#they actually put thought and care into them

[rcmclachlan]

He shoves his feet into his sneakers and then double checks that he has everything: keys, wallet, an old Trader Joe's bag filled with a lemon-blueberry pie, two almond-cranberry loaves, a bunch of cream puffs, ice cream bread, a fruitcake, and a cheese danish almost as big as the circumference of the bag opening, plus the stupid cue cards he spent an hour writing out.

Exhaling, Buck glances at his watch. 11:09pm. That gives him about 35 minutes to get to South Robertson, 10 minutes to hyperventilate in the Jeep, three minutes to do the most humiliating thing he's ever dreamed of doing, and one minute to hopefully ring in the new year before it officially starts.

The plan is foolproof, it's Chimney approved, and it's the only one he's got. He can't spend another two months baking and staring at his phone hoping to see bubbles dancing. And not just because none of the grocery stores within a ten mile radius of the loft will sell him small batch vanilla extract anymore.

He can't spend another two months feeling like he's suffering from something that Hen would normally use the LifePak to fix. Which is why this is going to work. It has to. Because he can't think about what the next year is going to be like if it doesn't.

"Okay," Buck murmurs, nodding to himself. "It's go time."

Slipping the bag handles over his wrist and tucking the cards under his arm, he pulls the door open and walks right into a brick wall.

"Shit, I'm sorry," the wall says, steadying Buck with big, familiar hands, then bends down to pick up the cards that had spilled to the floor. "I wouldn't have been standing there if I'd known you were gonna fly out like the place was on fire."

It's been a while since Buck's felt this wrong-footed—two months, to be exact—and that's the only reason why he opens his mouth and "You ruined my plan!" falls out.

Tommy looks up from the cue cards with a disbelieving smile. It's the same one that had spread across his face after bad coffee and a plea for a second chance. You already know I'm interested. "Were you going to Love, Actually me?"

He turns the cards in his hands and shows the top one to Buck. It says To me, you are perfect an asshole (but I want you anyway).

Buck puts down the Trader Joe's bag and gives himself a minute to drink Tommy in. He looks good, if wan. The bags under his eyes are new, but the way he curls his shoulders in, like he's trying to make himself smaller, turn himself into a smaller target, takes Buck right back to the last time Tommy was here.

"I-In my defense, Chimney thought it was a stroke of genius," Buck grouses. "Although I'm starting to suspect that he was just giving me shit."

Genuine amusement makes hills and valleys out of the corners of Tommy's eyes, and the way the sight of them makes something unknot inside of Buck feels like muscle memory. He used to wish that his own crow's feet were that pronounced; it always seemed like Tommy's were a mark of a life spent smiling. But even the knowledge that many of those smiles weren't real can't stop Buck from being charmed.

With shaking hands, Buck takes the cue cards from Tommy, who seems a little reluctant to let them go, and absolutely doesn't clutch them to his chest like a shield.

"What are you doing here?"

Tommy scratches at his forearm, a little tic that draws Buck's eye, and because of it he almost doesn't see the tremor in Tommy's bottom lip when he breathes out shakily and says, "I was on shift today, and Nico asked everyone what their New Year's resolutions were. I didn't have one. I never do. It's not something I ever—just getting through the year intact has always been my goal. You really can't call that a resolution."

Buck can't help but give a mystified nod, because he has no idea where this is going, but he honestly doesn't care. Tommy's here. He's here.

"But I couldn't stop thinking about it," Tommy continues, and the laugh he chokes out sounds like it scores the inside of his throat on its way out. "Tonight I had a little kid code in the back of my bird on the way to First Pres, and all I could think about was what my resolution would be if I had one."

"D-Did the kid make it?"

"No," Tommy sighs. "No, he didn't. And I sat on the roof of the hospital for, like, twenty minutes sobbing like a baby, because all I wanted was to hear the sound of your voice. I just wanted to call you and I wouldn't let myself."

The image of Tommy crying alone in a cockpit and denying himself even a little bit of comfort hits Buck like a sucker punch. "W-Why didn't you?"

"I was scared," Tommy admits with a smile that hurts to look at. The corners of his eyes crease anyway. "I was shit scared that I'd call and you'd, I don't know, tell me to go fuck myself, or tell me that I did you a favor by breaking things off. Or worse: the call wouldn't go through at all, because you'd blocked me. You had every right to do any of those things, but... I was too afraid to find out what it'd be. So I didn't."

The prickling heat in the corners of Buck's eyes and in his sinuses feels like a warning. He clears his throat, trying to head it off at the pass, but his eyes feel too wet to safely blink.

"But then why are you—"

"I was on my way home when it hit me out of nowhere: my resolution. Forty-something years and I finally had one."

Heart pounding, Buck takes a step forward and ventures, breathless, "Which was...?"

"My resolution was to be brave for once in my life." Tommy's nose scrunches like he's holding in a laugh, but his eyes look suspiciously glassy. "And suddenly I was parked outside your building."

"Y-You got a space?"

Tommy laughs wetly. "Believe it or not, it was the same one I got that night. And as I pulled in, I thought, 'See that, Kinard? Even the universe is telling you to stop being such a fucking coward.'"

"Your resolution is to be brave," Buck echoes, and just saying it feels like standing at the edge of a canyon and being unable to judge the distance from one side to the other because of the sun in his eyes. "T-That's a good one. We could all stand to be a bit braver this year."

Swallowing, Tommy shakes his head, but before Buck can flirt with the notion of a breakdown, he steps closer. Enough that Buck can count his individual lashes; enough to see the fear in his eyes, as well as the determination holding it at bay.

"I'm no expert, but I hear the best resolutions are the ones where there's someone to hold you to them." He stares into Buck's eyes as he talks but, with every other word, his gaze dips lower.

"I've made and broken a million resolutions in my life. I think that makes me an expert," Buck murmurs. "And yeah, having someone hold you accountable is the key to keeping them."

"I've still got—" Tommy glances down at his watch. "—forty-one minutes. Maybe I should wait until midnight, make it a clean start. What's your expert opinion on—"

Whatever he's about to say gets cut off when Buck drops the cue cards to the floor and presses his entire body into Tommy's. He hopes Tommy can feel every single vibration coming from his bones.

Whether or not he does is anyone's guess, but Tommy doesn't hesitate in wrapping his arms around Buck, sliding a hand up his back to cup the base of his skull, gasping a little in the space between their mouths when Buck rests his forehead against Tommy's. He's shaking even harder than Buck, but his hold is steadfast.

"I'm going to nail your ass to the wall if you break this resolution," Buck whispers.

"I'm counting on it," Tommy whispers back. "In the meantime, you should show me the cue cards. This is literally a fantasy of mine."

Snorting, Buck bites playfully at the bolt of his jaw, and tries not to go completely boneless in relief. "I'm so glad you fucked up my plan. That movie is so bad, Tommy, and I had to re-watch that stupid scene a hundred times to get the cue cards right. You don't deserve them."

"Say 'it's carol singers,'" Tommy nuzzles at his cheek. "Just once. I've been incredibly brave tonight and I deserve something."

"Suffer," Buck laughs, and kisses him into next year.

[mckinlily]

So I’m a woman in STEM, and in physics specifically that has some of the worse gender ratios out of all the sciences and right there with most engineering fields that I also worked closely with. All through my undergrad, I was told I was so lucky there were “maybe up to 10?” girls in my classes, instead of being the ONLY girl in the classroom like it was for my professors.

But you see, this wasn’t because men didn’t want women in physics. They did!! It was just women were socialized differently so they didn’t end succeeding as much (if they even tried at all—a pipeline problem that was not under the physicists’ control).

There were plenty of ways this showed up, but a big one was “Oh men don’t listen to women just because they don’t talk right.” See, women phrase their thoughts and contributions with “I think” or “I feel” or “Maybe it’s…” while men will just blast you with their opinions like it’s the word of god or some shit “ACTUALLY ITS THIS WAY”. See, it’s women’s soft way of speaking that actually disempowers themselves. Men would listen to them right away if they were just assertive. Just writing this out makes me want to puke, and very early on I was calling bullshit on it. Primarily on two accounts: 1) Why is it the woman’s communication style automatically Wrong and the man’s way is Right? Why don’t we accuse men of being failed communicators because they don’t communicate like women? Especially when both styles have advantages? Why do the men get to be assumed superior? And 2) we all know the term for an assertive woman: it’s BITCH.

But even while I could see all that bullshit, I was still pulled in by the underlying premise: if you’re just good enough—if you’re smart enough, experienced enough, competent enough, and confident enough—you will be let in and treated with respect.

So I tried to be as smart and competent and infallible as possible believing that if I did that, I would earn that respect.

Until one day, I actually managed it. I became a subject matter expert at my company. I had enough knowledge and experience to stand out among everyone else. And I did it fast. I learned more and faster than my other colleagues until I was the go-to person for multiple huge projects, even being relatively young. I was more competent, more efficient, more confident—finally able to go toe-to-toe with my male colleagues, even ones with more years of experience, on their level because I got that good.

And they treated me like SHIT.

It sucked being treated like an inferior, but it was 1000 times worse when they couldn’t believe I was inferior anymore and therefore treated me like a threat. Even the other women were less eager to back me up. The antagonism, the put downs, the way they kept me out of key conversations relevant to my job, the constant lying and gaslighting, the retaliation—

Turns out, they never meant to treat women like equals. But they held that promise out like a dangling carrot, convinced no woman could *actually* match that standard. And when one did, when I beat them at it, ALLLLL the nastiness came spewing out.

And this from guys who I had previously thought if it were decently ok!

Women act the way they do because that “female socialization” isn’t anything cute or passive or harmless. It is vicious backlash whenever they don’t—often violent backlash. Women are intelligent humans with brains very competent in opportunity v risk analysis. And if you’re a woman looking to survive or just minimize self harm—you learn very quickly which behaviors will protect you and which will get you attacked.

Don’t you dare criticize women for choosing the behaviors that are least likely to make them the targets of your cruelty and violence And girls, don’t internalize this idea that women’s ways are inferior or weak. Do what you need to do, whether that’s saving your energy for what you really care about, or throwing out patriarchy’s rules and taking the lumps that come with that. There’s no right answer when the system is built so that you’re always wrong.

Women do things that make sense. Women have always been just as logical as any human when presented with the facts of their lives which they know intimately.

Was it worth it to work hard, fight hard, and stand up for myself at my job? I don’t know. It wasn’t the “feminine” thing. It didn’t succeed in granting me the respect I wanted. It made life a lot harder for me, really. But I also found out that I’m a lot stronger and more skilled than I thought I was. I learned a lot of cool science.

And I left that job. Because I could see there was no path left for me to be respected that.

TLDR: Women aren’t “assertive” because men turn into raging lunatic de-aged monsters when they are. That’s some pretty strong negative reinforcement

a lot of behaviors that get attributed to "female socialization" can be so much more easily and accurately understood as a person recognizing the power differential surrounding them and behaving sensibly in response to that.

like. does a woman politely listen to a man monologue at her because of some experience she had when she was twelve that magically cursed her to behave that way forever, or does she do it because the man has the power to hurt her and she knows it?

does a woman do all the dishes in her household because she is less capable of breaking out of a long-ago conditioned response than, like, your average trained dog, or is she doing that because she knows that all the men in the house will blame her if she doesnt and will make life worse for her if she speaks up?

maybe a lot of sexist patterns of behavior that are widely observed in society arent caused by women like, lacking willpower or backbone? maybe it is super fucking weird for supposedly feminist movements to imply this is the case when they talk about female socialization as the end all, be all of predicting human behavior?

isnt it both more useful and more respectful toward women to consider that they are perceiving their present circumstances accurately, and recognize when power is already being wielded against them, and take logical measures to deescalate and protect themselves because it works? is it not fucking clear to everybody that trans women in particular have to do this all the fucking time?

[plaidcowboy]

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ⊹ send poods

content: rafe knowing you would love the dog he happens to see while meeting with barry

author stamp: thinking of the sticker that came with my depop order that said send poods

rafe skimmed his index finger back and forth on his hairline, in thought about what was going on in his family. he thought a little time talking about it with barry would help. they sat side by side in front of his trailer in lawn chairs, barry rambling off about ‘the tough stuff’ rafe was currently going through. “yeah man, you got to show them who’s boss. i ain’t saying go around hurting anyone, but..”

rafe sighed, exhaling from his nose. “alright, yeah thanks, that’s something i haven’t even thought of doing” he responded sarcastically. he meant it though. becoming violent was the last resort rafe wanted to turn to in order to deal with his issue. he felt he’s done enough harm.

“well don’t get mad at the messenger” barry said amusingly, raising his arms at the elbows where they rested on the sides of the lawn chair. “you came to me talking about some nonsense, i was just minded my business, counting..”

rafe heard a rustling from the bushes beside him. glancing over, he pushed from his lounging position in the chair, watching the bush while barry continued going off about rafe ‘interrupting’ his business mode concentration. the bush rustled once again. “yo, shut up” he quieted barry.

rafe reached for the gun he had tucked in the back of his jeans, slightly raising his flannel. “what are you pulling that out for?” barry and his voice raised, seemingly unaware of the possible threat hiding in the bushes just mere feet away from them.

the possible threat then leaped from the bushes, halting rafe mid draw of his gun. he sighed again. it was just a dog. “man, you out here pulling a gun on animals” barry teased. rafe turned his head to him, face set in a don’t expression. turning back to the dog, he let himself see that the dog was actually kind of cute. no matter how frustrated or demanding he may get with people, he was okay with animals. and this one looked like something you would just gush over. he remembered then that dog that you pointed out while you two were together the other day, saying how you would do the most insane things for it. the dog didn’t even ask for that, rafe thought. but he let you ramble on about how adorable you found the animal.

pulling his phone from his pocket, he proceeded to open his camera app, not minding at all doing something that he knew would put a smile on your face. aiming the camera at the surprisingly still golden dog in front of him, he snapped a picture the moment the dog hung his tongue out in a smile. so stinking cute. he sent you the photo, not bothering to add text, knowing you would be too distracted by the picture and not even care about what rafe said.

“did you just send a picture..”

rafe paid no mind to barry who had quietly watched the entire sequence in shock, not at all ashamed about what he would do for you. his phone buzzed not even a minute later with a response from you. some words that weren’t even real. words that looked to spell the sound of you squealing. words that were just button mashing. he chuckled down at his phone. you were even cuter than the dog.

his smiled dropped at your next text asking if you guys could keep it. no.

[66ejna]

— husband!gojo's randomness.

୨୧ slight ooc, reader is a female, sfw, fluff, hcs (?), inspired by this fic.

husband!gojo, the guy who sneaks a kiss on your forehead before leaving for a mission, prioritizing your peaceful rest over a goodbye.

husband!gojo who always leave a "i love you more than yourself!" note before going to work, stick it on the fridge intentionally while you're sleeping. lets you know when he leaves for work early, just so you won’t feel panicked when he's not around (it's the opposite, really).

husband!gojo being a secretly sentimental husband - always keeping the cutesy letters you tend to give him when he's away rather than texting him.

husband!gojo who's keen on sprawling all around the bed, but demands for cuddles.

husband!gojo secretly sets up sweet gestures for his wife, ranging from heartfelt notes to surprise vacations. he claims it's all about her deserving it, yet it's clearly an excuse to show off.

husband!gojo, the type of husband to hold your hand with his, intertwine the fingers together, and put it inside his pocket as you guys walk under the beautiful night.

husband!gojo who purposely slips and calls you "princess" in front of others, especially in public gatherings/events.

husband!gojo who will make anything turns into a competition like turns daily chores into a playful rivalry.

despite his usual extravagant personality, husband!gojo takes his wife's concerns seriously. let it be work stress or personal issues, he may not always have the perfect response, but he's always there, ready to listen and comfort her.

husband!gojo who makes fun of you in the sweetest, most loving way, whether it's poking fun at how you look while drooling or your height, his eyes will always hold affection.

husband!gojo who knows that his lateness might also serve as a way to stir up reactions - especially yours. and when you're lightly mad at him, he'll claim he's searching for your heart, ridiculously. "i'm not joking around here, okay, i thought i will find your heart anywhere here."

husband!gojo, the husband who's into buying the plushie you longed for, without telling you that he actually knows you liked them. he's very attentive with everything you want.

husband!gojo, a husband figure who exudes confidence around others, but when it's just you two, he's the most caring and thoughtful version of himself. you could ramble on until his ears can't take it, but he'd stay by your side, no matter how much you yap.

every time someone flirts with you, husband!gojo casually says, "mine," with a small smile. letting them know that this woman is his.

husband!gojo, the type to makes sure you're always within his line of sight, even amidst a room full of strangers.

husband!gojo who messes with your hair in the morning, claiming it's "adorable" even though it's a mess.

husband!gojo whom brain is always flooded with nicknames ideas for you - constantly give you random ones like "my little snuggle nugget" for no reason at all.

©66ejna all rights reserved. do NOT repost & copy my work.

[punkitt-is-here]

Okay I'll put it here too because I want my words read.

Taking you at your word, I don't think most transfems think that. I actually think that's a wider issue with the queer community. I've seen more acceptance of my own and others' masculinity in transfem circles than elsewhere.

The problem is what you said sounds a lot like something the transandrophobia guys say, and they're massively transmisogynistic. They couch their bs in dogwhistles and doublespeak.

I think people thought they heard you parroting what the transandrophobia guys say and got mad. But you were speaking genuinely (in my opinion misinformed), so there's just been a massive miscommunication.

Also egging people on and making "touch grass" jokes doesn't help.

I said trans women because I was speaking specifically to them on an issue I see us have. I was not trying to make a broader point about how the world views masculinity, or how queer people in general view masculinity, i was talking specifically about a type of transgender woman that i am familiar with! most of them don't think that, because they rock! but a non-zero amount do and I see em more often than what I like. I don't really care that my words sound like a transandrophobia dogwhistle, thats some other shit. Not my fault, not my point. I'm not gonna say I'm misinformed, because I am very much informed about a lot of the stuff regarding this.

I got no ill will, so sorry if I sound snappy, but its like 3 AM here and I'm tired of people thinking I'm speaking more broadly than I am!

