looks genuinely saddened to let him go. The second Bruce's back turns, Em reaches out and squeezes your hand, whispering, "Please tell me he's single."

You fluster. You imagine yourself in the car ride back to the tower asking Bruce what he thinks about Em, offering to exchange numbers between them, and you're disturbed again.

Twenty-four hours ago, you would've been warning her to run for the hills. Twenty-four hours ago, he was only Bruce Wayne. Now he was Batman and all that came with it and, well... once upon a time, you would've wanted nothing more than for Bruce Wayne to sweep Em off her feet. Batman had always been more your style.

Then, you realize, you don't actually know the answer to her question.

Em looks expectant. You shrug. She exaggerates her disappointment but releases you all the same, "Keep me posted."

"I'm comparing the samples from the crime scene to the antivenom. I should have something in a few hours." Bruce taps the antivenom vial, watching the remaining blue liquid slosh against the glass, before handing it off to Alfred.

You're mesmerized by this backyard (or, more aptly put, garage) chemistry lab. Beakers and flasks spread out on the long table as you watch from a stool a few feet away, "How'd you get so good at this?"

"College," after a few seconds of silence from you, he adds on begrudgingly, "I started messing around with stuff down here when I was 13."

"You had all this when you were 13?"

"Some of it, whatever I could get my hands on. I liked to see how things worked."

You have a unique opportunity to learn about Bruce here, so you take it with both hands, "You majored in chem, then."

"And biology, and physics."

Your eyes blow wide. "You had three majors?"

"I bounced from one to another, sometimes double majored if I liked the professors. I followed my interests and they took me everywhere," Bruce picks up the venom test tube, little drops of green pooling at the bottom of the glass, "I've enrolled in more universities than I have degrees."

Your eye twitches, just a little annoyed, "Must've been nice going wherever you wanted, whenever you wanted."

Bruce senses your tone of voice. He peers at you from the side, elbows resting on the table, "I spent a lot of time away from home. It must've been enough because I don't miss it."

"You said the same thing to Em earlier." You recall.

"I didn't think about it as much while I was gone, but when I came home for good... I just couldn't imagine myself leaving like that again."

"He barely liked boarding school," Alfred chimes in from the other side of the room, lazily reading a book at Bruce's desk. Boarding school was posh. You imagined little Bruce in a school uniform like the British boys in movies, "I should bring out the scrapbooks once we have a moment."

Bruce sets the test tube back on its rack with a bit of aggression, "Thank you, Alfred. You can go now."

Alfred chortles. He skims one more page of his book and then shoves it under his arm on the way back up. The elevator clinks and rattles up the tower until it stops some sixty stories up.

It's quiet now. You sort of appreciate the silence- the relative silence. There is the steady drip, drip, drip coming from here and there in the cave. The whirring of the machines, the humming of the lights, the very faint sound of a news anchor forecasting snowy skies this weekend. Bruce's breathing.

It's harder to hear unless you focus on it. His mountainous build hunched over the table—staring into the venom as it stares back—rises and falls in slow rhythm. You watch him being and it captivates you. For the umpteenth time since last night, you are struck with the reminder that this was Batman. In all his broody glory, an arm's length away from you, about a hundred feet under the city.

It's funny; you paid so little attention to the man before, and now you wanted to take him apart and examine his terrible insides. You have accidentally become obsessed with the man.

"I want to take you to Blackgate."

"Sorry?"

"Lucien is there," the name makes your blood run cold, "he was with the Vipers the longest. He could answer a few things for us."

You do your best not to immediately say no. Not because you think he'll force you, but because you know—somehow—that he won't, "What about Detective Gordon? Shouldn't that be his job?"

"I think he'll talk to you." Bruce turns slowly until his back is pressed against the desk, arms crossed over his chest and pulling his shirt completely taut. "He knows you."

You hadn't seen Lucien since the night Alex died. For once, you're kind of grateful Bruce can read you. He turns fully toward you, "I can go alone."

"You just said you think he'll talk to me."

"I can make him talk." His head droops a little to meet your eyes, expression impossibly understanding. You have no doubt he can. Your throat feels like it's on the verge of closing up. Somehow, sending Bruce alone to handle him felt worse.

"But you think I can..." You have to pause to force in a breath, feeling yourself go lightheaded, "You think I can get more out of him." Bruce doesn't respond to that. He's still watching you like you might start stress-sobbing. "Okay."

