#unnecessarily long and emotional post

[21stc3nturyd1gitalb0y]

a lot of you got a kick out of my service dog’s battle jacket, so i thought i’d share some more pictures of the man himself.

i know people have a lot of stereotypes about what service dogs and their handlers are “supposed” to look like, and it confuses people to see a young, seemingly able bodied punk rocker with a service dog.

but i share this to say, that if you as a disabled person don’t see a life for yourself, you can create one. when i started to realize i was disabled almost 10 years ago, i certainly didn’t imagine this is where i’d be now. in fact, i didn’t even plan to making it to this point.

but a diagnosis doesn’t have to mean the end of the world. sometimes your world is just beginning. some people are of the belief that everything happens for a reason. me, not so much. i’ll never be grateful for the suffering i experienced in this world, but i will always, always be glad i chose to stay in it.

[bookwyrminspiration]

hello! i am back on desktop at last! found out after a minute of searching that tony diterlizzi (guy who wrote wondla <- wondla being futuristic sci fi but i fucking LOVE the illustration styles of this man it has the. 80s fantasy the dark crystal/labryinth vibe?) apparently ALSO wrote the spiderwick chronicles but i don't know if you'd know those ones either! i only know the name because the movie cemented itself into my brain when i was younger.

and anyway YES it was one of the last books i downloaded before the trip so one of the first ones i saw upon opening my phone and i was like "oh quil would like my opinion on these i should probably get started" and it's definitely got the feel of a good book, i haven't read a lot of those in a hot minute haha. i love the way the author describes their creatures and characters, both bc i just love envisioning them in general and also because they're just so beautifully done! they fit so well with the story and i am having definite amounts of fun! and then THE LIFE OF THE CHARACTERS ough, you can definitely see it here because obviously we're hearing about kihrin's life in three different parts of the time line--present day, much younger, and the time that leads more clearly to present--and you can just FEEL him throughout every page which obviously should be a given for any main character but often you tend to follow the main character along one path, right, figuring things out as you go, and not that i expect grand revelations from this but in this way you get to see how he is a person and how he has become it. how it shapes him and how it Has Shaped him. i am making references all over the place but that's similar to the fifth season by n.k. jemisin (sci fi fantasy! GEOLOGY! i LOVE these books); you are given three names and don't figure out it's one person until later, and then you get to feel really complicated about how these three people are so different and know so much more and so much less than each other, and yet they are the same person, growing. and the other characters as well... talon is DEEPLY intriguing??? all the vane(i would put an accent but alas) he comes across?? butterbelly lmao??? you can tell they have existed both in and out of the story in the sense that. no they don't belong only to these pages. somewhere outside of the books, maybe in the author's head or in various notebooks or a word document there is enough info to inform how this character speaks and eats and moves and where they came from and where they're going and you can just TELL. gragh clutching you i LOVE when characters don't feel like just a means to an end!!!!

Hello again! You sent me many a message, give me a moment to get to them all. I've heard of the spiderwick chronicles by name, but I haven't read them myself. I feel like they were a series I'd see in the library as a kid and skip past because of the font on the spine or something stupid like that. Dark crystal/labyrinth vibes are very promising though...

anyway!! I would love your opinion, but absolutely no rush or pressure. And the "haven't read a lot of those in a hot minute" is exactly what I felt! There's a lot of good books out there, but reading this one is like, oh. this is a good book. It's got weight to it. It's a story and a world that exists beyond the story, and you can feel it seeping in at the edges.

And yes! the timelines for kihrin! it's so fascinating because it covers a sizable amount of time that is very significant for him developmentally. He changes and grows so much. So he's very different in the different points in time, but all of them are him. And through the switching back and forth we can both see who he is and exactly how he came to be like that. Which is so fascinating!! It's so interesting to compare his actions from younger him and older him, how he's learned and adapted.

I haven't read the fifth season but I believe I've heard of it, but that sounds very interesting. And i'm guilty of wanting to compare a chorus of dragons and how it feels to read it to how it feels to watch black sails all the time, so I don't mind the continued references :)

You get it!! When characters are people first and not a means to an end! Butterbelly's got wants and history entirely outside of what Kihrin's up to, an entire life we just get a glimpse at--but you can feel how much more there is to him even if we don't see it. He's not there just for Kihrin. And Talon! I won't say more about her except that we see her a lot across the series and she's so interesting to me.

And speaking of excellent characters, there's one you'll meet in book 2 that I'm really curious to see what you think of. because I think. you will greatly appreciate this character's complexity and choices and beliefs.

Moral of the story is that characters who exist for themselves first create such powerful, immersive stories when done right. And a chorus of dragons does it so right! Everyone is unique and follows different beliefs about right and wrong, about what lines they will and won't cross, their self-perception. And it goes beyond the characters!! the world is also SO rich! You see more of it in following books but my god I love the world building <33. I just love the series in general I'm so excited to see you reading it

[floraisunwell]

Promise | s.r

who? post-prison!reid x ex gf reader (she's a nurse)

category: angst (bold move ig)

summary: Spencer left you 5 months ago without a word for undisclosed reasons but he comes teary eyed to your door after seeing a girl that looks a little too much like you.

based on (very loosely lol): promise by laufey. the fic does not follow the events of the song at all but i love the "if it weren't for the sight of a boy who looked just like you standing out on Melrose avenue" part right at the end so it's all on that line.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: my first fic ahhhhhhh, i'm so nervous and happy rn, this is my baby and ik there's a lot of space for improvement but i'm proud of my writing, this comunnity is full of amazing people and if it wasn't such a lovely space i would have never posted this. shoutout to @lilacsandlavenderhaze for being the first to hear my idea and telling me i should go ahead and write it; @spencersbabymama for telling me to cut the bullshit and self deprecation and post this; and to @esote-rika for being my first readerrrr. love y'all <3

dividers by @aquazero

English is not my first language pls tell me about any spelling and grammatical mistakes. enjoyy!

The air was cold and crisp, a light drizzle could be felt dampening the streets – a scene typical for this time of the year in Washington. Spencer had gone out with the team to get some drinks after a hard but successful case, he was happy, of course, the fact that they had caught the killer pleased him but everything inside the building felt overwhelming: the voices, and the drunk conversations, all the limbs touching a little too much, the overly loud music. He was out of it and to be honest he had been out of it for quite some time now, actually some months, everyone noticed how the breakup made him feel.

Funny, because he was the one to leave.

After you came back from a long shift at the hospital excited to cuddle with the love of your life (or so you thought) but the only remnant of him you found was a sticky note placed on the cover of a book you were reading at the time:

"I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore"

That was all he said before destroying everything you two had built over 3 years, 3 years of love, pain, and learning, 3 years of giving everything for each other, destroyed in less than 24 hours like nothing.

He hadn't been the same for a long time, though—not since prison. You didn't blame him; you tried to understand him, give him space, time, and everything one could need to heal. He was not the same, of course. You weren't expecting the same Spencer to come back, sure, but you also were not expecting whoever he had become: some cold and distant version of the person you used to know.

Your relationship with Spencer is divided into two eras: Before Millburn and After Millburn.

Before Millburn, you guys were somewhat happy. Both of you were overworked and stressed but happy. You would tell him about your work, and he would tell you about his. In the rare times, he got a day off work, he would hug you whenever he could, like he was making sure you wouldn't slip away.

After Millburn, you didn't talk much, not unless it was necessary, he didn't hug you a lot anymore, in fact, the last time he hugged you was when you went to pick him up at the correctional facility, all the emotions running high, you remember thinking he looked and smelled different, you didn't know he would be so different when you wrapped him in your arms, placed a kiss on his shoulder and whispered that everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. It was all so not fine and everyone around you two could tell. Yet you could have never imagined that Spencer, the man who made the hopeless romantic in you thrive would leave in such a disheartening way.

Back at O’Keeffe’s, the team was still at it. The count of how many rounds of drinks Rossi had paid long lost, Emily and JJ leaning suspiciously close to each other, Rossi nursing some unnecessarily extravagant drink, Garcia and Morgan somewhere on the dance floor and Hotch nowhere to be seen. Spencer had gone outside, hoping the sensory overload would ease with the fresh air, it did slightly but the agglomerate of people was no better than the one inside, so many people, reeking of alcohol, walking like zombies, and saying nonsensical things. As he was standing near the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, the soft rain dampening his hair, Spencer let his mind wander and it ended up where it always does: him contemplating if leaving was the right decision.

He was so deep in this thought that didn't even notice the man approaching until it happened- a hard shoulder bump that took him away from his thoughts.

"Sorry dude" the man muttered not even caring to glance back as he moved past. Spencer blinked, shocked as he watched the man move swiftly toward a small group of people nearby. A group that included you.

His heart jumped to his mouth. No - not you. But she looked like you, uncannily so. She even acted like you, the way she threw her back when she laughed or how she scrunched her nose in an attempt to put her sliding glasses in place - he could've sworn it was you.

For a fraction of a minute, he actually thought it was you. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step forward before reality sank in and he retreated. It wasn't you; it was never you.

But as he watched her wrapping her arms around the man's neck, as his hands almost automatically moved to her waist, and they both smiled like idiots in love. He couldn't help but feel like he had been stabbed and the knife was being twisted inside him. Was this some type of fucked up joke by the universe? "This could be you, bad thing you lost her" The thing is, he didn't lose you- he gave up on you which was worse because maybe if he had stayed, and tried a little harder, you would still be together.

He staggered back a few steps, and if he hadn't reached the wall, he would've fallen considering he already felt his knees buckle as all the bottled-up emotions from the past five months came crashing onto him; he was overwhelmed by his own feelings, eyes blurry with tears as a lump formed in his throat and the weight on his chest got heavier.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, he reached for his phone in the inside pocket of his jacket. His thumb hovered above your name in the contacts list. The message he typed was brief:

"Are you home?"

He didn't get a reply, he wasn't waiting for one. The moment he hit send his legs were already moving, practically running towards the street to hail a cab. He gave the driver your address, and it came out of his mouth easily, as if he had never stopped saying it.

You were in the shower when his message came through, you didn't pay the loud notification much attention, not even caring to glance at the device when you heard the familiar ding. You prioritized the small occasions you got to take care of yourself when your job is to take care of others.

Now freshly showered and in the kitchen making tea- the next step on your little routine- you hear a knock on the door, a distinct knock, a knock you could never forget, not even a billion years from now. Your heart stopped for a moment, heartbeat pounding in your ears, you didn't quite register you were moving towards the door until it was open and he was standing there, his brown eyes open wide once he registered your presence, reacting as though you opening the door was the last thing he expected. You just stood there for a few seconds, staring at each other until Spencer wrapped you in his arms like he used to, his nostrils flooding with the smell of your shampoo and body wash, smells he recognized all too well, smells that felt like home.

You pushed him away, shattering the brief feeling of happiness he had started to feel.

"What are you doing here?" You asked almost a little too loud in an attempt to hide the hurt in your voice

"I miss you" he replied eyes searching for yours.

You stood there, arms folded, trying to hide how weak those words made you feel. He had no right to miss you, not after leaving the way he did.

Why should I care? You thought to yourself. He made it clear that he didn’t care about you, but you cared, you cared so deeply that it made your heart ache.

You were not going to let him in.

"You can't just stop talking to me and then come here like nothing happened, Spence." You couldn't help using the nickname, your voice falsely steady, trying to hide the pain.

"I know, I just-can I come in?" No reply "Please"

You hesitated, gripping the door handle tighter as a tornado of emotions swirled on your chest. Anger. Hurt. Loneliness. You wanted to slam the door in his face, make him feel a small fraction of what you felt over the past 5 months. But buried beneath all these harsh feelings, there was something softer, something you felt ashamed to acknowledge: the echo of all the nights you stayed up worrying about him and what could happen in his work, all the mornings you woke up without the smell of coffee lingering through the apartment.

You let him in.

You tried to convince yourself that letting him in was about answers- you deserved an explanation, some sort of closure at least. But as you stepped aside and watched him walk past you knew that wasn’t the whole truth.

Because no matter how much he’d hurt you, part of you still longed for the man he used to be.

“This doesn’t change anything.” You muttered, as much to yourself as to him. He gave a slight nod in reply, eyes watering. Damn him and his big brown eyes.

 As you were turning around after closing the door behind you, he captured you in a hug again and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around him too.

★

Somehow, he ended up asleep in your bed and as you gaze at his peaceful resting face, your mind tells you to wake him up, tell him to go home and never come back, tell him that he doesn't get to leave and reappear whenever it suits him, tell him that he can fuck off for breaking your heart like that. Yet, you don't do any of that, because your heart tells you not to.

tysm for reading, likes and reblogs are always deeply appreciated

@angellic4l it's finally here bestieee!

[sgiandubh]

Delulu vs. trululu

As expected, promo for the overall stodgy TCND just started in NYC, including with this released and then quickly deleted Instagram pic, shared by the Sassenach Spirits' account:

Not the cleverest marketing & sales move, if you ask me. Knowing this fandom's usual bigot and/or scoffing triggers (which I tend to think S & team do, and rather very well), why even entertain lurid speculation and, by the same token, an unnecessarily juvenile image of The Co-founder? Oh, how I wish they'd step up their game a bit and perhaps be more coherent with that fresh, witty sales approach that first caught my eye!

Why. A rhetorical question that never grows old, as far as SC are concerned. Take for example the latest interview released yesterday by the Fangirlish.com website, which is barely a blurb in the great Instagram tapestry. 6k followers do not a great media outlet make, I believe and they've been around since 2011 (!).

Perhaps on design or perhaps because both of them DGAF anymore, we were treated to these parallel public statements on a rarely brought about and carefully censored calibrated topic: personal lives.

[Source: https://fangirlish.com/2025/01/12/interview-sam-heughan-and-caitriona-balfe-on-jamie-claires-growth-in-outlander/]

While C ambiguously mentions what Claire's character brought to who she is now, she is probably throwing to the scrapheap that constipated but convenient braggadocio that she was 'totally able to separate between Claire and herself'. Something we kept on reading ad nauseam from EFH to the Remarkable Week-end and beyond. She now readily acknowledges she has led 'this project alongside S', all the while - which is even more telling - 'assuming everything that implies'. For some reason, I doubt she simply meant the rather decorous EP functions, but also the entire emotional burden of it all, to which this damned fandom is not exactly a stranger. As we have long surmised, they are in this thing together and they did it together (been together, loved together, lived together, lied together...) all along this tortuous path. Cue in the usual venom that they can't stand each other anymore, I don't really care, at this point in time.

S dutifully obliges as C's sounding board and takes it the needed (but completely unnecessary, Narrative-wise) extra mile: JAMMF has given him 'an incredible relationship, one I never thought I’d have'.