[tsuutarr]

Yandere! Assassin x Noble! Reader

Spencer has always disliked people. They’re too loud, too annoying, too cruel. Even then, it’s not as if Spencer disliked people enough to kill them. It’s just that being an assassin is something that he’s good at. It pays his bills and he doesn’t really have to talk to a lot of people. What’s not to love?

Well, sure, maybe the murder part is a little… morally questionable. But all of Spencer’s targets have been morally questionable people anyway. 

So many people have heaps and heaps of skeletons in their closet – they really don’t have any room to judge him.

Speaking of skeletons, Spencer is pretty certain that his newest client has a few. Geoffrey Cullen, the Head Butler of the Arrington Estate… on the surface, he looks quite put together, but Spencer can’t help but find Geoffrey’s smile suspicious. But money is money and to be honest, Spencer could really care less.

Or, that’s what Spencer would like to think, but this assignment is a little… different from his other ones. This time, he’s being commissioned to be the personal assassin of the Arrington Estate on a trial basis. If his work is satisfactory, he’ll be hired full time. It’s… not a bad deal, really, but who has this many targets? Especially a butler of all people?

Spencer quickly finds out that he was hired to protect you, the heir to the Arrington Estate. Spencer isn’t entirely sure why you need all this protection and while he wouldn’t really care normally… he can’t help but be curious. He ends up watching you throughout the day when he’s not working. You’re… surprisingly fun to look at. You seem to be a hard worker and very kind. He likes looking at the various expressions that cross your features. He likes watching you banter with your workers. And, well, it’s weird to say, but… he kind of just likes watching you in general.

In some ways, he thinks you’re kind of… different from other people. A lot less annoying and loud and definitely not… cruel. Even in spite of your Father’s viciousness, you never seem to stoop as low as him. Spencer finds that admirable.

And well, maybe he finds you a little cute. And pretty. He’s never really thought that way about another human being before, so it’s all so new. But Spencer doesn’t dislike it – no, he actually rather likes finding joy in watching you and thinking you’re cute and all that. 

So, he really can’t help but put his best foot forward so that he can continue watching you for years and years to come. Maybe if he does good enough, he’ll be the Arrington Estate’s personal assassin long term, which would then allow him to watch you as much as he’d like. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to talk to you (and maybe you’ll even know his name)!

Sure, he’ll stutter the entire time and he probably won’t be able to meet your eyes. But just imagining your smile directed at him? Oh, it makes butterflies swarm in his belly even as he slits the throat of one of your potential suitors. 

As Spencer leisurely cleans his bloodsoaked blade while sitting on a tree, he can’t help but think of how exciting his future looks when you’re there. 

Really, it’s just all so exciting.

[faylvrs]

TONIGHT, GO CRAZY !

★ postscript. what i imagine the bllk men to be like at a christmas party. ★ feat. kaiser, rin, reo, nagi, sae, barou, bachira, shidou, isagi, otoya, karasu, aiku ★ contents. crack mostly, not really x reader LMAO

note. hello. i just wanna start this off by saying i am so so sorry for how late and rushed this is 😵‍💫. i scrapped my other multi cause the idea was sorta dumb and i didn’t know how to write it but.. merry ( late ) christmas and happy new year! hope you enjoy this silly little late gift <3

★ KAISER : WHO INVITED THE GRINCH BRUH..

absolutely does not want to be here, was forced to come because it was his birthday.. not that he actually cares about that. he probably got the most gifts, sent everyone like $1 as a return gift with a proud smirk—“money for the peasants, i guess.” his ass ate all of the cookies and would smack anyone who dared touch him.. ptsd ig 💙

★ RIN : PARTY LONER

not very fond of christmas after his brother dropped the bomb on him that he does not give 2 fucks about him. probably that one loner in the party who stays in the room upstairs. secretly wore a pendant that sae gave him on the last birthday they celebrated together, the picture being rin holding up sae’s trophy with a fond look on his face. christmas makes his heart ache with both nostalgia and sorrow.

★ REO : RICH AUNT

the rich aunt uncle, this motherfucker gifted every single person at the party something well over $1000, and the worst part is he knew exactly what to give everyone too. would brush it off with a “oh, its nothing. just spare change.” .. rich ass. screams in joy when someone gifts him something back, could be a $2 teddy bear and suddenly you’re opening your phone to ‘reo mikage has sent you $3000’.

★ NAGI : LONER #2

also forced to show up like kaiser. parties were never nagi’s thing, he’d much rather stay at home and play video games all day. it took a little bit of convincing ( and a lot of whining ) but he agreed to come if he could bring his phone. does not participate in anything, just lounges in the corner with the occasional damn it when he loses.

★ SAE : THE FUCKS A RETURN GIFT?

he came, with no gifts at all. according to him he expected everyone to be giving him gifts and not expecting anything in return.. i mean, his parents never asked him for a present back so could you blame him? yeah.. you kinda could. i could see him trying to make everything about soccer, imagine this: you’re unboxing your present and you get something like a new pan, and suddenly this bitch speaks up like. “shame its not a soccer ball.. this is why you suck.” someone tape his mouth now.

★ BAROU : PARTY HOST

helped hosting the party, cleaned the house spotless! he also probably cooked 70% of the food, thats what growing with sisters gets you :b. doubled as a security guard of sorts outside the house. except he didn’t ask for identification, he’d yell at you to take your dang shoes off before you walk in. spill anything on the floor? he is coming for you and your entire bloodline.. just kidding!

★ BACHIRA : “SANTA’S REAL..”

unironically believes santa is real, please help this man. to this date he still puts cookies and milk on the table. his mother used to eat them and keep a couple of presents under the tree, thinking he’ll eventually realise santa isn’t real.. which he didn’t. so when the presents suddenly stopped coming and no one ate the cookies, he thought he was on the naughty list forever and sobbed about it for 20 minutes.. poor guy. his heart shattered when isagi held his hand and told him santa isn’t real—he was only trying to help, he swears!

★ SHIDOU : “BRO YOU WEREN’T INVITED???”

shidou is the complete contrast from bachira. does not believe santa is real and crashes the party ( he was not invited. ) yells at children that santa isn’t real and started a tomato war at the party when someone threw a tomato at him and yelled booo! … thankfully, he was later kicked out.

★ ISAGI : SANTA.. NOT REALLY!

epitome of santa, the opposite of kaiser. made hand-made gifts for everyone.. well, almost everyone. ( did not bring one for kaiser <3 ) he had a mini concert at the party, singing his heart out until someone kaiser burst out laughing and started mocking his singing.. things got a little heated from there! lets just say the title of santa was taken away from isagi the moment his ass opened his mouth 💔

★ OTOYA : “WHERE THE HOES AT”

came for the hoes cause he was told there would be a bunch of hotties at the party, which there wasn’t.. but thats okay, he swings both ways! assaulted chigiri with his ninja moves until he got bored, probably pulled up a 10 slide presentation on why he should introduce him to his sister and that he’s got ‘the experience’.. yeah, he got slapped in the face.

★ KARASU : HO ACT LIKE HE A JUDGE..

everybody hates him. constantly judging literally everything.. “these cookies ‘r mediocre at best..” “i could gift ya somethin’ better cutie.” “damn, these decorations lame as hell.” you get the point. starts pouting like a man-child when isagi tells him to shut the hell up, he knows he deserves it but he just can’t help the lil itch in his brain to judge everything okay! ( he just like me fr.. red flag moment 💔 )

★ AIKU : HOES BEFORE BROS

cool unc of the party, drinks are on him alright. i can imagine him grabbing a random sharpie he found on a desk and suddenly giving out tattoo’s for a dollar, broke ass. works pretty efficiently until he’s being labelled a scammer when the tattoo turns out to look like dog shit.. cut him some slack, he’s no artist! leaves the party early when one of his hoes text him to come over.. ima slap the shit out of him n eita ���

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Aight aight we gotta talk. Get a snack, cause this is kind of a rant.

NOT SPOILER FREE!

Like I said before, things were really busy yesterday so while I did pull Zayne's card, I didn't actually get around to watching it until now. Prior to watching this I saw a lot of negativity surrounding discussions of this memory, Absolute Zeal. Lots of people complaining that they had problems with them "pretending to be strangers" and that the morning after felt like a "one night stand".

Allow me to offer some of my thoughts on this. Again, these are purely my thoughts on this memory, and if anyone didn't know, Zayne is my main so lemme have my moment to defend this card.

The only glaringly obvious problem I had with this one was the fact that MC intentionally let Zayne consume alcohol knowing he avoids it. Now to me, if someone says they dont eat/drink a certain thing, I go out of my way to make sure they don't end up consuming it. And she did it because why? She got flustered that Zayne admitted to having deep feelings for her and she got embarrassed? Not good enough and lazy writing imo.

Complaints about them pretending to be strangers. Imo, couples pretending to strangers sometimes is not new. MC was just trying to get him to admit something deeper beyond his normal care for her, and it looks like she got more than she asked for with him admitting that the thought of life without her would be the definition of true loneliness. Now moving on to the aftermath.

We know Zayne is a lightweight. It's no surprise that he got tipsy. And once MC sees what happened to him, it does look like she regretted her actions and obviously tries to comfort him through this process. Btw, I thought tipsy Zayne was adorable, the way the VA was slurring his words was really cute. MC keeps insisting on giving Zayne hangover pills which he refuses and he keeps trying to initiate things with her, and she does do a decent job warding off his attention at the beginning because he's drunk.

Now here's where a lot of the discussions I read seem to baffle me. A lot of people seem to be equating Zayne's advances on MC as almost grapey. Like how drunk men take advantage of women then try to excuse their behavior because they had been drinking. I simply didn't get this vibe here? MC and Zayne have established a lot together and I genuinely feel that MC would have firmly said no if she wasn't feeling it and Zayne would have listened to her.

Secondly, MC doesn't seem to know that Zayne loses control of his evol when inebriated. Granted, there doesn't seem to be a set of fixed criteria for this to happen, so it was a coin toss imo. But when she does see it happening, she realizes her mistake and is so soft with him, reassuring him that she loves him and that he doesn't need to change anything about himself. People seemed to almost blame her saying she did this for the sake of fun and she wanted him to lose control? Maybe she did but not in this way.

Zayne on the other hand seemed almost insecure when drunk, perhaps because he knows how in control he is and he may have felt a surprising sense of freedom when he saw how he was? Basically put, he wasn't aware of how the alcohol would affect him and perhaps he saw himself as more easygoing in that moment? There's going to be insecurity and vulnerability in relationships, especially long term ones. Like geez, give the guy a break. Things like this happen, it's natural to be awkward when you're stepping out of your comfort zone.

To him, he feels like he's breaking rules like drinking alcohol and being uncharacteristically dominating over MC, but maybe alongside that confusion there's also a rush of excitement that he could be this person? There's a lot happening, and I can appreciate his struggle in not knowing how to process this.

Now the other thing that people seem to be complaining about; something about Zayne and MC being shy around each other the morning after and acting like they had a one night stand instead of being a couple that's been together for some time. Couples can still feel awkwardness with each other no matter how long they've been together if they do something that is new or out of the norm for them.

As someone that's been married for a significant amount of time, I'd like to say that due to reasons, my husband doesn't drink either, and I drink very sparingly. If he had done something very out of character regarding sex, I think both of us would have been shy while we have the discussion afterwards. It's not out of character.

And both of them needed to get his car back from the hospital and return to work. They found reassurance in their relationship being there for them despite them being busy. Because at the end of the day, people can go for hours without talking while at work (speaking from personal experience here) and also be perfect cuddlebugs when you're both back at home.

Zayne here gets the affirmation that MC always loves him despite his controlled, slightly colder presentation, and MC gets to see that Zayne is willing to anything for her, even be drunk and be this alternate version of himself of that's what makes her happy.

I didn't see anything in this card that made me hate it or even think it wasn't hot. It was INCREDIBLY spicy, especially him saying things spiral out of control when she's around. It's said in such a ragged way, like he's almost in awe of what he's willing to do for her. In the end, it feels like they didn't quite have sex but there was definitely an intense makeout session and some wandering hands for sure. Which I feel would be more in character for them not wanting to take advantage of his drunkeness.

People saying Zayne will never initiate something hot like this again because he was only doing it while drunk? Zayne does initiate, it's just more subtle than this. And now that he's seen that MC isn't opposed to being a little manhandled, he might do it again perfectly sober. A lot of his control comes from his insecurity of imagining how life would be without her.

So to people hating on this card, I almost feel like you're being critical of the fact that Zayne and MC seem to be the most "married". Marriage and even long term relationships have partners go through bouts of doubt and insecurity but that in no way reflects the depth of the relationship.

There. End rant. Sorry for unloading so much on New Years. Have an awesome day my lovelies!

[tuttle-did-it]

With you on all of this. I wanted to like Deanna. But the show seemed to decide that if Riker liked her, that was enough to make us like her.

But if I had been on this ship, I would have found it offensive that someone could just drill into my brain like that. I would have avoided her like the plague-- because I do find it quite invasive to have someone know how I was feeling and why-- all the time. I would feel incredibly vulnerable around someone like that-- if she was as powerful as they say, she could easily not only detect what people were feeling, but also influence that. I would hate being near someone like that because I am possessive of my thoughts and feelings. Certain topics-- especially tv-- sure, I can talk about feelings about that. But real life stuff? My past, traumas, etc? Those are mine. And someone seeing through them and announcing them to the whole bridge crew whenever she felt like it-- or even having the ability to do that-- I would steer clear of her.

And instead of them just insisting it is moral and fine and giving us what-- one single episode where they acknowledge how much power she could have over someone, how vulnerable it could make people around her? How easily she could fuck people over if she wanted to? Play with that a bit more. Have people uncomfortable around her. Have her trying to deal with crew who avoid her like the plague. Have crew who refuse to work with her, have some fucking conflict *somewhere.* have her do something bloody unethical where she crosses a line because she is so powerful and it causes actual problems instead of 'he's angry, captain,' and 'what do you think?' And 'how does that make you feel?' Either she's powerful and there are consequences for that power, or she os not powerful and there are consequences for that, too. But you're right-- everything she says, Beverly could have figured out as well.

Or, hell-- when Troi loses her powers, give her 12 episodes where she is trying to get it back. Where she has to prove she is more than just a lie detector machine. Where she has to become more. Data advanced from his programming. But none of the others ever did. And it was the worst with Troi. Give us a whole season where she has to prove she's more. Where sometimes bits of her powers are coming back, but then they blink out again. Where she just has to work for it and prove that no, she deserves to be there even without the powers. She is good enough to be there without them. Then, maybe she gets them back, maybe not. I honestly think she'd have been a better character of they *didn't* return. Shed have to find *something* more to say than 'he's angry, captain.' 'They're hiding something, captain.' It just makes him look incompetent not to see that. So take away her powers and make her work for it.

She's not a good therapist. I've gone to therapy, a lot. And the advice she gives people is worse than the shit you'd see from chat gpt. She's a terrible therapist. At least make her competent. At least hire a psychologist who can say 'she needs to dig deeper here, she can't just say 'and how does that make you feel?' Thats awful therapy. Barclay was a mess before she met him, but her 'counselling' just does absolutely nothing.

I wanted to like Troi. I genuinely have tried for decades to find something I like about her, some story about her I can care about. And there is just nothing for me. I cared more about Tasha in s1 and 'Yesterday's Enterprise' than I ever cared about Troi. I cared more about Ro Laren in her debut episode than I ever cared about Troi. More about Pulaski in a single season. More about Beverly in a single scene than I ever cared about Troi. Which is sad and absurd because she's in the show twice as much as these women-- maybe more of them all put together. She had to ability to be such a great character. The writing failed, hands down. But the other actors brought something more to their characters, made them feel more real and fleshed out despite the shoddy scripts. I don't feel the same with Marina. I genuinely would have preferred to kill off Troi and keep Tasha (had Denise wanted to stay, I get why she didn't) or to have Beverly or Ro in more often. Troi is one of the most useless characters I've ever seen in Trek. Which is sad cos Trek has quite a fee useless characters.

Agree with Odo comments as well-- it was a stroke of genius that they made Odo a shapeshifter who could be anything. Except he can't because he's bad at it. And it hurts him. Was it for budget reasons and to avoid plots becoming way too easy? Yes. But they did something with it that pushed his storyline forward and gave him conflict. And it gave him an inner trauma that he needed to fix-- to the point where he does things *very* against his own ideals and morals just to try to get answers about who he was, and where he came from. By making his talent his trauma, they invited that story, that discomfort of others around him, his own discomfort about himself and his people, that was just a brilliant way to deal with it.

They *eventually* did the same thing with Wesley-- his genius (which they could only show by making all the other qualified adults around him very stupid-- eventually became his trauma. Became the thing that hurt him and kept him distant from others. And it actually worked really well! It was sad they waited til s7 to give him those cracks and issues, but there were a few tiny fractures in earlier seasons do when it did happen, it made sense. It actually ended up being a fantastic story arc. The thing that made him special was also the thing that hurt him.

There were no consequences to Troi having 1000+ worth of people's emotions every day other than her getting a bit tired and needing some chocolate. Okay? And? We met another Betazoid who completely fell apart just being around one person, let alone a ship of people. And I cared more about Tam in that one single episode than i ever cared about Troi. Make it harder on her. Make it hurt her sometimes. Make her talent her achilles heel. They did it with Tam. Data. Odo. But they couldn't do it with her. So they just stuffed her in spandex and had her say 'and how does that make you feel?' For 7 years.

But DS9 was the only legacy Trek that wasn't desperately allergic to consequence. I wish DS9 had more consequence-- poor O'Brien should have had at least a couple mental breakdowns. But they did what they could with the formula at the time.

star trek characters will literally go through the most life changing traumatic multidimensional extrasensory eldritch hell torture imaginable and then they're fine and the next episode they gotta deal with a guy who is bald

[slimybeth69]

Thirst: Part 6

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: There's a bunch y'all and I'm not giving any of them away because it would spoil the chapter. So, this is your warning: 18+ themes after the cut!! BEWARE!!!!

