#which i steadfastly refuse to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigskyandthecoldgun · 9 months

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based off this post i made a couple days ago lmao

words: 2.1k

Generally speaking, Steve Harrington is a pretty good boyfriend.

He takes Eddie out, never lets him pay for stuff if he can help it—hell, he’s even bought Eddie flowers before. And Eddie’s not complaining, because it’s hard enough to find another queer man in Hawkins, let alone one willing to date him. So Steve is his first boyfriend, and Eddie hasn’t had much (read: any) experience with dating.

But he’s pretty damn sure by the time they hit the three-month mark that Steve’s staunch refusal to hold his hand is unusual.

It’s not like Steve isn’t affectionate. More often than not, Steve’s arm will be around his shoulders or his waist, and there are no shortages of kisses anywhere and everywhere. But Steve won’t hold his hand. And he hasn’t let Eddie give him a handjob. Which—the latter isn’t as much of an issue, because maybe Steve’s just not a fan of handjobs, and that’s fine, Eddie’s not an asshole, Steve’s more than entitled to say no to stuff like that.

Though, Steve’s got no problem putting his hands to work, so what is it about the idea of holding hands or Eddie touching him in the same way that makes Steve so weirdly uncomfortable?

Eddie’s first thought had been that Steve might just not like holding hands. That the clamminess of another palm in his gives him the same kind of sensory ick that Eddie gets from getting adhesive residue on his hands. But Steve holds hands with Robin all the time with no problem, so it can’t be that.

His second thought is that Steve might be so used to being the ‘man in the relationship,’ so to speak, that he doesn’t think Eddie would want to be as handsy. But, again—doesn’t explain the hand holding thing. Because Steve had definitely held hands with girls he’d dated in the past, if Eddie’s high school memories aren’t failing him.

So what the hell is it?

What’s so unthinkable about being touched by Eddie?

And Eddie tries not to read too much into it, because he’s more than aware that both he and Steve have some internalized stuff about being queer, and maybe Steve’s just working through that. He tries not to read too much into it because Steve is a good boyfriend, save for this one weird thing, and maybe they’ll get to a point where Steve will tell him why he doesn’t want to hold hands or have Eddie’s hands on his bare skin for more than a minute or two.

They’re making out on Steve’s couch one night, Eddie’s hands on Steve’s waist and Steve’s hands already halfway through undoing the button on Eddie’s jeans. Eddie starts to tug at Steve’s shirt to get it untucked from his jeans. “C’mere, wait, lemme touch you,” Eddie breathes, and Steve grins against his mouth before backing away. Eddie blinks, utterly confused. “What? What is it?”

Steve just laughs, shakes his head, and dives back in for another kiss. “You’re funny,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips, and Eddie feels a weird tug in his gut, because something’s wrong, and Steve’s acting weird again about Eddie touching him.

He thinks it’s funny.

Thinks it’s funny that Eddie wants to touch him.

Well, firstly, ouch. Secondly, that’s a real jerk move, but he’s torn between telling Steve off and getting off. He ends up going with the better option, because Steve might be acting like a jerk, but he’s a jerk that’s jerking Eddie off, so…better than nothing, Eddie supposes.

He doesn’t bring it up again for another three months, resigning himself to have his hands redirected from Steve’s bare skin and remaining steadfastly un-handheld. And, sure, y’know, he might be able to attribute it to the fact that they spend a lot of time with people who don’t know they’re together yet, but that possibility is quickly eradicated when Steve suggests that they tell the rest of the Party about them.

“You sure you wanna do that?” Eddie asks, brows raised skeptically, because for a guy who won’t hold Eddie’s hand, Steve’s pretty gung-ho about airing their business to the rest of the group.

Steve just tilts his head, a cute little look of confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asks, like the idea of him not wanting people to know about him and Eddie is crazy. Steve blinks, the confusion turning to concern. “I mean, unless you’re not ready. I don’t want to pressure you—”

“You can tell them,” Eddie cuts in, fidgeting with his rings. “I’m—yeah. Yeah, you can tell them.”

Maybe this will finally give Steve the push he needs to get over himself and hold Eddie’s goddamn hand before Eddie goes crazy and gets shipped off to Pennhurst.

Or…maybe not.

Because Steve still won’t hold his hand. Or let Eddie touch him.

The one time Eddie had managed to get his hands on Steve’s bare skin, he’d spotted Steve itching at the spots Eddie had touched in the bathroom later that night, the door only open a crack. Which is pretty dramatic, even for Eddie’s taste. Is the feeling of Eddie’s hands on him really so awful? Christ, Eddie’s getting sick and tired of this shit.

Eventually, nine months into their relationship, Steve blatantly moves a hand away from Eddie’s during a movie night when Eddie tries to take hold of it. In front of their friends. Eddie sucks up his wounded pride and corners Nancy in the kitchen later, after the first movie is over and they’ve been sent to get snacks while Steve and Robin argue over what movie to play next, wondering if he should even be asking her.

“Something on your mind?” she asks, because he hasn’t come up with anything to start with yet, and Eddie sighs.

“Is—okay, did Steve ever—when you guys were dating, did he ever, like, not hold your hand?” he asks, and Nancy tilts her head.

“I mean, sometimes…? It was only because I was wearing rings, though,” she says, like that makes perfect sense, like Steve just has some ring-phobia or something, and Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. Nancy gives him a little smile. “You wear yours all the time, so I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

Okay, so, weird ring-phobia it is.

That’s the new working theory, and when he and Steve bunk in Steve’s room for the night, Eddie makes a show of carefully pulling his rings off and setting them on the bedside table. There’s a couple of green marks on his fingers where the clear nail polish he’d coated the interiors in has chipped away, and he rubs at his bare fingers absentmindedly as he climbs under the covers. He takes a deep breath and laces his fingers with Steve’s, ready to have Steve pull his hand away for the umpteenth time.

Instead, he’s met with a surprised, pleased little hum. “You took your rings off,” Steve notes, relief clear in his voice, and Eddie nods, trying not to let the feeling of triumph show on his face too much. Steve grins at him and presses a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. “That’s a nice surprise.”

“What, you don’t like my rings?” Eddie teases, keeping the genuine curiosity in his voice to a minimum, and Steve’s brows furrow.

“What? No, no, I love your rings, Eds,” Steve tells him. He lowers his voice. “I think they’re pretty hot, actually.”

Okay. Okay, so a wrench has been thrown into the ring-phobia theory.

“What, are they too cheap for his majesty’s royal fingers?” Eddie jokes, putting on a goofy, poorly-done British accent, and Steve’s nose wrinkles slightly.

“I mean, they are costume jewelry,” Steve says. “Nickel-plated, right?”

Ah.

So…it’s that Eddie looks, or even feels, too cheap.

Jesus. He hadn’t thought Steve would be that shallow.

Eddie swallows. “Uh, yeah, they—they are. I can stop wearing them, if you…” he trails off, not really sure what to do with this new information. Cheap to the touch, apparently enough to make Steve wrinkle his nose at the thought of Eddie touching him with his rings on.

“What? No, no, you don’t have to. I’m good, I can deal with it,” Steve says, like it’s supposed to be reassuring, like it’s such a big sacrifice for him to deal with how inexpensive Eddie’s taste in jewelry is, like their relationship isn’t serious enough for Steve to get over himself.

It’s just his rich boy upbringing, Eddie reminds himself. Even Wheeler’s upper-middle-class jewelry wasn’t enough to beat that expensive taste.

Evidently, the conversation had stuck in his boyfriend’s brain, because on the morning of their first anniversary, Eddie is given a long, velvety black box with four Sterling silver rings. They’re exact replicas, design-wise, of their nickel-plated counterparts, and Steve looks so proud of himself, so pleased with his gift idea, and Eddie barely stops himself from frowning.

“Oh,” Eddie says, a little hollow, “um, thank you.”

“You like ’em?” Steve asks, and there’s such a hopeful look on his face that it just pisses Eddie off more. “I just figure—y’know, because, I mean, I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing costume jewelry, so—”

“Yeah, no, I, uh—I got that,” Eddie says with a strained smile. “Thanks, Steve.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “I feel like you’re mad at me,” he says, and he says it with humor, but there’s genuine worry behind it. “Did I screw up your present that bad? Were you dropping hints and hoping for something else?”

Eddie’s jaw clenches. “It’s…the present is fine, Steve,” he says.

“You don’t like them,” Steve mumbles, gnawing on his bottom lip. “I mean, it might take me a lot longer to save up, but is—would you, like, prefer titanium or steel or something? I didn’t really think you were a gold kind of guy, but it’s fine if you are, I just didn’t know—”

“Why do I have to prefer anything?” Eddie snaps. Steve blinks at him. The look of pure confusion on his face is a little infuriating, like he can’t even fathom why Eddie might be upset, and Eddie’s eye twitches. “Look, just because you’re all high and mighty about what jewelry is worthy of being seen near you—”

“Woah, woah, what are you talking about?” Steve asks, alarmed.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Eddie slams the box down on the coffee table and stands up to stomp around the living room, pacing back and forth. “You won’t let me hold your hand o-or even touch you, like you’re so above cheap shit that you can’t bear to let it touch you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve offended the sensibilities of his highness with my ‘costume jewelry,’ but Jesus, Steve, you can’t even get over yourself on our anniversary? I’ve seen you act like me touching you with my rings on gives you hives or some shit, like it’s just so terrible that it makes your skin crawl—”

“It does,” Steve says, a little subdued, eyes wide with shock, lips parted, “I’m allergic to nickel.”

Eddie pauses mid-stomp.

“You’re what?” he squeaks.

Steve blinks, and a long silence stretches between them. “I’m allergic to nickel, Eds, everybody knows I am,” he says. “I can’t hold your hand if you’re wearing nickel-plated stuff, but you really like your rings, they’re important to your look, so I wasn’t gonna be a dick and tell you to take them off just so I could.”

Recontextualizing every interaction of his year-long relationship he’d tried not to read too hard into is…a lot to experience in a little under thirty seconds.

“Oh, dear God, I’ve been an asshole,” Eddie mutters. “I thought you wouldn’t let me touch you because—but it was just—”

“Yeah, an itchy dick is not a good feeling,” Steve says, a nervous little laugh bubbling out of him. His face falls a little. “I—did you think—?”

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie blurts, horrified. “I am so sorry, Steve, oh my God—”

“No, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t—I must’ve seemed like a total jerk, Eddie, I should’ve told you outright, but I guess I figured you already knew,” Steve says, shrugging helplessly. “But, no, it’s nothing like what you said, I promise, I’m just—I’m allergic.”

Eddie immediately yanks the rings from his fingers and fumbles to get the box open, swapping them out for the silver ones, which he jams onto his fingers as fast as humanly possible. “If I got my head out of my ass sooner, I swear I would’ve found replacements the second I knew,” he says, and Steve laughs.

“I know you would’ve,” he says, all fond and soft, “you’re good like that.”

“Let me make it up to you? I can touch you all I want now,” Eddie says, waggling his silver-covered fingers in front of Steve’s face.

Steve interlocks their hands and leans in to kiss him, slow and sweet. “Looking forward to it, Eds.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #my fic #also my prompt #i guess it's a prompt?#it was more like. a passing idea #but still

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writingsbychlo · 5 months

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KNOW YOU LIKE I DO | tom riddle

summary; love letters are tom's way of communicating. unfortunately, he's not as good with his actions.

word count; 7036

notes; another one that I said was gonna be short and it wasn’t. I think I’m physically incapable of writing short fics, actually.

Dear Tom,

Tommy.

My Tom.

Do you still have that first letter I wrote to you, back in summer? No, I suppose you don’t, that’s not very like you.

I’m drunk. Just a little bit (a lot), and I can’t take it anymore. Mattheo told me to tell you how I feel, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. He’s asleep on my bed right now, drooling into my favourite pillow waiting for me to write this.

So here it is.

I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m confused. I’m in love. And it’s all your fault.

Staring across the crowded room, your eyes fixed back onto that of Tom Riddle. It wasn’t hard to spot him, not as he was the only man who came to a Christmas party dressed in all black and sat alone, brooding. His lips were pressed into a line, the lights bouncing off of those shiny curls, green and red splashed across his pale skin as he sipped at his drink, listening to the conversation Draco and Blaise were having, but never participating.

Your heart lurched a little in your chest, just the mere sight of him had a thousand different feelings rearing their heads, and you sighed to yourself. Shaking your head, your attention was redirected to the drinks table, pouring yourself an extra strong helping of Giggle Gin and topping it off. The urge to look back over was strong, and you steadfastly ignored it, suppressing the urge and instead, turning your back to his direction, walking towards the group of girls giggling in the opposite corner.

Taking your seat back in the comfy corner of the sofa, Pansy offered you a smile, her arm looped over Luna’s shoulders as the blonde cuddled into her side. Astoria was currently recounting the intimate details of her latest night with Draco, and you hid a smile in your cup as you tuned back into the conversation.

You lost the battle with your will, however, gaze moving directly back across the room to Tom. He had a slight smirk on his face now as he watched Draco speak, and you did not doubt that he was receiving a tale of the exact same encounter Astoria was currently telling, only from a different point of view.

Blonde cut across your vision, the perfect smile of Daphne blocking your view as she sat in front of you, severing any sights of Tom you might have had. “You know,” She started, grinning as she took a sip of your drink cheekily, before handing it back. “If you stare at him any harder, you’re gonna’ drill holes in the side of his head.”

You could only scoff, but no argument formed. Lately, all you’d been able to do was stare longingly at him across any room. You weren’t subtle, and you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings. Which seemed fitting, since you’d fallen for someone who was like a blank slate, permanently.

Tom Riddle was a harder book to read than a tablet written in a never-before-discovered language.

“He looks so… miserable, Daph.”

She glances over her shoulder at him, snorting a laugh, and turning her attention back to you. “Because Tom Riddle doesn’t go to parties, and he’s probably counting the minutes until he can leave.” She smirked a little, shuffling closer, perched on the edge of her seat as she leaned in, “At least, he didn’t go to parties. Until you, that is.”

Your cheeks flushed, a subtle hint at the running joke your friendship group had taken on. They’d all become convinced that Tom attended parties for you, ever since he’d been a willing guest for the first time at Draco’s end-of-summer bonfire bash, and spent the majority of the night talking with you. They refused to let it go.

“You should go over there and cheer him up. I bet he’d be smiling in no time if you gave him a little attention.”

That was exactly the problem. You’d been giving him a little too much attention, and now, everyone was painfully aware of your feelings for him. Except for him, maybe. Either that, or he was just very good at pretending he didn’t notice, in a chance to let you down gently. You didn’t know which option was worse. “Don’t be ridiculous, Daph.”

“No, you don’t be ridiculous! You and him are… something else.” She took your free hand in hers, squeezing tightly. All amusement melted from her face, and she gave you a serious look. The expression she wore when advising her sister on Draco, or comforting Pansy after a panic attack. “Are you ever going to tell me what happened over the summer, or are you just going to keep acting like it wasn’t some cataclysmic shift?”

“So dramatic.” You hummed to your roommate.

“Still pretending, I see.” She teases lightly, but her brows are still furrowed. She waited a few more seconds, to see if you’ll crack. All you do is hold her steady gaze, and take a sip of your drink. With a sigh, she released your hand, and leans back in her chair. “Well, whatever. We can all see it, see how you two pine for one another, and how perfect you’d be together. Just go and talk to him! He’s probably sat over there waiting for you anyway. He had that exact same kicked-puppy expression on at the summer party, until you walked in.”

“He did not…” You murmur, the very thought making you blush.

“I think that’s the first time I ever saw Tom Riddle smile. A real smile, not the smile he gets when threatening someone, or when Mattheo falls over. A good smile.”

“Now you’re just making him out like some kind of sulky villain.” You retort, and she only raises a brow at you.

“Here, take him this box, and go talk to him. The poor boy looks lost over there without you.” Reaching under her chair, Daphne produces a familiar box, wrapped neatly in black paper with dark green ribbon, and your jaw drops.

“Daphne!—” Reaching out to snatch it from her, your brows furrow. “Did you go through my things?”

“I didn’t exactly go through your things,” She grins, watching you turn over the label with his name written on neatly. “I just watched you hide it under your bed and got curious… it smells good. Is it cookies? Can I have one?”

When she reaches for the box, you slap the back of her hand, and she sticks her tongue out at you in return. “No! You cannot, you little snoop!”

“Fine! If you won’t let me have a cookie, then you have to go over there. You either give me a cookie, or you give me the satisfaction of seeing you and him smile.” Her arms crossed, her tone annoyed but her words caring, and love shone in her gaze as she stared at you. “Go on. Go over to him. Please.”

It wasn’t like you didn’t already want to, and with her encouragement, you were a weak woman to say no. Downing the rest of your drink for a little liquid courage, you hop to your feet, present clutched in your hands.

Weaving through the room, the bass notes of Mattheo’s custom-made playlist pumped through the room from the speakers, a playlist you might have slightly altered a few days ago to add a couple of songs, just to mix up his usual tastes. Your stomach was twisting nervously, but the alcohol in your veins made for a pleasant buzz as the distance between you both closed.

After almost taking a ping-pong ball to the eye, courtesy of Theo on the beer-pong table, you cleared the games and settled into the pleasant atmosphere surrounding where the boys had set themselves up for the evening by the fire. When you approached, Tom looked up, frown melting away as the crease between his brows disappeared, and he sat up a little straighter as you approached.

“Hi, doll,” He murmured, shifting his arm from the armrest of the chair, so that you could take a seat on it instead. That same arm soon wrapped around your waist, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, and your heart skipped a beat within your chest. “Where’ve you been?”

“Over there, with Daph and the girls.” You whisper in reply, balancing the box on your thighs, and pointing through the crowds to the barely visible patch of chairs and sofas you’d all been occupying. He only hummed, squeezing you a little closer.

“Stay here with me for a while?”

“Sure,” Your voice hardly worked as you spoke, emotions clogging up, and you reached for the gift in your lap. “I have this for you, anyway. I made you those cookies you like so much.”

“You did?” His head lifted, and one of those pretty smiles that made your heart stop clean in your chest was adorning his lips. “The ones with the orange peel and the dark chocolate?”

“Those very ones.” You handed it to him, and he tugged at the ribbon covering the box, fingers flipping under the seals of the paper until it fell openly neatly. Flicking open the catch on the cardboard box, the smell of freshly baked treats filled the air, and he made a rumbling noise of happiness as he plucked on up, and took a bite. As you laughed at him, he took another, pushing it between your lips with a smirk while he chewed.

He resealed the box, savouring them, as he did all things, and putting them on the table in front of himself. You held the cookie now, eating it slowly, as Draco and Blaise finally seemed to become aware of your presence.

“I have a question.” Draco started, and your gaze moved to him, brow raising as you took the final bite. “Is Astoria over there talking about me?”