Surely he does not mean Flukenzie Floozy or the entire Fitness Harem panoply, Ha-wa-wee 🐰and Dubai Burlesque included. And she could have rectified on the spot or poked fun at him or anything in between. Yet, she did not: surely Tracula is again the 'very understanding' character of that plot!

Why even bring it up all of this now? Why even mention personal stuff both of them have a rather appalling PR management of, from unnecessary exposure to gaslighting an entire fandom and probably also the kitchen sink?

For the sake of an ending series?

Oh, come on - give me a break, here. We are neither delulu, nor stupid.

PS: Thank you for the pic. You know who you are ;)

Later edit: I am told with good reason that is was not Sassenach Spirits which posted that pic, but the Instagram user @stevieme88 - a bartender at that last SS event in the US. He then proceeded to go private again, but the pic was downloaded and shared by that very well informed vigilante account, which then chose to tag Sassenach Spirits (why?).

Gracias a ti, siempre.

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

I'm seeing a notable handful of posts in the Amazing Digital Circus tag disagreeing on Gangle's character and I think the big thing about the difference in perspective is really just: How seriously are thou as an audience member taking the 'minimum wage job for a day' premise? (I will singlehandedly re-introduce 'thou' into the english lexicon you watch me, it's so much better than the general-you)

In a world where this is meant to be treated like a shitty little game, Gangle's behaviour in response to Jax misbehaving is really kind of unacceptable. Ragatha's more fucked up by the Stupid Sauce that Caine somehow decided was a good idea to include than she is by the dump in the deep fryer, Gangle did not need to threaten Jax with "horrible punishment" from the most powerful thing in their lives over what amounts to general disrespect and a minor inconvenience. Mr. Orbzman is an NPC and not a person, Jax shouldn't have to hold his tongue about it like he would at a real job where the customers are real people with real feelings. Pomni's feelings over and attachment to Gummigoo are more important than being a good little cashier and playing the game properly. Gangle putting Jax on cleaning duty for the bathrooms when they 'look like a biohazard' is absurd and demeaning because it's a long established fact that this is a digital world where bio-anything is completely meaningless, and she's just making him do unpleasant shit for no reason other than she wants it done and she wants him doing it. And her responding to his continued refusal to play along by locking him in an isolated room, strapping him to a chair, and Doing A Brainwashing To Him is Fucking Horrifying and borderline irredeemable.

Also: "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean." Is frankly an evil thing to say.

But in a world where this is a situation with real stakes, where failure or success in this endeavor Means Something, where Jax dumping Ragatha in the fryer is something that is hurtful and disruptive and unnecessarily cruel, where Jax refusing to keep his mouth shut until he's on break and out of earshot of the customers makes the day of the person he's badmouthing worse and might result in penalties from people above their heads, where Pomni leaving her post to try and talk to Gummigoo is both actively letting down her coworkers who are relying on her to do the job she's been assigned and an imposition on Gummigoo because They Are Strangers Now and there is no taking him back to the circus with her, where Gangle has been trusted with a position of responsibility and authority which has knock on effects for everyone beneath her and Jax won't even clean out the stupid bathrooms when they need cleaning— in that situation, Gangle's very manic and high strung about it and perhaps crosses a line with the whole 'summarily breaking Jax's spirit complete with a horror movie reference' thing, but She's Still Right.

Jax needed an attitude adjustment and nothing was working, so she goes a little nuclear on him. Pomni shouldn't be piling all this emotional baggage on someone who, right now, is a random customer. Gangle's very gentle with Ragatha when she's clearly out of it because she understands something is causing Ragatha to behave loopy and out of character, and in response, Ragatha says the colorful thoughtful gift that's been keeping Gangle together and allowing her to independently function at a level she's usually not capable of makes her annoying!!!

That's somehow so much worse than Jax saying he likes her better sad??? Because at least with Jax, he's expressing his displeasure at being ordered around by someone he previously called "submissive and agreeable" and not having any control over this situation. Ragatha's just saying something mean after telling Gangle she doesn't need help (she does) and thinks she could do a better job as shift manager (she has no proof of this).

And regardless of how seriously thou as the audience member are taking it and why, Gangle is taking it Incredibly Seriously. She is on 'If you die in the game, you die in real life' levels of emotional investment, this is all So Real to her, and anytime the others treat it like it's dumb and useless and hollow, it kicks up So Much Distress within her for reasons I'm gonna trust you guys to think on. And thou might think that is a detriment to her character in and of itself, or thou might be more endeared to her by it, but that is what's happening. So basically the reason some of y'all are coming out of this episode liking Gangle less and some are coming out adoring her is mostly dependent on if you personally are predisposed to take her side by taking the Hard Day's Work At Spudsy's Family Diner seriously.

[myillusions]

Home (Joel Miller x f!reader)

Summary: You and Joel have been in a relationship, but only in private, for multiple months. After you spot him with another woman whilst roaming Jackson, scepticism ensues. The trials and errors of Joel Millers emotions.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: age gap (joel is mid-50’s, reader is 24), pretty heavy angst, fluff, swearing, joel being mean, happy ending, fighting (verbal), uhh misconception on a situation

A/N: hi!! first one shot fr so nervous to post this one. i apologise for it being quite rushed it was typed on my phone and somewhat unedited!! still hope u enjoy thanks so much to anyone who reads <33

“Joel!” You caterwauled through a boisterous laugh as his sturdy arms came to wrap around your waist, hauling you back down onto the sunken mattresses, wrapping himself around you to keep you there, limbs intertwining. You struggled for a few pitiful moments, before you inevitably relaxed against his hold with a passive sigh. Joel lowered his head down to press against the dip of your neck, littering multiple content kisses there, before he grumbled against your skin,

“Stay.”

You gave a roll of your optics, pushing him away with a palm to his chest to meet his conceited grin with your own teasing one. “We have to go to patrols, Joel. We’ve slept in for too long.”

Joel grunted, his hands finding their way to your sides once again to hoist you up to lay on top of him, neck craning upwards to press his lips passionately against your own, hand securely suited on your cheek. You instantaneously reciprocated, humming against his mouth, pressing up against him tenaciously.

You both stayed like that until your throat screamed for reprieve, disconnecting from him; though he still chased after your lips. You gave a faint chuckle, tapping him against his abdomen as you lifted your thigh upwards, rolling off his brawny physique to heave yourself from the bed, however begrudgingly. “Come on, old man. Get up.”

Joel remained where he was set, arms crossing behind his head comfortably, merely staring over towards you as you rummaged around to pick out blemished clothes for the day. After dressing, you peered back over towards Joel, who enduringly continued to examine you from where you stood fumblingly, stealing all remaining breath from your lungs with a single glare.

You swallowed harshly, before sheepishly saying, “What?”

Joel allowed a small yet winsome smile to crack against his features, shaking his head slowly. “Nothin’. Just wanted to look at you.”

The patrols of the day dragged out for an unnecessarily prolonged time, limbs aching with fatigue by the time you returned to the confines of the Jackson walls. During the entire patrol, your mind had been preoccupied; the days earlier moments shared with Joel finding a special place in your heart, carving its name against it, deeply and thoroughly. You bit your lip in thought, pondering on your relationship with the peppered grey and brunette-haired man. Sure, you weren’t exactly together, and your entire situation consisted only behind closed doors; besides the hushed whispers, discreet glances and tender touches in passing, that is. You two both agreed early on that you wouldn’t be public about your close association, preferring to keep it private. If this would be from embarrassment of being seen with you or to protect himself, you weren’t sure; but in all sincerity, you didn’t much care. He had you, you had him, and his arms around you felt like home.

You were dragged from your thoughts when a spirited giggle sounded from a nearby alleyway. Allowing your curiosity to take the best of you, you creeped forth to seek out the source of it. Intrigued, you peeked your head around the corner, heart instantaneously spiralling downwards into the pits of your stomach, finding home there. It didn’t take long to register the scene unveiling before you, becoming so accustomed to the way the familiar man’s broad back strained against his stocky shoulders, with his hair unruled, sticking out in multiple different directions. Only thing was; he wasn’t alone. Joel was placed halfway down the alley, close towards a woman, who you assumed was the origin of the titter. She shifted in her placing, alluring eyes flickering up towards Joel, who was whispering incoherent words into her ear.

You didn’t need to see anything else, tears already pitifully welling up against your sockets to blur the sight as you shoved yourself away from the scratchy brick which burned along your flushed skin, setting a quick pace down the streets of Jackson, breath strained and struggling to find its escape. The overwhelming, jagged emotions surrounding you like a hurricane caused your insides to wound up tightly, threatening you with the efforts of a choked sob. You let your feet take you in any opposing direction to where Joel and the woman weren’t, eventually winding atop a hill, spine raking down the back of bark as you settled into a compacted ball.

You bit down on your bottom lip as it wavered. The pain in your heart accelerated from a dull throb to a searing, glaring pain; kicking your heartbeat to something much adjacent to a sharp hammer against a blistering anvil. And just as swiftly as it came, all afflictions broke from your wind pipe, like a brisk, frigid zephyr rushing past; causing an agonising weep to be sought from your throat. The conflict caused your head to be thrown forwards in the space between your arms, seeking any source of solace possible. Not much came.

That was how you ended up here, fixed atop a hillock, with Maria giving her best to console you, wiping away reminiscing tears from your cheeks messily with the back of your palm.

“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

The question makes Maria pause, her brows pinching together in a questioning manner as her attention downturned to where you were perched, set with your back against an oak tree and knees firmly planted against your chest. “Whys that?”

“He’ll never love me.” You murmur in response, throat closing in as you meet your dejected gaze with Maria’s own benign one, swirling with hints of sympathy. It was blatantly clear who the topic was revolved around, and you were aware that Maria understood this, too. The only people who knew much about you and Joel were Tommy and Maria, which you were thankful for.

She took a sharp inhale as she considered her next words, her head tilting to the side thoughtfully. “I think, sometimes, we fall for people we know we shouldn’t.”

You gave a defeated, laborious sigh; stomach churning sickeningly at her words, before you gravely inquired, fretting Maria’s answer. “But why?”

“It’s easier to fool ourselves and say that we’re okay, I guess. If we fall in love with someone we can’t or don’t have, it keeps the fantasy of ‘what if’ alive, y’know?” Maria answered softly, as though worried she would puncture an old wound of yours, whilst you apprehensively pick at strands of grass, the texture stinging against your tender flesh, “When someone is unobtainable, we live in the world we create of them in our mind. It makes seeing reality much more difficult.”

You frown towards this, tears watering with the threat of spilling over in a moment, though you force it back. Maria found a way to discreetly pinpoint your exact situation with shrewd words, however pessimistic. You were unable to form a coherent sentence in reply, so instead you offer the woman a tight-lipped, doleful smile, truly grateful for her opinion. You drag your glare over the setting sun, which began to give way to the moon, drowning the sky out in a whirlpool of azure and bronze and littering the canvas with white specks.

You gave a pensive hum, keeping your attention set against a peculiar dot shining obnoxiously brighter than the rest. “When you consider things like the stars, our affairs don’t seem to matter very much, do they?”

Maria gave a light chuckle of her concurrence, arms raising to wrap along her chest. Your head dipped downwards to now focus on the soiled terrain, the brief moment of peacefulness rapidly fleeting. It really is the hardest thing- when the person you want to comfort you the most, is the one that left you feeling that way. There’s no escaping that painful homesick feeling that settles in your chest.

Once the sun had completely dipped behind the silhouettes of the mountains, you had bid Maria a tepid farewell, heading back in the direction in which you came, only this time veering off to walk towards your assigned house. After hauling the door open and closing it brutally behind you, your footsteps barely made it past the kitchen before three resounding knocks banged against the flimsy wood of your door, the echo reverberating against your eardrums frantically. You released a shaky exhale, shifting back around to twist the handle, slinging the door open, only to be met with Joel standing on your porch, an amiable grin stretched along his expression. Though, it immediately fell as he took in your appearance; puffy eyes, reddened cheeks and a perpetual frown.

“What happened?” Joel questioned, taking a step forwards to embrace you within his hold; but you precariously moved a pace backwards, causing his arms to fall loosely by his side. You cast your gaze downwards, not yet to be able to meet the man’s interrogating eyes.

“I saw you… out there…” You murmured; words barely distinguishable. Joel took another step, closing the door behind him with his foot, but he didn’t dare make any additional actions.

“What? What do you mean, you saw me?” Joel inquired; tone wary. You didn’t respond for a multitude of passing moments in tense silence, until Joel called your name, breaking you from your sorrow and giving way to vexation; like a glass bottle, which withheld a secret note within it, shattering. You snapped your attention up towards him, profile hardening.

“That woman, Joel. I saw you. In that alleyway.” You informed, taking the chance to reverse more from his towering figure. You watched as his face morphed into that of uncertainty, before it fell into cognisant and penitence. You stood, waiting bitterly for his coming response. He opened his mouth for a few moments, though no words came; he fixed himself with a cough, shifting against his weight subtly.

“It wasn’t anything. We were only talking.” Joel tried, and you couldn’t stop the way an astonished scoff escaped you, eyes rolling sardonically, as you shot back, voice somewhat lifting to a dim yell,

“Talking? Please, Joel, that’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard!” Joel gave a groan, hand lifting to rub at the spot between his eyes momentarily, his head shaking vigorously.

“No, you don’t understand. She’s been causing problems with Tommy, I was only warning ‘er-“ You interrupted him with a humourless laugh, throwing your arms up against the air. How idiotic did he believe you were?

“Don’t even try lying to me. It was obvious, she was practically undressing you with her eyes!” You retorted, blatant indignation raging against your eyes.

“I ain’t bloody lyin’, girl!” Joel countered, his own tone thickening. You gave a harsh glare towards him, pivoting on your heel to force your way into the lounge room, clammy hands running along the material of your pants in efforts to compose yourself, though it proved to only rile you up more as Joel followed suit.

You whirled around here, scowling. “How can I even trust you, Joel? You don’t tell me anything! I don’t even know how you feel half of the time.” You pointed out with an exasperated huff. Joel stopped in his steps towards this, jaw grinding downwards irritably.

“You knew what you were getting into when this started.” Joel reminded you, only causing your stomach to lurch drastically more. He was right, you had known what getting into something with Joel Miller meant. It meant nothing was public, so he had no true obligation towards you. That didn’t break your stance, though, remaining resolutely stubborn as you crossed your arms over your chest protectively.

Joel gave an overwhelmed sigh, his posture slightly falling as he spoke, gaze directing to the side of you. “This is wrong. You’re so young, you don’t know what you’re doing to yourself, being with me.”

This caused you to shoot daggers against his skin, teeth clenching. “I’m not a child, Joel. I have every idea.” You turned away from him, unable to continue to watch him stand there like he was being forced to remain in place, like it was a duty. You clicked your tongue resentfully. “Though maybe I should’ve listened when Maria said this would be a mistake.”

Joel grumbled from behind you, his movements stiff. “Why does everything always have to be a fuckin’ struggle with you?”