Chapter Summary: Your life in the tower was a thing of the past- is that a good thing?

a/n: Heyyyyy, so I've been the most nervous about THIS chapter since I started writing this story. It's... different. So have fun!! And also lets imagine that bows and arrows don't exist. (This is non-canon to the movie)

Series Masterlist

Your beautiful tower is a thing of the past. It’s been days since you slept there – or even stepped foot inside it. 

Now that you're no longer in your wonderful room, with its big soft mattress and comfortable sheets, you're forced to share a bed with someone you do not like. It’s all too reminiscent of when you were living at the brothel – except the man you were now forced into such close proximity with didn’t even want to touch you.

Hanno The Barbarian is what the Emperors had called him. 

You are sure they had hoped he would rape you, or kill you, but instead he treats you as if you do not exist.

You were supposed to be the one to service him after his fights, should he be fortunate enough to survive. You would have, but apparently he is just one more man who won't let you touch him. It feels as though the gods are laughing at you.

From what you have observed, Hanno isn't like the rest of the brutish men who fight and die in the pit. He's quiet. He’s never impulsive. At times he almost seems gentle. Though he’s undefeated and feared for his ferocity in the games, you wonder whether he would hurt anyone at all if he were given the choice.

Hanno won't speak to you or let you attend to his injuries. You might as well not even be there.

How did you end up here? For a time, it seemed like there was a chance of putting the girl you’d been behind you. You wouldn’t always be another girl who was bought and sold to ease the worries or fulfill the pleasures of men. For a time, you thought it might even be possible to feel loved and cared about. 

You had actually begun to feel that contentment – for a few brief moments – before the fantasy dissolved with the arrival of a slave trader at your door. 

There had been no guards outside your quarters, no handmaids to explain to you what was happening. There was just this man with his charming smile and soothing voice, delivering terrible news.

“Acacius said your time together has come to an end. You need to come with me.”

General Marcus Acacius had sold you. 

You felt numb as you took the man’s hand and left your rooms, but with each step down the staircase that numbness was replaced by a deep ache in your chest. It felt like someone had extracted your heart, carved ‘foolish’ into the flesh, and then replaced it back inside your broken ribs.

After the night you had shared, Marcus had abandoned you without a word. He never told you where he was going, or when he’d be back.

How could you have been so naive? to let yourself set your hopes on his beautiful empty words.

Of course it was too good to be true.

He had sold you to be a new plaything for the emperors, and he had been too much of a coward to hand you over himself. 

When you arrived at the palace, the memory of those tender promises he'd whispered to you—promises of a new life in a new place—turned to burning, bitter rage. You let that rage fill your chest, burying whatever hurt still remained.

Like spoiled children, the twins hated to see anyone enjoying something that they didn’t have, and the favored pet of their recalcitrant general was the ultimate prize. 

It was no secret that the twins had wanted to see what all the fuss had been about but you refused them violently each time. 

Even with the threat of torture and then eventual death, you never folded. Never once let them put their hands on you. 

You had smiled in their faces when the guards dragged you from their bed chambers sneering, "Death is better than the little one's weeping cock." 

That’s how you ended up down here though, in the gladiatorial bathhouse, watching Hanno soak. 

“Does it hurt badly?” You nod your head towards the relatively large gash on his left pectoral.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at you when he shrugs his shoulders. 

There is a moment where you want to shove his head under the water and hold him there. Then, there is the part of you that knows he isn’t here because he would like to be. He is a prisoner just like you. 

With a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes, you grab the clean rag on the side of the stone tub and dip it into the warm water. Instead of reaching out to him, trying to do it yourself, you just hand him the now dripping piece of cloth. 

Hanno stares at it for a moment, as though this is a foreign gesture to him. Kindness. Care. 

“I know you understand me, I know you can speak as well,” you urge him to take what’s in your hand, and wave the other towards the iron barred door.  “I’ve heard you talking to the others.”

“Why is it so important that I speak to you?” His voice is much deeper up close and when he’s not whispering to the healing men that come to stitch up the fighters, or the other gladiators themselves.

It’s jarring how his voice plucks at each one of your veins like the strings of an instrument. You’re almost vibrating off the side of the tub. “It’s not important, it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Instead of just talking to myself…or the wall.” 

Hanno snorts softly and takes the rag from you. He dips it back into the steaming water and lifts it gently to his chest. He winces and sucks air in between his clenched teeth. 

“I knew it hurt,” you tease him lightly. 

His eyes shoot up to yours, like he’s angry with you for even speaking– there’s a darkness to them that you’ve never seen before, but there is also a smirk playing across his lips. “You talk too much,” he growls and now the smirk feels malicious with the way his eyes are narrowed on you.

“Now I wonder why I ever wanted you to start talking,” you grumble, feeling foolish for trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been down here with you for days, and that is the first thing you can say to me?” You try to swallow down the lump that’s forming in your throat. “I didn’t banish you to these cells. I’m stuck here, just like you.” 

Hanno releases the now crimson-stained cloth into the murky water. "I apologize," he murmurs, but his words echo in the eerie stillness of the dungeon. "Everything here seems like a twisted joke..."

“What do you mean?” 

The water sloshes against the side of the tub lightly as he sinks further into the comforting warmth. You think it might be the only comfort Hanno receives anywhere in this place. 

It’s more comfort than you’ve been able to find, and you’ve been searching. Looking for something safe and constant since long before you became a plaything for the Emperors. 

"You..." Hanno trails off, his tone rising in a question rather than a statement.

Your nostrils flare in defense, “...have been discarded by the ones I love and treated like an animal by the morally depraved—” Your words come out bitterly because it is true. 

“You call me depraved?” He hisses, “Have you seen those men dripping in gold, wearing lavish robes—” 

“Who do you think appointed me to be your special companion ? You thought I volunteered for this?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I would give anything to just go home.”

This is your home now, unfortunately. A cell shared with a gladiator. What happens if Hanno is able to buy his freedom? Or, more likely, when he’s finally killed in the pit? What will you do then?

"What brought you here, to Rome?" he asks, turning the conversation back to you.

“Money.” The word slips out before you can stop it, it’s wrapped up in sadness and a hint of disdain. "My family was struggling, our farm was failing, and the taxes were impossible. And not out of cruelty, but desperation— I became the price of its survival."

Hanno's expression shifts to something that resembles pity, tangled with a strange understanding. "So your family sold you to the Emperors?" he asks, running the wet cloth across his wounded chest.

"I was sold to a brothel and then bought by a man, and then sold again to a different man who then brought me here." You shake your head at your sad story of a life. "The Emperors wanted to bed me, but I fought them, told them I would rather die—"

"So they sent you down here?" He laughs, but you don't get the impression he's laughing at you or your misfortune. It's almost a chuckle of disbelief. "Worse than death, I assume— for someone like you."

"That was their thinking, but apparently they chose the one gladiator that has no interest in getting his cock wet." You can't help but feel like that alone is a win. Hanno hasn’t hurt you, so they don't get the satisfaction. They lost.

The iron door suddenly clangs open. A guard appears and he looms in the doorway, "Cleaning time is over," he barks. "Back to your cell."

Marcus groans loudly as Lucilla finishes straightening the clasps that hold his cape around his shoulders.

“Can’t you act as if you don’t hate doing this?” Lucilla asks with a sour look on her face. “You and I both know they get a rise out of the fact that you do not enjoy-”

“I just came back from the road and barely had time to wash my ass,” Marcus grumbles, letting his wife adjust the golden clasps on his cape. "This is just another way for them to show me that I’m under their thumbs, but not for much longer—"

Lucilla scolds him softly,“You cannot speak that way, not here.” She glances around nervously, looking for ears that may be listening to conversations that aren’t meant for them. “You act as if we are already free,” she whispers almost silently in his ear.

Marcus will always have love for Lucilla in his heart, that’s why he knows he would never leave her behind to fend for herself.

Lucilla had been through so much in her life— the murder of her father, the corruption and cruelty of her brother, Commodus, and ultimately Maximus. 

After Commodus was killed, Lucilla did not have one blood relative to keep her safe here in Rome- to protect her. As an upcoming General, Marcus knew that the only way to ensure her safety was to marry her.

The Colosseum is loud, chaotic, and packed with spectators. It's too hot, and there isn't enough wine for Marcus to pretend he’s enjoying himself. He sits rigid and uncomfortable in the imperial box.

The twins, Geta and Caracalla, sit just in front of Marcus and his wife.

Caracalla looks over his shoulder, "Enjoying the spectacle, General?"

"As always, Emperor." Marcus knows better than to show any sign of discomfort. Years of military training have taught him to maintain a neutral expression, even as his mind races with thoughts of you.

Alone in that forsaken room, longer than ever before. He knows you probably hate him, and he’ll have to make it up to you. He would do whatever it took, he just wishes he didn’t have to.

"We have a special match today. One you might find…interesting." Geta says with a mirthless chuckle 

Marcus wonders what the hell that could mean. The fights always end in one way – many men dead and only one victor. This is truly a sport invented by men who have only known the comfort of a palace. Real soldiers have seen too much death to find entertainment in it.

The roar of the crowd grows louder as two gladiators enter the arena. Marcus recognizes one of them as the newest fighter— The Barbarian. He’s made a name for himself in the pit and impresses Marcus with his strength and cunning every time.

Lucilla has even taken an interest in him, and that’s very unlike her. This brutal sport only brings up painful memories for her, but Marcus notices her leaning forward in her chair, trying to get a better view of the fighter.

The roar of the crowd becomes a drone as Marcus’s mind drifts to you again – wondering where you are, what you're doing.

The last time he saw you had been the morning after your shared night together. You were begging him not to go with tears rolling down your face. It broke his heart every time he had to pull his hands out of yours, surprised by your strength when you were so desperate for him to stay close to you.

Once this fight was over, Marcus would run straight to you. He would kiss your tears away, lick them off your cheeks and whisper apologies in your ear.

He would never be away from you ever again. Tonight was the night that the three of you would escape the necrotic touch of the Emperors.

“Does The Barbarian look familiar to you at all?” Lucilla’s quiet voice in his ear brings him back to the arena, and the two men fighting— well, no, it’s just the young man now. His opponent was dead at his feet.

Marcus takes a closer glance at the man- barely a man, a boy really. There is a certain familiarity in the way he stood. Even the way he fought was like something or someone Marcus had seen before, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’m not sure,” he turns to look at his wife and sees the worry behind her eyes. “Do you recognize him?”

Lucilla doesn’t get a chance to answer.

The loud booming voice of the announcer fills the arena once again. "The Barbarian is once again— victorious!" He bellows.

The crowd goes wild. The new gladiator has been a favorite since he arrived in Rome as a prisoner of war. A war that Marcus had brought to that young man's land and home. That was the story of many of these gladiators, and Marcus tried to forget their faces at night but it was nearly impossible.

"General, are you listening?" Geta is standing beside Marcus now, whispering in his ear. "You'll want to be sure to hear this…"

Marcus dials back into what is being said by the announcer.

"…very interesting game to play!"

He only catches the last bit, and now he strains his eyes to see what's happening in the sandy pit below him.

The Barbarian is being handed another sword by a guard who runs back into one of the tunnels that lead into the arena.

"Our victor has one more opponent to fight, a beast with fur, teeth and razor sharp claws!" The man announcing makes a grand show with the thematic way he talks. "But this is no ordinary fight, our Barbarian has something very important to protect!"

This was quite interesting. Marcus has never seen a fight like this before.

"Bring in 'The Golden Girl'"

For a moment, this means nothing to Marcus and he wonders who the new female gladiator could be. 

It's not until you walk out, wearing a gown that mimics the tunic he's wearing now- white and gold - that he realizes what has happened.

Marcus’s hands tense on the arms of the chair as he tries to steady his breathing.

The Barbarian turns to face you as you quickly make your way to him, but his stance is protective, not aggressive. Something about the way he looks at you, the way he pushes you behind him, suggests he knows you. 

Marcus isn’t sure he understands what’s going on— you don’t have fur or teeth, or razor sharp claws. You’re far from a beast.

Lucilla's hand finds Marcus's arm, her grip is tight, as though she senses something is wrong. "What’s going to happen to that girl?" she whispers. Marcus glances at her, watching her eyes darting between you, the Barbarian and the only tunnel with an open gate.

The announcer starts to speak, Marcus only just able to hear him over the deafening roar of the blood in his ears, and his own heartbeat thudding wildly in his chest. It reverberates in his whole body like that of the drum used during battle– sending signals and commands to his troops.

“Someone in our audience surely is brave enough to help our gladiator defend this little bird.”

This beating inside his chest is a signal. A command to go to you. Run to you– jump out of this damn imperial box just to hold you in his arms.

The announcer continues to shout nonsense, but Marcus is no longer listening. He only feels his throat constrict, watching you in the arena. Wondering what’s in store for you, and how he’s the one who put you there. This is what he had been so afraid of.

The white and gold gown you're wearing catches the sunlight, making you look ethereal, while still terrified.

Your eyes are glued to the back of the gladiators head, and Marcus can see the tears in them from here. He feels as though he may be sick. Lucilla’s hand on his arm grips— her fingernails digging into his skin. Marcus can feel her staring at him.

“You know her,” she breathes.

“I do.”

Marcus isn’t ashamed that Lucilla can see you, or that she even knows about you now— she had known about the lover Marcus had wanted to take before he had even met you. This was something that had been spoken about, considered and then agreed upon, with one condition from Lucilla.

To be taken somewhere she could find love again, a real passionate love that wouldn’t be taken from her. A place where she may then search for her son without the threat of deadly Emperor’s.

Lucilla had even offered to house you in her private, guarded villa and Marcus refused, saying it was too dangerous to have his mistress so close to home.

Rome was dangerous and now he could kick himself.

“That’s your Dove?” Lucilla whispers into his ear.

Shocked, Marcus twists his head to look at her curiously but says nothing. He only cocks one eyebrow as Lucilla loosens her grip on his arm.

“You’ve spoken of her in your sleep,” she sounds heartbroken, but Marcus knows it’s not because she’s hurt by his indiscretions, but because he’s had to be away from you for so long. Lucilla looks as though she were in real physical pain for him. “Go to her and keep her safe, Acacius.”

“It looks as though she may need another defender, General.” Geta’s haughty tone sends a violent shiver down Marcus'sspine.

There are three thoughts going through Marcus'smind as he leaves the imperial box.

Rescue you. Kill the Emperors. Get out of Rome.

“Get out there!” A guard growls and pushes you out of the darkened tunnel that leads you into the gladiator pit.

You stumble, but keep your footing and finally look around. There are more eyes locked onto you than you could ever imagine. More eyes looking at you now than ever before and probably ever again.

Hanno is in the center of the pit and when his eyes fall on you, they go wide with surprise- like he cannot believe you’re here.

You can’t really believe it either; you had just been sitting in your cell, imagining the last time you and Marcus had been together.

Marcus stirs in his sleep as you gaze down at his handsomeness. You are completely blessed by the gods that such a good looking man wanted to lock you away from everyone else so he could keep you all to himself. That was very flattering and you cannot deny that, not one bit. It makes a liquid heat pool in your belly whenever you think about it. “I think…I could be in love with you,” you mouth, no sound coming out of your mouth. “Please don’t let me down.” It feels like a prayer to him, as well as the gods above that this isn’t some ruse to make you bear a child for his wife or worse… just a terrible joke to make him feel powerful? Important and desired? Marcus sleeps peacefully through your supplications, and you’re thankful because even though you have doubt in your heart about his feelings and plans; you just want him to sleep. Despite everything, you need him to know that this place in bed next to you is calm and quiet. It’s safe here with you. Whatever you feel for Marcus is strong- whether it’s love, or infatuation, or a desperation to feel desired, it’s there and without much you can do about it, that feeling swells inside of you. Even though you wish it wouldn’t. Looking down at him– his normally neatly styled hair was wild and unkempt from the numerous times you had it between your fingers. You were pulling and tugging on it as he licked, sucked and fucked you into countless orgasms throughout the night. You brush a stray curl away from his forehead gently but his hand flies to your wrist and grips it tightly. As his eyes open and he sees it’s only you and not an enemy, his fingers loosen, and he brings the sensitive skin of your inner wrist to his lips. “Luna Flora…you should know better… than to disturb a… soldier in his sleep,” he murmurs sleepily through soft kisses against your pulse point. You gasp, startled by his sudden alertness. Positive he can hear the sound of your heartbeat, as well as feel it on his lips, you whisper, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you." He’s looking at you with such deep concentration with his perfect brown eyes, that it steals the breath from your lungs. "Don’t be," he yawns and stretches his body until he’s quivering before wrapping you up in his arms, tugging your body back into his. “Never be sorry. I would always choose to spend time with you awake, over the time I spend with you in my dreams.”

Then a guard came, threw this eerily familiar white and gold tunic at you, told to change and then forced up the seemingly endless set of stairs.

“Bring in The Golden Girl!”

That name, the way it’s said, the way Hanno is looking at you is telling you that this isn’t a normal fight.

The announcer continues, “She’s someone very special to someone in the crowd. I wonder who could know this beautiful bird?”

The more the voice from the pit speaks, the more you feel like your knees might buckle. Beautiful bird-- like a Dove? What on earth is he saying?

Everything else falls as Hanno closes the space between the two of you, putting himself between you and the only open tunnel. All the others have an iron gate keeping you trapped inside.

“What’s happening?” Your voice is hoarse. It feels like your mouth is full of the same sand you’re standing in.

Hanno doesn’t turn to look at you, but he reaches for you blindly, finding your forearm and pushing you further behind him to shield you with his body. “Stay behind me the entire time. Do. Not. Run.”

“What do you mean, run?” Your heart, which was already threatening to hammer its way out from behind your rib cage- starts beating faster somehow. “What would I run from?”

The terrible thoughts begin to race through your head at what could be lurking in that dark tunnel. The seconds tick by so slowly and all the sounds inside the arena blend into one. You can’t even make out the announcer anymore over the roar of the crowd- but you had stopped listening because his words were confusing, and for some reason they hurt.

A real physical pain that you could pinpoint. It hurts in your chest– because those names were things The Traitor called you, and it’s impossible to think that he sold you into this. He went and told the twin Emperors his names for you! It makes you feel foolish to think at one point you thought they were sweet, but in all seriousness, they turned out to be cruel, his little endearments for you.

