#there's still people who care about you as more then an emotional crutch

[irldragonart]

oh the temptation to make a playlist cause I'm sad again but I know the moment I do people are gonna get concerned

[cherry-pop-elf]

Honey, I’m Home-!

Sirius Black x Mom! Reader

Ever since Sirius was sent to Azkaban, you were the one in charge of raising Harry. Doing your best, and lucky to have Remus to help. Because of that, a certain Rat wasn’t able to avoid any of your gazes. When Harry’s third year came to a end, you were given quite a surprise at the train station

Warnings 18+, P in V, Female Reader, high emotions, hurt comfort, fluffy and heated sex, getting back together, implied breeding kink, taking care of your man with baths food and you, sir this bed is about to be destroyed with how hard he’s going to rail you. Also, implied Wolfstar/ Remus x You/Poly situation deal up in here hehehehe

“Harry-!” You called, with a smile. Always there to pick him up from the station, every single time. As a good parent would. Ever since you found out he had such a risk to end up at the Dursleys, like hell you would let that happen. Made you pamper him a bit, given your good friends lost their lives for him. But like hell he didn’t deserve it.

“Shhh shh-!” Harry was soon hushing his friends, leaving you confused. Hermione and Ron quick to hush up, while Remus would set the last of the bags off the train. Wanting to help out, since there were so many Weasleys to worry about. The way he smiled, you were even more curious. You couldn’t recall the last time he looked so relieved. Was there a change in laws that permitted him to work at Hogwarts?

“Children, settle down. Settle down. Go on and show her the surprise.” He teases them, as he would help Molly with the rest of the Weasleys. He threw you a wink, which had you very confused. Not what did that Marauder have in mind this time?

“Mum…..Can we get a dog?” Harry asked you, as the trio stood next to each other. With cuts and bruises all over, but smiling. Even Ron seemed chipper, despite the fact he was in crutch. The hell did those three get into this time?

“A dog-? Harry….You know why we can’t get a dog.” You sighed, not wanting to have this discussion again. With out Sirius, you just couldn’t. Any dog was to painful of a reminder. Oh how you miss your padfoot. What you would give to see him again.

“Mum, please? He’s got no where else to go. Just look at him-“ Harry pleaded, as the trio stepped aside. The dog now exposed to you. Was so painfully skinny, yet also so furry at the same time. Matted fur, and just looking like a grim. He looked so much like Sirius, but so dead as well. Your heart just couldn’t say no this time.

The defeated sigh had them cheer, as Remus returned. Still giving you this coy smile, that had you furrow your brows. You felt like you were missing something, but you didn’t know what. You just knew that it was time to take everyone home.

With Harry hugging his friends goodbye, while this new dog stuck close to your legs, Remus would catch up quickly with Molly. Explaining something. You swore it was about Scabbers, but the new playmate was keeping your attention. Suddenly jumping on you, and licking your face.

“ACK-! HEEL HEEL-!” You called, as the dog was just to strong. How was something so fragile so durable? Reminded you of Sirius. How even in his dog form he was able to tackle people down. Was just making your heart hurt more, which in a morbid sense made you unable to refuse the dog either.

“Mum, Uncle Remus said you should head home with our new dog. He needs me to stay here and catch Mrs. Weasley up on stuff.” The way he fidgeted with his glasses told you it was a mixture of a lie and some truths. What the hell were these people planning? Was this some scheme to help you move on? Accept Sirius was never coming back? That hurt, but also a point was made. Who can escape Azkaban?

“Alright. But be home before dark.” You warned, as you kissed his forehead. Right on his scar, which made him smile. He made sure to give you a hug, before quickly returning to the red heads. Poor Molly looked ready to faint. Make that she did, and the twins had to catch her. Yeah, like hell you wanted to be involved with that.

“Alright, let’s-“ But the dog was running. Right through the wall, with no hesitation. You were flabbergasted, but had no time to think. Harry’s new dog was running off. No way you wanted his poor heart broken over that. So, you ran after it. Trying to catch up, but it seemed high on life.

“GET BACK HERE-!” You hollered, as the dog was running like it was the last thing it could ever do. You were so focused on trying to catch up to it, you barely noticed where you were running towards. By the time you finally caught up, you were wheezing. Hands on your knees, as the door the dog stopped at opened.

“About time Master and Mistress Black returned.” Kreacher sneered, as the dog hurried inside. Did he say what you think he said? No way. That can’t be Sirius. No way in hell. Looks like him, but he’s in Azkaban. You don’t just escape Azkaban. Sure, the daily prophet said he did. But it was more than likely gossip gone wild. You swore every week they said someone did, only for them to be returned the next day.

“Kreacher, phew, give me a minute here.” You coughed, as you stumbled inside. Left for the building to vanish, in the early morning fog. As if it was never there. Leaving you to be alone, with the elf and dog, as you hung up your coat.

You did your best with making the home more live able. The spare rooms built for whenever Harry wanted friends over for the summers. Along with just a safe haven for friends in need of a stay. You turned what was once a cage, into a proper home. Seemed the dog loved it, as it was quick to run up the stairs. Bolting past the curtained painting, and straight to your bedroom.

“How does it….No. no this can’t be. No way…” It was starting to become harder to deny, as you walked up the stairs. By the time you reached the door, you heard it. That familiar eerie bone cracking, when a animagus was changing forms. No way. It couldn’t be. It can’t-

“Home sweet home-“ That gruff voice sung to you, as you opened the door. There he was. Your husband. Your world. Your everything. Standing there, bending his back, as he sported a tattered Azkaban uniform. Bloody, dirty, hardly clothing at all. Hair a mangled mess, and in desempate need of a bath and shave. He was so sickly thin, the very thin fabric was just a sheet on him. Hardly could process it, when those dark eyes locked on yours. Hair so long now, and body tattered. No matter the design, it was still him. Your Sirius.

“Hardly changed a day…” He dreamily said, with that exhausted smile. He was so drained, but you could still see the pure joy in his eyes. He was home. He was with you, and could be there for Harry now. His best friend Remus was in his life again. He’s not in that damn prison, and he’s in your sight once more.

You didn’t care about the grime, as you practically fell into his arms. Sobbing in joy, as he held you close. Despite his thinner structure, he was able to hold you tightly. As tightly as he could, and sway with you. No need for words. Just gentle tears.

That was why Remus was so coy, and why Harry had you two run off. You two needed time to reconnect. Even so young, Harry could grasp how important this was. Guess you were rasing him right. Seemed also that Kreacher might have missed Sirius as well, because you could hear a bath being run. No one asked for it, but he did it. His own free choice. He missed him, in his own way.

“Darling, I love you so much. I really do, but I am so fucking gross right now. You know I’m being honest when even I’m unable to handle my own stink. I’ve had sex with Moony under a full moon. I’m GROSS gross right now. I will kill for a bath-“ He went on, making you just laugh with your tears. Despite the years in such a horrific prison, he was still himself. Guess he was always a little insane.

You didn’t let him go an inch, as you trailed after him to the bathroom. More than happy to help him wash. Just enjoying the needed intimate moment. Just a wife, washing her husband. By god was he filthy. By the time Harry and Remus returned, he was finally drying off. You had no idea if the bathtub will ever recover. Least he was now in his favorite black robe.

“I’ve got dinner handled, don’t worry-!” Remus called, as Sirius would come down the stairs with you. Unable to let go of his arm, and he hardly complained. He missed your touch all the same, as you two would enter the dinning room. Where Harry sat.

“Guess we better start from the beginning.” Harry murmured. You had already gotten used to your son’s insane adventures, but this one took the cake. He got his god father out of Azkaban, somehow-? Yeah, you were sitting down for this. Mindlessly playing with the exposed chest hair you could grab, as the trio of misfits began to explain.

Even while eating, more like Sirius devouring anything in sight, there was so much to discuss. Was mostly Remus, and Harry, speaking. Given Sirius was more so busy hiding during that time frame. Oh how your heart had broken, and repaired, over and over from it all. Your poor husband. But, he’s back now. He’s back, and he’s never leaving you again.

“I know you are my god father and all, but….Do I call you dad now-?” Harry asked. He’s thirteen, still a child after all. It’s going to be a lot to process, even by Wizard standards. With his meal finished, Sirius did have to think a moment. Dispite the fact Harry knew Sirius from stories, because of you and Remus, he was still a stranger after all.

“Uncle Padfoot will work just fine.” He smiled, as he ruffled Harry’s hair. That made the young teen give an awkward grin, as there was something to work with now. Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. It’s a start, and you couldn’t be happier. Just staring with such love to him, with your head on his shoulder. Taking in that scent, as Remus was unable to stop his smile to.

“Harry, dear, why don’t we go out for a walk. Hm?” Remus asked him, making the boy raise a brow. Why would he want to….Oh. Right. Remus would give a gentle head nudge towards the door, and Harry was quick to get the message. Grabbing his jacket, wand, and chasing after his uncle. Not wanting to say another word, as he really rather not think about his mother’s sex life. Even if it’s with his god father.

The second the door closed, you were yanked from your chair. You gave a squeak, as you were tossed over his shoulder. Just like the old days at school. Whenever he wanted your attention, he simply tossed you over his shoulder. Forcing you to pay attention to him, as he would steal you to a private room for a discussion.

“I’m not letting you out of that bed until the head board breaks-“ He warned, as that had your heart racing. Twelve years is a long time, and there was most certainly some catching up to do. You couldn’t deny that, as you watch the stairs trail behind him. Escorting you to your once shared bedroom. Now together again.

You were plopped right on the bed, and he was on you like the hungry dog he was. Stealing you into his lips, and you couldn’t stop your moaning. It had been so long. You needed him as badly as he needed you. How you were enjoying the new long hair, and tangling your fingers into it. Needing as much skin as you could get from him.

He was more than happy to give it to you. The robe thrown aside, as he was pulling at your clothes. Not giving damn if they tore. Nothing else mattered in this moment. He wanted to fuck his wife, and by god was he going to. Twelve years, in Azkaban. He’s going to get all twelve years of pent up desire out in one night. Will your body recover? Do you even care?

“Sirius-“ You sighed, as he finally got your top off. His face buried into your chest, as he snapped your bra strap off. Tossing it aside, as he drank you up. Just feeling your skin on his, and savoring the long missed flesh against his bearded face. Feeling that freshly softened hair on your chest felt so good. Every single fiber of your existence was on fire. Felt like you might implode.

“Not a day passed by, that I wasn’t thinking of you. You, Remus, Harry, you three were what kept me sane. I knew you three were safe with each other. Waiting for me. I came back. I came back, like I promised.” He sighed, as you felt the tears on your chest. Gentle fingers played with his hair, as to try and calm him down. Comforting him.

“I always knew you would.” You felt so silly thinking Remus would ever try and help you move on. Hypocrite he would have been. Human emotions be human emotions, and they were being carnal right now. Needing to burn and burn and burn.

“Have me again, like you’ve had me before.” You asked him, as you cupped his face. Having that thick beard nuzzle into your palm, as those dark eyes stared up to yours. So much pain in his face, but comfort in his eyes. It’s a long journey to recover, but his soul was still there. His body is damaged, but a body can repair. A mind is harder, and that was the battle. A battle he won.

With a kiss to your palm, he would soon attack your lips. Growling into you, as he pulled away the rest of your clothes. Needing to devour your body. Soon marking away at your neck, your chest, your arms. If there was anything his lips could grasp, and making sure you were marked. As if to remind the world you belonged to him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not anymore.