"You sure?"

"Mm."

Bruce calls your name. You'd been tracing the lines of his arms with your eyes to distract yourself, not processing how much closer he'd gotten until you feel his breath against your eyelashes.

His arms are uncrossed now, one hand pressing into the table beside you, the other hovering by his hip. His fingers twitch. Does he want to touch you? You were about to go three for three with the crying in his arms thing.

You force yourself off the stool and the speed at which you stand gives Bruce very little time to react. Your chest bumps against him, but you're already slipping behind him, "Lemme see your stitches," you rasp, hand ghosting over his shoulder, "need to... redress them, probably."

Bruce tries looking over his shoulder at you but you hide behind him and after a moment, he relents. His shoulders drop in defeat. You watch him drag your stool into the light and sit.

The dismal mood did you a favor. He looked like he'd be submissive today.

You're halfway through clearing away his dried blood when you ask, "Are you single?"

Bruce's shoulder jolts just the tiniest bit, almost driving your finger into the stitch. "What?"

"Em asked," you quickly explain, "and I realized I didn't know."

You don't know exactly what he's thinking, but his answer is as straightforward as you could hope for, "Yes."

"Oh."

"You sound surprised."

"I mean... I sort of assumed..." What did you assume, exactly? You couldn't see him with a long term partner, definitely not like this, but the idea that there wasn't anybody didn't sit right with you, "no flings? Situationships, even?"

"Why? Is Dr. Madison interested?"

Your jaw clenches. You force the muscles in your face to relax, "I just don't want any secret lovers of yours adding me to their shitlist if I go through with your plan. I can't stress how little I want to fake-fight over you right now."

Bruce huffs. You finish cleaning around his wound when he pipes up again, "I had something... someone. It didn't last."

"Oh. Are you... tender about it?"

"Not anymore. I don't have time for that kind of thing anyway."

He says it like it doesn't bother him, but in the way someone might brush off a scrape on the knee or a paper cut. Like it stung, but you had to be a big boy about it. The pain would go away eventually.

You press new gauze over the stitches, taping it down as gently as you could, "I assumed someone like you would have a whole lot of someones, a revolving door even," your eyes flit over his other bruises and healed cuts, "I never made time for relationships either. I was kind of just going through the motions."

"No one interested you?" Bruce rolls his shoulders once you peel away from him. He doesn't look at you when he asks that.

"Just... childish crushes here and there. Sometimes I'd let someone take me home..." Your voice catches in your throat for a moment. You recall a stamped down memory, one of you standing blindfolded in your apartment imagining the Batman with his mouth on your throat. That wasn't very long ago. Your breath shudders as you fit Bruce into the memory instead. You don't... know how to feel about it.

"Never back to yours? And here I thought Judith was just hard on me." You belatedly register Bruce standing, rolling his shirt up his arms before pulling the neck over his hair. His question hangs lightheartedly.

Your shoulders sag, "You're not gonna believe me if I tell you I was paranoid about letting one-night stands into my home."

"Why? 'Cause you let me in?"

The back of your neck grows hot. "What about you? You ever bring yours back to the cave?"

After he's done tucking his shirt into his pants, Bruce shakes his head at you, "No. Just you."

That was the second time he'd said that to you. You were starting to feel special.

You step out of the shower and you think, almost as soon as your foot touches heated floors, that you really despise Bruce Wayne.

The towels are warm too, waiting for you as you preen yourself in the mirror, a clean you staring back. You kept your toiletries bag on the bathroom counter, afraid to unpack anything as you rustled around for deodorant. It was massive and quiet. The water pressure alone had you swearing at the marble lining of the shower.

Bruce eventually lured you downstairs with the promise of making dinner. Alfred was skeptical, but had backed off and allowed Bruce full range of the kitchen, still possessed by his book next to the fire.

He'd asked you what you had the stomach for. Eventually he was copying something out of a celebrity recipe book with you beside him.

You argued that he hadn't really made you dinner given that you had helped him do half of everything, but it was his ingredients and it was his kitchen and the food tasted good so you didn't argue long.

After Alfred offered his stamp of approval, he'd retired for the night and left you and Bruce in the kitchen to clean up. Bruce had left the pots and pans to you when you proved too nervous to handle the porcelain, "Alfred won't kill you if it breaks."

"Alfred would kill me for less, I think."