The blond smirked, and you twisted, lifting your legs to sit over Tom, ankles crossing on the opposite arm. “No, no. She’s been recounting a scene from a book.”

“What?”

“Yeah. You know, the fun books. It was really, really hot.” You teased, fanning yourself, and Tom chuckled, reaching over you for his drink, and taking a sip. Instead of putting it back down, he rested the cool glass on your thigh, his free hand coming to sit on your calf, rubbing lightly as you shivered at the touch. “Why? You think you’re better than a good spicy romance?”

“I know I am!” Draco huffed, and Blaise rolled his eyes, watching you wind his best friend up with barely a few words at all. “What book is this?”

“Oh, you don’t want to know…”

“I do want to know! Tell me!” His cheeks were turning pink, all the way up to the tips of his ears. In the spirit of Christmas, you took pity on him, rolling your eyes.

“I think it was called… Astoria’s Diary.”

It took a few seconds for it to register in Draco’s mind, and the furious pink turned to an embarrassed red, and he shook his head, eyes narrowed at you. “I despise you.”

“You love me.” You fired back, and he scoffed, but the edges of his lips pulled at a smile, and he looked away to cover it. Settling back a little more, you leaned into the cushion, feeling Tom roll his head across the cushion to lean in your direction.

“I feel like I’ve barely seen you all week.” He says, voice low for only you to hear, and your head twists towards him You were close, close enough to pick out the different coloured flecks of colour in his eyes as he looked at you, and the hardly visible steaks of lighter brown that trailed naturally through his dark curls.

“Well, I’ve had detention all week, thanks to a certain someone.” You poked his chest, and he only smirked a little bit, shuffling his head a fraction closer.

“I needed you, what can I say?”

“You needed someone to keep a lookout while you snuck into the restricted section again. Why did it have to be me?” You scoffed, working to keep the smile on your face as the answer to your own question flickered through your mind. He chose you because he knew you’d drop everything and come, the voice taunted; you buried it under the song playing and the laughter in the room so you didn’t have to think about it...

“Don’t act like you didn’t have fun when we ran.” He chuckled, hand sliding up your leg again, fingers lacing with your own. The same way they had when you’d been caught, and he’d grabbed your hand, the two of you ducking and weaving between stacks, fleeing through the corridors. Laughing and out of breath, he’d clutched your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles just like he was doing now, staring at you with those pretty eyes.

You hadn't been caught, but you had gotten detention for skipping class to go with him, and so you’d spent all five nights of your final week in detention, writing lines. You lifted your free hand, sighing with a nod, and running it through his curls. His eyes fluttered, head tipping back to follow your hand, and a content smile took over his lips.

You loved to see him like this, to see him so carefree and happy, to see him relax at just your touch. You’d never seen him like this before. The thought that only you could do it to him sent a thrill down your spine, made your thoughts feel hazy and slow, like treacle in your mind, and your nerves tingled. So, why had he never made a move to make it anything more? You’d given him a dozen chances, a dozen more opportunities…

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you this holiday.” He broke your train of thought, eyes opening again to peer up at you, and his lips became a frown as he thought about it. “My father is going to pile on the pressure not that I’m in my graduating year. I can already feel the headache forming right between my eyes.”

“Oh..” You coo, hand slipping down from his hair to rub your thumb over his forehead, the space you know him to get stress headaches the worst, when he works too hard or gets wound up. He just chuckled, eyes sliding shut once again.

The song changed, and his body tensed underneath you for just a second, before his eyes snapped open, gaze locked on you. “This is my favourite song.”

“Is it?” You mumble, finger still tracing lightly over his skin, and he nods.

“I didn’t think Mattheo put it on the playlist. I asked him, and he very emphatically said no.”

“Maybe he changed his mind.” Your shrug doesn’t convince him, not as you both hear Mattheo question the song with a stream of curses somewhere in the distance. His lips twitched at the edges, a small smile, but he said nothing else. Instead, he leaned in, your arm going around his shoulders, rubbing softly as his head nestled onto your shoulder, a sigh on his lips.

It was perfect, just like this. If he could just open his eyes and see, he’d know how wonderful it could be. Nobody knew him like you did, he’d made sure to keep his secrets locked up tight. But over the months of exchanging letters, and candle-lit nights in the library, he’d bore so much of his soul to you.

Deep, wounded parts, that you’d tried to put back together.

Soft, tender parts that he protected so valiantly, but trusted you with.

Sweet, loving parts, that never saw the light of day, unless you were together.

It was impossible, surely, that he didn’t know. He might keep his feelings locked up tight, but you didn’t hide yours very well at all. As you sat here now, fingers weaving through his hair, lips tracing his temple as you whispered nonsense to him about your day, his head on your shoulder, that he didn’t know. Even a man like Tom Riddle couldn't miss it, right?

You just wanted to make him happy, but he didn’t feel the same.

With a heart-aching sigh, you ran your fingers through his curls one more time. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your night. Unrequited love wasn’t going to ruin your Christmas. You would not be one of those girls who gave in to their feelings, and crumbled at the feet of a man who didn’t return her affections.

Sitting up some more, he grumbled at the disruption, blinking his eyes back open as he lifted his head again. “I’m… I’m going to go dance, and play some games, okay?”

“Alright,” He smiled, patting your thigh and lifting his drink away. “Have fun. I’ll probably leave soon. If I don’t see you again, just know I’ll be thinking of you over these holidays. We’ll write again.”

His words send a rush of heat to your cheeks, a tumble of nerves through your stomach, and you could only nod. One more chance, one more chance to make a move…

“Merry Christmas, Tommy,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. A kiss that was purposefully close to the edge of his mouth, a kiss that purposefully lingered just a second too long as you pulled away slowly, giving him a chance to turn his head, to close the gap, to kiss you—

But he didn’t, he only smiled. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

So, you stand. You brush it off. You brush off the moment, and the feelings, and all the disappointment and heartbreak that came with it.

But I can’t do it anymore.

We’ve been housemates for seven years, we’ve been friends for half of those, and I’ve been in love with you for months.

But you don’t love me. Mattheo says you do, says you’re just stupid when it comes to feelings. But, even you couldn't miss how I feel about you.

So, I’m letting you go.

New Year, New Me, New Heart.

“No, your dorm is that way.” You giggle, Mattheo’s arm over your shoulder, pushing him in the direction of the boy’s dorms and pointing. “My dorm is this way!”

“No, you’re wrong!” He mutters, shaking his head dramatically. “Boys to the left,” He says, pointing right, “Girls to the right, because girls are always right!”

“Well, I won’t argue with you there.” You grin, spinning him around. “Wait, now I’m confused. Who’s dorm were we going to again?”

A few too many shots, a few more drinks than your limit at the beer-pong table, and as the last of the party was dying down, you and Mattheo were attempting to stumble back to your dorms. “Theo’s.”

“Right. But why are we going to Theo’s dorm?”

“Because he’s my friend,” Mattheo said. “And also, his bed is next to mine.” Another fit of laughter, drunken giggles melting away, and the two of you collapsed down against the wall, heads tipped back to the stone as amusement took over. When you finally caught your breaths once again, he was smiling, eyes sparkling in that unique Matty-way. Kicking his legs out before himself, he sighed. “Maybe I will just sleep here.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Why?” He pouted, and you searched through your foggy mind for a reason.

“Because you have to sleep in a bed.” Is what you settled on, shrugging your shoulders, even if you were getting a little bit too comfy against the stone too.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” He wiggled his brows, smirking, before burping, and you giggled again.

“No, you may not.”

“Why?” He whined, kicking one leg like a toddler in a tantrum. “You have fluffy pillows.”

“And you have sheets that haven’t been washed in months.” Your nose screwed up, and he let out a dramatic, wounded sound, like a soldier who had just been shot in a war movie.

“That was cold.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Not as cold as the frozen Earth Tom would bury my wee little body in if I spent the night at your dorm.”

You didn’t respond, the mention of his name was like a bucket of ice over your head. Not exactly sobering, but shocking.

“I’m saying he would murder me.”

“Yes, I understood.”

“You didn’t laugh.” He pouted, and you chuckled for his benefit. “No, it’s not real. Now I feel like I begged for it.”

“You did.”

“You suck.”

“You swallow.” You sighed, and he groaned once again, another argument lost. His head rolled to your shoulder, his body slumping into relaxation.

“So… what is the deal with you and my brother?” His lips twisted as he thought about it, but he looked up at you curiously, frown only deepening at the sad look on your face.

“There is no deal.” You shrug, “He doesn’t want me like that. We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” He snorts, “And the sky isn’t blue.”

“I’m serious, Matty. I’ve given him a hundred chances. He could’ve made a move anytime. I haven’t exactly kept my feelings to myself, all you fools can see my heart dripping and bleeding on my sleeve. He knows, he just didn’t want to acknowledge it.” Your lungs burned for air at the end of your speech, and you took a deep breath, staring ahead at the chipping bricks in an attempt to avoid tears. “Why doesn’t he want me, Matty?”

“He does,” Mattheo mumbled, taking your hand in his and squeezing. “He’s just a fucking moron. But, he’s also scared. You know, you’re pretty much all he talks about? And, I never saw him smile so much as he did during the summer, when he’d receive your letters. He’d get all anxious and fidgety every day, waiting for the mail owl to arrive. He’s never going to make the first move. He’d rather suffer for all his life but have you like this, than risk losing you entirely.”

The words felt like a warming blanket and an ice-cold lake. Comforting and terrifying, sweet and burning, all at the same time.

Mattheo huffed a laugh, “Maybe you should write him a love letter.”

“Maybe I should…” You whisper, drunken thoughts taking over, and his head snapped up.

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. That’s a good idea. I should write him a letter, and tell him that I’m moving on.” You brushed your legs off as you stood, taking his hands and pulling him to his feet, determined.

“Okay, that’s not what a love letter is. That’s so far from what I said—”

“Let’s go!” You grabbed his wrist, tugging him along behind you as you made your way through the halls.

“Now? Why are we doing it now? We should be sleeping now!” His protests fell on deaf ears as you dragged him along. Throwing open the door to your room, Daphne was already asleep, still in her party dress, face down on her pillow, out cold from the night’s festivities and snoring.

Mattheo collapsed onto your bed, rolling onto his side and clutching a fluffy cushion to his chest as he curled into a ball.

“I’ll just wait here, then.” He yawned through his words, but you were too busy to care, scrambling for a pot of ink and some new parchment. Taking a seat at your desk, you stared at the paper, quill hovering, ready to write.

So, I will spend the end of this year away from you. You say we’ll write, but I don’t want to.

Only write to me, Tom, if you feel the same. If not, don’t. Let me heal, and when we come back in the New Year, I promise, nothing will change except for my heart.

We will still be friends, best friends, and we’ll never talk about it again.

I will wait for you.

Finishing the letter, you sighed at it, the ink drying and immortalising your words onto the page. Sitting before you was the sum total of what sat in your heart, and your mind. Laid out and ready to go, your hands trembled a little as you read it over, and over, to be sure.

But you had to do this, you had to give this letter to him, to alleviate the strain on your heart, to finally have some closure. Whether he felt the same or not, you’d have relief. Folding it carefully, you searched a strip of wax seal lighting the end and waiting for it to get hot, drips of Slytherin green filling into a pool that overlapped the edge of your paper. When there was enough, you stamped it carefully, sealing it shut as the wax cooled.

Taking a look behind you, you caught sight of a sleeping Mattheo, his jaw hanging open, drooling onto your favourite throw pillow, half tucked under your blankets from where he’s only bothered to cover his legs. Peeling away the wax seal, you walked over to him, shaking his shoulder, until he awoke with a huff and a groan, whining as he sat up.

“I was dreaming.”

“I wrote the letter.” You show him the proof, and he rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, glancing from it, to you, and back. “You have to give it to him.”

“Now?”

“No! Not now. Tomorrow. After we get off the train.” He blinked a little more, waking up from his power nap and taking the paper from you. Flipping it over in his hands, he inspected Tom’s name across the front, no address, and raised his brows.

“Why don’t you mail it?”

“That’ll take days, and I don’t want to leave it up to chance. I need you to give it to him, tomorrow. I know you’ll be swamped with everything your father expects of you both this time of year, events and frivolities and all, but you have to. I don’t want it getting lost amongst other letters and Christmas cards, and such.” Your hands clasped together before you, blinking at him pleadingly, and hoping your puppy-dog eyes were half as good as his.

He sighed, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself as he stood.

“Please, Matty.”

“Fine. I’ll give it to him.” He caved, and you threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly.

“Tomorrow? After you get off the train?”

“Yes. I will give Tom the letter… tomorrow.”

Yours,

If you want me,

(y/n) x

Tom double-checked his bags, sighing as he zipped up the piece of luggage he’d actually have access to on the train, everything he needed to survive a six-hour train journey. A knock sounded from the door, a signature one that only Mattheo ever used, excessively long and irritating, and the door swung open a second later to reveal his brother.

Placing his carry-on down on the bed beside his own, Mattheo slumped out on his freshly-stripped bed. “You took your bags to the carriage already?”

“I got up early.”

“Surprising, I thought I’d have to drag you out of your bed this morning considering how much you drank last night.” He gave his brother a look, a single brow raised, and Mattheo just huffed.

“It’s called having fun, you should try it sometime.”

Tom only rolled his eyes, gaze scanning across the bag Mattheo had abandoned, snagging on the letter sticking out of one pocket. T— was all that was visible. It might have been a card, that someone had addressed it to ‘Theo’ instead of Mattheo, but everyone called him ‘Matt’ if they wanted a nickname, to avoid confusion with Nott.

Curiosity ate at him, and nudging the bag subtly revealed just enough more to show an ‘O’.

Definitely Tom, then. Mattheo was carrying a letter for him, and had not delivered it. Before he could pluck it from the pocket, his brother was sitting up, reaching for his bag and getting to his feet, swinging the letter out of his reach inadvertently.

“Ready to go?”

“Is that letter for me?” Tom burst instead, making another move for the bag. His suspicions were only confirmed when Mattheo shifted his body, pulling the arm carrying the bag away from him, behind his body and out of Tom’s reach. “Why do you have it? When did it arrive?”

Mattheo turned casually, looking down at it, patting it and pushing it back into the bag, deeper. Tom recognised that handwriting now, though, and the urgency swelled. “Uh… last night, I think. But I was a little drunk, so…”

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” Tom pressed, biting his tongue from yelling at his brother, and Mattheo just shrugged.

“Figured I’d give it to you on the train, or something. Or when we got home. It’s just a letter.”

“Yeah…” Tom could only hum in response, his mind spinning a little. Everyone had exchanged gifts and goodbyes last night, before the party. For exactly this reason, to avoid the morning rush to the train, to avoid the hassle in the morning. “But— I saw her last night. Why wouldn't she just give it to me then? Or mail it to me?”

The questions were ceaseless, almost making Tom dizzy as he tried to think them through, and Mattheo could only shrug, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his smile to himself.

“I don’t know, Tom. She just came to me, and asked me to give you that letter because she didn’t want it to get lost amongst other letters, or take too long, or something like that.” It was a small lie, really, fabricated from aspects of the truth.

“So, it’s important, then! It’s obviously important if she couldn't risk it getting lost, if it had to be hand-delivered! I should read it.” Just like that, Tom stepped right into Mattheo’s trap. Now all he had to do was pull the pin, and let the steel jaws snap shut. Yes, it could potentially backfire hugely, but Mattheo was looking on the positive side for this.

“We have to go, Tom. Everyone else has probably already left for the train.” Mattheo swung his bag again, making his point, and kicked Tom’s suitcase from where it sat beside the door towards him to pick up. “Let’s go.”

Tom sighed, grabbing his bags and taking a few steps after him, and didn’t even make it over the threshold of the door before he gave in. His bags dropped from his hands, and planted on his hips instead. “I’m going to read it.”

“Tom—”

“Give me the letter.” He held out his pal, and Mattheo tipped his head to the side, but pressed his lips together to hide a grin. “I’ll catch up, you go. I’ll read it and I’ll catch up, it’s only a letter, can’t take that long.”

He lunged for Mattheo's bag, snatching the crisply pressed paper from the pocket before his brother could stop him. As he turned away, he missed Mattheo’s victorious smile. “Alright, I’ll take your trunk down. Don’t be long, or you’ll miss the train.” And you’ll miss her, were Mattheo’s unspoken words, as he grabbed Tom’s suitcase and disappeared, leaving him alone.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tom’s hand shook a little. The paper felt like it weighed a thousand tons. There was so much unspoken mystery behind it that Tom was sure whatever this letter said, it was not their usual correspondence. Not the chatty, friendly, borderline flirty letters they’d send each other when apart, this was more.

Sliding his thumb neatly under the wax seal he was so familiar with, Tom popped open the letter, unfolding it carefully and flipping it around to read.

His gaze scanned over the paper, lips flicking up at the use of the nickname he only allowed you to use, the swirl of your handwriting that he loved so much. The smile didn’t last long, however, and neither did the breath in his lungs as his chest seized. He read it.

Over and over again, he read the letter.

The minutes melted past as he absorbed what it said, until he could read the letter word for word without looking at it, tattooed into his mind now like a brand. With trembling fingers, he folded the letter back up carefully, lifting the paper to his lips as his eyes slid shut.

His heart was pounding, more so than he’d ever felt. Tom was not one for rash decisions and sudden jumps, everything was calculated and thought through and planned. But this, this was you. This is just what you did, forced him to let go of routine and be spontaneous, forced him to be carefree, to loosen the grip he had on the reigns, to show him he wouldn't fall apart at the slightest breeze.

He smiled against the letter, thoughts of you flicking through his mind.

And then a clock chimed, and he jumped violently within as he was rushed back to reality in a split second. The clock in the common room chimed loudly, echoing through the empty dorms and halls.

Rushing to his feet, Tom opened his bag, tucking the letter safely inside one of his books to preserve it, to tuck it inside the box of letters from you that was tucked under his bed at home. You doubted him, his feelings, unsure he’d kept that first letter, when in reality, he’d kept every single one.

Every letter, every note, even the silly little joke you scribbled on torn-off pieces of paper and threw at him in class, he kept them all.

Zipping his bag back up and grabbing it, he had no time to spare, racing to the chimes of the clock through the castle, to the front gates where the final carriage was leaving.

It felt too long. Too long as the horses plodded through the snow, too long as the wheel scrolled slowly, and his foot tapped agitatedly on the floor in a way he never allowed himself to do. His thumbnail was between his teeth, flicking between the frost-covered ground and his bag, wondering if it would actually be faster to run there himself.

Ahead, the train sounded its horn. The final warning for all students to begin boarding and settling in, because they’d be departing soon.

You watched as the trunks were beginning loaded onto the train, all to be collected when you arrived in London, only letting out a breath of relief as Mattheo rounded the corner, finally joining your group.

“Matty! About time, we were worried you’d miss the train.” Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he sighed, a little out of breath, and hugged you back once he dropped the two bags in his hands. Nobody followed him, and your brows furrowed, pulling back, “Where’s Tom?”