“Sirius, how can you still be such a tease?” You whined, as he was grazing his teeth over your thigh. Leaving a bite on your flesh. Letting himself enjoy the flavor of the tingling flesh under his tongue.

“What? I’m an old dog. Old dogs have bad habits.” He teased, before he finally allowed you to get some attention. He really didn’t change, and you were shocked. Never thought being abused could be useful. Only a Black would have such a morbid survival skill.

Before any more depressing thoughts could fill your head, you were able to enjoy the familiar sight. Your husband between your legs, with his cock rubbing against you. The tip of his cock coming into view, whenever he rolled his hips up and down. Rubbing right on your clit, and making you whimper. Sure you’ve played with yourself, but nothing beats his touch.

You both were gripping tightly. Him on your thighs, while you grabbed his shoulders. Needing to feel him in your hands. You both needed it so badly, but both held a near fear. As if afraid that it was all a dream. Luckily, he had the nerve to test that fear. Test it, as he finally pushed in.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this-“ He moaned, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The way he growled, and his body just shivered. Aching, and moaning. Might spill just then, if he didn’t stop. Just savoring the feeling of being back inside of you, and how your eyes watered from pure comfort. To have your husband back.

He would lean down, and kiss away your tears, before he allowed himself to move. Just moaning for you, as his nails dug into your flesh. Marking you more, as you moaned into each others mouths. Needing to drink in every last thing you both could offer. So much to catch up on, and to make up for.

With the tender moment passing, you were soon reminded of the wild man you married. The feeling of your legs being pushed towards your shoulders, as he tried to get into you deeper. With his hands now on your ankles, as he was snapping his hips into yours. Needing to make sure you felt ever inch of him.

You loved it, and missed it, all. The feeling of your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his hair. How he growled into you, and the snarls. Oh how you loved how animalistic he was for you. How he would bark and howl at the beg and call to you. Your big bad wolf.

It was all you missed. Had you in a mixture of tears, and pure desire. How he wanted to fight your tears, and kissed you. As heated as he could, to make up for the years parted. To taste you, and savor you all over again. Just the sounds of your moans, the creaking bed, and the flesh on flesh.

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but you felt him pull your lip. Sinking his teeth into it. A typical sign that he was close. A need to ground himself, to last a little longer. Oh how you missed his little habits. That thrill of pain again sent you over, as you came with him. To be as connected as possible.

You expected to get a moment to savor the after glow, but he kept true to his word. You were soon tossed onto your stomach, with the ass in the air. Of course he wanted doggy. It’s cheesey, but a favorite. Suppose one more round could be mustered.

One more became two, and three, and soon you had to chug a Pepper Up potion to keep up. You lost track of the rounds, before you were laid on your back. Soaked in sweat, and sticky from it all. Sheets hardly on the bed, and you were certain there were cracks in the wood. Hardly could breathe, but it seemed he was satisfied.

“Pretty sure you fucked a dozen kids into me.” You wheezed, as he chuckled. Enjoying a much needed cigarette, but still making sure you were comforted. Having your head in his lap, as he played with your face. Admiring all your features.

“Good.” He snickered, as you swatted at his hand. The both of you able to share a laugh, as there was a soft knock at the door. All Sirius had to do was give a sniff in the air, and he knew who it was. A whistle was given, before he grabbed a pillow for you. So you could cover up, despite the fact Remus has certainly saw you naked many times.

“Feeling better now-? Could have used a silencing charm. Had to tell Harry Kreacher was fixing a wardrobe.” Remus scoffed, with a tray of needed drinks and snacks. He would set it down on the bed side table, before joining on the bed. He deserved to catch up with Sirius to. Fine by you.

With some shifting, you were soon snuggled between the two men. Sirius still playing with your hair, as the two men remained sitting up. Keeping their voices low, so you could drift. Just able to be safe, and warm, again. Snuggling your husband, and comforted by the sound of old memories.

What a wonderful lullaby.

[mysterycitrus]

I know a lot of ppl ask u abt jason or dick but im wondering now, what do u think about bruce? I find him a very interesting character whose characterization is incredibly feeble, both bc of his 80 years of history and the tendency writers have to project their own male fantasies on him. So i'd definitely love to hear ur own thoughts about him. I personally enjoy depicting him as someone morally grey, although my sympatization for him changes day to day. Wether you think he is a good or a bad person, i believe u need to make him dedicated to gotham and the bat as a symbol, and that comes with all its advantages and drawbacks

bruce wayne is sooooo interesting (derogatory) because like u said, he carries the baggage of every masochismo author that decided batman was too woke and should hurt his kids and that supporting gotham’s infrastructure is for pussies. there’s also the flipside of that, where he’s the perfect father who’s waaaay too emotionally regulated for my taste. both of these interpretations are bad imo, and both functionally miss the point.

i think part of this (in fandom) is an obsession with moral angst — u can either be a good person doing good things, or a bad person doing bad things. think about how some characters are crucified while others are babied. someone always has to be absolutely right, and the other has to be absolutely wrong.

in reality, there are a lot of people who are fundamentally kind and fundamentally want to do good that are really terrible to the people in their lives. bruce wayne being someone who relies on having so much control that it implodes his connections to the people around him is an important part of his character. his profound love for his children, for gotham and her people, for humanity in general and his belief in peoples ability to change, doesn’t circumvent the fact that he’s often an emotionally abusive man who hurts others to achieve his own ends. he contains multitudes.

writing him as a functionally irredeemable, violently abusive person is the anti-thesis to the symbol that he himself created. no, i personally don’t believe he actively beats his kids (even though it’s supported in the text). no, i don’t think he’s an irredeemable sadist (as much as frank miller wants u to believe otherwise). to have people like dick grayson and diana and clark and dinah love and believe in u means that there has to be something there worth caring about, otherwise the whole universe is gonna fall apart.

that’s what makes his relationship to cass so interesting — he sees his neuroticism, his dedication to the cause above all else, and does not find it admirable. he finds it confronting and upsetting. and to be clear, cass (like dick) is very much the moral ideal of what batman should be, but still bruce finds it hard to deal with!!

his abject failures — his treatment of the robins, his crippling guilt about jason, his fears of becoming a killer, the impossible load he gives himself to carry — means that when he’s shown as someone who genuinely cares, it makes him more complex. like yeah, bruce isn’t actually a cold hearted person. he really really gives a shit. too many shits, to be totally honest. he’s a morally grey person that wants to do good, but is so terrified of losing control that he keeps others away and hurts them in the process. there’s a reason why his emotional crutch was a traumatised eight year old fr. nothing is more important than the mission, including bruce wayne himself

[sillysiluriforme]

So glad you liked the other Chloe submission, thanks for the informative and entertaining response and the kind words from the comrades!

As before no worries if not interested but I did have a couple more thoughts, though be it these one's likely relate very specifically to teen Chloe so may not be useful/interesting but still.

Oh quick aside:

Not sure how prevalent Sabrina is, but the fact we see her dad encourage her master servant dynamic with Chloe, because it fits his definition of being "Useful" to society and how... Low key unhinged Sabrina can get about her usefulness not being utilized or acknowledge (Like with Marinette) is very interesting. Her & Chloe finding each other in canon is just like two people with hilariously complimentary but deeply unhealthy ideas forming a circular relationship of mutual self destruction.

Anyway, an interesting thing to me is how while Chloe does replicate the abusive behaviors taught (Andre) or demonstrated (Audrey,, Gabriel & Emilie) to her, she had already softened them without any real moral or empathic guidance.

Andre: He explicitly taught her cheating, extortion & threats are moral goods, and she does use them to try and win at things. But she doesn't actually utilize them that often or with as much intensity.

& like her father she uses money/gifts to compensate for shitty behavior but unlike him does, ya know, do things with Sabrina & is invested in their relationship outside of Sabrina's use as a tool.

& while she did use Sabrina as a shield in Zombisu, she also protected her in Ladybug, so its at least mote mutual as I cannot envision Andre doing anything for Chloe that really risks him.

Audrey: She's been impersonating her mother for years in a bid to earn her love but it didn't work until someone else made Audrey decide it was worthwhile & even then didn't seem to amount to much.

So while like Audrey she is antagonistic, haughty and rude, Chloe did actually demonstrate the ability to feel guilt (Zombisu but others too) & when Akumatized in the early series was not terribly murderous.

Compare that to Audrey who happily mulches her husband and daughter despite AKuma usually avoiding hurting their loved one's outside of indirect harm done by their warped attempts to protect.

Gabriel & Emilie: She clearly fucking hates that Adrien is making friends with people she hates and who hate her and is possessive of the relationship.

Yet until everything goes to hell, she doesn't really do much to try and stop him or undermine said relationships either. That is to say, she's already far less possessive & controlling than Emilie of Gabriel are.

Conclusion: So yeah while definitely not good, she had seemingly without much if any guidance, already made the abusive traits she picked up less toxic than those demonstrated by the adults around her.

Note: Also I always feel compelled to note this, but it is low key creepy Andre has been rewarding Chloe for impersonating his wife.

Like even if he's just instinctively recreating the dynamic he had with Audrey; not sure on that as they do seem to argue a lot.

Or is just using Chloe as an emotional crutch/ego-soothing proxy for Audrey's approval... Its still deeply messed up & unhealthy.

you're so smart @clemnoir was right you deserve sloppy head

I love thinking about child development when it comes to fictional characters, it's so fun...Also i don't care how much the show tries i will never have empathy for andre i hope he explodes into a fine mist

[patchiko]

What ifffffffff AK! Jason with an s/o who's like the overworked therapist friend? Also congrats on 90 followers! Hopefully it's 100 soon!

GOTCHU ANON, I FUCKIN GOTCHU. N’ we hit 100+!! Thank you so much!

While I am not an overworked therapist friend, I have experience with people in my life leaning on me as an emotional crutch so I’m gonna do my fuckin’ best for u anon.

also reminder to set healthy boundaries for yourself, you’re not a bad person if you aren’t capable to handle someone else’s mental and physical problems. If someone ever gets mad at you for not handling THEIR shit, please know that it is not a good person and you are not wrong for cutting them off or setting boundaries with them. anyways—

AK!Jason x “Overworked Therapist” Friend as an S/O

SFW Drabble + Headcanons

You had just gotten off an three hour long call with a friend, deciding to make some pancakes. You leaned back on your counter as you set two pancakes on the pan and pondered. Your friend was going through a lot, a break-up seemed like the end of the world. But you understood that. Thats why they confided it all in you. You could understand and advise when needed. The physical toll, the constant conversation filled with overwhelming emotions, the never-ending turmoil other people always seem to stick you in, one after another. It made you wonder at times, if understanding, if being able to put yourself in other shoes, if being able to see at different angles, if being able to see every detail in a never-ending portrait that is someones life, is it worth it? Would it be easier to close your eyes, to turn off your phone? Is it worth? Losing the beauty of understanding, of being able to see the finer details that most seemingly can’t quite pick up?. Is it a burden to bear but a blink of someone’s life?

Oh shit!

Jason snapped his fingers at you twice while walking to the stove. You hadn’t even notice the burning smell of the pancakes that Jason was now flipping. “I don’t get it.” his husky voice was flat. You could tell, he wasn’t mad or upset, genuinely confused trying to wrap his head around something— oh the pancakes!