You spun around to face him, viciously, storming forwards to accusingly jab a finger against his sternum. “Me? I can’t believe you sometimes! You can barely even look at me in public! But when we’re alone, you say all this comforting shit to me. Then you act like absolutely nothing happened? God, and I’m the idiotic one? I don’t know why you’re dragging me along, why you’re getting me to play this game. I don’t understand you.”

Joel immediately shoved your hand away from him, holding it against his own palm securely, countering you with an immensely threatening sneer. “Like I told you already; she’s been causing trouble around Jackson, and it’s a problem for Tommy. I was telling her to back off. Nothing was happening.”

At this point, it was too late to even comprehend the thought of him standing before you, so ardently obstinate in safeguarding his feelings with his reticent answers. Besides, even if you did believe him about the woman, the dispute dug so much deeper than that, this was only the pristine cherry on top of the double scooped ice cream. You had convinced yourself into accepting his requirements for the relationship, though you always covertly knew you wished he wanted more. You raked your hand back from his as you felt a tug against your throat, an alarming sob beginning to rise up to fall past your lips. You refused to let Joel see you cry, though, instead turning your head away from him, with a suppressed sniffle under your hand as you wiped against your cheek.

“Maybe you should just leave now.” You decided with a whisper, keeping your gaze set against your window, where outside the people of Jackson frolicked absentmindedly over the winding streets. Joel persisted to remain in his spot, standing rigid.

“Just leave, Joel.” You spat out, your voice cracking unadvisedly. Joel gave a defeated sigh, twisting on his heel to vacate the residence. And just like that, he left you standing in your living room, stout tears rolling down your sensitive skin the second the door slammed behind his dispersing frame. You pressed your limbs closer against yourself, head lolling down sullenly. You were unsure which pain was worse- the shock of what happened or the ache of what never did. Homesick.

Two days had passed since your quarrel with Joel. To say it had been arduous would be an

understatement. You were sat in your lounge room, pressed closely against the cushions besmirched with soot, restlessly picking at your nails after returning home from a tiresome afternoon of patrols. You had been weighing the entire argument in your head since it occurred, unable to sleep the night of, thrashing and twisting against your worn-out mattress, only to eventually grow irritable and sit out on the front of your porch until the sun awoke from its slumber.

After a multitude of hours spent staring towards your bergamot-stained wall, you hoisted yourself from the uncomfortable material, throwing on a black wool jacket on your way out the door, decisively trudging in the direction of Joel’s house. The flow of your relationship with the man had been a choreographed dance for multiple months, ripping you apart when you needed to cling. You supposed the time had come to implement some new moves. This was the only thought rushing through your mind as you slammed your fist against his stocky door multiple times, regret instantly seeking into your veins; but before you had the time to turn and rush back in the way you came, the door was thrown open to reveal a stern Joel, who had also just come back from his own patrols, no doubt. With the way fatigue hopped against his eyes and his rugged appearance mixed with worn-out clothes, it was clear he was tired.

“Hi.” You breathed, eyes wide as you gawked at him, poignantly. He stared for a second, his expression unreadable. Much to your relief, he then moved off to the side to allow you in, wordlessly. You edged past him, shoulder lightly raking against him which caused him to exhale woodenly as he shut the door, the scent of whiskey wafting over your senses like a lustrous wave. You turned to face him, all prepared speeches dashing off before you could catch up with them. You rather just- pathetically gawped over at him.

Joel then cleared his throat, brows furrowing as he pushed. “Well?”

You shook your head, regathering yourself. You blinked back towards him, breath quickening expeditiously as his expectant gaze met yours. Fuck, why was this so difficult? You decided to pace in front of him, in attempts to gain some ounce of confidence.

“Ok, well, you see- I kinda, no, I sorta- I figured that I didn’t really hear you out all that much yesterday.” You began to ramble, hands flailing beside your body as you walked back and forth, “It’s just I saw you with that woman, y’know? And it hurt. It hurt a lot. Even if it wasn’t anything. And you’re embarrassed to be seen with me around other people, and that hurt more. So even when you tried to explain the situation, I didn’t want to believe you-“

“Embarrassed?” Joel interrupted gruffly, squinting. You stopped dead in your tracks to peer around at him, curiously. Joel gave a sigh of realisation, a small grin replacing his frown, though it was quick to be wiped. He took a prompt step forwards, to which you tensed at, though didn’t dare move.

“Sweetheart, I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. I just-“ Joel paused here, his tongue swiping along his bottom lip, “It’s not safe for you to be seen around with me. I’m not a good man.”

You completely turned to face him, awareness barrelling into you at blistering speed, demeanour abruptly flipping over and around. Fuck. You had thoroughly believed that you were the problem. Had you truly misinterpreted the entire situation?

You shook your head in an insistent manner. “You’re not a bad man, either, Joel; I don’t really believe that.” Joel grimaced towards your words, palms curling into fists by his side.

“You say that, but you don’t understand the consequences of being- truly being with someone like me.” You stare towards him, weighing your options against the palm of your hand, before you come to a rash conclusion.

You hastily drew yourself closer to him, “I don’t care. I want to be seen with you. I want people to know.”

“People will talk.” Joel persuaded tirelessly, moving back from you until his spine almost pressed up against the discoloured wall. You almost sneered your reply, determined for him to recognise your lack of acknowledgement for the opinions of others.

“Let them. Joel; even if you are doing this to try and protect me, I don’t want it. I can protect myself. And I- we’ve all done some fucked up shit. It’s a necessity in a world like this. I want you. All of you. Please.”

“Why?” Joel insisted, and you couldn’t muster up a reason to not allow the words to spill easily from your mouth, like translucent liquid,

“Because I’m in love with you, Joel. I struggle to even form a logical thought when I’m around you. You make me feel safe, like I belong. I wouldn’t have survived this long here without you.”

An inflexible silence rested against the abundantly thick air, gripping you in a chokehold. Lament wavered along your physique, and you opened your mouth to speak again, prepared to spill out a thousand apologies.

“Joel-“ You were cut off by Joel taking two perilous steps forwards to crash his lips against yours. It took a moment for the action to configure in your brain, gears short circuiting, causing Joel to tense and begin to pull back. You quickly raised your palm to his cheek, salt peppered beard scratching deliciously at your skin, bringing his jaw down to your own to meld your mouths back together; creating the perfect sculpture. You crooned against him as he turned the both of you around, pressing your back against the wallpaper, your arms dropping carelessly around his neck as his hands came to circle your waist and pin you as near to him as physically possible, and you blissfully allowed it.

Joel gave a groan when you disconnected your lips from his own, having to glide back up to the surface and draw in an immense inhale. You smiled, content, as your head dipped forth to press your foreheads together, breath being deftly shared between the small space separating you both.

“Okay.” Joel spoke gently after a while, your gaze flitting up to meet his, falling into a trance at the way his brown eyes deeply bore against you.

“Okay?” You repeated, breathless. He gave a small grin, his attention flitting downwards to your lips, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach a hand up and trace his thumb over your swollen bottom lip.

“We’ll give it a try.” Joel replied, his optics flittering back up your face. Your breath hitched as his digit dragged along your cheek bone. We’ll give us a try. You released a pleased exhale, eyelashes momentarily fluttering down against your skin as you nodded. You blinked back up towards Joel, whose gaze was already intently set on you.

“Okay.” You affirmed, and Joel dipped his head down towards you again, capturing you in an embrace that sent a sharp shiver along your spine. Wrapped against his build, his scent of sandalwood and musk drifting about, plump lips comfortingly pressed against yours and brown eyes which you could find yourself lost in for decades. And in that peace, you found home again.

“You and I, always almost. Again, and again. We were always on the verge of almost. Never nothing, never something.”

Home - Paravi

Comments and feedback are appreciated!

[gilbirda]

I'm just a simple guard, man

Part 6 of my Danny is an Arkham Security Guard AU (og tumblr post)

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

There was silence and tension as they watched Batman go through the motions, tying up the unmoving but awake Joker and moving him to somewhere closer to the entrance. Joker was surprisingly responsive and lucid, just mellowed and obedient. Somehow it made it better — if he was a vegetable Jason knew Batman wouldn’t let that go until Danny undid what he had done.

Danny.

The Ghost King.

Jason didn’t know exactly what that meant. Heck, until today he didn’t know that ghosts were kind of a thing. Mythical creatures, he could buy. Apparitions, imprints of conscience that were unavenged — that he could buy too. But a Ghost King implied an organized society with status and a legal organization. A power structure.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention that.”

He turned towards the doctor well aware his face showed every emotion.

“The fuck?”

“Did that really happen?” Duke was trying to keep calm, but his eyes were wide open and his hands slightly trembling.

“Yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“But—”

“How the heck—”

“ — how did he do that —”

“ — did he set him on fire!”

“ — and is he even human?”

“Children,” Alfred stood from his seat, positioning himself between the brothers and their guest. “Let her breathe.”

“It’s okay, Mr. — uh…” She blushed as she realized she never asked for his name.

“Alfred,” the butler smiled, “Alfred Pennyworth.”

“Mr. Pennyworth,” she nodded politely. “I’m fine. I am aware that after that… theatrical spectacle, explanations are needed.”

“Indeed.” Batman cut in the conversation. “Proper explanations are in order. After I deliver the Joker to Arkham.”

“You can’t be serious!” Did the old man go crazy? Back to that place?

Jazz frowned, seemingly sharing his thoughts. She leaned closer to the microphone and spoke in a controlled voice. “Where are you delivering him? In the hospital.”

Bruce took way too long to answer, so Tim did it for him. “Through the front door?”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. “Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I said, wait for me.” Jazz reached for her discarded jacket, eyeing the door to the elevator back to the manor. “Joker is my patient and I need to be there.”

“What for?”

She turned to look at Jason. “He doesn’t deserve to be left at the mercy of some of the people in the Asylum. They could—”

“He can rot for all I care.”

The vigilante walked up to her, getting in her way and using his height and build to scare her into submission. Jazz held his gaze, defiant, muscles tense and ready to throw down if needed.

“You don’t know that place like I do.”

Jason huffed. “Whatever the inmates want to do to him, he deserves it.”

“I wasn’t talking about the inmates.” Her teal eyes steeled with fury. “Arkham has a history of staff abusing their authority.”

Duke glanced at Alfred, unsure what to make of that statement. He quietly stood up, getting ready to intervene in case Jason decided to get violent; but Alfred held him back with a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“Again, he deserves it.”

Tired of craning her neck to look up at him, Jazz stepped back. “He deserves the judgment of the people he’d hurt in the past — something my brother and I can promise you will happen.” Given what they saw in the camera feeds, nobody doubted the siblings could ensure it. “But I’m not going to tolerate that my patient spends his last years alive being unnecessarily abused.”

“I told you—”

“What do you think,” she interrupted Jason, her gaze cold and her body tense, “will happen if someone dies full of rage? If in their last moments they wish they could enact vengeance on those that harmed them?” She narrowed her eyes, knowing her words were hitting something in him. “What do you think will happen to the Joker’s soul if he’s abused and tortured at Arkham, and probably killed, after he crosses the Veil?”

“I—”

“A huge pain in the ass, it’s what will happen.”

The tense silence could be cut with a knife. Duke couldn’t understand how Jazz not only managed to stare down the six foot something tank that Jason was, but she also commanded the attention and respect. He was a newcomer to the place and he had done more than enough crazy stuff during his time in a gang; but he still struggled with openly challenging Jason and Cass. And Tim, but that was when the vigilante fell into his weird mumbling-in-the-dark episodes.

“I’m taking you there.”

He grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the garage section of the cave. Jazz yanked her arm free and stopped to cross her arms.

“I can walk on my own.”

Jason bristled, opened his mouth to continue their fight, but apparently that was when Alfred had enough.

“If you want to get there in time,” his voice was neutral, controlled, and his face wore his signature arched eyebrow, “I'd recommend leaving right now.”

His tone was final.

Jazz and Jason looked at each other, frozen under the certified Alfred glare. They nodded and walked quickly towards where Jason’s signature red bike was parked.

***

Arkham Asylum was a mess when the duo arrived — police cars flooded the entrance, and the Batmobile stood out like a sore thumb in the midst of all the red and blue lights flashing around.

Jazz cursed under her breath. She would have preferred to not turn the situation into a circus.

They managed to walk through the sea of cops and civilians looking in the compound from the metal gates. Funny enough, the few guards blocking the way didn’t move to stop them once both glared at them at the same time.

Jazz made a beeline at the Director chatting animatedly with Batman. Black Bat was standing a bit back with Red Robin, probably discussing what just happened with Danny, but the Arkham doctor didn’t care about them.

“I demand I see my patient.” Jazz didn’t beat around the bush.

The Director blinked and slowly looked away from Batman, as if he couldn’t believe someone had the audacity to interrupt this moment. “Miss Fenton—”

“Doctor.” She corrected him.

The man cleared his throat, throwing a nervous glance at the silent Dark Knight.

“Doctor Fenton,” the word was spit like it was a curse, “your shift doesn’t start until eight.”

“But the Joker is my patient and I know he’s in there.” She gestured at the looming Asylum with her hand. “After such a traumatic event I need to see him.”

Someone coughed a laugh behind the Director. At least the man had the decency of hiding a smile.

“The Joker is not going anywhere, Miss— Doctor.” He added when she glared at him. “You can schedule a session tomorrow. That is, if your patient is up for conversation.” With that, the man deemed their conversation over and turned back to Batman. “Once again, thank you so much, Batman. I’m not going to ask how you did it this time, but we will certainly appreciate the results.”

Jason was as happy as everyone else that Joker wouldn’t be a problem anymore, but the way this bastard was treating Jasmine was outright criminal. He squared up for a fight and tried to step forward, but a cold hand on his forearm stopped him. Jazz moved her eyebrows up and her eyes went over his body before she looked back towards the police. Several new vehicles joined the party — all the Gotham news channels were here to record the event.

And he wasn’t wearing his suit. Right.

He nodded and remained where he was, but made a gesture towards where the Director was waxing poetry about how good Batman was for their city and how much the city owed him.

Do you want me to beat him up for you? He wanted to ask.

Jazz chuckled, hiding her smile behind her hand. She shook her head and patted his arm a few times.

“Thanks,” she whispered, “but not today.”

He didn’t know how serious she was. This was the same person who pulled a gun at Red Hood and five seconds later forced him into a therapy session. The same lunatic that was excited about having the whole bat flock in her apartment so she could question them.

For the first time since the alarm sounded about Joker’s escape, Jason let himself relax a little bit. Jazz was crazy enough to take on Arkham’s finest and leave victorious.

“Director Kallwick,” her voice was pure steel, “I’m afraid it’s imperative I see my patient after such a traumatic—”

“I think there’s something you are not understanding, Miss Fenton.”

“And what is it?” She crossed her arms.