“He’s probably already on the train, sulking somewhere. He’s never late.” Theo snickered, and you rolled your eyes, smacking him across the shoulder for his joke.

“Blaise is inside holding a cabin for us, is Tom not sitting with us?” Enzo questioned, and you turned to Mattheo, waiting for answers.

“He’ll be here, trust me.”

“He’s late?” Draco asked, quickly followed by Enzo and Theo, all discussing it. Regulus stayed quiet, smoking and trying to hide it from being seen, but his expression was just as concerned as everyone else’s.

The chatter continued on, by your worry didn’t cease, checking up and down the platform as people bustled and crowded it. Saying their final goodbyes and giving out hugs, climbing on and off the train as they all wished one another Merry Christmas, and being unable to see either end was causing your anxiety to rocket higher.

The train horn blared again, and students began to board. “Mattheo, seriously, where is he—” Just like that, you saw him, the busy platform parting to let him through, the look on his face as terrifying as ever, and people moved out of his way as he made his way towards your group.

“Told you he’d be here,” Mattheo smirked, and you raised a brow.

“The hell did you say to him this morning, Matt?” Regulus questions.

“He looks mad,” Draco murmured.

“He looks like he’s plotting.” Enzo corrected.

Every step closer rose the tension as Tom finally looked up, his sights setting on you, and his jaw clenched. Brows drawn in, he did look like he was plotting, like a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind that he couldn't sort through.

“Hey, man. We thought you were gonna’ miss the—” Draco’s words cut off at your squeak, as Tom stepped closer, never stopping the movements of his body until he was cupping your cheeks, his mouth descending upon your own.

You were almost knocked backwards from the force of it, your hands gripping at his shoulders as he bent you over backwards, a kiss so intense your knees almost went weak.

It was desperate, you could barely keep up, kissing back as best you could through your shock, until it wore off enough to reciprocate. Wrapping one arm around his neck, your other slipped to his face, his own hands making their way down, to band around your waist and pull you in closer, until your bodies were flush.

His tongue licked into your mouth, a sigh escaping you as he did, and your heart pounded against your heart, the same way he was doing, felt through his jumper and layers. The boys were whistling, cheering and hooting, and if you weren’t so happy you’d have been embarrassed by the show they were making, and the attention they were no doubt drawing.

When he finally pulled back, you panted softly, his forehead resting on your own, blinking his eyes open to meet your gaze.

“Can I write to you regardless?” He mumbled, voice rough and tense with emotion, and your brows furrowed.

“Wh— What?”

He leaned in, not helping you clear your dazed mind at all as he kissed you again, and again, until you were smiling, fingers clenched so tight in his coat that your knuckles were white, just to stay upright.

You pecked his lips once more, chasing him as he pulled back, and the train horn sounded, a final warning, but you didn’t care. “You know how I feel now. You don’t have to wait for my reply. You can be assured that I will miss you dearly over these two weeks, and I am already counting the minutes until I see you again. But can I write to you, still?”

As the realisation set in, your face flamed, jaw dropping a little bit, and he wasted no opportunity, kissing you softly. “You read my letter.”

He only nodded, a gentle chuckle onto your mouth as your lips brushed. “You’d leave it to Mattheo to deliver? He’d probably lose it at a McDonalds, trying to get a Big Mac before my father saw him, on the way home.

Your laughter was sweet, a puffed-out sound as his hands smoothed up and down your back. “I’d love to get more letters from you, Tommy. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you in person, but I was scared. I thought I’d made my feelings for you obvious, and you didn’t reciprocate, so I had to write that letter. To get it out, to finalise it all.”

“I like to consider myself a smart man, you know. When it comes to you, clearly, I’m a fool. You leave me speechless, and without proper thoughts, every time. All I can think about is how pretty you are, and how much I like you, despite my best efforts not to.”

The declaration was so utterly Tom, to hate being in love even if he loved it.

“For Salazar’s sake, what have you done, Matt?” Theo cussed, and you twisted your head to look at him. “Shakespeare over here is going to be writing sonnets for the rest of the year. None of us will stand a chance with any other girls when he’s showing us up, standing under windows, yelling his love to the moon.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring their nonsense. Tom did the same, nuzzling his nose against your cheek, and leaving a kiss there.

“I’ll look forward to your letters, just as I did in the summer.” You whisper, pulling away from him as the platform clears, most students already aboard now.

“And after?” Tom questions, “May I still write you letters if I, too, find myself struggling to confess my feelings in person?”

“Oh, God,” Enzo muttered. “He’s going to be writing love letters all year. He’s making the rest of us sound like cavemen. Me, you, bed, now.” He grunted, smacking a fist in his chest. You giggled as Tom rolled his eyes.

“We should get on the train.” You whisper, taking pity on the others and untangling yourself from his arms.

Tom took his bag again, and your own. With a final kiss on your cheek, he walked away to the door of the carriage, letting the rest of you follow behind. Mattheo fell into step beside you, smirking as he bumped your hips with his own.

“So, should I tell my mother and father that they have a new daughter-in-law this holiday, or wait ‘til the next.”

His teasing made you blush again, cheeks already red in the cold, warming you under all those layers. “You’re a filthy traitor. You gave him my letter early.”

“I said I’d give it to him ‘tomorrow’. Never agreed to the after the train part.” He tutted, proud of himself. “Always pay attention to the words of a contract. My dear brother taught me that. You never have to break a promise, if you’re smart with your words.”

That sounded exactly like something your man would say, your eyes rolling to the Heavens.

Mattheo leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper as the pair of you climbed the steps. “You never have to break your heart either, if you’re smart about who you give it to.”

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle/reader #tom riddle/you #tom riddle x you #hp #christian coulson #slytherin boys

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vaguely-concerned · 3 months

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Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.) This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that.

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them.

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly.

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much.

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.)

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

#garashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek ds9 #ds9 #star trek #ds9 meta #S2EP22 The Wire #alternate title: baby's first brush with unconditional love through unreliable narration lol #I'm not sure I got to say everything I want to in this/found the exact right words in places or hit all the nuances #but god help me I so desperately need this out of my brain to free up some disc space so go forth little meta haha be free #I'm sure I'll come back to you in time #meta #enabran tain #(derogatory)

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igotanidea · 1 year

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More than blood: batboys x bat!sister

Dick was not the first one who was adopted by Bruce.

Y/N was.

And if you talk about the eldest daughter complex she was the perfect example of it.

Y/N was so much like her adoptive father. Quiet, observant, seemingly emotionally cold yet charming and enticing when circumstances called for it. Smart like hell. She knew exactly how to take care of herself, and yet, Bruce being himself was always hesitant to let her out into the streets of Gotham at night. But she fought for it. Hard. She had no natural talent for fight, but she was fast, flexible and imperceptible in the shadows. Slowly, but steadfastly she gathered enough strength and skills to become the very first Batman’s sidekick. She was not a fan of a traditional way of training. Boxing, weight lifting and throwing punches wasn’t exactly her style, but she was extremely good with skates and rollerblades and all the moves that involved a bit of dance-like moves. So that was how Bruce trained her. Three-turns, brackets and rockers just came naturally to her, both on ice on the ground and she was soon the best of the best. When she was ready to come on patrol, Bruce created the most cliche name for her.

Batgirl.

Which she instantly refused, instead choosing to go by the name of Cover. After all, that was what she was doing. Covering.

At first, it was only Bruce and Alfred she was taking care of. Never pushing anything but always finding a way to make sure they did the right thing. Listening carefully to their every word, getting her head around any possible situation and just being there when they needed her. She was not a people pleaser and definitely wasn’t going out of her own way for them (and that was the hot spot between her and Bruce), but in times of need and crisis she was the best possible support. Unwavering. Strong. Persistent.

And then, Dick came in. Of course, having younger brother (even if there was barely half a year age gap) put a lot more pressure on her shoulder. So she did her best to connect with him. It was hard, no denying. Dick has just lost his parents and he was harsh and murky and a bit unpredictable. But she did not give up making sure he will finally warm up to her. And maybe Bruce.

“What are you doing?” one day, after particularly rough training with Bruce he came across her while she was working out

“Oh, you know. I was never good with all those flips” she lowly lifted herself from the floor, rubbing sweat from her forehead, her hair being a total mess. “Bruce insisted I learned some, but I was always better with my speed, skate figures and fast-thinking than actual acrobatics. However” she raised an eyebrow at the boy “I heard you are the master in the field. Care to show me a few tricks? Unless you prefer to sulk in the corner….” She smirked

And so they connected. Creating a lot of inside jokes during the year, being the support for each other. Of course, as older sister Y/N had no problem in literally smacking his head when he did something stupid and as younger brother he had no inhibitions in scaring her potential boyfriends away, but yes, they were close.

And then, Jason came in. The rowdy kid from the Crime Alley and she had to figure out another way to reach him. It didn’t take a lot of time to notice he was interested in literature, so she started leaving books around in the manor. Mostly classics, like Jane Austen and Shakespeare, but from time to time she risked more modern writers. He always took them from the place they were and returned a couple days later. He was a fast reader. One night, when he returned from patrol, all fuming and on the verge of breaking, he noticed a light coming out of her room and due to some crazy feelings took a few steps towards there.

“Hello, Jason” he might have been quiet, but she was the first trained by Bruce, so the poor boy has no chance not to be noticed. She turned in her chair and smiled lightly “It’s good to see you. So it happens I got tickets for a midsummer night’s dream. Two tickets. Would you maybe ….”

“Yes. Yes, please, take me with you.” his eyes was glistening with so much hope she would choose him, it made her want to cry and laugh at the same time. Pushing aside the urge to hug Jason (it was too early for that and he would not appreciate) she just nodded. And there was the connection.

And then, there was Tim. The Brainiac. Coffee addict. Sleep deprived. Constantly working, cracking cases. And being quite successful at it, even if sometimes he took the long road instead of connecting the dots to create the shortcuts.

“How’s the case going?” she asked at breakfast one time, noticing Tim’s tired eyes and disheveled hair. He wasn’t sleeping well that night, but what’s new.

“It’s not.” he groaned pecking at his food not really eating any of it “and stop making fun out of me because of it!”

“Fun?” she almost choked on her toast “Really, Tim? I’m not happy at all that you are missing the most obvious piece of the puzzle.”

“The most ob….? You were compromising my work?!”

“I was …. Checking your work” now, she had to be extremely careful with words “And what I found out is that you definitely have a criminal mind. But” she raised a hand stopping him before he could say a thing “you are also awfully messy, Tim. You splattered some coffee on the sheets and blurred the numbers. And that is why you couldn’t reach the conclusion.”

“I…. What!?”

“Hate to break it to you, champ.” She shrugged taking a sip of her own coffee “but apart from that, you did a really good job with the task.”

And with a couple more cases like this they got into real sibling relationship.

Damian was the hardest one. Trained by the assassin, treated like a threat and a menace, far more tough than Jason, cruel and with no moral compass. Not by his fault. He was the one who needed some soft care most of them all, but would never accept. So there were two options, get to him with fighting skills or by using his art adoration. She couldn’t just leave art supplies for him like she did with Jason and books, but she got one more idea, which required a bit of Alfred’s help.

‘Rough night miss y/n?” the butler asked when the girl emerged from the batcave, covered in bandages and patches.

“You have no idea, Alfred” she yawned “At first B had me running around the streets creating some sort of diversion for him, since none of the Robins where available “ a quick glance towards her three brothers “and when I got back I got lost into my latest painting…..” she trailed waiting for Damian’s reaction. Seemingly nothing has changed, but she looked carefully enough to notice his eyebrows lifting slightly and his body shift towards her to hear better. Gotcha!

“The castle?” Alfred asked, curiosity in his voice

“Yes. I’m almost finished and I think I will need some help in hanging it in the living room soon. Will you be so kind with it Alfred?”

“Of course, miss Y/N.”

A couple days later, the painting did hang on the wall and some Sunday afternoon she found Damian standing in front of it and looking it up and down.

“I could have used a bit more blue on the edges.” She said stopping by his right side.

“Not just blue.” He retorted

“Nighttime blue?” she asked

“Nighttime blue” he said at the same time and their gazes met. She tilted her head slightly while Damian’s face showed a bit of surprise. He was so young and so wrongly treated it was almost unfair.

“I know, but it’s too close to the color of Dick’s suit. He would never let me live it through.” She let out a laugh and Damian smirked.

“I got an idea of how we can improve your next painting if you ever were to create another.”

“Oh, you think you are better than me in the art field?” she gasped grabbing her heart in fake hurt

“I know I am.”

“Wanna bet?”

And so he warmed up to her as well. It seemed like all of the batboys were prone to her silent charm. But obviously there were times when she had bad days. Being the one with the longest training, seeing most of the violent things and crimes and living thought her own tragic events sometimes, in the times of greatest stress she was just becoming completely silent. Not able to say a word, getting through the days like a ghost, wanting to disappear, getting lost inside her own head. Usually, it lasted up to four or five days, and it was normal. Just a sign for Bruce to put her off the patrol so she can get through whatever was going on inside her head. He wasn’t the one to actually talk a lot about feelings and emotions, but even Batman had to be alerted after two weeks of radio silence on her part.

From the little intel he had on her since she left the manor he learned that for the last days she wasn’t eating properly, struggling with her work, looking tired and worn out even though she was sleeping a lot. Something was off and the only people who could actually be of help would be her brothers. Dick was in Bludhaven, Jason was running around the Crime Alley, Tim was busy with work for Wayne Enterprises and Damian, well…there was no way of figuring out what he was up to. Bruce groaned not really sure how to call the boys for rescue but it was about Y/N so he just used the unofficial channel and simply called all of them. He did not expect that they would gang up and show at the manor at the exact same time. Those stone walls haven’t; heard that much of a banter and silly fights for a while and despite everything, deep, deep inside Bruce was glad they came.

“Let’s be clear. I’m here only because of Y/n.” Jason stated bluntly “nothing more”

“thank god, I thought Red Hood was getting soft” Dick punched his arm playfully and was surprised with how hard his little brother’s muscle were.

“If you want me to show you…..”

“Where exactly is Y/N?” Tim interrupted his brothers fight, focusing on the most important matter

“And where are her paintings?” Damian frowned looking around.

“She moved out some time ago and took her works with her.” Bruce hissed. It was somewhat …. painful to admit that she left.

“Where?” Jason hissed

None of them cared that it was the middle of the day and their sister was probably at work. They had their own methods of getting inside the building unnoticed and years of training came extremely useful in that case.

Poor Y/N. Work was hard, as usual during the last couple days, she was tired and sad and dealing with a lot of thoughts. Even her usual way of blowing steam off while skating or rollerblading wasn’t helping. She might have left her vigilante persona behind, but old habits die hard and when she climbed up the step to her apartment she could not fail to notice shadows on the floor and almost inaudible voices coming from the inside. Her instincts immediately kicked in when she put the bag down, bracing herself and busted through the door. Her first, perfectly aimed punch met with Tim’s stomach and the half-turn kick got Damian falling onto the ground. It took both Dick and Jason to stop her from making any more damage.

“Calm down Y/N! It’s just us” Jason calmed her down smirking, surprised with her skills that wasn’t gone.

“Will you behave?” Dick added making sure she wasn’t going to attack them again and only then letting her go

“What the hell?!” she hissed getting free of her brother’s grip “what are you four doing here?!”

“since when do you know how to punch?” Tim groaned “I thought that wasn’t your style?”

“I expanded my skill set. Out of everyone here you should be the one to appreciate it, Tim.”

“I would esteem it better if it wasn’t aimed at me.”

“Right. Sorry. But the question remains. What the hell are you doing here?! You know, I;m used to one Robin, or former Robin, come around from time to time, but this?”

“Father called upon us. He was worried something was off with you.” Damian spat getting off the floor, embarrassment visible on his face.

“Bruce was worried?” she laughed ironically “Right. Sure. He was the reason I left the manor. Should have taken example from you Dick and run the hell away ten years ago.”

“It was five….” Dick tried to chime in but she did not let him

“And now he’s so worried he won’t even visit me by himself. Instead he just send a rescue party?” she turned around and slumped on the couch

“Y/N…..” Jason tried to reason with her “come on, tell your favorite brother what happened”

“For once I agree with Todd. Tell your favorite brother what is wrong. I mean, me, of course in case someone does not get the clue” Damian hissed taking a spot next to Y/N before anyone else could do it.

“Cut it guys, everyone knows I’m her favorite. I know her the longest of us all and I know everything about her.” Dick objected, crossing his arms with a wide smile, being so sure no one could threaten his position

“Everything?” Tim scoffed “You have no idea about half of the things she likes. I learned them. By myself.”

“Yeah, by spying on her. You call that a good relationship?”

“I do not spy!”

“Cut it, replacement. We all know the most bonding thing are inside jokes. And we have plenty since we read the same books. You wouldn’t even get half of our quotes!”

“Let me get my gear and I’ll show you how half of a quote look like. Art is what connects people and you all are just nonentity in that area. Not like me. Besides, I was training with her the most, so…..” Damian interrupted and at this moment all four boys were just shouting at each other while their sister was sitting on the sofa watching the scene in front of her eyes without any word.

“Get out.” She finally said. Quietly, but they heard her and stopped immediately “All of you. Get out. Now. “

“Y/n….” Dick was first to notice his sister’s pale skin and shaking hands “Please….”

“No.” she shook her head “I;ve had enough. This is exactly why I was always making sure you won’t show up at my place at once. You just can’t seem to fight who’s better or stronger or smarter or more skilled. It’s been like that all our time together. You just try so hard to outdo one another. “

“Well, I mean, she’s not wrong” Jason smirked running a hand through his hair and was instantly met with four pairs of reproachfully eyes “sorry….”

“Is that what bothers you?” Tim asked silently bending down to look into her eyes.

“What? No. Hell no. Why do you think something bothers me?” she stood up abruptly heading to the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water. Shit, Tim was always the one to crack her faster than others.

“You have cuts on your forearms.” Red Robin pointed and she tried to cover them quickly

“And a bruise on the neck.” Damian added following her

“Those kind of traces that does not come from skating.” Jason poked at her skates thrown on the floor in the corridor

“And that means you….I mean, Cover, has been active again.” Dick finalized. “Why?”

“Oh, come in….” she was getting more and more nervous with every minute “is this an interrogation now?”

“No. This are four brothers concerned about their sister well-being. Does that sound better.”

“Vaguely.”

“Why did you put on the suit again?”

“Because I wasn’t feeling enough!” she spat and immediately covered her mouth to stop the sob coming next

“What?!” Jason hissed and grabbed her hand which made her flinch “oh, so you hurt your hands as well. Not so much about expanding your skills in punching, hm?”

“Shut up.” She hissed back at him, sticking her tongue out

“That’s a very mature behavior for the oldest one” Damian pointed “but Grayson’s question is still on. Why did you pick up the mantle again? You said you were done?”