“Oh, I was spacing out and lost tra-“

“Not the pancakes.” He paused for a few moments, eyes furrowed as he thought to himself before speaking once more. “You work yourself off just by talking. I can see how tired you are after talking to someone about whatever bullshit they’re going through.—“ You always had noted that even if he spoke vulgarly he didn’t necessarily have aggression towards the topic. ”—You analyze over, then over, until you get it. Shit, you’ve probably thought to yourself something about me while I’m talkin’.”

Oops! He gotcha! He turns to you and reaches above your head for the cabinet with plates in it. “I don’t get why.” He said again flatly. He was closer to you breath just skimming your skin, but he really was just there for the plates lol. He took one then turned away, plating your two burnt pancakes with the one that looked a little undercooked, one that he made. Also noted. You took them and you murmur out your response,” I can’t just leave them, you know, they really feel safe with me and I can’t just blow them off randomly-“

“—Why not? They don’t do the same for you, some of them don’t even listen to your advice, and they don’t even fuckin’ pay you.” He attempted to sound humorous in that last one, but it his tone was still flat. He really did try though. You respond,

“The same reason you’re doing it for me, you care—“

“—The difference is, you do it for me too. So I do it for you, because we both..” his voice sounded endearingly soft spoken ”..care about each other.” You both paused, he was looking off to the floor leaning back on the counter across from you. “Listen, fine, I get it. You, care about them. But it’s taking a lot of your energy and time. So like, I don’t know fuckin’ pace yourself or somethin’.” He crossed his arms. “I hate— I don’t like to see how you get when people dump all of their shit on you. It’s not fair.” He was right. It wasn’t fair. Countless hours of you being up late because someone decided to keep you up with a dilemma, or someone making you late to something, you skipping meals cause your just too damn tired to move after coming home from someone’s monthly mental breakdown. He was right. It wasn’t fair. He stood up straight, his arms and legs crossed ‘Mean Girls’ style ,”Or I’m gonna start hanging up those calls on them in the middle of it. Thirty-minutes max or you’re charging.” You started giggling, trying to explain how he can’t do that in-between laughs. He smirked,

”Uh-huh, I will. Card only too.” He walked over to you, taking your emptied plate from you and putting it in the sink besides you. He propped himself up and looked into your eyes,”Just… Take it easy.” He reached for your hand, making a grabby motion at it. You place it into his scarred palm, his big ole’ hand making your hand look small. He took it softly and brought it to his lips and kissed softly. “Please.” He spoke softly again, voice cracking a little too. You nod, promising to find a way to get a even ground on it all instead of being overwhelmed with every call, text, conversation, you promised.

THE RED HOOD pulling up to someones house cause they won’t stop emotion dumping to you IK ITS A YT SHORT BUT ITS THE ONLY LINK I COULD FIND PLS SPARE MEEE — “Run yo’ pockets’ 😭😭

genuinely upsets him

He’ll still cook for you if you find yourself too tired after a that thirty minute call.

cause ong he wasn’t lying about hanging up.

had you lying to someone talkin about some..

‘ommgg sorry my phone died. 😭😭’

HE MEAN BUSINESS !!

He just hates how overworked you get, especially doesn’t like when he’s at a low moment and he already knows your overstressed and still comforting him.

JASON comin’ for that damn phone as soon as the call hit 30:01

HE DEF BE LISTENIN TO THAT DRAMA FR THO. MF LISTEN TO THAT SHIT LIKE A PODCAST. FACIAL EXPRESSIONS N’ EVERYTHING. 🙄😐😑😮😵‍💫😤

i had fun writing this. i need ak jason wtf☹️

PSPSP INBOX OPEN IF U WANT MORE! RQ SOMETHING! OR JUST YAP OG!

[oh-stars]

Surrender

Love is letting someone take care of you.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1,607 words | CW: injury | Rating: G

---

Steve has tried really hard these last five years to be more than what others expect of him. At first, it was just about being a better person and not the dickhead kid he used to be. That was easy enough, to choose kindness over the cruel words and inaction, but he didn’t realize there would be so much involved in being a better person overall, like beyond not kicking people when they’re down or holding open the door for a stranger, fundamentally changing the way he thinks to be a better friend and man. 

He’s not stupid, no matter what his dad always says. He knows there are cultural differences between guys and girls, but he also knows a lot of that is bullshit and misogynary (or whatever the word Robin is always saying) – that it comes from hating women and people who are different.

Steve’s thought a lot about manliness over the last few years. He doesn’t have a sister and other than Carol, who was always ‘one of the guys’ in Steve’s eyes, he really doesn’t have much experience hanging out with girls he’s not actively trying to date. Now he gets a ton of one-on-one time with women without the haze of attraction or ulterior motives. He’s seen the guys Max and Eleven giggle over in their magazines and none of them are the action stars they’re supposed to be drooling over – it’s all the cute guys with soft looks and kind eyes. 

He gets it now. Especially when he wakes up in the morning and looks down to find the hottest guy of them all curled up on his chest. Eddie’s not the epitome of masculinity, nor is Steve, but that doesn’t make them any less of a man. Their sexualities, interests, the way they share their emotions – none of that makes them more or less of a man. 

After years and years of relearning what being a man means to him, you would think Steve wouldn’t fall into the same stereotypes of his fellow men. And yet… 

He adjusts his grip on the crutches. It’s been hell trying to get inside, taking ages so he doesn’t fall again and break his other leg. Should he have called someone? Yes. Should he let Eddie know he needs a hand? Absolutely. Will he be admitting defeat? Never. He doesn’t even really understand why, if he’s honest. It’s not like Hopper’s going to come speeding down, sirens blazing, and demand Steve hand over his Man Card because he asked for help. 

Steve manages to make it to the door, out of breath and sweating under his coat and layers. He leans against the doorframe as he digs for his keys. It takes way too much effort, but eventually, he’s able to get inside. Steve drops his bag, then walks carefully to the couch, cringing with each swing-step he takes as his snowy boot tracks water all along the rug. 

“Steve?” 

Fuck. He knew Eddie would be home, he saw his van in the driveway after all, but Steve still hoped he’d be out or that one of the guys swung by and picked him up. It’s not like he could hide this from him, but it would be nice to have a bit more time to figure out his story. Because Eddie finding out means Steve has to admit he was wrong in the first place. 

“Yeah,” he calls back as he tugs off his lone boot, his other one is still on the floorboard of his car, and sets the crutches down beside him. He lifts his broken leg up, the action stiff with how awkward and new the cast feels and quickly covers it with a blanket. It’ll buy him some time. 

“I was wondering where you went,” Eddie says as he slides into the living room on his socks. He’s already in his sleepwear: one of Steve’s old shirts, Steve’s favorite sweatpants that are too big for him, and Steve’s gym socks. It hits him that he won’t be able to wear Eddie’s sweats, the ones he’s stretched out and are so thin they may as well be threads held together by dreams, until he gets this cast off. Well shit. 

Eddie pauses for just a moment before he’s walking over and sitting on the ottoman in front of Steve. “You’re wearing your coat still,” he says.” 

Steve shrugs and hugs his chest. “I’m cold.” 

“Why don’t you go shower and warm up?” Eddie asks, face neutral but his eyes tell a different story. He’s suspicious. How is he already catching on? Steve’s like the king of stealth. 

“I don’t feel like washing my hair right now,” he says instead. “I just want to lay here for a bit.” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “It’s Thursday,” Eddie says, “it’s your hair washing day according to your meticulous hair schedule. And you don’t want to wash it?” 

Steve can only shrug again. “Maybe later?” 

“Right, right,” Eddie says. He leans forward and kisses him all sweetly. Eddie brushes a hand through Steve’s hair and it nearly brings him to tears, if he’s honest. His body is sore, there’s probably a bruise the size of Alaska on his back and ass, and his leg is starting to hurt more now that his meds are wearing off. It’s been a harrowing few hours of trying to get to the hospital, being seen and dealing with the horrors of doctors and nurses touching him (he can’t even begin to think about how he’ll react to getting the cast removed, the saw too much like the one the Russian wanted to use–), and now that it’s all over and Eddie’s being sweet… Steve just wants to give up the charade.

“Baby,” Eddie says softly, “talk to me.” 

Steve looks up, blinking away the tears and leans into Eddie’s touch. “I fell,” he mumbles, cheeks hot. It’s so humiliating. He’s a grown man. So he fell? Big deal. But he fell doing a thing that Eddie told him he should probably wait to take care of until someone else could spot the ladder, that Steve made a bigger deal about doing it solo because he’s Steve. 

“On the ice?” 

He shakes his head and drops his eyes back down to Eddie’s. He watches in real time as Eddie realizes what Steve means, as confusion morphs into shock then concern. “Stevie,” he whispers, “how bad is your leg?” 

Steve pauses. “How did you know it was my leg?” 

Eddie pointedly looks at the crutches leaning against the arm of the couch. Oh. 

He sighs. “It's a clean break,” he says. “But I broke my tibula.” 

“Your tibia or your fibula?” Eddie asks, no judgment in his words. 

“Honestly, couldn’t tell you. Paperwork is in my bag though.” 

Eddie laughs softly and leans forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. “I’ll look later. How are you feeling?” 

“Everything hurts,” he says with only the hint of a whine. It’s like he’s accidentally given his body permission to feel everything. Steve reaches for the blanket, tugging it off his leg to show his foot and knee wrapped in a cast. “I have to wear it for two months.” 

“Shit, Stevie,” Eddie says, moving to squeeze himself onto the edge of the sofa. He leans over Steve, boxing him in. “You know, you’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he takes Steve’s face in his hands, “if you want to grow old together like you’re always talking about, then you’ve got to actually get there. And that starts with taking care of yourself.” 

Steve sighs. “I can take care of myself–” 

“But let me help,” Eddie says, leaning forward again to kiss Steve’s forehead. “Not because you need it, but because I want to. Why make things harder on yourself just to prove a point?” 

He doesn’t have much to say to that. 

Eddie pushes himself up and stands. “I know you wanted to make a roast for dinner, but want to get take out and smoke some? May help with the aches?” 

Steve nods and scoots forward so he can wrestle his way out of his coat. “You can’t baby me the whole time I’m in this cast, by the way.” 

“Oh, I could,” Eddie says, “but I do actually want to stay together by the time you get it off, so I’ll let you do some things by yourself.” He takes Steve’s jacket and grabs a few pillows to prop up Steve’s leg. “Will you let me take care of you tonight, though?” 

He feels so helpless and embarrassed to need the help, but with the way Eddie’s looking at him, Steve can’t tell him no. “Please?” 

Eddie beams as he basically skips to the coat closet. 

All Steve can do is watch as Eddie flits around the house: getting the good cuddling blankets and the pillows off their bed, grabbing his lunchbox, bringing Steve a pop to drink, all while he orders food from their favorite takeout place, phone sandwiched against his ear. 

He hates how nice it feels to be taken care of, especially over something as silly as a broken leg from a dumb mistake. Who takes down Christmas lights by themselves after a frost? Knowing their ladder is finicky at best on a good day? He was asking to fall off the roof! He should be glad he didn’t break more than his leg! 

But it’s a little easier to let it happen than it had been when they first started dating. He’s not perfect, he can be too proud sometimes, but he’s working on it. 

---

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing this fic!