The Director raised an eyebrow, now fully facing her. It didn’t escape Jason how the man squared his shoulders to look bigger and overpower Jazz. He had seen that behavior way too many times, in many different situations — and he didn’t like it when men like the Director used it against people that couldn't fight back, specially women.

He glanced at Bruce, trying to gauge how much the old man would flip if he intervened anyway. He trusted Jazz, but he really didn’t like the Director right now.

“I’m positive that after today’s… development,” he smiled, “things at Arkham will definitely change. For the best, of course.” He raised an eyebrow. “Starting with streamlining our staff and making sure we count on experienced doctors to treat the patients that really need it.”

Was he implying…?

Jazz hummed, regarding the man with as much contempt as she allowed herself to show. “I know you don’t like me, Mr. Kallwick. You never did. I know you hired me because you needed cannon fodder to sacrifice and keep the Joker entertained.” She smiled. “I’m young, but I’m not stupid. And I know men like you — weak, scared, and cowardly.”

“Hey there young—”

“I know you’d rather let your staff die than develop better and healthier outlets for patient’s destructive tendencies.” She lifted a hand and walked closer, poking the man’s chest. “I know that you look the other way when guards and doctors mentally and physically abuse inmates because you actually think they deserve it.” She poked him again.

“I don’t—” He went to grab her hand.

She moved away from him so quickly and so smoothly that it looked like a dance step.

She smiled. It wasn’t nice. “And I know all about what you’ve been doing with the funds and donations.”

Even in the middle of the noise from the crowd at the gates, you could hear the man loudly swallow.

“I know about the embezzling and the bribes and the interesting filing mistakes and convenient registration mishaps, Mr. Kallwick.” Her eyes slowly turned greener. It was subtle, but you could see that her usual teal color suddenly looked greener than blue. A trick of the lights, you could think, but the bats knew better. “I know you don’t care how or why the Joker is unresponsive, but I do; and if you want me to stay in my lane I highly recommend you stay in yours.”

The man processed her words, the thoughts clear in his eyes. He was probably thinking how she could have found out, or who told her, or how was he going to silence her better.

Jason saw the switch to the later thought as clear as day.

Bruce saw it too.

Before the man said or did anything else, the tall and quiet shadow of Batman placed himself behind Jazz, one hand on her shoulder as an obvious sign of his support. The other two bats placed themselves on the sides of the Arkham doctor, arms crossed, looking down at the man who was realizing too late the mistake he made.

***

“Are you still mad?”

“Hm.”

“You sound like the old man.”

Jazz glared at him, violently stabbing her ice cream cup and breaking her plastic spoon.

“You may need to deal with those anger issues. Have you thought about going to therapy?” He said with a bright smile.

She stood up, not caring about attracting attention. Who was going to pay attention to them, Jason didn’t know. It was way early in the morning — or late at night, it depends on how you see it — and Jazz had demanded they go to the closest ice cream place that was open.

Luckily he knew a place, because of course only in Gotham someone would be crazy enough to have an ice cream shop open at this hour.

“Some vigilantes, and some rogues, really like ice cream. It is an untapped market.” The man running the place said when asked, shrugging like it was obvious.

Jazz sat back down, now with a new spoon, and continued eating her sweet monstrosity of layered chocolate and dulce de leche.

“If you are this mad I highly recommend you take it with Bruce. I’m sure he will be very understanding and accept your feedback.”

She kicked him in the shins, rolling her eyes at his sarcasm.

“Whatever you say, mister Daddy Issues.”

It was his turn to kick her, but she was expecting the movement and moved away before he made contact. She smirked, taking another bite of her ice cream with a smug smile on her face.

God, he hated older siblings and their knowing smiles.

He prepared to kick her again..

“Don’t even try,” a new voice said, the person taking the empty chair on their little table. “Jazz is like a ninja when she really wants to.”

Jason wanted to differ and explain he had trained with literal ninjas, but the speed at which she whipped a gun on him not that long ago came to his mind. Was it a liminal thing? Or a Jasmine thing? Maybe a Fenton thing?

“Hey.”

“Hey back at you.” Danny sighed, taking Jazz’s ice cream cup and biting directly from the top layer. “That bad, huh?”

Jason bit his simple chocolate cone, watching the siblings talk.

“She’s mad because B scary dog privileged his way into making the Arkham Director submit and it undermined Jazz’s authority. She did a neat speech and everything.” He shook his head. “All wasted.”

She huffed and stole her ice cream back. “I didn’t need his support.”

“I know you don’t.” Danny glanced at Jason. “But it’s better if you have Batman’s backup, yes?”

Jazz ignored him.

Jason took the chance to look at Danny, trying to find anything that was different about the young man. He still had the scene back with Joker burned in his mind.

King of the Ghosts.

He would have never guessed, given the scrawny and sleep deprived raccoon of a man sitting next to him. He was still wearing the same shirt and under the fluorescent lights of the ice cream shop, it was easier to see the scars on his arms and hands — and the ones peeking from under his collar.

“Spit it out.”

“Huh?”

Danny rolled his eyes. “You have questions. Ask.”

“I don’t—” He tried to deny it, but thought better about it. Jason bit his ice cream and cleared his throat. “I want to ask about —”

“Of course you want to ask about what happened.”

A soft thump! came from under the table, and given Danny’s glare at Jazz then she probably kicked him for the sass.

“What do you want to know?”

“Why are you being so forthcoming?”

“I’m feeling charitable today.” Another kick from under the table. “Ok, ok! No need for violence.” He sighed. “Jazz’s right. This is not my territory. If we want to stay, we have to play nice with you guys.”

The way he said it, and the way he made a face when he said it, told Jason that Danny was really struggling with trusting the bats with the information. Trust issues he could understand — one wasn’t in their line of work without being betrayed or hurt enough to warrant these issues.

No. It was something deeper.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

There were many questions burning in his mind and he didn’t know how long they had. “Why… Gotham? Why Arkham? Why a guard?”

“You just wasted your time man. You already know the answer for that.” He pointed at his sister, who nodded in agreement. “I followed her.”

“And I came here because I was interested in the rogues.” She added, licking her spoon clean.

Jason shook his head. “I meant — why is the King of the Ghosts… just… here?” He lowered his voice, glancing at the ice cream man. The man was half asleep on the counter and clearly not listening. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

Danny responded with a dry laugh. “I have no interest in being the king of anything.”

“But?”

He looked away, suddenly very uncomfortable.

Jason glanced at Jazz, but she was glaring at the table.

“What happened?” He poked the siblings, trying to be soft. It was obviously a touchy subject, and whatever happened was painful enough that they’ve been avoiding any mention of their past before Gotham like the plague.

“It was… It happened a few years ago. I defeated the previous Ghost King, but nothing happened for a while. I thought… I thought things had calmed down since ghosts stopped attacking my town so often. And then, after I graduated highschool, the Observants started harassing me about taking the throne.”

“Did they hurt you?” Jason didn’t know what these “Observants” were, but he could guess from context.

Danny shook his head, stealing Jazz’s ice cream again. “They were fucking annoying, but they couldn’t touch me. As the Prince, I was technically their superior and untouchable.” He bit the cold treat and chewed. Somehow Jason wasn’t surprised Danny never got a brain freeze. “It was a few more years of avoiding them and trying to keep peace in town, as well as trying to get to know the Infinite Realms.” He chuckled again. “I even considered, for a moment, that being King wasn’t even that bad.

“It was a pretty normal day when it happened. I went to the mall with my friends. Sam, she — She had a fight with her parents and went there to cool down and cheer her up. The ghosts came first,” he pushed the ice cream back to his sister, and avoided Jason’s eyes, “but nothing was out of the ordinary. We fought. I defeated them. More and more kept coming, faster than I — than we could contain them.”

“I was away at college, but I later learned that it was a massive all out attack on just Danny.” Jazz placed a hand on Danny’s. “It was a coup attempt.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know that so many people were against me being King, and all that time they were planning the attack, and if I just paid a little more attention… If I wasn’t so—”

Another kick under the table. Danny cleared his throat and tried again.

“The GIW came as well. Things went from bad to worse, and by the end of the day it was an all out war between us, the ghosts doing a coup and the GIW. With our parents at the head of the attack.”

Jason frowned. “But you guys knew they worked with the GIW.”

Jazz gave him a warning look. “We knew they collaborated and consulted for them. We knew about the patent weapons.”

“But we didn’t know that they’d lead an attack on me.”

Danny did a brief pause to breathe, and stole more ice cream from his sister. She just pushed the cup towards him, apparently done with the treat.

Jason followed where the siblings were going. “They knew you’d be at the mall. That… That Phantom would be at the mall.” Danny looked up, his tired eyes confirming his thoughts. “They knew.”

It wasn’t a question.

Jazz nodded anyway. “We don’t know how long they did, but the truth is they knew about Danny. And went for him anyway.”

Minutes ticked by. Jason and Danny made quick work of their ice creams, lost in thought. Jazz checked her phone, frowned, and typed a few messages before putting it away.

“People died.”

Jason blinked at the non sequitur. Danny swallowed the last of the ice cream and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“Neighbors, friends, people I knew. That day. They were fine and then they were dead.”

Guilt. It was clear as day.

“Is not your—”

“Don’t.” He cut him off. “Please.”

Jason nodded and decided to move on. “So you won the fight?”

“Barely. The ghosts were either captured by the GIW or retreated when they became outnumbered. Tucker and Sam managed to mess up with the idiots in white’s machines and weapons long enough for us to retreat. But we knew that wasn’t the end of it.

“We packed what we could and I hid at Sam’s, with the excuse that I would help her while she recovered — she broke her arm at the fight. We were a hundred percent sure if… if Jack and Maddie actually knew I was Phantom or not, but just in case.”

“I stayed. They didn’t target me so we were positive they didn’t know about me being liminal, so I stayed home.”

The vigilante frowned at Jazz. “What for?”

“Someone had to monitor them to see what they knew exactly. I also hid away any weapon they could potentially use against Danny.” She shrugged. “Not that it actually helped, because neither came back home in the weeks after the incident.”

“They were at the GIW base.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned back on his seat. The young man looked tired. “Because of course there was work to do with the captured ghosts.”

Jason hummed. “So they’ve been working on experimentation since then?”

Jazz shook her head. “We were telling the truth when we said they weren’t involved in that, at least not by the time we left Amity Park. Back then they were more involved in investigation on ghost containment and weapons research.”

He nodded, and turned back to Danny. “And the coup?”

The young man cursed under his breath. “Dealt with them.”

Jason waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again. “What—”

“Listen, man.” He slapped the table and stood up. “That doesn’t matter. They don’t matter. I dealt with it. I accepted the damn crown and then told everybody to fuck off. And they have done that so far.” He breathed in, breathed out. “I’m nobody’s king, I’m just a simple guard now, okay? Nothing more, nothing less.”

With that, Danny walked away and left Jazz and Jason simmer in the tense silence. He looked at her, trying to gauge if he had said the wrong thing, but Jazz appeared apologetic.

“Before you ask — I don’t know either. Nobody does. He just… after we took down the GIW base, he took the captured ghosts back to the Realms. He came back two days later, hurt and barely coherent, and never spoke of what happened there. To anybody.” Not even me, the hurt statement was implied. “He was… changed. He didn’t say what happened but from what we could piece together it was bad, very bad.”

A myriad of possibilities crossed Jason’s mind. How bad is “very bad”? How much did Danny stir things up at the Realms that he had remained unbothered ever since? He tried to map the scars that he saw, and grimaced at the idea of two straight days of fighting after doing a raid to the GIW base.

Danny was done. With being a hero. With fighting. With trying to do the right thing.

What was even the “right thing” here? Going back to being the King of a dimension that doesn’t want him and he doesn’t want in return? Give it up, and risk someone worse taking control of so much power? Destroying the GIW? Going after their own parents?

He thought about the Joker. He asked Jazz when she was back from checking on the clown, and she willingly shared some details about his state. Jason never felt sorry for the fucker, but gained a new appreciation for Danny and his abilities.

The power to take someone’s soul and seal it inside their bodies — what else could he do? What other otherworldly and potentially devastating powers did he have at his disposal?

What else was he choosing not to face? What else was he running away from?

He stood up and followed Danny outside, finding him standing in the cold morning rain of Gotham. It wasn’t pouring, but it was easy to get soaking wet if you underestimated it.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.”

Both ignored the door when Jazz quietly followed them out of the ice cream shop.

“Good.” The younger man looked up at the gray sky, maybe looking for the sun. Water droplets fell down his face, and he welcomed them with a relieved, albeit tiny, smile. “Because I don’t have anything else to say.”

Jason rolled his eyes. What a drama queen.

He glanced at Jazz, who was shaking her head. “Whatever you say, edgelord.”

She pulled Danny to her chest for a hug, which he only protested with a tiny grumble. Jason chuckled before he was pulled in too by a surprisingly strong grip.

“If I have to suffer sisterly hugs then so do you.”

Jazz giggled but welcomed the addition to her arms, not caring that she could barely hold both of them and her arms fell short. She squeezed them harder towards her chest, humming in delight.

Great, she was a hugger. Jason really didn’t need another Grayson in his life.

<< Prequel - Clown around and find out | First Part

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[aeriona]

HI HELLO! Welcome to my completely unnecessarily detailed analysis on how I think Inkfish languages could work! + with art! yay! This is all pretty rough and not fully fleshed out (I don't have the time or patience for that lmao). THIS IS A LONG POST.

Okay, so there's dozens of languages spoken by cephalopods in the Mollusc Era but the main two I'll talk about are Inkling (or Inklish) and Octarian, spoken mostly by Inklings and Octolings respectively. 

In cephalopods, speech is formed using the syrinx and larynx, two fancy vocal organs that most other species don't have together. The larynx makes sounds using the radula (tongue) and vocal folds in the throat, it's clear and pretty easy to understand as the sound itself resembles human speech, albeit warbled. The syrinx makes noise by vibrating air at the base of the trachea, it's often trickier to follow as it can sound more like droning background noise than words sometimes.

An inkfish can use both of them at once, resulting in an EXTREMELY complicated language system where words can be made up of multiple layered syllables, and several words and sentences can even be said at the same time.

As you can probably imagine, all of this is LITERAL HELL to learn for species who don’t have both a syrinx and a larynx (so basically anyone who isn't a cephalopod). But fear not! There are many simple and more inclusive alternatives, dialects and other cool stuff like sign language and instant TTS technology for people who physically can't pronounce Inkling/Octarian or even vocalise at all (eg. jellyfish).

Both main Inkfish languages can be broken down into laryngeal words (made with the larynx), syringeal/drone words (made with the syrinx) or a combination of both, called dual-toned/layered words.