You could cry right here in the pit, knowing you were probably going to die violently and in front of so many people.

“Dove…”

What!? That voice!? The Traitor?

You reel around, now face to face with Marcus and his traitorous handsomeness. It’s so hard to not feel like you’re melting. Barefoot in the scorching sand that burns, and the sun that hasn’t stopped fucking beating down on you since you walked out here. And now, under his gaze– you feel like it’s all slipping away from you.

“What are you doing here? How–” That’s all he says before you’re being pushed behind him, now shielded by both men as a sound cuts through the crowd.

Blood curdling, a deep bellowing call that reverberates off the walls of the tunnel as the beast makes its way into the pit.

It’s the biggest thing you’ve ever seen- and you lived on a farm with horses and cows. Bulls, too! It’s a bear, big and brown with matted fur. Mangled by fights that it had emerged victorious from. Now it stands at the mouth of that darkened tunnel and all you want to do is hide. You look for an escape but there is none.

At the mercy of Marcus and Hanno, and the gods above once again, you plant you feet into the sand and pray that nothing bad happens to you.

If it does, let it be quick.

The stones that build up the Colosseum are hot against your back. It's where you've been since the fight started. Marcus kept himself between you and the bear the entire fight, but eventually you got pushed aside and crawled to the perimeter of the arena.

Marcus pulls his sword from the bear's neck with a loud, wet squelch, his chest heaving. Hanno- bloodied and bruised, drops to his knees beside the animals lifeless form. They won, but not without their own injuries.

Marcus's head wheels around the arena, and stops when his eyes meet yours. With his sword still clutched tightly in his hand, he runs to you where you're crouched against the wall.

It's like it's happening in slow motion as he pulls you to your feet, his strong, eyes roaming every inch of you. His hands begin frantically searching your body as he pulls you into his chest, "Are you wounded? Did anything—"

There had been rage inside of you before, but not like this. "Get off of me!" You growl and attempt to push yourself away from him, but he doesn't budge.

One of his bloody hands cups your face, wiping the dirt and sand away from your face, exposing the black eye and the laceration on your cheek—given to you by the Emperors as a parting gift before being sent to the dungeons.

The cut stings when he touches it, and you wince and pull away from him. "Get off me!" You hiss, hands still pushing firmly on his chest.

"Who did that to you?" Marcus growls, his eyes scanning the arena looking for the culprit.

"The men you sold me to!" You nearly scream at him. A hush falls over the crowd. "Did you think the twins would accept 'no' from their newest pet?"

Marcus's eyes darken, and his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. "I never sold you." His eyes fall on the imperial box. "You're no one's pet."

You follow his gaze, and look up at the Emperors. The charming man who had come to your room in the night to take you away sitting behind them-- with one of your trusted chambermaids on his left.

"I'll kill her," you spit, eyes narrowing on the woman you would have, at one time, considered a friend. "Traitor. I'll fucking kill her!"

Marcus places one hand on your chest and pushes you behind him once again, shielding you from the eyes of those standing above you.

Caracalla, the brat- the whiny and entitled one that wanted to watch you flayed for refusing his pus-oozing cock. “Kill her –  kill the whore!” he shouts. “Barbarian, pick up your sword! I want to see her blood spilled on the sand!”

Hanno, who is still kneeling beside the dead beast, drops his weapon. “I would die before I follow another demand of a false emperor—I will not harm her!" He shouts up to them, the crowd roars at his defiance.

Geta holds up a hand for silence, “I’m not as impetuous as my brother— the beast had its chance, and it was the will of the gods that the whore should live. But, as she is yet unclaimed, she –”

“She is mine!” Marcus’s voice snaps through the air. A shocked murmur rolls through the crowd, and Geta’s face tenses into a mask of barely contained fury. “You call her a whore, but for all your money and power she wouldn’t even allow you a taste, because she is mine.”

You are still clinging to his back, and with the echo of his last three words you feel a fire ignite in your veins. You are his. He had never abandoned you.

Those men in that box lied to you, tried to take you from Marcus, and then tried to taint your body with their touch.

Now you want them humiliated.

“Take me, Marcus. Right now,” your hoarse whisper reaches his ear. "Let them watch."

He looks down and meets your eyes just long enough for you to see the dark determination mirroring your emotions. Your lips crash together hungrily in a kiss of tongues and teeth. You nip desperately at his lower lip before he pulls away, his hand holding you by the back of your neck.

“On your knees, my Dove” he growls into your mouth.

At the sound of Marcus’s words, the molten feeling grows low in your belly and seeps to your core. You turn to face the podium and drop to your knees. You feel him lower himself behind you, his thick, muscular thighs bracketing your own, his sword discarded in the sand next to you.

One broad hand grips the scruff of your neck and pushes you forward, the other is dragging up the skirt of your gown. “See how she gives herself to me,” Marcus grunts loudly as two of his fingers notch themselves at your dripping entrance. “See how she’s ready and waiting for me?”

The tips of his digits trace along you slick velvet folds before slipping them inside of you, pumping them in and out, gathering your excitement.

Marcus withdraws his fingers and holds them up towards the imperial box, spreading them so the audience can see your sticky arousal clinging to, and strung out between them.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, a mixture of shock and intrigue. You can hear laughter mingling with the disdainful whispers, but all eyes are locked on you.

“This,” Marcus declares, “is yours to witness, Emperors. This is the fire that burns in her belly, for me alone.” 

He reaches around to grip your chin in his hand, forcing your head up to meet their gaze. “Let them look at you, let them see your face.” he growls quietly, his breath hot against your ear.

“Look at her,” Marcus rumbles with a possessiveness that vibrates through your being. “Look at how she craves me.” His fingers return, but this time not to tease; this time they plunge deeper.

A moan is torn from your throat loudly as his fingers stretch you open. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you, it’s like the first time all over again. You arch your back, pushing against him as he quickens his pace.

Laughter erupts from the imperial box, Caracalla’s voice cutting through the noise, “Look at her! The whore— with such pathetic displays of pleasure! Whore!” His words drip with disgust, but they only fuel the fire inside you.

Anger curls around your spine and you push harder against the next thrust of Marcus’s fingers, forcing another moan from your mouth.

Geta’s voice rises, his expression tight. “You truly wish to save her? She is nothing but an animal-” 

“She is no animal - but she has a beast to defend her.”

You gasp as you feel Marcus rub the tip of his cock along your slit. He circles your clit once, twice, three times before he’s positioning himself at your tight hole. 

Without warning, without any gentle words, he bottoms out inside of you. It feels like your eyes are going to fall out of your head, your teeth almost slice through your bottom lip as the searing stretch surges through your entire body- from your hair to your toes. 

A cry cursing all the gods, the Emperors before you, and the Emperors yet to rule falls out of your mouth as Marcus sets a bruising pace. 

“You see how she lets me claim her?” Marcus pumps his length in and out of you harshly, his thighs slapping against the back of your legs, his free hand gripping your waist now. The hand that had been cupping your chin now finds your hair, keeping your head out of the sand and tilted up to look at the pale, pitiful men gazing down at you. 

You can’t keep quiet, and it doesn’t really seem like Marcus wants to you to the way he he’s fucking into you so brutally. You cry out, scream his name, beg for him to slow down. You whimper for mercy, but it’s starting to become delectable- the way you stretch around his cock. The entire length of him sliding inside until his drooling tip grazes your cervix. It’s jolting, and has you seeing stars shoot across your vision.

In the background, mixed in with the rest of the noise, the announcer says something about the way Marcus is taking you, it’s muffled by the pleasure coursing through you.

Marcus came down here to fight for you, to keep you safe. He did care and he didn’t want to lose you and watching him defend you—

That’s why you were dripping before the bear was even dead. Watching Marcus in action, fighting to keep you alive– as furious as you were at him – had ignited a fire inside you. 

That flame was engulfing your entire body now as he led you to an orgasm in front of what felt like the entire world.

Marcus grips your hair tighter as he slams himself inside of you over and over. Every single fiber of you can feel Marcus as your walls flutter around him. “Sucking me right in,” he growls. “Taking me so fucking well. Tell them who you belong to,” Marcus barks at you, the hand on your waist connects with the fleshy globe of your ass with a loud crack that cuts through the air. 

“M-Marcus– oh gods, Marcus! You, I b-belong to you” You keen loudly, trying so hard to keep your eyes open so you can stare at the men who tried to turn you against the man inside of you now. “I’m yours… forever.”

It’s just a throaty cry of his name as the defined ridge around the head, and each inch of his throbbing length that follows strike and then glides across that sweet spot inside of you. It’s bliss as you come undone on him, feeling like you’re being torn in two; and then three, and then put back together again by his cock. 

“That’s it, my perfect girl,” Marcus grunts in a throaty rasp that makes your toes curl.

“Silence that whore!” Caracalla screams in his high-pitched crying tone. “Where are the Praetorian guards!? They’ll have something to stuff her mouth with—”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hanno stand with his weapon clenched in his fist. “Any man that comes down here has to fight me first,” he declares, the blade gleaming in the sun.

The announcer starts to speak, but Marcus reaches for his sword in the sand, pointing the blade up towards the podium.

"One more word and I'll take your fucking tongue." Marcus bellows.

The threat silences the announcer, but the crowd's roar only grows louder.

You can barely focus on anything beyond the sensations coursing through your body as Marcus continues to thrust into you relentlessly.

Marcus drops his sword, his other hand leaves your hair to wrap his arm around your waist. He starts working on the fasteners of your gown at the shoulders. “They’ll see all of you—everything they can’t fucking have,” he’s growling, nipping at your earlobe as his fingers frantically start pulling at the fabric covering your chest. “They’ll never have you. You're mine."

He does own you, and it's the most exhilarating feeling in the world. The undeniable connection between you is only heightened by his rough handling of your body; as if he owns every part of it without hesitation or reservation.

His hand grips your breast tightly, his thumb circling your nipple, which has already hardened. "You like this, don't you?" Marcus growls against your neck. “Like being on display for everyone?”

You groan in agreement, arching your back into his touch. "Yes," you moan, clenching your eyes shut as he hammers his hips into yours. "Please don't stop-- want them to see"

Marcus's free hand grips your hip, pulling you closer, and his other hand He pulls back and looks up towards the imperial box, “No one will touch my Dove again. Anyone who tries will be torn apart without hesitation.”

You force your eyes open, meeting the shocked and furious gazes of the Emperors. You bite your bottom lip, eyes rolling back in your head like you’re possessed at the bliss, at all the good feelings Marcus gives you.

There is a commotion, the brothers command something of their guards but Marcus's booming voice quickly catches their attention again. “You make so much as one move, and you will die where you stand.”

To punctuate his point, Hanno gives the blade in his hand a twirl, pacing back and forth between the seats of the Emperors, and yourself and Marcus.

A defiant smirk tugs at your lips. Your fragile alliance with Hanno had paid off and now he was protecting you and Marcus in this erotic display of defiance. You lean back against Marcus's strong chest, your hands feverishly searching for something to hold onto as your sweat drips down between your breasts.

Marcus runs his tongue along your shoulder, up towards your neck. "That's it, my golden girl," He growls in your ear. “Show them "

Your body trembles, every nerve alight with pleasure as he claims you in front of the entire arena.

He pulls out of you suddenly, leaving you bereft and gaping— but before you can grasp what’s happening, he’s on his feet, moving beside you with his hands in your hair turning you to face him.

Marcus stands before you, his muscular body glistening with sweat in the harsh sunlight. His cock, slick with your arousal, juts out proudly as he grips your hair tightly.

"Open your mouth," he commands, his voice hoarse with lust.

You obey without hesitation, parting your lips as he guides himself to your waiting mouth. The salty taste of yourself on his length makes you moan as he pushes past your lips. Your tongue swirls around his shaft, savoring the combined flavors of yours and his

"Look at her," Marcus calls out, his voice rough. "See how she serves me willingly. This is what true devotion looks like." 

You hollow your cheeks as he pushes deeper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you fight through – determined to please him. Your hands grasp his muscular thighs for support as he sets a punishing pace.

Marcus throws his head back, chest heaving as he nears his peak. "Gods, you're perfect," he pants. "My beautiful Dove."

He leaves your throat with a sickeningly arousing wet sucking sound, one hand stays in your hair as the other wraps around his throbbing cock.

Marcus strokes himself rapidly, his eyes locked on yours as he pants, "Open up. Show them who you belong to."

You obey eagerly, tilting your head back and parting your lips. Your tongue darts out, desperate for a taste of him. 

You moan when his seed coats your lips and chin, some of it dripping down onto your exposed breasts – marking you. You savor what landed in your mouth, swallowing as you gaze up at him adoringly.

Marcus releases your hair, his hand moving to cup your cheek tenderly. His thumb brushes across your lower lip, smearing his release further. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and something deeper - perhaps love.

The crowd's roar grows deafening, a mix of shocked gasps and lustful cheers. You can barely make out the Emperors' enraged shouts over the din. None of it matters - your entire world has narrowed to the man before you.

Hanno clears his throat softly, breaking the silence. "I believe it's time you take your leave, girl," he says quietly, eyes darting between you, Marcus, and the imperial box. “Go home to your farm?”

The Emperors seem to recover from their shock, Caracalla's face contorted with rage. "Seize them!" he shrieks, but his guards hesitate, wary of challenging the legendary general.

Marcus turns to Hanno. "Are you with us?"

Hanno twirls his sword, "I've just been waiting for a chance to escape this hellhole. I'm with you."

Marcus nods, then turns back to you. "We need to move fast," he says urgently, pulling you to your feet. “Lucilla has already left to find refuge in the ships.” He grips your hand tightly as he surveys the arena. 

The Emperors continue shouting orders, their guards now following their command, starting to close in on the three of you.

"We have to go – now!" Marcus shouts. “Barbarian, can you clear us a path?"

Hanno nods, a wild grin spreading across his face. "With pleasure."

tag list: @gothcsz @almostempty @joelmillerisapunk @untamedheart81 @lilac-boo

(tell me to add you or take you off or to go eat bricks!!)

big thanks to @creepycorbeaux for basically co-writing this chapter with me. I needed her.

and thanks @mrsmando for my beautiful mood board (it took me so long to finish this chapter because I would just stare at how perfect this fits their story)

[genderqueerdykes]

I was reading through your replies to the lesbian who was explaining why they hated cis men, and I found you replies really insightful and well put. I've often had trouble articulating *why* man hating queer people is so frustrating and upsetting to me. I'd also love to add another point from my percpective to the conversation:

I've almost exclusively been sexually assaulted by women. The only time a man has ever done something that could be considered sexual assault to me was a situation I wouldn't consider sexual assault (more just, he did things in sex that I wasn't into and didn't like, felt more of a case of 'having bad, poorly communicated sex/kink' than anything else). I've also been told by people that I was quote unquote "lucky" for being sexually assaulted/harassed by a girl in my dorm room when I was fifteen (maybe sixteen? bad at time) because it wasn't a man. The worst transphobia, abuse and harassment I've been through has been from women. My ex was femme enby who was kinda man hating and they fucked me up badly. I still love women, as a queer sapphic who adores the people in my life rn women are still wonderful, but they aren't safer than men. In several ways I actually feel safer stuck alone in a room or at a bus stop at night with a man than a women. The fact people make spaces that are supposed to be queer but deeply hostile to men is so infurating bc they act like everyone has a right to 'be cautious of men because of bad experiences' and make spaces less open to queer men but no one would ever say that about my bad experiences with women. (and no I'm not usually in women's only spaces, the reason I've never been SAed by a man is not bc I'm not around men, I'm around men plenty)

Feel free to not answer ask if its too much, have a lovely day and thank you for talking about intersex issues, about the way gender essentialism and fear of men hurts people. I appreciate your blog greatly.

i really appreciate you sending this, thank you. i really cannot stop myself from talking about how man hating is fucking everything up because this experience is so important and it's being completely erased

i'm sorry you've gone through all of that. that's a lot to deal with, and it's an experience that doesn't deserve to be erased. pushing the thought that women are inherently safe to be around puts women who are assholes into a situation they're allowed to be mean as fuck to everyone else because "oh i'm traumatized from patriarchy". we all are. you're not special.

i have also been abused by women as well. my mom, sister, other family members, friends and exes have all abused me. i talk about it a lot, but one of the worst times in my life is when i lived in a queer punk house. i really thought it would be accepting, i thought i had found my people. there were a lot of trans girls who lived and stayed there and i got to know a lot of them because they found me cute.

whenever they would find out i'm also a trans man as well as genderqueer, these girls would clamor over each other to misgender me. i was ridiculed for not having a penis, being told that that's what makes a man a man. these girls would also brag about how they hated twinks, gay and bisexual men. they were proud to hate men, even the queer ones around them. there were so many pieces of trans art and things like estrogen bottles everywhere, but nothing transmasculine at all. even though transmascs showed up there often

it sucks that other queer people can sometimes be one of the most transphobic people you know. people have to start caring about how this affects people. women are not inherently safe to be around. men aren't inherently going to hurt you. we have to grow up past this mindset

[captainadwen]

"Okay," said Steph, pulling her cowl off and sprawling back on the debrief room couches. "Who bet for 'interdimensional beings'?"

"I said aliens," said Dick, through the comms. He was back in his Bludhaven apartment and, by the sound of it, burning pancakes at 3 am. "I think I ought to get at least some of the pool - "

"Perfect guess or bust," retorted Steph and Tim simultaneously.

"There's a death portal," said Jason, his voice crackling over the comms. "I get brownie points."

"Before or after you failed at asking Jazz Fenton out for the third time?" Steph shot back.

Jason scoffed. "Like you had any more luck? At least I got the fucking words out."

"I was working myself up to it!"

"We'd all be in the geriatric ward by the time you accomplished anything," said Damian.

Steph flopped her hand at him. "Shut up, puppy crush."

Damian scowled at her. His hair was sticking up hilariously, so Tim discretely angled a camera at him to snap a picture. Bruce caught him, but was a mark of the many screaming fights and occasional crying sessions this family had that Bruce only twitched at this rather than retreating to the rafters to brood over his many kids whilst they pretended to not have stabbed each other, repeatedly, in places that hurt. Tim sipped his coffee and turned back to monitoring the multiple cameras they had set up.