“I was. Until one night I heard the weeps and screams of my neighbor being beaten by her boyfriend.”

“Y/N….”

“And the other time, when I heard on the news how Nightwing got beaten while protecting people who were trapped in the fire….”

“I did not…..”

“Oh, and that one time when some little bird brought the news about Red Hood getting in trouble in the Crime Alley and almost dying? Again.”

“ok, it wasn’t even half as bad…..” Jason tried to defend himself

“And then, Red Robin and Robin. Running loose without batman. Dealing with criminals on their own accords and getting involved in the shooting?”

“It was Drake’s fault!” Damian cried out and Tim just punched him lightly

“Stop it.” Red Robin hissed at his younger brother “let her make a point, because it’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

“Come on, sis, tell us” Jason crouched next to her and squeezed her hands lightly

“I…. I can’t”

“Of course you can. There’s no shame in anything. Safe space. And as your big brother, I have duty to make sure you are all right.”

“You are younger than me, Dick.”

“Barely younger. And still, the oldest brother. “

“Come on, Y/N. Just spit it out.”

“Fine. Fine. Just quit looking at me like that. It’s creepy. I… I might have gotten into a bad relationship…..

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down, Damian. It wasn’t that serious. I kicked his butt first time he came at me….”

“WHAT?! I’m gonna find him. I’m gonna find him and…..” Dick caught his younger brother before he could get out and really find and eliminate the guy.

“It’s in the past. But you know, all that got me thinking. About who I was in the past. The cover. And how you guys were always out there, putting your lives at risk while I was just sitting at home, watching and doing nothing…..”

“so you thought it would be good idea to just go out on patrol by yourself.” Tim threw his arms in the air in frustration “Y/N, you know better than that.”

“Come on, what was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Call me….” Jason said, but corrected himself due to Damian poking him in the ribs “I mean…. Us.”

“How could I?” she rolled her eyes. “You guys have enough on your plates without me.”

“This is unbelievable” Tim scoffed

“You never patrol alone and we would never let you do it” Damian added

“What do you mean without you?” Dick narrowed his eyes at their sister “do you think you are some sort of burden?”

“Well…. I…. um…..”

“Are you insane?” Jason was the first one to burst. “Are you insane?”

“You do realize we are family, right?”

“This is a pretty crazy family.”

“Sure, but at the end of the day we watch each other’s back and that’s why we are all….alive.”

“Ekhem….”

“Sorry, Jayson, but we are alive. Some of us get to be alive more than once, but still.”

“I hate you, Dickhead”

“Look Y/N, no matter what you need to know you are important. You were the one to always take care of all of us, so, just for once, let us do the same.”

“But isn’t that what the eldest sibling of the family is supposed to do?”

“Since when do you care about supposed to do?”

“Never did. But I care about you guys and…..”

“Let us help Y/N. You are not alone. “

“I know. “

“So why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying!”

“You are!”

“Stop it! It’s just …. Nice, to know someone cares about you, all right? That is… new.”

“Come here, you silly one.” Dick crushed her in a bear hug to the point where it was nearly impossible to breathe “you’re not doing it again alone, you hear me?”

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“I’m thinking.….. just for the sake of all times…. A little night patrol with all your crazy brothers?”

“Dunno. Is Red Hood ready to work with the bats?” she smirked at Jason.

“Just this once. And we stay out of the Crime Alley.” He shook his head in disapproval but his words were contradiction to his action.

“How about our little Robins?”

“I’m not little!” Damian yelled

“Neither am I, but still I’m down. It’s been a while and I’m wondering if you really did enhanced your fighting skills.” Tim smiled

“So, it’s settled. Everyone meet me here at the dawn?”

“You sure you can handle four vigilantes in your tiny apartment?”

“I’ve been doing it my whole life. And I can always ground you. Big sister privilege.”

She smiled at her brothers and despite their protests she was now feeling so much better. Just knowing that she had someone (more than one) to rely on made her feel valued and cared for. This family was more than blood and they were protectors of each other as much as of Gotham.

#batboys x reader #batboys x batsis #batfamily x reader #batsis #batfam x batsis #batfam x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #timothy drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin dc #batboys x y/n #batboys x you #batfam x you #batfam #batfamily

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rin-fukuroi · 5 months

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧! [𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: Blade x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing, just cute fluff~

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. 音阙诗听, 赵方婧, 昆玉 - 端午节

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

Sometimes it's nice to remember that Blade can be very caring and sweet, even if you don't think of him that way right away. I hope this warm and cozy evening with him will bring you joy and New Year's mood (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Tiny splashes settle on the skin of your hand when you lazily tear the peel of a tangerine, filling the room with a characteristic sour smell. So calm and peaceful that you almost fall asleep, sprawled on the table with the soft sound of the TV on, just like your sullen lover with his arms crossed over his chest. Heavy eyelids cover the man's scarlet eyes every now and then, but he continues to sit steadfastly on the chair straight while you carefully peel the tangerine slices from excess white veins before handing one to Blade. He doesn't even bother to pick it up, instead just opening his lips and letting you put the citrus slice on his tongue. You rest your head on your palm, watching the man's eyes close as he pops a juicy piece of tangerine in his mouth, silently enjoying the sweet and sour taste before slowly chewing and swallowing.

You like such quiet and cozy evenings. Blade doesn't come home as often as you would like, so you especially appreciate even the time spent like this, in peace and quiet, satisfied only with his presence next to you. To tell you the truth, you wouldn't mind just taking one of the softest blankets you can find in your house, draping it over your shoulders and taking a little nap, basking in the warmth created by your and Blade's bodies pressed against each other. And it would have been the perfect end to the evening, if not for one "but".

— Blade, — you mumble softly, spreading out even more on your own palm, catching the mumble of a man barely distinguishable from the noise of the TV, it seems, gradually losing the battle with sleep. — Let's take a walk.

— Why?

— Well… the New Year is coming soon after all. Although I like our gatherings at home, but who knows when you'll have to leave again.

Blade mumbles something unintelligible again, reluctantly opening his eyes and fixing his gaze on your sleepy face.

— And where do you want to go?

— I don't even know, — you throw your head back thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling. — We can just go wherever we want!

— That still doesn't answer my question.

A heavy sigh.

— Don't be such a bore! It's just a walk, it doesn't have to have any purpose.

Blade lets out a short sigh, looking at your pouty face as you pop a slice of tangerine into your mouth. Even if he always looks sullen, often stubborn and boring you with his taciturnity or, on the contrary, excessive meticulousness, it's really hard for him to deny you what you want.

— Okay. Just for a little while, I'd still like to take a nap.

You instantly perk up, bursting out of your seat and moving closer to Blade, breaking into a satisfied smile.

— Seriously?!

The man can barely contain either another sigh, or a laugh caused by your funny reaction.

— Seriously.

✧ ✧ ✧

The spicy smell of baking and tea is in the slightly frosty night air, and the lively noise of festive bustle can be heard from the streets. Such a bright contrast compared to that quiet evening, which you both refused, but you are even more inspired by that, running your eyes over each elegant Christmas tree, sparkling lights in the windows and small shops, from where the mouth-watering smells of New Year's treats come.

— Tch, where were you in such a hurry? — Blade grumbles in displeasure, obscuring your delightful view with his tall figure.

You barely had time to open your mouth to scold the man, when suddenly your own soft scarf was pressed to your lips, which Blade carefully wrapped tighter around your neck. You wince and sneeze when the lint tickles your nose, giving your lover a pouty look.

— I wasn't cold.

— Your cheeks are red, — Blade raises an eyebrow, loosely tying the ends of the scarf on your chest before stepping aside again.

— A light frost hasn't harmed anyone yet, — you mumble dissatisfactionedly into your scarf, grabbing Blade's hand again and continuing your leisurely walk.

It didn't take you long to find a new reason to be excited when a shop with caramel apples caught your curious eyes, just as Blade didn't need words to fatally proceed to it, leaving you on a bench nearby. Then hot tea with spices, cute Christmas decorations, near which you hung around for several minutes, desperately fighting a verbal battle with Blade for the fact that you just need them.

Although it might seem that you were being followed by someone who looked more like a gloomy stalker dressed in a black cloak, a scarf covering half of your face, and a hat than your boyfriend, when you rushed forward, finding a new object of genuine interest for yourself, the concern of others receded when Blade over and over again, he caught you by the hand, then pulling you away from another food store, lamenting that later you would complain of abdominal pain, then humbly buying what you liked.

Time flew by so quickly. You haven't felt this childish carelessness for so long that you just gave yourself up to this fleeting feeling, ignoring how tired your legs were, and not paying attention to how there were almost no people around you two. Blade just listened to your endless chatter in silence, allowing himself, even if only for one evening, to relax, succumbing to your infectious carelessness.

— Y/N, it's time for us to get back.

You turn around when you feel Blade stop, still holding your petite hand tightly in his.

— Oh, already? — you sigh in disappointment, burying your nose deeper into your cozy scarf. There's not a soul around you. The noise of conversations and footsteps disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the distant sounds of stalls closing and lights fading. — Yes, you're right.… Shall we go home then?

You smile softly with a slight note of sadness in your voice, already about to go in the opposite direction, but you feel Blade's hand still holding you in place, forcing you to turn around, puzzled.

— Is something wrong? — you return to your seat across from Blade, looking questioningly into his scarlet eyes peeking out from under a soft black scarf.

The man just continues to stare at you in silence for a while, which should have seemed scary and strange to you if you didn't know Blade, but you just keep looking back at him, slightly narrowing your eyes, until he finally bends over. The fingertips of his free hand lower the scarf from your face, gently cupping your jaw. You barely have time to figure out what's going on, just about to open your mouth to start talking, but the words just stick in your throat when Blade's slightly cool but soft lips are pressed against yours.

Just for a few seconds, but you manage to feel his warm breath on the skin of your face, the light spicy aroma that permeated his clothes and hair, and the sweet taste of caramel. Blade so rarely takes the initiative in physical intimacy that you just freeze, allowing him to leave this short but tremulous kiss on your lips before he silently pulls away, for a moment lingering on your flushed face, either from frost or embarrassment.

— Wh-what are you doing all of a sudden?.. — you blink in confusion, squeezing his big hand tighter.

— I thought I'd better do it myself before you make me.

You follow Blade's gaze as he looks up, noticing a sprig of mistletoe hanging over both of you. Slowly, but still, the realization of what happened comes to you, and you gasp loudly, returning your gaze to Blade, whose face is already buried in a voluminous scarf again.

— Have you been deliberately lulling my vigilance all this time so that I forget that I want to kiss you first?!

You pout, pretending to look offended. It's even good that his face is now covered with a scarf, and you don't see how the corners of Blade's lips lifted in a smile just looking at how your eyebrows are slightly frowning, but your eyes are still sparkling with genuine joy.

— Yes, that's right.

— This is terribly mean! — you keep grumbling even as you both turn around to walk back home as slowly as you came to this cozy place. — Next time I'll take you right under the mistletoe and do it first, you'll see!

Blade nods softly, interlacing his gloved fingers with yours.

— I'll be waiting.

#headcanons #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail #honkai:star rail x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #hsr drabbles #blade #blade x reader #blade x you #blade fluff

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auspicioustidings · 5 months

Text

Firewatch Part 12

Summary: You've been with these men for a month now, and you are starting to get a little too comfortable.

Words: 1.8k

Notes: This is sort of turning down the path of being very fluffy, oops! Probably 1 or 2 more chapters to go, we are getting into the endgame :)

The tension in the cabin got thicker by the day. It had been a month you had been here now, and since cuddling up with Gaz that night you had steadfastly refused any physical affections from your captors. You slept in whichever bed was empty given that once everything had settled you discovered they took turns doing an overnight watch in the tower after dinner.

Johnny was probably the most openly antsy about everything. He had been yelled at several times for cornering you while you were alone, telling you to ask him to kiss you. Everytime you grit your teeth and said nothing even though the more you got to know him, the more you wanted to just give in.

Given time to level out was terrible for your libido in that everything was setting it off. You couldn't take care of yourself properly either because the only times you were alone were in the bathroom (and you knew that if you took a long shower they would know exactly what you had been doing) and in one of their beds (if you touched yourself surrounded by their smell is was going to be over for you). At this point you were scared to do it really, scared to be vulnerable in this place.

Not that anybody said anything out loud about it, but they had installed motion sensors and cameras around the perimeter of the cabin. You knew they worked because whenever you were taken out a walk (always by two of them, never one alone) there was a beep when you crossed the sensor that sounded in the cabin. You'd fucked your only shot at an easy escape, maybe your only shot at any escape. The worst of it was you were getting comfortable.

It was like living with room mates really, they were respectful as they could be. You took turns cooking. On nights Johnny was supposed to cook one of them would go into town in their truck to pick up take away. You asked for ingredients a week in to make something and had been added to the rotation since then. Simon only bought Dosia the most expensive food money could buy and she had turned into the most pampered cat on the planet, a role she was thoroughly enjoying. You had been turned into much the same it felt, but the difference was she was allowed to leave. You hated when she was gone for longer stretches of time because if she was out enjoying the great outdoors, you were left without your one source of affection. You could not let yourself be physically affectionate with these men, not if you wanted to keep up any will to escape.

“Look Johnny has to be a witch at this point.”

“I’m naw a witch!”

“I agree with you sweetheart, definitely a witch” Simon nodded in agreement with you.

“Traitor!”

“Look it’s nothing personal, I just cannot abide a filthy witch in my town,” Gaz said as he lay down as many accusation cards as he had.

Which of course was what you had been waiting for. You had been convincing everyone Johnny was a witch this whole game and your turn was next. So once Kyle was done you popped down a lovers card on Johnny, thus linking his fate to Simon, and finished him off with a few accusation cards to kill them both in one go.

Of course neither were witches and with John already out of the game and making dinner, Kyle was left the only poor villager left with the witch, meaning you had won.

“You lied to me!” he whined at you.

“Sure did bud, that is what witches are known to do.”

“We need tae get the firewood! Only proper way tae deal with a witch is tae burn her at the stake!”

“Ah how quickly Johnny starts talking about killing me again.”

“This was not what I signed up for when I said I wouldn't let anyone kill you sweetheart, I was under the impression you were a decent human being and not a murderous traitor witch.”

“Yikes, still made the deal though didn't you? Anyone burning me at the stake gets served to Dosia. You know, my black cat.”

“We've been blind! Had a familiar right under our noses this whole time. How could you luv?”

“Ye all ken that tae really see if she's a witch we would need tae search her for a witch mark” Johnny said, a slight gleam in his eyes as they ran up and down your body.

“As if you'd even know what to do with one” you snipped back before blowing a raspberry at him.

“Save me Si, bonnie is casting a wicked spell on me! I'm naw long for this world!”

“Alright children if you're all done with the dramatics it's time to eat” Price called from the kitchen, a fond laugh just hidden behind the words.

“Go ahead sweetheart, I'll tidy up.”

“Thanks honey” Gaz shot back, cheekily grabbing your wrist to tug you along to the kitchen island to sit and eat.

You chuckled along with him when Simon had lobbed the little gavel game piece at his head in retribution and elbowed Johnny when he snuck up while this was happening to squeeze your waist which made you jump and yelp. It wasn't until you were sat stuffing your face with Shepherd's Pie that you realised you hadn't even flinched at the casual touch.

“Nearly forgot, I have a present for my best girl” Simon grinned as he finished his food, going to root about in the bag sitting on the kitchen counter.

It wasn’t like you were excited or anything. Definitely not happy to be on the receiving end of that (if you thought it enough maybe it’d be true). You could only sit in slack jawed disbelief as he lured Dosia over with coos and a held out hand so he could adorn her with a pretty tartan collar complete with a bow. It wasn't like you had expected that you were getting a present or anything. And it absolutely didn't make you feel in a huff over it. It didn’t hurt or anything.

“Good thing I made dessert since I think you've unsweetened our little bird” John said, letting Kyle start to clear away the plates so he could start dishing up Eton mess.

You gaped and tried to come up with something clever to say, failing miserably which only wound up with Johnny slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Dae ye want one? Hers is pretty but my tartan would be best on ye I think. Bonnie collar for a bonnie lassie.”

He was playful and joking but oh wow you could feel the tips of your ears burning and when he noticed his eyes went wide as he considered the implications of what he had said and considered the implications of your reaction to it. It all happened in the course of a second and then you were excusing yourself quickly to the bathroom before anyone else could clock on. Luckily Simon was distracted with Dosia while the other two were still working on clearing and serving.

You just needed to get yourself together, stop treating them like a group of friends. Stop fucking flirting with them. Even if it felt nice and you liked playing games with them or eating dinner or bantering. Even if you were a little stupidly upset that Simon got Dosia something and not you. God you hated yourself.

There was a light knock at the door. You hadn’t locked it, in fact the thing wasn’t even closed all the way since you had just come into the bathroom to cling to the sink and glower at your reflection. But still… whoever it was had knocked. They hadn’t just barged in like you weren’t afforded privacy. But then when was the last time one of them had?

“It’s open.”

Johnny slipped through the door and closed it behind him. You would be worried he was about to ask you to kiss him again only he looked more concerned than anything.

“Hey.”

“I didnae… I… I ken I was being a bit much.”

“A bit much is sort of your thing.”

“Aye, that’s true. I just thought ye seemed upset.”

“What do you mean?”

“I love Si tae bits, but he can be a pure dickhead sometimes without meaning tae be.”

You hugged your arms lightly to yourself, looking at Johnny across the small space. He let the silence sit until you were ready to talk.

“I’m so stupid for getting upset about it.”

“Naw, dinnae say that about yourself. A stupid lassie wouldnae have taught herself how to tile a roof.”

You smiled despite yourself, you had taught yourself how to tile a roof. It had been an absolute mess at first, but you just kept throwing yourself at it and doing your research and eventually you had done it. It was the first big project on your cottage, the first one you were really proud of finishing… but now it was gone.

“A clever one wouldn’t have burned her own cottage to the ground because she thought she could do everything herself.”

“Ye dinnae ken for sure that was what caused it, could’ve been those bastard witch hunters.”

You laughed lightly and then it turned into a full on belly laugh, him laughing at you laughing and both of you just feeding off of one another. Honestly the fact that you sounded happy was about the only thing keeping the others from stomping in and dragging Johnny out. Eventually you both tailed off, tears in your eyes.

“I… thanks. For checking on me.”

“Any time bonnie. Better go get dessert before Gaz inhales it all.”

As he turned to leave you stepped towards him to make him pause. It was just that he had come to check on you because he had noticed you were upset when nobody else had. He hadn’t barged in or forced you to talk to him, he had just been here solely to try and make you feel better. Oh God, you really liked him. You thought that maybe you had really liked him for weeks now.

“Kiss me.”

You watched his chest heave and his eyes search yours as he brought a warm hand to brush your hair out of your face before cupping the side of your head.