Ao3 Link

[queenshelby]

An Illicit Affair

Part 34: Unable to cope

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Three weeks later

It was Monday, again, and you woke up to the soft light of dawn. The room was quiet and, just like every other morning, your breakfast was already waiting for you on the bedside table.

Your mother was downstairs, cleaning the kitchen and, every now and then, you could hear the faint sound of her humming to herself as she worked.

You sighed, stretching your muscles as you took in your surroundings before attempting to sit up in order to make your way to the bathroom.

Your wheelchair was waiting for you, right next to the bed. You had started to use it two weeks ago, immediately after you had been discharged from Liverpool Hospital and, whilst you were given crutches as well, using them was still too painful for you. 

"Fuck," you muttered as you carefully maneuvered your body into the chair, trying to avoid hitting any of your stitches, but your emotions got the better of you once again.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated at the limitations your injury had placed on you, at the grueling physical therapy that left you in a constant state of pain and exhaustion. At the fact that you missed out on your career, your dreams and aspirations to become a doctor for now, your life being put on hold.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you tried to compose yourself, to push through the despair that threatened to overwhelm you. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, rolling down your cheeks in quiet, steady streams.

Your body shook with the force of your sobs, but you didn't try to stifle the sound. You let yourself cry, letting out all of the emotions that had been building up inside of you for the past few weeks. It was a release, a moment of raw vulnerability that left you feeling both exhausted and strangely relieved.

"Sweetheart, hang on," your mother said, hearing the sound of your cries from downstairs and rushing up to see you. "What's going on?"

You shook your head, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. "Nothing. I just...I am fucking sick of this. I don't want to do this anymore," you admitted, your voice trembling as you tried to keep yourself together.

Your mother nodded, a sad expression crossing her features as she took a seat next to you on the bed. "I know it's hard, sweetheart, but you need to be patient," she told you before helping you to the bathroom.

"You have therapy at noon, and you'll feel much better after a shower. Now come on," she reassured you, her voice soothing as she helped you on to the toilet which, in itself, was embarrassing enough for you to dread visiting the bathroom.

You sighed, nodding as you looked down at your hands, still trembling slightly from the force of your emotions.

"I hate this," you muttered quietly, not expecting your mother to hear you, but she did.

"I know you do, sweetheart, but it's going to get better," she reassured you, her voice steady and confident as, after you were done, she helped you into the shower where a small white chair awaited you.

"I am not going to therapy today," you told her, not wanting to endure it anymore.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further, knowing that you needed time to process everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"Let me help you wash up first and get you dressed, then we can talk about it," she said, carefully soaping your body while trying to avoid touching any of your wounds.

"There is no need to talk about it mum. I am not going. I mean, what even is the point, huh?" you growled while looking at the large scar covering your abdomen  . "Why did this have to happen to me? I had it all and now, I'm left with this."

Your mother sighed heavily, her gaze briefly flicking down to your belly before meeting your eyes once more. "Y/N, you can still have a good life. There are so many people out there who love and care about you. And yes, it might seem like everything is falling apart right now, but trust me, you will get through this."

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to boil over as you fought the urge to break down in tears again.

You knew that your mother was right, that there were still people who loved and cared about you, but it didn't make the pain of losing your dreams any less acute.

"I know that there are people out there who still care about me, mum. I do. But I also can't deny the fact that I feel like a completely different person now," you whispered softly, the weight of your words heavy on your chest as you tried to put into words the turmoil of emotions that had been plaguing you since the accident.

"You know Cillian called for you yesterday, to see if you were alright," she told you, her voice gentle as she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself from breaking down in tears once more. 

"Are you going to call him back?"  your mother asked carefully as she wrapped a fluffy white towel around your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning against her for support as you tried to gather your thoughts. The mention of Cillian's name brought back a flood of emotions that you had been trying to suppress for the past few weeks. The memories of his touch, his voice, and the way he looked at you - all threatening to overwhelm you with a longing that you weren't sure you were ready to face.

"I don't know," you finally replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you looked away, unable to meet your mother's gaze and the truth was that, ever since you left the hospital in London, you were ignoring his calls and messages. "He should move on and find someone who isn't broken," you added, the weight of your words heavy in the air between you as you thought about the many interviews and media engagements on TV lately where he did well to pretend that everything was fine. He was promoting his new movie Oppenheimer again just before the upcoming Award Season and Oscars in three months, for which you now knew he received a nomination. 

"Y/N, that is not true. You are not broken," your mother said, and whilst she did not approve of your relationship with Cillian, she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you as she saw the pain that lingered in your eyes.

"Then fucking look at me! Look at me, mum!" you demanded, your frustration and anger boiling over as you gestured towards your scarred body with a trembling hand. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up at your mother, pleading with her to understand the depth of your pain and confusion. You knew that you sounded harsh and unkind, but you couldn't help it. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you couldn't find a way to make sense of it all.

Your mother did just that - she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and understanding while she helped you to get dressed. 

"I see you, Y/N. I see the pain and the struggle that you are going through, but I also see the strength and resilience that lies within you. You have always been a fighter and I have no doubt that you will overcome this," she said, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement as you let yourself fall back into the wheelchair before searching for some valium.  You needed to calm yourself down, to take the edge off of the overwhelming emotions that had taken hold of you.

"Thank you, mum," you whispered softly, taking a deep breath as you tried to push down the anxiety and despair that had settled over you like a shroud.

Your mother nodded, her eyes full of understanding as she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to start making lunch now. Do you want anything in particular?" she asked, her voice gentle as she looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern.

"I am not hungry mum. I haven't even eaten my breakfast yet. I will just go back to bed, okay?" you told your mother, feeling utterly dejected. Your voice was small and barely above a whisper, but she heard you clearly.

"You need to eat something, sweetheart. And you need to go to your therapy sessions and treatment sessions. I cannot keep cancelling them for you," your mother said, her tone firm and unyielding, but you shook your head at her suggestions and demands.  "I do not want to go, mum. I am so fucking tired," you replied, your voice heavy with exhaustion and sadness. Your throat felt raw and sore from the force of your earlier sobs, but you refused to let your mother see you break down again. You couldn't bear the thought of her seeing you like that, it felt too vulnerable, too exposing.

You wheeled yourself away from her, back towards the bed and your mother simply sighed before, finally, giving up and heading back downstairs to call your father. She knew you needed space, that the past few weeks had taken a toll on you, but it didn't make her any less worried.

***

"I don't know what to do with her," she told him  later that day after he got home, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and frustration as she looked out at the rain beyond the window.

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking to where you were lying on the couch, your eyes glued to the TV as your fingers traced absentmindedly over the scar on your belly.

"She's been through a lot, love. Give it time," he said gently, but your mother shook her head.

"I know she's been through a lot, but this isn't like her," your mother explained. "She refuses to see the physiotherapist, she refuses to see the psychologist and she is taking too much valium," she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of worry and grief. 

Your father nodded, a frown etching itself onto his face as he watched you from where he stood, your eyes glued to the TV , lost in some drama you've probably watched a million times.

"Have you tried to confront her about it?" he asked, trying to reason with your mother and, of course, she nodded.  "Yes, I have. But she just shuts down and tells me to mind my own business. She has been isolating herself from us and from the rest of the world. She hasn't even had contact with..." your mother began to say, wiping away a rogue tear that had escaped her eye, just as your father interrupted her. 

"Don't you dare say his name in my house," he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger as he looked towards your mother. She recoiled at the intensity of his gaze before she continued. "If it wasn't for this man, she wouldn't be in this situation!" your father growled, his voice low and dangerous as he glared at your mother. "She needs time to heal and figure things out on her own. She doesn't need him complicating matters further," he added before pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his anger palpable in every line of his body.

Your mother sighed, shaking her head as she looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I know, but I actually think that she could benefit from his presence at the moment. He called last night, and it sounded like he's really worried about her, and I am worried too," your mother reasoned, her voice soft and understanding as she looked at your father with a mixture of pleading and hope in her eyes.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. He knew that your mother was right - Cillian's presence could be just the thing that you needed. But something in him rebelled at the thought of it.

He had always been the overprotective father, and the thought of his little girl getting tangled up in a rather messy relationship with a man who was even older than him, made his gut twist in a way he couldn't quite explain.

"Fine," he finally conceded, nodding his head in agreement before looking at your mother. "Call him and ask him to come up to Liverpool for a week. Maybe he can get through to her and make her take her treatments seriously," he told your mother, his jaw set firmly in determination as he looked at her. "But there is no fucking way this man is staying here over night. He needs to organize himself some accommodation in town," your father added, his voice firm and unwavering.

"We do have a guestroom, you know," your mother countered, her eyebrows raised in a challenge. "It would be good for him to be here when she has a breakdown again. Maybe it will help," your mother replied gently, knowing that she was pushing the limits of her husband's patience. She had seen the way Cillian looked at you in hospital, and she knew that he cared for you deeply. 

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking towards the couch where you were still lying in silence.

"Fine," he relented, his voice filled with a mixture of reluctance and resignation. "He can stay in the guestroom," he confirmed and your mother nodded, relief flooding her features as she moved towards your father and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you. I know it's not ideal, and that it goes against every protective instinct you have as a father and a man of faith, but I truly believe this is what she needs right now," your mother told him before, without your knowledge, making the call. 

Tags:

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[ojbrush]

hfjONE spoilers ahead !!! dont read if you havent really seen the show

heres a Link to the show if you are interested, its really good! and i reccommend watching it :3 and with that, allow me to ramble. Canonically, Airy views Liam as a friend. Being desensitized and isolated from communication with others for more than 13 years fucked up his perception of people, meaning he thinks of Liam's actions toward him as friendly, as that's basically all he's ever gotten since. Hostility. He views Liams hostility and yelling and aggressiveness and attempted murder on him as signs of friendship. He doesnt realize Liam doesnt like him whatsoever. He doesnt realize that that isnt what friends do. Friends don't try and kill you, friends dont attack you with only hatred just oozing out of every word they say, every action they take. But he doesnt realize that, and which results in him helping Liam even after his attempt at murdering the guy. Regardless of the way Liam treats him, he still helped Liam by giving him a cast for his broken leg, and giving him bedding.

Airy even gave this guy crutches as well, just like before when he broke his leg. Hes mentally unwell, hes apathetic and doesnt seem to care about most things from being isolated and desensitized to everything. Disassociating when Liam yells at him, derealizing CONSTANTLY. People in the fandom view him as a heartless monster whos deranged and only wants to spread pain and suffering, which is also LIAMS view on him. But thats not true.

(as Liam yells at him, he just stares blankly. No real reaction and movement during the time Liam's voice is raised. He finally responds once Liam says "end this, now." with a bunch of apparent hesitance.) Hes just a guy in a world where theres absolutely nobody but him, isolated from contact with other people, desensitized and forgetting who he even was before. He doesnt realize his actions are wrong, and he doesnt realize that when people are being hostile toward him, they do not like him. He does realizes people were scared, he said it himself. "Once they were on the planet, they all seemed pretty scared, so..." (as said in ONE 17: You move, I send.) He doesn't completely ignore peoples emotions, and tries to make it better for them. But he doesn't realize the way he's doing it is wrong. incorrect, a bad way to fix things. Besides, after creating ONE, the contestants were nothing BUT hostile toward him; so he doesn't know anything else. That's all h'es EVER known. Of course it is warranted, and he very much deserves the hostility. Kidnapping people and keeping them to compete in his gameshow against their wills, but he's more than that. What he did was wrong, insanely wrong, but he didn't know that. It doesn't excuse his actions, but it sure as hell explains them. Airy isn't an insane, deranged kidnapper. He's just a guy who's been isolated for too long, and doesn't understand the difference from right and wrong, and he doesn't understand basic human emotions other than his own. Lack of empathy, if you will.