The one outside Danny and Jazz's room crackled with erratic static. It was actually an infirmary, in Leslie's clinic, because that was as close to medical care as a Danny's paranoid snarling had allowed them to provide for Jazz, who kept alarmingly sinking through solid objects and passing out and twitching from electrical burns. It said something that Danny's glowing green eyes and sharp canines did not make him less attractive, but Tim was nothing if not a champion of assessing his own mental state and moving the fuck on. After growing up surrounded by aliens and demigods and ghosts, a little inhuman snarl putting him off would be insulting to his friends and various previous paramours at this point.

Which meant: "I win," said Tim. "I did put down 'another dimension'."

"The fuck you did," said Steph, finally pulling out her phone to find the betting pool.

Tim swiveled his chair around dramatically to find his entire family scowling at him. He crossed one leg over the other and lounged back. "My evidence: their knowledge of history and pop culture is inconsistent, occasionally wrong, and if you trace the camera static that follows them long enough you find their early attempts at learning more about our dimension through library visits and setting up their false identities." How exactly that had been accomplished was still to be determined. Tim's bet was 'mind control' or 'magic' or 'both'. 'Both' was usually a fair guess.

"That fits for savvy aliens too," protested Dick, followed by the sound of his fire alarm turning on.

Duke lifted his head from a pillow to mute Dick's comms. Then he put it back down, huffed, and said, "Now that we aren't in crisis mode, I also win because they are, in fact, meta humans."

"No they aren't," said Jason. "Have you all forgotten the interdimensional death portal? It's right there. If they have the meta gene and aren't some fucked up pit demons I'll pay for the shitting betting pool."

"You're the one who volunteered to watch it," said Steph, throwing her phone down the couch, which meant she did not want to announce her loss. "Cass, just muffle him if he's going to freak out over the interdimensional death portal."

"I think he should get a pass for that one," said Duke. "I think we should all freak out over the interdimensional death portal."

"We are," Steph assured him. "In like, one business day."

Bruce let out a disapproving grunt.

"Don't take that tone with me," said Steph. "We were all understandably panicked about Jazz nearly dying and turning purple - "

"I thought she looked more blue, actually," said Tim.

"- and Danny pulling out the usual glowing green eyes of doom and anger and Jason having a freak out over a pit portal - "

"Fuck you," said Jason.

"So B, you can handle the usual logistics freak out, and I am going to just be happy we managed to get them medical attention for now and Jazz is not actively dying anymore."

"Already dead," said Cass, quietly, over the comms. "Danny too."

"That's a two business day's from now type problem," said Steph, but her expression was as grim as the rest of them.

"Is it though?"

"We have programs for this," said Bruce, broodingly.

"We know, B."

"They did not need to make a hole in the fabric of reality," continued Bruce, even more broodingly.

"B, all your wellfare programs and 'beings stuck on Earth get home' initiatives with the JL don't mean shit if people who need them don't know about it."

"They do know about it," said Bruce, downright morose. "It's always filled with prank calls."

Damian perched besides his father and tentatively patted his back. Tim snapped another picture and sent it to the Young Justice group chat captioned 'murder gremlin attempts to comfort progenitor, exhibit D'.

"Maybe they did send in an application," said Barbara over the comms. Her voice was filled with extreme exhaustion; like Tim she was pushing twenty-six hours of being awake. She was just worse at hiding it than he was because she did not drink her bodyweight in caffeine. "Maybe it just got mistaken for a prank."

"Or lost in the queue," said Tim. At any given moment on Earth there were at least three wayward aliens, one time traveler, and two beings from not quite this dimension looking to go home. The aliens were usually the easiest of the lot to fix, the time travelers were a hit or miss depending on whether their version of this reality still existed, and the interdimensional beings were often a JLD problem.

Which meant --

"'The ripples of dimensional weakness have been felt and must be investigated'," said Bruce, obviously quoting someone and hating every word. Steph started muttering under her breath 'please be Zatanna, please be Zatanna, please be Zatanna - '

"Constantine is coming," declared Bruce, with all the drama he denied possessing.

Everyone groaned.

Jason said, "He is not coming into Crime Alley."

Danny: Ugh, they're back again

Jazz: Don't make that face at paying customers. Do you want to make a portal back home?

Danny rolling his eyes: Yes

Jazz: Then we need to get enough money to buy the parts. If that means waiting tables at a barely legal dinner, where idiots hit on us, then we wait those stupid tables. Now go over there and get the Waynes to leave us a 200 tip.

Danny: Fine, but only if you do too!

Jazz: *Tighten her apron straps into an hourglass figure* Way ahead of you.

Danny: *Rolling eyes but does the same*

Meanwhile with the Waynes

Bruce: It's so nice to go out to eat with you all

Alfred: Indeed. It's a nice change, don't you agree, children?

Wayne kids: *hyperventilating*

Bruce Not looking up from his phone: The Fenton siblings?

Alfred: Indeed, sir. It seems like Master Dick, Master Jason, and Miss Cass are going to attempt to speak to Ms. Fenton today. Master Tim, Master Damian, Master Duke, and Miss Steph don't seem mentally ready to look Mister Fenton in the eye. Bets?

Bruce: Dick chokes on his fork again. Tim face plants on the table, and Steph once again speaks in gibberish after forgetting the entire English language.

Alfred: Very good, sir.

[lullxby]

hi love!! could you write a jj x reader where he is in love with her but is scared to commit to a relationship because he’s never truly been loved before and doesn’t rlly think he deserves it? and it’s reader’s first relationship too? <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY (j.m.)

(jj maybank x kook!reader)

summary : in which a boy loves a girl so much it scares him.

w.c. : 2.3k

a/n : ughh LOVED this request, part two in the process but im trying to get something out for each character i have requests for rn!

warning(s) : angst, slight misunderstanding,

| outerbanks masterlist | navigation |

jj maybank loved you. you knew it, he knew it.

he even thought you felt the same. from the way you’d carefully clean out his wounds in the dead of night, or the way you’d make sure he ate at your house because you knew it was one of the only times he’d be fed. all of it make him believe his feelings were requited.

you were so, so good to him. too good, in fact. too good to be true.

he didn’t deserve it. he didn’t deserve any of it— your gentle touches, the sweet treats you’d give him, none of it. he was too rough for someone like you, too violent.

he had hurt so many people, you had to know about it. if you knew about it, there was no way your intentions were good, no matter how much his gut was screaming at him to just give in.

you’d just end up hurting him, that had to be your goal. some sick joke to laugh about with your friends. either that or he’d hurt you. the latter was more likely, he knew that in the same way he knew he loved you.

but, he needed an excuse to flee. he convinced himself it was some cruel style of humor, telling himself he had a right to leave you like this, to ghost you like this.

once he had continued telling himself it was all fake, he actually believed it. it made every time you hung out feel fake, as though he was just putting up appearances. he could tell you were getting confused by his change in demeanor, and wanted to ask him about it. if you did, he wouldn’t know what to say.

so, jj stopped showing up.

he sat comfortably on the chateau couch, the old worn out fabric rough against his legs. his friends were arguing and panicking about something he didn’t care about, or couldn’t bring himself to care about. his mind was stuck on you.

every time his phone would vibrate, he’d desperately want to give it up and text you, saying he’ll be there as soon as he could. but he couldn’t. it was either you end up hurting him, which he couldn’t see happening because you’re so you, or he hurts you. he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he hurt you.

so he didn’t answer your calls or texts.

1 missed call from y/n ❤️

y/n ❤️

j?

i thought you were coming over?

Delivered 4:58pm

he sighed, glancing at the clock hanging on the wall. It was almost two hours after he was supposed to be at your house, and even longer since he begun planning this detachment. he shifted uncomfortably in the seat, ignoring you causing an ache in his chest.

his friends looked over towards him, noticing the squeaking of the pullout couch. he had been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time. no matter what, he’d jump into an argument full on. yet he had stayed silent.

“dude, what’s the matter with you? you’ve been weird all day,” kiara pointed out, frowning a bit.

he opened his louth to answer, only to be cut off by sarah. the cameron girl had known you, having attended the kook academy together when you were younger. you were always sweet, so she was happy when you started hanging around for jj.

“yeah, and where’s y/n?”

his jaw clenched at that one. jj knew sarah was a fan of you, meaning john b. was too, and cleo thought you were kind, meaning pope thought well of you as well. it was like they were waiting for him to speak badly about you then shun him for it.

at least in his eyes. he felt he was going crazy.

“she’s busy,” he answered, his tone telling them to just drop it.

he punctuated his two word sentence by getting up from the couch, going out to the screened in porch, plopping down out there away from the group, leaving his phone inside where he couldn’t feel it vibrate as you texted and called.

god, you were too sweet for him. he’d just ruin you, like he did everything else.

the rest of the night passed by slowly. everything felt so much quicker with you. he had mentioned it once before, causing you to make some joke about having fun when time was flying. he couldn’t remember it exactly, and suddenly wished you were here to repeat it to him.

over and over again.

but you weren’t, thanks to him. even when you guys weren’t with each other, you’d still text and call each other. maybe this was for the best; he was too dependent on you anyway.

he fell asleep out on the porch, and you fell asleep alone in your bed. the window was left unlocked and cracked open, despite the cool air blowing in. just in case.

he never came.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

jj woke up around 10 and walked inside, noticing how everyone seemed to be still asleep in their respective areas. he spotted his phone on the couch, and made the mistake of checking it.

he scrolled through the notifications left by you, not opening them so it wouldn’t say read.

3 missed calls from y/n ❤️

y/n ❤️

jayyy

hello???

7:37pm

this isn’t funny, i’m worried about you

11:21pm

it wasn’t like him to just ignore your texts, especially if you called him. so you had sent this last one. which had happened to catch his eye.

y/n ❤️

atleast let me know you’re okay.

please?

delivered 12:07am

then nothing else after that. you had probably fallen asleep, he knew how you didn’t like staying up late. yet there you were, past midnight for him.

it was because you understood how his life could get sometimes. how he’d get busy, but more importantly, how he’d get hurt. it could’ve been by kooks (maybe starting something on the way to your house), or at the hands of his father.

you weren’t even mad at him, and if you were you weren’t showing it. his heart clenched at the thought. he couldn’t help it, he texted back.

jj 🌊🤍

im finw

read 10:52am

you read the message as soon as he sent it. of course you did. you had been waiting all day and night for him to answer. as soon as you read it, not like it took you long, you got more frustrated.

you had every right to be. he had ghosted you, then all you got was two words in response, and he couldn’t even bother to spell one of them right! you took a deep breath, trying to calm down. if you took it out on him, it’d only get worse.

he got another message, as soon as he had finished with his phone and shut it off.

+1 (123) 456-7890

i missed you yesterday

delivered 10:55am

he knew it was you, seeing your number instead of your name did nothing to change that.

he didn’t even open it.

maybe he was just going through something, you told yourself. it seemed like you guys had been close, close enough to where he’d come to you, but who knows. it could be too personal.

and in that case, he wouldn’t want to be bothered. you sighed, the thought bringing you back to the first time he had come over.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ FLASHBACK

jj had just gotten done surfing, it was obvious from the slightly damp state of his hair and the smell of salt water wafting off him. you had thought it’d be awkward— and so did he, you two were from completely different worlds.

but it wasn’t.

it was as if you guys had known each other for years.

the afternoon had flashed by, eventually ending with you and jj curled up under the many blankets you had oiled on your bed. the covers didn’t slip by without jj teasing you about them, saying something like ‘it’s summer, how do you sleep with this many blankets,’ while pretending to be drowning in them.

after the two of you had calmed down, you had ended up lying on top of his chest, messing with the chain that hung from his neck.

“y’know, i didn’t think you’d wanna come. thought i was jus’ some kook girl bothering you,” you had mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks with the lack of confidence you had shown.

he had just responded with a laugh, pressing a chaste kiss against your head, and saying “you could never bother me.”

but now, as he failed to return your texts, or even read them, it felt like that was all that was happening. like you couldn’t stop bothering him.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ PRESENT

jj shoved his phone in the pocket of his cargo shorts, sighing harshly as he did so. this was proving to be way more difficult than he had thought it’d be.

the boy ran a hand through his hair, not having his hat with him to readjust kn his head a thousand times.

he couldn’t stop thinking about you. how sad you may be, how angry (though he doubted that), how hurt. and the fact he knew he was doing that, that he was at fault? it was the worst feeling he thought he’d ever feel.

he kept strong, though, knowing deep down that it’d be worse if he kept going. he’d hurt you worse. he couldn’t do that. you weren’t just another one of his hookups. hell, the two of you hadn’t even had sex yet.

you wanted to wait, so he respected that. he honestly partly expected it. you weren’t like him. you weren’t the type to have casual hookups here and there. one time you had even told him you hadn’t been in a relationship, like, ever.

what he didn’t expect, though, was sarah’s words, emerging from the hallway that led to her and john b’s room.

“y/n’s coming over.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ YOUR POV:

you knew the way he looked at you couldn’t be nothing. it meant something, just as the way he’d hold you did. maybe you didn’t have much experience to base it off of. maybe you were grasping at straws to prove to yourself that he had felt the same way about you that you did him, even if it was just for once.

but maybe, just maybe, he truly did feel the same way about you. you checked your phone almost every five minutes, in such a way that if you did it enough, it’d magically make his notification appear.

your hopes of a magical miracle were futile, as your message not only went unanswered, but unread as well.

did you do something wrong?

was this because you didn’t want to do anything yet?

he hadn’t cared when you had shut him down, he had just pulled you back into his arms and held you. even if he had cared, he didn’t show it. he still came over just as much, and he still treated you the same

that was the only apparent ‘reason’ he would be doing this, and it barely was one. you hadn’t been rude, you hadn’t talked badly about him or his friends to your own. his motivation for this whole ‘cold shoulder’ thing was a mystery.

the familiar ding came from your phone, signaling you had a message. you lunged for it, as if it were a bar of gold. it wasn’t jj, but it was sarah.

sarah 🫶🏻🐻

why haven’t you been coming around lately?

kie and i miss you :(

*1 image attached*

read 11:37am

you opened the attachment, a photo of the two girls pouting at the camera, an edited tear drop under each other their eyes. you laughed lightly at it, surprised st the fact they cared that much.

you and sarah had just begun getting close again, having known each other in your tween years. she introduced you to kie once when you were over, and you guys clicked almost instantly, but were nowhere near best friends.

you responded something casual, mentioning how you had been busy lately, not wanting to bring up the stuff with jj. you didn’t doubt they could figure out what happened— he was the main reason you came over, and he had been ‘way moody’ lately, as sarah would describe it.

sarah 🫶🏻🐻

too busy for a girls day? we wanna see you!!!

read 11:39am

you smiled at the offer, instantly accepting and saying you’d be there at noon. that gave you around twenty minutes to get ready and drive over, which would be plenty of time.

*sarah 🫶🏻🐻 loved your message*

you shut your phone off after seeing the notification, going back into your bedroom. as soon as you entered, your eyes flickered over to one of jj’s t-shirts flung over your vanity chair, and his hat hung on your bedpost.

you changed into an outfit that was cute but comfortable enough to walk around in, your hair already done and just needing a refresh from the humidity. after that was done, you folded up jj’s t-shirt, placing his hat on top.

if he was truly done, though you hoped he wasn’t, he’d want those back. you opened your phone, texting sarah to let her know you were on the way over.

it shouldn’t be too long until you got there, and you and jj could only hope it wouldn’t be too awkward.

dividers made by h-aewo!!

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (13/18)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: Not all is perfect after becoming mates. There is a war going on and Sylus makes a decision to save his mate more heartache.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Rough blow jobs. Inappropriate use of tail.

Length: 6k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

Read on AO3

You could hardly believe what happened. You and Sylus were mates now. Any time you thought about it your heart would start racing. The moment that Sylus had said that he loved you it felt like the gloom that had been weighing down your heart since the autumn festival lifted. He loved you! He actually loved you!

That day out in the meadow where he laid you down in a bed of those red wildflowers and made you his mate, you knew you’d never forget it. He had treated you so gently. There were always times before when you had sex that things were soft and slow but they always went back to the rough and the fast. This time though, you knew for a fact that the only way to describe it was love.

When you returned to the mountain though things got intense again. Sylus had explained on the way back to the mountain that the initial period after becoming mates that their bodies would be hungry for each other. So she had better be prepared for them to not do a lot outside of the bedroom for the next week. And he had been right.

Any time you saw Sylus or thought about him your body felt like it was overheating. He did his fair share of grabbing you and dragging you back into bed but you had to admit that the real culprit was you most days. You were the one grabbing him from whatever he was doing and dragging the both of you to the closest flat surface.

You knew Sylus had said that this craving for each other would fade after about a week but considering how fired up you got any time you so much as thought of him you were starting to doubt it. This day was no exception.

You had been sitting in the kitchen area by the fire sketching something when Sylus wandered in to grab something to eat. He must not have noticed you by the fire because he didn’t say anything. The moment you saw him though heat blossomed throughout your body.

You set your sketchbook aside and tried to creep up behind him. You thought you were succeeding in sneaking up on him until his tail lashed out and grabbed you around the waist, halting you. “Did you think I didn’t see you?” he said.

“You didn’t say anything.” you pouted.

“Because lately any time I give you a second of attention you are intent on wringing me dry. Even with my stamina your appetite has gotten exhausting.” he looked you up and down. “The energy of the mating bond should have worn off by now. I wonder if it is taking longer to wear off on you because you’re fully human.”

“So you’re saying you don’t like how much I’ve been wanting you?” your hands caressed his tail. “Wasn’t it you that had said if I ever wanted a partner for such activities that you would always be there to help?”

“I did. But I think if we keep going at the rate at which you want then you’re going to end up needing extended bedrest, little bird.”

“Bedrest you say?”

“Yes, as in you lying in bed not having sex with me because your libido led to the abuse of your cunt. I’d rather have my mate not be in such pain.” he released you.

You got closer, staring up into his eyes. Eyes that begged and pleaded with him to relieve this ache that clawed at you between your legs. “You know, it doesn’t always have to be my cunt you put your cock in.” you slid down to your knees, “I get hungry too, master.”

