#what happens is i go through a RUSH where i am enjoying drawing things and it flows out naturally

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Im so excited to almost be done w comms bc i cannot wait to Also jump on the bandwagon and play dress up w Peppino

[pathologicalreid]

hiii I love ur fics <3 I am OBSESSED with the prompt “can you come get me?” bc h/c makes me 💥💥💥 so I was thinking:

reader has been kidnapped by the latest unsub and the team is trying their hardest to find her but all the leads keep coming up empty until one day Spencer gets a call from her and the first thing she says is “can you come get me?” she sounds extremely upset and afraid so Spencer and Hotch leave to go find her. when they get there, she looks like she’s been through hell so they rush her to the hospital to be checked out, all the while they can’t seem to get any info out of her about what happened.

Spencer & reader could be platonic or romantic, whichever you like. (also I was thinking maybe hotchner!reader ? if that wouldn’t be too many things to ask for lol)

I love how you do angst and h/c, so keep up the good work and have a wonderful day <3

can you come get me? | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: kidnapping, hospitals, stitches, blood draws, catatonia, disassociation, brief mention of sa, ohio mentioned, general cm violence (let me know if i missed any) word count: 4.56k a/n: i have no idea how this got so long but i love the plot of it so much that i couldn't cut any of it! i'm such a slut for the "you came"/"you called" trope that i couldn't help myself! i wrote this with the idea that it would be in place of the m*eve storyline (which means our lord and savior blake is here)!! anyways anon i hope you enjoy this - i love you!

Any external sound was completely ignored as Spencer flipped through the same file for the eighteenth time that day. In his periphery, he saw JJ and Rossi nod at each other before Rossi split away, walking up the ramp to where Hotch’s office was.

It took him a moment to realize JJ had made herself comfortable by sitting on the edge of his desk. She had her jacket neatly folded in her arms as she eyed the file he had, grief filling her eyes as she registered what he was looking at. “What are you doing tonight?” She asked, trying to keep her voice as light as possible.

The question was entirely pointless, she knew exactly what he was doing tonight, but in an attempt to get her to leave him alone, Spencer humored her, “I’m working late tonight,” he answered simply.

JJ’s smile faltered ever so slightly before she shook her head, “You’ve been working late all week, what if you come over tonight? Will’s making dinner. Garcia’s coming after she finishes her system update,” the attempt to get him out of the office didn’t go over his head, but it wasn’t going to work. “Henry would love to see you – maybe you could teach him a new magic trick.”

Peeling his eyes off of the paperwork, he looked up at the blonde, “You know I can’t.” He felt so close to an answer, he couldn’t possibly leave.

“Look, Reid, I get it, but you’ve been working crazy hours for the past month. Maybe taking a night off would be good. You can start fresh in the morning,” she tried to coax him into leaving the case be.

It hadn’t been a full month; it had been twenty-seven days. Almost four full weeks since you were taken. It had been one week since Section Chief Cruz had told Hotch that the BAU needed to start taking new cases, as the trail to you had run cold.

Considering you were Hotch’s daughter, that discussion had gone rather poorly. Cruz had been able to give the team leeway. Both Spencer and Hotch had fully intended on taking advantage of that leeway, and the rest of the team helped when they had the capacity.

Turning back to your file, Spencer shook his head, “I’ll go if Hotch goes.” He knew there was no way Hotch would be leaving the office tonight, the only reason Hotch went home anymore was for Jack, and he was at a sleepover tonight.

JJ’s shoulders slumped in abject disappointment as her eyes followed Dave as he exited Hotch’s office, the slamming of the door enough to make the lingering BAU agents flinch. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, defeated.

Rossi wagged a finger at Spencer, “Go home at some point tonight, kid,” he instructed.

Waving a quick goodbye, Spencer resumed making notes in the margins of the papers that were making a permanent home on his desk. He looked up when Hotch exited his office, eyes following him as he brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchenette. The two of them acknowledged each other with a nod before continuing on with the hunt.

Both of them knew the odds, that you had been gone this long and there was a good chance that they’d never see you again. Despite that, Spencer would head up to Hotch’s office in about an hour, and the two of them would confer.

Eventually, the sun set, and a thunderstorm rolled in, the flashes of light coming in through the windows as he began to consider going for another cup of coffee.

Wiping a hand down his face, he inwardly groaned as his phone started to ring. Half expecting it to be JJ, he was surprised to find that it was an unknown caller. Clicking the answer button, he lifted the phone to his ear, “Hello, this is Dr. Reid.”

There was an eerie silence on the other end of the call, if he strained his ears, he could hear the pattering of rain. He tried to greet the other person again, but when there was no answer, he started to lower the phone to hang up.

“Can you come get me?” Your quiet voice came through the receiver, effectively knocking the wind out of Spencer’s lungs.

Fiddling with his belongings, Spencer gripped your file, “Where are you?” He asked urgently.

You sniffled, “I don’t know. A payphone off of twenty-eight.” If he strained his ears, he could listen to the rain. Spencer wondered if he could calculate how far away you were by the sound of the thunder where you were compared to where he was.

His chest ached at the exhaustion in your tone, imagining you had gotten approximately as much sleep as he had recently. That is to say, little to none. Pulling the phone slightly away from his face, he called out for Hotch, getting his attention and waving him over. “Y/N, can you see any mile markers or exit signs anywhere?” Spencer asked, bringing the phone back up to his ear.

“I can’t see much of anything,” you admitted. That made sense, your glasses had been recovered at your abduction scene. Spencer kept them in his bag with the rest of your belongings that had been released from evidence. “I feel lucky enough that I was able to find a pay phone,” you said, and for the first time, he noticed that you were whispering.

Glancing at the inside of his wrist, Spencer checked the time. JJ had mentioned something about Garcia staying in her office for a system update – what were the odds the tech analyst was still there? Stalking out of the bullpen, he made his way to her office, Hotch hot on his heels.

After knocking on the door, her voice rang out, “Enter, mere mortal.” Once she had recognized who it was, she greeted Spencer directly, “Ah, Dr. Reid, did you need a ride to JJ’s?”

“Can you locate a payphone based on the phone number?” He asked hurriedly, the longer you stood out there in the rain, the more danger you might be in.

A confused look was plastered on her face, but she turned back to her screens and started click-clacking away. “Most def, boy genius. Run me the digits,” she responded, pulling up some sort of database that Spencer didn’t recognize – probably for the best.

She typed the phone number just as quickly as he recited it, turning around and telling him that the pay phone in question was approximately thirty minutes away. You had only been thirty minutes away this entire time. “Send the coordinates to Hotch’s phone,” Spencer instructed, stepping toward the door. “Tell the rest of the team to come in,” he continued, “it’s Y/N.”

Each stage of grief flashed across Penelope’s face as she nodded assuredly, scrambling for her phone as she took care of notifications.

Impatiently, Hotch held the elevator door open as Spencer entered, keeping the phone up to his ear, “Stay on the phone,” he told you.

A desperate whimper came from your end of the call, “I don’t have any change. I found a few quarters on the ground, but I don’t have anything on me.”

“Stay on as long as you can, angel,” Spencer amended. “We’re on our way.”

The rain was worse than he had initially thought, but Mother Nature was no match for Aaron Hotchner. They were only about five minutes from the coordinates that Garcia had shared, and the phone call had dropped off before they were even on the main highway. The dropped call certainly didn’t help the rising tension in the SUV.

“Did she sound scared?” Hotch had asked for the nth time.

Not taking his eyes off of the map, Spencer nodded, “She sounded like she was stranded in the middle of the woods in Virginia, in a thunderstorm, and was using a pay phone as a lifeline.” His entire body was thrumming with nervous energy as they sped down the road, “but she’s alive.”

He didn’t miss the way Hotch’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. You being alive would have to be enough of a comfort to the both of them for now, but Spencer knew what your life meant to your father.

“There it is,” Spencer said, interrupting his thoughts with the recognition of a phone booth on the side of the road, in front of a seemingly abandoned gas station. In a moment of uncharacteristic recklessness, Spencer clambered out of the vehicle before it came to a full stop, an umbrella and jacket in tow.

Hesitantly, he approached the crumpled heap of limbs underneath the pay phone. It wasn’t a full booth, it had just enough coverage to prevent the payphone from short-circuiting. You had jammed yourself underneath it, trying to keep yourself as dry as possible.

Kneeling in front of you, he swept his sopping-wet hair from his face, “Y/N.” His voice was no more than a breath, he didn’t dare reach out to touch you — lest you not want to be touched. A strike of lightning lit your surroundings enough for him to note the bruise that had bloomed on your cheek.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he watched as your lips parted in recognition, “You came,” you whispered.

He nodded, “You called.” His heart soared as you shuffled yourself closer to him, allowing him to wrap the FBI-issued jacket around your rain-soaked frame. “Let’s get you out of this rain, alright?”

Standing up on shaky legs, Spencer helped you walk to the SUV where your dad was waiting, shining a flashlight to help guide you to the vehicle. Based on how heavily you were leaning on him, he could tell that your left leg was injured. Despite your injury, you stepped away from Spencer to hug your father.

For a moment, Spencer felt like he was intruding on a family moment, but he recalled all of the times he had been invited to join in Hotchner festivities these last few years and allowed his eyes to meet Hotch’s.

The two of them shared an understanding look as Hotch pulled away, “We should get you to a hospital,” he said, cupping your face with parental gentleness.

Spencer helped you into the SUV, unable to put any pressure on your leg, you depended on the handles to pull yourself up. As you maneuvered yourself, he tried to determine what your injuries were. His eyes scanned your body until he made his way back to your face, “Angel, keep your eyes open.” He felt as if he was asking a lot of you, but he didn’t know if you had taken a hit to the head. Falling asleep could do more damage. “Hey, Y/N?” He said, watching as your eyes fell shut and your head slumped forward. “Hotch,” Reid said urgently from the backseat.

Understanding perfectly, Hotch hit the lights on the SUV and turned on the siren. Flashes of red and blue signaled to other drivers that there was an emergency.

You were silent.

As soon as they had gotten you to the emergency room, your entire demeanor had changed. Spencer guessed that you had been in fight or flight when they had picked you up from the phone booth, and now that you were getting the help that you needed, all of the fight had vacated your being.

In the white fluorescence of the hospital, he could see how drained you looked. Once the doctors got their hands on you, you refused to let him or your dad near you.

Hotch was in the hallway, talking on the phone with your Aunt Jessica while he tried to arrange childcare for Jack so he could stay with you - the leader of your care team estimated you’d be in the hospital for at least a few days.

While you had been mobile when they came to get you, your energy had left along with your adrenaline, and eventually, the best course of action was to just let you sleep. That was how Spencer ended up sitting cross-legged in a stiff hospital chair, watching over you as you slept.

Respectful of your wishes, he kept a fair distance from you, but you’d be hard-pressed to convince him to let you out of his sight. There were tubes and wires going every which way from your body, oxygen, an IV, and electrodes monitored your life. Boiling you down to a collection of numbers that showed Spencer just how alive you were.

The doctors suspected you had bacterial pneumonia, but they were still waiting on the results of your chest X-ray to make a formal diagnosis. Your presumed leg injury had turned out to be a bruised hip bone – part of a sickening pattern that reflected that of someone who had been thrown down a flight of stairs.

A knock on the window to your hospital room caught his attention, causing him to turn his head and come face to face with Rossi and Blake. Opening the blinds so that he’d be able to keep an eye on you from the hallway, Spencer stood up and joined his colleagues in the corridor.

“What’s the report?” Rossi asked, nodding in the direction of your room, and placing his hands on his hips.

Spencer rubbed the back of his neck before responding, “The doctor said that all things considered, she’s in good shape, but…” Shaking his head to wake himself up, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “She’s sick and was beaten. Right now, she’s sleeping. We have no idea she was running in the woods, so it’s not surprising that she’s exhausted.”

He continued on to list other maladies that the doctors had provided, dehydration, malnutrition, one cut on your arm that needed to be stitched, and that was just scratching the surface. Dave nodded understandingly, “but the sooner we get to ask her questions, the better.”

Shrugging, Spencer looked over at your father, and then back to you, “When she wakes up on her own,” he murmured, watching as a nurse checked on your IV. He didn’t want to risk waking you up or asking too much too soon of you. “Can I ask you a quick question?” He lifted a finger inquisitively to the nurse who was walking out of your room, scribbling something on your chart.

The nurse hummed in response, raising her eyebrows as she waited for him to ask.

“Do you think the infection has anything to do with her silence? She might be hurting so she isn’t talking?” He asked, it wasn’t unheard of, when people were in a lot of pain, sometimes they coped with silence.

While the nurse might have an excellent bedside manner, the three profilers took note of the concern in her eyes. “The silence might have more to do with her psychological well-being than her physical well-being,” she responded, it was a healthcare way of trying to appease them. Really, they didn’t know much better than the members of the BAU did.

Blake’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, “Could it be catatonia?”

“In order to diagnose catatonia, she’d need to display three of twelve symptoms. Those are stupor, catalepsy, waxy flexibility, mutism, negativism, posturing, mannerism, stereotypy, agitation, grimacing, echolalia, and echopraxia. So far, she really only meets one of twelve,” Spencer answered.

Shrugging, the nurse pointed at Spencer with her pen, “What he said.” She looked down at the chart before continuing, “Her care team leader called for a psych consult, but we won’t really know one way or the other until she wakes up.”

Nodding, Rossi nodded in acknowledgment, “What else could it be?”

Pursing her lips, the nurse tilted her head to the side, “Peritraumatic disassociation is another possibility, but again, we won’t know until she wakes up.”

The waiting game began. As luck would have it, an FBI agent being abducted created a lot of paperwork, so Hotch was holed up in a conference room while Rossi and Blake worked on the profile. JJ and Morgan stayed back at Quantico with Garcia to look back at what information Hotch and Spencer had been gathering over the past twenty-seven – now twenty-eight – days.

Spencer stayed with you, tucking your blanket around you when he watched goosebumps sprout along your arms. He paid close attention to everything that the doctors and nurses said about your condition, relaying everything to Hotch via text message. They ran a kit on you, and the only solace was that there was a chance that they could DNA match whoever did this to you.

He left that last part out of his message to your father.

As soon as you started waking up, Spencer had to leave the room, watching from the hallway as medical personnel flurried around your bed. At first, he had assumed your aversion to himself and your dad was an overall aversion to men, but you didn’t flinch when it came to the male doctor who was checking your vitals manually.

A nurse peeked out from the door, “Are you Dave?”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Spencer cocked his head back in confusion, “No? I’m not – why?” He asked, gaze flickering back into your room as you scrawled something on the piece of paper that a nurse had handed you.

“She said she’d talk to Dave,” the inquiring nurse shrugged, turning back into your room, and adjusting your pillow beneath your head.

Still confused, Spencer slipped his phone out of his pocket, nimbly typing a message to Rossi before returning the phone to its home in his slacks. Trying to respect your peace, Spencer remained in the hallway, leaning back against the wall as he heard the familiar sound of Italian leather boots turning the corner. “Are you sure she didn’t mean Aaron?”

Spencer shook his head, mirroring the older man’s confusion, “She physically wrote your name out. She’ll only speak to you,” he answered, trying to hide his own pain for the sake of ridding you of yours. If you wouldn’t talk to your father or himself, it made the most sense that you’d talk to Rossi. You’ve known him the entire time your father worked in the BAU.

Shrugging, Rossi walked into your room and approached you with the care of a man approaching a deer. He remained this way until he made it to your bed, and Spencer watched as he smoothed your hair away from your face affectionately.

You leaned into his touch, and Spencer didn’t miss the cue. When was the last time anyone had touched you with love in their heart?

He had kissed you goodbye before you went on your run, just thirty minutes before your location turned off and your usual Thursday route turned into a hunting ground. With what you did for work, you switched paths frequently, but someone had been watching you, or at least, that was the conclusion the team had drawn.

Watching as Rossi spoke with you, Spencer noticed one anomaly – you weren’t speaking to him. Instead, all of his questions were answered with blinks or scribbling on paper.

The two of you went until a nurse came in, telling the both of you that they needed to run a few more tests. Taking his leave, Rossi told you something that Reid couldn’t quite make out and rejoined him in the hallway.

“What did you say to her? Just now?” Spencer asked, his need for any sort of contact with you becoming so desperate that he’d now accept it secondhand.

Frowning, Rossi placed both of his hands on his hips, “I called her piccolina, I used to call her that all the time when she was just a little thing running around the old BAU bunker.” Taking a moment, Rossi pulled out his little notebook and read through it. “White male, late twenties to early thirties, sometimes gone for days on end citing ‘work,’ but she never figured out what he did for work.”

Spencer’s eyes burned at the realization that you had been working your own case while being victimized, he peered in through the window as a nurse drew your blood.

“She said he drove a dark American sedan, making it either blue or black,” Rossi continued to list off, eyes following Blake as she approached the two of you. “Y/N said the car was filthy like he had been living out of it when he couldn’t get to her in the woods. The car had an Ohio party plate on it with expired tags.”

Blake arched a brow at the new information, “Party plate?” She said quizzically, looking at Spencer for clarification.

Nodding, Spencer looked over at his friend, “That’s the colloquial name for restricted license places. They’re given to people who are convicted of DUIs, which is actually called an OVI in Ohio. In Ohio, they’re yellow with red print, and the only state to have something similar is Minnesota where they call them whiskey plates because they all start with the letter W.”

“Well, he’s confident. Maybe too confident, driving around with expired tags and a license plate that already puts a spotlight on him,” Blake said thoughtfully, adding to the profile in her mind. “We should get this information to Garcia, maybe look for people who recently relocated from Ohio with those plates,” she suggested to Rossi.

Rossi nodded, skillfully flipping the cover back over his notepad and gesturing for Blake to follow him to the conference room, effectively leading Spencer to his own devices. When the nurse left to bring the vials of blood to the lab, he returned to your room, taking his seat on the edge of the room – as far away as he could get while keeping his eyes on you.

He looked up to your bed, catching you staring at him. As soon as you knew you had been caught, you turned your head to the other side, averting your gaze toward the window.

Every thirty minutes or so, Spencer moved the chair approximately five inches closer to you, by four in the morning, he had closed half of the space between you. He kept his eyes on you, watching as you stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. You had that crease between your eyebrows that told him you were thinking too hard, and he had to sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and touching it as if he could soothe all of your bad thoughts.

In the doorway, Rossi had appeared, garnering your attention as you propped yourself up on the flat hospital pillows. “We got him,” Rossi announced to the room, a reserved smile on his face.

Spencer watched as you visibly relaxed on the bed, your face softened as your eyebrows relaxed. Rossi explained some next steps, but he was only half listening, he could only focus on you.

Once Dave was gone, Spencer took a leap of faith and shuffled the chair to your bedside, “How are you feeling, angel?” He asked, taking up a muted tone.

You stared at him, blinking at him until, eventually, your face crumpled, and you leaned toward him.

Not missing a beat, Spencer stood up from his chair so that he could sit on the edge of your bed, meeting you in the middle, he gently wrapped his arms around you, rubbing small, soothing circles along your back with the flat of his hand.

In the past twenty-eight days, Spencer thought that being reunited with you could fix all of the hurt in his chest, but this, right here, was a different kind of pain. Tears sept through the fabric of his shirt just as soon as they fell from your eyes, and all of the hurt that he had felt before just morphed into a different kind of suffering.

His heart ached at the sight of you in this much pain, so much emotional turmoil that you had silenced yourself. What was he supposed to say in order to comfort you? ‘You’re okay,’ was wholly false, and ‘it’s alright’ felt like a cruel joke. You very clearly weren’t okay, and none of this was alright.

“I’m here,” he reassured you, his voice no more than a croak as he tried to swallow his own emotions. “I’m right here,” he repeated, continuing his ministrations on your back until you had cried yourself to sleep.

With your body in its weakened state, Spencer carefully adjusted you onto the bed, making sure none of your tubes or wires were kinked before settling back down in his chair and taking your hand in his.

Around the time the sun came up, your care team came through for morning rounds and woke you up to thoroughly inspect your status. Once they left you to your own devices – with the promise of food in half an hour – Spencer focused all of his attention on trying to coax you into speaking to him.

Tenderly, he dragged a finger across your forehead before continuing down the bridge of your nose, “I’d really like to hear your voice, sweetheart.” His voice was gentle, maintaining a subdued tone in the early hours of the morning.

He watched as you sighed, deflating all of the air in your lungs as you tipped your head to the side, interrupting his movements. “I asked him to do it,” you murmured, voice raspy from lack of use.

“To do what?” Spencer asked, heart beating a little faster at the sound of your voice. He watched how you nervously gripped a fistful of sheets and looked at him. Only you weren’t looking at him, it was more like you were looking through him.

You took a deep, shuddering breath before you answered, “To kill me.”

The confession weighed heavy on his shoulders, but it wasn’t regarding anything against you. It was in the realization that you had been in so much physical and emotional turmoil while in captivity that you had asked for your own death. That even for a moment, you sat in front of a killer and asked for him to end your life as an act of mercy.

Noting Spencer’s lack of response, you continued speaking, “That’s why he let me go. I begged him to just end it and that took away any appeal for him.”

Last night. You had pleaded on behalf of your own demise last night. Carefully considering his next words, Spencer met your eyes and replied, “That must’ve taken a lot of courage.”

You faltered for a moment, evidently not having expected those words from him, “What are you talking about?”

It made sense to him now, why you wouldn’t talk to him or your dad. He felt like such a fool. You had been ashamed because you felt like your abductor had diminished your worth by breaking you down. Spencer knew better, “You stood your ground. You faced your own death, and you chose that over further suffering. Dying isn’t an undignified act, no matter how it comes upon you,” he reminded you, smoothing your hair away from your face as he watched your lip quiver.

“Thank you for staying,” you croaked as emotion closed your throat.

Spencer hummed thoughtfully, swiping a rogue tear from your cheek, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 2

Danny had to admit, Lunch Lady was an excellent teacher.

Sure they were blitzing though a cook book thst was more tape and hope the paper, but Danny was for once actually understanding and enjoying being taught.

Cracking an egg into a bowl, Danny held it close while whisking quickly, not fully incorporating the flour in his pancake batter before dumping a good sized dollop on the flat top, smiling from the brief sizzle that he heard.

There was a sudden cacophony sounds from the front of house (which was the dining area? He never knew that before) putting the flat top on low, Danny looked over to where Lunch Lady was floating only to find nothing.