It's just a sad case of isolation and a slowly deteriorating mental state in which results in the suffering of others due to someone (Airy, in this case) slowly becoming someone they dont even recognise themself.

After all, i bet this man doesn't even remember his own name. this was just a senseless ramble i am so incredbily unmotivated for art right now so take me and my insane rambles </3

[ekat-fandom-blog]

Personal canons are the canon everyone has created based on the canon and fanon content they've consumed.

Expansion not necessary. I just wanted to add my thoughts.

1. Examples range from wanting to wrap his drinks in a web before drinking them to wanting to fall asleep curled up in the back corner of his closet. No, it doesn't matter which Spider-Man.

2. This one is just my perception of the two. There's nothing I can actually tell you about this other than the vibes seem to match.

3. The headcanon of Poison Ivy eating mostly meat is fun. (Not fully carnivore because I think she'd also eat plants because it's necessary to eat both to be a healthy human and can be healthy for the environment if done in moderation). I decided to combine it with Danny Phantom for this because I haven't seen anyone do it before. So, Ivy being mostly carnivorous and Sam being ultra-recyclo-vegetarian would be appalled at each others diets.

4. Cyborg's connected to a supercomputer created by a more scientifically advanced society, while Barbara is a human (I specified her because she's the best Bat at hacking.) Her being the best hacker in the universe is a stretch at best. There's gotta be computer languages she's unable to decipher because it's so different to any on earth. (I don't think anyone from earth should be able to hack cyborg or the mother/father boxes.) If your supercomputer can be hacked by the equivalent of a preteen with a 2010 samsung who doesn't even recognise the coding language you used, then you didn't create a supercomputer. (Mother/father boxes are sentient, autonomous computers btw.)

5. Young Justice was good. Great. It just seemed to stop caring as much about having the new audience learn about the characters after season 2. I wouldn't know who Razer is if I didn't watch Green Lantern: The Animated Series. I stopped having emotional connections with the characters by season 4 and they stopped wrapping up storylines in an emotionally fulfilling manor after season 2. As someone who never read any comic books except for Spider-man/Deadpool and a few green lantern ones and one batman and spider-man crossover, I don't care about the characters they shove into the show and expect everyone to care about.

6. I get it. The "he won't stop if he does it once" was only in one comic (apparently) and the comic was written by someone that (apparently) most of the fandom doesn't like. I don't care. Every reason he has for not killing is valid and coexists. He collects reasons to not kill like it's gold and he's a dragon. The only reason that is invalid and can't coexist is that he doesn't care enough about the people that could get hurt or killed to permanently stop people like Joker, Bane, or Scarecrow.

7. It makes sense if they were the two to get touch starved easily. Dick grew up in a circus where everyone was presumably pretty tight knit and Tim grew up in a home where appearance mattered more than feelings. But also they happen to be the characters I like to torture.

8. Strange is petty and I 100% believe that Tony started it. (Stephen is finishing it though.)

9. Freddy Freeman can't walk without crutches and flies in the comics. (I haven't read them, tho) I feel like it's erasing disabled peoples' struggles when they just give him the ability to walk in his hero form. Let him be a little flying guy who never touches the ground.

10. It's a comic thing again. I just think it's more interesting. (I found pages of captain marvel comics in google images and tumblr.)

[dairy-farmer]

You know that au you have where Bruce kept Tim in a basement? Can we see Bruce come back and everyone’s reactions? Or a new au with a not brain damaged Tim who Bruce keeps locked up because he’s so paranoid he’ll lose Tim like Jason? .,,, and Tim doesn’t mind Bruce locks him up like a Princess and Bruce is the dragon?

!!!! it's been a while since i thought of this dark au!!!! in the au where the family takes in tim, who they find out has more or less been a captive pet for bruce for years, they'd 100% be much less warm to bruce when he returns.

without tim having been around as robin, he was never there to be this kind of...gel padding for bruce and his kids. it's sort of implied that bruce and dick's relationship never fully recovered because it was tim as robin that facilitated that healing relationship. but tim was never around here. so that means dick really only returned for jason and damian. since there was no robin after him jason was a little more receptive to reconciliation but he also would've had a pretty split dislike for damian. he'd dislike him deeply because he's robin and because talia blindsided him with it but he'd also be more aware of damian's young age so it would kind of even him out.

so in general, all their relationships are a little fucked. but they did all feel pained when bruce died. they were upset that they lost out on the possibility of ever improving their relationship to him and getting closer. but here, since bruce always had tim one on one and used him as a sort of crutch with the fact that he was a son that loved him unconditionally- i think that would've made it so bruce wasn't exactly in the healthiest state of mind and therefore didn't reach out to his children as much as he could've or should've because he had tim there to fill that void of having a child that loved him and that allowed him to love them in return.

despite tim's more childlike state that resulted from brain damage that was bruce's fault, he is still at his core very much tim. so he sees the beginnings of clues that the rest of the family does not. the portrait of 'mordecai wayne' that tim obsesses over is a portrait of bruce and if the rest of the family had given tim more consideration they would've recognized it. but they don't so bruce isn't rescued for several more years.

a combination of different capes all note how something is off in the timeline, that there are...snags in the fabric of time. one report turns to two turns to five turns to ten.

eventually a common factor is found. evidence of...bats.

capes have come back from the dead before and it shouldn't be such a shock but still....superman orders that no one tell any of the bats in gotham until they're certain. but then they have bruce sitting in the medical bay. emaciated and heavily traumatized.

it's like a bomb is dropped on the family when they're told.

mixed emotions, heavy feelings, struggling with feeling relieved and happy while also being furious and upset because they know about tim.

tim who has become a sweet and beloved member of the family.

a lot of capes still don't know about him, the media definitely doesn't because dick was half certain that jason would bomb their offices if a single bad word about tim was published. and also because...dick feels some odd...shame about tim. he feels an urge to hide him away, to not let others know tim is in his care and is....special.

dick knows it's wrong. he knows it's wrong to feel that way about tim while also...taking advantage of him. dick knows he's scum as jason never fails to remind him, harshly whispering to him in the kitchen while tim is in the other room and saying that dick is a piece of shit for being one of those people that are embarrassed about having disabled siblings.

but the shame never leaves him and dick can never shake it off.

it's dick who goes up to the watchtower to watch over bruce while he recovers.

partly because he has the authority to, he's batman afterall, even though dick as batman has pulled away from the league and focused more on gotham. and partly because...he needs to see this man he thought he knew so well. he's spent years trying to figure out what bruce had been thinking, trying to get in his head, and trying to understand what had been going through his mind when he...he took a child.

a perfectly normal and average child. and yet when tim had been rescued from bruce's care he'd had....several healed fractures and bone breaks.

eventually, leslie had been able to conduct a thorough health examination. that's when they'd found the old injuries. injuries that were years old. a spinal injury, broken ribs, a wrist that had split clean through, the head injury that occurred at the same time that leslie said was likely the result of a drop from a big height.

when she said that dick thought back to bruce's common tactic of dangling people by their ankles from fire escapes. dick had never thought of it before but...what if....what if bruce didn't catch one of them in time?

based on tim's early medical file leslie concluded that tim may have suffered a brain bleed as a result of the fall. that would explain his delay in cognition and rendered child-like state.

it's not the first time that bruce had rendered permanent injury on someone but...but this was a kid. what on earth could tim have done to have earned this kind of punishment? and then to keep him?

to keep him from his family who died thinking he was missing? to chain him up and hide him away like he was...like he was an animal?

it was so much crueler than dick had ever thought bruce capable.

tim loved bruce. it was clear in how he referred to him with so much affection and nuzzled pictures of him. but dick couldn't exactly trust tim's words when tim was so susceptible to manipulation.

jason and damian were still having a hard time with news of bruce's return so dick had made the executive decision to go to the watchtower alone and give the rest of the family time to....come to terms with the fact that bruce was back.

dick does his best to monitor and control his emotions as bruce regains strength. as he talks about how happy he is to see dick again.

dick keeps all the emotions in check. the questions, the shouts that want to burst out of him.

bruce is everything he remembered him as but also...not. there's a new side of him dick had never seen before and now he can't ignore it.

dick talks tentatively about alfred and jason and damian, barbara, and cass and gotham.

bruce is still quite weak. confused as well. dick has entire conversations with him but then two minutes later bruce will completely forget about it.

bruce gets cleared to return home. dick receives care instructions and a bunch of medication for bruce.

dick does not mention tim. does not breathe a word of him.

he's not sure what he's expecting bruce's reaction to be when they walk through the front door of the manor and tim, who'd been sitting quietly playing with toys, is suddenly up and squealing and running to bruce with jubilant calls of 'daddy!'.

dick was maybe expecting shame. guilt. shock that his dirty little secret was out and blowing in the open.

he doesn't expect bruce to muster every bit of his strength and lift a giggling tim up like a father greeting their toddler after a long day of work.

tim wraps his arms and legs around bruce, clinging and laughing as bruce spins them around. tim's mouth is stained purple, likely from a popsicle, though bruce doesn't appear to care, leaning into tim's kisses to his cheeks.

dick feels a wad of cotton fill his throat as he tries to ignore the memory of tim's sticky, candy sweet mouth on his, little tongue pressing against dick's while dick is pressing him into the bed and softly fucking him while the rest of the family is out.

it's quite a flip on what dick had been expecting. that bruce is the one basking in a happy reunion while dick stands nearby swimming with guilt and self-hatred.

the rest of the family follows quickly behind tim's bubbly giggles that usually only happen when jason blows rasberries into his tummy.

dick can see the split among them. the tense feelings for bruce knowing about tim. and the affection for tim and seeing him so happy in bruce's arms.

bruce knows that they know about tim. he might be a little slow at the moment but the league doctors said he should be much better in a few months. there's no way that bruce doesn't remember how he'd left tim.

there's no way he's unaware how tim could've died a slow, terrifying death by starving to death in that bunker because what if dick had never found that key? what if he'd just brushed it into a garbage bag? what then?

tim didn't even know how to use the can opener! he'd been so hungry when they found him. he'd eaten two grilled cheese and half a sleeve of oreos. or worse. what if he'd hurt himself all alone in that bunker? dick had gone back down to get some of tim's things and found a dulled paring knife in one of the drawers. none of the knobs on the little countertop stove had been childproofed. what if tim had cut himself? what if he'd turned the gas on? granted tim was very good at following rules and had never once tried to touch the stove but alfred had insisted on proofing it just in case.

so many things could've happened to tim before dick reached him. a million things could've happened to tim if dick had never found that key by chance.

by chance, he always repeated to himself hysterically. it was pure luck that tim was rescued in time and dick thinks he just can't shake that off.

dick thinks about that sometimes. he has nightmares of finding that bunker years too late and only finding a skeleton. he thinks about bruce returning and being disoriented and confusing his family with his strange words and calls for 'tim' and his insistence to visit his bunker and only then do they find about his secret other son.