Keep in mind that both word-types can be spoken at the same time. Layering can be used to add additional connotations to a word, or to even make a new one entirely. For example, the laryngeal noun ‘bird’ combined with the syringeal noun ‘metal’ spoken together will create the layered Inkling word ‘aeroplane’, like a compound word in English.

Dual-toned stuff is more common in Inkling than in Octarian, as the language is older and has more loanwords. Inklish's dependence on the larynx gives it a higher-pitched, clearer sound whereas  Octarian's more monotone syrinx-based structure results in a deep, almost guttural sound.

Both cephalopod languages are heavy on tone and pronunciation, resulting in a plenty of accent indicators in written scripts. I used the in-game fonts for the art but if I were to rework it, each letter would probably be more complicated than traditional Mandarin on steroids. So hell on earth, basically.

On a side note, all of these language features open possibilities for some very cool poetry and literature. An inkfish author could write a poem with two lines of thought occurring at once, or a book with vivid emotional undertones written inside the prose. Pretty cool.

OKAY that's all I have to say thank you for reading! Hopefully this makes sense, feel free to send asks or whatever if it's confusing and I'll do my best to explain it better!

[the-s1lly-corner]

HI there, hate to bother you but i was wondering if you could do the amazing digital circus head canons for a gn! reader who acts a lot like ena

if you have never heard of it you can check on the ena wiki but i would really love if you did something like this so thanks

TADC x ENA type!GN!reader

typically i would do all the characters in one post, but its starting to get late and tumblr wont let me save half answered asks in my drafts for some reason TToTT so im gonna split the cast in half, if you want the rest of the characters you can send in a second ask so i can remember to do everyone else :0! also my apolocheese for any personality mistakes, i think i watched ena a long time ago but was confused/didnt watch the whole thing so uh uh!! relying on a character wiki for this (on that focuses on season 1 so uh uh, idk if that will impact anything) little bonus bonus incorporating enas color thing into this cuz uh we can say its digital world stuff ooo that gives me an oc idea; oc whos like the mayor from nightmare before christmas who has a spinny head/face thing that relates to their emotions

CAINE:

caines is going to be shorter because hes just your number one fan regardless of your personality, in fact he probably has a silly shirt with your face on it somewhere

will do everything in his power to make sure youre happy and content, and will do everything to cheer you up when you switch over to your sad side

takes you to wherever it is that he 'sleeps' when you get overwhelmed by stuff and keeps you there until both of you are sure that youll be okay and your blues are long gone

you and him easily match energies, sometimes he will even try to one up you with using fancy intricate words

POMNI:

writing pomnis part first but oh funny is it that pomni and ena have the same VA

anyways

absolutely loves you, but she is so so worried about stressing you out and switching to your 'sad form', tries to (often times unsuccessfully) cheer you up

honestly you both need a break, things in the circus are hectic and insane, and considering pomni just got here she is going to need your help to get used to things

not much to be said since i think pomni is another character i struggle to write

JAX:

initially teases you for how fast you switch up, its almost like gangle being more upbeat with her comedy mask and more sad when its broken

tones it down a little when you explain you cant really control it whereas gangles case is just her being more confident with the comedy mask (at least thats my hc)

sometimes give you weird looks when you use an unnecessarily long set of fancy words to describe something mundane

bro is fighting the urge to mimic it

surprisingly does the kind thing, he takes you off to the side when something stresses you out so you can have a minute to compose yourself

RAGATHA:

optimistic sweetheart meets ray of sunshine, you two are an unstoppable force of good and kind of rub off on some of the others

similar to jax when you get stressed out or upset about something, usually when its an in house adventure, she sweeps you to the side and helps calm you down. she probably knows some breathing techniques, i think

ignoring the fact they probably dont need to breathe but thats asides the poin

[beautifulpersonpeach]

Lol.

This will be short. I’ll go on a little tangent but I’ll tie this back to Jungkook and BTS at the end.

You know, I was mostly ambivalent about the feud between HYBE and Min Heejin until I heard her call Bang Sihyuk and his sycophants “bastards” for ‘overpaying for garbage and forcing everyone to eat it because they think the price makes the music good.’ - I’m paraphrasing a bit because her language was more crude. That made me sit up a bit, because her sentiments mirrored my thoughts about the direction Bang Sihyuk has been taking the company in for some time now.

Another random connection is that, to me at least, it seems clear BigHit is still trying to make the HYBE America investment worth it, given:

1. The unnecessarily long credit lists filled with Scooter-linked writers that appear to have become a fixture of most HYBE releases. Bang PD is clearly taking advantage of Scooter’s connections although it’s yet to yield any significant improvement in music quality, and in terms of chart performance the results are mixed at best;

2. The fact that in addition to HYBE paying US$1.05 Billion in cash for Scooter’s company, essentially overpaying for Ithaca Holdings by consensus estimates (a deal Min Heejin also openly criticized as being hare-brained), HYBE America still generated hundreds of millions of dollars in losses as of the last fiscal year, two years after the acquisition was finalized.

But this is old news, we all knew that.

The thing about Min Heejin’s comments that concerned me is that, despite what is now clearly an underperforming investment both in terms of Scooter Braun himself and the man at HYBE that arranged the deal in the first place, Lee Jae-sang, rather than work to correct course and minimize losses, Bang Sihyuk appears to be doubling down on the deal by rewarding these two men in particular with more music and business opportunities within HYBE, even if the music quality suffers as a result, even if HYBE continues overpaying for shit, and even if the artists/idols are negatively impacted in the process. And according to Min Heejin, one big reason Bang Sihyuk allows it is because those men are adept at greasing his arse and eating it out.

Basically, it’s become an expensive joke. But he’s brute forcing the deal to work because so long as BTS is involved and so ARMYs are involved, it’s a joke that Bang PD is guaranteed to take laughing all the way to the bank.

This is where I say I realized shortly after Jungkook’s fan song for Festa was announced, that I wasn’t excited to hear it. I’m saying this only because now that the song is out, it’s confirmed everything I expected. And also because that apathetic feeling was so at odds with how I’ve been feeling about Jungkook as a person for the last year. If it’s not been clear from my reblogs and gush posts, I’ve been spending the better part of this hiatus loving Jungkook extremely. Jungkook is an empathetic songwriter, an emotive vocalist, a talented producer.

But nothing about Never Let Go is exciting. Who wants to listen to a fan song written by people who’ve never had fans? And on top of that, Jungkook is making less money from that song than any fan song he’s written before. Meaning, the song is mediocre, it feels blatantly insincere in ways only a crowdsourced fan song can be, and Jungkook has to split his revenue from the song with about 10 white people. Just look at this.

I’m actually laughing typing this out, but this turn of events is at least a little tragic.

Golden worked as a concept album because it was a collection of songs Jungkook felt represented his taste, he could take on the challenge of putting out a full English album with some help from the writers, and he showcased new vocal techniques and styles that only showed an evolution from his prior work in BTS. The songs themselves were just okay, good decent pop, but as a collection it worked.

Everything about Never Let Go feels almost audaciously soulless. Not quite a slap on the face but it’s like someone coming all up in your face with a bad case of halitosis and their nose barely touching yours, daring you to do something about it.

I have no issue with HYBE working with Scooter-linked writers or producers if it means something actually good comes of it. But it seems HYBE seems to believe their work is better simply because they slap on as many foreign names in the credits as they can fit. It betrays a worrying mentality about the head honchos in the company. Looking at the peak quality in FACE by Jimin, or in Right Place, Wrong Person by RM, which included acclaimed Korean, other Asian, and Black talent supposedly hand-picked by Jimin and Joon themselves, it’s clear HYBE has access to remarkable home-grown and foreign talent that could improve the work of the members. But what I’m seeing with too much frequency is HYBE picking off the bottom of the barrel in the unending list of Scooter’s contractors and otherwise choosing to do the bare minimum.

And that’s how we end up with a Festa fan song with a topline that sounds like an AI-generated jingle written by a soccer team of hired help.

Or idk, maybe I’m being just a bit too full of it. Maybe I’ve been brainwashed by the witch Min Heejin, maybe this was just one more song Jungkook worked on with his Golden team as he had no time to write a proper fan song, nothing more. And maybe as a silver lining, there are no glaring grammatical errors though I found the ones in My You very charming, and honestly part of the appeal. To hear the way Jungkook sees the fans who have been with him till now, even if in English it didn’t quite make sense.

I said this would be short but I’ve rambled, as usual. Sorry for that. When I started out writing this post, I did intend to keep it short.

To end things on a somewhat lighter note, for me the only thing I’m excited about this Festa, is SeokJin coming back. I’ll be working on a deal during the fanmeet so I didn’t bother participating in the raffle, but I’m happy for the ARMYs who get the opportunity to hug Jin, and for Jin who gets to spend time with his fans after so long. With him returning, things are starting to feel more right, even though there are worrying signs in high places. We’ve got about 1 year left to endure most of the members enlisted and then, the crew will be rounded up again.

Now more than ever, I find myself looking forward to that.

[mongrel-mage]

A Spoiler-free review of Edge of Sleep

Fucking incredible. Like...9/10 and the only reason I say so is because there were only 6 20-ish minute episodes and I wanted the show to be longer and give us more backstory on the characters and such. It'll be a bit longer of a post, but rest assured that there are no spoilers under the link.

Main differences from the podcast, but still minor: the character of The Trespasser does not feature in the show, nor do Dave's story about the Moobles and the ensuing hallucinations he describes. However, I was satisfied with how they used the information from The Trespasser's subplot in the actual TV show, and there was a little reference to him at the beginning of Episode 5 that made me smile, so I'm really not that fussed about those things being missing.

I'm going to take a minute to rave about Eve Harlow, who plays Linda. What a goddamn POWERHOUSE of an actress, honestly. Perfect casting. She nailed a character who is tough as iron, focused, determined, and intelligent without making Linda come across as unnecessarily cold or unlikeable--I'll go so far to say that Linda was my favorite character (by a slim margin, but still there). Eve Harlow has an incredibly expressive face and eyes that convey complex emotions without relying on the same few expressions or overacting what she's feeling. I really want to see her get some sort of awards or accolades for her performance because she carried damn near all of her scenes.

Let's talk about Mark. I already knew that he could act well because I'd watched his other projects, but most/if not all of them have at least some level of comedy, humor, or character who lightens the mental load at least a little bit. We all know that he's a giggly bitch and likes to have fun, and there's nothing wrong with that. That said, I'm comfortable saying that Edge of Sleep is easily his most ambitiously dramatic project--there was a lot of raw stress, grief, anger, and pain that Dave Torres went through, and I was impressed at how well Mark portrayed it. It's obvious how much he tries and how hard he cares; it's so clear that this wasn't some celebrity vanity project. You can really feel the love and the energy and the care that he put into this, and I was, like I said, impressed at his range as a drama/horror actor. There were some moments and expressions he had in the show (namely in the first episode, when the people at the party are giving Dave a hard time about his sleep disorder and past episodes) that hit me unexpectedly hard. Amazing performance, Mark. I'm proud of you.

I also want to take another moment to rave about the makeup and hair department. Standing ovation. The gradual increase of the characters' exhaustion and general levels of dishevelment (the thing that stuck with me the most was Linda's makeup and hair, SO good) looked very real and read well on camera. Anyone who knows me irl knows what a freak I am for good practical effects/makeup, and I want to make sure that those artists are acknowledged and appreciated. I'm also going to throw in some kudos for whoever was behind the Elephant Monster--that thing was FUCKED UP (/pos). I love a Creature and it was sufficiently more disturbing than I had expected it to be, since The Elephant isn't given much of a description in the podcast. I'm not sure if it was practical effects or something computer generated, but whatever it was it was amazing. Hats off to the Creature Crew!

Lastly: I WANT SEASON TWO. GIVE IT TO ME. I WANT TO RIP IT APART WITH MY TEETH. I HAVE BEEN GOOD AND COHERENT FOR THIS LONG NOW GIVE ME MORE.

Also. I promised no spoilers and there shall be none. But that last shot of the last episode? fucking HAUNTING. Here's hoping that us catapulting Edge of Sleep to the TOP FIVE, BEFORE THE OFFICIAL LAUNCH, will seriously throw some weight to whoever can decide to give us a second season.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Oh my God… as soon as I read your post I had a thought… Probably unnecessarily cruel… What if the Children of Oda (46) and Ai (7) end up in Tayvat with the reader… This would make things more difficult for the poor reader. Because In addition to trying to survive, there is also the need to take care of children… And absolutely ordinary children without abilities. And the rest will panic greatly. Especially if the reader herself is a child or a teenager, although the plus is that the reader looks like just a young creator, if this seems too cruel and/or difficult, you can ignore or change my request, thank you very much for your attention, good luck!!!

If you were not alone

Part I

_____

Self-Aware! BSD AU x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Characters:

Self-Aware! Platonic! Aya Koda, Self-Aware! Platonic! Katsumi, Self-Aware! Platonic! Shinji, Self-Aware! Platonic! Kousuke, Self-Aware! Platonic! Sakura, Self-Aware! Platonic! Yuu

Reader: Teen! GN! Reader

Warning: English is my second language

👧🏻 🚸 At first, the situation didn't look too bad. Yes, all of you woke up in the wilderness, and you have no idea, how you get here, or how to return home, but, none of you were injured, and hilichurls looked surprisingly friendly and didn't try to attack you.

However, the emotions in the group weren't even slightly positive.

You were hugging crying Sakura and Shinji. The girl buried her face in your chest, and the boy was clinging to your side. 

Katsumi, Kousuke and Yuu were trying to keep themselves together, trying to act as big boys. But you can see tears in their eyes. Soon, they joined the group hug.

Aya was silent. She was a little bit tougher, then Oda's kids. You will be tough, if your adopted father is Vampire Count Bram Stoker. 

But she also was hugging you. Because now, she was a child. Not a Defender of Justice.

You were whispering reassuring words, promising, that all of you will be safe.

You want to believe that.

When you were more or less calmed down, your small group start moving to the nearest city.

Aya, Katsumi, Kousuke and Yuu were walking before you. You were holding Shinji's and Sakura's hands. You were making sure, that no one will get lost.

As the oldest in this group, you must take care of them.

 👧🏻🚸 Mondstadt was strange. From the game, you got an impression, that Mondstadt were a friendly city. So why... Why everyone were glaring at you?

 The answer came in a form of a statue. A statue made of gold. A statue of an adult version of you, made of gold.

 The statue was terrifying. It wasn't too big. It wasn't scary. But sometimes felt wrong. Something in every little bit of the statue made you feel frozen with fear and disgust.

 And, it seems, that your companions got the same feelings as you.

 You felt glares on you. Mondstadt was quiet. Waiting for something.

 The silence were overwhelming.

Yuu's voice could be mistaken for screams in this silence.

 "[Y/N], don't worry, this monster may look like you, but you will be looked much better, when you grew up."

 And the first of many "Imposter! Dirty Sinner!" came.