Blinking a bit, Danny wiped his hands off OK his apron as he poked his head out, frowning at the diner car, "What was that..." his words were cut off by one of the blinds slats bending as if pried open, and as he squinted, Danny saw two figures watching from a distance ontop another rail car.

Vigilantes

Danny felt his heart flutter with excitement, while not as cool as maybe Martian Manhunter or StarFire (since y'know...fucking aliens, Space) the Gotham caped community were interesting, if only since Batman and his Flock were Sam's low key obsession, she had even gone out as Robin for multiple Halloweens, and don't even get him started on the fan theories about them all.

Smirking he tapped the bar, allowing thr blinds to snap closed, "Sam is so going to flip that I saw the Birds before her." Letting out a little giggled, Danny quickly swore as he smelt a bit of burning and rushed to flip his pancakes.

---

Tim was, in Dicks opinion, the most concerning member of the family, sure most days he gives of "miserable wet cat" energy but even then Dick had seen his little brother easily take down guys that even Bruce had trouble with.

That wasnt even touching on his um...mental quirks

The less he speaks of the time period between Bruce's and Kons deaths till their eventual return, the better.

Putting down the binoculars, Dick stole a glance over at Red Robin, who was frowning deeply at his wrist computer, scooting a little closer Dick leaned over to see what was happening, "Whatcha do~oing?"

So entranced by what he was reading Tim jumped a little, an elbow flying out to where Dicks face had been a second ago as he turned and glared.

"Don't...! Do that Wing! Ugh..." shaking his head as he let out a huff Tim took his eyes off the small monitor and looked up at the diner car, pointing at it as he spoke scornfuly.

"That place does not exist."

"Like, legally? I am sure Batburger doesn't either-"

"No." Tim said, cutting the older vigilante off, "It doesn't exist physically."

"Timmy..." Dick said as he ran through the protocols for when RedRobin got a little too many insane things in his head.

"Get that look off your face Wing, it really doesn't exist, like..." letting out a sigh, the teen tried to put his words right "Don't look straight at it but a bit to the side so it's to the side of your eye." Pointing to a middle distance a bit away from the diner cart, Dick sent a small frown at his brother but did as he was asked.

"Holy leaping lizards..." Tim, somehow, was right, since when Dick just looked about a few feet away from the diner, it started to waver turning...transparent? And a little blue? But when he looked at it closer it was just a normal, abet run down looking diner.

"Exactly, no need to bench me till Agent A stuffs me full of anti-psychotics!"

"That was one time Tim, and you were having a mental break down."

"I am not lying when I say we killed Santa Claus Dick!"

"Sure Tim...sure"

---

Danny drummed his fingers on the breakfast bar, nursing a cup of coffee as he waited for something to happen.

He knew thst he was being watched, he had a vague idea who was doing the watching, but was starting to get a bit bored waiting for them to get closer.

Pausing mid sip, a grin spread across Danny's lips, "Hey cart? Can you do something that might draw those guys over here? Let's get some customers!"

Some how, Danny's grin only grew at the rumble of the cart, and he xould hav sworn he heard a sound that was a mix between a train horn and a chuckle.

---

Tim shot his brother a stinging glare, swatting at his arm as he blushed, he did every much indeed accidentally killed Santa Claus and took an impromptu trip to Apokolips to give DarkSeid coal.

His next rebuttal to Nightwing was cut off as the diner cart shuddered as if it was in an earthquake before it stilled, and the banner that was across it suddenly gained a new line.

[JUST NOW! VIGILANTES AND HEROS GET ONE FREE SIDE OF FRIES! COME ON IN BEFORE THE OFFER ENDS!]

Tim was silent for a moment, watching the cart to see if there was any more changes before turning to Dick, who had lost the joyful energy that he always seemed to have.

"RR, plans changed, we are going to investigate inside."

Tim gave a sharp nod, his bo staff elongating as he grappled down to the train tracks below, his boots crunching gravel underfoot as he slipped from shadow to shadow, getting closer to Big C's diner.

---

Danny was in the back, flipping through his cook book as he heard a bell ring, jolting up, Danny could see through the service window and see who came in.

He had never met a real hero before, not like the two that had just came in, feeling nervous, Danny fumbled with a small notebook as he came out from the kitchen, grinning at the two Birds.

"Heya! Thanks for coming to Big C's! Names Danny and I am kinda the only one in today, what can I get you both?"

His eyes flickered between the two vigilantes, noticing new things each time he looked at them, like how Red Robin's cape had buttons instead of being sown on, or how Nightwings suit wasn't slick but actually textured.

---

Dick looked at everything he could as he stood in the diners door, it looked like a typical 50s styled mom and pop kinda place, an old radio buzzed with songs of a bygone era while the seats were cracked pink leather vinyl.

He could hear someone moving in the back, resting a hand on his eskrima sticks, Dick stalked further in, it felt real enough...

He could feel Red Robin knock into his back as the person from the back came into view, it was a teen, and holy hell did he look like Bruce Wayne adoption bait, raven hair, blue eyes and a cheesy looking grin.

He couldn't be older than Damian, who had turned 16 a few months ago, the teen was just so...tiny.

Danny, that's the name given to them, and Dick can see it, he looked like a Danny.

Pausing to look to Tim, Dick smiled back at the teen, "Well...can we see a menu?"

[shirefantasies]

LoTR Characters + Pregnant Reader (Wife!Reader)

Back with more parent AU because it's some of my favorite fluff! Consider this a Part 1 to an anon request that’ll be on its way hehe (also an AU where something happens with Celebrían apparently 😥)

Warnings: conception, pregnancy-related illness and symptoms mentioned, very long post lol

Aragorn

✧ Neither of you had made any concrete plans. No set in stone hour of your marriage reserved for the growth of your family or dubbed too early. Thus, you are unsure how your husband will feel about your news, the fact that you got yourself checked out the first moment of illness, mother's intuition in full service already, it would seem. You cannot keep your smile to yourself, though, as you stroll in search of Aragorn, hand hovering about your own waist as if in disbelief. He had just returned from a hunting trip when you found him, smiling shakily at his amusement when you pulled him immediately aside into the next room over. "What troubles your heart?" The man had intuition of his own, years of silent observation- there was no lying to him. "I just learned that I am with child, Aragorn," you took his hand, seeing no point in being anything but direct, "due for the birth next spring if all goes well." "With blossom comes the next blessing of my kin," your husband replied, that wise look in his blue eyes causing you to shake your head fondly, "what could be more beautiful? What a gift you have given me and how could I ever repay it?" Shaking your head once more, you simply grinned and, sighing with relief and anticipation alike, replied that being the amazing father you know him to be will be all you need. Leaning forward, Aragorn laid his head against yours, brushing your noses as he held you.

✧ Looking out upon the kingdom, the realization that is is his kingdom still sinking in, and that he has made this place a home for new life as well. That this is the very reason he fought for a safe world. It brings such a rush to his heart that he goes off in search of you at once, kissing you warmly and caressing your still-small bump.

✧ Aragorn loves doing anything he possibly can to make your days easier, treating you like the queen you quite literally are! He pampers you with treatment like massages, washing your hair for you, drawing you baths, and the like.

✧ While you no doubt have many people at your disposal, quite similarly your husband enjoys cooking for you by hand and memorizes everything that makes you sick if anything as well as the random foods your cravings make you obsessed with, trying to creatively incorporate them into everything.

✧ You knew it already, but your pregnancy brings about the reminder that this man has such a way with encouraging words, his voice the only thing that cuts through the clouds of your changing moods.

✧ Aragorn is the one who tells you not to be so hard on yourself, that you are doing an amazing thing and you are desirable as yourself, no more and no less. No need to hide yourself, no need to perform, no need to feel anything less than the beautiful soul you have always been. Remember, he tells you, he is going nowhere, and you will endure all together.

Legolas

✧ For so long had you and Legolas hoped for your little life, long enough of trial and hope that you’d all but given up until you felt a shift. Felt on the brink of illness at nearly all times, seeking healing for a mystery illness and leaving with news that had your husband holding you for minutes on end, tears sliding down his cheeks, and refusing to let go of your hand all day. Holding you like you might shatter, his other hand wrapped gently around your waist where his hand can brush the curve of your soon-to-be-growing belly. “We did it, my love. We will finally be three.”

✧ Your husband grows wistful, getting a distant look in his eyes before smiling and reminiscing on his younger days. “What demeanor shall our little one have, do you say? I would not mind having two of you,” he teases, while you say a child like him would be much easier!

✧ “Both of your little ones sound quite healthy.” “Both?” You are shocked, but Legolas’s grin never falters, nor does his surprisingly tight, hearty grip upon your shoulders. “Twins,” he keeps repeating in wonder throughout the day.

✧ You and Legolas have a bet running on the twins, if they are to be identical or not. You think they are both boys, while Legolas thinks he has a little girl waiting for him, too. “Wishful thinking,” you tease him. “Absolutely,” he agrees, smiling softly at you.

✧ As time passes, he does tease you about your waddle. “Shall I slow down a bit?” Cheeky prince, but that’s why you love him!

✧ Legolas’s eyes never fix you with anything but awe. He is simply amazed at all the wonders your body is capable of and what it endures. Even though that wonder also manifests as him almost constantly asking if you are alright, it is worth it when your husband looks at you as though captivated by a goddess.

Boromir

✧ Boromir caught you with your eyes bulging out of your head, not a single chance of delaying your discussion. Such news as you have just received can only be considered a blessing, and yet you still are shaken to the core with the spiking precursor of excitement and hope, hope that your husband would be happy. Your words burst forth the moment he took your hands, asking you whatever was wrong and nodding faster and faster with each step of your detailed medical visit. His smile grew and grew until he could hardly help himself, taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that more than assuaged your worries. “Why do you look so worried? Such a wonderful blessing was beyond anything I could imagine,” he tells you, a hand reaching to rest gently upon you.

✧ He all but tackles you to bed that night, kissing again and again your lips, your cheeks, and down finally to your belly.

✧ Boromir’s appreciation of your body never ceases your entire wait. His hands always caressing you, his words always sweet upon your ears, especially to cut through the deprecating ones your own lips utter. It baffles your husband that you cannot see how utterly glowing you are.

✧ One hundred percent though will he be teasing you about the odd cravings you get; even as he goes to fetch them he’s making faces, asking if you’re sure, joking about what strange taste the little one has.

✧ You suspect you are carrying a son while Boromir’s guess is a little girl. After you remind him that a mother knows, he rests a hand over your bump and replies with a teasing grin “Why can’t a father know as well?” “Because you do not have to carry him for the better part of a year!”

✧ One of Boromir's favorite things in this world is the sight of how his lent garments fit you tighter and tighter, bringing a twinge to both the loving and the possessive sides of his heart...and his hands to wrap around you or cup your cheeks and pull you into a kiss!

Gimli

✧ His intuition is off the proverbial charts. It is he who first makes any mention of your chances, stating you should not strain yourself in your condition. You are confused, you even protest, but in the end you have your little appointment and your husband has a smug little moment of ‘I told you so’ before the realization of just what he’d been sensing hits him, dropping his jaw and sending his arms flying about you, lifting you up into the air with a hearty laugh. “The mighty line continues! And thanks to such a beautiful lassie no less! You'll want for nothing, I promise you, and no harm'll come to either of you while I yet draw breath."

✧ Has strong opinions about how well you should be eating, so barring you being stricken with sickness Gimli will be making or otherwise providing for you the heartiest of meals, all the things he believes are necessary to raise up a strong little dwarfling. Thank the fortitude and solace of his people, but you are sick very little your entire journey with this and all other little ones you share!

✧ Given the strength of dwarven genetics, you both assume that you are expecting a boy; thus, your husband insists on crafting a tiny axe for him. “For when he’s older, of course!” Gimli assures you, waving his hands defensively.

✧ No worries about your pregnancy weight here- suffice it to say that a dwarf finds the extra pounds quite appealing and has no hesitation about showing you such!

✧ Any exhaustion you feel is the only thing that stops Gimli from taking you around to all his friends and loved ones and likely anyone else who will listen and announce that he has a child on the way!

✧ Nesting is a very strong instinct of his! Gimli builds and crafts by hand all of your baby's furniture and decor, even an adorable mobile of horses, little dwarves with pickaxes, and little effigies of your favorite animal all dangling above his crib! Leaning his head against your belly, he asks the baby "Well, what do you think? Only the finest for my little flame!"

Frodo

✧ Your husband wasn’t sure at first. Not sure if he would feel whole enough after all he endured to bring a life into this world, but you, oh, you… The one who brought life vividly rushing back to his heart, color returning to his life and comfort to his pain. One day a pang struck his heart and he realized it would mean the world if after it all he was able to create life, and more importantly to have something so amazing come of your love. Soon after you both eagerly hoped for the signs, and it took but a few months. Frodo worried you would be sick, but confirmation comes after weeks without your cycle, nothing more. For once, no pain shall come to Frodo Baggins or those he loves.

✧ Your health is his greatest concern, so much so in fact that Frodo has soon befriended practically every midwife in the Shire, melting them with his endearing eagerness to know all he can about your possible afflictions and what you need. His concerns soon gather you the proverbial village of help should you ever send Frodo off for something beyond his breadth.

✧ It breaks Frodo's heart when his nightmares or moments of panic coincide with your own fragile emotions for the first time, for he should be caring for you, not the other way around, but when you hold each other, tears soaking into the opposite shirt, he realizes that what you two have is an understanding and trust strong enough to fortify each other even in darkness.

✧ In case you were not already aware, you are so lucky in your choice of husband! Discussing names soon emerges into your conversation and it almost takes you aback how quickly agreements on a girl and boy name are reached!

✧ The one time during your entire wait for your little one that brings tears to Frodo’s eyes is the day you bring home a bolt of fabric and when he asks what it is for, you answer to make him and your new arrival matching garments.

✧ You catch him smiling widely at you, love glowing in his bright blue eyes as he watches you do even the smallest things, your little waddle or the way you practice folding diaper cloth. All you can imagine is those same eyes fixed upon a babe in his arms, shooting Frodo the same look right back.

Sam

✧ It seemed that every other conversation you shared with your beloved Samwise revolved around babies, so much so that your few still-unmarried friends had grown sick of it. Anyone with a baby in the Shire, though, knew who to look toward for care! You and Sam gushed over little clothes, little hands, went on for goodness-knows-how-long about how much you'd like a little Sam and he wants a miniature version of the loveliest girl he'd ever seen followed of course by you saying why not both? Sam loved life so much, saw beauty in growth and creation and every joy in it, so of course he wanted a big family and all his infectious sunshine on the subject just made you fall in love with him more and more. Months of trying passed, though, before you came to Sam in a daze, before you cupped his precious face in your hands and whispered to him we did it. Before he tackled you to the soft grassy ground and held you, weeping tears of joy and kissing your hands, your cheeks, finally your lips once he'd spoken how much he loved you.

✧ Takes to sleeping a bit lower, his head nuzzled against your torso. In the night you can feel his nose and lips ghosting over it and even hear little whispers when you both can't sleep, but you say nothing, letting Sam have his moments with the little one.

✧ The worry he has about everything the first time around. "Are you sure you can eat that? I don't want you to get sick." "Is that too heavy?" "Don't trouble yourself a mite when I'm right here, I'll bend over for it." "Alright, only if you're certain nothing will happen to the baby, sweetheart." As much as you want to remind him that you are still a fully functional woman, you know that Sam is an action man and this is his way of showing he cares.

✧ The meals he cooks you. You will be eating like a queen all because Sam wants to keep the baby strong, of course! As a bonus, it truly is like he knows what sets you off and avoids those things without even having to ask.

✧ “Imagine all the wee feet running through here,” Sam muses in bed one night, your head tucked in the crook of his neck. “The little hands grasping ours,” you add. “All the little ribbons we can tie in a girl’s hair.” “Taking your little boy out to the garden!” Once again, your friends act positively sick of how sweet you are, but inside anyone can see how deliriously happy you and Sam are and feel warmed by it.

✧ “When the time comes,” Sam always assures you, your hand tightly in his, “I’ll be right here. Wild horses could hardly drag your Sam away.”

Merry

✧ Your reveal is made a bit anticlimactic thanks to your husband’s teasing ways. “You’re knitting.” Glancing down at your work, you simply nod. “Yes.” “You never knit.” Merry’s eyes narrow. “Is it for somebody?” “If you must know,” you set your needles carefully in your lap and tease back, “this is for your child. Any complaints now?” “My child?” Jaw dropping, Merry looks at you like you’d just offered him the whole of Middle Earth. “That’s right,” your voice softens, even cracking a bit with emotion at the sight of his smile, “you’re going to be a father, Merry.”

✧ Merry’s adorable little habit of making you a pillow pile to lay on during your time of the month carries right through to your pregnancy. And of course it continues even when you remind him you’ll not be able to stand up from in because he will be right there to help you up!

✧ Because you've taken up knitting, Merry wheedles with all his charm and love and kisses an additional creation from you: a sweater made from the same yarn as baby's. "You are lucky to be so adorable," you tease him, looking up from your work to kiss his lovely lips. Maybe, you thought, a whole matching set for three would be in order, though…

✧ Another one who teases you, joking about how he is finally able to outrun you!

✧ The type of father to chastise the baby whenever they kick you too hard, lecturing to the front of your dress about hurting your mother and how that simply won’t do, then looking up at you with a humored smile.

✧ Compliments increase at least twofold upon your revelation, Merry never sparing the kindest words about your strength, certainly, but mostly your beauty. Never once during any pregnancy do you feel unloved, unwanted, unattractive, for even when your eyes can find no light within your reflection there your husband is practically worshipping every corner of your form.

Pippin

✧ Desire for a family was something that had drawn you two together as a couple, though you may have found yourself talking Pippin down from ten children! “Maybe start with five,” you would always tease him. So the moment your hypothesis is tested and confirmed, a grin you can’t remove spreads across your face and you run to collect everything for your surprise. Surprise is the only word you can use when Pippin opens his gift and sees the tiny knitted hat you’ve placed inside the box. “What is this for? Little small, is it not?” “If it was for us, perhaps.” It ended up taking you reaching out for his hand and resting it upon your lower belly for the massive grin to spread across his face, but once it does Pippin is laughing loudly and giddily, swinging you back and forth in ecstasy!

✧ Runs to get you whatever your need with barely an question. After all, who is he to say what it's like being with child, and if you want it, you shall have it. Hot water bottle? Certainly. A cup of tea? Of course. Three more pillows? Why, he'll strip your whole bed down. Panics a little if the request is to relieve pain, so prepare to hear a crash or the shuffle of a trip or two before you have the item in hand or on body.

✧ "What is this for?" "What are these?" Lucky you love him, your husband does have many a question of all the supplies you gather for after your new addition is welcomed. "Oh, to keep the hands safe? That makes sense." "Wait, you need to wear that... to catch the bloo- oh, my." He gulps. "I'm going out right now. I'm getting you a cake and some jewelry and some flowers and anything else you'd like."

✧ Can barely keep his hands to himself. Pippin was always the most affectionate husband you could ask for, but now? Now you two are practically a package set and nary can you travel without his arm around you, hand about your waist and gently running up and down over your little growing bump.

✧ Your baby seems to have inherited your husband’s personality, for even before the birth many signs of how active your little one is are present! Those poor ribs of yours will get kicked more than a few times with all the fluttering your little one stirs up inside of you! Pippin, of course, wants to feel it all and luckily he is never far from the scene. If he is, though, you bet he will run!

✧ Pippin is always laying with his cheek resting on your belly, talking to the baby about anything from how his day’s gone to how they have the most amazing and beautiful mother. Your heart can’t help fluttering every time.

Faramir

✧ Faramir has the most uncanny way of reading you like a book, a habit endearing as it is frustrating. Thus the moment he catches you smiling to yourself he is smiling back, approaching you with teasing question of what has you so happy. For once, though, you have the satisfaction of catching your husband off guard, resting your head against his shoulder and a hand upon his chest as you tell him you just cannot wait to see him as a father. "Someday, my love," he takes your hand and kisses it, "if I am so blessed." Giggling, you shake your head against him. "Blessed indeed! Someday shall be this fall," you answer, and peeling back from him you receive another spike of satisfaction at his wide blue eyes, the drop of his jaw and the race of his heart beneath your hand. "Are you certain?" You nod. This time, he takes both of your hands in his and with tears in his eyes thanks the heavens for you even as he shakily laughs, your bright demeanor never failing to put a smile upon his face. "Our child will be so loved." "I know."

✧ Your husband finds himself lost in reverie more and more often, drifting out of reality into some distant, but nowhere near out-of-reach, dream of your family, seeing you as a mother the most beautiful sight he can conjure.

✧ Faramir adores holding you from behind, his hands curled gently over where your bump forms and his head resting gently upon your shoulder, flowing hair tickling your cheeks and neck lightly.

✧ "One for each of us," is Faramir's joke when one of Gondor's finest medics grants you the knowledge that you are not expecting one child, but two. Your husband is there in the storms, the waves of anxiety rolling within you over being there for your twins. "You are not alone," he always reminds you, a hand joined with yours right over the twins' little hearts.

✧ If you wanted a husband who actually does his due diligence learning all he can about growing babies, birth, and postpartum care, then Faramir is another excellent choice! He’ll be spouting off facts about the whole thing ranging from what size the babies currently are to why you might have contractions after giving birth. Your mood determines whether you listen in or tell him to kindly stop.

✧ Just as with you, Faramir’s insecurities sometimes get the better of him, but they also fuel him, bringing a fire you can see to his fair eyes as he speaks with determination how he will love all his children equally.

Eomer

✧ Pride glows upon your countenance as you flit about the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the roast you'd made for dinner. A kingly feast is in order, for not only had you heard your husband performed exceptional drills this day, but you yourself are the host of something exceptional. Eomer and you have been enjoying each other's company much these days, so the news is not so much of a shock as it is a celebration, exuberance at a line enduring, two dreams fulfilled as one, especially for your husband, who speaks often of how he longs for a full, boisterous home. Six if he's lucky. Well, you can hardly wait to help him along, pulling Eomer into your arms for an enthusiastic kiss before he can even toe his boots off, and when he chuckles and asks what has taken hold of his beautiful wife you let your news fly. Shouting for joy with abandon, Eomer lifts you up into his arms bridal-style, kissing your lips again and again. Dinner is all but forgotten as he kneels before you, holding your waist and pressing kisses all over the bodice of your dress and thanking you for making his day, nay, his life, perfect.