and even now tim is still a secret. aside from his own internalized struggle, dick couldn't just waltz into a courthouse and adopt a missing child who had been presumed dead. if anyone...if the gcpd or the media ever found out about tim there would be a lot of uncomfortable questions they'd need to answer that bruce's 'eccentric billionaire' persona wouldn't have gotten them out of.

they're tough thoughts made worse by dick's own guilt that had only grown over the years about what he's been doing to tim.

jason hates him for never having accepted tim as a little brother. damian had even tentatively broached the topic about it once.

but how could he? how could dick think of tim as his little brother when dick violates him on a weekly basis?

it used to be nightly. but then dick learned to resist. learned to stop going somewhere alone with tim and fucking his pretty little slit.

sometimes jason would force dick to take tim out for ice cream. some attempt to get them to bond. but dick would inevitably pull over to the side of the road, some patch of woods, and he'd fuck tim in the backseats, watching him squirm on his cock and make little keens and noises of pleasure.

then dick would pick up ice cream for them and it would be so much worse because he felt like a predator buying his victim a treat to keep him quiet.

over the years it became clear that jason had not been participating in these...acts. not like dick was.

and that's when dick figured it out. what bruce had likely done with tim in the bunker (dick was made certain when he made a third trip to the bunker and found the nearly empty box of condoms in tim's little bathroom right next to his toothpaste).

bruce was the reason tim knew how to ride a cock, how he knew a cock in his pussy felt good and why his little hole ached to be full.

it was his fault. it was yet another thing that was bruce's fault. it was his fault that dick had become this...this type of man.

dick wants to hate him. despite him.

but aren't they the same now?

maybe that's why dick isn't as harsh on bruce when he returns. why he isn't as cold as the rest of the family, why he doesn't have a screaming match like jason does asking what the fuck was wrong with bruce.

because if bruce was fucked up then so was dick.

the two of them are two fucked individuals. two people swallowed up by batman and made more twisted for it. the father and the son made in his image.

when dick walks into bruce's room in the middle of the night to find tim naked and on top of bruce, sweet body grinding and whining as bruce's cock pumps in and out of him- dick can't find a single shred of him that is horrified.

the only emotion he feels is relief.

relief that he's no longer alone in the horror that is being himself.

[gaiathemexicanbeauty]

that love is like a star | auggie x winnie (cold front)

word count: 1.4k warnings: angst with comfort?, fluff, unrequited love for a grand total of 2 seconds, winnie fell first but auggie fell harder, but auggie's a little dumb so he doesn't realize his feelings, when he does ITS A DOOZY FOR HIM

takes place after the events of the game (don't ask how long after)

based off of star by mitski :)

as always, beta read by my good friend who i had to bounce ideas off of bc i love to yap and knew all too well this was gonna be really long

auggie was the one winnie always wanted. he knew now that auggie didn't like that name, 'auggie' made his estranged friend sound and feel like he was 9 instead of 19. but auggie was the same in his mind: the kid who came to see him with no intention of befriending him, the kid who told him he was whiney and that he needed to stand up for himself. THAT was his auggie. he was in love to say the least. winnie saw him all the time, trudging around with barely a soul to pay him any mind while he was bombarded by praise and affection just for breathing most times. he was grateful and definitely enjoyed it, he'd never been the person people were eager to please or to get his attention. even still, whenever people looked for him, winnie wished it was auggie.

now that he was so close to him, though, all those emotions came bursting up to the surface and winnie wasn't going to let this chance pass him by. after going through his own rehabilitation, he wasn't at all opposed to being the one to help auggie go through his own; "it's just my leg, i don't need you to hold my hand." auggie had said to his friend, his fingers stiff as winnie intertwined them with his (this was to help him sit without his crutches according to winnie). now, rehabilitation included the two of them doing a brief workout every morning, curated specifically for auggie to join along too. just the two of them. back to square one.

auggie wasn't the kind to do this (at least not anymore), early morning workouts or afternoon jogs: he wasn't playing hockey anymore so what was the point? more than anything, though, he was doing this for the sake of winnie. they didn't talk about it much after the incident, whatever they had seen or wherever they had been, finally confronting each other about their past mistakes, their distance. winnie would make the occasional joke about it that auggie would simply wave off, ignoring the twist in his stomach he'd get remembering it all. why did it take him that long to say all this? why did it take a life threatening situation for winnie to say something, what were they supposed to do with all that lost time? summer was almost over and auggie still felt like that wasn't enough time to say everything he wanted to. and he wasn't going to. that was winnie's department, anyway.

winnie huffs as he plops down on to the humid driveway, water bottle in hand as auggie trails behind him. he slowly sits next to his friend, still careful with his leg after getting his cast off that morning. "come on, you're good now! don't act like you're this fragile little thing now." winnie says as he nudges him, earning a hum from auggie as he throws his towel over his neck to let it hang there. summer afternoons made the days end sooner, the sun already setting and a soft breeze starting to blow in. "so. this is it, then?" "what's ''it'?" auggie lifts his head from looking down at the sidewalk, looking over at winnie and raising an eyebrow at him; the pout on his face is hard to ignore. "we're not gonna work out together anymore since your leg is all healed." he says, resting his chin on his knees as he looks out at the rest of the neighborhood that would look deserted if it weren't the house lights up and down the road. auggie isn't sure what to say to that, leaning back on his hands as his eyebrows furrow.

"who says so? you really gonna ditch me just because i'm not using crutches anymore?" "no way, how could you do thaat!? i want to hang out with you until i leave, forever if possible!" winnie says, throwing his arms around his friend and squeezing him. auggie tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat as he makes a weak attempt at getting out of his embrace, mumbling something under his breath about him being sweaty but not doing anything else to push him away. there's a pause of silence as they sit so close, their chests rising and falling almost in sync; they were both grateful the other couldn't seem to pick up the feeling of their heart racing. "would you still come by? to hang out?" auggie is quiet, swallowing thickly as he rolls the question over in his mind. he'd never thought about that, really, this became routine to him and the idea of not doing it anymore was...odd? after spending so much time with him again, things almost felt normal between them. almost.

auggie shrugs, looking down at his shoelaces. "yeah, sure." he says, unaware of the way winnie's heart soars in his chest at those words alone. they're quiet again and auggie thinks he's lucked out before winnie scoots over to sit in front of him and holds his pinky out between the two of them. "pinky promise it, then." he was uncharacteristically stern and would maybe look threatening if it weren't for his wide eyes and the beauty marks littered on his face; it also didn't help that he barely ever took things seriously. "we're not 12 anymore, winnie, i'm not doing that." auggie mumbles, resting his arms on his knees as he looks at his friend with his usual expression of disinterest. "come onnn, humor me!" he begs, wagging his pinky at auggie before he rolls his eyes and wraps his pinky with his. "there? happy?" he says as he raises an eyebrow, pulling his hand away a moment later than he should have.

he barely has time to react before winnie suddenly throws himself into auggie, pulling him into a much tighter and much closer embrace than before. their legs are thrown over each other's waists as auggie's arms are left hanging uselessly in the air, trying to ignore the way winnie's hands grab at his shirt. "winnie, seriously, i live across the street, i-" "let me say something!" auggie stops talking and sighs, hesitantly laying his chin on winnie's shoulder as he gathers his thoughts. they sit in silence and for a minute, it almost feels like winnie is going to back off. instead, he mumbles something, something that maybe if he wasn't burying his face in auggie's shoulder would have been louder.

"what?" more incoherent mumbling and auggie finally huffs in frustration: it's the only thing he can do considering his position (and the way he'd wrapped his arms around winnie by default). "what's up with you-" "ILIKEYOU" if the neighborhood wasn't made up of houses and the air didn't carry away his words, winnie's words surely would have left an echo or even a mark of some kind. auggie's quiet; really, he hasn't processed what winnie just said and has half the mind to ask him to repeat himself one more time and ask him once again why wait. what. "you-" auggie literally blinks once before winnie's lips are pressed against his.

his eyes go wide and he swears he can hear the roar of his blood rushing to his head. his fingers twitch against winnie's back, sensing how stiff he is: he's nervous. winnie, the one he had so long ago taught (albeit unknowingly) almost step by step to make friends and charm people, was nervous. doing this. with him. he could be doing this with anyone else. but winnie was kissing him, auggie, close to the end of summer vacation with the sun almost past the horizon, and he was kissing him like his life depended on it. all his thinking consumes him and before it even slips his mind to show some kind of reciprocation, winnie's pulling away. his own wide eyes grow impossibly wider when auggie's lips seem to try and follow his before stopping midway when he realizes what he's doing.

winnie tries to meet his friend's gaze (could he still call him that?), a hint of a smile tugging at his lips when auggie refuses to look at him. more silence, the same silence that had been practically killing him only moments ago. knowing his stubbornness, auggie knows he can't avoid winnie much longer (especially not if they were still sitting this close together): for a second, he wishes he regretted looking at him or regretted the way winnie dove in for what would be one of many kisses.

I KNOW I SAID I WAS GONNA DO ANOTHER PROMPT FOR MY WRITING CHALLENGE BUTTTT

me and my friends have gotten into the studio investigrave games (bc of dead plate hehehehe) and we also went crazy over winnie and auggie

I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS, i don't see alot of options fanfic wise for really ANY of the studio investigrave games AND I HAD TO CHANGE THAT

[hel-phoenyx]

It is over.

Around me, behind me, everywhere, there's only death and blood. I am sitting on a graveyard where the bodies are not even buried.

People say it is the reality of war. But what I have witnessed is not war. It is slaughter. One-sided, cruel, revolting slaughter. The kind born from betrayal and trust reduced to ashes.

My life is slipping away. Arrows are covering my body, one of them planted in my breast, too close from my heart. My blood run black, proof I am no longer controlling my magic. My curse is running out, tainting everything around me, but it is no use caring about this, for I am sat only on mangled bodies.

My hand run through feathers, obsidian black only broken by the purple-red of blood. Nru, under her owl form. She took me far away from the fights, before a wyrm got her in flight. I survived only because she was there to cushion my fall.

A sacrifice I fear would be useless. Because there they are, standing in front of me. Paper's new official leader, the one we put on the lead by killing everything standing in his way, including my own brother. The girl, tears in her eyes, falling on the ground like crystals, as she can't move an inch except her mouth to announce our death sentence.

And him.

The only one smiling.

His magic is the only one active. Of course. Who knows how he managed to escape the incantation that stopped every flux, almost killed Kal and made the one I love disappear. All I know is that he needs it, to manipulate the girl in his crutches, holding a power I have never seen before.

His bow is in his hands, an arrow notched. He's ready to kill me, I know it. He only doesn't because he wants to make me suffer.

I am not suffering anymore. I just feel empty.

"Adam. How kind of you to show yourself in person."

"Well, you were kind enough to eliminate all the threats. Thanks to you, I finally have access to Ourania, and to the Word of Death."

His smile gets even wider. Hungry. Cruel.

"Oh, but I guess you don't know who she is. It was Paper's best kept secret, after all. The king had sealed her prison, afraid of the power she held. His death broke it."

His hand runs on the cheeks of the girl, that doesn't move, still crying, still mute. She looks like she's trying so hard to fight the physical and mental control Adam has on her, yet, not hard enough.

It's complicated to feel pity when a single syllabe killed so many of my men, my friends, my loved ones. Yet my heart can't help but ache seeing her in so much pain. She's fighting so fiercely after the slaughter he made her do.