“Ye dinnae have tae for this. Ye dinnae have tae earn me looking after ye.”

“I’m not asking because I feel like I have to.”

When his lips pressed to yours you curled your hands into his shirt and squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself just have this. He was warm and solid and Johnny. It was a soft thing, flirting with the edge of something heated but staying firmly on the side of sweet. When you broke away you both just smiled in each others space for a moment, eyes opening and a little unsure but happy. If both of you were a little quiet and a little pink eating dessert, nobody else mentioned it.

#mhairiwrites #tf 141 x reader #fanfic #cod au #why is dialogue so hard? Going to give everyone a group chat to make my life easier I stg

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gloryinthunder · 7 months

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I love that resisting Dark Urge and unascended Asterion's romance goes this way. Both of them are trapped playing roles they don't want, forced to do unspeakable violence to others, fighting tooth and nail against their fate. One created to be consumed and the other created to devour the world. Both are abused, used, and expected to act a certain way by a god figure/father/creator.

And somehow they find each other, and love, through trauma designed to deny them humanity and connection with others. They support each other through the harrowing experiences of escaping their respective creators. Moments in which both of them come mere inches from losing themselves forever. Which they likely would have done without the other to anchor them.

And they do that partly because, in all of that mess and pain, they see the real version of the other person. And they steadfastly refuse to let the other forget that they're in there. That they have value and humanity. That they're loved.

#baulders gate 3 #the dark urge #durge #dark urge x astarion #astarion #baulders gate 3 spoilers #astarion x dark urge

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ghost-bxrd · 6 months

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ok you said go wild and i will fully embrace that. i wanted to brainstorm about this idea I had and had also posted but like in a sentence, when it’s more of an outline. it’s of a robin!tim that can sense dead people so when the red hood makes his debut he’s naturally curious and tim follows him around and jason obviously realizes, holds up a knife to his throat and startles when tim asks “how are you here” with just no regards for his own safety and genuine curiosity?? literally not knowing he’s jason but jason stops and goes “you know who I am?” and tim whispers “I know you died” and jason coils back because that is as much confirmation as he needs cue panic because the kid knows surely then the bat knows too and that just won’t do, so in his panic he ends up kidnapping the kid and taking him to his safehouse where he keeps pacing because jason needs answers and he refuses to get them torturing the kid (because fucking kid had gone out looking for him despite knowing the red hood had it out of his head, did this kid even have any self preservation skills? he didn’t even seemed fazed jason’s back??which wow, hurt not gonna lie) then when tim wakes up because jason knocked him unconscious the reveal happens and Tim is so shocked that Jason is shocked because bitch I thought you knew!!! what how the fuck would I know!! chaos ensues but then jason abruptly realizes this is great! his plans did not derail *looks at timbo munching his food and watching indiana jones* his plan with the bat he means

Jason, sitting in a room with all his plans on fire: This is fine :’D

No but seriously, I LOVE a Tim with the self preservation instinct of a wet paper towel. He’s a competent teen vigilante, but where it concerns the Bats (and especially his hero, Jason) he’s an absolute human disaster.

Ok but first of all we need to talk a bit more thoroughly about “sensing the dead” thing. Dead as in ghosts? Or dead as in— murder victims and such. Either would apply to Jason if we go with a “Death clings to people who’ve seen beyond the veil” scenario, but Tim’s thoughts would differ vastly upon first meeting the Red Hood.

And Jason, poor Jason, the Pit Madness didn’t stand a chance faced with what is essentially a toddler looking at him with wide and curious eyes, so damn trusting despite that knife to his throat, and he’s just losing his mind because he could have slit Tim’s throat and nobody would have found out until it was too late. What if Jason had been literally anybody else? The kid would have died.

Obviously this Robin can’t be trusted to keep himself safe/alive, that means Jason has to do it for him. Easy. He can do this. It’s cool. Jason is freaking the fuck out.

Tim, upon realizing that the Red Hood is Jason, promptly goes from mildly alarmed over his kidnapping to ✨starstruck✨ and steadfastly refuses to leave Jason’s safehouse unless Jason agrees to come back to the manor. No, he doesn’t care about the multitude of death threats (he totally calls the bluff from the get go).

Jason promptly decides to make the best out of a shitty situation and pretends to be an evil kidnapper and just— keeps dangling the baby bird over Bruce and Dick’s head, slipping them concerning photos (Tim wasn’t exactly happy about the “hostage photo shooting session” but he agreed after Jason promised to make him his special coffee flavored cake) and telling them he’s torturing their Robin with a crowbar (because Jason is a drama queen).

And you know what else would be funny? If, after a few days, Tim slips out to go on patrol with Jason. He completely ignores Bruce and/or Dick when the call out to him and actively helps Hood with his crime stuff (while also sneakily forcing Hood to cut down on the killing by about— 80-90%).

Bruce and Dick are fairly convinced they’re looking at a brainwashing situation.

#brainstorming #jason “’I did not sign up for this’’ Todd #Tim ‘’try getting rid of my NOW bitch’’ drake #and maybe his ability to sense the dead comes in handy with cases #oh who am I kidding it definitely does #Bruce and Dick tearing the city apart looking for Tim #meanwhile Tim: blackmailing Jason into making pancakes with coffee flavor #it’s a disaster from start to finish but somehow it works out #jason todd #batfamily #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #robin #tim drake #red hood

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sugar-phoenix · 5 days

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Death of a Cowboy

synopsis: Before Boothill became Boothill, he was a cowboy on the planet of Aeragan-Epharshel, living with his foster caretakers. Everything was simple and perfect. That is, until the IPC descended from the skies. Alternatively: I rewrote Boothill's lore, expanded it, and made it a lot more devastating. tws: child death, trauma tags: boothill, boothill has a daughter, I gave boothill a name, heavy angst, trauma a/n: 2.5k words, get your tissues ready.

ao3 link here!

The cowboy took a sip out of the malt fruit juice in his hand. Overhead, million of stars twinkled in the sky. He laid back, soaking in the night.

The cool wind gently bit at his skin. There was nothing but the sound of the leaves rustling, and the chorus of crickets in the grass. He breathed deeply, feeling the air fill his lungs, and the blood pumping beneath his hand which rested lazily on his chest.

The years had passed since the cowboy had been taken in by Graey and Nick, and although people had come and gone, and his caretakers had grown old with age, this planet refused to change. He was certain that no matter where he went, no matter if he decided to stay or leave, the leafy trees, the green grass, the burbling river… it would all be here forever.

A sound rose up from the night, one that was unfamiliar yet all too familiar. The cowboy got up to investigate it, and as he got closer, he realized what it was. He swore under his breath.

“Is that a baby?”

In the grass, nestled within a box with blankets, a baby wailed. He stared at it, unsure of what to do. Nick and Graey had picked up many children over the years, but since this cowboy had been one of the youngest (and quite honestly completely disinterested in the whole childcare thing) he had little to no experience or direction. He stood there and stared at the baby that was still wailing, frozen in place. Something within him compelled him to pick up the bundle and soothe it, and he followed that urge, raising the child to his chest.

“Shh, shh, there there little guy. It’s okay.”

Miraculously, the baby stopped crying, and looked up at him with bright eyes, cooing curiously. In the moonlight, he saw a note was attached to the bundle, and he picked it up to read it.

Please take care of my Hannah.

“Ah, sorry, little girl. You’re not a boy after all,” the cowboy whispered.

The baby started wailing again.

“Ah sh— I’m sorry! I’m sorry! How was I supposed to know you were a girl and not a guy?”

“Wes!”

A call came from the porch, and the cowboy turned around.

“Wes, is that a baby?”

“I don’t know, Nick. Someone left her out in the cold night like this.” Wes shouted back, his voice competing with the crying child in his arms.

“Well bring her in already. She’ll catch a cold if she’s out there any longer.”

A cold? Wes snapped up, quickly grabbing her box and rushing into the house.

Inside, Nick cleared the table.

“Set ‘er down here.”

Graey was busy whittling away at a block of wood. Too many times Wes’ siblings had tried to get him to give it up as he got older, fearing for the health of his hands, but he steadfastly refused.

“If there’s anything I’m going to enjoy in my old age, it’ll be my woodworkin.’ So let me do it until I can’t do it no more,” was what he always said.

Wes laid the baby down on the table.

“Is she going to get a cold?” Wes asked.

“No, no. She’s probably fine,” Nick said, waving his hand dismissively. He held a bottle of warm milk and handed it to Wes.

“Here, Wesson. You feed her.”

“Who, me? No!—” Wes started to protest, but he could see that Nick was not about to budge. He always used Wes’ full name when he meant business.

Sighing, Wes picked up the baby again, cradling it in the crook of his arm. These movements were stilted, stiff.

He’d seen Nick and Graey do the same thing many times. Now he was copying their movements and praying it would be enough.

The baby stopped crying when he picked her up, and that gave him enough confidence to continue.

“There, there. That’s right. Come drink your milk.”

Wes picked up the bottle of milk and held it to the baby’s mouth.

“There now, drink up.”

The baby did not drink up. It only looked at him blankly, then at the bottle, and then wailed again.

“Hey, hey, the bottle’s right here lil’ missus.” He continued to hold it in front of the baby’s face, but she only wailed louder and pushed it away.

“She’s not latching on,” he turned to the two elderly men in the room, who were watching him flounder with amusement.

“She doesn’t know it’s food, Wes. Squeeze a few drops in her mouth.” Nick took a leisurely sip from his cup of malt.

Wes did so, just as Graey chimed in with, “Just be careful not to choke her.” Wes looked up at him in horror.

“Choke? Couldn’t you have said that sooner?”

Graey only laughed out loud.

“Relax, Wes. Look, she’s drinkin’ now,” Nick pointed out.

Wes looked down. And true to Nick’s words the baby had latched on, suckling with all the ferocity she could muster. He let out a sigh of relief.

Wes watched as she nearly drank the whole thing, her red lips working the nipple of the bottle. Like with the air in his lungs and the pumping of his blood, he felt something new bloom in his heart. Something unexpected.

“I think that baby’s yours, Wes.”

Wes looked up at Graey.

“Wh-what? No—”

“No, it’s too late, I’m afraid. You’ve got that look in your eye.”

“Same one we had when we found you, Wes,” Nick chimed in.

“But I— I can’t take care of a damn baby!”

“Damb.”

Wes looked down at the baby in his arms, startled.

“What was that now, lil’ missus?”

“Dammb,” the baby said proudly, then blew a raspberry at him.

“Damn,” the cowboy repeated reverently. “You’ve got some big words coming out of your mouth there, Hannah.”

Behind him, the two older cowboys smiled at each other.

☆ ☆ ☆

“Daddy.”

“Just a lil’ longer, lil’ missus. I got your guitar ready for you soon.”

The baby had grown up fast. She had taken her first steps only a few weeks ago, and with the gentle support of Wes they all watched as she made her way over to Nick’s guitar. It was often that the sound of his playing soothed her to sleep, but now she seemed to express a real interest in the instrument, giggling and shrieking as she plucked its strings. It wasn’t very long afterwards that Wes found himself asking Graey for woodworking tips. He’d never been big on the trade, but the idea of making a small guitar for Hannah to play with on her own had taken him by the throat. Graey happily complied, and now, a few days later, Wes was working on the last step: threading and tuning the strings. Hannah sat on the floor of the small workshop next to him, playing with her wooden animals. She rarely ever left his side. She squealed happily as she knocked a wooden cow and a wooden horse together, then raised the cow into the air. Graey had whittled toys for her, and the cow one was her favorite out of all of them. She lovingly referred to it as “Beth.”

Wes looked down at her, smiling. He never thought of fostering a child, even in his wildest dreams.

“But that’s the funny part about stuff like this,” he heard Graey’s voice in his head. “They just happen, and all of a sudden you’re doin’ stuff you never would have done in a million years.”

“Here ya go, Hannah,” Wes said, crouching down to her level. “Here’s a guitar made just for you.”

Hannah squealed gleefully as Wes handed the guitar to her. She slapped at its strings, laughing louder with every sound it made.

“Wesson!” A shout came from outside.

Wes leapt up from the floor, hand to the revolver at his hip. He rushed out to the porch to find Nick looking upwards.

Following his gaze, he found a fleet of spaceships were descending from the skies.

“Newcomers,” Nick said. “And they sure as hell don’t look friendly either.”

Wes would come to see how true Nick’s words were.

☆ ☆ ☆

The men in black from the sky had no regards for the inhabitants of the planet they were invading. Wes watched over the weeks as families were uprooted from their homes simply because they existed over deposits of black ore, and men had died for trying to take back what their fathers had built. They wheeled in excavators, started carving into the earth, marring it with reckless abandon. The so-called Interastral Peace Corporation did nothing in the name of peace. Rather, they saw the planet as a fruit that was ripe for harvesting, and the people who lived on it as obstacles, pests to drive out and eradicate.

Their “negotiations” were rather demands that the natives leave their homes immediately and never come back. They were treated as lowlife savages, incompetents.

And at times, it truly felt that way. The IPC’s advanced weapons and turrets far overpowered the simple revolvers and horses that the people of Aeragan-Epharshel used. No matter how many men banded against them, it was a massacre each and every time. One that Wesson had to watch over and over again, as he outlived much of his friends and siblings.

Graey, Nick, Hannah, and the rest of the ranch were much further inland, so they were thankfully away from the struggle and bloodshed. At least for now.

Wes had joined the guerilla warfare against the IPC — but the approach they were using was ineffective, and they were only losing more lives by the day.

The only way to make it all end, he realized, was to go straight to the top. Deal with the man behind it all. And so, Wes schemed. He stole a Synesthesia Beacon from the cargo hold of a train, used it so that his words became theirs. Then he snuck onto the mothership, wearing a uniform he’d stolen off somewhere else.

Wes’ nerves were taut as he made his way through the ship. IPC employees casually walked past him, some laughing and joking with their colleagues as if there wasn’t a thing wrong in the world. Every so often he’d tell himself not to reflexively put a hand on the revolver at his waist. He told himself to act like he belonged. To act like he owned his ship and everyone in it. After all it’s what they were doing. It was only fair to infiltrate them with their own tactics.

After what felt like hours, Wes reached the restricted area. The door to the core cabin was blocked by two guards, and he knew there were only more inside waiting for him.

“Hey,” one of them said, “You can’t come this— ”

He and his partner were shot through the head. Wes moved quickly now, since the guards inside would no doubt be alerted.

There were only three more guards beyond the doors, which were quickly dealt with, and then there was a long corridor that led to the core cabin. Wes sneaked up, slowing down when he heard voices.

He listened with disgust as they talked about Aeragan-Epharshel, talked about the beautiful planet he called home as thought it was nothing but a chip to gain for their own competitive advantage. He listened as they referred to his people as uncivilized savages, like as if they hadn’t been doing perfectly well before they descended down.

“We are running out of time,” one of them said. “You are permitted to use military force and bring civilization to this world.

And then, “Initiate the cannons. Wipe them all out.”

There is a level of terror that grips a man, that tells him that he is about to lose everything. In that moment, Wes ran. He forgot all about killing the man in charge, forgot about his schemes, forgot about ending it all.

As he bolted through the ship, as employees laughed and joked around him, his stomach twisting itself tighter as he felt and heard the rumble of what could only be cannon fire, he had one thought running through his mind. A plea.

Please let them be safe. Oh, please let them be safe. Please.

Outside, terrible thunder shook the sky as hellfire rained from above. Wes had no regards for his life as he ran through the crowd of screaming people, shells exploding left and right, as cowboys died around him. He ran through the plain, across the fields, back to where he was raised, the only home he’d ever known.

As he got closer, he saw smoke.

“No. No, no, no, no!”

Craters scarred the field around him. Where there was supposed to be a ranch and a house, there was nothing but burning rubble. Everywhere Wes looked, there was fire and wreckage.

“Hannah,” he shouted, the smoke drying out his lungs. “HANNAH!”

He didn’t hear her. Didn’t hear her soft angelic voice calling back to him, didn’t hear a cry or a scream.

“Nick! Graey!” He screamed their names until he choked on smoke, tried to dig through the charred wooden beams where his house stood until the fire seared his hands and he was forced to back away.

No response. No remains. Nothing.

The cannon fire had stopped by now, leaving pure and utter destruction in its wake.

Wes sank to his knees.

He took a breath. It was full of smoke. And then he took another.

And then he screamed. Screamed into the fire and smoke. Screamed for his friends. Screamed for the two men who were like fathers to him.

Screamed for his daughter, the small pure being who had taken his whole heart with her.

They didn’t deserve to die like this.

His scream cut out as he choked, this time on his tears. He crumpled to the ground, sobbing.

Nobody deserved to die like this.

She didn’t deserve to die like this.

He sobbed and sobbed, and for how long he didn’t know. He didn’t care if the IPC found him. Hell, they could shoot him dead if they liked. It made no difference to him. He had lost everything.

When he stopped crying, when the pain had dulled to an empty numbness, he closed his eyes. Soaked in his surroundings.

The heat from the fire threatened to melt his skin off. The air was thick and heavy with smoke. The only sound was the crackling of the wood, the trees, and the grass burning.

It was a stark contrast to what he experienced months before.

This irreversible landscape… it had been changed.

No.

Ruined. Permanently.

This wasn’t his home. Not anymore.

And someone needed to pay for it. For all of it.

Slowly, painfully, he stood up, his breaths shuddering.

As he looked around one last time, his eyes caught sight of something lying on the ground.

It was a small wooden cow, slightly charred.

He picked it up, and held it in his hand.

“This is for you, Hannah. Don’t you worry, Daddy will make those bastards pay for what they did to you.”

He slipped the toy into his pocket.

With long striding steps, he walked away from everything he had ever known, his unadulterated fury the only thing moving him forward.

dividers by cafekitsune!

link to gif post

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strayheartless · 1 month

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Thinking about autistic Riku…

Riku who wasn’t diagnosed until after he became a keyblade master, and that was only because Merlin took one look at him and was like “oh my sweet summer child.”

15yr old Riku at the peak of his masking having actual fits of physical rage in his bedroom that he doesn’t really have an answer for other than “today was hard” that are actually meltdowns. We’re talking throwing things, braking shit, rocking and hair gripping. The whole nine yards.

Riku who struggles comprehending why his friends make plans and then don’t follow them through. Like building the raft. They said they were going to do it, so he was doing it. Why was he the only one taking it seriously?

Riku who’s grasp on humour and sarcasm is good up to a point. Meaning he knows how to do it himself, but if it’s directed at him it takes him a hot second to sus it out. He usually ends up giving actual explanations to people for their sarcasm, even though he’s registered what it was, and then gets told “I was joking”. Which fustrated the hell out of him because he KNEW that!!

Riku who has really bad light sensitivity and it’s part of the reason he keeps his hair long for such a long time. Sometimes he kind of wishes he could have the blindfold back.