Bruce gives a short laugh, drying off the last pot. He's pouring you a glass of the wine you'd opened last night when you slide his little gadget across the counter, "I forgot to give that back to you." You swirl your glass, admiring the color as Bruce packs away the leftovers. "You looked like you were enjoying yourself with Em earlier."

"I was. Your friend is funny."

"I... also noticed something you said. When she asked you what you would miss about Gotham, you mentioned the noise and the rain. Would you really miss all that?"

Bruce glances at you, popping a top onto a glass bowl, "Of course. It's part of what makes the city."

Your eyes narrow, searching for the lie, but there isn't one. He's being sincere. "Is that why you became Batman? Because you love this city that much?"

You can feel the mood getting doused with ice water. It forces you upright in your chair, makes your hand clench around the stem of your glass. Anyone with eyes could tell you'd just touched a nerve.

But he answers you, intense as it comes out, "I hated it." The loathing is a mere shell of what it used to be, you can tell, "I hated what it took from me." His eyes cast down to the countertop. "At first, I was aimless. Everyone was worried about the future of the company but Alfred and I were just trying to make it through the day. Over the years, I boiled up with this... restlessness. I still didn’t know where I was going but I was full of something for once. I studied, I traveled, I learned from all manner of teacher. And when I came home, I was... determined."

His words sit heavily on you. You can see flecks of that restlessness in his eyes, the slight tremble of his hands as he rests them against the countertop. "Why a bat?" You whisper.

"They're what I feared the most."

Past tense. "Feared?"

"I got over it. I won't let them close enough to bite, but..." The humor in his voice breaks the intensity of his expression.

You mull that over, "You became what you feared to strike fear."

"Not anymore," his head shakes, "fear is a tool, but... there's enough fear in this city. I wasn't making a change, I was making it worse."

You remembered the first time you'd ever heard of the Batman. Back then, he was just "Vengeance". In the grand scheme of fucked up things this city had to offer, someone running around dressed as a bat didn't register as abnormal. Another Tuesday, maybe. You awaited what they'd say about his crimes: a mugger beaten and strung up on the street, a gang felled and dropped at the GCPD's door. You remembered something stirring in you when he put away the Joker.

"I remember when you became a hero. Like really, to everyone. When you took shape… they were flying in people. I was rushing in patients while you stood on top of the Garden and pulled people out of the flood. I hadn’t felt hope like that since… yeah."

Your admission moves something in Bruce. His eyes find yours, "I was just doing what you'd been doing for years."

"But I never left that hospital. You transcend boroughs, the gangs, everything. I used to think you couldn’t possibly be one guy. I still can’t believe it. How are you not dead on your feet by now?" Bruce smiles knowingly at you and you feel yourself flush, "Besides that. You’ve been doing this for longer than I've been around to patch you up."

"That would be Alfred."

"You should tell him, you know. That you appreciate him. I think he'd like to hear how much he means to you more often." Bruce's eyes soften. He doesn't debate you. "Anyway. How's that sedative going?"

"I'll take another look before I leave tonight."

Oh, yeah. This guy is Batman.

You don't know when next you'll get this chance, "Can I ask a favor? Can I... watch you put it on?" Bruce wobbles to the side, genuinely confused. "The suit?"

He examines you, mouth almost curling up into a shocked smile. He hadn't expected you to ask that, that's for sure. "All of it?"

You grip your glass so hard you think it might shatter, "No." And then, when he has the audacity to snicker, "Asshole."

He stays true to your request.

You watch with your back pressed up against the wall. His under suit hangs undone at his hips while he leans over his desk, digging his fingers into a can of black paint. He uses the reflection of his computer screen to smear it over his eyelids and under his eyelashes until the white skin beneath disappears.

Next is zipping up the under suit. You barely resist rushing over to hold his bandage steady as the suit catches on it, but he manages to get it up and over without pulling it off. Then come the plates of armor. Each piece clips into place, clinging to his waist and chest and arms. You've seen it up close enough times to know the quality of it, a wonder how he'd gotten his hands on that kind of stuff until now.

You don't ask him to, but when it's time to put his cowl on, he turns sideways so you can see.

His gloved hand combs through his hair, pushing back the longer strands so he could fit the cowl over it.

It's kind of embarrassing how it takes your breath away. Bruce had quite literally transformed before your eyes, and now there was no denying it.

Bruce stands still as your eyes bore into him.