I don't spare any of that compassion to the other one next to her. Blonde, eyes adorned with dark and devoid of emotion, Faloi is standing there, sword in hand. He took the lead of the army, officialy, he was the one announcing the attack when the army walked on us in droves. I know now he's under a spell. I don't care the slightest.

I just look at the true responsible of the carnage I stand in the middle of.

"I suppose you will kill me, now. Go ahead. I don't have much to live, anyway."

"I could. But it wouldn't be funny. You still have much to tell me, and much to do for me, Asura, my dear. Starting with the localisation of the queen."

His eyes fill with hate when he utters that last word. The queen. With the original royal family dead, Draco's original lineage is no more, the current queen holds nothing of their former power ; but before being the queen, she is Lina Frosilaen.

And Adam Frosilaen can't bear to see his little sister, the favorite daughter, alive somewhere.

All the other siblings are dead. Nru is under me. Makhai and Kami were reduced to ashes, with Death's Word, Death invoked and controlled by that girl, that Ourania. Phoebe and Niall died in the fighting. Now the only siblings left are the rulers on opposite sides and the victor wants to claim the loser.

I won't let him harm the only friend I have left.

"Drop dead, Adam."

His smile disappears.

"You will be singing another song when I'm finished with you. You, and every survivor you try to hide under the bodies."

My blood runs cold. So he knows, despite how hard I tried to conceal my thoughs. My only subordinate left alive, barely breathing under Nru, still breathing only because his constitution offered him a unique resistance against Death's Door. Alicante, that I manage to hide under bodies and empty words for so long.

I thought my curse was strong enough to conceal his magical imprint.

I was wrong.

Seeing he struck bullseye, Adam's smile comes back on his lips.

"Faloi, kill the pawn under the dead bird, will you ? Then bring her to me. She needs a little adjustment."

Faloi doesn't even nods. He just walks one step. Two steps. Three steps.

I spread my arms wide to try in a futile attempt to stop him.

Four steps.

He's next to Ourania now. Sword lifted. Eyes fixed on me.

I just look at him with the defiance of the dead.

You promised me peace.

Five steps.

He stops.

Raise his arm. Magic is boiling in him. His eyes are still devoid of emotion.

His arm go down.

I hear a gasp of agony.

Before Ourania falls on the ground, eyes full of a relieved surprise, Faloi's duel sword deep between her ribs.

Blood starts flowing again, magic is boiling, and far, far away I hear the anger of a Death finally free of her clutches. But she's still so far, too far, on the battlefield. She won't reach us in time. She won't save any of us.

Adam's eyes are just dots in overwidened lids.

"What... WHAT DID YOU DO ?"

Faloi doesn't answer. he's still controled, or so it seems. He doesn't have time to, anyway. Adam's arrow just planted itself between his two eyes, followed by another one in the heart, then in the liver, and another one another one another one. In just a second, Faloi Frosilaen falls on ground, covered in arrows, dead where he standed, and Adam jumped towards me to take my neck between his hands.

My blood is tainting his skin. Sweet, sweet consolation to see my curse passing on.

"Careful, Adam, I utter between two shaky breaths. I am cursed. It would be disastrous is the Luxure malediction passed upon you."

"I don't care about that you stupid whore ! What. Did. You. DO ?!?"

His look of desperation is soothing my heart.

A man is walking behind him.

His hands tighten on my neck. It's not exactly enjoyable to feel yourself die choked by a temperamental manchild, yet I still smile, for I will bring my secret to the grave and now that Death is free, Adam knows his time on the world is limited, too.

A sword rises under the action of nothingness. The sword of a dead man, a nameless one, now cluched in the left fist of another nameless.

Adam's face is nothing but rage and madness. He doesn't even realise he's spitting on me in the middle of his threats.

"Stop that ! Stop ! Stop ! STOP !"

Yet i can't stop Death approaching.

I can spy her from the corner of my eyes. Running towards us, announcing the omen of her words.

And then she stops.

The sword is raised.

She stops, and looks behind Adam in absolute stupefaction.

Adam doesn't have time to realise what's happening.

The man is behind him.

And the blade is planted in the heart of Love's son.

He coughs blood. His grip weakens. He turns around. Slowly. The sword is ripping his insides as he does so, yet the pain seems to be secondary compared to the expression on his face.

Pink eyes meet blue ones, hidden under a borsalino. The only touch of color in the face of a grey, ageless silhouette, dressed in a costume I don't know whick epoch it comes from. Jet-black hair falls on his face framing a face hidden in the shadows yet so similar to the one he looks at.

A face devoid of all emotion for Adam's is dripping with every last of them.

".... Dad ?"

His only answer is a trembling lid and empty words.

"How long has it been, Adam..."

Adam doesn't answer. He can't anymore. His very last drop of life left him the moment he falls on the ground, a pool of blood forming underneath him.

In death the tears stain the face of a lost child

Killed at the hand of his own father.

[minniiaa]

(long ass post just me rambling about a new lawlu fic idea. t/w for discussion of addiction and sui attempt. feel free to keep on scrolling.)

Writing a new modern au about Law becoming an addict after Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo died in an accident coming to pick him up. It's inevitably going to be a healing LuLaw story, Luffy finding him in his apartment by sheer luck after he decided to end his life on the one-year anniversary of their deaths. Luffy is in his hospital room when he wakes up, a cute stranger who he discovers is his neighbor and also a firefighter. Luffy declares that he's going to be his friend which makes no sense to Law, why would a guy like him with such a good life want to be friends with a pathetic junkie freak who just tried to off himself? What he doesn't know is that Luffy knows what it's like to lose the most important people to you, to feel so alone and not know how you're going to go on. Only Luffy did go on. He built a new family for himself, a home, and a life where he could be happy and he wants Law to do the same.

The first chapter was one of the darker, more emotional things I've written, detailing Law's relationship with death and how he is convinced everyone he ever cares for will die because they all have died. He falls into despair and tries to die once but can't go through with it. He turns to alcohol, finding that it numbed the voices in his head that screamed at him every waking moment. So the decline begins, Law becoming a street rat alcoholic who goes to grimy bars, going home with any guy whose willing to fuck him until it hurts, the pain overwhelming everything in his head. Alcohol turns to club drugs which turn to opiates and he's just a shell of a human at this point.

I think there's beauty in the rise from your lowest low to your highest high (not a drug high, just happiness). Law needs a reason to stay. Luffy becomes that reason, someone who understands him, who he almost hates in a way because he was able to pull himself out of the trenches when Law couldn't. Law decides to get clean once he wakes up in the hospital, deciding to give life one last try before he calls it quits for good. Luffy declares he's going to be there for him every step of the way and after some thought, Law lets him only because he knows can't be alone anymore. He'll use Luffy as a crutch he clearly needs until he's fulfilled his purpose, and then he'll just dispose of him.

He's shocked to find that Luffy is just a good person, unlike anyone he's ever encountered. Sure, he's pretty brutally honest, almost chastising Law for not even trying to move on but he's totally right, Law never did try, he just gave up. He has this way of somehow just knowing how Law is feeling even without him saying a word. He brings him gifts in few days he's in the hospital, cleans his apartment that had fallen into an absolute shit hole while Law was an addict, and when Law comes home he basically just moves in even though he only lives down the hall. He doesn't want Law to be alone, to fall back into his addiction. He introduces him to his friends and is active in his treatment even going to his first NA meeting with him so he doesn't have to go by himself.

He's exactly Law's type and he's maddeningly charming, openly affectionate and flirtatious right off the bat which just confuses Law. He convinces himself that it's just the kind of person Luffy is, some people are just like that but there's no way he's actually attracted to him... right? He's still down horrendous for him from the very start though, and Luffy doesn't make this any better, sending him shirtless pictures of him and little flirty messages like 'wish you were here ;)'. (Law's a degen and Luffy is totally aware of what he's doing but he just likes Law and wants him to know it).

Their strange friendship grows and evolves while Law deals with the harsh reality of what it means for him to be sober. One day Luffy kisses him, things get intense and Law is fucking TERRIFIED. He can't care about someone again, can't watch them die like everyone else and know it's all his fault. He pushes Luffy away but he won't go. He loves Law and he's going to do anything it takes to make sure Law accepts that fucking love. He does, of course. He's wanted this from the beginning but he was just too scared of what it would mean to love someone for the first time, to admit it aloud. Law overcomes his addiction, begins to process his losses, and Luffy becomes his Reason to Stay.

(If you don't care about my personal shit feel free to stop here and enjoy this random summary headcanon thing I unintentionally wrote. This is just this week's episode of me oversharing but maybe it'll help someone who has been in similar situations idk.) I decided to write this story for purely personal reasons. About 7 years ago the person I was dating was an addict and although I did everything I could to try and get them the help they desperately needed after I saved them from overdosing the first time, but it wasn't enough and they ended up dying a few months later. I was also doing various drugs at the time, though only recreationally, and was thankfully able to stop after seeing what it did to the people around me. However, this death fucked me up and I blamed myself to the point it drove me to become an alcoholic just to help cope with the pain. Things are much better now and it took many years but I've finally been able to process everything. Writing is therapeutic for me and I always wanted to write a story about addiction and loss but I wasn't sure how it would do it. I guess I found it now?

At the end of the day, I wasn't enough of a reason for that person to stay but what if there was a world where someone was? I wanted to explore that concept with my favorite ship and somehow this beast was created in my fucked up little head. I'm looking forward to the very fulfilling and heart-warming journey of Law healing and falling in love with our favorite loyal puppy dog Luffy :)

[heyclickadee]

Things about "The Outpost" that are still killing me:

1. That airstrip was huge. And by the time we see Mayday and Crosshair on it they've been walking across it for a while, at the rate they’re going. The TK troopers don't see them at first, but once they do, they gather, see this:

These two men, barely on their feet, clearly in pain, one of them unable to keep holding on to his crutch anymore, staggering towards them inch by inch, looking towards them for help--not a single one of the TK troopers offers any kind of assistance whatsoever. No one calls for a medic, no one rushes forward to carry Mayday. They all just stand there and watch. And when Nolan tells them to go, they do, because they probably don't see the clones that differently than Nolan does.  

Yeah, Lieutenant Nolan is an asshole. He went from, "I'm probably going to dislike this guy," to, "LOATHE," in my book with a single line. He's a pathetic officer-wannabe who genuinely thinks of the clones as machinery he can push around and direct how he likes. He doesn't see the problem with kicking around someone like Mayday--someone who technically outranks him, I think--or the danger inherent in goading someone like Crosshair, because he doesn't see either of them as reasoning, emotion-having people who may just retaliate if pushed far enough. He's a snake and he deserved what he got. But his malice is more than matched by the TK troopers' apathy.

2. The way that there's ice and snow frozen to Crosshair's armor on the landing strip, and the fact that Mayday can't quite make it to the end of the tarmac, nor is Crosshair able to continue carrying him. They're both so cold and tired. They've both hit their physical limit and it would have been enough if anyone had cared to help.