✧ Eomer is always proud of you, but the moment he finds out you are with child that feeling swells and positively drips off of him, every outing with him suddenly seeming quite like a chance for him to show you off. An arm around you at all times, a smile of great joy and satisfaction, news shared to all who dare make conversation with you both, and even kisses in public! Eomer is simply on top of the world and not a thing will topple his spirits.

✧ As somebody who never much studied the workings of women, though, Eomer is… a bit out of his depth. You will have to teach him some things like why your emotions swing so or what to look out for to know when your water breaks. This man has been in battle, seen heads roll in the most literal sense, and yet when you describe the eventual passing of your placenta his entire face contorts in a look of horror that has you all but doubled over in laughter.

✧ “You look so beautiful with child,” Eomer purrs, “we’ll have to do this again sometime.” You smack his arm, but cannot resist giggling at the way your husband still gives you butterflies.

✧ Your new addition had not even arrived yet and Eomer is commissioning a child-sized saddle, unable to contain his excitement as he describes all their future rides to you!

✧ As you dream up names, Eomer has many suggestions from the great halls of his own people, ancestors and great warriors alike, but making considerations of your own background is equally important to him, so he is more than willing to go back and forth for the perfect solution.

Eowyn

✧ No one had thought it possible, but they should have known. Impossible was not in Eowyn’s lexicon, and that was exactly why you loved her, one part within many of why you became her wife. And now, the healer confirmed you were carrying her child. …Very well, technically her banner-bearer’s child as the two of you had been forced to get a bit creative, but to have support and help from those who had begun with such uncertainty meant the world. Even Eomer had come around, having offered similarly, but of course you had to remind him that Eowyn wanted a child of her own, not a niece or nephew! Without Guthláf’s, er, donation, you would never bear witness to the broad and beautiful smile on your wife’s face, the tears glistening in the gorgeous blue of her eyes. “A child…” “Our child,” you add, leaning forward until your foreheads touched and noses brushed, a tearful smile upon your own face as your wife gently held your waist.

✧ Having worked so many times as a nurse lends well at least to Eowyn, for she is firm and unrelenting in her urging, nay, forcing, you to rest. No ifs, ands, or buts are to be accepted from your strong-willed beauty, let her dote on you, for she does it with great pleasure. And besides, the harder you fight, the harder she'll work to keep you lain down.

✧ Understanding the pain and symptoms of your time of the month completely also translates; thus Eowyn is ready with remedies for your aches and pains, hot water and herbs awaiting you. She rarely snaps back at your moods, choosing to be silent in the worst of times because she knows. Really, she does.

✧ She cooks for you, and whether you say anything about that or not likely depends on how willing to hide your honesty behind the hormone excuse if it is not taken well.

✧ Reminds you constantly how strong you are. In your lowest of moments, the times you struggle to stand and straighten your aching spine, feeling massive and utterly useless, Eowyn is there to hold your hand and tell you that you are hosting and creating life as she so speaks. You have made the ultimate sacrifice of your body and the greatest of pain to bring just as great a blessing to yourself and your wife. Far from useless, you are divine.

✧ “What does it feel like?” Resting her head on her hand, the one that wasn’t lain against your fluttering belly, she questions you as the baby kicks. “For you?” Part of her wishes to have this experience herself someday, while another takes your descriptions with trepidation. She does not enjoy being restricted, after all.

Haldir

✧ “Lie down, please, my love.” Haldir’s concern with your sickness increased daily as did the pain of seeing you feeling so weak and ill. You tried to push through and for as much as he loved your strength, your husband was not having it this time. Pride was not worth seeing you doubled over again, whether from pain or, arguably worse, illness. You relented in the end, resting and beneath the spinning of your head at the end of the day feeling not a seed of energy to protest an inspection. Healing herbs had you perking up a bit, and perked up you needed to be when the dark-haired, round-faced healer nodded sagely and with a wide smile told you you were with child, and these early days were likely to be the worst. For the first time in days the sobs that escaped you were accompanied by a smile, your face utterly breaking as Haldir held you against his chest, weeping too and thanking you for all you would endure for this blessing.

✧ Physically carries you places as often as he can be spared to do so. Lifts you up bridal-style to move you across your home and sits you up before he feeds you. Your illness brings out a tender, caring side you have never seen in your strong, stoic husband, but it makes your heart swell that much more for him and for the life you two are to have with your child.

✧ Another symptom you experience is the aching and swelling of your feet, but Haldir sits you down facing him and makes the best work of them he can, hands gentle as always as they soothe your skin.

✧ Even in the later months as your illness abates, though, your husband remains protective as ever, standing between you and any potential harm with the fiercest look upon his face and a hand upon your middle, even if the threat is an object you’ve hurt yourself on.

✧ The way shock melts into a wide, ecstatic smile unlike your husband’s typical demeanor when the healer repeats that yes, she could definitely hear two heartbeats beside yours is worth more than any gold in the world. Haldir pulls you into his arms, chuckling deeply. You feel his head shake slightly, slowly, atop yours in wonder.

✧ When you sleep, Haldir will always be holding you close, whether it is an arm draped over your bump loosely if you’re hot or need space or else you fully tucked into your husband’s warm embrace.

Galadriel

✧ Galadriel is actually the one who assuages your worries that your dream will not come true, having full faith in you as much as the magic of this world. And she is right, of course, confidence proven in the aid you receive from a member of her guard and even the way she knows it to be true before the healer even confirms the news. As much as she jokes about seeing a glow around you, the width of her beautiful blue eyes, the shine therein, tells you that your wife is as elated to hear it beyond a shadow of a doubt as you are: you are hosting a little life for you both to nurture.

✧ You being pregnant only aids in her mysterious nature. She can be convening in a council with the wisest of minds from afar and will use you as an excuse to step away at her will. "If you will excuse me. My wife is with child." They are not even aware she is married. Some of them may not understand how it all works, but before they can ask any clarifying questions Galadriel has already slipped away to be with you.

✧ One tendency you unwittingly adopt is falling asleep in the oddest of places, your exhausted body giving out upon its own terms. Always will you wake up draped in one of your wife’s shawls or blankets, however, no matter how odd the spot.

✧ Both of you can hardly resist the allure of tiny garments, smiling every time you see them. It also rings a bell of realization within your minds as you hold a tiny gown up to your midsection. Truly as you speak, there is a tiny body within you! What magic it is to be a woman!

✧ What magic indeed, you later reflect as another pain strikes your back not long after. Hosting tiny bodies came with all the assorted blessings and curses of your kind, one not long without the other. Sighing, you make to approach the chaise across the room and soon your wife is with you, moving its drapes aside and lowering you gently to its cushions, a soothing hand tracing up and down your aching spine.

✧ "I hope she looks like you," you both turn to each other and say simultaneously, mothers' intuition firmly aligned in your hearts, from which so much love for each other pours from, Galadriel immediately drawing you closer to press her lips to the crown of your head.

Arwen

✧ Elrond had been quite hesitant about your relationship with his daughter at first- were you the best choice for her? Could someone like you keep her safe? And how, of course, would she be given the child she so desired? Questions you yourself had posed to her, but she refused to listen, telling you her mind, and heart, were sealed. Little do you know, however, that all of Rivendell would come to love you as their own, see and praise the way you cared for Arwen, and in Lindir’s case even provide the healers with a chance at you giving your wife the family you both yearned for. The moment you tell her the healers’ method worked and she is to he a mother, you both are, her features lighten, taking on the wondrous joy of youth again as she grabs your face, falling onto you with a kiss of pure love.

✧ So accusing if you've overexerted yourself, leaning in closer with a look of sometimes-teasing, sometimes-serious scrutiny. "Surely you did not carry that up the stairs all by yourself, right?"

✧ Do not even bother trying to fake feeling up to anything, whatever the task, for Arwen can see right through you and will insist you sit down, taking your hands in hers. "Rest. You have your burden- let me take the others. My heart bears no ill."

✧ Her affection gets softer, light touches to your waist and hands resting over yours. One hand upon your hip or belly and one on your shoulder as you two sway gently, foreheads pressed together.

✧ Arranging your nursery is one of Arwen's favorite pastimes: painting a gorgeous meadow mural upon the wall, stitching a soft toy to lay within the crib, asking you which fabric you prefer for blankets.

✧ Your bundle of joy can make sleep difficult, but one silver lining Arwen points out in a low whisper one morning is how many sunrises you’ve now gotten to share with each other.

Elrond

✧ Reservations about having a fourth child so long after the others disappeared every time Lord Elrond caught sight of you holding a neighbor’s child or even just showing the loving care that had him convinced he would be well even marrying a second time at all. Every smile, every sweet thing you did, all of it came back to Elrond in a rush when you told him he was to become a father again. For once he did not feel too old, too tired, nothing but the elation of his every desire unfurling to him before his very eyes from your warm embrace. To be chosen as the father to your child was the greatest honor the lord of Rivendell could imagine.

✧ Your every ailment is minimal, for Elrond knows exactly what is best for each and every one. Nausea? The perfect tea blend awaits to calm the waves you feel. Aches and cramps? Your husband is happy to give you the most heavenly massage, his hands finding every needed spot as if by magic. A swell of emotion? He does not speak unless bidden to, simply holding you through sudden waves of tears, frustration, or both until he feels your body relax against his.

✧ Being married to an elf with the gift of foresight comes with the benefit of worries soothed, but also a joke shared between you both. For many a time you teasingly chastise him not to look too far and spoil the surprise of whether you have a son or daughter on the way!

✧ Standing behind you, Elrond rests his hands around your middle and presses a kiss to your cheek. Just when you think the bliss of this moment, of having your whole little new family all together within your husband’s arms, cannot increase is when Elrond shifts his hands, taking on the great weight you carry. Peering up into his soft blue eyes, your whole body deflates in a sigh of sweet relief as he holds you.

✧ He can never truly understand your experience, but Elrond has witnessed this process. All he wishes is to tell you all your pain shall pass, even the worst memories will fade and ease, but such words will sound insensitive, so all he does is continue to hold your hand and stand proudly at your side.

✧ One thing your husband cannot resist is showering your future little one with gifts, even jewelry for when they are a bit older and the tiniest circlet to place upon the beloved head, matching Adar's perfectly.

Want to meet the little ones? Part 2 coming soon 😉

Taglist: @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart @kilibaggins @mossthebogwitch @ibabblealot @stormchaser819 @pirate-lord-of-narnia @datglutengoblin @letmelickyoureyeballs @mossyskinn @wordbunch | Message/Reply/Ask to join 🥰

[neiptune]

aot boys x reacting to a dream where you die

a/n: inspired by @meowzfordayz and her wonderful hcs! got a bit carried away lol these are too long but i hope you enjoy anyway :)

eren secretly freaks tf out but is too embarrassed to admit it. you wake up to the pressure of his hands not so subtly traveling across different parts of your belly and hips, the coolness of his fingertips on your bare skin making you shiver. “eren? what're you doing?” you ask, confused, your own hands closing around his wrists to delicately move them away. but he resists your push, his fingers stubbornly finding their way to the familiar albeit faded scar residing right above your hip bone. “sorry. didn't mean to wake you” his voice cracks, which is enough to prompt you to sit up. “tell me what's wrong” you take one of his hands and squeeze twice, your secret way to communicate that everything's fine. eren's big eyes search for signs of distress or pain in yours but all he finds is genuine concern and grogginess. he relaxes and weakly squeezes your hand right back. “bad dream. it's stupid, let's just go back to sleep” but of course you see right through his fake composure and pull him in for a hug, gently hushing the trembling exhale that tickles your neck as his arms close around you. “you're okay” he whispers to himself and you hum in confirmation, nodding against his shoulder. “i am. the only thing truly hurting me is your snoring”. he huffs at that, covertly thankful you're still there to give him a reason to roll his eyes

lol armin will not be there when you wake up in the middle of the night, senses alert bc of the unusually cold, empty spot next to you. he doesn't reply when you call him so you're forced to get up and explore the whole floor, bathroom to study, until you hear some muffled sniffling coming from downstairs and you rush to the living room, heart in your throat. “armin??? are you okay? what happened??” he's curled into himself on the couch but as he hears your voice he lifts his head, heavy groan crawling up from his throat because what the fuck, why are you awake? he hates hates hates the idea of you seeing him like this for the nth time, always so stupid and helpless now with tear stained cheeks too for something that's not even real. “nothing” his defensive tone startles you and he regrets it immediately, sigh heavy as he tiredly rubs his temples, a sign of surrender and vulnerability that draws you in until you're sitting next to him, warm hand closing on his knee. “what if i brew some tea? we still have some cookies left” you speak gently and his gaze softens, guilt already bubbling in the pit of his stomach. “it's 2am” “and?” “you have to work tomorrow” “and??”. so he ends up brewing the tea instead and you simply won't talk about what happened until the next morning, after a fair amount of the night before was spent sharing homemade peanut butter cookies with armin taking your hand to press gentle kisses to your wrist from time to time <3

oh my god jean 100% feels too stupid to mention it or letting a dumb dream upset him once he's awake and can physically see you and touch you as you're making breakfast together, he's also too proud to admit how horrible it felt to see your body get so rigid, your skin too cold, eyes void of their usual light. so he doesn't mention it. but you can tell something is off: he's more attentive than usual (when has he ever pushed you away from the toaster bc you might bet burned?) he's extremely touchy-feely (more than usual lol it's fine for him to have his arms wrapped around you as you're rinsing a fork but not letting go? not even allowing you to turn off the stove, at the expense of his precious eggs, now at risk of charring??) so of course your spider senses detect that something isn't quite right and you interrogate him over breakfast, just as he casually plays with your fingers and quite uncomfortably tries to eat with his left hand. “what d'you mean i'm being weird? that how you accept my unconditional love?” he has you rolling your eyes a number of times before he shrugs with a “had a nightmare last night, no biggie” “did something happen to me?” “yeah, no need to take the piss, i know it's dumb”. a fond smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you shrug as well. “wasn't gonna take the piss. if something happened to you in one of my dreams, i'd probably freak out” “oh thank god” jean forces you up from your chair in a split second and pulls you in the tightest hug in recorded history lol

well connie will definitely blurt it out and attempt to downplay it at the same time lmao don't even get me started you'll wake up and he'd be in the kitchen making coffee greeting you with something like “g'morning! btw i dreamed you died last night hahaha isn't that so stupid??? you were dead dead, like R.I.P you, right in my arms” and you're standing there like 🤨🤨🤨 “i'm glad you thought that was funny?” “so funny, i even cried a little when i woke up haha you were sleeping right next to me and i was tearing up like a dumbass omg did i mention how still you were???” his emotional responses are all sorts of fucked up tbh. connie doesn't always know how to react to things and unexpected situations and complicated feelings bc he's so used to being the cheerful comic relief but somewhere underneath all the sunshine he carries around there's actual fear. connie is actually scared, all the time. of the ocean, of loneliness, of losing those who are dear to him, of being too much and not nearly enough at the same time. he has his own ways of dealing with fear and they're not always ideal. so you delicately take the clutched phone from his hands and peck his lips once, twice, each kiss lasting longer than the former until he takes your face in his hands and just keeps it there, forehead resting on yours. “i'm here. and you're a stupid idiot for calling yourself a dumbass”. he chuckles at that, which makes you smile. “promise you'll stay alive long enough to call me a stupid idiot a million more times?” “yes, if you wash the dishes”

i mean of course levi is mad. lol. at himself, bc he was not able to protect you in his dream and at you bc where tf are you??? he's petrified sitting up in (a very much empty) bed, mentally gives himself 3 seconds before he allows irrational panic to kick in but thank fuck you flush the toilet 1,5 seconds later, wash your hands and come back to your shared bedroom to find the grumpy man you're in love with glaring daggers your way, scowl so deep you hesitate by the door, silently wondering what you did wrong. were you being so tossy and turny you woke him up? did you take more than your share of blankets? did you accidentally punch him in the face? (it has happened and he was surprisingly nice about it lol). “i'm sorry” you blurt out, cautious as you climb onto your bed again, slipping your legs underneath the covers. “what are you apologizing for?” his voice sounds weird, which freaks you out even more. “not sure” you tilt your head “but you look mad”. levi huffs, features softening. “was it sleep kicking? or did i fart? you know edamame gives me real bad gas—” “you did not fart” he runs a hand through his hair, simultaneously exhausted and biting back an incredulous smile. “you died” he blurts it out but saying it out loud sucks so badly that he clenches his fists and you don't really know how to react. “i couldn't do shit about it. you just died. t'was horrible and i know it's not your fault and it was just a dream but...” “i'm sorry i died” your soft reply interrupts his babbling and prompts another snort. “stop apologizing” “what can i do, then?”. levi inspects your features attentively and takes your hand underneath the covers, intertwining his fingers with yours. “promise you won't do it again” he goes along with your silliness and you smile, nose rubbing against his, barely audible whisper of a “promise” before kissing him

porco will never and i mean never tell you what's up lmao his dumbass would rather die than admit a dream has had the power to affect him at all. he's a grown up™ and rational™ enough to discern reality from fantasy and guess what?? his current reality = you roaming around the house to cook, do the laundry, jokingly mock his housework skills as he vacuums rooms missing entire spots and breaks yet another glass in the sink (“stfu the sponge was too damn soapy it slipped” ) but honestly? porco doesn't even notice how much he stares the day after his nightmare. not just in the morning, he literally can't cast his eyes away from you for the entire day. he's 12 so as soon as you mention it he gets defensive lol like you'll be on the couch with your legs on his lap as he watches something on his laptop, you're reading a book and you'll say something along the lines of “ya know you've been staring a lot today” and he'll automatically reply “yeah?? cuz you're ugly” which only confirms your hunch. “don't be an ass, why were you staring??” “just told you?” “porco” “that's my name, don't wear it out” he's so infuriating honestly but eventually your persistence does wear him down enough to elicit one true response: “because i wanted to make sure you're actually here”. you tilt your head, confused frown that makes him bite back a smile. “what does that even mean?? where else would i be? are you high?” “high on you, babe” lmao yeah he won't tell you how horrible and scary and wrong it was to see your body get so still and your eyes suddenly unwilling to open and your hands not squeezing his back no matter how much he screamed and called for you and cursed and cried. why would he? porco can discern reality from fantasy. as you jokingly poke his side with your sock-clad foot and laugh as he grabs it to nibble at your ankle, he's grateful af for his reality :)

reiner instantly wakes you up lol he's too shaken to think straight and can't handle the pounding of his heart nor the cold sweat coating his forehead tbh. you freak out as well bc he looks like shit so you think he's not feeling well -> it's 30 entire seconds of back and forth (“are you okay?” “are you okay??” “why are you shaking???” “why are you sweating????”) until you can sense his stress is about to grow into a full on anxiety attack and you take his giant, cold, clammy hands in yours, squeezing hard enough to ground him. “baby, breathe with me. i'm right here, okay? just like that. deep and slow”. it doesn't matter that he squeezes back hard enough to hurt you. “you're doing great! wanna count with me?”. he closes his eyes and you both count to ten out loud, three times before he looks at you again and the crude fear that was in his gaze is long gone, leaving space to relief and slight embarrassment. “don't apologize” you cut him off right as his lips part “are you okay? can you wait for me? i'll go grab some water and—” he interrupts you right back by slotting his mouth to yours, with a kiss so feverish your brain shortcircuits. deaf to your protests, he will keep murmuring nonsense against your lips, an endless progression of i'm sorry, you're fine, i'm sorry, i love you, thank god, i love you so much. when you're allowed to catch your breath at last he presses one last kiss to your forehead and you're finally able to connect the dots. much like armin, he doesn't enjoy being so weak and emotional so often around you, but he also knows you feel strongly about him being so hard on himself. you won't have it. so reiner silently accepts and is oh so grateful for each sweet reassuring word you whisper to the shell of his ear, knowing all too well that nightmares have nothing on your i'm here and i'm never leaving and i know i'm safe with you

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

XI. I only have eyes for you.

parts: previously plot: it's the day of the bachelor auction. who's taking bruce home? pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: 18+ toward the end (MDNI), surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief violence, sexual content (implied penetration, light dry humping), alcohol consumption, reader is going through it so i personally think they're allowed to be a bit messy, vicki vale slander... a little bit, gcpd slander a lot a bit. words: 8.8k. a/n: it has been a HOT minute and I totally meant to have this out in time for thanksgiving but alas. big girl has big girl responsibilities. regardless, I wanted to say thank you sm for 3k followers!!! ahhh!!! that's so many. love u all

“…Judge Mathers thankfully suffered only minor injuries, and while the culprit has yet to be apprehended, police say they’re confident the investigation will progress in the coming days. Further investigation into just how Mathers was attacked is also ongoing. In other news, Bridge Industries stock has fallen…”

The door to your office swings open, startling you, but Emily is rushing in with arms too full to notice. She shuts the door just as quickly as she’d thrown it open, and as you put the TV on mute, she begins to rattle off frantically, “Are you as excited for tonight as I am?”

If by excited, she meant “stomach turning in knots”, then she’d be right on the money. You ignore her question to point at the plastic bags draping over her arms, “What’s that?”

“With your help? My outfit for tonight.” You watch her gather them both by their hangers and unzip them, revealing two dresses in sparkly red and silky navy. The lighting in your office really fails to do them justice. “What’s Bruce’s favorite color?”

There is—unequivocally—only one answer. “Black.” Her eyelids droop at that, holding the red dress to her chest forlornly, and you rush to amend the situation. “I mean… but who really cares?”

That was not what you meant to say.

What you’d meant to say was that Bruce’s favorite color didn’t matter because Emily ought to dress for herself, and that you didn’t even have the marbles to think about any of this when the news had so thoroughly soured your mood.

Said mood was already fragile by the time you’d had your morning coffee, and in between paperwork and your own thoughts, you’d turned on WGOT for background chatter. It had been just your luck that the very first thing you’d seen was a report on the attempted murder of a local judge. As a Gotham native, these kinds of things don’t easily faze you, but the name had.

Her face had meant nothing to you when it appeared on screen, stern and clear, and her name would’ve meant just as much had you not been poring over Dimitri’s case recently. You never attended Dimitri’s trial, had heard only what Russo and co. had relayed to you, so you’d never had the chance to meet Judge Lydia Mathers or watch as she ruled on the fate of the arrested Vipers. The police weren’t saying who did it, but you knew what was left unsaid. It could be no coincidence.

What threw you for a loop was how it happened. There was no confirmation on the where, and the when being “sometime last night” didn’t narrow anything down. It was sloppy still—that much was evident, she was still alive—but it was also close. Way too close.

As far as you knew, anyone involved in your case that was still in Gotham had been informed beforehand of the threat, and she had the bodyguards to rival your own. How did someone doped up on venom get close enough to almost kill her?