After a few seconds of admiring every piece of the suit, your eyes flit up to his face. He's not looking at you, almost shy. Apart from Alfred and, perhaps, his someone, Bruce has probably never put on the suit in front of anyone else. Is it weird you missed seeing him shy? "It fits perfectly." Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Of course it does. You know it's dumb to say. Bruce doesn't say that, though.

He waits a beat before turning away from you, his cape sending a breeze of cool air up against your legs. His car awaits on the train tracks, headlights beaming into the near endless darkness as he approaches and you follow.

The car thrums eagerly with life at the push of a button, sending vibrations through the ground, all the way up to the ceiling where you hear a sudden flurry of wings and chirping. Bowing your head close to Bruce, you watch about a hundred bats scurry about above you, disturbed by the sudden rumble of the engine. Bruce holds his cape over your shoulder, though none of the bats fly low enough to concern him. "They don't freak you out a little bit?"

"They haven't bothered me."

"Well, when you dress like them I guess they get confused."

"I'll be back before sunrise," Bruce promises, "and I'll look into Judith for you. Maybe you should... call first."

You're tickled by the discomfort he's so desperately trying to hide, "Scared of a little old lady?"

He pointedly ignores you. You step back as he throws open the door and settles into his car, but before he can pull off into the darkness, you shout his name to get his attention over the roaring engine, "Hey! Be safe."

Bruce looks at you and... you don't know what he's thinking, only that the muscles in his jaw relax a bit. Was he used to that? Did Alfred often stand on the cold, empty train tracks before every patrol and wish him luck on another night of beating criminals to a pulp? Was he used to the worrying? Annoyed by it, even?

He doesn't say anything. The car leaves in a spray of dust and you hide your face in your shirt to shield yourself from it. By the time the dust settles, you can only see two red lights blurring into the distance.

[capymosey]

on meljayvik & that bomb tinkering scene

i made a lil comment on this but i wanted to expand on it here since there’s no hard character limit

so, yeah, there’s a lot of what i would consider bs discourse on mel ignoring viktor etc and jayce and manipulation etc whatever blahblahblah i hate that shite because it really isn’t satisfying since it feels like people making claims on very little objective data

mel knows jayce couldnt take the bomb apart and she brings up this hot topic when viktor is in the middle of doing delicate, dangerous work. sure, he stops during it but she isn’t worried at all. she trusts him, jayce trusts him - they know he’s competent and brilliant and works well under pressure (“the resonance will stabilize it. trust me.”) so they are all ok to have this difficult convo during a very dangerous task

i did see some people stating viktor was also considering letting jayce and him die, whick is uhhhh something all right. viktor isn’t a fighter. he’s a scientist. he’s gentle, kind, quirky, but also a risk-taker. he isn’t someone who would hurt others, though. so as fun as that train of thought could be, i don’t buy it since it isn’t in line with who viktor is. i cant believe the same people who advocate for “there is always a choice”!viktor, and other such things about his character would even consider this line of thinking but whatever. it’s fandom 🤷‍♂️

i do think there is some great misunderstanding to characters because of ships and limited screen time to anyone who isn’t violet or jinx but i see the trio as a group who understand each other and work well together. yes, mel didnt realize how close jayce and viktor were before viktor got hospitalized, but she knows his mind and contributions. mel isnt an idiot. she knows shite. she researches and strategizes and she also knows viktor and jayce. just look back at any convo you might have with friends or family in groups of more than 2 people and this is like one glimpse into how the trio might talk to each other at any given time over any topic. not everyone always agrees with each other and sometimes you can tell when you can influence, for example, your dad over your mom regarding getting a pony. viktor’s name isnt on hextech public records so mel knows viktor has given up having a majority say on it (maybe because viktor is all about being behind the scenes, esp as his health continues to spiral, and jayce could also be at fault for not treating viktor like the partner he claims viktor is). sure, there’s some societal issues going on, too, but at this point - whether mel is still influenced by this piltover attitude or not - she cares about jayce enough at this point to value what he values, and one of those big things is viktor (which she undoubtedly knows coz he keeps going to her about him 😅). and when viktor strongly objects she looks at him like someone who wishes she didn’t have to suggest what she’s suggesting since her feelings about her mom/upbringing could be a factor she’s considering.