3. Crosshair is--literally--stripped of everything that marks him as an imperial soldier or a soldier at all by the end of the episode, and most of it is stuff he casts aside himself. His CT number (in a way, when he gives Mayday his name), his helmet that he doesn't even look for (there as SO MANY good helmet metas out there, so I'm not going to get into it), his rifle (which he gives to Mayday to use as a crutch and doesn't retrieve when Mayday drops it), his backpack (I'm guessing it got too heavy so he threw it away to keep carrying Mayday), and even his armor, reflection mirror...sticker...things, and sidepiece (all of which are taken from him after he blacks out. I'm not real happy about the fact that the scientists at Mount Tantiss changed his clothes while he was unconscious). Of course, the last few function a little bit differently than they first ones do. The CT number, the helmet, the rifle, and I guess (?) even the backpack (though to a much lesser extent) are all Crosshair intentionally putting his imperial identity aside in order to help someone he sees as a brother and re-humanizing himself in the process. The last couple--the armor, the sidepiece--that's the writers telling us how vulnerable Crosshair is in his current situation.

4. The SNOW and the way it interacted with the CHARACTERS was just *chef's kiss* Credit to Joel Aron and the effects department, you guys knocked it out of the park.

5. Likewise, while I'm really glad The Bad Batch does list the names of the animators at CGCG who worked on each episode in the credits (because guess what--not every animated show does this. Sometimes they just list the name of the studio), I really want to know which animators were responsible for animating Crosshair this time around. Or at least Crosshair's shots, since the way I think it often works is that an animator will be assigned a series of shots and be responsible for animating everyone in those shots, because oh boy, was that a performance. Crosshair's animation has always been standout, I think partly (partly) because he's a character that doesn't actually talk that much, and says stuff he doesn't mean at least half the time, so there has to be a certain level of clarity and nuance in his performance for the character comes across the way the writers intend (and partly because being an ultra-expressive but taciturn bundle of emotions is a big part of Crosshair as a person). But the team working on this episode took something that was already great and kicked it up another level.

6. I want to know if Jennifer Corbett, the board artists, layout artists, the other writers, the directors, and others high-fived each other when they came up with the ice vulture symbolism and the rock-wings shot. I want to know if they knew we'd go crazy over it.

7. Mayday. Literally everything about Mayday. Mayday my beloved. *cries*

8. The look on Crosshair's face when he's about to pass out and sees the TK troopers coming still messes me up, because it's the closest thing we've gotten to a real smile (one that actually reaches his eyes) pretty much since he was teasing Echo in the med bay in "Aftermath." Crosshair's someone who's come across as to me passively suicidal since the moment he turned around after the droid fight in "Return to Kamino" and saw Hunter and the rest pointing their guns at him. Passively--meaning that he's not going to actually do anything, that he doesn't actually want to die, he’ll survive however he can, but that he's not exactly planning for the future, either. He'll just keep doing what he's doing until it (almost definitely) kills him. And. I mean. Crosshair's not stupid. He knows what killing Lieutenant Nolan means for him. I'm not saying that Crosshair didn't expect to wake up afterwards, or that he wanted to not wake up, but I am saying that he did decide that avenging Mayday and defying the Empire in whatever small way he could was worth dying for. And that he was very, very tired.

9. I'm so! Glad! That Crosshair's growth wasn't centered around Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Hunter, or Echo. We already know that he cares about them. Showing us the lengths he'll go to help a relative stranger instead and making that his breaking point does so much more to tell us that he's grown.

10. The thing that sticks with me most, though, is the fact that this episode wasn't just sad. It wasn't just unrelenting tragedy, or even like "The Solitary Clone," where overriding emotion of the whole episode is despair. I mean, yes, this episode is sad. It's tragic. You have Lieutenant Nolan's cruelty, you have the malice of the Empire, you have the apathy of the TK troopers, the dehumanization of the clones, the soul-crushing way in which Mayday and Crosshair find out that the clones were always going to be replaced, that inevitability, the futility (on one level) struggle that ends in Mayday's death. 

But it's not just that. There's warmth, too. There's camraderie and a little bit of humor. Mayday, a survivor starting to see how pointless it all was, and Crosshair, who's so desperate for companionship at this point that he'd pack bond with a rock, snark back and forth at each other a little bit like old friends. Heck, this is the episode where we get the most profound act of compassion we've seen in the show so far. Mayday didn't have to disarm that mine and save Crosshair, but he did, and it matters. No, Mayday didn't make it, but Crosshair carried him through a blizzard for two days and made sure he didn't get left behind or die alone, even if he couldn't save him, and that matters. Yes, Crosshair's a prisoner now, but he chose to avenge Mayday, grab hold of his own humanity again, and told the Empire where to stuff it, and that matters. Kindness and defiance have their own meaning, even if they don't change the outcome. But the fact that this episode is more than just sad is, I think, why it's so harrowing in the first place.

[levitatingbiscuits]

I love some of ur atla metas revolving katara sm! People are really hard on her, when in reality she suffered the most in the show. I think people try to use her to prop up sokkas barely existing issues so he's more relevant, and as a way to excuse aangs flaws, but you don't do that.

Thank you! I am, first and foremost, a Katara stan. I'm like Aang straight out the iceberg. 10 year old me saw her and was like OH YES SHE'S THE LOVE OF MY LIFE and that hasn't changed in 13 years.

People tend to play suffering Olympics for this show specifically to shit on katara, even though it's primarily her trauma that the narrative focuses on as a lens through which to explore the war. Tellingly, most of her suffering she goes through alone, without the support she offers to everyone else.

People try to play whataboutism with Aang and Sokka's trauma, even though the show straight up tells us that she is their living emotional crutch and the reason they were able to move on. Katara can't move on. No one helps her move on. When she tries to take matters into her own hands, to heal herself the way she heals others, she's condemned by the fandom (and Aang and Sokka that one time), called selfish and cruel and a million other things.

I especially hate when people bring up the Air Nomad genocide as a gotcha, when Katara is also the sole survivor of a genocide, a genocide she personally witnessed and was in danger of dying in. People forget that bloodbending is very obviously a metaphor for the generational trauma she inherits ON TOP of the traumatic murder of her mother, who died in her place. Katara knew very well that Yon Rha was there to kill her for her bending. Her survivor's guilt is actually worse than Aang's, even though it's less focused on, because she never truly gets over it. She spends the rest of her childhood trying to fill the empty space her mother left. And she SUCCEEDED. For her father, her brother, for everyone else she supported and mothered. For the child she named after her mom, a child that carries on the almost extinct legacy of Southern bending the way Tenzin does for Airbending, even though her importance is just as downplayed as EVERY OTHER ASPECT OF KATARA'S LEGACY INDEPENDENT OF AANG'S. Katara fills that empty maternal, caring role for EVERYONE in the gaang but zuko and herself, then she plays the same role for Korra because she's Aang's successor.

That's why it's so galling that she never got to resolve the bloodbending story herself. Sokka and Aang do it for her while she's busy trying to repopulate the Air Nomads, because God forbid she be allowed to do anything separate from her husband. Legend of Korra shits on Katara almost as much as the goddamn fandom. "She doesn't get a statue because she didn't do anything after the war but mother Aang's kids" is the actual justification bryke gave for no one honoring or idolizing her the way they do for the rest of the gaang in LOK. And God forbid she get a fight scene or even attend her own granddaughter's mastery ceremony. After all, that's Aang's legacy, not hers. She was treated like a convenient broodmare still pining for him 2 decades after his death and training and healing his successor and being neglected and isolated by her kids, because of course she's not allowed to move on and be content without him. Katara is never allowed to heal from her losses. She's always, always left to suffer in silence and deal with her pain alone.

No wonder this fandom props up Aang and Sokka by undermining Katara. The creators did it first :/

People didn't used to be such weirdos about Sokka. This is 100% a result of the ex-klance people latching on to zukka due to the superficial aesthetic similarities. Remember all those Lance stans who would insist that he's the one who suffered the most and would shit on every other character to make him look better? And transplant the character traits of other characters on to him, ESPECIALLY the girl of color popularly shipped with his supposed love interest? (Waterbender/moon spirit sokka is just altean Lance with a fresh coat of atla paint.) That's literally what they did to sokka in the "Renaissance." Before that it was primarily the hard-core kataang/aang stans insisting that Katara's narrative mattered less than the male characters'. I still remember the rape and death threats I got back in like 2018 for arguing that she deserved better than to end up a permanently benched housewife healer propping up Aang's legacy rather than securing her own in LOK. Then the zukkas came along and insisted their misogyny was woke because it was in service of fetishizing a gay ship with barely any basis in canon. (Cmon guys, jetko is RIGHT THERE and their interactions are not exclusively about one guy's various girlfriends. Just saying. Hell, Zukaang has the most basis of any atla slash ship, but people aren't attracted to Aang so they don't bother. Mark my words, the upcoming atla movie is gonna cause a zukaang Renaissance.)

That got long lol. This is probably gonna be controversial but I don't care, I'm right. Appreciate you nonnie!

[emmedoesntdomath]

Can I just have some good hcs? I need emotional support rn 😭😭

HI OF COURSE SORRY I DIDN��T ANSWER EARLIER

race has adhd, right? and because he’s also gay as hell, he has that certain audacity that says if he really tries, he believes he can do just about anything. so when he was, like, six, he taught himself the basics of morse code for shits and giggles. then he forgot about doing it, and so he never learned any more. when he became friends with albert, they learned a little bit more together, so they’d be able to communicate without other people knowing (stuff like help, no, I’m bored, this bitch, etc.) they continued using that method for years. and then they met spot, it seemed natural to include him, too. so their vocabulary expanded, and they just started talking without using words, saying things (again) like help, get me out of here, this bitch, and; I love you. 

when charlie became crutchie, he decided that no one else had to know who he used to be. jack did, of course, because jack had been francis, but that was different. he became a newsie, made friends, made family. still, he was crutchie. this wasn’t weird, or bad, because most newsies had nicknames, but most newsies had names, too. but crutchie was just crutchie. so when les asked ‘d’you still have a real name, too?’ one day in the penthouse, he froze a bit. because he did, of course he did. but crutchie was crutchie, and charlie was gone. he whispered back, ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’ les simply nodded and said, ‘okay. let me know if you get one.’ crutchie cried a little bit that night. over a year later, after kids had come and gone, the seasons had changed and come again, les and crutchie were in the penthouse again. les was reading and crutchie was fiddling with his crutch. ‘charlie’ he whispered. les glanced up. ‘charlie’, he said a little louder. ‘that’s my real name.’ les looked like he understood. he moved over and held out a hand to shake. ‘nice ta meetcha, charlie. I’m les.’

jack and davey once had a big fight. I mean, obviously, all couples do. but they fought, and then they didn’t speak to each other for a solid week. race was beside himself. ‘jackie, jackie, no- listen to me. listen. you NEEDS to talk to davey. don’t look at me like that. dave needs you. we needs dave. c’mon. please.’ jack, being the emotionally stunted man-child he is, did absolutely jack shit. so race turned to davey. ‘dave. dave, davey, please. look, I know he’s an idiot. believe me, I do. I’ve been putting up with the knucklehead for years, I get it. but we’s fallin apart, dave. the kids need you and jackie. I know that’s not fair to say. but its the truth. just- please. talk to him. hit em for all I care. just make this better.’ they were back together within two hours. (racetrack higgins can work MIRACLES when he tries.)

jack once called medda mom while painting a set. it was casual, a thrown over the shoulder kind of thing, and he didn’t even realize what he had said. but medda sure did. and she went home and thanked a lord that she had done nothing but screamed and yelled at for the better part of fifteen years for jack kelly, and the sheer good and happiness he brought into her life. 

elmer, splasher, slasher, magnet, graves, and their siblings having a weekly family dinner that everyone is required to attend. swipe has an invitation extended to them every week. slasher hates it.