You feel your desk vibrate as you receive a text, your heart speeding up, but you only get a quick glimpse before Emily draws you back in again. “I care. Look, I get that this is your life now and all of this utterly bores you, but this is fun for me. I want to enjoy this, and I want to look good doing it. Just… indulge me, okay? And don’t make fun of me for it.”

The twinge of sadness in her voice makes you wince. It wasn’t Emily’s fault you’d been having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day since the night of Bruce’s party. It also wasn’t her fault that you had yet to be honest about why you really had cops and guards on your tail now, why you couldn’t meet at yours for drinks after work, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that you’d told her the night Dimitri attacked you, you'd actually been targeted by the gang of the guy who took you hostage all those weeks ago. As far as she knew, Mr. Wayne was just taking very, very good care of you.

You’d invited her to this auction to have a fun night out, something you hadn’t had in a while, and if you had to gather some marbles to make it so, you’d do it.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Emily. That came out wrong. I just meant that it shouldn’t matter what he likes because you’re going to look amazing in anything. And if Bruce has eyes, he’ll love how you look in the red.”

She doesn’t look quite as convinced. You see her look over the dress, scrutinizing.

You circle your desk, taking the dresses from her and setting them over the back of a chair. “How about this? I take a picture of both dresses, send them to Bruce, and ask which one he likes more. Won’t even mention you.”

Her eyes widen like saucers. “No! No. Don’t. It’s fine, you’re right. I’ll wear what I want, and I’ll look great in it.” You reach up to pinch Emily’s cheek and she bats at you with a laugh, ducking away to steal her dresses back. “What are you gonna wear?”

“Probably what I wore to our New Year’s party last year.”

“Saucy. You’re picking me up at eight, right?”

“Our ride will be courtesy of Mr. Wayne.”

“Must be nice having a driver and an entourage. Bruce is awfully generous for a patient.”

You think about the paperwork you’d been slogging through before you’d turned on the news, and you don’t have the heart to tell her that by the end of today, Bruce would no longer be your patient anymore.

You wave her goodbye, and when the door shuts behind her, you snatch up your phone to read the message you’d received.

Detective Gordon Can we talk?

Your shoulders slump. You'd hoped it was Bruce. You hadn't heard from him since last night, and after the news, you'd expected... well... anything. Really.

“I saw the news,” You start before James has even breathed a greeting into the phone. “I’m just glad she survived.”

There’s a pause on the other end. It’s long enough that your blood pressure spikes in response, and you assume the worst. “I… actually didn’t call to talk about Mathers. Have you been to your apartment recently?”

“What? No. What happened?”

“There’s been a break-in.”

It’s not the senseless destruction you’d been dreading. Your apartment had looked worse back in residency during finals week. You’d expected overturned couches and pictures knocked off walls, but if it hadn’t been for your very well-documented alibi, no one would’ve guessed there’d been a break-in.

It is clear, however—from the drawers thrown open about your apartment—that someone had been looking for something.

“So, again: the noise started around eleven this morning, and Ms. Fletcher says she came up to check on you since she wasn’t expecting you back without stopping by first-“

“And I was right.” Judith affirms from beside you, clutching her purse with conviction.

The cop who’d been debriefing you narrows his eyes, but otherwise doesn’t comment on the interruption. “Right. So Ms. Fletcher came to investigate. Knocked on the door, nobody answered. She used her copy of your key to get in, looked around and noticed things didn’t look right, called your name, and then saw someone rush past her out of the apartment before she could get a good look at their face. Mr. Fitz next door says he heard someone throwing open cabinet doors just before Ms. Fletcher says she arrived.”

You gnaw the inside of your cheek, eyes flitting over the mugs you’d left drying by the sink. They’re untouched, but the dish towels in the drawer beneath them have been rifled through to hell. “Yeah, the walls are thin in the bathroom. I’m always careful about that.”

“I know Ms. Fletcher said she didn’t see ‘em take anything, but it could’ve been something small. Something they could fit in their pocket or the bag they were carrying. Jewelry, cash, sensitive documents maybe.”

Dimitri didn’t give a shit about any of that, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have left a witness alive if he could help it. If anyone could even possibly identify him, let alone a little old lady, Judith wouldn’t be standing next to you today.

But that left you with more baffling culprits to consider.

You turn to Judith, "Did they look like they were part of any gang?”

Judith shakes her head. She reaches into her purse and pulls out her memo pad, showing you her neat recollection of the intruder. She’d made a marked list: young, wearing a shoulder bag, with nothing in their hands. Short, dark hair. Skinny build. Nervous. The description didn’t exactly strike you as someone looking to hurt you.

Your ears perk up at the conversation behind you, both members of your detail chatting with each other in hushed voices. They don’t do a good job of hiding what they’re saying, and as you listen in, you hear one of them complain about this being a “waste of time”.

You bristle. You catch the cop’s eye, recognizing him as one of the cops working your detail at the hospital the other day, and he turns to survey your living room instead.

James is sidling up to you in the next second, having done his own assessment of the place before you’d arrived. “Your bookshelves got a little rearranging, but nothing destroyed. You wanna take a look?”

You follow the detective through your apartment, poking through everywhere you’d left something even vaguely important, but all the valuables you hadn’t taken to Wayne Tower seemed to be perfectly intact here. You were more miffed about your underwear being strewn about now that that was clear. When you reach your bedroom, the one place void of any cops, you grab some of them off the floor and begin to fold them back into the drawer.

“Could it have been a… I don’t know, a pervert? Could’ve been looking to steal a pair of these.”

“Perverts know where to look. They wouldn’t ransack every drawer just for a pair of underwear.” James’ brow twitches. “At least we know it's not Dimitri. He'd have come here himself. But this? Whatever our guy was looking for, they knew you wouldn’t leave it in plain sight. It’s just… sloppy.”

You scratch your head, hoping some clue would reveal itself the longer you looked. A muddy footprint, a bloody knife, a syringe. Something. It was relieving not to see the last one, at least.

You glance around your room, at the drawers thrown open. You think about the front door (locked, Judith had to use her key) and how, if you didn’t want anyone to know what you were doing, you wouldn’t force your way in. You’d be quiet, pick a lock, put everything back where you found it. But if you couldn’t find what you were looking for, you'd be desperate. You'd make mistakes.

You feel James watch you from where you’re crouched on the ground, tucking away the last of your clothes into the drawer. You notice him knocking his pen repeatedly against his kneecap. “So, Mathers.”

You glance up at James. “It was him, wasn’t it?” James nods, solemn. “Where did it even happen? There’s no way he could’ve gotten into Bristol—let alone a guarded mansion—without getting caught.”

“She wasn’t in Bristol.”

“So, what? The courthouse? Her office?” You slam your drawer shut, drawing attention from the cops outside your bedroom door.

James notices. He turns and shuts the door, sealing you off from the rest of the apartment, and comes to take a seat on the edge of your unmade bed. There’s a severity to him all of a sudden. “It happened at the Iceberg Lounge.”

You’d heard things about the Iceberg Lounge. Loud, dark, dirty. As exclusive as any other shitty nightclub in Gotham. Somewhere a guy like Dimitri could slip into easily if he wasn't mid-high. “He’s attacking in broad daylight now? Then he… he doesn’t care if he’s caught. He’s losing it. He’s-“

“It wasn’t broad daylight, either. The lounge is one thing but there’s another layer to it, a club beneath the club for people like… like Gil Colson. 44 Below. It’s high-profile, hard to get into, a safe place to do dirty business. It’s where he found Mathers.”

Your mind reels. You remembered Gil Colson. You found him quite hard to forget. “He found her there? How?”

“Impersonated a waiter, maybe. Could've known someone who could get him in. All we know is that he couldn’t have been on venom at the time. He would've been tweakin', there’s no way he could’ve gotten in without someone noticing and those exclusive type joints don't really like the look of venom. He planned this out.”

“…Why was she there?”

James glances at your closed door, as if worried someone might be pressed up against it, listening. “I can't say much yet, but if we're right, Dimitri's only one of many kids like him who've been screwed over by Mathers.”

“We, meaning…” You trail off, and James nods once. “He wasn’t- I haven’t heard from him since last night.”

“Knowing him, he's probably looking into it right now.” James rises to his feet, then holds a hand out to help you up. “Until then, don’t go anywhere alone. This is heat Dimitri wasn't prepared for, which either means he’ll hide like before or he’ll be desperate to finish the job. And please, for the love of God, don’t talk to any more press.”

Your eyes flick up to James’ as soon as “press” slips from his lips.

You shoot up from the ground, rushing back into the living room where Judith’s reprimanding the cops from earlier. The second you breeze past her, she spins, reaching for your arm. “There you are. Where’s Mr. Gordon? These young men were complaining about—”

You know what they were complaining about. You almost—almost—unleash the mounting anger inside you onto the both of them, but that would be a waste. “They can stay here for all I care. I need to go.”

Both cops look about ready to protest, but Judith beats them to it. “Go where? What if whoever did this is waiting for you? What if they try to hurt you? What if-“

“She can try. I’m sure someone will get it on camera.”

Your detail doesn’t abandon you like you hoped, but they can barely keep up as you barrel through the doors of the Gazette, nearly mowing down an intern on the way inside.

There are rows of desks on either side of the newsroom, lined up against each other with computer screens illuminating the faces of tens of reporters. You scan each row, each wired and restless face, in the hopes of catching sight of Vicki Vale.

You’re about halfway through the room when someone catches you by the arm, barring you further entry.

She’s small, but her razor-sharp stare is enough to freeze you in your tracks. For now. “Can I help you?” She asks, looking you up and down, a swirl of curiosity laced within the stiffness of her tone. Her badge hangs against her chest, and you see the word "editor" printed beneath her name. Perhaps she wanted to know what story you were about to tell.

“I’m looking for Vicki Vale.”

She isn’t dumb. The way she straightens at Vicki’s name, the disdainful way you say it, means you've told her everything she needs to know about you. You feel her grip tighten around your upper arm and you know she’s going to make this difficult. “Is she expecting you?”

“It’d be stupid of her not to.”

You don’t think she knows. Her nose crinkles at that, and when she feels you begin to resist her, she scrambles to keep you in place, “Vicki’s busy—“

You don’t need to hear the rest of what she has to say, knocking into her shoulder as you shove past her. If Vicki was busy, you’d free up her schedule.

You turn a corner and there’s a long hallway of offices on either side of you. You begin reading each door’s placard for her name, your patience thinning as the bustle of keyboard clacks and voices crescendo. You almost don’t pick up on her voice at first, a shrill and nervous thing through the crack of a door to your left. You shove it open before you give it a second thought.

And there is Vicki, a once-neat bun falling apart as she levels that same French-tipped fingernail at a stranger on the other side of her desk. They both turn to you in shock.

You don’t immediately notice it, seeing only red with Vicki, but you take in the stranger’s dark buzzed hair, slim cheeks, and… messenger bag. There’s a lanyard hanging from their neck with a smiling badge just like the one Vicki flashed you the other day. Their name is… something. You’re too furious to read it.

You beeline for Vicki’s neck.

She sputters when you take hold of the collar of her suit jacket, shoving her up against the wall where her journalism degree sways on the nail, threatening to slip and shatter against the floor. You hold her there. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

Her lips part, pleas and excuses pathetically falling flat at your feet. You’ve never seen her scared, and something buried deep inside you preens for just a second. She tries to stutter something out, but it’s nothing discernible, nothing proper.

The stranger—who you’re certain now is her intern—grabs at your arm to pull you away, but you shove them off, holding Vicki steady. You hear the editor from before too, shouting something from the door to the office. You shake Vicki again, “You’ll do anything for a story, right? Including breaking into my home?”

“It’s not—” Vicki gasps, grasping at your hand. “I didn’t!”

“She didn’t, it was me! It was my idea!” The intern tugs on you again. “I swear, she… Ms. Vale told me to look into you but she never told me to go that far, it was all my idea. Please.”

Through your anger, you inspect the kid’s face and... yeah, to your utter despair, you feel certain they’re telling the truth.

They look more beaten up about it than you expected. It saps nearly all the rage right out of you, leaving you deflated but still boiling under the skin. Your hands slacken and Vicki inches off the wall a little bit, freezing when your eyes cut to her, and she holds her own hands up in surrender. “I was… I was just telling the kid off when you came in. Honest.”

After a few moments of catching your breath, you motion to the intern’s bag. “You didn’t steal anything off me, did you?”

“No,” they stutter, “no, I wasn’t… I just wanted to see if there was something… a lead to go off of. And then the old lady saw me, so I bolted.”

Vicki huffs. “I don’t know where he got the idea, but it wasn’t from me. I have more integrity than that.”

The woman at the door watches on with rage almost comparable to yours, and you wonder if Vicki is actually telling the truth or saving face. You spin to face Vicki again and she winces. “I’d think about what kind of example I'm setting if the kid thought this was even remotely okay. Don’t come near me again unless you want me to really knock some sense into you.”

You release her, and it takes a little more composure than you thought not to send her reeling into the file cabinet next to you.

One of your detail is hovering outside of her office when you come out, barely meeting your eyes as you make your way back out into the newsroom. He follows dutifully to the door, stretching to hold it open for you as you stomp out into the street.

Bruce’s guard is waiting by his car when you approach, going to open the door for you, and as you go to duck inside, the cop sidles up to you with a wobbly smile. “Didn’t know you had it in you, doc.” He jests.

You’ve got one foot in the car, one hand on the roof, and you really can’t help it when you look him in the face and spit out: “Fuck you.”

“Jesus. What is your life these days?”

The horrified look Emily gives you affirms your decision to pregame in the car, taking a swig from her flask on the way to the venue. “This isn’t even the worst thing to happen to me this week.”

It comes out before you have a chance to stop it, and the way Emily perks up makes your heart stop. After the night you were attacked by Dimitri, you had been extra careful about what you tell her. You wished you could say it wasn’t because you didn’t trust her with your past, but every time Alex’s name sat heavy on the tip of your tongue, you could not bring yourself to confess.

From the day those records had been sealed, you had done your best not to talk about it. Your past was always glazed over with vague stories of teenage-typical rebellion, Alex’s life omitted from your own as if you hadn’t seen it snuffed out right in front of you. It was easier that way, you figured. You promised you would never go back to that life, and you couldn’t if it never existed.

But like all wounds left untreated, the infection spread and spread beneath the surface until you could ignore it no longer. Until Dimitri came along to force it back open.

You hadn’t confided in anyone like you did Bruce. Bruce, who you still hadn’t heard from all day.

“Did something else happen?”

Your thumb strokes the polished steel of her flask and, after a few seconds of deliberating, you respond. “Bruce fired me today.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re shitting me. Today? When?”

You take another swig, sinking back into the leather seat. “This morning. I signed the papers first thing.”

"That's crazy. You’re an amazing doctor. And you both got along so well! Why—“ Emily frowns, cutting herself off.

“It wasn’t anything personal. After I was attacked again by that gang and Vicki found me out, we both thought he should find a more… exclusive doctor. For his own privacy and safety.” The lies come easy, and you’re drinking down the bitter feeling until the flask starts feeling light. “He’s letting me borrow his guards until they catch the guy who attacked me the other night, at least."

Emily watches you from the corner of your eye and you get the feeling she has something she wants to ask, but she settles on an impressed whistle. “Wow. He’s… really generous. How is he still single? He's gotta be a playboy, be honest.”

Should you even tell her he wouldn't be single after tonight? You remember Bruce's promise to introduce you as his date, and your stomach flips. You glance at her. “Answering that could technically be a HIPAA violation, so...”

She slaps your shoulder, but the way she tucks her face into her hair tells you everything you need to know.

Bruce is... nowhere to be seen.

You try not to make it seem like you’re looking for him, but after networking for a half-hour, your stomach turns at every black suit that squeezes by. You’d even gotten desperate enough to message the… Bat-Phone?—You hadn’t asked if that was what he wanted you to call it—but there was no response. It didn’t help that you’d spotted Vicki Vale five minutes ago, skulking through the crowd but keeping a wide berth from you. You supposed it was the singular mercy she could grant you. Her intern was, unsurprisingly, not in tow.

When you did introduce yourself, you introduced yourself as you—the general surgeon, a representative on behalf of Gotham General—and kept whatever small talk you could about Bruce to a minimum. Batman, however…

“Honest to God, I don’t know what else it’ll take. Does he need to stop a bus of orphans from driving off a bridge? All anyone has to say these days is that if he were any good, the city would be safer by now. Rome wasn't built in a day!” Your opinionated companion is the mother of one of the bachelors tonight. She’d proudly declared her son the most eligible: a 6’1 firefighter who’d worked his way out of Crown Point and had graced the GCFD’s firefighter calendar as Mr. December four years in a row. She even had pictures to show you, painstakingly scrolling through her smartphone that looked like she’d just pulled it out of the box.

She’d taken up the seat next to you after drinks were served, and had no intention of moving any time soon.

“People are fed up,” you reply, watching guests laugh and take photos with Mr. December by the open stage, “after that Riddler guy flooded the city, it was like a wake up call. People realize they have to rely on a stranger to keep them safe. Not the GCPD. Just someone who cares.”

Felicia—that was her name, and it took a great deal to remember it after she’d thrown it at you so haphazardly—rolls her eyes. “Well I, for one, am glad someone cares. If they didn't, you wouldn't be here and neither would I.” Her hand closes around yours and you feel a disgusting ache. It's the same ache you feel when Judith fusses over you: affection that was freely given.

The auction eventually starts, and while you try not to make a habit of it, you begin checking both phones under the table every so often for something. At one point, Emily accuses you of checking up on a partner she doesn't know about. That gets you to keep your hands to yourself for the first half of the night.

It's at least to your relief that Mr. December lives up to the hype.

He’s charming and cuddly, a real mama’s boy, and the bids go flying without further ado. He goes for a nice sum to a handsome man in a velvet suit, and Felicia leaves when they do.

The next few bachelors go by with varying levels of excitement, but with each bid, you feel yourself getting antsier. You sneak a peek at both phones again, but there’s still no response.

You start to expect him not to show up all, or to have called in an understudy to fill in for him while he scaled rooftops. You’d kill him if he left you hanging after all this, after he insisted you come. After he told you he’d introduce you as his real date. After he expedited that contract termination to the literal day of—

“You okay? You keep shaking your leg.”

Emily’s voice brings you back to. Your eyes had been burning holes into Dr. Dreamy in the lab coat, but you hadn’t processed anything about him in your frustration. You still your legs, trying not to flush with embarrassment, “Yeah, sorry. It’s just been a long day.”

Her brows pinch. “Is... whoever you're waiting to hear from being a problem? Do we need to head outside for a breather?”

“And miss your shot at Bruce? No way.”

The worry in her eyes doesn’t go away, but you don’t miss the little bit of relief she lets slip through.

Dr. Dreamy comes and goes, and it's getting closer to the end of the night with no sign of Bruce. The others at your table theorize they might be saving him for last. You check your phone every minute now, the incessant nagging at the back of your mind growing more prominent as the hour stretches on. You start to wonder if he's scaling those rooftops at all, or if he's bleeding out in an alleyway with no one to care. Perhaps he had been for hours, wilting away in silence, while you sat in this silly outfit at this silly auction waiting for him to show.

Minutes drag. The fifth bachelor takes the stage. Bids are placed. The fifth bachelor goes off with a pair of friends.

The auctioneer takes to the mic, and Bruce's name sets off a ringing in your ears. There's excited applause. Emily hoots and hollers. You hold your breath waiting for him to come out, to just put your nervous thoughts to rest.

You wait. And wait. And wait.

The smile on the auctioneer's face slips some. He looks off to stage left, mouthing something to someone behind the curtain. Applause turns to murmurs, and the jazz band that'd been playing low in the background picks up the volume. You look down at your phone one last time, at the messages left unanswered. The auctioneer laughs into the mic, "Sorry about that, folks. It seems our sixth bachelor is running a little late—"

You slip out of your seat, rushing down the aisle between rows of confused guests, the flip phone nearly crushed in your iron grip as you begin to dial the only number it knows.

You make it to the double doors at the back of the convention hall, both ushers on either side of the exit moving to open them for you, and as the phone begins to ring against your ear (heart thumping in tandem), that's when you hear it.

The audience is so loud that you can't hear the ringing or the thumping anymore. The auctioneer's voice just barely peaks over the raucous jazz band. You turn, one foot across the threshold, and see him center stage.

You almost want him to look pitiful. You want his hair to be drenched from the rain, suit askew, bloody knuckles and coal still clinging to his eyelashes: the very image of late and sorry and embarrassed for making you wait for him. But he's not. He's breathless, sure, but he looks less like he missed his train and more like he'd been having a few at the open bar. His suit is crisp, his hair neatly slick with one strand delicately—stylishly, infuriatingly—dipping into his eye. He smiles in apology at the crowd and his docility is not like the kind he displayed at the mayor's party, insincere as it had been.

And it overwhelms you that you feel, above the frustration… relieved.

You realize your phone is still ringing and the ushers are waiting for you to make a decision, so you end the call and head back to your seat where Emily immediately pounces on you. "Is everything okay? You almost missed him."

You tuck the flip phone away and put on a smile.

"And that, gentlepeople, is what we call being fashionably late." The auctioneer gets a round of laughter out of the crowd for that one. Even Bruce chuckles good-naturedly. "I almost had to step in for you myself, Bruce!"

"You are quite the catch." The crowd laughs harder, flattering him, already enraptured in his spell. You seek out his hands but he keeps them tucked politely behind his back.

"Oh, I disagree. No offense to our other fabulous bachelors, but I think I can confidently say you're the one we've all been waiting for. Am I right?" Emily stands in applause, whooping with her hands cupped around her lips. The edge from waiting for Bruce to show ebbs as you watch her. "Before we start the bidding, we ask all our bachelors to tell us a little bit about themselves. So, Bruce, what's the exclusive? What makes you one of Gotham's most eligible bachelors?"

Bruce looks out into the crowd, eyes sweeping over... everyone that isn't seated at your table. A grin plays at his lips, "I was told by our generous sponsor that I was alarmingly handsome, but those were his words, not mine."

"Oh, yes. Alarmingly handsome, alarmingly rich, and you even give to charity. But besides the obvious," the auctioneer leans in, brandishing a friendly smile, "What else can our bidders know? To help them make the tough decision to bid on you, of course."

"Well... I enjoy the rain and watching the sunset above the city."