another big holy shit moment in this scene is mel bringing up heimer and showing he doesn’t always have the sway with jayce that she now does. heimer may have been neglectful of zaun, but now mel seems against zaun, too, and jayce is appearing to be agree with it (and he does, until the prep for the finale battle in s2)

like this scene is also more of a tie with the a bridge scene in showing jayce and viktor not sticking together. viktor is seeing jayce consider him less and less and seeing people from zaun as subhuman. jayce “understanding” grows less and less in his mind and viktor becomes more isolated. how can he trust jayce when jayce may not trust him (“they’re dangerous!” and “i need to think [about this on my own, without further convo with you, viktor, who i claim is my partner]” “defend your people”) and who can he depend on to help zaun if he’s dead and jayce is using hextech to take lives? he’s gotta take the risks. but sky’s death and the hexcore sentiently taking away the use of his leg show him the error of the path he starts and he just accepts death (not that he wants to die) as something that will happen irregardless of what happens after he’s gone. (too bad he just dies and we never see viktor in s2 until his theme comes up at the end when jayce gives him the cosmic hug)

also mel gives viktor another look before telling jayce the choice is his. i think she wishes he was on board coz then they might have come up with another solution but the show is written in a way where hextech is always the answer (i.e., weapons, etc) and not like…personal and political manouvering 😅

plus the trio smile at each other when an alternate option is approved by the council before jinx blows it all up. there’s some kind of dynamic going on here

anyway

my brain doesnt work this hard this long

i think fortiche should unleash their meljayvik vault of fics and help fandom out since they often partake and enjoy fanworks to help meljayvik out 🤣

p.s. can we instead focus on how hardcore viktor is in the end? not even a sigh of relief or anything showing stress. man is a well-oiled machine when it comes to how confident he in his choices. he already figured out the bomb and made a choice after getting distracted/frustrated with jayce

[mintaii]

May I ask for your thoughts on Arcane season 2! Be as honest as you want, I ook a lot of issue w it and would love to see what other people took issue with.

well overall i was kinda disappointed HAHA the animation was so jawdroppingly gorgeous (i am going to absorb that art book into my system when i receive my copy), i just wish the writing this season reflected the visuals it was delivered with.

i'll type out further thoughts under the read more

things i really liked:

episode 7 was so peak. an ekko character episode, the whole AU deal, timebomb, heimer's silly little bard song and jayce being miserable in the canyon with the voidimals

jayvik soulmatism (edit: ok but the reveal that the old wizard who saved jayce was viktor was SO goofy i'm sorry i can't take that part seriously)

there were a few scenes here and there i loved. off the top of my head: the entirety of ep 1's opening sequence (aftermath of the rocket launch, the funeral), mel's talks with 'kino' and the build up to the realization that he's fake, vi + jinx's fight paralleling jayce, ekko and heimerdinger experiencing the hexhorrors

i liked the horror elements, lowkey wish they did more of it

sorry i'm going to rip into it for a bit:

the pacing was not great LOL felt like we had no time to marinate in everything they were throwing at us because we had to move on fast. the reason why i love ep7 so much was bcos it gave us the time to breathe

this was the biggest thing for me: the zaun and piltover conflict not being the central story of this season was a disservice to nearly every characters' arc.

too many music videos lmfao interesting how it's for mostly addressing sociopolitical issues in zaun/piltover

i think it's kinda weird u don't see ekko and jayce for a nearly whole act (considering ekko's role in saving the timeline and what jayce finds out in the hexpocalypse)

vi in particular to me felt so extinguished as a character and it makes me so mad how she feels completely shoved to the side writing wise. even her big solo character moment which was her as a pit fighter was? relegated to a music video?

did not like caitlyn by the end of it all and how they handled her character this season unfortunately made me dislike caitvi's dynamic in the finale (and i was rooting for them!!!) hence why i don't like how vi goes i'm the dirt under your nails to her at the end LMAO

i felt like the reveal that vander and silco were besties with vi + powder's mom cheapened the emotional intensity of vander, vi and powder becoming found family on the bridge and vander's decisions afterwards, as well as silco's own decision to take powder in. i'm sorry but i really don't think silco in s1 knew who tf vi and powder were (other than the awareness they were vander's daughters)

prefacing this by saying viktor is my favorite character (to no one's surprise) but i wasn't a huge fan of the direction they took him this season!! i think he should have been a robot but also he was severely underutilised in their attempt to make him the main antagonist in act 3. imo it thematically makes more sense to have the herald still be a machine. also the lack of agency in his evolution was so weird to me (though i do like the idea of jayce being the one to jumpstart the transformation out of love). i could keep going on about him lmao

[brynnsasha191]

(Tldr at the end) Okay here goes.