 🚸👧🏻 Your lungs were still burning. Sakura and Shinji were holding to you for dear life. All of you were chased away from Mondstadt. But, you were sure, that the people of Mondstadt weren't satisfied with simply chasing you away. No. The anger in their eyes. They wanted blood. Your blood.

 It was a miracle, that you survived. And the miracle had a name.

 Klee managed to hide you all away and get you to the Dragonspine. Right now, you, Oda's kids and Aya were resting in Albedo's lab.

While Klee tried to cheered kids even for a bit, you were talking with Albedo.

🚸👧🏻 The situation were terrible. You and kids are now wanted criminals, you can't trust anyone from Teyvat. Your only chance to get home - meet with Alice. The bad news is that she is forced to travel from nation to nation, not staying on one place for too long. There would be a big chance, that you would miss her.

And you must protect six kids.

You stayed with Albedo for a week. You discussed everything you need to know.

You decide to travel to Sumeru. If Albedo wasn't mistaken, Nahida would help you. Maybe, Irmensul have answers and knowledge on how to get you all home. At least, you could hide you, until Alice arrived.

Albedo gave you clothes, backpacks, supplies, blankets and much more. Everything you need during your journeys. It won't be enough for the whole journey. But, at least for the next few days, you won't worry about food and water.

And he showed you something. Something, that took all members of Hexenzirkel to use their powers to get and stay safe. Something, they stole from "Creator". What was left of a previous person, who looked slightly similar to "Creator".

"I don't want to scare you, [Y/N]. I just want you to see, what would happen, if one day they caught you. Or you decide to go to them on your own free will." Albedo looked sad. He can't go with you. He must protect Sucrose and Klee.

You nodded solemnly. You will try to stay safe.

To keep others safe.

🚸👧🏻 During your journey, you were careful. Refusing to go near people. During your journey, you start stealing. You can't let kids become hungry. You did everything a teen can do to keep children safe. While situation never called for that (you always manage to ran away) you knew, that you will fight for their lives.

When people from other nations came to Sumeru, trying to find you, you and kids were hiding.

But you were fond.

According to Lore, Capitano was a noble warrior 

In Teyvat, only your hold was stopping him from striking Aya.

You were angry. You wanted to protest kids.

Your emotions reached their peak. 

What left of First Creator's powers obeyed your silent wish.

The portal opened under your feet.

______

🐾 In Real World, BSD Cast were restless. Six kids and one kid disappeared without a trace! There is no way for them to stay calm.

Especially for two of them.

🦇 Bram Stoker lost two kids.

🍛Oda Sakunosuke lost six kids.

🍛🦇 Oda and Bram are looking everywhere. Criminal underworld lost huge number of criminals because of that. Ida and Bram going after any possible suspect.

🍛🦇 And when, after weeks of being missing, you seven finally returned, and this giant warrior were trying to kill you, their anger gets out of control.

_______

👧🏻🚸🍛🦇 For the next few weeks, seven of you won't be left alone. Oda and Bram will constantly stay close to you.

👧🏻🚸🍛🦇 No one would ever hurt you. You will never be scared, cold or hungry again. You won't need to steal to get food for Aya and Oda's kids. You don't need to fight for their lives.

👧🏻🚸🍛🦇 Journey to Teyvat was stressful. Thankfully, it was over.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

[royboyfanpage]

Okay a post by @mew-poo got me thinking about Titans (1999) #15-#16 again, and I think I noticed something. This may be absolute bs, I haven't slept in two days so I might be doing analysis that doesn't exist, but-

I think Roy is the only one of the fab five who doesn't hold grudges.

Essentially the comics, particularly #15, focus on the fab five being stranded on an island with Gargoyle, who is bringing their personal resentments and grudges to light, causing a lot of tensions between the team. But one thing I've noticed is that the different arguments Roy makes are rarely centred around anything that happened between him and the others off the island. The main issues for him are-

-the current situation, or-

-regarding Lian. Comparatively, the things that the others say to him, such as Garth bringing up his addiction arguably unnecessarily-

-Donna suggesting that Roy's stupid for thinking their relationship will last (and later insulting him for leaving after she said that)-

-and Dick questioning his commitment to the Titans (which I won't post a panel of due to Tumblr photo limit, so imagine it's here), it's clear to see a difference. Despite being on an island intended to highten negative emotions, Roy never actually brings up anything anyone's done in the past (at least not yet) unless he's actively prompted to by someone else, like his defending himself from Dick's criticism-

-and the only time he really brings anything up without a prompt (prior to the end) is STILL in reference to something that was said to him on the island as opposed to years ago.

I think that makes a lot of sense for Roy as a character. He's a very practical man, and so it makes sense that he wouldn't dwell on old grudges compared to current issues he's faced with. It could also, at least partially, explain why it takes Roy so long to recognise that Garth is mad at his teasing. Roy reacts strongly in the moment to issues in his life and relationships rather than letting them brew (at least this era of Roy does, his reactions were different in the Snowbirds era), which may make it harder for him to see that someone *is* harbouring a grudge against him that they haven't acted on- that's just not how his brain works.

And then, there's the moment where Roy does snap.

I don't think that Roy's dialogue here stems from a grudge, and it's not based in negativity. As mentioned earlier in the comic, Gargoyle thrives on negativity, that was what was keeping them in purgatory. However, Roy's rant and punch was what managed to free them. It's not based in bitterness but rather... I guess violently constructive criticism? Roy doesn't like seeing Dick stuck in Bruce's shadow, and his tirade is based in concern for Dick more than anything, a wake-up call. And anything similar to bitterness in this is rather based on the double standards towards Dick- everyone has to walk on eggshells around Dick's issues, whereas Roy's issues are constantly brought up (Roy's addiction is mentioned in almost every comic with him I've read). He's angry that his friends will step in and give *him* a wakeup call, but they let Dick spiral without stepping in.

Anyway I'm very tired and forgot my point halfway through writing this, so do with this as you will and reinterpretations are more than welcome.

[justporo]

Healing Hands

Halsin was injured in a fight and the one responsible for that is Astarion who now - against his own volition - feels like he needs to do something to help the other. Being alone with the gentle druid brings up more unexpected feelings though and it might not only be Halsin's wound that is being tended to.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This was written as a secret santa gift! My gift recipient was very okay with it being posted so y'all are being treated as well. This was also like... my first time writing full-on M/M smut (so please be gentle? As gentle as Halsin if you can...). So, have another instance of porn with feelings...

Pairing: Astarion/Halsin Warnings: Explicit sexual content (anal, fingering, handjob) Wordcount: 6,3k ~~~

“It's nothing.”

“It's obviously not nothing, otherwise you wouldn't have sounded like a dying boar each time you took another step all the way back to camp”, Astarion spat at Halsin who was currently leaning against a tall boulder next to his tent to steady himself. The druid was partially doubled over in pain from an injury - but still towering over the vampire.

Astarion immediately regretted the words as soon as they had left his tongue.

Yes, he was mad at this oaf of a druid for playing down his injuries - simply because it was idiotic and an unnecessarily heroic thing to do. But mostly the vampire felt guilty - a sentiment he'd become used to just suppress to not let himself get dragged under completely. But alas, that coping mechanism didn't seem to work this time.

So here Astarion was, wallowing in the shame of being the one responsible for the wood elf’s wounds. It ate him up from the inside - and he hated it.

And the vampire might've been even more shaken had he admitted to himself that the guilt and the anger were generously laced with genuine worry about the druid. But he surely wasn’t ready for that confession yet.

Halsin looked at the pale elf who was standing before him with his arms crossed over his chest and who looked only one more moment away from angrily throwing his hands in the air. But he also saw that tinge of worry and shame in the vampire's crimson eyes.

A warmth filled the druid’s chest realising what the vampire might not yet fully let himself understand. Maybe with some time though, the druid thought to himself, Astarion would realise what had made him come over here instead of just turning away in indifference.

“I’ll have you know that that's not at all what a dying boar sounds like”, Halsin replied softly with a lopsided smile while trying to stand up tall again. Astarion huffed.

Halsin knew he was pushing it when he answered like that. But then again it seemed like playful, if not even sometimes outright mean, banter was a much easier way for the pale elf to work through his emotions than addressing them straight on.

“Well, so I guess you simply sounded like a dying druid then”, the vampire spat back and then - with arms still crossed over his chest - made to turn and walk away. “Maybe I should have just left you alone in your final moments, let you suffer alone, since you’re so keen on becoming a martyr.”

The words were pure venom.

Halsin didn’t mind. He saw directly through the hurtful words and knew of the pain beneath that caused them. And he also knew that this was merely a coping strategy for the vampire who hadn’t even been allowed to care for someone - not even himself - for such a long time.

The druid could have left it at that, letting the other man walk away. Maybe to bring it up again later, to give the younger elf some more time to process his own feelings.

But if Halsin was honest with himself he was quite desperate for some company too, some genuine connection - it had been so long since someone had taken care of him for once. Centuries of always getting back up again on your own made you strong if not stern for sure. But it also made you lonely quite often.

So the big man took a quick step to reach for Astarion before he was out of reach and grabbed his shoulder - softly but with determination. The quick movement caused another strained groan and a wince but he didn’t falter.

“Please, Astarion”, Halsin said in a deep tone, trying to filter the struggle out of his voice. Astarion halted immediately although he only turned to the other man reluctantly. Still he was barely able to hide that he’d been eager to be interrupted from leaving.

But the gaze in his crimson eyes was still cautious, closed off. It was almost as if the vampire was a wild animal - if not approached quite right he could still quickly be driven away. And then one couldn’t be sure if he would ever come this close again.

But thankfully sidling up and taking care of scared animals was kind of Halsin’s specialty. If he’d mastered getting along with hurt beasts and proud predators surely he’d be able to find the right words to make the vampire feel at ease and let down his guard - even if only for a tiny bit. Then the druid would take it from there.

“I appreciate your concern, more than I maybe let on at first and I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to mock you”, the druid declared and softly squeezed the vampire’s shoulders while with an open smile he tried to convey his genuine conviction.

“I’m not conc-”, the pale elf began to spit but the warmth and open vulnerability on Halsin’s face made him shut up again quickly. It wasn’t entirely clear though if it was mainly because he’d realised the lie he had been about to utter or if he simply wasn’t able to deal with the tall elf’s strategy of gently deescalating.

Slowly, Astarion let himself be nudged to turn around, so Halsin quickly continued: “If you’d be so kind I could use some help cleaning and dressing the wound - it’s easier with a second pair of hands. And probably even more if it’s yours.” The druid realised his mistake in wording as soon as the sentence had left his tongue. Immediately, the vampire’s cocky confidence was back.

“Oh, is that so?”, Astarion replied as his signature smirk was now spreading over his face. The vampire turned around fully again and lifted one of his eyebrows. The former anger and pettiness was seemingly forgotten as soon as he had seen an opening for sultry jokes - how typical.

“So what you’re saying is, you want my hands on you, Halsin Silverbough, did I catch that correctly?”, Astarion asked and sauntered around the druid a bit who followed him with his eyes. His arms were still crossed over his chest but he was leaning towards Halsin now, a smug grin still on his face.

Halsin meanwhile had released the vampire’s shoulder and seemed even a bit flustered by the sudden change in tone and mood. He’d known Astarion could be whimsical but the way the vampire could almost turn anything into lewd commentary was astounding even to him.

“I mean, if you wouldn’t mind - I could use some help with-,” Halsin began.

“Alright,” Astarion immediately interrupted him with a dramatic sigh and roll of his red eyes “I’ll do it. But only because - what would you even have done if I hadn’t come over here by accident.” The vampire clicked his tongue while Halsin couldn’t stop a knowing grin creeping onto his lips. How Astarion twisted and turned everything into a joke so as to not be seen as actually caring would have been amusing if the reasons for it hadn’t been so sad.

But for now Halsin simply accepted his deflections and just felt joyous that he had succeeded in drawing the rogue back in. The time to talk about coping mechanisms was very much a discussion for another night. And if Halsin was honest with himself he felt the pain from the wound a lot more the longer he waited to get to it. And he didn’t want it to become an actual problem.

The druid said nothing more and simply turned around to open up the flap to his tent with another wince and ducked inside. He felt Astarion following closely behind.

Inside was just about enough space for the two men to stand. The closeness with which both of them were suddenly confronted immediately set another mood again. And when Halsin went to light the lantern the mood was certainly only intensifying when dim orange light filled the small space.

The druid started to rumble through his supplies while trying to both ignore the growing pain and the knowledge that he probably never had been this private with the vampire before.

He liked Astarion quite a fair amount. Despite the younger elf being quite ghastly at times and his unsated need for violence Halsin had immediately felt drawn to him. Maybe he’d felt from the beginning that some of the lashing out lay deeply rooted in pain and suffering that no creature should ever have to endure. Even before he had learnt bits and pieces of Astarion’s past, had Halsin felt the need to ease his agony. To hold him until the tension released - or maybe even was replaced with another kind of tension altogether.

The tall elf was reminded of these thoughts as he kept going through his stuff - maybe taking a bit longer than unnecessary in an attempt to calm himself from emotions welling up inside him.

Meanwhile, the other elf suspiciously cleared his throat while he looked around the druid’s tent and definitely not at the other man’s backside. Whatever it was he thought and felt about Halsin, it seemed complicated if not completely opposite to the druid’s notions. Not that he had willingly admitted any of this.

Small pots and bottles clanking and clattering were the only sounds for long awkward moments until Halsin finally found the salve and some bandages that he’d been looking for. He put them down somewhere beside him. Then he turned around to face Astarion again who still had his arms crossed over his chest. This time it seemed defensive - or maybe it was just a way to keep his hands occupied since he had no better idea what to do with them. The druid would give them something better to do soon though.

“I have an ointment that will take care of the wound and help the healing process. I’ll have to clean the injury first though, maybe you could see if we still have some spirit around among the camp supplies?”, the wood elf proposed to Astarion who immediately nodded and went off without another word. Uncommon for him, but judging by how Halsin himself was missing some of his usual self-confidence in this unusual situation, he couldn’t judge him.

When the vampire returned, a bottle of strong alcohol in hand, the wood elf was currently trying to get his armour off - and failing miserably. The still growing pain made it hard for him to make full use of his arms and move them around enough to undress himself.

It only took Astarion one glance to take the scene in and realise this. He put down the bottle next to the other stuff Halsin had put out in preparation and took another step closer to the druid, already holding up his hands, reaching out.

“Nothing, huh? But you can’t even loosen the straps on your armour, eh?”, he teased but there was actual worry in his voice and eyes and Halsin didn’t dare protest now. The sudden genuineness surprised the druid once more. Silently, he wondered how many more moments like this there would be tonight.

“Let me do it for you”, the vampire continued and already started undoing the straps of Halsin’s armour with his nimble, elegant fingers - starting on the side and then slowly moving around to the druid’s back. Silence stretched out between the two men as Astarion quickly undid the buckles; already a lot less awkward than before.