"Above the city! Are we talking spontaneous helicopter rides here? Because if that isn't romantic, I don't know what is." Bruce doesn't clarify. He continues to grin, though it feels more private this time. Your finger twitches against your thigh. "What about any secret talents you can show us?"

Bruce thinks for a moment. You watch him straighten up, and without moving any closer to the auctioneer, you watch him remove one of his hands from behind his back. In it is a key ring that looks wholly unfamiliar to you. Bruce holds it up to the light, letting them plink! plink! plink! against each other as he dangles them before the auctioneer. "Do quick fingers count?" You watch the auctioneer's eyes widen, and though he laughs, it's tinged with a nervous air.

The auctioneer snatches the key ring from Bruce and stuffs it into his pocket, and the crowd is laughing so loudly that you barely hear him ask Bruce when he'd had the chance to swipe them. Bruce does not answer. That forces a shocked laugh out of you.

"Right, well, I'd be worried about you taking my car for a spin, but I'd be more impressed if you got it to start." You notice the auctioneer placing a little more distance between himself and Bruce as he continues, "One last question before we start the bidding: Bruce, what's your idea of a perfect date night?"

He really thinks about this one. You buzz, and so does Emily. You don't know why you're so interested to know. "A bit cliche, but I enjoy a quiet night in. Cooking together, listening to a record, enjoying each other's company. I've never been the fancy type. It means the most to me if it's just... us. No one else."

You sit up in your seat, and Bruce's eyes flicker near you. Past you. As if on purpose. You feel Emily rest her hand on your knee and you see her starstruck, eyes twinkling, but before you can see if Bruce is looking back, they're moving onto the next question.

You don't hear it. You see smiling mouths, the rumble of laughter on the breeze. Stage lights blink off his eyes, off his teeth as they shine at the crowd.

"A quiet night in. Cooking together..." It was cliche. Entirely unoriginal. You'd done it before, as had the majority of the dating population. It was simple, not fussy. Not special.

And yet.

It had not been long since you bumped shoulders with Bruce in his very own kitchen, cooking together, fingers colliding in the sudsy sink as you dried dishes and poured wine. The way lovers did, or the way almost lovers would.

The auctioneer quiets down the swoons that roll through the room at... whatever Bruce had said. "Alright, I think everyone's had enough of me tonight. Let's do what we came here to do, folks! We'll start the bidding at—"

Paddles soar into the air before the first number is spoken, and you're overwhelmed by the shouting overlapping as bidders fight to place highest. Emily is jumping out of her seat to be on top every time, and as the number steadily grows, your mind is still reeling.

You grip the fork on your plate, dinner having gone cold an hour and a half ago. You dig the prongs into the flesh of an uneaten brussel sprout as the bids begin to thin out, Emily rising above them all.

But you hear the last number and the sudden silence beside you. You look up to see Emily teetering, hesitant, as an elegant woman across the way stands with her paddle triumphantly in the air. The auctioneer asks for a higher bid, and your stomach twists at the quiet. Emily is not raising her hand.

"Going once..."

You turn your head to her, seeing the dejection in her eyes.

"Going twice..."

Bruce's smile is statuesque.

You grab Emily's paddle and jump to your feet, doubling the bid.

The elegant woman stutters on a retort, floored by the jump in number, and seems to weigh the cons of one-upping you. Your bid goes once, goes twice, and she settles back down into her seat.

The auctioneer whistles loud. "Sold! To the... lovely lady in red and her friend."

Bruce finally looks at you.

"So, just to confirm, you'll be the one paying the bid for number 26?"

You sign off the check with a flourish, ignoring the scary amount of zeros tacked onto it. “Yep.”

“And you understand the date is only valid for the name attached to the bid number? In this case, Emily Madison.”

“100%.”

The woman you hand the check to looks it over a few times, and you’d be offended if you hadn’t written down the absurd number yourself. Finally satisfied, she smiles at you, “Thank you. This will feed a lot of families this holiday season.”

It would, and it would make looking at your bank account later sting a little less.

You find Emily at the front of the stage, posing with Bruce for pictures, and the smile on her face warms you up enough that you almost—almost—ignore that recurring, uneasy feeling in your stomach.

As if she could sense you, Emily turns and finds you in the crowd, eagerly waving you over between photos. You think the meek hand you put up will be enough to deter her, but she continues to wave so fervently that it catches the attention of everyone else. You slip onto stage beside her just as Bruce's eyes flit over to you.

After two more pictures, Emily locks her arm against your side, "You are the best."

You glance up at Bruce to find him already staring at you, the stage lights casting a warm honey glow against the halo of his hair. It angers you how good he looks right now. If you were right and he'd just come off a Bat shift before getting here, you would actually be furious. "I'm sure Bruce would have been beside himself if you didn't win, especially after inviting you personally."

He nods, placing a hand on Emily's bare arm, and you watch her short-circuit in real time. "It's true. Although, I will say, that last bid was a shock. For a second, I thought..." Bruce trails off, cutting his eyes to you.

"I get enough of you at work." You almost say home instead. "Sir."

Emily snorts. Bruce's eyes flash, but all he does is grunt.

You watch him turn fully to Emily, "The organizers are the ones who finalize time and place, so I'll eagerly await our next meeting. It was a pleasure seeing you again, Dr. Madison." And, in a rather rakish move, goes to kiss her knuckles in a gentle bow. When his fingers curl around hers, you see the skin of his knuckles unbroken.

You can't help yourself. The second he pulls away, you snatch his hand in yours and shake it firmly, catching the both of them off guard. "Thanks for inviting us, Mr. Wayne. I can't wait to hear all about what you cook together." You press your thumb into his skin and swipe it across the back of his hand before walking away, a flustered Emily trailing after you a few paces behind.

On the way out, you rub your thumb against a dark, pressed napkin. It comes away with a cream smear.

"Is that-"

"It's me." You drop your things by the front door, shutting and locking it soon after. "No need to kick the door down."

Judith sighs through the phone. "What did Mr. Gordon say? Is it safe for you to be back?"

"The punk that broke in was some reporter's intern and he got quite the talking to, he won't be back. I'm just grabbing some stuff before I take off." You balance your phone between your shoulder on the way to the kitchen pantry. "And my detail's right outside. They'll come in if they hear anything."

"Do you want company?"

Your heart breaks a little bit. You know you ought to say yes; you hadn't had much time alone with her since you'd left, and you already felt terrible for up and leaving her by herself, but the last thing you want is to be around anyone. "No... no. I have to run soon, anyway. I don't want you to make the trip. Plus it's late."

It was late. It was nearing midnight, if your microwave could be trusted.

"That's why I offered, child."

"We can do lunch sometime instead."

You hear Judith pause on the other end, can feel her weighing the pros and cons of arguing further with you, but eventually she relents. "Alright. Be safe. Don't be stupid."

You hang up soon after, and another glance at your phone lets you know that Emily had made it home safe. You shoot off a goodnight text and set it aside, letting yourself lean into the sink-side with the full weight of the day on your shoulders.

The memory of Vicki's intern makes you wince. Vicki makes you wince. Your mind barely brushes over the topic of Dimitri and Judge Mathers before you're leaning over the sink and flipping the faucet on. You cup cold water to your lips, flushing out the wine from dinner.

Dinner, which you'd eaten only half of.

You hadn't slept in your own bed in days, and now you were loathe to. Strangers had been through here. You felt the need to scrub the hardwood until their footprints went away, to tidy until it looked like it did when your life was normal. When you didn't instinctively look to that living room window.

Bruce probably wondered where you were. Or maybe he was out again, back to saving lives, being busy. You feel a pettiness arise in you over knowing that he was out there, doing exactly as you'd expect (and even want) him to do, and yet in the short amount of time you'd gone without hearing or seeing from him, you'd experienced the full range of human emotion.

Maybe it also didn't help that Bruce had been the one to bring you into his world, and yet he'd sent his lawyer to deliver the severance agreement.

But you still live in his house. You know his secret, a secret he has told no more than one person. You sleep a few doors down from him every night. You've touched those scars on his stomach, on his back. Your hand has slipped beneath the armor where seldom anyone else has gone. What do you have to be upset about, really? What are you compensating for?

Your breath hitches. A heavy presence settles behind you, and someone shuts off the faucet.

You get lightheaded. Had the water been so loud that you hadn't heard someone enter, or your thoughts so consuming? You're still bent over, still clutching the sink, and you know that you're screwed from this angle no matter how you spin it.

A hand travels from your shoulder, fingers dangerously close to the neck, only for the hand to pull you up and turn you into their arms. It's Bruce—or Batman, rather—as he levels his severe gaze on you. You're still lightheaded, so you don't say anything.

You think he's going to say something, but all he does is let the hand on your shoulder slip away, leaving burning skin behind. Water runs from your lip down to your chin. Before you can, Bruce is slipping off his glove to wipe it away with his thumb. "Vicki didn't come anywhere near me tonight."

At the mention of her name, your hackles raise. "Her intern broke into my place. Did you know about that, too? Since you keep tabs on people like her?"

Bruce's eyes darken. You see the muscles in his jaw tighten. A few beats pass in which you stare him down, and he circles around an answer before he settles on the only one he can manage. "When?"

"This morning. Gordon came by, thought maybe it might've been Dimitri but... didn't have the right stink. So I paid her a visit." His eyes flicker around your face as you try to remain impassive. "Guess I must've scared her real bad, huh?"

You slip past him, kicking off your shoes by the door. You had a feeling this conversation would be a long one.

"I'm sorry. She's... never gone that far before."

You scoff. "Not your fault you were busy hunting the guy that wants to kill me," you say, and you mean it truthfully, but it still comes out bitter, "and it was the kid's fault, being stupid."

You feel Bruce's eyes trained on you, trying to pick you apart from behind. You feel him assessing every step you take to the living room, your eyes finding the window cracked open, letting in a chilly breeze.

"I'm sorry for being late." His apology is quieter as he makes his way into the room, keeping a sizable distance between you.

"I can't have you at my beck and call, can I?" Your question lingers in the air. You turn to look at him and see him working his jaw, thinking. "But it was... kind of embarrassing. I agonized over what I should say to Emily, if it would hurt her feelings, ruin her night even. And then you didn't show and I thought it was good, maybe for the best. But then you were late and I got... worried. Because I hadn't heard from you all day. And I had a really shit day.

"It crossed my mind that something could have happened to you, and I was seconds away from going to look for you when you suddenly appeared like nothing happened. I was relieved, it's just..." You feel that anger coming back, and however irrational, you level your gaze on Bruce's. "A quiet night in? You couldn't look at me once on that stage, but you had the gall to say—" You laugh. Bruce's head tilts just so, still watching you. "Is that what you wanted? My attention?"

In the back of your mind, you know it's unfair to do this now. For all you know, he hadn't taken a second to breathe after the news on Mathers broke. He'd done the same the night Russo was attacked. You were interrogating him like he'd thrown you to the wolves, and not like you'd just gone without him for a little longer than usual.

But you've had a shit day—really, a shit month—and there wasn't a liquor strong enough to soothe your wounds. You were prey, desperately clinging to some sense of control. Of course you were angry! "Anger" didn't feel like the right word for it, though, now that you really thought about it.

No, it was close. Eerily similar. Burning just as hot.

You stalk toward him. "Did you hope it was my number? Did you want it to be me?"

And this—you think—this enigma you've unraveled, has been at the center of everything. For better or for worse, you'd sealed your fate that night on your living room floor.

You think that if anyone were to fix this, it should be him.

Bruce is trying to figure out what to do. You can see the wheels turning. He's still, something in his eyes reaching for you. The thought of what it might be... oh. You're not angry.

You grab the back of his neck and bring his lips to yours, swallowing the tiny breath he releases into your mouth.

You feel him hesitate, but it's only for a moment. A moment long enough to make your stomach flip with budding regret—guilt at your own recklessness—but it's crushed beneath Bruce's heel when he gathers you into him by the waist, bordering on desperate for contact. The hand that had wiped the water from your chin cups your cheek now, and it's for the better because when he starts kissing back, it feels like he's trying to eat you alive.

You maneuver him away from the kitchen, following after him as you bump the wall, narrowly avoiding the heavy weight of Bruce's boots until you feel the plush of your rug beneath your feet. A thought forms in your head.

You press down on Bruce's shoulders until he gets the hint. His knees hit the floor, his lips separating from yours with a wet pop! and the ragged sound of his rough breathing. Bent at the waist, you pull back enough to see him looking up at you, hands still grasping for your hips. You don't like not being able to see all of his face right now, and so you slip your fingers underneath the neck of the cowl and tug it off, revealing his tousled hair that had looked so perfect earlier. You were the only one to see him like this. Your chest swells with pride.

You pry his hands off you and place them on his own waist instead, keeping his gaze the entire time. "Off."

Your command is but a whisper, and Bruce takes a second before he's peeling off his chest plate and utility belt and gloves, and eventually the under suit is hanging open at his hips like it had at your kitchen table not so long ago. He sits so pretty on his knees, chest flushed, waiting for you.

There are new scars on his skin. There would always be new scars. As your eyes trace each one, you almost laugh. His bullet wound stares back at you.

You shove him onto his back.

He falls to the ground with a thud and as you're straddling him, you hear a knock at the door. Bruce's hands pause in finding your hips as a voice carries through. "Hey, uh... you alright in there?"

It's the cop who couldn't be assed to look after you. "Yes." You hiss.

"You sure? Look, I know earlier—"

"Please fuck off." Bruce makes a noise from beneath you. When you look down at him, his eyes are lit up like they were at the auction. His hands finally settle on you, locking you against him, and a thrill rises within you. You wait for the silence outside to follow, and then you speak, hushed. "You never answered my question."

Bruce blinks away the haze settling over him, "What?"

"You wanted it to be me. You like when I... look at you. When I see what no one else sees. You like my attention or you wouldn't keep coming back." Your finger traces his bullet wound and you see his lips purse before any sounds could sneak past them. Your other hand travels up his chest, reaching until you can feel the edge of his stab wound.

Bruce's eyes narrow. You almost think you've struck the wrong nerve. "And you like looking at me."

You sink your weight against his lap and his eyelashes flutter.

You feel one of his hands sink into your hair when you bend to kiss the fading scars along his chest, feel his hips buck off the floor a little when your tongue presses into a purpled bruise. "We have to be quiet," you chasten, "I hear you pay your security well."

Bruce's breath warms the top of your head and he angles you away from his skin, eyes singling in on your puckered mouth. His other hand plays at your hip, fingers rubbing back and forth through the material until his fingers slip underneath and find the hem of your underwear. You shiver. His finger hooks underneath the hem and pulls teasingly, drawing a muted whimper out of you. "I'm sure you're creative enough to find a way."

Your eyes flicker to his. You rut your hips against his own for good measure, watching his jaw tick in an attempt to stay silent. "For me or for you?" Then, you begin to slip down his thighs, your kisses passing his navel and getting closer and closer to where his under suit still clings to skin. You feel something bump your chin.

The hand in your hair tightens just so. You feel lightheaded again.

You move back just as he sits up. You see the paint around the crease of his eyes beginning to run a little bit, the fingers stuck in your underwear now tugging with an urgency.

a/n: if I had a nickel for every time I wrote reader getting upset with bruce at a public function only to makeout with him when they got home i would have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice right. anyway bruce used ur underwear as a gag happy holidays

[grandline-fics]

Forget-Me-Not

DESCRIPTION: Sometimes things happen beyond our control. After an accident occurs your relationship with Zoro is turned on its head and changed forever.

WARNINGS: nothing comes to mind for this one

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 2,572

A/N: The next chapter is here. I hope you all enjoy and have a good weekend

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four (here) | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven(coming soon)

———————

The island was drawing closer now and the entire crew couldn’t help but recall what befell them the last time. As much as they tried to look at this as the next exciting part of their adventure they still couldn’t shake the image of your injured, limp body being carried in Zoro’s arms. No one wanted to go through that again but at the same time they knew this was the life they’d chosen and danger was part of that decision. So in the middle of their lunch, conversation turned to the set plan for this island visit. 

“Thankfully from what I can see with this island, it’s populated. I can make out a dense cityscape so we can actually buy supplies we’ve been rationing.” Nami said, setting a quick sketch she’d made of the island. Even for a preliminary outline it was still detailed enough for the crew to get a better idea of what they were in for. “And because there’s a city we have to expect a Marine presence. So we need to be careful.” 

“So who’s staying on Sunny first?” Sanji asked tentatively as he lit another cigarette. Usually it would spark a debate over who would go but now there was a hesitancy amongst them all, even Luffy who still had the usual excitement light his eyes at being in a new place didn’t immediately declare he wanted to explore as much as he clearly wanted to. The group slowly looked to Zoro who continued to eat his meal, not participating in the conversation. 

“Well I know where I’ll be.” Your voice sounded dryly from the doorway, drawing everyone’s attention. They weren’t used to you leaving the medical quarters but here you stood with your empty dishes in hand. With careful steps you walked to the sink and began to wash up. “Unless you’re going to actually let me leave the ship?” 

“You’re not our captive, you can go onto the island with us!” Luffy grinned, only for his smile to falter when you looked over your shoulder and eyed him carefully, still not trusting him. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to explore?”

“And when I want to go home?” You asked, turning off the water and turning to face the apparent Captain of this group. Your stare was hard and your mouth was set in a firm line, his was the only answer you wanted to hear at this moment. Despite his relaxed nature, if he was any kind of leader, whatever he said was to be followed by the rest of his crew. “If we go on that island and I don’t want to come back here. What then?”

“By that island’s not your home…” Luffy frowned seriously. “Sunny’s your home, you said so.”

“According to you.” You dismissed with narrowed eyes. “Answer my question. Am I allowed to go home. To my island.”

“Uuugghhh but that’s so far away it’ll take forever!” Luffy groaned out like a child being told it was his bedtime, his inability to take your question seriously was making you angry and you hand to reach behind you to grip the countertop to stop yourself from rushing over and smacking him senseless. “If you want to go back we can’t stop you. Nami, you know the way right?”

Nami froze at Luffy’s willingness to take you home to your island given how confident he was that your memories would return and everything would go back to normal. However at his question so slowly nodded. As much as she had secretly hoped Luffy’s stubbornness and selfishness would win out and he’d insist you stayed with them, she couldn’t go against him or lie. Not over this. 

“Yeah, I have the charts…but it will take months of travel.” She said, looking at you hoping you could see that she was telling the truth. “We met so long ago. Your island is near the beginning of the Grand Line, it’s not a quick trip, this will take time.”

“So just leave me on the island we’re going to, I’ll find someone to take me ba-” you flinched when Zoro slammed his bottle onto the table. Finally you tore your gaze from Luffy to watch the swordsman sit back in his seat but still refused to look at you. 

“You’re not being left behind on an island we have no knowledge about.” He spoke firmly and you bit back the urge to sneer at him. 

“I think that decision is your Captain’s.” You forced the words out as calmly as you could. You couldn’t help but think back to the card you’d found in the book. For someone that had claimed ‘love always’ he had a funny way of showing it. “Think about it, the sooner you’re all rid of me, the sooner you get back to your adventures. Win-win right?”

“It’s not happening.” Zoro snapped turning his head to glare fiercely at you. “If you want to go back to the life you had then fine, we’ll see you home but none of us are risking your safety with strangers who could hand you over to the Marines without any hesitation.”

“I’m not a pirate.” You uttered thickly, denying it with every fibre of your being. Over and over you told yourself that no matter what happened, you would be fine, that you were still a good person. Zoro seemed intent on breaking that one comforting thought. You glared furiously as the swordsman rose and approached. When he was in front of you he stopped and looked down at you, his expression even but unrelenting. While the others had been kind and patient with you, Zoro was clearly choosing the harsher path.

“No. You just don’t remember being one. That’s the difference.” He told you coldly. “If we abandon you on that island, you’re easy pickings for any bounty hunter and Marine about because like it or not you have a bounty and that’s not going away. But you’re right. The decision isn’t mine, it’s yours and Luffy’s. So do what you want, if you do end up someone’s captive don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The seconds passed by in heavy, agonising silence. No one dared to move as you and Zoro glared at each other, defiant and locked in an intense battle. Finally your upper lip curled upwards as you ground out a terse. “Fine.” Roughly you  brushed passed Zoro and headed for the door, only stopping to scowl at Luffy. “I’ll continue to take my chances with your crew so long as you promise you’ll take me home after this island.”

“I promise.” Luffy smiled. You still couldn’t wrap your head around this happy-go-lucky Captain and after your heated exchange with his second in command you left the dining area with a firm click of the door signalling your exit. 

When the sound of your steps were gone Zoro let out the heavy sigh he’d been holding. While he hated being so cold and harsh with you, it was necessary in this instance to make you see sense. He felt a small sense of relief when you relented and agreed that they’d be the ones to take you back to your island. At least this meant he could do this much for you, he could see you safely home and still know the feeling of your presence for another few months even if you wanted more than anything to be as far away from the crew as possible. There was no ‘win-win’ situation in any of this for him but as long as you got to live your life content and how you wanted then he could accept that and do his damnedest to ensure you got what you wanted regardless of how much it hurt him. 

————

“You’re sure you don’t mind me going onto the island?” Chopper asked cautiously as he looked over your mostly healed injuries the next morning. The more extreme wounds still caused you some discomfort but you were able to move as freely as you could now and knew your limits so you gave the reindeer a small smile.

“I’ll be fine, you’re only going for a day anyway and I doubt I’ll injure myself here, I’m not that clumsy.” You assured him but still he hesitated. “Chopper, I mean it I’ll be fine. Go and enjoy your exploring. You’ve been looking after me all this time, you deserve some fun.”

“I don’t though.” Chopper protested with a firm shake of his head. “I don’t deserve it.” You tilted your head at his statement. Against your better judgement you couldn’t help but had a soft spot for him. He had saved your life and nursed you to help, pirate or not you owed him a lot and given how much time he’d spent with you in your recovery it was only natural to feel a bond beginning to form with him. Chopper slowly met your gaze and you could see shame in his eyes. “It’s all my fault. That day when the storm started it was my idea to take shelter in the ruins. You got hurt because of me. You hate us because of me…Zoro’s sad and not sleeping because of me.” 

His revelation stunned you and feeling the guilt and weight of his confession had caused a lump to form in your throat. You tried to shake how hearing Chopper mention Zoro specifically made you think of the card you’d found. You weren’t going to entertain the possibility of you being in a relationship with the man. You weren’t going to start to consider that you had chosen this life. It would drive you mad otherwise. Still you couldn’t let Chopper beat himself up over what happened.