His nostrils flared. He knew that you knew one of the quickest ways to get him to snap was to call him master. “My little bird, be careful what you ask for.”

“Yes, master.” you said again. Your eyes were locked on the bulge that strained against the leather of his pants. You leaned forward to kiss it.

“I won’t be gentle with you.” he warned.

“I don’t want you to be.” the wetness between your legs was already starting to drip down your thighs. You continued to kiss and nuzzle your face against his growing erection. “Please, master.”

“Fucking hells.” he cursed. “Remember you asked for this.”

A jolt of excitement shot up your spine, making you straighten up. That dark possessiveness had taken over his gaze. “Take it out.” he ordered.

You quickly went to obey, tying the laces of his pants and pulling them down enough to free his cock. It was so hard and it throbbed in front of your face, a small bead of precum leaking from the tip. Your mouth watered having it so close.

“Arms behind your back.” he said.

You happily obliged. He took his cock in hand but when your mouth opened to take it in he grabbed you by the jaw and forced it closed. “Not yet. You’ll get it soon enough, but first I need to vulgarize you a bit. If you want to act like a wanton whore, constantly begging for my cock, then I’m going to treat you like one. Nod if you understand.”

You nodded. He smirked at you. “You truly are perfect,” Sylus said, rubbing his cock over your closed mouth so that drops of his precum smeared across your lips. He kept going tracing the tip of his hot dick over your cheeks. “And I want you to remember that I love you because in a minute I’m going to fuck this sinful little mouth of yours so hard you won’t be able to make a sound.”

Oh gods…your legs were shaking as you pressed your thighs closer together.

He pulled his cock away slightly. “Say it.” he said.

“I love you.” you said, tasting the salty yet sweetness of his cum on your lips. “I love you so much, master.”

“Good girl. I love you too.” he kept one hand in your hair as he pushed his cock inside your mouth. He didn’t even give you a chance to swallow it down slowly. He shoved it inside past your teeth and hit the back of your throat. Your eyes watered and you gagged at the sudden sensation.

He pulled you off his cock as you took in a ragged breath. “You had better remember how to relax your throat now or else this isn’t going to be much fun for you.”

He shoved himself back in but you were a little better prepared this time and remembered to breathe through your nose and relax your throat. For a minute he just kept you there, his cock resting down your throat, mouth stretched wide to accommodate him, your eyes watering and chest heaving as you tried to keep breathing. You could feel him twitching in your mouth.

He stared down at you, his free hand caressing your cheek. “Should have had you do this before but you live and you learn. I think you can manage from this position though.” he said. “Take off your clothes.”

It took a little maneuvering but you were able to get your skirt off but you didn’t know how you were supposed to get the shirt off without pulling it off over your head. He noticed you fumbling and hooked a claw in at the front of your shirt and dragged it down, slicing it open at the front. You shrugged it off, now completely bare before him.

“That’s much better. Arms back behind you.”

You held your arms behind your back and pushed your chest out. The cool air settled over your skin, hardening your nipples and chilling the wetness skimming down your thighs.

He reaffirmed the grip on the back of your head and began moving your head back and forth along his cock. He wasn’t even thrusting into your mouth. He was treating your mouth like it was his own hand, forcefully bobbing it. Slow at first then faster and faster.

Your core spasmed and clenched around nothing. You wanted to shove a hand between your legs but he had said to keep your arms behind your back and so they remained. But fuck! You really wanted to touch yourself.

He noticed you squirming and you felt his tail come around and slither across your shoulders. The contact had you moaning around his cock. It traveled down your side and up your abdomen, the cool scales scraping against your naked breasts. Back down it went, tracing over your thighs and ass. Your legs parted, feeling the blunt end of his tail trace across your slit. It parted your folds and rested against your swollen neglected clit. Just a bit of pressure to relieve the deep ache in you.

“Don’t get greedy now.” Sylus said. “Remember who is in charge here.”

You moaned a response. His tail was unmoving between your legs but the pressure let you grind your clit against it which helped significantly.

You looked up at Sylus and found his gaze once more. It was intense as he moved your head, his jaw clenched tight and hard measured breaths through his nose. Even when he was using your throat he was trying to exhibit some control. Trying not to go all out on you. And here he had promised not to be gentle. That simply wouldn’t do.

You moaned around his cock and his movements faltered as a new sensation tingled through him, just through the subtle vibrations of your moans. You moaned again, longer and louder to send more vibrations up his body. “Ah fuck…” he closed his eyes.

You pushed your tongue up, pressing it to the underside of his cock so there was just that bit more of friction as he thrust in and out of your mouth. “You are going to--fuck--” he moaned, grasping. “You’re playing a dangerous game, little bird.”

Almost there. Just a little more and he would break. You sucked him hard, making sure to keep his gaze as you did so.

“To hell with it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” he grasped your head in both hands. “If it gets to be too much put your hands over your head and I’ll stop. Got it?”

You nodded, his cock still wedged in your mouth so it made your approval a bit awkward.

He thrust into your mouth, keeping your head still so you couldn’t pull away. You realized just how much he had been holding back before as he began fucking your mouth.

Instinctually you tried to pull away but he kept your head in place, tilting it back slightly so he could slide in easier. You were dancing between a place of pain and pleasure. You kept grinding on the steady pressure of his tail between your legs but your throat burned and you could barely see anything through your watering eyes.

There were too many sensations at once and it was driving you into mindlessness. Pain and pleasure were mixing into one and it was not stopping. You could feel a dribble of saliva leak out of the corner of your mouth and slide down your jaw.

Sylus was the most feral you had ever seen him as he panted and moaned, fucking your throat with reckless abandon. If he was saying anything you couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in your ears. Oh gods! Oh fuck! You were going to come!

You ground your clit harder on his tail and your eyes rolled back in your head as you came, your moan was nothing but a gurgle as Sylus continued to fuck your mouth. Gods above, how much stamina did this man have?

You were still teetering the plane between hazy pleasure and pain and realized that Sylus had been talking, muttering things to himself but you hadn’t been able to understand any of it. He was speaking something in Draconic. Probably more dirty words that were lost on you but spurred him. His breathing got harder and his thrusts got sloppier before finally he doubled over, bending his torso over your head with a sharp long moan and came down your throat. You did your best to swallow everything he gave you and it wasn’t until his legs stopped shaking that he pulled your head off of him.

You collapsed backwards onto the hard ground, breathing heavily through your burning throat. He followed after, scooping you up and rolling you on top of him. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky.

“Yeah,” you said in your own hoarse voice.

“Didn’t go too far?”

You shook your head. It was probably best you rest your voice. You had a feeling you weren’t going to be able to talk right for a while.

“I warned you.” he said. “Hope you found it worth it.”

Your only response was a cheeky smile. Sylus rolled his eyes and rubbed your aching jaw. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I think you’re going to need something warm to drink to soothe that throat of yours and some steam. Come on.” he sat up, taking you with him out to the hot spring. He set you down in the water and told you to wait.

You scrubbed the mess between your thighs away and breathed in the hot steam. A few minutes later Sylus came back with a cup of hot water. You took a sip and were surprised to find he had mixed some honey in. He couldn’t brew tea but hot water and honey seemed to be a good middle ground. You were never more grateful that you could go to the village again as you were then. A month ago you would not have had any honey.

That reminded you, you needed to go back and pick up some more groceries to bring back. You were running low and since your mating bond had snapped into place you hadn’t left the mountain at all. Maybe getting out of the mountain would help with your hormones too. As much as you loved being able to keep yourself locked away with Sylus you did recognize that you were probably going at it too much.

You decided to be proactive about it and the next day went out to the village. Sylus offered to fly you down but the whole point was to put a little distance between you two so you said no and made the long walk back on foot. It wasn’t until you were halfway down the mountain that you remembered you were going to need to lug everything you bought back up the mountain again. And the cold air wasn’t doing great things for your already abused throat.

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Too late now. You finished the descent and journey out to the village. You went from store to store grabbing what you needed which proved to be a challenge since your voice was so weak. Any time one of the store owners asked why you lied and said you were coming down with a cold.

Your arms were overloaded with groceries and you were debating hiring a mule to help you carry everything back up the mountain when a group of riders galloped into town. Two of the riders carried flags with the crest of the kingdom on them and the one in front was dressed in official regalia. What was happening?

The people of the town were called from their homes and everyone gathered in the square to hear the news. “We bring you news of the ongoing war effort.” The official said. “It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that during a recent battle many of the troops perished in a mass slaughter along the northern front.” The official began reading the names of everyone from the village that perished causing no end of grief for everyone in the square.

If the news was just about listing the dead in a recent attack they wouldn’t have sent an entire entourage to your small village. Something else was happening and your suspicions were confirmed soon enough. The official cleared his throat and opened a new letter. “By official decree of the king, any able bodied man over the age of eighteen must conscript in the war effort. Maximum age restrictions and prior experience in war efforts that exempted a man from conscripting have been lifted.”

The man began reading out names and the others handed out conscription papers to everyone that stepped forward to receive them. You heard your father’s name called and watched as he limped forward to take the letter. No!

You tried to call out to him but your weak voice couldn’t be heard over the bustle of the crowd. This couldn’t have been happening!

Instead of hiring a mule you hired a horse and stuffed everything you could in the saddlebags before riding back as fast as you could to the mountain.

The moment you got back to the entrance of the cave you called out for Sylus.

“What? What is it?” he came running, hearing your distress. “What’s wrong?”

You collapsed into his arms sobbing. “What’s happened?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head. “The war…it killed many of the people from the village that were fighting in it. An official from the palace came by and said that anyone that is able-bodied has to conscript now, it doesn’t matter age or if you had served before. They have to go.”

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry.” Sylus rubbed your back.

“Is there anything you can do?” you asked. “I mean, you’re a dragon for goodness sake. You protected our village, wouldn’t it help the army if they had a dragon helping them fight?”

“Slow down. Breathe.” Sylus took the reins of the horse and tied it up so it wouldn’t go wandering. “Let’s talk about this inside where it’s warmer.”

He led you back into the kitchen next to the fire. “Now,” he said. “While I admire your faith in me you know even my power has limits. I am not like the other dragons that stand taller than buildings and have powers of fire breath or anything like that. I cannot single handedly take out an entire army.”

“But you could help, couldn’t you?”

“I am sorry for the loss your village has endured but I do not see why I should aid a king who sends so many innocent lives to be slaughtered and hides away in his castle.”

“Innocents will die either way. If you helped it could end sooner, maybe.”

“Even if I wanted to help, it is the law of dragons not to get involved in human wars. We die far too often from conflicts among our own people, we do not need to go looking for more.”

“But…but…” you buried your face in your hands. “But he’s going to die.”

“Who is going to die?”

“My father. They’re going to draft him for the war effort. He’s not going to survive it. I know it. None of the men they are taking from the village will. They’ll all just become enemy fodder.”

“I see…” Sylus sighed. He held you in his arms. “I hate seeing you in so much pain. Is there really nothing that can be done for them?”

You shook your head, sobbing into his chest.

There was a long pause as he let you cry into him. Then he took in a deep breath and spoke again. “I suppose there is nothing else to do.” he let you go. “I need to go see about something. Stay here. I will be back soon.”

“Where are you going?” you asked.

“Hopefully, to do something right.” he took off.

You went out to the horse and started unpacking everything you had bought and storing it away. By the time you were done most of the anguish had left your body and you sat numbly by the fire watching the flames dance. You took out the glass charm your father had made you and watched as the light refracted through it. What if you never got a chance to make up with him before he left? What if he died and the last conversation you had was that horrible fight?

You couldn’t think about it. It hurt too much to even consider.

Some time later Sylus returned looking grave.

“Where did you go?” you asked. “What’s wrong?”

He pulled you from your seat and hugged you tight. “You don’t have to worry about your father anymore, nor anyone else in the village. They’re being spared from the draft.”

“What? What do you mean? What happened?”

Sylus held you tighter. “I found the official that had come to your village and told him that a dragon is worth far more than a hundred old villagers. He agreed to spare them and release the surviving men from your village that are already fighting if I join the war effort.”

“What!” you pulled back to look in his eye. “But everything you said earlier. You said that you couldn’t because of dragon law.”

“I am neither a part of dragons or humans. The rules of either do not apply to me.” he said with shrug. “I will create mt own. I am done trying to fit into one or the other. Besides, they did ask for someone from every family. You are my family, so I will go.”

“Sylus, what if…what if you don’t come back?” your voice caught. You hated the idea of your father being used for fodder in this war but you couldn’t lose Sylus. You had only just become mates.

“Here this now,” he cupped your face, wiping the tears from your eyes. “I will always come back to you. Nothing will stop me. Not this war, not the hells, not even the gods. I am coming home to you.”

You hugged him tight, weeping once more. “You had better.”

The next morning Sylus left. You didn’t know how long he was going to be gone so he insisted that you return to the village and stay there until he returned. You didn’t want to leave the mountain but knew that the isolation would drive you mad with grief while you waited so you didn’t fight him. You packed a bag and rode the horse back down the mountain. Sylus walked with you just for that little extra time together.

Word of what Sylus had done for the village had spread like wildfire so when you arrived most everyone was waiting to greet you and see Sylus off. You knew the crowd meant well but Sylus stopped some yards away from them. “I don’t want to say goodbye in front of everyone so let’s do it here.” he said.

“Don’t say goodbye. It feels too permanent.” you said. “Just promise me you’re coming back.”

“Of course I’m coming back. You know I am.” he held you tight once more. “I love you. I will be back as soon as I am able.”

“I love you too. I love you so much.” you pushed yourself to your toes and kissed him. He breathed you in, letting the kiss linger as long as you could stand. “Stay safe.”

“I will. Try to stay out of trouble here.” he pressed one more kiss to your hairline. He took the first step back, letting you go before flying up into the sky and disappearing over the treeline.

You stood there watching the blank grey sky for what felt like forever until you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see it was your father. “I…I was wrong about your dragon and I was wrong for what I said to you. I understand now just how much you mean to him if he was willing to go to war for a bunch of people he doesn’t know.”

“He’s only been gone a few minutes but I already miss him so much.” you choked out. “What if he dies? I don’t--I can’t lose him. I cannot.”

“He’s a dragon, sweet pea. They have a reputation for being very hard to kill.”

You fell into your father’s arms. It felt good to embrace him again but at what cost? Your mate was gone off to a war that had claimed thousands. Even if he was a dragon, what were his chances?

You went back to the village. Life continued on. Autumn came to a halt and winter descended, leaving blankets of fresh snow on the ground. You had been looking forward to the winter. You had thought that the view from the mountain would have been amazing, seeing the world below covered in snow. Too bad you couldn’t see it. Not yet anyway.

As time went by you reconnected with your friends and your father and the entire rest of the village more than you had been during your short visits. You could have almost pretended that nothing had changed if it wasn’t for the constant aching loneliness in your chest any time you thought about Sylus.

When your father gathered the courage to ask about your relationship with Sylus you were honest. You told him that you loved each other and had become his mate. At the sound of ‘mate’ your father had gruffed.

“Father, please, it meant a lot to us.” you said.

“I know. But you said this ritual was a dragon equivalent of a marriage?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, if he wants to be married to you then he has to do it our way too. The gods will not look favorably on such union if it is only sanctioned by the hells.”

You smothered a laugh. “Yes, father. I’m sure we can have a ceremony when Sylus returns.”

Some weeks after you had returned to living in the village the men that Sylus had negotiated the freedom for had returned as well. There were many tearful reunions and proper mournings as the bodies that could be recovered were returned too. It was a beautiful sight.

You had approached one of the men that had been off fighting. You were good friends, at one point even lovers for a brief period though those feelings had long since vanished. You asked if there was any news about the dragon that had gone to fight but they had heard nothing after they were told they were being released back to the village. You tried not to show how heartbroken you were as you thanked him and walked away.

Despite being back in the village you found yourself far too idle for your own sanity. You had decided to go back to working in your father’s workshop. The labor was good for filling your time and distracting your mind.

You were making a vase one afternoon when an idea struck you. You could make something for Sylus. A little welcome home present for when he came back. Because he was coming back. He had made a promise to you.

Once you were finished with the vase you had immediately gone about grabbing your sketch book and drawing out an idea. For days you toiled and worked in the workshop. You had made several small versions of what you were planning on creating, testing the way each looked before deciding to go through with the full scale version of the one you wanted to make.

Your father seemed slightly concerned by the mania you had suddenly found yourself in as you worked. You rarely left the workshop but to eat and sleep. This was too important.

After another week of straight work your masterpiece was complete. You stood in the workshop staring at it next to your father. He eyed the large sculpture with awe and pride. “It’s amazing, but what exactly is it?”

“A welcome home present.” you said simply.

More time passed. Without your passion project you were spiraling back into your lonely depression. Is this what Sylus had meant before about becoming mates? Without him around it felt as if your entire body was numb.

You decided to take the time to learn more about dragons. There was a small library in your village and you found everything they had that related to dragons. Apparently, after Sylus had shown up on the mountain the library had gone out of its way to get more material about them so you had plenty to read. Most of it was stories about dragons, anatomy, how to kill dragons, but there was a little about dragon culture you were able to find. It was obviously written by someone who had observed dragons from a distance and without any way to interpret what they were saying in Draconic so a lot of it was speculative.

There had been an entire chapter in one of the books dedicated to dragon mating. Apparently dragons went into heats and ruts just like other animals. Was that…was that something you were going to have to watch out for with Sylus? He was dragon but he was also human. What would happen if he did get you pregnant? He said that only mates could breed. Did that only happen during ruts or…or was there a possibility you were already pregnant? Did you also need to worry about laying an egg? His mother laid an egg. What if you did too? Oh gods, you should have asked more questions.

One morning you were over at Tara’s house. She was doing a reading for you since you had been so stressed about Sylus. “What do your magic cards tell you?”

“It is all good news. I suspect your dragon should return safely and not too long as well. And this card…oh…” her face reddened.

“What? What is it? What does it mean?”