It was only interrupted when smooth, cool fingers accidentally made contact with warm skin and sudden gasps left both the druid’s and the rogue’s mouth when Astarion started to gently drag the armour off Halsin’s chest.

The druid helped by lifting up his muscular arms as much as his wound would allow - suppressing strained moans as much as possible.

Astarion took off the armour and discarded it rather carelessly somewhere off to the side, seemingly distracted. In all honesty he was a bit too smitten with how the now half-naked druid looked before him. Strong muscles moved with every breath Halsin took - flexing, relaxing again, it was almost hypnotising.

But seeing the big giant gash just under the rib cage that snaked around Halsin’s upper body ripped Astarion out of his stupor rather quickly. Deftly, he stepped around the druid once more and made sure to keep staring at the wound rather than the rest of Halsin’s body.

All the while in his head the vampire kept turning around the question why he was seemingly so affected by this man. Usually he was the one in charge, taking the lead, the one seducing and making the other party gasp in awe and admiration. He didn’t like to be caught on the backfoot.

But something about the druid drew him to that man. And he was desperate to let it happen, at least for a while. His only hope was that he wouldn’t regret letting down his guard.

What the vampire failed to realise in these moments though, was that the druid was very much just as affected by all of this. Halsin’s breath had become harder and even he himself wasn’t entirely sure if it was because of the wound sending searing pain through his body or if he was yearning to feel more of the vampire’s hands on his naked skin.

Astarion was still staring at the giant slash that had cut the druid from the side of his hip, across his stomach and even up and around to his back. It was big but at least the weapon had seemingly been very sharp and the cut didn’t seem awfully deep. Hence, it had already stopped bleeding for the most part.

Without another word but making it a point to not look into the druid’s face out of fear what the bigger elf would read on his face, Astarion turned around and grabbed the bottle of alcohol and some of the prepared bandages. He opened up the bottle and drenched some cloth in the alcohol.

Meanwhile, Halsin kept staring at the vampire’s long fingers doing their work while unconsciously biting his lip. All he could concentrate on at this moment other than feeling agony from the injury was the thought of Astarion touching him again when he’d clean up the wound - nevermind that the alcohol would make it hurt so much more.

Placing down the glass bottle, Astarion cleared his throat. For a single moment his crimson eyes flicked up to the druid’s who was waiting in anticipation. The way the bigger elf looked at him with slightly parted lips now and wide eyes had not been what he had anticipated. It irritated him enough to let his eyes immediately snap back down.

Then the vampire gently grabbed Halsin’s wrist with his free one despite it not even remotely being in the way of his task. But he had to put his other hand somewhere, right?

In the meantime, the bigger elf took in a big silent breath when he felt the pale hand loop around his wrist. How that simple gesture almost made him drop to his knees begging for more was absolutely beyond him. He tried desperately to contain himself and let the smaller elf do his work.

But he had seen some of the tension he felt reflected in the other’s crimson eyes - and the delicate tenderness. And it was already fueling whatever feelings were starting to rise up within him. Halsin gently bit his lip again to keep from letting out noise as he watched Astarion lean closer to him, bundled up bandage in hand. He saw the furrowed brows, the straight nose, one of the white curls slowly sliding onto the vampire’s forehead as he leaned in to take a closer look at the gash.

The way the dim, warm light illuminated Astarion’s perfect features made the druid almost gasp. Nature had been ever so gentle and careful to make every last detail perfect when it had crafted him.

Then, with a lot of caution Astarion touched the makeshift swab drenched in liquor to the edge of Halsin's wound. Immediately, the big man winced despite trying to brace himself and recoiled from the vampire.

Astarion hissed when the druid clumsily took a step back, then clicked his tongue again. “For nothing this is all very dramatic behaviour, don’t you think?”, the vampire snarled and narrowed his eyes at Halsin. The awkwardness and whatever other delicate feelings had welled up during the silence before was forgotten for a moment.

And now even Halsin couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at Astarion - even though he was quite grateful for a break from the tension that had been forming.

Or maybe he wasn’t, he wasn’t sure about it at the moment. All he could be sure of, was that this unlike elf had an effect on him he didn’t fully understand yet.

“This is the third time you point that out now, Astarion. I admit, it’s not nothing, alright?”, the druid said with a sigh and rolled his shoulders to try and rid himself of some of the tension there. “And I’m grateful you’re helping me. Now please, continue?”

The vampire’s gaze slowly softened again and he remembered with a pang of guilt that he had been the one responsible for all of this happening in the first place when he had provoked an unnecessary fight. And Halsin had to be the one to get him out of it again.

Astarion swallowed down the sentiment and then went back to his task, taking a step once more towards Halsin who was already bracing himself again.

But when Astarion tried to continue the druid couldn’t help but wince and stumble backwards again. For whatever reason the druid who was normally used to patching up himself and not make a fuss about it was terribly sensitive today.

Maybe because the vampire’s presence was taking part of his usual unfaltering will power away to make him think about how good it would feel to be touched more by these delicate hands.

“Alright, I’ve had it now. Sit down!” Astarion hissed in a sudden fit of impatience and with both his hands reached up to push the much taller elf down by his shoulders.

Taken aback by the sudden briskness Halsin simply let it happen and obediently sat down on his bedroll next to him. Then he sat there awkwardly, leaning back on his hands to hold up his upper body, and legs slightly angled before him. 

Astarion knelt down beside him and threw the druid another glance that almost seemed to scold the taller, stronger and older elf for his insolent behaviour. And somehow that seemed to do the trick: when Astarion went back to try and clean the wound Halsin finally was able to endure the painful process. Small strained gasps were still leaving his lips while Astarion worked quickly but precisely to clean the cut.

The vampire’s free hand was on Halsin’s thigh now that was still clad in his leather pants to balance himself while was leaning over and around the druid’s upper body. Maybe that fact was also helping Halsin endure all this. Because he kept staring at the other man’s hand that was lightly and unconsciously squeezing his thigh now. And he suddenly felt himself focusing a lot more on how close Astarion’s long fingers were to…

“There, all done”, the vampire exclaimed cheerfully and leaned back on the balls of his feet.

Halsin let out a deep breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and with quite some desperation realised that the tension he had felt before had moved southwards and was now beginning to visibly strain against his leather pants.

With a cough the druid leaned over a little, trying to cover up his arousal by placing his massive arm in front of it.

Not that he would have needed to even try. The vampire was a keen observer and had immediately noticed the telltale bulge growing under his careful touch. Even though he might have almost missed it since he’d been very much distracted by his own growing arousal while he had kept his eyes fixed on the lower body of the wood elf moving fluidly with each breath he took - despite the pain running through him.

For a moment no one said a word as both men were seemingly overwhelmed with the tension they had created in the small space - and which seemed to become ever smaller the higher the emotions were boiling.

Astarion threw the piece of bandage away towards where he had placed down the bottle earlier while he kept eyeing the druid who was still awkwardly bent over: one leg stretched out straight, the other still angled. The vampire’s tongue darted out of his mouth to nervously wet his lips as he was trying to figure out where to go from here.

Meanwhile Halsin was doing very much the same. As much as he knew about Astarion’s past he wanted to be careful not to cross a line.

Hells, he wasn’t even fully sure if the rogue felt the same way about all of this. Although a voice in the back of Halsin’s head kept insisting that Astarion was here after all and hadn’t shied away. And somehow he couldn’t bring himself to believe that the vampire would have done all of this for any other of the companions.

But Halsin’s mind kept turning: trying to contain himself, trying to think of something to say, trying to voice his feelings in a way that wouldn’t drive the other man away, trying to decide what he was supposed to do.

He kept thinking desperately while no sound except for their breathing filled the small space.

Until the vampire took the decision upon himself.

Astarion looked the druid straight in the eye, chin held up proudly. “You want me to finish the job?”

Something enticing was glinting in the pale elf’s red eyes, something that immediately made Halsin’s now full blown erection ache with the need to be touched again - more and especially down there. It was clear now to the druid that his carnal reaction to Astarion’s touch and presence hadn’t gone unnoticed. But he didn’t even care anymore.

What he saw on the other man’s face was much more important right now.

It didn’t make it any easier to find the right words though.

“Dressing the wound, I mean”, Astarion replied while cocking his head with a lewd smile after some more time of the druid’s mind racing and coming up empty-handed. Halsin was frustrated and surprisingly pleased alike by how this man seemed to be able to make a complete mess out of him with barely doing anything at all.

And that must have been visible because a haughty grin stole onto the vampire’s face, until even his fangs were clearly visible and glinting in the low lantern light.

“Yes”, the druid pressed out and with some quick words instructed Astarion on how to use the salve before he leaned back on his hands again. Immediately, the vampire went to work, scooping some of the ointment out with his fingertips and then starting to spread it across the cleaned cut with his flat hands.

He looked right in the druid’s face now who couldn’t help but hold his gaze.

Astarion was sure of what to do now. Still not sure about if he would regret it later though. But he’d realised that an opportunity had presented itself: indulge in some pleasure. And one that was unprompted even. In fact, he was very much surprised at how quickly things had gotten heated. Obviously he felt more attracted and drawn to Halsin than he had let himself believe before. Maybe this didn’t even have to be about an ulterior motive. Maybe - just maybe - he could indulge just this once and just soak up some of the pleasure he desperately craved.

He was very much a hedonist after all. The vampire was keen to start to act on it.

His hands were still applying the salve, maybe wandering and lingering a bit - or even a lot - more than necessary.

Halsin in the meantime kept staring at the vampire - his eyes flicking from his face, his eyes, his lips to his hands that gently but teasingly took care of him. The druid didn’t hide anymore how much just this already turned him on. Both men knew now where all this would lead - an unspoken truth.

After finishing applying the balm, Astarion’s dexterous hands made quick work of wrapping bandages over the treated wound and around the druid’s body. He tied it off neatly to the side just like the druid instructed him to in a hoarse voice.

Then his hands lingered. Astarion looked straight into the eyes of the other man, taking in the larger elf’s face: the scars and the tattoo, the still parted lips, his eyes.

Meanwhile the vampire’s hands deliberately wandered over Halsin’s chiselled stomach, fingertips playfully stroking over the muscles while Astarion’s mouth fell open, tongue licking over his lips and he felt his own arousal between his legs ache.

But just before Astarion’s hands could stroke down to where both men desired it the most, Halsin broke the silence once more. Before a line would definitely be crossed, he needed to know. He needed to know that this was actually what the other man wanted.

“Astarion,” he said, barely able to keep a moan out of it “why are you here?”

The vampire’s hands immediately stopped, the promising glint in his eyes momentarily drowned by insecurity, worry and fear. But he caught himself quickly again.

“Why? Well, obviously you desperately needed my-”, the vampire began teasingly, repeating what he had said earlier.

“No - why are you really here?” Halsin asked. Suddenly it felt like he was in charge of the situation again and was not distracted by his attraction to the vampire anymore.

Astarion though felt put on the spot. His eyes dropped to the ground.

His first instinct usually would have been to snark at the druid. But something in the way the giant elf looked at him with such gentleness in his eyes made him stop. And even more, it drew a very unprompted confession from him.

“Because I- Because it looks like I care for you, druid”, the vampire admitted while his eyes found Halsin’s again. He’d found his confidence again.

And that was more than enough for Halsin.

He leaned forward and effortlessly grabbed the smaller elf. Dragging him onto his lap, the movement immediately caused both their erections to rub against each other - causing both to moan in desperate need.

Halsin drank up the vampire’s breathless groan by pressing his lips to Astarion’s. They met in a passionate, open-mouthed kiss. The druid’s tongue immediately slipped into the other man’s mouth, taking it in the frantic need to show Astarion how much he wanted him.

Halsin was leaning back now, laying down on his back, his hands holding the vampire by the hips and with that movement forcing the other to place his hands next to the druid’s head while leaning over him to keep going with the wild and messy kiss.

Another consequence of this change in position was that - being dragged there by Halsin’s strong hands - Astarion was very much grinding against the larger man. The vampire felt his own dick slide over the druid’s, his groin pressing pleasantly against the other man's despite the clothing being an annoying barrier between them.

The sensation turned the vampire on so much he had to break the kiss to arch his head and back in the heedless pleasure that was suddenly hitting him like a wave in a storm. How the slowly built up tension was so suddenly turned into an inferno was almost too much all at once.

The rogue sat up until he was straddling Halsin, trying to catch his breath, letting his thoughts catch up with his body. He stared at the druid and was pleasantly surprised to see a challenge glint in the druid’s face. Astarion’s lips turned upwards in a sensual smile. With this he could work - he was more than ready to meet the other head on.

While he supported himself with one hand on Halsin’s firm abs - careful not to touch the freshly dressed wound - he let the ball of his hand wander over first his own and then the other man’s erection. Thereby drawing a low growl from Halsin whose hands were pressing down harder on Astarion’s hips now and forcing him to grind against his hardened length again. The vampire just laughed haughtily as he enjoyed how easily he could turn the massive man into a mess.

Astarion let his hands wander over the druid's body, taking his time now, to let his fingertips explore the lines and ridges of Halsin's warm body. The body of a man that had lived a whole lifetime so far - and somehow still felt like a youngster now that he could barely contain his lust.

The wood elf was basically ready to perish under the hands of this man. He wasn't sure he was going to survive what would follow still. If the vampire kept going like this he might just come undone like this.

But he yearned so much for it, hungered for more. And as he looked upon Astarion’s perfect face while he was caressing his body so tenderly, he saw the same starvation in the vampire's eyes and knew what he had to do.

With impatience the druid’s hands began to tug on the other’s clothing, eager to get it off. To feel smooth cool skin on his warmer, rougher one. And since the vampire was just as eager after such a drawn out trade of nothing but touches, glances and gasps, they both made quick work of their remaining clothes and carelessly tossed them off towards the side.

Then, Astarion was back on the druid. He allowed himself a moment to take in the marvellous, gentle man beneath him, then he immediately grabbed for Halsin’s cock and worked it with as much care as he had used to clean and dress the wounds before: he was delicate, but firm and applied just the right amount of pressure as he squeezed and stroked. He rolled his hips just a little to get some friction in unison with the movements of his hand.

Immediately, breathless gasps and moans started to spill from the wood elf’s lips. The need was just too much - this would neither take long nor would it be very elegant.

Astarion moaned contentedly, letting his head fall back while he took pleasure in pumping the larger elf’s length and occasionally pressing it against his own.

He'd been so starved and only now realised it. Already he knew he would crave this again - this messy pleasure that wasn't an act. And more than this: the delightful softness, the careful reluctance and most of all: the tender man beneath him that somehow seemed to have looked through his defences down to his very core.

And who with no further questions asked, had decided to take it upon himself to care for this hurt and broken vampire.