“Chopper, I can’t tell you what happened that day and I also can’t tell you that things would have been different had we done something different. I got hurt and lost my memories that’s all I know.” You began as softly as you could. “What I do know is I’m alive because you’ve been looking after me and I don’t blame you for any of it. So do me a favour and go out there and enjoy yourself okay?”

“Thank you.” Chopper sniffled before smiling brightly at you, leaning forward to hug your side as gently as he could. “Will you be okay-”

“Yes! I promise I’ll be fine.” You insisted with a small roll of your eyes. “What’s the worst that’s going to happen?”

“Well it’s just…Zoro’s the only one staying behind.” Okay, now you were reconsidering whether you would be fine on the ship.

————

For most of the morning you avoided going to the deck so you wouldn’t have to run into your only ��companion’ for the day while the others were away. However there was only so much you could do to pass the time. Ever since you discovered the card you were hesitant to touch any of the other books that were apparently your personal possessions out of fear of finding more evidence of your history with the Strawhats. 

Then you came to the decision, if you were to trust these people to bring you home then it meant you were going to be in their company for more months ahead. Why should you be the one to hide away? You weren’t their captive so you weren’t going to act like one. Leaving the medical quarters you climbed the steps to the deck and saw that it was empty. At first you believed you were alone and continued up the next set of steps to sit in the shade of Nami’s tangerine grove but stopped to see Zoro lying on the grass, sleeping soundly. You waited for a moment but he made no reaction beyond the slow, relaxed breaths. You continued to the seats and sat in the one furthest from the man who was supposed to be the only source of protection to the ship. 

Basking in the sound of the waves gently lapping against the ship and comforting warmth coming down from the island’s summer sun, you sat back in your seat and got comfortable letting your own eyes slip closed. The second your breathing evened out and your head tilted to the side, Zoro’s good eye opened slowly. For a moment he continued to lie on the grass and stare up at the broken streams of sunlight coming through the canopy of leaves and his fingers twitched against his swords that lay against his hip. While he couldn’t sense any current threats nearby, he wasn’t taking any chances.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed until he suddenly he sensed something heading his way, sharply he snatched it in the air and looked to see the tangerine in his hand. Arching an eyebrow he glanced up to see you slowly peeling your own tangerine casually. 

“Thought you were sleeping.” He said carefully while sitting up to press his back against the wooden railing and lightly toss the tangerine you’d thrown at him into the air and catch it, the only thing he could do to occupy his thoughts and restlessness.

“Getting comfortable and sleeping are two different things.” You said simply. “Besides it’s not wise to just nap out in the open when at an unknown island. One near death experience is more than enough.” You added, pretending not to notice the way Zoro’s jaw clenched and his hands faltered slightly at your remark. You did gesture to the tangerine in his hand. “Aren’t you going to eat that?”

“And piss Nami off?” He asked sarcastically. “That’s one headache I don’t need.”

“What she got a rule about the tangerines?”

“Yeah, no touching without her permission or paying.” 

“Funny…” you mused before popping a segment of the fruit into your mouth. You chewed thoughtfully and swallowed, savouring the sweet, refreshing taste. “I don’t remember her telling me.” 

Zoro let out a small huff and smirked, shaking his head before stopping and glaring at the ground. He shouldn’t have laughed at that but for a small moment it had felt like the you he loved.

“Oh come on, that was funny! It’s going against everything in me but I’m really trying here to at least be civil.” You snapped in exasperation. “Or would you rather we fight and glare at each other the entire time I’m on this ship?”

“You’re only being civil because part of you still believes that if you’re not we’ll change our minds about taking you home.” Zoro stated making you freeze. “You don’t trust us, not entirely. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” You deflected, looking away from him. 

“No you don’t because I already know the answer.” Zoro slowly got to his feet and turned to look at the island the others were currently on, cursing them for forcing him into this situation. He knew that they’d planned this, thinking the impossible would happen but this wasn’t helping him. 

“Okay if we’re playing the truth game then you look me in the eye and answer me this, do you love me?” Your question came suddenly and Zoro turned his head sharply, he hadn’t expected that. You remained sitting in your seat as you stared at him with eyes burning; challenging and intense and as beautiful as always. “Well? What’s the answer?”

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773 @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa , @vikispike , @portgasmyass , @diarythroughmylens , @itsagoodluckkiss , @emmaiscool22 , @loveyluv7

[bluedeedeedoop]

My Thoughts on Tales of the Empire; mostly Barriss (spoilers ahead!)

Ah hello all, i have had some days or so to think since watching the show and to say it has completely wiped me of my life force would be... pretty accurate tbh. BUT I HAVE FINALLY DECIDED TO POST MY THOUGHTS. will this cover my entire though process that im sTill working through? PROBABLY NOT! my thoughts are very unorganized and very unstable! ANYWAAAAYS.

Now I just gotta say overall, the show itself definitely passed the test. To be completely honest, i wasn't really paying attention to the Morgan parts as i was the Barriss parts, since it was literally what I was looking forward to this entire time.

Though I will say that the first Morgan episode was pretty neat! it was crazy seeing that perspective of the Nightsisters again and god did they make Grievous fucking terrifying. Honestly, bravo to them, it was amazing. I diiiiid end up just.. kinda spacing out the rest of it tho unfortunately cuz i just wanted to see barriss..

Visuals 10000/10. stunning, amazing, phenomenal, gahdamn. the animation was so smooth and fluid and uGHH it was amazing throughout the entire show. Acting amazing as always. BUT GOD I CANT GET OVER HOW AMAZING THE ANIMATION WAS.

NOW.

In my opinion, they got her character pretty on the dot. I am SO glad they did. I was rlly rlly worried they were totally butcher her character and make her unrecognizable to all of us but oml they didn't completely disappoint us, she has her morals, SHES STILL A HEALER! Im so happy from that.

Now although i did enjoy it, i do have my own little complaints.

Now okay one i noticed since the trailer and has REALLY been bugging me; where are her hand tattoos??? idk i guess i just wasn't expecting them to just be gone?? they couldn't have just forgotten them.. right? I dunno, but unless someone has a genuine answer for that, imma just keep drawing them on her in the future.

??????

Alright another thing i've been seeing ppl post about is how come she looked so old at the end? I am also confused on that and i've seen multiple theories. She should only be like 30-35 max right?? Because i'm assuming the last episode took place a the time in Rebels where the inquisitors were after the force sensitive children, and Ahsoka was around that age a the time, so why is Barriss any different?

I suppose the one i think makes the most sense is the force healing? I guess it could take a toll on her over the years causing her to look more aged, but still, i'd really prefer an explanation. Also what happened to her hair coverings?? Is that not her culture?? I dunno, again, i really need an explanation. I suppose that maybe her perspective has changed since trying to come to terms with her new life, and her ditching the coverings is a way to free herself from her past? Honestly i have no clue but i just need a lot of things answered.

That's mostly my complaints on it! I just felt things weren't explained enough but to be fair, they only gave her like 3 15-ish min episodes?? I really think they got some explaining to do. Which brings me to my next points.

I'm like... 98% sure that the "old friend" is Ahsoka that she was talking about. Who else would it be?? Like cmon. And if it is Ahsoka, why did we not get to see anything about the moment of confrontation? or at least more of a mention? I guess they wouldn't rlly wanna rush that scene, and tbh, im glad they didn't. It's not some "we talk for 5 min and everything is fine" type of situation. it'll take time. time to rebuild that trust. time to discuss. YEAH. I've heard many people state how it would be more likely and realistic to see a novelization of that and i agree. I would want it to take time, showing the build of the relationship over time, going on further into the story as we watch their strong bond mend from the trauma it's faced. I'm not saying this as a crazed Barrissoka shipper, i mean it that I would genuinely want to see how that confrontation is handled, as do many others and not just as a ship!! It's been a decade! the fans wanna know!

And my last point.

I.believe.Barriss.is.alive.

The more i rewatch it, the more i believe it. the first time around i had my doubts, but something tells me they are NOT done with her character. At least before the stabbing scene anyway. There's too much stuff that's left unanswered for it to just end that way! I dunno man, but Lyn's "i'm going to get you out of here" sounded way too determined for a "im going to move your body out of here" type of thing yk? maybe she could sense she was still alive, just barely hanging in there? I don't think they are done with Barriss Offee, and I wont think so unless we see her corpse being fucking BURIED. Not to mention the UNGODLY amount of parallels of that scene along with them exiting the cave. I've already seen so many point it out. Post-Vader and Ahsoka fight on Malachor?? Back when we all thought Ahsoka may or may not be dead?? sounds familiar hello?? Also a parallel from earlier in the show itself when Barriss saves that unnamed jedi! she HEALS them when they were going to be left there. Something tells me the same fate may happen to Barriss. Idk call me crazy but i will say it again, i don't think they are done with her story.

Thank you for reading my very unorganized thoughts! this has taken me longer to write than expected because i did not predict this to make me have to step away from making SEVERAL times- but yeah! lmk what yall think! and yes you can be expecting some art here and there! i know i've been slacking- Also lmk if u want me to post my crazed Barrissoka thoughts! because aHa i have them. i have them a lot. send help.

ALSO KEVIN KINER I GOT MY EYE ON YOU. BRO NEEDS TO RELEASE THE SOUNDTRACK BEFORE I DIE.

[shookie-y]

Wisteria Blooms (3)

Pairing: Giyuu X Reader/ Tanjiro X Reader

Desc: (Y/n) is Giyuu's Tsuguko. Ubuyashiki appointed him to train her a year after he met Tanjiro. (Y/n) has had strong feelings for the water pillar for a few months. During a mission with Giyuu she runs into the two Kamado siblings. For Tanjiro it was love at first sight. What happens when (Y/n) has to fight her feelings for not only the two slayers but also keep up with the fight against the demons?

A/N: All of the characters are slightly aged up or down to make this story work. Tanjiro will be 18 and Giyuu will be 20. (Y/n) will be 19. If anyone has any questions about the other characters ages feel free to ask.

----------------------------------------------------------

The woods around you are quiet. There is a small breeze blowing through the trees. Your hair is moving slightly from the wind. Your leg doesn't hurt as much anymore. Shinobu had stitched it up when you dropped Kanao off. You couldn't stay long because you needed to get back to Giyuu... well his estate. The walk isn't long but it's taking you longer than normal due to your exhaustion. After what feels like forever, you finally see the doors to Giyuu's estate.

You smile and walk faster to the front door. "Tomioka-san? I'm back." You make your way through the building, looking for any sign of the man.

There seems to be no sign of him.

Well you think that until you hear a door sliding open behind you. "Tomioka-san! I was wondering where you went off to." You turn around with a big smile. Your gaze lands on Giyuu, who is standing there in shock. having just come from the bath. You look him up and down. The only thing he's wearing is a towel around his waist. You freeze and stare at Giyuu's bare chest. Water was still dripping down his abs.

"Oh... you're back." The nonchalant tone startles you and you quickly cover your face, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to stare! I should go rest!" You quickly turn around and rush off to your room. You quickly shove your door open and collapse on your bed. "I can't believe I just did that." You groan and shove your pillow over your head.

I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was checking him out. What is wrong with me? I'm his Tsuguko for goodness sake.

Not a second later you pass out.

Thirteen days pass as you're waiting for your sword and uniform to arrive. You've been avoiding Giyuu since the day you arrived back. It wasn't hard to do since he was usually on a mission or doing Hashira stuff. He is here today though.

You are currently sitting outside on the steps. You're just enjoying the breeze when a sound catches your attention.

Kting, kting, kting

You look up and see a person walking towards you. They're wearing a a sunflower patterned haori and a Hyottoko mask. They also have a hat which appears to have windchimes all around it. That's probably what is making the noise.

"Hello?" You tilt your head in confusion and stare up at the mysterious person.

"I am called Haganezuka. I am he who forged (Y/n) (L/n)'s katana." A deep voice comes from behind the mask.

"I am (Y/n). Would you like to come inside?" I motion to the front door. "I can make tea or something."

Instead of answering your question, he kneels down on the ground and starts opening a box.

That box must contain my katana.

"Oh, please co-"

"This is a nichirin sword. I forged this blade. The iron sand and ore that are the materials for a nichirin sword are gathered at the mountain closest to the sun. Scarlet iron sand and scarlet ore both absorb light. The sun shines all year on mount yoko. It is never cloudy and rain never falls."

The door opens behind you and Haganezuka shoots his head up.

"Your sword is here." Giyuu is staring down at the both of you. "Please come inside." He turns and walks back inside.

Haganezuka and you pick up his stuff and carry it inside. You all kneel down around some tea Giyuu had set out. "Draw your sword, (Y/n)."

You nod at Giyuu and pick up the katana carefully. The sheath is a light blue with tiny white snowflakes hand painted on. "It's beautiful. Thank you." You smile and bow at Haganezuka.

"Yeah yeah..." He huffs and crosses his arms. "Nichirin swords are also called color-changing katana. Their color changes depending on who is holding them.

You slowly pull out the katana and hold it up. It takes a few seconds before the blade starts to turn white. You gasp and stare at the sword in amazement. You go to say something but are cut off.

Your crow flies down to the window. "Kaw! Kaw! (Y/n) (L/n)! You must head for a town east. This is your first job as a demon slayer!" The three of you listen to the crow speak. "Children are going missing every night from their beds!"

Children going missing?

[sleaze4sleaze]

So. The rundown, and an explanation on why I kinda look not great in the photos lol

Long ass post warning

So, we get to the con, we're getting our barrings, wondering where the actor guests are and end up happening upon them in the back l've been vaguely nauseous all day. I see him and try so desperately not to dig my nails into my mom's hand after catching a glimpse of him. Nerves, excitement, little bit of awe because beautiful man hahah

Anyway, maybe three people in line counting us, we wait a second it gets to us and he's like "hey, l'm sorry I gotta do photo ops in like ten minutes I don’t want to rush you guys. But it’ll be like ten fifteen minutes and you guys can come back?” and mom and I are like no worries! He’s so courteous about it and it actually really eased my nerves a little

We walk around! We go back, he’s there and there’s one person there so I’m like okay! Great! I’m not the first one walkin’ up! So we wait a second I’m trying to get my shit together so I can speak coherently and somewhat confidently and not end up quiet like usual, it’s awful sometimes. Anyway! I do great! Normal human I don’t sound weird or however like an alien I feel (I cannot express how much I am not built to do shit like this). I gave him the drawing first thing and through it all was a blur but mom said he called it brilliant twice <3 I don’t doubt my skills but it is still, vulnerable. This one was never intended to be seen by him nor literally gifted to him, I poured a lot of reverence into it I probably wouldn’t have otherwise if I did it with the knowledge that he WOULD see it (difference between, ‘I want this to look nice because he’s going to see it’ and ‘I’m drawing beautiful man for myself :]’)

It’s photo time, I hand mom my bag and the lady at the table (most if not all the actor’s tables had a convention employee with them) took like ten photos. I initially tried to keep a respectful distance because like, I don’t know, I’m not gonna go in for a full side hug or whatever but immediately I get squeezed right into him. Good god. Not to be weird or crazy or whatever whatever but I will never forget how that felt. Or he feels. Or any of that. Yes he is as boney and solid as I imagined <3 but just that like ‘you’re real, and sweet’ is what’s getting me. and. Well, mom said it first but it is true with how firm of a squeeze I got, my future boyfriend has a touch to live up to 😤 (I do wish I was mostly joking, but I’m mostly serious). Truly, I scrunched up in surprise and it took a minute to even fully comprehend the fact I’ve been fully tucked into his shoulder. Gonna feel that hand on my arm forever! Not a bad squeeze! The perfect squeeze, to me .

He is genuinely so so lovely and I’m so glad I actually did this. And shoutout to my mom for being the reason I’m here. And for confirming afterwards to me that I did, in fact, not come off as nervous and excited as I actually was and that I handled it well (I was still clearly very happy to be here, obviously, just, chill about it) (I do not think I will handle any situation well ever)

I’m not proofreading any of this tonight I want to go finish typing up my. Journal. Before I pass out. But. I’m happy! I still have two more days, and I’m chill, excited to continue to have a great time with my mom and enjoy my first weekend away from the grandparents in. Two months

Art I gave him……. I do love this one a lot. And!! In lieu of a ‘proper’ autograph (that was an accident but I truly don’t care) the 31 quote I am going to get tattooed on my arm as soon as I can <3 another reason I kinda had to gift him some art of mine… something of ‘me’ to give to him in return of something of his (handwriting) that will end up on me

I’ll cry about this at some point. I wanted to earlier but I was still at the con and I am such an ugly crier it’s awful. Honestly still surprised how emotional this all made me

[francesminos-tt]

Pride and Prejudice au -4-

I made a cocktail from the original plot and my own take on the story. You might not even recognize it as a Pride and Prejudice au😅 Hope you enjoy it anyway!

“Captain Stark is here!” Joffrey exclaimed from his usual vantage point near the window. He had planned to go out for a walk today, but Rhaenyra wanted her boys to stay home to help her with some needlework. Honestly, Joffrey couldn’t be of much help, for he was too impatient for the precision needed for embroidery, but he decided to stay in anyway. He was glad about his choice, because he would have missed so much if he were out.

“What is he here for?” Rhaenyra lifted her head from the embroidery and turned to her oldest son, “Do you know anything, Jace?”

“No, mother.” Jacaerys replied, equally confused, a pink blush climbing up his cheeks.

“He’s in full army regalia.” Joffrey said, drawing the curtains aside to get a better look, “Oh, he’s talking to Elinda now.”

Jacaerys hissed suddenly, as he accidently punched the needle into his thumb, a few drops of blood staining the white fabric of the handkerchief he was working on. He cursed under his breath and put the injured thumb into his mouth, sucking the drops of blood clean. Jace seldom cursed, not to mention losing his composure in front of his mother. Joffrey exchanged a look with Lucerys; they both knew what it meant for an alpha to visit his alleged lover in full army regalia. Only a proposal called for such formal attire.

As much as Joffrey longed to rush down and find out the true purpose of Cregan’s visit, he remained in his seat and waited for Elinda to bring the news. He wasn’t going to let his curiosity ruin anything, especially not in his mother’s presence.

“My lady, a Captain Cregan Stark is here to visit you and Lord Jacaerys.” Elinda’s voice came after a few minutes, “He’s in the living room. Should I inform your lord husband, my lady?”

“That will be greatly appreciated, Elinda. Thank you.” Rhaenyra said as she stood up from her armchair, “We will be down shortly. Make sure Captain Stark has his tea.”

Jacaerys followed his mother and stood from his own seat. He smoothed his hair and the old pale blue dress he wore inside the house, brushing off any loose threads or dust that might be present. He didn’t really need to, though, for he had to change into something more presentable if he was to receive any formal guest.

“I am going to change. Join me downstairs, dear.” Rhaenyra said, looking as gracefully as she always had been, “Help your brother change into something nice, okay?”

“Yes, mother.” Lucerys and Joffrey replied in unison.

“What do you think he’s here for?” Joffrey asked after their mother disappeared into her private dressing room.

“I don’t know. I’d say he’s here to propose to Jace if I have to guess.” Lucerys went to rampage through the drawer to find a perfect outfit for his beloved brother, “Where is the dress with dragon scales embroidery?”

“Do not bother, Luke.” Jacaerys spoke, “I am going to make such a fuss about this. I will just wear my usual walking dress.”

“No way! You can’t accept a proposal in that shabby dress!” Lucerys insisted. He was the most meticulous about outfits among his siblings.

“Who said anything about proposal?” Jacaerys sighed, “And even if that’s true, who is to say I will accept?”

“Don’t silly, Jace.” Joffrey dragged Jacaerys to the mirror and helped him out of the worn dress, “Cregan is a good alpha. He obviously cares for you a lot. He’s not overly rich, but he has decent income and he’s the heir to the Stark Estate in the North. He will make a perfect match for you, brother.”

“I never expected to hear such things from you, Joff.” Jacaerys said, letting himself be handled by his brothers since his object clearly made no difference, “What happened to not taking income and status into consideration when choosing a mate?”

“I still stand for my view. Mutual respect and love are the most important things in choosing a mate, but it never hurts to have extra financial security.”

“Since when did you become a relationship expert?” Jacaerys asked. He didn’t mean it to be mock, but Joffrey clearly misunderstood his intentions.

“I am not an emotionless fool, you know. I can understand relationships.” Joffrey said defensively, “All right, done.”

“Joff, I didn’t mean-” Jacaerys tried to explain, but Joffrey had already walked away. Ever since they returned from the ball in the Red Keep, Joffrey had become more reserved and quieter compared to his previous wild and talkative self. He was constantly in deep thoughts, but neither Jacaerys nor Lucerys knew what their little brother was thinking about. They only knew Joffrey had disappeared for some time during the ball, but Joffrey wouldn’t tell them what had happened. He only insisted that nothing bad had happened to him, and tell Jace and Luke that they needed not worry. Joffrey’s words did nothing to assure his brothers, but Jace decided to let thing slip for now. He knew how stubborn Joffrey could be. Joffrey’s attitude just now just confirmed Jace’s suspicion. It had something to do with relationship.

“Worry about yourself first, Jace.” Lucerys shoved a petticoat into Jacaerys’s hands, “I will keep an eye on Joff. You focus on securing your alpha.”

“Luke!” Jacaerys blushed a deep red, while Lucerys just smiled and went to fetch the rest of the dress.

By the time the three brothers went downstairs, Rhaenyra was already in deep conversation with Cregan Stark. Just as Joffrey had said, Cregan was dressed handsomely in his army uniform, his thick hair combed nicely and all pushed back, exposing his angular face. He was clean shaven, his nails clean and polished, and his face literally lit up at the sight of Jacaerys.

“How do you do, Jacaerys?” Cregan smiled brightly to the omega, “It is nice meeting you. Your mother is just talking to me about your embroidery project.”

“I am doing very well, Captain.” Jacaerys curtseyed slightly, “I hope my mother isn’t bragging too much about our little project. It’s nothing serious.”

“I don’t think a hand-embroidered tapestry is just a little project, Jace.” Rhaenyra chuckled, obviously been enjoying the conversation with Captain Stark, “The good captain is very curious about your work, dear. Perhaps you can show him later.”

“It will be lovely!” Cregan exclaimed, a bit too loudly, “I mean, if it pleases you, of course.”

Lucerys chuckled, while Joffrey just rolled his eyes. Don’t get him wrong. He adored Cregan’s clumsiness around Jace, but there was just so much puppy love he could handle in one day. In Joffrey’s opinion, Jace and Cregan should kiss and seal the marriage pact already.