Riku who despite purposefully keeping his hair long, spends nearly every day tying it back because it’s too much, then taking it down because that’s too much, then putting it back up and taking it back down until he seriously considers taking a pair of scissors to it.

Riku who doesn’t like to be touched unless he’s initiating the touch. Sora is the ONLY exception to that rule, but even then Riku has days when he moves out of Sora’s hold because it’s too much.

Riku who’s special interest is Gummi ships and is VERY happy when they go to see Cid and the RGRC because Cid is the only one that can keep up with his 1000mph rants about mobility blocks and rotation weaponry.

Riku who values silence, and no one can figure out how he deals with Sora’s constant stream of chatter, until he one day moves his hair back to show Mickey the earplugs in his ears. He felt guilty about it for a long time until Sora told him he already knew about the plugs and didn’t mind, he just like being with him.

Riku who likes to play with kairis hair but can’t abide having his own hair touched.

Riku who will usually eat anything but if you give him avocado he will have the biggest sensory ick moment you’ve ever seen. Same goes for mushrooms.

Riku who steadfastly refuses to sleep in fuzzy PJ’s because “no thanks I’d rather be flayed alive, it would be less stressful.”

Riku who, at aged 8, told kairi that if she put that scarf around his neck he would “absolutely start screaming” and then did when she insisted he’d catch cold. Scarfs are demon cloths.

Riku who would rather sit at the back of squalls office in the corner while the other man works, than sit in the science lab with everyone else because Squalls office is quiet and he likes that Squall says what he means.

Riku who ignored his own emotional, physical and sensory needs/wellbeing for months while looking for sora and ended up having a meltdown in front of Mickey and master YenSid.

Riku who now has an app on his Gummiphone that Cid, Squall, Even and Ienzo designed to help him build routine and regulate/track his emotional well-being.

He relies of the breathing exercises game a lot in Quadratum.

Riku who is the reason chip and dale created dark mode in phone settings because nobody could figure out why he barely used his phone until he admitted that it always felt like he was looking into the sun.

Riku who has keyblade related Stims, like tapping the flat of the blade with his nails or messing with the key chain when he’s stressed.

Riku who also has stims such as: flicking his tongue inside his mouth while he’s thinking; twirling strands of his hair incessantly; scrunching his nose; clicking his fingers when he’s distressed; tapping the toe of his boot against the opposite heel when he’s stood still; imperceptible swaying; holding his thumb knuckle gently between his teeth; soft popping noises with his mouth; tapping his palms with the tips of his fingers.

I have more but this is it for now.

#autistic riku #riku headcanon #autistic riku headcanon #KH riku #kingdom hearts #KH sora #radiant garden #rgrc

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agentrouka-blog · 2 months

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Hiiiiiiii :3 I’m here with another stupid (😎) ask :33

What do you think of Sansa’s line “my father and I have other concerns” when she and Maester Colemon are talking about giving Sweetrobin sweet milk. Maester Colemon objects to Sansa’s demand that SR be given sweetmilk again when going down the mountain. She’s pretty adamant about SR sweetmilk even as Maester Colemon shows concerns about nosebleeds. Many have theorised this as Sansa knowingly poisoning SR and has been touted as the Sansa = villain (🙄) theory by the antis pretty steadfastly. Does Sansa know about poisoning SR? What other concerns do she and LF have? Is she actually poisoning SR or is she just irritated with him and wants him to shut up?

Hello!

Neither. She's genuinely concerned with Sweetrobin's future as Lord of the Vale, after GRRM has taken care to insert not one but two shaking fits into the previous chapters that leave him incapacitated and soiled, and which are generally treated with "medicine" just as harsh or worse, like high level narcotics, alcohol or leeching and bleeding. .

This stuff is rightfully seen as an improvement. He's awake, calm, not losing blood or ingesting addictive substances.

And while he hedges and mutters, Colemon never comes right out and states "It could kill him". He lets a distracted Alayne cut him off or trails off by himself. And he eventually relents, giving the appearance that his concerns are not that serious.

And Alayne is rightfully distracted. After a peacefully resolved siege against the rule of Littlefinger (guardian of Sweetrobin), they are coming down to spend the winter with Lord Nestor, accessible to the Vale lords (his future subjects who need to respect him) for the first time in a long time. And the descent itself is also very dangerous, as we will be shown.

“The Lord of the Eyrie cannot descend from his mountain tied up like a sack of barleycorn.” Of that Alayne was certain. They dare not let the full extent of Robert’s frailty and cowardice become too widely known, her father had warned her. [...] “It was too soon. My lady, you do not understand. As I’ve told the Lord Protector, a pinch of sweetsleep will prevent the shaking, but it does not leave the flesh, and in time …” “Time will not matter if his lordship has a shaking fit and falls off the mountain. If my father were here, I know he would tell you to keep Lord Robert calm at all costs.” “I try, my lady, yet his fits grow ever more violent, and his blood is so thin I dare not leech him any more. Sweetsleep … you are certain he was not bleeding from the nose?” [...] “Very well.” They paused at the foot of the stairs. “But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer.” “You had best take that up with the Lord Protector.” She pushed through the door and crossed the yard. Colemon only wanted the best for his charge, Alayne knew, but what was best for Robert the boy and what was best for Lord Arryn were not always the same. Petyr had said as much, and it was true. Maester Colemon cares only for the boy, though. Father and I have larger concerns.

(AFFC, Alayne II)

That's his future she is trying to protect. Not to mention, this is before she ever learns about Harry the Heir. Why on earth would she support poisoning him, when Littlefinger's protection of her depends on his role as Sweetrobin's guardian?

This is the same Sansa that is planning his new bodyguard crew in her TWOW sample chapter, who considers what his future wife will love about him, the same Sansa whose gentle care even Colemon acknowledges helps Sweetrobin calm himself without medicine. No, she is not knowingly poisoning the kid.

(Also, Maester Colemon may well be playing his own game, giving him antidotes or refusing to administer doses, depending on how you want to interpret the fact that Sweetrobin still suffers a shaking spell on the mountain, and the "vile" substance mixed into his milk without explanation.)

#sansa stark #alayne stone #sweetrobin #maester colemon #sweetsleep #rouka ask

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autisticrosewilson · 1 month

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You have any Wilson family headcanons to spare? Especially on Rose & Grant?

DO I EVER!!! Gosh where do I even start

I mentioned to a friend of mine the other day that I think Slade was a leash kid, and I stand by that whole heartedly. He wanted to raise Grant as a leash kid too, simply because he thought you were supposed to, but Adeline threatened his life so it never happened. This was the first of many times he was confronted with the concept that maybe his home life wasn't great.

He would not even begin reflecting on this until almost a decade later. He still doesn't really consider himself a victim and honestly most of his shitty parenting comes from him just having no clue what he's doing. He's aware that he's bad at it, but instead of trying to improve he just tries to avoid his kids in hopes that they'll be better off without him.

Also he grew up in 1950's-60's Appalachia, I think he's more superstitious than he lets on. I imagine he grew up hearing about family curses and old wives tales, and while on some level he recognizes that Fran likely just used those stories to cope with the situation there's also a part of him that believes it for the same reasons she did. He's not a victim, he can't be, so it must not have been abuse. Which eventually turned into him just kind of accepting that he was always going to be a bad father, that there was never a chance for him to have a family and any attempt he makes will just end up worse than the last.

It makes it easier to maintain his self imposed isolation that way.

Adeline is a lot more interesting than people give her credit for. I like to think she was born and raised in a big city like New York or maybe Gotham if I wanted to be funny. She was definitely a wild child, and that was something that didn't change during her first marriage.

I truly do believe that Count whats-his-face (I don't care enough to look him up) tried exactly once to hit her and he ended up with three bullet wounds that all knicked arteries. It was his only warning and he was smart enough to know that.

Addie is loyal to the end, she's the kind of person that steadfastly refuses to let go of people she cares about. In basically ever version of her story she tries, she tries so hard to make things work. I once compared her to the Greek myth of Medea and I think about the comparison often.

I also think that Adeline was always her father's daughter, whether she liked it or not. I don't remember if it was canon that she was raised primarily by her dad but I only remember her dad being mentioned so I think she grew up in a single parent household and was mostly left to her own devices as a kid. She probably grew up really close with her cousin, most people probably thought they were sisters.

Mayflower fucking HATES Slade, she was advocating for the divorce before they were even married. I know in my heart she was Slade's biggest hater. Her and Slade talked mad shit about each other but they were also gossip buddies for the longest and it was the only thing that stopped her from beating his ass all the time.

SladeAddie is so toxic Bi4Bi coded. Really funny to me that Addie was probably older than Slade, do you know the kind of rizz you have to possess to bag a milf that could kill you in 20 different ways before you could blink? One who's already been divorced? What charm was this freshly 18 year old drop out exuding to be pulling like this?

When do you think he told her that he lied to the recruiter about his age and he wasn't actually 23 or whatever? Did he ever tell her? Did she figure it out herself? It was literally never addressed but I think about it all the time.

Slade is definitely still mildly in love with her and falls a little all over again every time she deals him grievous bodily harm. I don't know his thing for people who hate him is probably a self conscious way to punish himself for sucking all the time.

Billy and Alfred being friends is a headcanon that I literally never stop thinking about. Why wouldn't they be old friends or whatever? They have tea the 4th Tuesday of every other month. They complain about their respective morons and brag about the kids they have to take care of because their morons won't.

Billy is definitely a British rock fan and he fucking HATES country music. Slade starts playing it in the car and Billy threatens to crash the whole car just to make a point.

He's like maybe 5 years older than Slade if I'm being generous about it, he just looks older next to Slade because he's not hopped up on super serum.

He's the one Rose gives her father's day gifts to <3

SladeBilly is canon to me, no way Slade is capable of spending that much time with someone without sleeping with them at least once. It might be the healthiest relationship he's ever had with anyone and Billy barely tolerates him.

Lilian Worth my beloved,,,,,,they gave her such a white ass name. I choose to believe that she changed it later on for anonymity. Chea Nath is a name she hasn't used in a while, but it's still one she holds dear.

She seems like someone who was really into ballet, and probably someone who was really good at it too.

She's one of those characters that we don't really have any information on, which leaves a lot of wiggle room backstory wise. I probably write too much about characters with poor backgrounds (surprise your bitch grew up impoverished) so I guess I'll let Lili have this one.

Diplomats daughter, her and her mom were really close growing up, and she seems like she grew up with sisters. She's got that middle sister energy to her, growing up everyday was a fight and let's just say she didn't lose often.

If Adeline is Medea, Lili is definitely Circe. Versatile, powerful, a man hater, and she'll do anything to protect her girls.

Honors student, her grades never dropped below an A- and she has degrees in everything from fine art to communications. Rose went to college purely because her mom made it clear that not going was not an option.

Grant is one of my favorite characters. Ever. He's definitely an old school country enjoyer, much to Billy's chagrin and Slades secret delight.

He was the boy who climbed up the tallest trees to prove he could and then came home with a thousand little scrapes on him.

He has a bee allergy.

He's the least enhanced of his siblings but he still has a meta gene, I think the reason the H.I.V.E. serum didn't activate it like it should have is because his power was the mental kind and not the physical kind so his body couldn't hold up against it even while his psychic powers were getting stronger.

Painted his nails one(1) time, it was a dried up iridescent blue that Addie dug up and was going to throw away but Grant wanted to try it. He didn't know what nail polish remover was though so he scraped his teeth on his nails to get it all off but he couldn't get all of it and he almost cried so hard he threw up at dinner that night because he was scared of Slade noticing (Slade didn't notice and wouldn't have cared if he did).

Thought he was SO stealthy when he snuck out but literally everyone knew because he always came home smelling like weed, hungover, and he went to school in the same clothes he wore to go out. Most of the time Addie didn't care (See above: "former wild child") but Slade "Biggest loser in his hometown" Wilson always had an issue with it.

Officially his tomb is located in the Kane family plot but he's actually buried in Slades hometown next to his grandmother. (Adeline is not aware of this)

Joey was actually the one who pulled most of the pranks when they were kids, but Grant always took the fall. Mostly because literally no one would believe it even if Joey said he did it. Which he tried to do, many times.

Grant taught Joey to make flower crowns but he never admitted it because he thought it made him look weak. He still keeps the few that Joey made for him though, they're basically turning to dust in the drawer he hid them in to this day. They're one of the few things that weren't torn down and shoved in the attic after his death.

Joey still celebrates Grant's birthday every year, him and mom play The Last Man by Clint Mansell on the piano because it was his favorite piece to play before he stopped because it wasn't "cool".

Grant tried to get Joey to come with him when he ran away but Joey didn't want to leave Addie. Joey ended up moving into Grant's old apartment, he often thinks of what life would be like if he'd taken up the offer.

Grant is THE ass hole big brother from the late 90's/early 2000's. Down to the mullet and the shirt with the sleeves cut off. He used to steal Addie's eyeliner and she would get so mad because that stuff is EXPENSIVE and he's just smearing however. She teaches him how to do it properly but he says it makes him look "too girly".

Grant's picture is the only one in Slades wallet because he doesn't have to worry about putting him in danger anymore.

DON'T let Joey's "natural" pretty boy look fool you he has a 20 step skin routine and a 15 step hair routine and he wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to start on his makeup.

He used to get the worst acne as a pre-teen and he has physically burned all the evidence except for one picture of him and Slade on a fishing trip when he was like thirteen, he doesn't know it exists and it's the only picture Slade consistently travels with.

He doesn't want to be the favorite but he would get mad if someone else was the favorite because what work were YOU even putting in for it.

He has 12 year old boy humor I fear. Giggles at dick jokes and has used his name to make "Joe Mama" jokes on various occasions.

Number one Mama's boy of all time, there's not a single time they've gone out in public together where they haven't had coordinated outfits. Him and Addie call biweekly to shit talk people and exchange recipes and the like.

Joey is THE biggest gossiper. He'll talk shit about people right in front of them if he's sure they don't know ASL and whoever is around just has to try not to laugh while they "translate" him.

He's so good at convincing people to do things for him just by looking at them with his big ol' eyes. And he's a theater kid so his expressions are really exaggerated.

Rose, my muse. I know canonically she's a smoker but I'm changing that to her being a vaper. I don't know she just looks like she'd beat the shit out of you for a cherry lemon cancer stick.

Energy drinks don't work on her in normal amounts so to rectify that she constantly walks around with horrific concoctions in a water bottle the size of her head.

She street races as R4V4G3R and she's pretty good at it. She learned a lot about cars doing it which is how Slade justified being an anonymous benefactor for her.

The few weeks Slade had her she ran that shit like the navy. Up at 6 AM on the dot, tight ass ponytail swaying as she got ready for school. She was out that door by 7:25 everyday and she would MAKE Slade violate traffic laws to get to school by 7:35.

Has bitten people before and will do it again.

Had the BIGGEST crush on Donna Troy when she was on the Teen Titans. She didn't know it then but she did. Her taste in women really hasn't changed at all.

Only has her grunge thing going on when she's planning on meeting people, average day outfit is all pastels and florals that her mom used to pick out for her.

Got pretty much all of Lili's stuff, her main apartment is always Immaculately decorated. She also lives in L.A. because literally fuck New York. She's trying to get her engineering degree in PEACE.

She looks up to Grant a lot, she really only has Joey's account of things and he only tells her the good stuff. How he was brave, and strong, and funny. When she was younger she really wanted to be like him, but that was the last thing Slade wanted. So obviously she named herself Ravager out of spite.

Rose is the shortest one in the family but she's buff as hell, my girl is built like a fridge and she knows it. Joey tried to rest his arm on her head one and she stabbed him. It didn't go through his armor obviously but it did leave a mildly annoying bruise that he pouted about for a week.

She low-key really likes Addie but she tends to stay away because of the whole "child of infidelity" thing. She HAS threatened to call Addie on Slade multiple times.

Grew up with a bunch of other kids so she never really wanted siblings, but she would kill for Joey. She'd like a sister though. Really misses her cousins and aunts from the brothel but doesn't want to put them in danger by talking to them.

She's fond of kids but wouldn't want her own because she doesn't want to bring a kid into the kinda life she has, or their family in general.

Routinely takes jobs from Slade because she knows full well he won't do shit. And she's right every time he makes it into a team up that usually ends with them fighting but sometimes, every once in a while, they do something nice together and it makes her remember why she wanted to find him so bad when she was 13.

I don't like her carving her eye out for Slade I thought the whole concept of her idolizing Slade was fucking stupid. She tolerates him at best. So I like to attribute it to her visions, I think the blind prophet symbolism is really fun. Especially because then we can have a Prometheus type situation where her eye patch keeps switching sides/sometimes she's not blind because she keeps carving them out in fits of Seer Madness™️ but they keep regenerating.

SHE HAS BROWN EYES HER EYES ARE BROWN I KNOW HER PERSONALLY PLEASE LET HER KEEP EVEN ONE OF HER ETHNIC FEATURES I BEG!!!

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box-architecture · 2 months

Text

I think Dream should be a vampire and Sam is a monster hunter raised in a catholic-esque sector, who believes that all monsters are evil so obviously Dream is also evil. And Punz is also a monster hunter who has stopped him multiple times and defended Dream and Sam has been steadfastly refusing to listen to them yell about how Dream is a person-

Except. Except even as he hunts down Dream he begins to have doubts. Over and over again. Until he and Dream are often working together against some greater problem. Until Sam doesn't want Dream to die.

I'll just capture him he says to himself. He can be reasoned with. Surely.

Except he doesn't want to do even that. He wants Dream to drink from him, to rely on him, to be sprawled out on the forest floor so Sam can hover over him and trace every freckle on his face. He wants Dream on top of him, haloed by moonlight, eyes bright and blood on his lip, taking Sam's neck between his teeth.

It's probably even better that way. Dream can't hurt anyone if he drinks Only from Sam. If Sam brings him home and keeps him safe and content. Surely he is being purely altruistic and not a little obsessed.

And he can't stop the Longing on his face when he watches Dream and Punz share a tender kiss before Dream has to disappear at sunrise. Dream holds Punz so gently, his voice goes soft and fond and sweet, and he strokes Punz's cheek like they matter infinitely, and Sam can understand why. Punz is just so ! Good. Competent and powerful and cocky but beautiful when they're covered in blood and had the courage to stand up for Dream and tell Sam he was wrong. Sam can understand why Dream would love someone so wonderful. So pretty. He thinks about what Punz would taste like and doesn't notice when they both glance at him, knowing.

I can't decide if he should become a werewolf through getting bitten protecting Punz, or if it should be a family thing that was never triggered because the church Suppressed it.

Wait fuck as I was typing I realized I could combine these.

Sam learns that a lot of the monster hunters of the church, their Enhanced Strength Speed Power, isn't actually a holy blessing but specifically them all being monsters who have the "monstrous" quality suppressed.

And he removes the suppressor so he can become a Big Boofer and save Punz.

Because Punz operates outside the church, and they don't like that, so they're going to sacrifice them.