People really misunderstood Callum in episode two, s7 (that's okay, the writers didn't do a great job of conveying what I'm about to say, no hate to them though) Callum did not betray Ezran

I see a lot of people criticizing Callum for prioritizing Rayla instead of Ez and saying Rayllum is toxic because it got in the way of familial relationships. But that's not what Callum's actions were really about, they weren't about "oh rayla is upset so I'm going to burn down all bridges for her" like a lot of people seem to think. His actions had a lot to do with Rayla but they also had a lot to do with the fact that Callum genuinely believed what Ezran was doing wasn't right.

(btw I'm writing this with Callum's opinions in mind, I'm not just projecting mine on Callum. I believe Runaan did something wrong and deserved punishment for it, and I believe both Rayla and Ez were both right and wrong. I am on everyone's side)

In the beginning of the episode, we see Callum trying to reason with Rayla and defend Ezran by telling her to give him a minute to process what recently happened to him. And he says "he [runaan] did kill it's king" but he never actually said he agreed with Ezran, he was just trying to get Rayla to see Ezran's side.

Ezran and Rayla's fight during the council meeting was understandable upsetting for Callum, his two favorite people were fighting. And when he tried to follow Rayla to get her to come back, Ezran commanded him to do otherwise, as the king, Ezran has a right to do that. But that moment probably felt uncomfortable and belittling and frustrating for Callum, it's the same unhealthy push and pull dynamic that I talked about in my 'why Callum shouldn't be high mage' meta. It made Callum disinterested in the council meeting, and while that's not Ezran's fault, it is the same corner that the broyals keep walking themselves into.

Callum goes outside and sees Rayla crying, that is also understandably distressing for him, but he doesn't blame Ezran at all. He apologizes for his choice in that moment, he says he should've gone after her, not "Ezran shouldn't have done that or said that", if Callum was completely choosing Rayla over Ez, he easily could've deflected the blame to him, but he didn't, he apologized for his own actions which to me shows that Callum isn't the type to blame Ezran unnecessarily.

When Callum goes to Ezran and calls him a jerk face (very uncool thing of him to say to Ezran, Ezran didn't deserve that) Rayla and Callum already finished their conversation where Rayla decided to secretly get Runaan out, there wasn't a point to try to convince Ezran to let Runaan out then. He went to Ezran, not to convince him to free Runaan, but to convince Ez he wasn't doing the right thing. As the scene progresses, Callum's voice gets softer and he starts speaking sensibly and reasonably without ad hominem attacks. He acknowledges Ezran's feelings about Katolis being destroyed but also acknowledges that that particular part of Ezran's pain isn't connected to Runaan. And Ezran has no problem sharing his true feelings with Callum, Callum doesn't dismiss them once. He puts his hand on Ezran's shoulder and validates his feelings, also not to mention he apologizes immediately after calling Ez a jerk face. And when Ezran says "he killed our father" Callum doesn't know how to respond because he isn't completely siding with R&R. He knows Ez has a point.

Rayla and Runaan could have been seriously injured during the fight with Soren and the soldiers. Aanya was going to shoot them, and Ezran was going to let her. It's really weird that this fandom seems to think Callum should've sat by and not stood up for them. Callum absolutely shouldn't have condoned Rayla breaking Runaan out without permission, he should've told her to stop and stay put until he had a chance to talk to Ezran's more. But that's not what happened, what happened was a messy game of tug-o-war between two people who love each other that nearly killed people and almost destroyed relationships. Callum didn't choose Rayla, he chose what he thought was right, and that was not Ezran at the time. People get so mad at him for not standing by Ezran's side but he wanted to, but standing by someone's side doesn't mean sitting back and letting them do something that you believe is wrong.

He gave up his role as High Mage because he knew he couldn't continue to play that role after this, for him and Ezran's sake. He can't be his High Mage but he'll always be his brother.

TLDR: Callum actually did handle this situation maturely. The problem didn't lie with Callum or anyone else. This situation was an ugly and messy one that anyone would have a hard time navigating especially a kid who the people closest to him in the entire world were actively hurting each other. He's willing to do anything for Rayla, but this isn't about choosing Rayla, it's about what he thought was right.

[i-may-be-an-emu]

SFTH Fic Masterlist!!