“What is your business here today, might I ask?” Jacaerys asked, “I didn’t seem to remember you mentioned anything in your letters.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, forgive me for visiting out of the blue.” Cregan clearly didn’t expect Jacaerys to ask the question so openly, “But the issue is urgent. I need to sort things out before leaving for Winterfell.”

“Are you leaving?” Jacaerys’s voice dropped, but he managed to keep the polite smile on his face.

“Yes. I am afraid I have to go back to the North.” Cregan continued, “I just received a letter from my sister. My lord father sadly passed away a week ago. As his heir, and new Lord of Winterfell, I need to go back to finalize the inheritance with my lawyer.”

“My deepest condolences.” Jacaerys’s smile disappeared, replaced by a small frown, “Thank you for paying us a visit, captain, but you really don’t need to. I am sure you have a lot to process.”

“My lawyer helped a lot. I am no use in legal matters, anyway.” Cregan shrugged, “However, my business here today requires my presence. I am not here just to inform you of the bad news, Jace.”

“Then what are you here for?” Jacaerys asked, a bit more impatiently than he normally would.

“As you know, I am about to inherit the estate of Winterfell. Marriage is my top priority as the new Lord. I adore you a lot, Jacaerys, and I cannot think of anyone else as my mate.” Cregan’s speech started awkward, but as he continued, he seemed to gain more and more confidence, “My affections for you grows stronger each day. I know you deserve more courting, but I need to know your heart before I leave for Wintetfell. Please, relieve me of the torture of guessing.”

Joffrey had never expected to hear such heartfelt words from Cregan, not publicly, anyway. The captain seemed to forget about the fact that they were not alone in the living room. Cregan had his eyes fixed on Jace, his face flushed, his forehead sweaty, and he looked like he was about to explode if Jace remained silent for any longer.

“I am not a ready marriage material.” Jacaerys said softly after a while, “I have grown fond of you too, Captain, but I don't want you to make a hasty decision.”

“God,” Joffrey whispered, “just say yes already. He is obviously head over toe for you.”

“Shh, quiet!” Lucerys hissed, shooting Joffrey a warning glare, “Don’t let them hear you.”

“Are you propose to my son, Captain Stark?” Rhaenyra chimed in, moving to stand next to Jacaerys, as a show of support.

“I am.” Cregan admitted, taking a step closer to Jacaerys, who had his hands clasped together tightly, as if he feared they would reveal his true feeling, “My feelings for you is genuine and true, Jacaerys. I have been courting you since the day we met. My decision to propose is not made hastily, though I admit my father’s passing does make me realize how precious time is. I love you, Jace. I will take no mate if you refuse me.”

Jacaerys blushed, his omega scent becoming stronger, like a sudden burst of wind carrying the first sign of spring. The freshness of mountain lily became so overwhelmingly sweet that even someone as slow as Joffrey could tell that Jace definitely had feelings for the captain.

“Captain,” Jacaerys spoke, his voice soft like a lover’s caress, “I mean, Cregan. I am honored by your honesty, and I must say that the affection is mutual.”

Cregan’s face literally lit up, his dark eyes shining with ecstasy. He strode towards Jacaerys and enveloped the omega’s hands with his thick, warm, and calloused palms. It was heartwarming to watch two lovers confess their feelings to each other, and have such feelings returned with equal passion. Joffrey was happy for his brother, for Jace deserved all the respect and affection he could get. He should smile, and he really wanted to, but somehow, Joffrey only found his stomach clench and his eyes burn with emotions he couldn't name.

“Let’s go, Joff,” Lucerys tugged Joffrey’s sleeves gently, “I think we have witnessed enough.”

Joffrey let himself be dragged away by Lucerys, leaving the lovebirds alone in the living room with their mother. There was no doubt that Rhaenyra would agree to the match, even though Cregan’s proposal was abrupt and completely unexpected. If Rhaenyra agreed, Daemon would agree too because he would never oppose his wife. Besides, Joffrey thought Daemon would like Cregan, since they were both from the army.

“Well, today turns out quite interesting.” Lucerys said after the two omegas walked on the small path leading to the woods, “I would never expect the captain to be so blunt.”

“At least Cregan is honest.” Joffrey replied, taking a deep inhale of the familiar natural scent, “I am happy for them. Winterfell seems to be a decent place.”

“Except it’s too far. I can’t imagine only seeing Jace once a year.”

“They can buy a house in town.” Joffrey said, kicking a small rock with the tip of his shoe, “So that Jace can stay closer to us. I am sure Cregan will make it happen.”

“What if you are to marry away?” Lucerys asked, though he didn’t sound too curious.

“What do you mean?” Joffrey frowned, his heart skipping a beat, “I am not marrying anytime soon. In fact, I don't think I will ever marry.”

“What about Sir Gwayne? You seem to have had a great time dancing with him in the ball.” Lucerys clearly didn’t buy Joffrey’s words, “I’ve never seen you dance so happily.”

“I was just being polite, and Sir Gwayne happens to be a great dancer.” Joffrey shrugged, trying to brush the topic off, “You told me to follow the social norm from time to time, so I did.”

“Then why are you acting weird since the ball?” Lucerys dropped the bomb, the true question he had been longing to ask, “Do not think I didn't notice.”

“I am not acting weird.” Joffrey insisted. He was relieved that Lucerys only asked him about Gwayne, not Daeron. He couldn't admit that Daeron’s confession had been bothering him lately. Honestly, he didn't even understand why. He had made it clear that he could not return Daeron’s affection, so why did he keep dwelling on this?

“You barely go to the market anymore. Benjicot actually asked about you the other day when I passed the tailor’s shop. You are usually the one who helps mother with her errands, so Ben was surprised to me there instead of you.” Lucerys gently linked his arms with Joffrey as they walked down the path, “What’s wrong, Joff? You know you can tell me, right?”

Joffrey wanted to tell Luke everything so bad. He was always slow when it came to deciphering people’s emotions, but Lucerys was an expert of it. Lucerys was observant, smart, and highly sensitive to the subtle signs that reflected people’s true feelings. However, the thing was, Joffrey didn't think telling Luke about Daeron would make any difference now.

“How do you deal with so many admirers, Luke?” Joffrey asked, “How do you decide which one to talk to, while they all compete for your attention?”

“I am not obliged to return any of these affections, so I always follow my heart.” Lucerys replied, knowing full well that Joffrey wasn’t really asking about him, “Why? Did anyone confess their feelings to you, Joff?”

Lucerys’s words shocked Joffrey so much that he almost stumbled by a broken twig. Shit. Now Luke must have already guessed the truth. Why was Joffrey always so easy to read?

“Is it Uncle Daeron?”

“What the-” Joffrey managed to swallow the curse in the last minute, “How do you know? Does anyone else know? Did I make a fool of myself again?”

“Relax,” Lucerys said, rubbing Joffrey’s back soothingly, “I just took a wild guess. Well, not so wild. You disappeared with Uncle Daeron during the ball for a quite a while, after all, and you have been acting weird ever since. It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots.”

Joffrey let out a defeated sigh. Great. His biggest secret was revealed just like that.

“Yeah, Daeron says he loves me.” Joffrey admitted, blushing a little as the words rolled off his tongue. He had never talked about the incident so far, and it was the first time someone showed him affection instead of his brothers, so the word ‘love’ just felt so strange on his tongue.

“And?”

“He proposed, and I said no.” Joffrey said, putting things as simple as he could, “That’s it.”

“Joffrey!” Lucerys’s eyes widened in surprise, “Why didn’t you tell us? This is serious. You should consult mother, or at least us, before you make such an important decision.”

“I am not marrying him, no matter what mother, Jace, or you say.” Joffrey claimed, “He’s too arrogant and too proud. He doesn't believe omegas can have their own thoughts, and he thinks mother would marry us off to the wealthiest candidate possible as if we are just meats.”

“Uncle Daeron doesn't seem to be such a terrible character.” Lucerys said after a while, “Granted he comes from a very religious family, but even Aemond admits his youngest brother is well respected and honorable.”

“Of course Uncle Aemond would say that.” Joffrey scoffed, “He won’t say anything bad about his own family.”

“I am not taking Aemond’s words without question, you know.” Lucerys continued, seemingly unaffected by Joffrey’s rude attitude towards to his potential mate, “I make the conclusion based on my own observations. Uncle Daeron seems to be an honorable alpha, Joff. He might have offended you, but perhaps he said those things because he cared for you.”

“You are deceived by his polite facade.” Joffrey said stubbornly, “You don't know his true nature because he did a great job of hiding.”

“Maybe.” Lucerys reached out to brush a fallen leaf from Joffrey’s dark curls, “And maybe not. Perhaps you are the one who are too blind to see his true self.”

Joffrey had no idea how true Lucerys’s words could be.

Jacaerys was officially betrothed to Captain Cregan Stark. The whole family rejoiced at the news; Lucerys and Joffrey already saw the good captain as their brother-in-law, Rhaenyra was impressed by Cregan’s honesty, little Egg and Vis liked Cregan’s story about the snowy world of the North, and even Daemon seemed satisfied with this fellow army man.

Cregan was to leave for Wintetfell tomorrow to settle the inheritance matter, so Rhaenyra took this opportunity to host a small gathering at her cottage. She invited Lord Corlys and his wife, Lady Rhaenys, who was a cousin of Daemon. The Velaryon couple had been a main patronage of the brothers, so they were exhilarated to learn the good news. Rhaenyra also wrote to inform her stepmother of the news, which Lady Alicent replied with a polite letter to congratulate Rhaenyra and Jacaerys, and also to offer her deepest apology that she could not make it to the dinner because she and her sons were to return to Dragonstone on the same day of the gathering.

“Did you know this?” Joffrey whispered, nudging Lucerys.

“No.” Lucerys replied with a pale face. He looked as surprised as Joffrey, or even more, his lips trembling slightly and his fingers tightening around his shawl.

“Uncle Aemond didn't write to you?”

“No,” Lucerys cast his eyes down, thick soft curls hiding the upper half of his face, “he hasn't written for days.”

Well, that was strange. As far as Joffrey knew, Aemond wrote to Lucerys at least once a day, sometimes twice, or even three times. Aemond even hired a servant boy to deliver his letters to Lucerys because the mail service was too slow and not good for privacy. It was strange for him to stop writing so abruptly. The decision to leave the capital was also strange, as if Lady Alicent and her family were trying to get away from them. Joffrey understood if Daeron wanted to leave, but why did Aemond agree to all this?

“Too bad my nephews can’t share the good news.” Daemon commented with his usual mocking smile. He never liked his nephews anyway.

“I wonder why they suddenly decided to return. There isn't much of a social scene on Dragonstone. Alicent should know that her sons are more likely to find a suitable match here.” Rhaenyra carefully folded the letter and put it on top of her other documents, “Is there something wrong with my father?”

“We met Viserys on our way here,” Lord Corlys spoke, “he seemed okay.”

“Strange.” Rhaenyra murmured, “I thought my stepbrothers are getting along well with my boys.”

“Are you familiar with Aemond and Daeron?” Lady Rhaenys turned to the omegas, “I’ve heard they are respectful young alphas, but I haven't officially made their acquaintances.”

“We have only met several times,” Lucerys replied, choosing not to elaborate too much on the details, “I won't say we are well acquainted. Right, Joff?”

Rhaenyra’s confusion grew because she knew how many letters Lucerys and Aemond had written to each other, but, as a wise woman, she kept her mouth shut for now.

“I suppose.” Joffrey said, shrugging. Though he thought Luke and Uncle Aemond were far better acquainted than him and Daeron, he decided not to expose Lucerys’s lie. Unlike others, he was actually relieved to learn that Daeron would be leaving, for he had no idea how to face Daeron after rejecting the alpha. Perhaps a little distance was just what Joffrey needed to forget about Daeron’s proposal all together.

Rhaenys didn't pry further, and her husband gladly took over the conversation to talk about his adventures on the sea. Lord Corlys’s story was fascinating, but Joffrey found it hard to focus on the old sailor’s story. His mind drifted, and ended up on Daeron.

The night went on as planned. The extended family shared a lovely dinner before Corlys and Daemon retreated to the library while the rest of them went to the dressing room for tea. By the time Corlys and Rhaenys left, it was already midnight. Joffrey found Lucerys sitting on his bed, wide awake, after the candles were all out.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Joffrey whispered, careful not to awake Jace, who had had too many cups during dinner.

“I can’t.” Lucerys sighed softly, a small crease lingering on his brow.

Joffrey threw a warm blanket at Lucerys and dragged him out. The two brothers went downstairs as quietly as they could, and settled down on the front porch. They used to sneak out to watch the stars when they were children, not yet presented, having all sorts of wild dreams about their future. There were no alphas, no marriages, and certainly no uncles.

“It’s about Uncle Aemond, isn't it?” Joffrey asked as they snuggled together under the blanket.

“I don't know why he hasn’t told me about him leaving.” Lucerys sighed softly, “He said he wouldn’t keep any secret from me.”

Well, even Joffrey could tell this promise was too hard to keep. Lucerys, the smart one, must know it as well, but the omega seemed to trust Aemond enough to buy the alpha’s words. Lucerys kept saying that he and Aemond were nothing serious, but Joffrey could tell from Luke’s sad eyes that it was not true.

“Oh, Luke.” Joffrey wrapped his arms around Lucerys, hugging his brother tight. He had forgotten about his own messed-up relations with his uncle now, focusing solely on making Luke’s sadness go away.

“I am all right, Joff.” Lucerys murmured, but Joffrey didn't believe a single word of it.

“You are shivering.” Joffrey tightened his arms, trying to warm Lucerys up, “Aemond is an ass for hiding this from you. I am going to beat him up for hurting you.”

“How? He’s already gone. You don't even know where he is now.” Lucerys chuckled, though he didn't sound happy at all, “It is okay, Joff. It’s my fault for trusting him anyway.”

“You are definitely special to him.” Joffrey said, “I can’t believe I am defending Uncle Aemond right now, but he couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time you were together. I think he blushed when you agreed to dance with him.”

“Perhaps he is just good at pretending.”

“Uncle Aemond? No way.” Joffrey pulled the blanket tighter to prevent any warmth from leaking out, “He sucks at pretending, or he wouldn’t return other omegas’ flirting with a scoff. He must have offended a dozen of them just to be with you.”

“It means nothing now.” Lucerys rested his head on Joffrey’s shoulder and looked up at the starry sky, “He left. I don't think he will return anytime soon.”

“Maybe he has some urgent matter to attend to. Like, estate stuff. I am sure he will write to you as soon as he arrives on Dragonstone.” Joffrey followed Lucerys’s gaze, finding the brightest star in the velvety sky, “You deserve the best, Luke.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me, brother.” Lucerys murmured, the sadness lifting just a bit, “I didn't realize Aemond would have such a great impact on me. I am the one who is supposed to have the upper hand.”

“I bet Uncle Aemond is missing you sick right now.” Joffrey assured, “Besides, there is no winner or loser in a relationship.”

“You are wiser than I thought, Joff.” Lucerys chuckled, a real chuckle this time.

The two brothers fell silent, admiring the twinkling stars as they dwelled on their respective thoughts. They fell asleep eventually.

Aemond never wrote again. Two weeks had passed, and their one-eyed uncle hadn’t sent a single letter since his abrupt departure. Lucerys’s anticipation soon turned into anxiety, then disappointment, and finally acceptance. He went on his daily tasks perfectly, reading, going on walks, mending his little brothers’ clothes, etc. However, everyone could tell Lucerys’s smile was strained, and he was constantly distracted, as if his mind had been absent since he had learned the news. Even little Aegon and Viserys noticed that there was something wrong with Luke. Lucerys mixed up the sizes when making them a new pair of shoes, leaving Aegon with a pair of bright purple shoes and Viserys a deep grey one. Lucerys had never made such mistake before, so the boys immediately knew their dearest Luke wasn’t feeling well lately. Rhaenyra was worried, but she didn’t know what to do since Lucerys wouldn’t even admit that he was hurt. Jacaerys secretly asked Cregan to find out what had kept his uncle on Dragonstone, but the captain couldn’t find any clue.

Joffrey? Joffrey was furious. How could Aemond ignore Lucerys like that? How could Aemond leave without hesitation? How dare he hurt Joffrey’s brother?

“You look like you are about to kill someone.” Benjicot said, placing his elbows on the counter, “What happened?”

Joffrey wiped his hands on the apron and went to fetch the pudding he had reserved for Ben. Joffrey decided to work more shifts in the bakery because he couldn’t bare staying in the cottage. The sight of a sad Lucerys made his blood boil with anger and frustration. If he didn’t keep himself busy, he would die of fury.

“Here you are. I put an extra cake in. New recipe.” Joffrey purposely ignored Ben’s question, “Let me know how you like it.”

“Sure.” Benjicot shrugged, “Thanks, Joff, but you haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Nothing happened.” Joffrey kept his eyes down, for fear that Ben might see through his lie. He was never a good liar.

“You haven’t come to the market for a long time, and when you finally show up, you look like a carriage has just run over you.” Ben said, “I am your friend, Joff. I know when you are not feeling yourself.”

Joffrey tried to deny, but another voice chimed in, causing him to jolt in surprise.

“Are you not feeling well, Joffrey?” A soft and polite voice came as the bakery door was pushed open, the spring breeze bringing in a fresh scent of forest drizzle.

“Good afternoon, Sir Gwayne.” Joffrey took a deep inhale before lifting his head up to greet the alpha, “What can I get for you today?”

Gwayne had become a regular at the bakery Joffrey worked in. The alpha came almost every day, usually during afternoon when there weren’t many customers. He would ask for a piece of cake, or some tea sandwiches, while having a lighthearted conversation with Joffrey. Gwayne was the only one whose attitude towards Joffrey never changed. He never pried about Joffrey’s life or family, their conversation always focusing on trivial matters such as weather or the new design of hats just shipped from Essos. Honestly, Gwayne’s visit was the only time when Joffrey could relax a bit and forget about the mess in his life.

“Perhaps you should take a break. You don’t look too well.” Gwayne observed, worry clear in his voice.

“I am fine. Had too much at lunch.” Joffrey made a random excuse. He really was a lousy liar, because his stomach grumbled as soon as the words left his mouth, exposing his lie immediately. He didn’t eat lunch toady. Why would he make such a bad excuse?

Gwayne frowned slightly, but didn’t call out Joffrey’s lie.

“Can I have a box of honey cakes and two ham sandwiches, please?” Gwayne said after a while, fishing out some coins from his pocket.

Joffrey nodded and went to get Gwayne’s order. Gwayne’s order was obviously too much for one person, but who was Joffrey to care? Perhaps Gwayne had some guests to entertain today. Joffrey placed the order securely in a paper bag and handed it to the alpha.

“Thank you.” Gwayne smiled, taking the paper bag and letting his fingers brush against the back of Joffrey’s hand, “Perhaps you can accompany me on a walk?”

“I am on my shift, Sir Gwayne.” Joffrey replied, the patch of skin just touched by Gwayne prickling, causing the hair on his neck to stand.

“Indulge me, please? I can talk to your employer.” Gwayne offered his hand to Joffrey, “I can buy your time if necessary.”

Joffrey hesitated, but Benjicot seemed to think this was an excellent idea.

“Go, Joff. I don’t have to work today. I can cover your shift.” Benjicot said, flatting his palm to Gwayne, “Six pence will suffice, Sir.”

“No, Ben,” Joffrey tried to reject, but Ben dragged the omega from the counter and snatched his apron before Joffrey could stop him.

“Just go, Joff. Enjoy your walk.”

Gwayne rested his hand on Joffrey’s lower back and pushed the omega gently to the door. Joffrey had no choice but to let the alpha lead him out of the bakery and onto the bustling street of the market.

“I apologize if I am being too forceful.” Gwayne spoke as they began to walk down the street, “But you seem to be stifling in there. I want to give you some room to breathe.”

“It’s okay. My shift ends soon anyway.” Joffrey replied, moved by Gwayne’s thoughtfulness, “Actually, I should thank you for dragging me out. I can use some walking.”

“Here,” Gwayne offered the box of honey cakes to Joffrey, “have a piece. I hope you like honey cakes.”

“How about your guests?” Joffrey was confused by Gwayne’s offer. Why would the alpha share the food with him, instead of the guests Gwayne might have this afternoon?

“Guests?” Gwayne seemed equally confused, “I don't have guests today.”

“Then how are you supposed to eat all these food if you don't have guests to receive?” Joffrey pointed to the paper bag, “I am not bragging, but most people use our products on special occasions. I don’t think you like honey cakes enough to eat a dozen of them in one go.”

Gwayne chuckled at Joffrey’s words. It was adorable that the omega always had a unique sense of humor.

“Well, now I remembered. I do have an important guest to entertain this afternoon.” Gwayne smiled, leading Joffrey onto a small path to the woods, “It’s you, Joffrey. I think we can have a little picnic in this lovely weather.”

Joffrey blushed. He couldn't help but feel flattered, his omega instinct satisfied by the alpha’s care and attention. Gwayne’s scent reminded him of the gentle rain in the woods, soothing and non-invasive, enough to chase away the anxiety that had been pestering him lately.

They settled under a tree facing a small pond near the edge of the woods. Joffrey could still hear the noises from the streets, but they no longer frustrated him. All the shouting and carriage moving was reduced to faint background noise, hidden by the nature sounds of wind brushing against the leaves. Joffrey had already finished three honey cakes, his grumbling stomach no longer complaining.

“I should bring us some drinks too. Sorry. It is inconsiderate of me.” Gwayne said after noticing Joffrey swallowing saliva for the fourth time.

“It’s okay. You already treated me to those lovely cakes.” Joffrey turned his head lazily and smiled. He was leaning against the thick tree, his dress pulled up to reveal his ankle and shin. It was highly inappropriate to expose his skin like that in the presence of an alpha, but Joffrey was too sleepy care.

“I am glad I stayed behind while my sister decided to go back to her lord husband.” Gwayne said, “Or else I wouldn't be able to enjoy your company.”

Joffrey’s eyes were almost half closed, but he did manage to catch something of interest. Who did Gwayne say? His sister? Lady Alicent?

“What do you know about her leaving?” Joffrey asked, sitting straight, “I mean, your sister.”

“I don't know the details, but my sister seemed urgent to leave. Our niece, a lady from Old Town, is to visit Dragonstone on her way home from Pentos. Alicent wanted her to meet Aemond.”

“Why Aemond?” Joffrey’s heart dropped as the thought of a distressed Lucerys came back.