And after Sam does a little murder, he is very growly and grumpy and can't tell who's friend or foe (his first transformation since he was 3 years old, something he can't even remember properly).

And Punz has to calm him down. Which, once Sam stops being growly, he realizes he knows this scent!!!!!! It's his Punz!!!! And now he must Sit on his Punz until all the evils in the world go away.

A Snuggly boof who doesn't understand why Punz is dragging him places, but he'll go anywhere with his Punz (they have to go find Dream, who's curled up in a trap and extremely upset that his enhanced strength and murder abilities don't work on his silver cage)

They flee the church and run off to one of Dream's makeshift hideouts and spend the night curled up with Werewolf Sam who is So Happy to have both of his people. He is getting skritched and kissed and he gets to hold them with his Big Paws and life is very good for a Sam.

He's going to have to turn back in the morning, and then he's going to have to reexamine his entire life and have like 30 breakdowns, but he'll get to be Himself, and he'll learn to become a werewolf at will, and then he will have two partners he snuggles with every day.

#backposting #awesamdrunz #sfw boxing

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nelkcats · 1 year

Text

Hood Assistant

Prompt Part 1 Part 5 Part 6 Ao3 Next

Part 7

-----

To be fond of dancing is a certain step towards falling in love.

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

"I see, thanks for confirming Jay" Danny forced a smile as he continued to look around the room.

The apartment yelled Red Hood in a unique way, but it also yelled Jay and that had him extremely confused, although it made sense if he took into account that the two of them were dating each other.

Since at least three of Bill's bizarre theories made sense, then most of them must be true, and Danny couldn't deny that anymore.

Jason was dating Red Hood

A reality that made his head spin and his heart ache, what was he supposed to do now with his silly crush? It was not easy to stop an illusioned heart

Though if he read all the signs correctly then Jay was enjoying his company,and maybe just for a couple of days he could fool himself into thinking he had a chance. Even if the current situation was just to help him face his own fears.

"So when will your roommate come back?" Danny asked worriedly, if the vigilante would return soon, there was no point in getting his hopes up.

"He's on a trip with his team, so definitely not anytime soon" Jason apologized, if the cute boy in front of him had already swallowed the lie that he was living with Red Hood then nothing could be worse. There would be no consequences for him, not at all.

Jason steadfastly refused to acknowledge the endless number of books that were precisely about avoiding lying to others because lies could collapse like a house of cards in the face of a strong wind.

It's for his own good, and this will not bring me any consequences at all.

Maybe if he repeated it to himself enough times it would come true, no matter how much his conscience was screaming at him. Damn charming boy who decided to make him feel things in his own home!

"Well, we're officially glued to each other for at least a couple of days" Danny stated a little brighter, it wouldn't hurt to follow Johnny's advice and allow himself to be happy for a couple of days. A bit risky, but it had enough advantages to consider it.

"It seems so, but we already had breakfast" Jason perked up when he saw that Danny had put the subject of his roommate aside.

He realized that the boy was right, if it was a new formula and Danny was the only human being affected then the bats would take a little longer to create a cure, although staying stuck with him for a few days didn't sound bad. His company was fun, he made him laugh and his stupid heart pounded every time he was around him.

His treacherous heart had not understood that he couldn't fall in love, not now or ever, no matter how much his head recited the entire book of Pride and Prejudice from head to toe, he was not in love, he couldn't be.

Even if the boy was cute, and talked about Disney rats as if they were a fact, or looked at him in admiration when he did something as simple as cook and enjoyed his food as if it had fallen from heaven.

"There's a lot to do besides eat breakfast Jay" Danny smiled as he pulled his hand to follow him, to which Jason didn't put up much resistance.

He definitely noticed the little fang sticking out of Danny's lip, and how the boy was biting his lower lip as if it were bothering him, but he decided not to comment on it yet.

Danny was avoiding with all his might not to bite Jason at that moment, his hunger for ectoplasm was more active than ever, but Jason had no ectoplasm on his body, he tried to remind his head.

He was obviously failing at it, because his new vampiric tendencies wanted to sink his fangs in and sip his crush like juice. But that was wrong, very wrong. And he wasn't a vampire! he winced internally for comparing himself to Vlad for a minute.

“Do you know what I like to do when I'm bored?” Danny asked, swinging his feet from side to side, trying to drive the taste of the ectoplasm out of his mind and diverte the energy meant for biting into the continuous movement of his feet.

"Mutilate fruits and vegetables beyond recognition?" Jason teased, if he had noticed his sudden nervousness he didn't show it.

"Besides that smart ass" Danny rolled his eyes at the comment.

"I have no idea, but it doesn't look like you can stay still for long" Jason pointed out curiously.

"You're right, I don't like sitting still" Danny agreed with him "that made my older sister really desperate, so she taught me something"

Jason had no idea he had a sister, so he decided not to mention it. He would definitely bring up the subject at another time.

"Did she taught you how to swing on expensive chandeliers and a little gymnastics?" Jason asked, if that was the case then it would be a complete coincidence because that was precisely what Dick had taught him when he was a child.

Unfortunately they didn't have the same amount of energy and Jason didn't find funny being dropped off buildings to "learn how to fly", he'd broken his arm once!

"I don't think she knows how to do that," Danny muttered to himself "but no, she taught me how to dance"

"You? Dancing?" Jason raised an eyebrow.

It's not that he believed it impossible, it's just that dancing required a lot of patience even if it was mostly about movement; Danny was definitely not the definition of patience.

"Yes, I like to dance, it's quite relaxing and it helps drain energy" Danny smiled, he had figured out how to divert his new energy "but let me ask you a few questions first"

"I don't see how that's relevant, but as you wish Doll" Jason agreed easily. He had no reason not to trust him with dance questions

"Have you ever danced with Death?" Danny offered his hand in invitation. It was a last minute decision, and the question probably sounded strange but he couldn't help it.

"One time, it wasn't a pleasant experience." Jason took the offered hand. Thinking about death wasn't very satisfying but he was curious where the boy was going with those questions.

"Would you like to try again?" Danny pulled him to the center of the room with a smile "I promise I'll do better"

"I didn't picture you as a grim reaper," Jason teased as he followed him into the center of the room, trying to ignore all the implications.

"Maybe I am, maybe I'm not" Danny said cryptically, although it was obvious he was joking "Anyway, I promise to treat you better than she did"

"Okay, but we're going to need some music" Jason commented, reaching over to take his phone.

"I have it solved, pretty boy" Danny hit the play button on his phone as a song began to play. Did he have his phone the whole time? Jason wondered.

I used to hear a simple song, that was until you came along

The song didn't sound familiar to Jason, but the melody relaxed him, and he began to follow in Danny's footsteps. Which seemed to be looking at him with a smile on his face as he gently swayed across the living room.

Now in its place is something new

Jason recalled the happy moments after getting out of Ra's contaminated pit. When he thought that he would be listed as a villain but instead the inhabitants of Crime Alley began to follow him, considering him their protector. When he was greeted with a hug instead of a frown, so similar but different from when he was a child.

I hear it when I look at you

Danny continued to take careful steps as he moved around the room. He liked being with Jason, it made him feel free in a way his family never could.

Jazz had been his only salvation, the only escape he could allow himself, and yet when she left Amity he didn't feel bad; just empty, a little sad. Maybe it was because he knew he was stopping his sister, one way or another.

Danny was aware that Jazz had never been able to afford a normal childhood because of him, that their parents meant well but their intentions were not good to take care of something more than themselves

With simple songs I wanted more, perfection is so quick to bore

Jason remembered his family nights, when they were all together. Or at least pretending to be; The times when they got together to watch Cass's dance recitals. The moment the whole family hosted a small dinner to celebrate Tim's promotion to CEO.

When everyone was a normal family instead of reluctant allies, when his family showed love to each other without words, which never worked for them anyway. And he remembered hating having to come out of the perfect picture.

He remembered how much he'd missed Dick's little pranks, having to force Tim to get some sleep, cooking for Cass, even having an afternoon explaining Damian about art history.

But he didn't belong in that painting. The moment he died he was banned from Bruce Wayne's beautiful family, the boy who was welcome in that loving home was left underground.

He returned to life worse than ever and without the right to return home, the small moments in which they seemed to accept him were only fantasies and he felt like crying or shouting at the world for that injustice.

I'm Jason Todd, and as much as you screw me up, I'm still standing.

He just didn't know where he was standing.

You are more beautiful by far

Danny watched a series of complicated expressions pass over Jason's face and decided to help, he turned him around as they talked "Don't think about it, even if it causes you pain, you must remember that you are still standing"

Danny knew a lot about having complicated emotions on different situations, and maybe he wasn't the best at giving advice but it didn't hurt to try "sometimes, it's better to accept that acting is the best solution"

Jason knew they weren't on the same line of conversation but answered anyway "No, leaving means dying."

Leaving meant going back to his family, meant waiting for acceptance where he had no right. Exposing them to danger out of a selfish desire to have someone to depend on again.

Leaving meant going back to being the scared little boy inside an explosion that led to his death. It meant talking about how he felt even if no one was willing to listen to his words. Jason was tired of being the one to get scared, the one to protect others, but what choice did he have? There was no choice but to face the world head on, get angry, and do something about it where no one else was.

Danny looked at him a little confused but remembered what Jazz had told him "On the contrary, leaving means living before you die"

He would know, he had died because of his parents desire for knowledge, he forced himself to be there for others even when there was no one for him. He refused to accept that there was someone other than him to solve the world's problems, no matter how heavy they were. The city blamed all its problems on the recently dead boy, and he did nothing to contradict them.

Sam and Tucker knew it, they had tried so many times to get the city to leave him alone, but they were just kids. None of them could see an alternative, a different way to act, a way to save themselves as well as the others. Danny gave up because no one had saved him, and maybe no one would ever come to save him.

He gave up to such an extent that he forgot that it was possible to save himself. That he could learn how to swim in the sea that was drowning him. That respirators existed for those who could not breathe.

He chained himself to a duty that was not his and lost everything he cared about, until his home felt like a death trap, his parents like enemies, and his city like a prison. But over the years he got it, he didn't have to be there, he had to act fast, move, leave.

The reason he came to Gotham was because he needed to live again, he needed to remember that he was as alive as he was dead.

"Jason, it's okay to wish others well, to wish them to be perfectly happy, but just like everyone else, you must also allow yourself to be happy in the same way" The halfa decided to say as he continued the dance.

Maybe it was a pointless comment, and it had nothing to do with what Jay was thinking, but he needed to let him know, for his own sake as well as his.

Our flaws are who we really are

Jason allowed himself to think on his words for a moment. Danny had no idea of his identity as Red Hood, would he still say the same after finding out? It was unlikely, but he liked to believe so.

"What makes you so sure it's the best solution?" He asked quietly, when Danny talked about acting he thought maybe he should act in response to his own fears.Take action and leave them behind.

"You don't know, I think that's the thrill of living" Danny smiled as he increased the speed of his steps "sometimes you have to take risks hoping for the best"

One thing he learned after he died was that fear of taking risks was unnecessary. If something was going to happen it would, even if you tried to avoid it in every possible way. It was just the way fate worked. What people used to forget is that they were in control of their own fate.

"Taking risks could get you killed," Jason stated with a frown, following his movements a little more robotically than he intended.

"I'll teach you something that someone important to me taught me" Danny stated, remembering one of Clockwork's lessons.

I used to hear a simple song

"What will you tell me? That there is no point in fearing death because there is so much to live for? Someone gave me that talk a long time ago" and he had died for having listened to it, for throwing himself without precautions like his father had taught him.

"No Jay, nobody wants to die," Danny assured, recalling his own experience "even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there"

"So?" Jason frowned, not quite understanding.

"However, we all end up dying right?" Danny smiled sadly "some sooner than others, but no one escapes it"

"This isn't making me feel any better, Doll" Jason said.

"I didn't mean to make you feel better, just to tell you that there's no point in being afraid to act because death will always be there, it will still do it if you decide not to act, you know?" Danny said as he pulled him closer to himself, even if he was a little short he could lead the dance.

Jason sighed accepting the point as he tried to relax. Maybe Danny was right and he should stop being so cautious around what he loved.

But he had spent so much time being afraid of hurting them that he didn't know how to stop. Maybe things will get better now. Even if most of his siblings backed away from him out of caution, it was the best he'd been in a long time.

That was until you came along

Jason noticed at that moment that the pits weren't acting, he wasn't angry. He was sad, desperate, maybe a little heartbroken but definitely not angry. For some reason Danny helped with that, something in that carefree boy with cooking problems made him feel better.

Neither of the two boys noticed how Danny was slowly feeding on the corrupted ectoplasm the longer they maintained contact. How his fangs were getting smaller and his urge to bite lessened. The halfa assumed it was just a positive effect of dancing.

Jason just felt better overall as he continued with the dance. He attributed it to his growing feelings for the cute boy. Something about that goofy boy, who had a problem with taking care of himself and a lot of mysteries wrapped around just appealed to him. Maybe it was time to start accepting it, at least until the effects of the gas wore off and they both had to go back to the real world far from the apartment.

You took my broken melody

Jason closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the song. He felt broken, the pits made him feel like a damaged product but it would be hypocritical of him to say that because he told Danny that people couldn't be defective right? It was time to start believing his own words.

Humans weren't born defective, and radioactive pits weren't going to change that. He just had to keep repeating that long enough for him to gain the courage to act on his words. Until the moment he allowed himself to return to the side of the family and recognize that he deserved love too, the love that many of them were willing to give him.

Danny also closed his eyes, letting himself go, a little guilty for having to teach Jay such a bittersweet lesson, Clockwork wasn't the best with feelings, nor how to express them. Clockwork was time, time was honest in every way and did not embellish the truth.

Clockwork was his mentor and yet they had met because he was destined to die. Apparently when time doesn't like the fate you're taking he decides it is better to let you know. Danny wondered if Clocky would yell at him if falling for Jason was a bad idea.

And now I hear a symphony

When they both opened their eyes, they were smiling. By some miracle neither of them had tripped over something in the room, or maybe it was just fate acting but they felt a little better.

They finished the song tired, with their hair completely tousled but feeling lighter than they had ever felt before. Who would have thought that a dance could free so much of what you have trapped? And make you think about the situation a little more.

Maybe ignoring the world for a couple of days while staying inside the apartment wasn't such a bad idea after all. Perhaps it was the best idea either of them had ever come up with.

Danny pointed at his phone again and Jason nodded. It was morning and they had a lot of time to waste, so dancing a little more was not a bad idea.

"Love" sang the little crow watching them from the couch, for some reason he had stopped speaking during the entire exchange, maybe he understood the scene, or he was just tired.

───────────────

"No, no, no, no, I refuse" Johnny said as he pushed Amorpho out of the apartment.

The moment Danny had walked through that door with red eyes, he knew that was definitely not his usual roomie but an impostor.

"No refunds, until Danny gets back from the alleged kidnapping this is a roomie swap" Amorpho sneered as he pushed Johnny into the apartment again "Move over, a new star has come to town"

"But that could take DAYS" Johnny grumbled. He was glad that Danny was with his crush, maybe making some headway. What he didn't like was an intruder in his temporary haunt.

"It's good than I'm replacing him at school then" Amorpho scoffed, stealing Johnny's spot on the couch, Johnny dramatically inhaled and pointed at him in offense.

"MY COUCH" The motorcyclist complained. It had been his couch since the day he'd arrived, which might not sound like much, but by now Johnny had already claimed the couch as his own. His place.

"Our couch" Amorpho corrected him.

He was well aware that the ghost didn't like his company, but he needed a place to stay since he had been dragged to Gotham anyway.

Besides, now that he had new friends and had joined the drama club to star in Beauty and the Beast then he had to stay until the production was over.

If he was completely honest, even if Danny was bounding back out that door in a matter of minutes he'd deny him from going back to college for a long time. He had already put enough effort into attending that supposed advanced physics class for all his efforts to be despised.

Shadow simply sighed as they peeked out of Johnny's shadow to see the new temporary resident and went back into hiding, they weren't going to deal with that.

On the other hand, Cujo woke up and began to bark at the two ghosts until they paid attention to him.

"What's wrong Cujo?" Johnny asked, preferring to pay more attention to the pup than to the couch usurping ghost.

Cujo grunted as he held up a very particular can of soup, to which Johnny cocked his head in confusion.

"That's Danny's ectoplasm" the motorcyclist stated before realizing the problem "DANNY LEFT WITHOUT HIS ECTOPLASM"

"Is that a bad thing?" Amorpho asked curiously looking at the can, honestly it only brought back bad memories "Gotham has enough ectoplasm for him"

"Sure, but Danny's been feeding on pure ectoplasm instead of human food for a while, do you know what that means?" Johnny put his hands on Amorpho's shoulders and started to shake him "he'll have a reaction!"

"How bad can it be?" Amorpho snorted.

"He'll start biting the floor" Johnny said seriously, remembering Lunch's story of the first time she had to deliver emergency ectoplasm to Danny's new haunt because the halfa had run out of reserves "his body will look for the nearest ectoplasm and I'm sorry if I I don't want to become a teether toy for halfas"

"Danny is far from here" Amorpho brushed off the concern.

"But we're the purest ectoplasm in the area," Johnny stated, shaking the can.

"Okay, let's go find him and give him his silly ectoplasm," Amorpho grumbled, "where is he though?"

Cujo groaned as he lay down on the floor, his new caretakers were useless and he wished Danny would come back soon.

Oblivious to the ghosts, Gotham had a perfectly accessible source of ectoplasm below the city, and a slightly impure source right next to the halfa.

───────────────

After a morning in which they both danced their hearts out, Danny and Jason had decided to take a nap, they never let go of each other's hand. Of course, when Jason woke up he didn't expect to see a suspicious shadow moving through his kitchen. The crow was happily sleeping next to the window.

"What are you doing in my house?" Jason questioned absently before noticing that indeed, there was someone there "WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?"

"I want waffle fries" Dick came out of the darkness with an empty plate, looking at his brother with a pleading face.

"I'm not going to cook for you right now" Jason said offended "What am I, your personal chef?"

"Since you're the only one who can cook, yes" Dick nodded, offering his empty plate again.

"That's a complete lie, you could have asked Alfie and you know it" Jason pointed at him accusingly.

Before the two began arguing among themselves, the halfa decided it was better if they noticed him, he assumed Jay had forgotten he was in the room.

"Um, Jay?" Danny tugged at Jason's nightshirt, hiding himself from the sight of the guy who randomly walked into the house "Who is he?"

Danny was lucky to decide not to attack the sudden threat, because the two of them seemed pretty close to each other, however, who walks into someone else's house randomly to order fries?

"Oh, you had a guest" Dick said stupidly.

"Yes, I have a guest," Jason growled in annoyance "Would you mind explaining to him what you're doing here, officer fries?"

Jason and Dick had a staring contest, challenging the other to speak first. However, Dick lost first because Jason nodded towards his empty plate and he took the cue.