This list is no longer active. I have however moved the list to here for several reasons explained in that post :) I’m still keeping this up though

someone said that they wanted a fic masterlist so I made one :))

These are all the sfth fics on ao3, wattpad and tumblr that i could find- they’re not really in any order but they are organised into the plays and stuff that they’re from. I have not read all of these, just compiling them here :)

the number at the end refers to how many fics there are in that category.

A big thank you to all these fic writers you’re amazing!

**full credit to the authors for these fics**

(note: no sexually explicit fics are on this list, though some are mature and some have serious warnings. Please read and consider the warnings.)

ao3:

#1. Omg Is This A Joke (3)

#.3 Lost In Your Eyes (3)

#5. Long Johns - STRIKE! (7)

#.10 The Midnight Mystery (2)

#11. Inside The Mysterious Cube and Part Two (19)

#13. All Eyes On Nigel (8)

#14. No! I Always Loved That Caravan (1)

#15. Wild, Wet & Worrisome (2)

#16. The Cardboard Stegosaurus (8)

#20. The Leftenmost Window (9)

#21. The Neighbours Under The Bed (3)

#22. The Milkman (10)

#23. Beetroots And Murder (3)

#24. Susan’s Holiday (1)

#25. The Evil Make a Wish Kid (1)

#26. Priscilla’s Final Petal (2)

#27. The Mystery Of The Midnight Circus (1)

#29. Wine Under The Bridge (2)

#30. The Unrelenting Aubergine And part two and part three and part four (32)

#31. The Lighthouse (1)

#32. Murders In Space (1)

#33. Marigolds Bluebells and Hugh (2)

#35. Burglary And Bobsledding (1)

#36. Toby’s Secret Pocket and part two (12)

#37. Ballet On The Battlefield (2)

#39. The Grape Depression (1)

#40. Strange Noises From The Hole In The Wall (2)

#41. Divorces And Teddy Bears (1)

#42. The Detective Versus The Christmas Tree Bandits (4)

Crossover Fics and crossover part two and crossover part three and crossover part four crossover part five (45)

Skits/Scenes (games/flurries) thirsty vamps(1) genre from huge(1) coming out timewarp(1) devils daughter (flurry?)(1) two therapist genre(1) total (5)

Headcanons/Lore/Other stuff (6)

Patreon Fics (you’re still welcome to read these if you’re not a patreon but it might not make sense) (3)

Live Show Fics (HOW!?!?!? Amazing. I think this play will be released and I’ll edit this when/if it does to be with fics from that play.) (1)

DND (not putting it in the patron list since some people bought tickets so it doesn’t really fit the patreon category) (9)

RPF and RPF Part Two and RPF Part Three and RPF Part Four and RPF Part Five RPF Part Six and RPF Part Seven and RPF Part Eight and RPF Part Nine Part Ten (If you don’t like rpf please don’t engage with these fics or authors, I just want to prevent arguments yk) (99)

RPF x Reader (making it its own category since all the others are with the boys that I know of I think and idk maybe people wanna find things easier?) (1)

Tumblr:

Improvised play fics (5)

Wattpad:

Improvised play fics (2)

if you’ve written any sfth fanfiction that’s up on ao3 and it’s not on this list and you want it to be then let me know and I’ll add it :)) (or if you’ve noticed any missing fics too)

Total fics on this masterlist: 318

(that’s if my dyscalculia didn’t fail me and I somehow counted right^^)

Last Updated: 31st December 2024

[tackytigerfic]

tacky! if you’re not fed up with talking about it: what was your macro process for first watch of the night, soup to nuts? wondering about how you broke down outlining, drafting, editing. was it different in scope from your ordinary process, or just scaled up?

soup to nuts, baby (i had to google that, it is one of those delightful phrases that we don't use here and i'm hopelessly charmed by it).

thanks for the ask, pal. i'm always interested in people's processes myself, particularly since I came to writing so late (late 30s) and have never approached it formally. i do read an awful lot and that i think is my main influence and teacher (less so in recent years but am trying to get back to incessant reading). i have also been trying to read more works in translation and to revisit classics too, as well as try more formally inventive works. this i struggle with as i'm a bit basic when it comes to reading, i like the segue 'twixt page and brain to be seamless so it's like i'm absorbing it rather than thinking about it, while ofc a more experimental style does often necessitate thinking about it. My partner (approvingly) described my original work as a 'stylistic blank' (the cleaner the better i say) and that's exactly what i like best to read - though it's always a pleasure to be dragged by the throat out of my comfort zone too.