“To make a potential betrothal, of course.” Gwayne replied, breaking a ham sandwich in half and taking a small bite, “Don’t you know? It is Daeron who encouraged Aemond to at least make an acquaintance. He thinks Bethany Hightower will make a fine match for Aemond. Since she is familiar with finances, she can help manage the Targaryen estate.”

Joffrey’s stomach clenched and his throat went so dry that he could not make a sound. Daeron was the culprit of Aemond leaving without notice? Daeron must have known Lucerys’s engagement with Aemond, but he still decided to talk his brother into leaving? Who was this Bethany Hightower, and how could she be the future mistress of Targaryen estate? Dragonstone belonged to Joffrey’s mother!

“Joffrey? Are you all right?” Gwayne put his hand on Joffrey’s shoulder gently, “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Joffrey squeezed the word out through gritted teeth, “Thank you telling me the truth, Sir Gwayne. I really appreciate it.”

If Joffrey had any guilt from rejecting Daeron before, he felt none now. Daeron had just proved himself to be a hypocrite by destroying the happiness of Joffrey’s brother. Joffrey would never, ever accept an alpha like that.

[wooblrb]

chapter one

genre,, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn ??,, unrequited love

pairing: junghoon x fem!reader 

wc: 1070｡𖦹°‧

warnings: y/n is delulu....>.<

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at the beginning of my junior year, something unexpected happened—my best friend abandoned me.

“i’m going home early, i cant do this anymore!” jiwoon said as she hurriedly packed up her things.

“are you serious?! you can’t leave because of that! hold it in for me!” i whined, desperately trying to get her to stay with me for lunch.

“you know i can’t go to the bathroom in public…” she slashed an apologetic smile, as she quickly rushed out of the classroom, trying to avoid being caught by me.

“enjoy your lunch!!!~” jiwoon called out, already halfway down the hallway.

i slumped in my seat, feeling the sting of loneliness. even though it sucked, i knew i’d have to face the rest of the day on my own.

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when I was left to fend for myself in the jungle called the “cafeteria,”…

“ugh, this sucks,” i muttered under my breath as i ate alone.

I should finish my food quickly and get to class… i thought to myself, grabbing a big spoonful of rice and shoveling it into my mouth.

suddenly, a voice broke through my thoughts.

“hi… is this seat taken?”

my eyes widened, and I quickly looked up to see a handsome guy from my class pointing to the empty seat in front of me. i choked on my food and hurriedly swallowed, nodding, “Yes.”

and so it began…

“i’m ham jinsik. we’re in the same class, right? what’s your name?” he asked with a charming smile.

“i’m y/n,” i replied, my heart fluttering.

from that moment on, i found myself drawn to him.

jinsik was funny, handsome, and popular. he wasn’t just kind to me, but i couldn’t help but feel that maybe... i was special in his eyes…

ever since that day, we ate lunch together almost every day, and even hung out outside of school! we sat next to each other in class… it had to be destiny. maybe, just maybe, jinsik would feel the same way about me one day.

one afternoon, as we sat together, jinsik asked me a question that made my heart race.

“y/n, do you like anyone?” he asked, his gaze full of curiosity.

my heart pounded in my chest, nearly threatening to escape.

could this be the moment where we become more than just friends…?

“huh?! oh… um, yes, i do. how did you know?”

jinsik smiled, his eyes bright with excitement.

“ah, well, i have someone i like too… i want to tell you who it is! and if you’re okay with it, maybe you could tell me who yours is?”

my cheeks flushed as i looked down, trying to suppress a smile.

“okay… who is it?” i asked, my voice almost a whisper, my heart in overdrive.

“well…” jinsik began, his face turning pink. “she’s in the same grade as us. she’s cute and pretty…”

i leaned in, eager to hear more. maybe it was me?

“her smile just… draws me in,” jinsik continued, blushing even deeper. “i can’t help but stare at her beauty. i was probably obvious, but…”

i tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my body tilting slightly towards him.

“jinsik… i—”

“she’s also tall, and her hair is very long…” jinsik added, continuing to describe someone who was not me.

i turned away, my smile faltering as reality set in.

“her name is moon bora, and i’ve liked her since middle school. She’s transferring to our school soon…”

i stared blankly ahead as my thoughts spiraled.

so lets figure this out...

long hair vs. medium-length hair

tall vs. short

transferring to our school vs. already at the same school

met in middle school vs. met in high school

my crush: jinsik.

jinsik’s crush: moon bora.

in conclusion, i am not jinsik’s crush!

i spaced out, my gaze drifting out the window. On this perfect spring day, i had convinced myself that i was the main character in some kind of romance drama. but reality had cut this unrequited love story… in the first episode.

“so, y/n, who do you like?” jinsik asked, his voice curious, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“huh? oh, about that…” i said, turning my face away slightly, embarrassed.

it was way too late to lie about my crush, but if i told him the truth, it would make our friendship awkward… and i don’t want that.

“hmm… i’ll guess who he is then,” jinsik said, adopting his signature thinking pose.

“is he tall and handsome?”

“uh, yeah… he’s tall… and handsome, i guess…”

i have to be as vague as possible so he doesn’t suspect anything.

“uh… does he go to our school? is he in the same grade as us?” jinsik continued, probing for more details.

“ah… maybe?” i answered nervously, my palms starting to sweat.

“ah, i think i got it!” jinsik exclaimed, pointing a finger triumphantly into the air. (🤓☝️)

what!? already? even i don’t know who it is…

just as i was about to respond, the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over.

“oh! there’s the bell—let’s go to class!” he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward the classroom.

i guess that went well… it’s probably better for him not to know that he’s the one i like. that way, it won’t be awkward between us, right?

when we got to class, jinsik mentioned he needed to use the bathroom. i sat down at my desk and began gathering my materials for math class.

“geez, what’s taking him so long?” i muttered to myself, absentmindedly scribbling in my notebook.

suddenly, i felt someone sit down next to me. my brow furrowed as i turned to find that the person next to me was NOT jinsik. i looked back, confused, and saw him sitting two rows behind me. he caught my gaze and waved, flashing his signature toothy smile.

“y/n! i think i know how to help you~!” he whispered, giving me a thumbs-up.

is he serious…

ever since then, jinsik has been actively trying to help me with my “crush.” part of me thought I could get out of this situation, but what really worried me was that, out of all the guys he could’ve mistaken my crush for… he chose…

“why are you staring at me..? (-ㅅ-)”

kim junghoon.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚

༊彡next

masterlist 𓇢𓆸

[hydrxnessa]

alr first floor 2 doors thought dump, obv spoilers ahead // cheers to @d-alva45 for experiencing first playthroughs w me :3

first impression was like oh my god we're actually going in. starting from where we left off and atmosphere was so perfect tbh WE'RE GONNA CRAASSHHHH

door 1 was at first confusing cus like we didnt know what to do (no guiding light this time >:( ), eventually we figured out. i kinda like that mechanic tbh, also the ping noise when you open a drawer/locker when there's an item in it is kinda nice to have

oh the rooms we've seen so far are so environmental like ... definitely giving the mines, its so eerie and atmospheric and dawg the ambience scares me everytime :sob:

the light sibs are there :3 although, curious' had the potion which i know i put there; guiding's had ... a large .... curious .... bottle .... ? i've always had my A-1000 tablet in there, but i thought maybe it wouldnt transfer to the mines so like i took it. big mistake idk what happened to the tablet but i lost it forever. rip tablet you were never useful to me. at least i can use my rift with purpose

i believe our first (new) entity was that white screech? giggle. fuck i hate that thing. i like the idea that friends can take that thing off you but ugh. i hate your laughter. keep doing whatever you're doing great sweetie. anyways later runs we started to catch on that it would just be in the ceiling giggling so thats nice. i like its mechanic tbh

i think my first death was to hide. i caNNOT believe they changed hide's design to be that red monster thing, AND HIDE HAS MINIGAMEESSS???? i havent tried it in the hotel but i kinda hope it didnt fully replace the locker timer. i liked that tbh but i guess they wanted to spice it up. it gets faster the longer you stay in until it becomes borderline impossible and you have to LEAVE. i didnt even know you could LEAVE during the minigame. anyways died to that thing.

next death was the gloombats. oh those things sound TERRIFYING. also guide gives no helpful advice for them, 'they're menacing when they're in a swarm' yeah thanks im getting swarmed how do i get Not swarmed. had to learn through friends that they're attracted to light. gotchu

i dont remember what door number but i think its a fixed one; motherfucking FIGURE falls from the FUCKING CEILING ???!?!?! brother starts wandering around like bro you are Not contributing anything what are you doing. sick though hello old friend

also eyes fucking TELEPORTS around. bro starting working out before the update now its EVERYWHERE. eyes, screech and giggle are worst combo

ALSO WE GOT AMBUSH ON LIKE DOOR 4. DAWG WHAT. rush also came from the front. omg doors floor 2 trailer referenced.

ANYWAYS i might've forgotten something but thats all my thoughts down !!! i will be taking a sleep because its MIDNIGHT and i am SUPER EXHAUSTED, i will try my best to avoid spoilers since we only got up to like. door 14. ENJOY THE REST OF THE UPDATE AND THANKS FOR READING MY DUMB RAMBLINGS I GUESS ????? i did not read over this so excuse my grammatically incorrect ass

rip im gonna have to mildly change hide's design. giggle's is gonna be fun to draw. gloombats i dont really know what they look like but probably fun. idk about the big boy, havent seen it yet

[cousmemes]

dialogue starters from DOCTOR WHO SEASON 8. feel free to edit for context / continues under the cut.

"I'll wager you've not seen anything like this before."

"Listen to me. You need to calm down."

"I'm not flirting, by the way."

"What have I done wrong?"

"Are you judging me?"

"Just because my pretty face has turned your head, do not assume that I am so easily distracted."

"Whatever it takes, I will keep you safe. You will be at home again."

"I'm cold. There's no point in us both being cold. Give me your coat."

"Are you cross with me?"

"You were talking about me?"

"What is happening right now to you and me is more important than your egomania."

"Nothing is more important than my egomania."

"You've redecorated. I don't like it."

"You can't see me, can you? You look at me, and you can't see me. Have you any idea what that's like?"

"I was being funny. I just do that."

"How long have you been there?"

"Are you going to look that terrified when you take me out for a drink?"

"You were smiling at nothing. I'd almost say you were in love."

"I need you."

"An anti-climax once in a while is good for my heart."

"We cannot waste this chance. It won't come again."

"Isn't the universe beautiful?"

"I think you're probably nice. Underneath it all, I think you're kind and you're definitely brave. I just wish you hadn't been a soldier."

"I don't know if you're a good man. But I think you try to be and I think that's probably the point."

"Old-fashioned heroes only exist in old-fashioned storybooks."

"Do people ever punch you in the face when you do that?"

"Well then, draw your sword and prove your words."

"People are so much better at sharing information if they think the other person has already got it."

"Right, you do that again and you'll regret that."

"We can't just let them kill him!"

"She should not have told you any of that."

"Perhaps others will be heroes in our name. Perhaps we will both be stories. And may those stories never end."

"I wasn't making assumptions about you."

"You just have to squeeze through."

"How did you get in?"

"You know, you should have more than one chair. What do you do when people come round?"

"The deep and lovely dark. We'd never see the stars without it."

"I mouth off when I'm nervous and I've got a mouth on me. Seriously, it's got a mind of its own."

"Tell me the truth - because I know when people are lying to me."

"I am not going to leave you in danger!"

"Sorry, who put you in charge?"

"However this goes, whatever happens, don't let me end up like that."

"They have no power over you now. You can do exactly what you want to do now. Exactly what you've always wanted to do."

"Go and enjoy yourself. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"There's no way out of this. We're going to die here."

"Why are you being nice?"

"Every time I see you, it's like you're in a rush."

"The next few days are all about you. I promise."

"Human beings have incredibly short life spans. Frankly, you should all be in a permanent state of panic."

"How can you think that I'm her dad when we both look exactly the same age?"

"He's my boyfriend. I thought you'd figured this out."

"Why wouldn't I be okay? I was fine till you blundered in."

"It's funny, you only really know what someone thinks of you when you know what lies they've told you."

"Please, tell me how I fix this."

"I'm bored. Let's go somewhere fun. What do you say?"

"I know men like him. I've served under them. They push you and make you stronger, till you're doing things you never thought you could."

"Is there some sort of fancy dress thing on this evening?"

"I am so sorry. I've had a wobble. It's a big wobble, but it's fine. Forget about it."

"Where are you and are you in trouble?"

"Lying is a vital survival skill. And a terrible habit."

"Do you want the good news or the bad news?"

"We're in the bad news! I'm living the bad news!"

"Why can't you just say it? Why can't you just say I did good?"

"You are enjoying this just a little bit too much."

"Don't make me say it."

"I don't want to be the last of my kind."

"I don't want to see more things. I want to see the things in front of me more clearly."

"I just want to know the truth. I don't care what it is. I just want to know it."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, everything is better when you're here."

"Please speak to me. This is - this is killing me.

"I love you. And you are the last person who's ever going to hear me say that."

"By now, I'm sure you've heard the rumours, and it is with great sadness that I must confirm them to be true."

"He was alive, and then he was dead and it was nothing."

"Don't. Be very, very careful with that."

"I know what you're doing. You're trying to take control."

"I am in control. Do as you are told."

"I was curious about how far you would go."

"You betrayed me. Betrayed my trust, you betrayed our friendship, you betrayed everything that I've ever stood for."

"Do you think I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?"

"Speak for me again, I'll detach something from you."

"This isn't possible. The dead don't come back."

"Be strong, even if it breaks your heart."

"Say something only you could say. Tell me something only you would know."

"Whatever it takes, I will be with you again, I swear."

"So you know who I am, right?"

"Look, are you going to help me? Because I can't do this alone."

"And didn't all of those beautiful speeches just disappear in the face of a tactical advantage?"

"I wasn't very good at it, but I did love you."

"There's something that I have to tell you and, er, it's not good news so just - just listen, okay?"

"Never trust a hug. It's just a way to hide your face."

"Thank you for making me feel special."

[ask-zooted-lizzy]

I might not know who you are or if we'll ever get to know each other, but please listen to me.

What ever happens, where ever we are, do not quit like this on everyone. We enjoy what you do, you make us smile and you might have helped people through some hard times without even knowing it. Take your time, but please don't give up, don't get rid of yourself, we are rooting for you.

And I am saying this now, what ever happens, please don't hesitate to reach out...at all.

Threre over a 100 reasons to stay alive:

1. to make your parents proud

2. to conquer your fears

3. to see your family again

4. to see your favourite artist live

5. to listen to music again

6. to experience a new culture

7. to make new friends

8. to inspire

9. to have your own children

10. to adopt your own pet

11. to make yourself proud

12. to meet your idols

13. to laugh until you cry

14. to feel tears of happiness

15. to eat your favorite food

16. to see your siblings grow

17. to pass school

18. to get tattoo

19. to smile until your cheeks hurt

20. to meet your internet friends

21. to find someone who loves you like you deserve

22. to eat ice cream on a hot day

23. to drink hot chocolate on a cold day

24. to see untouched snow in the morning

25. to see a sunset that sets the sky on fire

26. to see stars light up the sky

27. to read a book that changes your life

28. to see the flowers in the spring

29. to see the leaves change from green to brown

30. to travel abroad

31. to learn a new language

32. to learn to draw

33. to tell others your story in the hopes of helping them

34. Puppy kisses.

35. Baby kisses (the open mouthed kind when they smack their lips on your cheek).

36. Swear words and the release you feel when you say them.

37. Trampolines.

38. Ice cream.

39. Stargazing.

40. Cloud watching.

41. Taking a shower and then sleeping in clean sheets.

42. Receiving thoughtful gifts.

43. “I saw this and thought of you."

44. The feeling you get when someone you love says, “I love you."

45. The relief you feel after crying.

46. Sunshine.

47. The feeling you get when someone is listening to you/giving you their full attention.

48. Your future wedding.

49. Your favorite candy bar.

50. New clothes.

51. Witty puns.

52. Really good bread.

53. Holding your child in your arms for the first time.

54. Completing a milestone (aka going to college, graduating college, getting married, getting your dream job.)

55. The kind of dreams where you wake up and can’t stop smiling.

56. The smell before and after it rains

57. The sound of rain against a rooftop.

58. The feeling you get when you’re dancing.

59. The person (or people) that mean the most to you. Stay alive for them.

60. Trying out new recipes.

61. The feeling you get when your favorite song comes on the radio.

62. The rush you get when you step onto a stage.

63. You have to share your voice and talents and knowledge with the world because they are so valuable.

64.Breakfast in bed.

65. Getting a middle seat in the movie theater.

66. Breakfast for dinner (because it’s so much better at night than in the morning).

67. Pray (if you are religious)

68. Forgiveness.

69. Water balloon fights.

70. New books by your favorite authors.

71. Fireflies.

72. Birthdays.

73. Realizing that someone loves you.

74. Spending the day with someone you

75. Opportunity to create meaningful and lasting relationships.

76. Potential to learn, grow, and evolve as a person.

77. Joy and happiness in the little things.

78. The power to inspire others.

79. The ability to create art, music, and other forms of self-expression.

80. To explore different cultures, traditions, and ways of life.

81. To make a positive impact on the environment and help protect the planet.

82. Experience the joys of parenthood and raise a family.

83. Learn new things and develop new skills.

84. Create a legacy that will outlive you.

85. Being wrapped up in a warm bed.

86. Cuddles

87. Holding hands.

88. The kind of hugs when you can feel a weight being lifted off your shoulders. The kind of hug where your breath syncs with the other person’s, and you feel like the only two people in the world.

89. Singing off key with your best friends.

90. Road trips.

91. Spontaneous adventures.

92. The feeling of sand beneath your toes.

93. The feeling when the first ocean wave rolls up and envelops your toes and ankles and knees.

94. Thunderstorms.

95. Your first (or hundredth) trip to Disneyland.

96. The taste of your favorite food.

97. The child-like feeling you get on Christmas morning.

98. The day when everything finally goes your way.

99. Compliments and praise.

100. to look on this moment in 10 years time and realize you did it.

And there could be more...

Stay with us...ok?

I have the gun loaded, but I feel like I should just put it away. Thank you.

[welcome-to-ratterrock]

Do u the creator and Sage has a similar definition for "obsession" with death or death in general?

I think everyone has different or similar definition for that topic but I'm curious on what is Sage pov abt it

Ppl always avoid this topic and they are usually weirded out or get scared when someone talk about it (personal experience, very few ppl are comfortable with that topic and bless their heart for not being scared)

@bajingoarts says:

I was raised really catholic, grew up my whole life learning about resurrections and rebirths. Obsessed with the imagery of our messiah literally suffering and dying on a cross above our heads. I’ve always found death both fascinating and terrifying. To some it’s the beginning, to others an end. To me death is as neutral as the sea. Dangerous and unpredictable yet beautiful and mysterious. 

It doesn’t mean it does not frighten me, it’s natural to fear an end. But the approach and understanding that an end is coming makes me try and appreciate the peace and life I have.

If people stopped obsessing over the afterlife–an idealistic peace after this one and simply view death as a natural end to life…then maybe folks would open their eyes to the random, strange, horrifying, and beautiful realities of the here and now…

I think Locke is a lot like that. Viewing the violent deaths he investigates as the theft of life. He isn’t afraid of death, we all die…but some die unfairly and gruesomely. Locke wants to pick apart the reasons, the motivations, the way someone died…perhaps to better understand how they lived. I think we can all relate to feeling isolated from those around us, I think Locke feels most isolated from the living, and feels he can only relate to them through their death…

It might sound twisted, but I think Locke feels he can better service those who died than he can those who are living. When designing him I wanted him to almost look like he had a skull pattern on his face, like he was a gatekeeper to the afterlife…a reaper who collects lost souls. 

Y’know…a sexy emo boy.

@suzie-guru says:

Ever since a very young age, death and what it truly means has always been something I’ve contemplated. What would it be like, to not be a part of the vibrant rush of the living world, to have my existence truly end? If I am not my body but a soul that resides within it, where would my soul go, what would it perceive? Death awaits me, everyone - it is as natural as the tides of the sea and the phases of the moon. Mortality is a brief and precious flicker of a flame before the certainty of death comes to extinguish it. But what did death actually mean? What happens after we draw our last breath? 

For an undeniable and unavoidable fact of life, one of the key things about death is that what happens after we die is truly unknown. Church told me one thing, then relatives and or friends would tell me another. What did I believe in? Would contemplating something that didn’t align with Christianity mark me out as a failure of faith, unable to go to heaven? At the very least, I knew I wouldn’t be able to experience what I loved, what was comfortable and familiar and known, that which I could somewhat control. Death? That was, is, the ultimate unknown. 

This realization frightened me as a child, and even as an adult I get unsettled when I dwell upon it. I’ve always struggled with the unknown, that which can’t be explained or understood, and I take comfort in what is familiar and understandable. 

But now that I’m older and more mature, along with that unsettledness is an intense appreciation and gratitude to the beauty of life, its pleasures and sensations. I love exploring and celebrating new experiences, whether it’s trying a new drink or traveling to a different country, and I recognize and relish the quiet joys of the day to day, the feeling of sunshine on my skin or the nuzzles my cat gives me. Life is about sensation and we are built to enjoy those sensations. As someone who has been at the lowest of lows because of depression, I very much intend on enjoying what is enjoyable and beautiful about this world with the time that I have. 

Interestingly, that’s a trait I share with Padraic Regal - his lows of life have been so very low, so horrible and heartbreaking, that he’s very much a hedonist now, determined to enjoy the best of the beautiful and bliss inducing things his world has. Though he’s willing to break the law and bend morality to get what he wants, and I’m not (I promise!). He knows how quickly life can turn to death, how a beautiful healthy bloom can wilt and wither, and he wants to make his time on earth something special, experience everything extraordinary and exquisite to the point of ecstasy. 

He, like me, also wants to endure beyond his death, take back some of the total control by having his name live on. As a writer and artist, I want to have my work and the worlds they contain to continue on, be shared by others so that a part of me will still endure, still offer hope and comfort and inspiration and insight. Padraic wants his name to be whispered with awe, and he doesn’t care if it is awed admiration or fear. Both of us want to create something that will stand the test of time, do something meaningful and worthwhile with our lives before it is our time to go. Vita brevis, ars longa. Life is short, but art is eternal. For me, my art is literally that, art. For Padraic, his art is his profession, his criminal genius. Perhaps both of us are motivated by that unspoken promise of the briefness of mortality…