If I talk I'm not going to cook anything for you

"I'm sorry, I'm officer Richard Grayson, I usually contact this young man to give him the details of the cases in which he is involved" Dick said clearing his throat, it seemed that being a police officer had served him well.

"Do you get into a lot of trouble?" Danny looked at Jason, concerned, dating Hood must really put him in danger.

"Yes, as Hood's assistant" he said emphasizing the title while looking at the officer "I'm usually the one who talks to the police and stuff, so we're very familiar with each other"

Officer Grayson nodded but Danny looked at the empty plate with a raised eyebrow, he didn't quite believe them.

"Still totally a Dick move, mate" Danny pointed at the officer, who tried to cover his laughter at the comment with a cough "you don't go into other people's houses and demand food"

"And yet I'm going to cook his dumb fries." Jason rolled his eyes as he snatched the empty plate from Dick's hands "come on Danny."

"I was informed that you were involved in Scarecrow's attack" Dick said curiously "is that why you guys are so close?"

Inwardly, Dick wondered if the union was really due to Scarecrow's attack and not his brother's new crush. Maybe it could be both, considering Jason “Pitter” Todd looked so possessive of the civilian when he took him away.

"You're a very nosy police officer" Jason shot him a stink-eye "we found the effects wear off for him with physical contact"

"You should probably inform the bats," Dick said offhandedly, though the message was obvious. I'll tell the bats.

"Bats are very nosy, they don't need more information about it" Jason refused. Don't you dare.

"However, it might be useful for them to have more information to combat the gas" Dick replied. They need to know.

"It's irrelevant information, they don't need to know" Jason said. They don't need to know about Danny.

Danny just watched the discussion not knowing if he should interrupt. He felt he was missing something but he was never good at reading between the lines.

"Excuse me, why would it help to tell the bats?" Danny asked the officer, frowning "I know they're fascinating animals, but I don't see how they can be of any help,"

"You don't know who the bats are?" Dick questioned in shock, if the guy worked for Hood he should know.

"He's not from Gotham," Jason hastened to clarify "The Bats are a group of vigilantes who dress up as bats to fight crime"

"So, furries?" Danny cocked his head considering the new information.

"If you say it like that it sounds horrible" Dick grimaced, although if you looked at it from another angle they really did

"There's nothing wrong with that, my friend Tucker is one, it's a matter of taste I think" Danny shrugged.

"Wait, didn't you say you've been living in Gotham for a few months?" Jason raised an eyebrow. "How come you've never heard of the Bats or even Crane?"

"Well, I think I did but…" Danny thought about his first days in Gotham.

───────────────

Danny was tired, after running away from Amity he needed a place to stay but why did it have to be in New Jersey? Something bad always happens in New Jersey! According to Sam.

He looked at the city sign that said "Welcome to Gotham City, the worst place to live" and even though the latter was written in graffiti he smiled, well at least it felt like home..

However, the smile faded from his face as soon as he saw a clown laughing at a guy in a bat costume while he enrolled in his new university; he wasn't going to judge their clothing choices, but why a clown?

He found out later that the madman was called "Joker", (some self-assigned nickname, perhaps?) and caused a lot of destruction, to the point where the city had something called "Joker insurance", apparently the furry also had "Batman insurance" for property damage.

The halfa decided to classify them as rogues of the city. Amity had a lot of them before the portal closed, and perhaps they were in competition with each other to see who had the most control in Gotham.

So when his classmate Amy mentioned that Batman had destroyed her house to catch Dr. Freeze he frowned.

Batman must be very possessive of Gotham's control.

As he explored the city in search of an apartment he met some very colorful people: a bat man, a crocodile man, a woman dressed as plants, more clowns and even two cats!

Maybe Gotham just dressed so extravagantly out of habit, and it wasn't really a weird thing, they were just all weird by default, or a lot of cosplayers.

Then when he visualized a boy with bat ears he shrugged. He must be part of a theme band, or maybe he's a fan of that Bat-man guy.

When he "borrowed" his apartment in Crime Alley he decided to relax and ignore all the rumors. Soon after, his university was destroyed by this "Joker" guy and he had to take online classes for a while.

The Goons sometimes talked about people he didn't understand "Poison Ivy" "Catwoman" "Harley Quinn" he guessed they were code-speaking by nicknames; he decided to ignore it and ask someone later, he didn't want to be nosy and he doubted it would affect him in the near future.

By the time face-to-face classes returned, he noticed that many of his classmates were whispering about a Scarecrow man, which he considered rude so he shut down the rumors. You shouldn't talk behind others' backs after all.

───────────────

"I heard of Batman, but I thought he was a very possessive rogue, I had no idea he was a vigilante" Danny shrugged "or had an entourage."

"It's not an entourage!" Dick exclaimed "it's camaraderie and mutual respect"

"Yes, an entourage of bats" the halfa nodded as he followed Jason into the kitchen.

"No wait, you thought Batman was a villain?" Jason smiled broadly, he needed to share that with his other siblings.

"Fights with others, causes property damage, he's possessive of the city" Danny began to count on his fingers "Yeah, it seemed like villainous behavior"

"But he also donates to the city, fights the real villains and keeps the streets safe" Dick replied.

"No, from what I heard Bruce Wayne donates to the city, even though fighting bad guys is a good reason I thought he was doing it out of possessiveness" Danny clarified.

"You have no idea about villains or vigilantes but you know exactly who Bruce Wayne is?" Jason raised an eyebrow, taking out the materials to cook the potatoes.

"Well, I had to know who to run from, obviously" Danny said, rolling his eyes.

"Why would you run from Bruce Wayne?" Dick asked feeling doubtful "he's just a playboy with a lot of kids"

"I don't like millionaires" Danny narrowed his eyes "and I remember reading that he had a son named Richard, just like you"

"Okay, you got me, he's my dad" Dick sighed, there was no point in denying it if the boy was paranoid with millionaires.

Although neither of the other two knew about it, Danny was very paranoid about people with money and big houses. He investigated Bruce Wayne to get out of his way, just like Lex Luthor and Oliver Queen, Vlad had left him a bad experience that he didn't plan to repeat.

"I'm sorry for your loss" Danny patted Dick's shoulder solemnly.

"I'm not dead" Dick said, offended.

"If you're not offended, why don't you go back to the mansion and have Alfred cook your fries, eh?" Jason smirked as he pointed at Dick with a knife.

"You're scary when you have a knife in your hand," Dick pointed out, though he didn't seem threatened at all "But I didn't want to upset Alfie, I moved a long time ago"

"Or you didn't want to see Bruce, you probably got into a fight with him again," Jason pointed out as he went back to his task of cutting potatoes with one hand.

The halfa tried to help him by cutting another part of the potatoes, but most of his potato pieces were jagged. So he frowned and tried to do a little better.

"Again, sorry for your loss" Danny repeated "millionaires can't be trusted, I get it officer"

Every millionaire has a secret basement and something to hide. The halfa refrained from saying out loud, it would be impolite to speak ill of the father of the non-guest.

Dick rolled his eyes, even if Jason wasn't wrong and he had fought with Bruce, he wouldn't let him know. It was quite obvious that the family had some problems with each other.

"Oh, who's Alfie?" Danny asked remembering the name "The only thing I understood is that he could cook"

"He's a cat," Jason said nonchalantly, taking the jagged potato wedges Danny made along with his own and starting to cook them.

"No, he's my butler" Dick corrected his younger brother before Danny had any ideas. He already had weird theories with millionaires, surely he didn't need fuel to theorize about butlers too.

"But it's also a cat" Jason said again. It was quite easy to tease his older brother at the moment, and since his roles were usually opposite, he was having fun.

"He's a butler cat who can cook?" Danny asked, more and more confused. The mental image of a small white cat with a frying pan flashed into his mind and he chuckled. He reminded him of one of the videos he had seen online.

"Alfred is a Wayne family butler" the policeman said with a sigh "but yes, we also have a cat named Alfred"

Dick congratulated himself for not saying ours throughout the conversation, he was doing a good job of keeping Jason's cover. Even if the two people in front of him were getting a bit infuriating.

Maybe he shouldn't have randomly interrupted Jason after he faced a Scarecrow attack, but he had a huge craving for waffle fries, and both Alfred and Jason were the only ones who knew how to make them correctly.

"Doesn't that get confusing quickly?" Danny said, feeling a bit queasy from all the going back and forth, the rich really did have weird traditions.

"Probably, my little brother loved Alfred the butler and decided to name the cat after him" Dick shrugged, there was nothing that could be done when Damian decided to name his new pets after something, and as long as Alfred didn't get offended by it, it was fine.

"Rich people really do have weird hobbies" Danny whispered to Jason as he handed over more of the potato wedges.

"Yeah, I don't know how they handle all the luxury" Jason whispered back with a grin.

He was well aware that his older brother was listening to him perfectly, but he didn't care. He really didn't know how they managed to bear all the luxury and details that the mansion had, there were times when it was too much.

Deciding not to mention their conversation, Dick began to evaluate them. They seemed quite comfortable with each other, even if Danny really needed the physical contact he thought Jason would be more reluctant to accept.

Could it be that his brother was in love?

"Here are your waffle fries Dick" Jason put the perfectly done fries in front of the police officer, who looked at them with stars in his eyes.

"You're a kitchen angel!" Dick exclaimed as he began to eat them, they tasted as good as he remembered.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Jason huffed as he put another two batches of fries in front of him and Danny, they were more irregular in shape and indistinct, but Jason didn't seem bothered about it.

Danny's heart raced as he realized Jason was specifically eating the potatoes he'd cut up, even if they didn't look like they should. He couldn't help but smile as he stole a few.

"Hey Doll, don't be a thief" Jason slapped the hand who was stealing from him as he pushed the fries away from the halfa's reach.

"I'm not the one insulting a police officer" Danny grumbled under his breath as he decided to stick with his perfectly cooked slice of waffle fries that Jason had handed him. They were very well made but he wanted the effort of both of them.

Jason ignored the pleading face Danny was sending him as he ate the misshapen fries, he didn't know why he felt possessive towards them but he did.

"But he wasn't insulting me" said Dick, confused by the comment, although it was a bit unintelligible due to the amount of fries he had in his mouth at that moment.

"He called you Dick and multiple variants of it a couple of times" Danny pointed out in confusion, that was obviously an insult.

"Besides, don't be an animal and swallow before you speak" Jason scolded.

"You read that my name was Richard but you don't know that my nickname is Dick?" The policeman said in disbelief, maybe the boy was bad at investigation.

"Did any of your friends hate you? Or did your parents?" Danny asked with concern, surely no one would choose that nickname voluntarily.

"I have no idea what you're implying, I had a very good family, and my friends loved me very much" Dick replied, narrowing his eyes.

"Did you choose that nickname willingly?" The halfa told him worried "Did you know what you were getting yourself into?"

"I'm not from this country, I came in a circus" Dick rolled his eyes "and my nickname is beautiful, thank you very much"

"Beautiful for a big Di-" Danny tried to say but was stopped by Jason putting a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. Well, he supposed he'd let the circus boy go for once.

"Anyway, I'm here to report that Nightwing will visit later to update you on the cure" Dick informed.

"Nightwing must be a nosy vigilante" Jason scoffed as he finished his fries.

"And how do you know about him? Is it some Bruce Wayne secret?" Danny asked suspiciously, communication with those bats (glorified furries) was weird.

"No, it's because I work in Blüdhaven with him" The police officer quickly denied, the less this paranoid boy knew the better.

"Uh, but if you work there, why do you come here to ask Jason about Hood? He shouldn't be part of your jurisdiction." Danny narrowed his eyes, catching a hint of a lie.

"Oh, it's just that I found out they had a close relationship" Dick tried to fix the problem "and since I'm familiar with Gotham because I lived here, the cops send me every time they have a problem"

Jason knew that everything his older brother was saying at that moment was nonsense. He simply hoped that Danny would buy it without commenting too much.

"I understand what you mean" Danny nodded understanding the situation, he assumed that the police had found out about Jason's relationship with Hood, so they sent an outside officer to confirm if the rumors were true.

"Yes, totally" although he was surprised that Danny believed his words, Dick accepted it, even if he had a feeling he was feeding another bizarre theory.

Everyone already knew about their relationship or is Gotham very gossipy? Danny wondered

"Thank you very much for the fries, Chef Jay" Dick nodded, waving his empty plate "it was delicious as always."

"Sadly I can't get rid of you if I don't feed you," Jason grumbled as he leaned back on Danny's head.

"Although I'm glad your coexistence is going well, I still have to inform the bats so" The policeman pointed to the door "wait for a visit very soon, bye!"

With that said, the officer ran out of the apartment, though Danny swore he was holding back the urge to jump buildings. But that made no sense, not everyone in Gotham had to be weird.

"You have very strange friends" the halfa commented to Jason once the policeman was out of sight.

"Friends who don't even know how to lock the door" Jason complained looking at how he had turned out his apartment "Don't stay too comfortable, one of the bats is going to come here later"

"One of the furries? I think I can handle it" Danny sneered, he had lived with Tucker all his life, another furry shouldn't be a problem.

"I don't think you understand, they're very nosy Doll" Jason frowned worriedly, stroking his hand "they'll want to know everything"

"Well, all we're going to tell them is that you're making me fat like the witch from Hansel and Gretel" Danny replied with a smirk.

"I'm much prettier than the witch in a story" Jason sneered with a smile on his face.

"Of course, you're much sexier, and comfortable," Danny said, though he regretted speaking "I mean, compared to the witch who's probably totally wrinkled and toothless"

"Don't try to improve it, the beginning was fine" Jason smiled shaking his head, amused "but my food is so much better than some cheap candy"

"Sure, your fabulous five star food that none of us poor mortals are worthy of" Danny said dramatically, pretending to faint.

"You really enjoy my food, don't you?" Jason said happily. Something inside of him felt irrefutably glad that both Dick and Danny were enjoying everything he made, even if it was simple things "lunch could be better though, you need more than potatoes."

"I don't think so, I usually eat very little, I think that if you keep feeding me I won't be able to stand it" the halfa said sadly.

Since his food was usually combined with a lot of ectoplasm, he didn't need to eat that often. But since he wouldn't be taking his daily dose with Johnny it was unlikely his stomach would get used to so much food all at once.

Even if he loved Jason's cooking he couldn't handle more than small meals, the pancakes and potatoes were fine, even if they were heavy they were in small quantities, but he couldn't handle anything more than that. Perhaps dinner.

"What do you mean? Your friend makes sure you eat, right?" Jason asked worriedly, he knew very well how to adjust to an eating rhythm when you weren't used to it, but he thought it wasn't Danny's case.

"My friend has only been here a short time," Danny hastened to explain, a little embarrassed, "just like my…neighbor, she's the one who sends me food."

The halfa didn't know how to correctly explain her relationship with ghosts; they were technically friends, but they were enemies at one point, and some still feuded with him on a regular basis.

Even if they had explained to him that fighting was a way for the ghosts to unite, he was still a bit annoyed that no one had explained it to him in the first place, so yes, his relationship with them was quite complicated. Since they were from a nearby dimension, he guessed that neighbors was the correct term. Lunch could also be called a friend, but it felt a bit weird.

"What? I thought he cooked your meals, or you did" Jason said, growing increasingly worried by the endless number of new revelations.

"Neither of us knows how to cook" Danny denied "our mutual neighbor brings us some food from our hometown to get us through the week, my friend just makes sure I really eat it"

"Isn't that dangerous? What if she starts avoiding Gotham? This place isn't bees and flowers, it's normal for tourists to refuse to visit" Jason asked, stroking the halfa's hand to comfort himself.

"I don't think that's the case," Danny said after thinking about it for a moment. He doubted any of the ghosts were scared of Gotham. They were almost impossible to kill and the blood flowers had long since been extinct.

Unless Gotham has an excellent groundskeeper, they have nothing to fear here.

That just added to Jason's worries, Danny was confident that someone else would enter Gotham on a monthly basis to bring him some food.

"I'm going to teach you how to cook, there is no other alternative" the vigilante declared suddenly "but moving on to the next topic, how much do you eat a day?"

Jason needed to adjust his rations according to the response he gave him. He'd been cooking carelessly, having fun, that he'd forgotten that Danny might have some dietary need, or some special need.

"It's okay Jay" Danny assured him, tightening his grip on his hands "most of my allergies are covered, and I only eat small amounts but it's pretty normal, you shouldn't worry."

"I was speaking out loud, wasn't I?" Jason wailed when he noticed his mistake.

"Sure, but you were just worried" Danny comforted him "it's normal Jay, if it makes you feel better I'll tell you what I usually eat"

Jason wasn't thrilled to find out Danny just forgot to eat, but he drank his "green tea" daily, which apparently wasn't a tea he could get his hands on since it was originally from his hometown, which he deeply refused to talk about.

Given the amount of trouble Babs had been having getting into his city network, he could understand the caution a bit. Even if it was extremely rare.

Jason wondered if he should use the gas excuse to kidnap him for a couple of days. After all, the universities within Gotham had plenty of policies to make up fouls for Rogue attacks

Danny wouldn't mind staying at his house for a couple of days, would he?

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

Annd tag time, this update is a bit longer than normal but I love the number and needed to go for it, supposedly this is 7777 from Chapter 7 so welcome to the Jackptot! I hope you liked it!

I'll dig into the fangs later, but yeah, a part of Danny is very hungry and Jason is unconsciously feeding it, although it's kind of mutual since he's healing him so it's okay.

Johnny and Amorpho are going to get into a lot of trouble in the next chapter, and here comes the big brother! Danny is too distracted when he wants to lol

@skulld3mort-1fan@sorryiwonnoob@idfk-man10@avelnfear@criticaloverthinker@confusedandghostly @lunadoll36 @spidey29phangirl @suppengott @yjfk@apointlessbox@mimilikey@thegatorsgoose@jaggedheart11@dyinggirldied@pyramaniac@akikkobara@thedragonqueen1998@lostlightandfoundcrazy@xye-chan@saltyladynightmare @ashleysmshly @thewondersoflebanon@illusionwolfwriter24r8@littlefeather345@asphyxia778@amercurio@leftmiraclechaos @dixiwoods @satoshy12@lyra689@meira-3919@quietlyscared@plotwholls @kyrianclawraith @blacksea21090@basilf1res @flowers-n-fauna @8-29pm@phantom-dc@luer-mirin@taniaundertaleau@cloriform@readerkayden@oddlydrawnpuppets@basementloser@little-green-asparagus@echoednonny@yummy-yummy-mmmbones@confusionchaos@ectoplasm024@autumnwulf@666deaddash999@redhoneysugarorange@blue-avis@sailor-goddess@satanicrutialspecialist

#dpxdc #dc x dp #dead on main #Hood assistant #dp x dc #Red hood #the goonion #This is angst #but there is fluff too #Dick was not in my plans #but he wanted waffle fries ig #jason todd x danny fenton

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