Halsin was holding him steady while grabbing and squeezing his lover’s backside and finally sneaking one of his large hands around to carefully slide a finger into the vampire’s entrance. And then quickly a second one when he took in Astarion’s delighted and pleased reaction of being teased like this.

He took him so well and a hellishly wicked grin was splitting the druid’s face now while Astarion gasped when he felt the deft caress. He repaid Halsin with his head lolling back, eyes closed while an expression of blissful pleasure took over his face. It made him even more beautiful, Halsin found, as he kept up his movements and the vampire worked his cock harder.

It wouldn’t be an awfully long act that much had been sure from the beginning. But when the druid was almost spent he was desperate to draw out the pleasure even a bit more. And much more important than that: make sure that the vampire would get his fair share in it too.

Halsin withdrew his fingers causing Astarion to sigh in frustration at the sudden loss. But when the druid effortlessly lifted him up again and positioned his cock - still in the vampire’s skilfull caress - at his entrance, the frustration was quickly turned into exhilaration again.

“Alright?”, Halsin pressed out while he let Astarion hover above him, pressing only the glistening top against the vampire’s entrance - being patient despite all his primal instincts screaming at him to take the other man and take whatever else he wanted.

But he needn’t wait long: the vampire eagerly nodded in agreement, removed his hand and rewarded the large elf with a sharp intake of breath when he took the druid to the hilt in one smooth movement.

The vampire’s head lolled back again as he tried to get used to the overwhelming sensation of the druid inside of him. He’d figured he’d be more than a handful and was delighted to feel pleasantly filled. Astarion’s own cock twitched again and again as jolts of pleasure ran through him just from the feeling of the druid being buried deep inside of him. Halsin watched this all with content delight while he himself was biting his lip in pleasure from the vampire clenching around his hardness. The tent was filled with groans and gasps while both of them were breathing heavily - barely able to endure the pleasure that this night had become.

But finally getting to where he needed to be so desperately had set the druid on a path that would reach its end inevitably and soon - although it would be unbelievably pleasant for both of them. He lifted the smaller elf up again until he had almost fully withdrawn, looking right into his partner’s red eyes as Astarion’s mouth formed a silent “O”.

For a moment he held him there, tasting the delicious tension and delighting in the feeling of strings stretched so far they were almost snapping on their own.

Then he let him slam down onto him again. Just this one movement being almost enough to send both men over the edge and into oblivion. Halsin repeated the motions and settled for a steady rhythm that Astarion slowly took over until it was him riding the druid, face lifted to the heavens, clenching around him time and again to draw more of Halsin’s desperate, carnal reactions out of the larger elf. It became wild, vicious almost - as the vampire felt that he was free to take what he wanted from the druid. The looks Astarion threw him with half-lidded eyes made Halsin almost feral as well.

The druid moved his arms so he was holding his lover on top of him with just one arm. With his free hand he reached for Astarion’s cock and gently started to stroke it while the pale elf kept riding him, unapologetically chasing his own high.

The vampire gasped, his head snapping back as he received even more of the other man’s affectionate and passionate attention. With the vampire eagerly continuing to drive them both up towards the stars the druid didn’t need to do much to stroke Astarion in a way that had him furrow his brows and tense even more in pleasure. With a slightly adjusted angle the rogue was almost thrusting into Halsin’s hand, enjoying his firm hand squeezing around him.

When had been the last time someone had taken care of him like this - Astarion couldn’t even remember. He was almost senseless already with pleasure and bliss. It must have been centuries since he’d been able to let himself go like this.

Not long after, Halsin felt how Astarion’s movements became ragged, uncontrolled while he became even more vocal than before - his mouth was wide open now, sharp fangs glinting in lantern light. Halsin tightened his grip on the vampire’s dick and deliberately bucked his hips upwards to push in even deeper and his lover over the edge while he himself felt how he lost grip. The vampire rewarded him with a small unwilling yelp while pleasure whipped through him with full force.

And then Astarion unravelled first: coming with his cock twitching in the druid’s hand, spilling over him while breathlessly crying out Halsin’s full name as if pleading.

His name off Astarion’s tongue was the last drop that had been needed. With a guttural growl Halsin followed his lover already drifting up towards the stars, bucking his hips a final time, to be buried as deep inside his partner as possible when he lost himself.

While both were still trying to catch their breath, Astarion rolled off Halsin to lay next to him. Immediately the druid carefully wrapped an arm around the vampire. He let it happen and snuggled up a bit to the larger man, careful still to not put too much pressure on the wound.

And so they just laid there: breathless, drained - but deeply comfortable and joyous.

Astarion was still surprised how easily and effortlessly the druid made him feel comfortable, stripped all his worries away - Hells, he even made him cuddle after the sex. But he was way too pleasantly exhausted to think about it more, he just enjoyed the warm comfort of the druid’s massive arms around him.

And the druid enjoyed the trust and the company he hadn’t dared to hope for.

“Well,” Halsin breathed out after a long while of lying in companionable silence “thanks for lending me a hand, Astarion.”

The vampire simply chuckled softly.

“I think you’ve repaid me in like, so thank you as well”, he replied with just an edge of teasing in his tone.

They shortly looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Then they both laughed softly. And just enjoyed each other’s company - while healing worked its magic on the both of them.

Tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @hereliesblackdragon

[sgiandubh]

Prophetic

Every single time things look hard to decipher or farcical (and this is one of those farcical times), I remember a long post by @hardblazesong, dealing with BTS aspects and the intricacies of this cesspool of a fandom. I am yet to read something more clear and more bravely stated than the things she wrote almost eight years (!) ago, even if I do not necessarily agree with everything. Especially as far as SC's sexuality is considered and examined, for example - but that is secondary, to me.

Every word in this quoted passage was confirmed by what happened next, for example. And then, some more, if at all possible:

This is exactly what happened, rinse and repeat to oblivion. 'No one above D level status', with the odd lap dancer/Hooters waitress thrown in, for variety. Gross? Effective on the short term perhaps, to quench thirsty/insistent/too close to the real thing rumors and found tidbits, yet damn penalizing on the long run. MPC's dwindling subscription figures are testimony to it, as are the mediocre projects coming his way. And now he sorely needs a seriously good one to keep his rep at a decent level. You see, the entire kilt-cladded, warrior daddy imagery/fantasy is also quietly wearing off, as OL is coming to its merciful end. But believe it or not, S will survive even this life-changing experiment with fame. The key question here is 'how' and I have no definitive answer to it. But I am confident, and this Soroptimist approach of mine will always be my guilty pleasure, as far as S is concerned. Perhaps the only one, since the guy won't ever make me turn my head for him in the street. Not even sorry about that. But as I have already told you, I do like an underdog and know how to spot them, when I see one.

Now, as far as C is concerned, the 'low key thing' turned into the perfectly artificial farce we all know about. It is my sincere belief at least 85% of her Taliban Stan crowd is simply paying lip service to what they chose to believe and are constantly being reminded of by their trolling Sopranos. So much so, in fact, that it all reeks rather of Pollyannaism than critical thinking, no matter how brutal or self-assured they may sound. And at this point in time, with zero communication on the topic and C who apparently DGAF about narrative continuity when it comes to this, it's only fair to say more oil is being quietly, constantly thrown onto those embers of suspicion and legitimate, logical doubt.

As for going political, we all saw what happened with S's Gaza comment, didn't we? Case in point to never cross obvious red lines and allow your own emotions get in a mix you cannot control and which must not have been addressed, to start with. Especially when you are, above anything else, a media product manufactured on purpose for reaching the widest potential audience. MAGA Mommies crowd included.

Also, this:

Again, this is exactly what happened, and consistently so. Proof of this are the multiple times I had to excuse myself to powder my nose in the middle of a Zoom call or meeting, whenever my cellphone was blinking with concerned messages about this or that insignificant turn of an apparently endless, boring and disingenuous AF narrative. Shippers are worried and potentially even hurt every single time a Fitness Harem representative shows up on the roster. S knows that - how could he not, he is part and parcel of it? Trolls know that: in fact, this is their bread and butter in this fandom. And the reason this happens is an unnecessarily cruel and by now pathetic bout of schizophrenic trivia deliberately being thrown in, from time to time, for... eh... for reasons. Whether this is for 'protection' (complete quiet would be way more decent and effective, I think) or diversion, or remaining relevant, or even shits and giggles is entirely secondary, one more time. These allow to address all the factions of this fandom at once, using what are by now some lazy, well-tried and accessible plot devices (SM twisting reality, cheap pap walks, timeline innuendos, etc). Again, this is wrong and harmful, in the long run. It is refusing to see the forest for the trees and completely ignore the fact this is building the wrong persona and the wrong brand. Back to that sore need for a really good project I have mentioned before and own reasoning nicely tied in, thank you.

As for how SC feel about us, shippers, I suppose things are clear. I don't think they like us, and to be blunt, how could they? Mistakes have been repeatedly made, especially when it comes to projecting going completely, tastelessly out of control, the hyper sexualization and objectivation of both S and C (naively dirty fanfic, anyone? come on, we all read it!) and the liberties some took with decency, as far as C is particularly concerned. And by this, I don't mean stalking - that is pushing Covfefe Pics really too far and being a perfect hypocrite about it, when we know the entire faction was demanding proof, on many tones & in many ways and kept on pressuring for something along those lines to happen. To me, however, the most toxic part of it was definitely Jess' unfortunate drooling all over someone else's love story. It definitely had an impact and it was definitely been used as such, until it wasn't. The rest of all that obsessive approach are just spin-offs, but the bad seeds were gleefully planted there and then.

Before landing here, I carefully weighed in my options. And I chose to be primarily interested in business and legal paperwork simply because it so happened that an irritated reaction while on an Athens taxi ride prompted my arrival here. Then I realized it was the only way to bring something new to an already stalling body of public lore and keep it simple and real. What I did discover and what the trolls across the street chose to dismiss as trash is, in fact, evidence enough of the chasm that exists between what people are being served and supposed to gobble up, no questions asked, and a reality that certainly is more nuanced. This is what really makes me tick and this is why I am still here, while there are so many more useful and enjoyable ways to keep myself busy.

Rest assured, though: I am not going anywhere, even if from time to time life and a very strenuous job take precedence. I hope you can understand this. In the meanwhile, you have been so many witty, kind and warm people coming along my path, that I would feel like betraying you (and myself!) if I went away. And no, I have never felt more sure about SC than probably now, even if this 'SC' doesn't necessarily coincide with your own version of that saga.

Newbies can read the entire @hardblazesong's post here: https://www.tumblr.com/hardblazesong/678440162606350336/the-time-has-come-shipsters-to-write-a-lengthy?source=share

Thank you for reading this very long comment, summing up all the thoughts that nagged me while I was simultaneously translating and slaloming between my two mother tongues, while in Tunis. I am rather good at compartmentalization, you see. This post is also a clumsy homage of sorts to all the brilliant, brave and bold women, past and present, of The Shire, who have tried and managed to see beyond the thick veil of deceit this entire #shitshow is. The fact so many of us, across so many cultures and personal circumstances, saw the same damn thing and questioned it with integrity and wit, should be arresting evidence there are more things.

PS: I think we can all agree on the fact the Biggest Troll in this fandom is 'Erself, the Flip-Flop Blue Nailpolish Goddess. But that's a different story.

[discordantwords]

Thank you so much for the tag @therealsaintscully!

How many works do you have on ao3? 48! 30 for BBC Sherlock and 18 for The X-Files.

What’s your total word count? 924,659 (whoa, that's a lot of words)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea White Knight Incidents with Dogs, Curious and Otherwise Another Auld Lang Syne The Dead Detective

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I try to. I'm not always as on top of it as I intend to be. I find comments tremendously meaningful and I at times get emotional while reading them. They are important to me. I reread them often.

I often fear that I'm a poor conversationalist and overthink my responses, which can tend to freeze me up.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Most of my long fics have happy endings.

The Pillar upon Which England Rests is my ode to Mrs. Hudson. As she and John are grieving Sherlock's fall, she tells John all about how she and Sherlock first met. I don't think of it as a particularly sad story, but I suppose that ending counts as angsty, as Sherlock's eventual return is not addressed in the story.

I guess the shorter, more horrorish ones have angsty (or at least uneasy) endings.

Nothing Happened in Belarus has S4 Sherlock, in the throes of his breakdown, somehow briefly traveling through time and encountering S1 John, who cares for him. It's a brief reprieve for him in the midst of a personal hell, but there is no resolution. When he returns to his own time, he is still forced to face what's coming next.

At the end of Leaves, Sherlock and John have either successfully defeated the bloodthirsty plant that has invaded their flat, or they're being digested by it. I leave that decision up to the reader. :)

The Web has Sherlock returned from his time away and reunited with John, but there is a part of him that will always remain haunted and deeply paranoid.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

Most of them, heh. I like to leave my characters in a good place after putting them through hell.

I guess I'd have to say White Knight? I still get a little giddy when I think about the way Sherlock proposes at the end of that one, and how happy and free they both are after the crushing weight of misunderstandings and grief has fallen away.

Whirlwind has a pretty joyful ending, too.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written a crossover, but I have done a few fusion fics. The Dead Detective is a fusion with Jumpin' Jack Flash. Whirlwind is a fusion with Twister. Out There is a fusion with The X-Files.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not really. Most responses on AO3 have been warm and supportive. I have gotten a few unnecessarily vicious comments on some of my ficlets here on Tumblr, but I do my best to ignore those.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Most of my smut tends to be of the R-rated variety, because I'm frankly just not very good at writing it.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes, sort of, but I don't believe it was done maliciously and I don't intend to call attention to it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have not. I'm open to the idea, but I honestly don't know if I'm cut out for it. I think my tendency to wing things and my utter lack of a consistent writing schedule would drive a potential writing partner mad.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

Mulder and Scully were my first true fandom love. I love Sherlock and John equally as much, if not more.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

There are quite a few WIPs on my hard drive that may never see the light of day. As far as posted fics, my Sherlock/Knight Rider fusion probably won't be finished.

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that I'm pretty good at capturing character mannerisms, and writing from a perspective that lets the reader feel what the POV character is feeling.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not all that impressed with my smut writing abilities.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I steer clear of it. Although Google translate can be helpful, IMO there are too many opportunities to make embarrassing or inadvertently offensive mistakes.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The X-Files

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I really enjoy the character dynamics between Hannibal/Will in Hannibal and Lestat/Louis in Interview with the Vampire. I think I'd have a harder time getting into their heads than I do with Sherlock and John, so I'll probably just continue admiring them from afar for now.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

This is such a hard question! I'm probably proudest of the work that went into Out There, but I have a huge soft spot for The Pillar upon Which England Rests and (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea.

If anyone out there would like to share your thoughts on some of the things you've written, please do! I'll also tag @thetimemoves @arwamachine @raina-at @vulpesmellifera @iheardyou @totallysilvergirl @khorazir