“Um well, this card is associated mostly with fertility and motherhood. It could also mean abundance and growth, meanings can be broad.” she scooped the cards back up and shuffled them back into the deck. “But if it doesn’t, then I think you may be giving your dragon a much better welcome home present than a glass sculpture.”

Your face burned and you shoved her shoulder. “Knock it off. You’re just as bad as the others.”

Tara was about to say something when her mother came rushing in. “Hello my dears, I had to come find you immediately. There’s been news.”

“About the war?” Tara said.

“About Sylus?” Your heart leapt.

“Yes. News came in just a minute ago that the tide of the war is turning. Your dragon has been decimating the enemy lines giving our troops the chance to advance and drive the enemy back to their own soil. This war may finally be coming to an end!”

“That’s amazing momma!” Tara squeezed her mother tight.

“And Sylus? Any other news about him?” you asked again.

“Oh no, I’m afraid. There was news that as soon as the battle started shifting he had disappeared. No one seems to know what happened to him.” she said. “I’m sorry my dear.”

“No.” you shook your head. “He’s not dead. He promised me he was coming home. That’s it. He has to be coming home. That’s why he disappeared.”

“My dear--” Tara’s mother tried to console you but you ducked out of her arms and ran for the door.

The winter snow was falling in a flurry of large flakes. The wind cut through the material of your cloak, chilling you to the bone. Sylus was coming back. He had to. You trudged through the ankle deep snow. You stared up at the sky, snowflakes catching on your eyelashes and melting on your cheeks.

“Please.” you begged whatever gods may be listening. “Please bring him back to me. Please. I just want him back. I want my dragon back.” you dropped to your knees in the middle of the road. The snow soaked through your skirt and chilled your legs.

A gale of wind buffeted you from behind and you curled more into yourself. “Please…I miss him so much. Please…”

“I missed you too, little bird.”

Your head whipped behind you to find Sylus standing there out of breath and face pink from the cold. You shot to your feet and tackled him in a hug. “Sylus!”

“By the hells woman, you’re frozen solid.” his wings enclosed around you, trying to imbue you with more warmth. “Are you trying to catch your death?”

You didn’t care one whit about the cold. Sylus was back! He was safe! You continued to hold him, weeping quietly into his chest.

“It’s alright.” he picked you up off your feet. “I’m home. I told you I would be.”

“Sylus…” you kept repeating his name over and over.

“Come on, let’s get you out of this cold.” he carried you back to your father’s house.

Your father was surprised to see Sylus carrying you inside but he smiled when he realized that your tears were tears of joy. “Good to have you back. This one hasn’t stopped moping since you left.” your father said.

“It’s been torture to be away.” Sylus said.

“I’ll give you two a moment alone.” your father nodded to you. “Do you want me to get the thing from the workshop?”

You shook your head. “I’ll show it to him later.”

Your father took you aside. “Please don’t have your reunion here at the house. There are some things a father should never hear.”

“Father!” you shoved him. “I wasn’t--go melt some glass or something!”

Your father chuckled but left the room.

Sylus came up behind you and held you again. “Shame. I was hoping to heat your body back up the old fashioned way.” he said.

“Back for five minutes and already trying to get me in bed.” you rolled your eyes. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Glad to be home.” he turned you around and kissed you. “I’ve been missing you.”

“Why are you here though? I thought you’d still be fighting.”

“I helped turn the tide of the war. That’s all the more they need from me, they should be able to handle it on their own now. Besides, I had something much more important waiting for me back here.” he pressed his forehead to yours. “Glad to see you made up with your father too.”

“That’s mostly thanks to you. Although, he does have on caveat.”

“And what is that?”

“You have to marry me.”

“Didn’t you tell him we already did that dragon equivalent of that?”

“Yes, but he wants it done through the human custom.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Besides, we get to indulge in another human custom afterwards.”

“And what is that?”

“The honeymoon. It’s an excuse to hole ourselves up in our home for a month, completely undisturbed.”

“An entire month?” he smiled. “Humans have some great customs indeed.”

“I thought you would like that one. So, should I tell father you want to head on down to the church?”

“In a bit. Right now I just want to breathe you in.” he kissed you once more. Your heart swelled and you relaxed in his arms. He was finally home.

[alilobsessive]

For the Reader that the Batfam doesn’t know about till she’s twenty and her mom dies of could we get the Batfam reacting to her being absolutely invested and a part of her step family. Like her mom was married to some guy who reader thinks of as her father. She even has older step siblings that just adore her. It’s like so wholesome and the Batfam just wants to vomit from anxiety because what do you mean you don’t feel like a part of our family and feel more related to your step family?!

Even better if the step family is the opposite of the Batfam in every way. Emotionally coherent, great communication, middle class, and oh yeah secretly a villain family that likes to go after big corporations and embezzle their funds. Gotta pay the mortgage on that nice house in the suburbs somehow 😄🤫 but reader and her mom never knew the step dad and his children were villains. They just thought they owned a small family business that required a whole lot of travel.

Honey, baby girl, I love the way you think! This probably isn’t what you had in mind but I did my best.

You always knew that your Father wasn’t your biological father. Although your mother had married him when you were still extremely young, you still had some vague memories of a time before him. But that never changed how you viewed him and your older siblings. Their family, no matter what, you’re Father even went so far as to legally adopt you not long after their marriage.

Finding out your biological father was Bruce fucking Wayne of all people was a shock to everyone, even him. You were born before Bruce had the reputation of a family man, someone who loved helping people. Back then he was known solely as a playboy, not ready or willing to settle down and enjoying his youth as much as he could. Your mother met him at a gala having been invited by her brother in law, a decently wealthy man. Wealthy enough to be invited to these gala’s from time to time. There she met Bruce, they did the deed so to speak, and the rest is history. Of course your mother already knew who exactly your biological father is, she wasn’t the type to go sleeping around frequently. Against her better judgment and the judgment of the rest of her family, she decided to keep you. Lying that she didn’t know who the father was, not expecting him to be a good parent or wanting the stigma of being a wealthy man’s bastard child to follow you around.

Because of this, outside of your Aunt and the aforementioned brother in law, your uncle, the family disowned her. It was hard being a single mother, although her job did pay well it paid well for a single person, not a single person and infant. She relied on your Aunt and Uncle far more than she would like to. It was also through your Aunt and Uncle that she met your Father. An accountant who was temporarily contracted by your Uncle’s Company. He’s older than your mother by a good few years and has three kids of his own that he was taking care of by himself after his wife was killed in a villain attack.

The two had hit it off rather well, and 3 years later they were married. The two of them were the happiest couple you have ever met, even when they were struggling to take care of the four of you, they were happy. So the fact that your Father didn’t even know this was concerning, if she could keep this a secret up until her death what else was she hiding? What information that was quietly eating her alive, did she not even bother to put in her will like this? She wanted you to know, even after his reputation changed things were comfortable and she didn’t want to ruin it with Bruce's presence.

Just like her you thought Bruce and his family should know. It felt wrong to keep this a secret and you weren’t going to bottle it up. Of course you’re Father and siblings had mixed feelings about it, they were understandably worried. This is the richest man in Gotham, who knows what he’s actually like behind closed doors. But it felt wrong to keep this from him, even if you were never going to meet again, he deserved to know. What you definitely didn’t expect was everything that would come after telling them and doing that DNA test, and then another DNA test and then a third just to be safe, Jesus Christ these people are paranoid. Which understandable who knows how many people come up to him with those exact same claims on a daily basis. A lot seeing as when you tried to get in contact with him, you discovered a literal fucking procedure and form to fill out on the Wayne enterprises website for this very scenario. Which also leads to the question how many people signed the forms as a joke.

All and all when the paperwork and blood test finally got through a fucking full month later, you randomly got an email saying you had a meeting scheduled with Bruce at 10am in a week. Once again informing your family made them freak the fuck out. Which makes sense seeing as you’re Father is now an accountant working for the Lex corp branch in Gotham. Competing companies and all that. Your other siblings having gone into similar fields in different companies, your eldest brother having even moved to BlüdHaven and become an Accountant for one of their large corporations. You could never really wrap your own head around numbers. Going to Gotham university for Acting yourself. Completely different from what the rest of your family, including your Mother did for a living. After your meeting with Bruce, which basically boiled down to “why did you inform me” “what do you want” “bla bla bla bla interrogation interrogation” instead of things blowing over and collectively forgetting about it, like you thought. Things got even weirder.

“Oz I swear to fucking god” you say staring at Oswald you’re second brother and the one closest to your age. “What!” He said defensively, “I didn’t do anything!” “I know you’re the one who stole Bethany” “You’re still on about that fucking Minecraft horse! It’s been two years!” “Bethany, my beloved, the horse I rightfully stole from Paisley!” “literally just admitted the horse wasn’t originally yours!- why are we having this conversation again!” “Because-“ “excuse me!” You and your brother's conversation was interrupted by a complete stranger. To be fair the two of you were talking very loudly in a very public, very busy dinner. The man standing in front of you looked to be around your sister's age. Tall and a little muscular with a 9 year old kid hiding behind him, glaring at you like you’re a potential threat. “I’m so sorry to disturb your……?” “Important business transaction” you say with gravity sitting in your Luray Caverns gift shop hoodie, sweatpants and slippers. “Minecraft server discussion” Oz clarifies “IMPORTANT. BUSINESS. TRANSACTION!” “Riiiight” the strange man said awkwardly, the child still glaring.

He clears his throat glancing away before glancing back. “Well as you can see all the other tables are full, I was wondering if it was alright for us to sit with you?” He asks with a warm smile, looking more at you than Oswald. You and Oswald look at each other “Huddle!” You yelp, and then you both lean over the table and turn your backs to them whispering to each other. “People do that??” You ask “I’ve only heard about it in like old movies??” Oz responds, “ya this is weird” “umm” the tall man interrupts, “we can hear you?” The both of you turn around at the exact same time and say “Okay and?” Then go back to your huddle. “I don’t trust them, look at the kid. I bet he’s plotting are murder.” “I don’t know, maybe his face is just stuck like that?” “It is” the tall man once again interrupts. “See?” “You have far too much faith in people” Oz says, shaking his head, shaming you. “Someone has too, if I don't, who's going to stop you from kicking an innocent person who was just trying to ask for directions in the nuts?” He flushes and mumbles “I thought we agreed to not talk about that”.

“I made no such agreement” you glance back at them still standing there awkwardly. Now that you think about it they look familiar. “Hay do I know you?” You ask them, which makes the tall one jump a little, the kid just stands there like a Gargoyle. “Umm no, but you’ve probably seen me on YouTube or the news or something.” You quickly turn back to your brother “oh god it’s a influencer” “fuck” “I’m not a-“ for the first time since they approached you the child speaks “except your fate as an influencer Grayson” which just makes Grayson(?) sigh, looking at the ground defeated. The two of you continue to debate for another few minutes before you both turn back to them, both of you putting a single hand on the table. “Okay!” You say “you may sit with us” Oz finishes. At some point in this conversation a waitress had arrived and stood there watching you four. Looking a mix of tired and confused. “So can I get your guys order?” “Orange juice, Greek Omelette with white bread, please” you tell her in quick succession. “Bro, what? I haven’t seen you look at the menu once since you invited me here to talk about Minecraft’s horses?” “There’s this thing called looking up the menu before you arrive?” “You’re insane, you’re literally insane” Oz says looking at you like you grew three heads.

“No, I'm being practical! I’m not going to sit here for 3 hours debating what I want, when I can get it as soon as possible once I get here!” You two instantly begin arguing again. Grayson and Gargoyle child glance at each other as the waitress writes down the order and mumbles “not this shit again” before walking away. The duo then look back at you two still yelling at each other. Grayson awkwardly slides next to you, Gargoyle child sitting next to Oswald. “Your lucks run out Rabbit boy!” “Stop that!” “No! You Rabbit brained water moccasin!” “We should have never gotten you Epic Mickey!” “Epic Mickey and Epic Mickey 2: Power of 2 were masterpieces of storytelling and Wii physics! Not getting them for me would have been child abuse!” “No it fucking wouldn’t!” “Child abuse!” “Is that true Grayson?” The Gargoyle child asked Grayson. “What?” said man replied, looking confused.

“Is it child abuse?” Gargoyle child had what could only be described as grinch’s smile as he said this. “What no-“ “YES” you yell, instantly cutting him off, slamming your hands on the table making the silverware jump, as well as your two guests. “Yes” you repeat this time softer and with less force, slightly embarrassing as your brother just rolled his eyes. “Denying a small innocent child such a joy is clearly-“ you begin only for your eyes to go wide “oh my god you're too young to know what a wii is” the boy nods. “Uuug I feel oooold!” You groan, sinking down the plastic of the booth, then you shoot up again “hold up- isn’t there a reboot on the switch??” You quickly pull out your phone and start typing away.

As you do the waitress returns and hands you and Oz your food. “Hold on-“ Grayson says “He didn’t order anything?” The waitress sighs, “the whole family are regulars” she explains, “whenever they show up this one” she points to you “oh my god it’s already out!” You quickly look up from your phone “thank you!” And then back towards it. “Already knows exactly what they want and this one” she points to Oz who gives a soft “thanks” “will sit here for 40 or so minutes trying to figure out what he wants, only to order the exact same thing.” “Aa” “ya, so” she pulls out her pen and paper. “Are you two going to order anything” “oh right um-“ Grayson fumbles with the menu and Gargoyle child calmly looks at him. The two quickly order their food and turn back to you too.

“I don’t think we introduced ourselves yet.” Grayson says, you look up from your phone and at him. “Oh ya” putting it away you hold out your hand and tell him your name “I’m Richard” he says with a bright smile, shaking your hand. You resist the urge to make a joke “but most people just call me Dick!” Now you really resist the urge to make a joke. “Damian” Gargoyle child says glaring eyes looking into your soul. You’re brother looks back and forth between the two “Oswald” he gumpaly introduces then takes a bite of his food. The four of you sit and chat together but quickly Oswald starts acting strange. By the time breakfast is over and you say your goodbyes to the group.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” “I think” Oswald begins, looking around suspiciously. “That those two were..” he leans closer and whispers, “Wayne’s kids” “What!” You say in surprise. “That’s crazy! Why would someone like them be at a dinner?” “You” everything about him, from voice to posture to expression was dead serious. “Bitch what” “think about it! You just pop up out of nowhere, prove your well, ya know” he scans the crowd of people walking along the Gotham sidewalk like anyone could be listening in. “Then nothing happens?” He continues, “okay, okay, okay i’m hearing you out you’re making sense, proof?” “fucking Google Dick Grayson” rolling your eyes, you whip out your phone and do just that. Only for your eyes to go wide, “oh shit” “ya” “they weren’t even trying to hide it” “ya!” “oh my god I called Dick Grayson an influencer!” “That cannot be what you just took away from that!” Oswald says clearly distressed.

Dick closes the car door and quietly buckles in as Damian sits in the seat next to him, “soo?” He asks starting up the car. “You’re on my side now?” Damian scoffs, “of course not! Why would I want someone like them in the family?” Dick rolls his eyes. “Come on, you like them!” “No I don’t!” “You joined in with their jokes!” “So?” Dick just gives an affectionate sigh as he starts driving away.

“You wanna get Epic Mickey?”

“….”

“….”

“Yes”

Sitting in a cafe and staring at your laptop, work for one of your colleague classes right in front of you. Dispute coming from a family that consists primarily of accountants and other jobs that mean you're good with numbers, you were not so good at it. Which is why you’re here, in a cafe, with your work barely done or understandable. Paisley having wandered off to the bathroom, not helping you, like she said she would! Sure you didn’t take Acting because you thought you would never need to do most math’s again, but you expect it to be a part of it. But noooo, you still needed a math credit, you wanted to just curl up into a tiny ball and cry. Maybe die, dying sounds good right about now. No! No! Bad, what did the therapist say again? Jokes like this are bad for your mental health, no matter how desperately you wanted to at times like this.

As you stare at the screen trying to magically make the problems un problem themselves a tall and rather intimidating man shows up. “Are you alright?” He asks concerned, “you’re staring very… intently at that computer” you groan “Math” “aaa” he nods in understanding, then slides into your sister’s chair. Turning it around and resting his arms on the back. You raise an eyebrow and straighten up but say nothing, kidnappings in broad daylight aren’t new to Gotham, but you would rather give him the benefit of the doubt. You don’t want to live a life of constant fear.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks, tilting his head, like a dog. But before you could respond your sister comes out of the bathroom, she very aggressively puts her hand on the table. The buff man looks up at your sister “Hi Paisley” you great, you’re sister although shorter than the man is almost as buff. She glares down at him “you’re in my seat” he holds up his hands in surrender. “Hey I mean no-“ “what do you want with my sibling?” She begins immediately interrogating them. The handful of people inside the cafe turn to look at the commotion. “Paisley calm down, we were just talking! Barely at that!” “Ya, miss! All I’m doing is trying to have a conversation!” The buff man says defensively “Bullshit!” Paisley interrupts “answer my question! What. do. you. want. with. them” “I just wanted to talk! Geez!” He throws up his hands and then stands up, leaving the Cafe as a whole.

Your sister's chest puffs with pride as you stare at her dumbfounded. “The fuck was that???” She calmly turns the chair back around and sits down, most of the other people have gone back to minding their own business. Key word:most “what? He was bothering you” “no he wasn’t???” She looks at you in disbelief, “do you seriously not know who that was??” Now it’s your turn to look at her confused. “No?? Should I?” She puts her hands in her face “Jesus Christ” then looks back at you. “That was one of his kids!” “Who?- oh” “ya! I thought you would be more aware after last time!” You shrug, “why should I? Not that big a deal” “not that-what?!?” Paisley looks like she wants to strangle you from across the table. “Ya, I mean I get it” “you??-“ “Listen, if you suddenly discover you had another sibling that no one knew about, wouldn't you be curious too?” She sighs at your question, “when did are lives become a soup opera?” Chuckleing lightly you respond “I know right?” Before going back to serious mode. “But that’s not the point. The point is that I admittedly wasn’t expecting this, but now that it’s happening, I’m not that surprised. At least they have the decency of meeting at a public place and not like a shady alleyway or something.” The stress is clear on her… we’ll everything. Even starting to massage her head like a migraine is coming on. “God, this entire situation is so fucked” she says slumping down putting her head on the table.