I would always have described myself as a pantser - I never outline, never do writing exercises or character work or beat sheets or whatever (i'm quite resistant to a very structured formal approach). every fic i ever write starts with the germ of one very specific idea - a cameraflash-quick image of a scene, a piece of dialogue... whatever it is. and then i usually start to write at the start and then work my way through.

This one was fairly similar in approach, initially. I opened one doc for loose note-taking — it's where i jot down any ideas i had for scenes, any snippets of dialogue, anything I'd need to remember. I then started writing the fic itself - in this case, I actually skipped through and wrote out of order, not that I knew what order things were going to go in, as such - but I just wrote any scenes I had thought of that felt interesting to me, and skipped a lot of the world-buildingy scenes or the sort of "texture" scenes, the ones that construct a sense of the world they're in and the relationships they have. I then found myself in the position of having to go back and write those bridging scenes, and make the connections (which in some cases did not naturally fall into place) - it was not easy, and I wish i had taken a more linear approach to the writing, in retrospect.

So by the end, some scenes in this fic were written in 2021 and some in late 2024, which means that when I finally finished the rough first draft, the writing quality was patchy, the pacing was off, and some plotty stuff really didn't make sense. That's when the real hard work started.

A few people had looked over very early scenes, but the bulk of the fic was written with no input from anyone else - just three years of writing it into a vacuum without any sense of perspective. Showing it to my alpha/beta people was so nerve-wracking. they read it at different times, which was great as i could concentrate on their feedback one by one, and all three of them had different suggestions (as well as lots of overlap ofc). It was extremely helpful to see what made sense to them, and what they liked - but more significantly, what bits they went 'what the fuck' at, or which bits all three of them had issue with (i'm thinking of the ending here, i really had to kill some darlings there when all three were unanimously just like... tacky no). i had different docs for all three of them, and i worked off one master doc, deciding which changes i wanted to incorporate and how i wanted to approach them. plot stuff was a HUGE issue. the writing quality could be smoothed out - but i'm not a plotty writer and sadly this fic has A LOT of plot. so i needed to work on that. i also have some wolfstar (including a sex scene) which i was nervous about, as i have never read any wolfstar.

Once i finished all the edits, i then did one more read-through myself. I've never edited on such a significant level before. my other two longer fics were written for fests, usually in a scramble to get them done on time — this felt expansive in a way i couldn't have imagined allowing myself to be before i was in it, but as i was working it didn't feel necessary to try to force myself into speed i couldn't hope to achieve or maintain.

@sweet-s0rr0w and i had a really happy morning organising the chapter breaks, and then i had to decide on a title and write a summary. tagging was easier as i had my friends to advise.

another big difference to previous processes is the posting schedule. now i'm posting a chapter every two days, i spend the day between posts working on the upcoming chapter one more time. in all but one chapter i have made quite a few changes immediately prior to posting, which just goes to show that the work is shaping itself as it goes. It's been fascinating to me how putting the fic out into the world is giving me a sense of perspective, creative distance, and dare i say a tighter control over the narrative now that it's not just in my head anymore? so i do think any tiny remaining wrinkles are more satisfyingly flattened than i could have ever hoped for.

so in short, this work is different in scale, ambition, and process in almost every way to anything i've ever written. I can't imagine i'm likely to be able to pour myself into something so profoundly ever again, tbh. it took me by surprise, but it's been the most creatively satisfying thing i've ever done. having people finally reading it (and so generously too) is like getting a very special gift.

Regrets? Being the slowest writer in the world, being too perfectionist (not that i think it's perfect in any way, just i wanted it to be the best i could make it, when it probably would have been grand if it was ehhh fine, you know?) Also, i think i could probably have refined the pacing a bit more. We're on chapter 7 now and six months have passed, so basically the last three months of the fic take place over the last 14 chapters 🙈 But that's because this is where most of the romance and plot develops, so it makes sense that it would take up more space. And i do firmly believe that fics should be a bit self-inulgent, so why not stretch out in the parts i'm most interested in writing?

tagging @citrusses @maesterchill and @sweet-s0rr0w who i can never thank enough for the work they did to get me to this point. everyone already knows what brilliant writers all three are - what a lucky bastard i am to have had their insights and advice.