The two of you sit in silence for a few moments before you finally speak up. “Sooo Bethany?” She groans annoyed as you’ve been bothering her about this all week. “Fucking fine! I’ll do it!” “Yessss” you do a little fist bump, one step closer to your plan.

Jason pulls out his phone, agitated at having been interrupted in such a manner. His back is pressed against the wall of the ally he’s in, tapping his foot as he waits for Dick to pick up. “Hay Jay!” The chiper voice eventually picks up, “that was fast!” “I didn’t even get 5 minutes to speak to them” Jason hears a low whistle coming from Dicks end. “What happened?” “Well you were right, they definitely figured out what was happening and went on the defensive. Their step sister chased me off almost immediately.” “You?” He said in disbelief “she chased you, Jason Todd, Mr. Murder Kill, off??” “I wasn’t going to pick a fight with a civilian in public!” He could hear Dick laughing on the other end.

Jason’s grip on the phone tightens as he hears this, “So!” Dick says once he stops. “What do you think?” “I don’t know! I didn’t have enough time to form an opinion!” “An opinion if formed-“ “within the first 10 seconds of meeting someone” Jason interrupts, “there okay I guess?” He says, sounding almost confused. “I couldn’t get a good read on them. I still haven’t the faintest clue what they want” “To be a part of the family?” Dick responds, this not being the first or last time he said this since the family learned about you. “Ya no, definitely not that” Jason says shaking his head, “I’ll continue my part of the investigation” “Alright Jay! Have a good day!” Jason hangs up, rolling his eyes and putting away his phone.

Standing by a railing you watch the skateboarders around the park. Why you agreed to meet him here of all places you don’t know, he doesn’t even like skateboarding! You don’t either but that’s not really the point. The point is you’re meeting him here, to make a very important deal. A familiar figure walks next to you and places his arms against the railing. “I know what you’re planning” he says, you don’t even glance at your eldest brother. Cody is the smartest of your siblings, nothing gets past him, absolutely nothing.

It’s what makes him such great competition.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about” you say in a flat tone, knowing exactly what he’s talking about. “You’re trying to restart the Bethany war, going to every member of the surver one by one and making deals so they all turn on each other. But the question is why?” You chuckle at that. “Why? you know why, the server is getting dull, everyone is playing on it less and less. We need another big event, another game, another Bethany war.” There’s almost a cruel glee in your tone, a joy at the life this chose will bring back to the server like it had all that time ago. Only for your dramatic performance to be rudely interrupted by a mildly concerned “umm excuse me?”.

You both turn around and see a skateboarder, he looks to be roughly your age wearing Red Robin(pronounced like the jungle) merch. “What is happening here?” He asks looking back and forth at the two of you like he just watched two villains openly discussing their plans for world domination. Which if you two were, he's doing a very bad job at keeping his life. “Minecraft server stuff” you and Cody say at the same time, Red Robin Kid(because he is a kid until further notice) makes a small ‘o’ with his mouth and then nods like that all makes sense now. Knowing how the average Minecraft server operates it definitely does.

Red Robin kid then looks around “sooo, why not discuss this over like a call, or DMs?” “Not dramatic enough” you shrug, “also not safe enough when anyone else involved can easily overhear or find the messages.” Cody continues, leading you to nod in agreement. “So, you’re dramatically talking about a Minecraft war in a skate park, for fun?” You two look at each other and then back at Red Robin kid. “Ya” “basically” “why a skate park?” You turn to look at Cody, he just shrugs. You turn back to the kid, “cause” he just looks at the two of you for a moment longer. He opens his mouth to speak some more only for one of his friends to call his name, he looks at them then back at you. Like he’s debating something, then he goes to his friends. “I want in on it” Cody says continuing we’re the conversation left of “I wouldn’t have it any other way”.

“By the way you really need to memorize the Wayne’s”

“He’s a Wayne???”

“You what?” Bruce said in a calm tone, “I ran into them by complete accident when I was at the skate park this morning.” Tim says in his full Red Robin gear, working on the batcomputer. “Sure it was by accident” Jason said sarcastically, “no really! I didn’t even know they’d be there” “Just being dramatic?” Bruce asks. “There a Acting student Bruce” Tim replied looking towards his adoptive father, “there you’re child Bruce” Dick says walking over and adjusting his suit. “Drama is clearly in your blood.” all he does is sigh and shake his head. “Care to explain what you all were even doing behind my back?” Dick, Jason, Tim and Damien just stood there quietly. As he said that Duke and Cas walk into the batcave. Duke in his pajamas and eating a bag of chips and Cas fully in gear.

Duke looks around the room and then quietly tries to leave “you’re not going anywhere” Bruce says before he can even take a step back. “We were just investigating them, Father” Damien finally chimes in, “as you are too, it’s extremely suspicious that they would appear out of nowhere like that” “takes one to know one” Tim mumbles, only to be sent a glare by the child. “Their story checks out” Bruce begins, “all of us have combed it over several times” “ya but what’s there motive for even telling you” Jason chimes in. “Because, it’s the right thing to do, is a flimsy excuse” “ hold on” Duke says, “are we talking about the new kid?” Duke takes a minute searching his memory for your name before saying it.

Bruce nods, “yes, they’ve been doing their own private investigations.” “So stalking?” “Yes” “Hay!” Dick interrupts, “Tim stalks, we investigate” “I’m literally the only one here that didn’t meet them intentionally!” Tim looks at them offended. “Please tell me you didn’t corner them in an alley or something” Duke asks looking distressed. “Of course not!” “Oh thank god” “were you not investigating them?” Jason asks, Duke just shrugs “Hold on- are you not looking into them?” “Outside of a basic social media check? No, not really, I don’t really care” “Im definitely stalking them.” Cas signs from next to him. “I have followed them home on several occasions.” They all turn to look at Cas, “thoughts?” Dick asks and Cas just shrugs “there alright” “YA!” He points at her, “Cas is on my side! So is Duke!” “I’m neutral actually” Bruce just sighs. Completely uncertain of we’re this is going to go.

In an undisclosed location four people sat around a round table, several different stacks of paper put on top of it. As well as computers, drinks and snacks, “things aren’t going to plan” the oldest of the group, a man in his mid 60’s, said as he looked over the documentation. “When do things ever?” The youngest of the group said, flipping a knife in his hands. “Well none of our businesses are being affected” said the second eldest of the group, “that’s not what we’re talking about and you know that!” The final member of the group almost yells, slamming her hands on the table. “You even intentionally led one of them right to them!” He just shrugs at the accusation, “I wanted to see what would happen, honestly Lucky over here” he nods to the man messing with a knife who then flips him off “got a more in-depth experience” he does sparkly hands “than the rest of us” the old man sighs. “Please don’t fight about this right now, we have more important matters to discuss!” “How is this not important!” “It is! But that’s family talk! This is villain talk time!” Cody rolls his eyes, “the potential of them crossing over is getting closer and closer.” The trio’s father sighs at that.

“I don’t like we’re this is going” “none of us do!” Paisley yells, “they just had to be a decent human being!” “Well that was the goal with raising you four” there Father buts in. Oswald nods “and you did a good job” Paisley just stares at him for a few seconds absolutely baffled. “YOU LITERALLY KILLED TWO PEOPLE LAST WEEK!” “HAY-“ Oswald interrupts “they we’re cops” “please don’t kill more people” There Father says pained. “We don’t want to be labeled supervillain we-“ “can’t risk being caught by a Batman of all people” they all say in sink. “Tell Cody that!” Paisley says pointing at the lounging man, “he’s trying to become Nightwings Riddler! But is failing miserably because he’s bad at making riddles!” “I should just make puzzles” he mumbles to himself, “I’m good at making puzzles, The Puzzler” “Puzzle me this Nightwing!” She says, mocking The Riddler’s voice. “Maybe you would be a better villain if you got Nightwing’s dick out your mouth!” Oswald exclaims annoyed, which Cody doesn’t even dignify with a reply. “Can we please get back on topic?” There Father practically begs, “I don’t know Cody’s one sided attraction to Nightwing seems pretty important” Paisley mumbles. “You can never be like Cat Woman” Oswald stage whispers, Cody actually looks kinda offended at that. There Father stares almost defeated at his squabbling children. He wants nothing more than to keep them safe, and can only feel like he’s falling miserably.

[supacutiepie]

For Caius!

The Fool: Where did Rook's journey begin? What were they doing before joining the Veilguard? - Caius was an active Warden Ensign, and he did a lot of investigative work like Evka and Antoine, but more so in Evka's role. He would do the physical labor and hunting down for experiments and investigations.

The Magician: What are Rook's thoughts on Solas? Do they change as the story progresses? -Caius started out believing Solas was a heartless bastard. Someone capable of killing a child (personal lore). Someone capable of dooming the world. By the end? He was just....sad. He saw a lonely, heartbroken, and abused spirit turned man.

The High Priestess: Which does Rook obey more: their head or their heart? -Caius obeys both, but this of course means his head. He puts logic to what he feels, he tries to be mature but he still gets yanked around by a compelling enough emotional burst.

The Empress: What does family mean for Rook? -It's.....complicated. Found family means the world to him, like any self respecting Transman, you know? His actual blood kin live in Rivain, and he hasn't spoken to any of them ever since he left for the Wardens. He....doesn't think they'd even recognize him, outside of his obvious bithmarks.

The Emperor: What does Rook's leadership style look like? -Everyone not only has a voice, but deserves to be heard. He accepts that his role is to be the actionary - he takes everyone's opinions and their insight and he breaks it down into as objective a choice as he can. Doesn't make the most popular man, or the most hated one.

The Hierophant: Is Rook religious? How do they feel about the religious organizations that impact their life the most? -Caius grew up in touch with Spirits and the free to try style of the Rivaini. It's a very mix bag style of religion, and he tries to be really open minded! But this whole Veilguard situation.... he doesn't trust the ancient texts to be in favor of the modern man, type scenario. He peoples faith in people, not old hymns.

The Lovers: Who is your Rook's most significant relationship within the Veilguard? How do they help Rook feel seen and understood? -Davrin. Yes, Caius and Lucanis are lovers, and yes Caius and Taash are DEEPLY similar (right down to their damn ethnic cultural coding) but Davrin - another man who understands how little time Caius feels there is. How precious, and how unfair, life is when trying to do the right thing. Everyone else he of course cares for, especially Lucanis! But Davrin as another Warden is his confidant when it coms to the scary shit, and he treasures that.

The Chariot: How does Rook fight? What are their preferred abilities and damage type? -Caius is a Rogue in that he prefers the tools of the trade, rather than has the absolute agility for the work. He likes the impersonal touch of distance, but his daggers are prized weapons. He will put himself on the line, but values having the option to hang back to mid or background range.

Strength: What gives your Rook courage? What inspires them to keep fighting? -Caius became a Warden because it felt noble. It felt like purpose. So when things get so absurdly bleak, he falls back into that noble art of 'someone has to do it'. He may not want to, or be able to, but he can try or find someone better than him. He wants to help people, he wants to give people a chance. He doesn't think it's being some knightly character - but he still fights like one. Because sometimes people need to see that someone else cares.

The Hermit: When Rook is alone with their thoughts, what do they think about? Is solitude a blessing or a curse for them? -Caius isn't perse haunted, but as a Warden he does have that background radio channel of the finite. He's aware of the taint in his blood, he's aware of the weight on his shoulders. He holds a veyr brave face when in battle and public, or even just with his team - but in private, he lets himself feel the pain. Thinks it'd be an injustice not to cry for the lost, or be angry for the injustice. So only in private, does he let the guard drop and feel everything raw and intensely.

The Wheel of Fortune: Describe an interesting character moment for your Rook. What made this moment stand out to you? -The Griffons. Caius grew up playing in old Warden Forts on the coast, being inspired by the few scraps of notes and books he found, but the imagery of the Griffon, this brave animal that just was good.... getting to see the first Griffon alive? It was the brightest most thrilling proof that he was in the right place at the right time.

Justice: How does Rook feel about the circumstances that led to them leaving their faction? What does returning feel like? -Caius is a bit infamous with the younger Ensigns and Initiate's for being a sort of role model - don't talk shit if you can't take shit back, but also don't let someone punch down on you. He knew damn well it'd get him into trouble, again, but the other option was to let innocent lives die, and to betray what he felt meant to be a Warden. He has no love lost for the Warden Commander, but also he despises people that get too complacent with the laws and rules.

The Hanged Man: What does Rook do when their hard work doesn't pay off? How do they cope with failure? -He puts all those big feelings into a bottle, he ties it to his belt and carries it with him through battle, through victory or inevitable loss. Then when he's alone, he throws so bottle as hard as he can and when it shatters so will he. Then, he makes new bottles. He uses what he learned from the defeat to temper the glass, what he learned in technique to weave ropes around the glass to hold it better. Every loss is a lesson.

Death: What part of Rook do they need to kill to become the best version of themselves? -Caius wouldn't like this question. He would honestly be upset if someone told him they killed a part of themself to survive further along. Which maybe, is the fault within. He wants to be actualized, he wants to have the purpose that makes sense. A life that's just...existing...may never be enough for him.

Temperance: What does Rook do to deal with the stress of their situation? -Talk. Talk, yap, laugh. He finds company and he settles in for telling stories, listening, playing music or singing off key. He needs people to destress, because being alone means his head gets a little too loud.

The Devil: What type of demon is most likely to target Rook? Why? -Oh this is tricky. Maybe something in the same vein of 'Obsession'. He lingers on things, on the past, trying to be better means he doesn't let some stuff go. He isn't one to be tempted by desire, or vengeance, but maybe something promising retribution could sway him.

The Tower: How does Rook respond to unexpected catastrophe? -To quote, "We survived before, we will again" but honestly, he's quick on adapting. He's got back up plans, he got maps, ledgers, and takes stock of inventory. He is not a man to go into anything without prep - so when shit hits the fan out of left field, he maybe gets stressed but he buckles down and locks the hell in- tells himself to feel big about it later.

The Star: When things get dark, what gives Rook hope? -There is always something that makes someone happy. Be it sunrise, be it the first Griffon in four hundred years, or ancient tomes, or dancing wisps, good coffee, giant lizards-- people have joy inherit to their soul and knowing that even the worse of us can be happy? It means there is always something to fight for. Even if he can't see his own happiness, he knows he can help protect someone elses.

The Moon: How does Rook's past impact their values? Does their past come with any biases or blind spots they have to account for? -Caius has some Big Feelings about his past, but it doesn't exactly hold him back - it instead gives him an edge, or so I like to think. He knows what life is like in Before's and After's. He knows the struggle of being a man, a woman, and inbetween. He has perspective, and he tries hard to use it to be compassionate, which makes him a better person. He thinks everyone deserves to have their own opinion- but maybe some people really shouldn't get to voice it so vocally...

The Sun: What is Rook passionate about? How do they fuel that passion? -People. The World? Caius wants to see it all, to understand it all. Only as an outsider, a bystander, or witness - he'd be thankful to see how someone else does it. He loves People, loves their quirks and their weird curiosities. He loves how impatient some people are, or how steady others can be. Caius believes in the rich tapestry of Life and he will diligently experience it as much as he can, traveling and reading and just quietly watching.

Judgement: How does Rook approach difficult decisions? How do they cope with the consequences of those choices? -Caius will use his heart in regards to his own issues, but with other people he shuts it down and uses his most objective and logical choice. EX: Treviso or Minrathous... he feels horrible he couldn't save both. But to him, Minrathous is a literal war state with experience of siege for over three hundred years, Treviso is a merchant canal with no army, no experience, and no help coming... it was a clear choice to him, but the weight is one he carries. In the end? It's almost a relief to know that both cities would have been changed, but he at least saved Treviso from the worst...he saved one of them.

The World: What does happily-ever-after look like for Rook? Is it attainable, or just wishful thinking? -There will come a day, that Caius can no longer fight the Calling. A day where he will be plagued, and reminded of the trade off he made. Until then, he wants to travel. He wants to take the good fight to the world, to help people, to live amongst them. If he gets to have two handsome men at his side, well that's one hell of a bonus. It's a relief, sadly, to know he won't be alone in the end. That Davrin will be there with him. And it's a joy to have Lucanis till then, showing them both how to find pleasure and joy in the darker parts of life. So, until the end, he will seek the world, and offer himself to it. He will leave behind a better world for him having been in it, and he will one day die fighting for it.

Rook Tarot Card Ask Game

Some in-depth character development questions for your Rook, inspired by the major arcana tarot cards

The Fool: Where did Rook's journey begin? What were they doing before joining the Veilguard?

The Magician: What are Rook's thoughts on Solas? Do they change as the story progresses?

The High Priestess: Which does Rook obey more: their head or their heart?

The Empress: What does family mean for Rook?

The Emperor: What does Rook's leadership style look like?

The Hierophant: Is Rook religious? How do they feel about the religious organizations that impact their life the most?

The Lovers: Who is your Rook's most significant relationship within the Veilguard? How do they help Rook feel seen and understood?

The Chariot: How does Rook fight? What are their preferred abilities and damage type?

Strength: What gives your Rook courage? What inspires them to keep fighting?

The Hermit: When Rook is alone with their thoughts, what do they think about? Is solitude a blessing or a curse for them?

The Wheel of Fortune: Describe an interesting character moment for your Rook. What made this moment stand out to you?

Justice: How does Rook feel about the circumstances that led to them leaving their faction? What does returning feel like?

The Hanged Man: What does Rook do when their hard work doesn't pay off? How do they cope with failure?

Death: What part of Rook do they need to kill to become the best version of themselves?

Temperance: What does Rook do to deal with the stress of their situation?

The Devil: What type of demon is most likely to target Rook? Why?

The Tower: How does Rook respond to unexpected catastrophe?

The Star: When things get dark, what gives Rook hope?

The Moon: How does Rook's past impact their values? Does their past come with any biases or blind spots they have to account for?

The Sun: What is Rook passionate about? How do they fuel that passion?

Judgement: How does Rook approach difficult decisions? How do they cope with the consequences of those choices?

The World: What does happily-ever-after look like for Rook? Is it attainable, or just wishful thinking?