#fic: heading straight to you

[lucienarcheron]

Heading Straight to You [ Elucien ]

Inspired by @washmchineheart elucien post here. I went a little nuts in the tags again and needed to write it out. A little Bridgerton-inspired Elucien, if you will! I hope you all enjoy it :)

Genre: Angsty/Romance | Masterlist | AO3

shoutout to @zenkindoflove for letting me talk it out with you :)

Gods, Elain had never been so angry in her life.

He had sent her a letter.

A letter.

The nerve of it made Elain snarl under her breath as she stomped towards his humble abode in the Night Court, her anger increasing with each step she took; she was glad Feyre had the foresight not to ask questions when Elain had stormed out. 

Elain wasn’t foolish. Did she even have a right to be this angry? Probably not and yet she was simmering with rage.

She knew she hadn’t made things easy for him. Hadn’t really given him too much of a chance to get to know her. But she had been trying. 

Yes, she was still hesitant and careful and awkward around him. With everyone watching their every move, how could she not be! 

But for him to send her a letter? A letter! As if it would be so easy to answer such a question. As if he couldn’t even dignify her with a face-to-face conversation. 

Elain was in front of his home and pounding on his door faster than she expected. 

Lucien opened the door with a mildly confused expression until he saw that it was her standing before him and carefully arranged his features. 

Elain could only hold up the letter, fuming at his calm demeanor.

“I see you received my letter.” 

“How dare you.” she spat.

Lucien narrowed his eyes before silently stepping back and opening his door further, gesturing with his hand for her to come in. “A note with your answer would have sufficed.” he said blandly. “You didn’t have to come all this way to break the news to me.”

Elain didn’t move from his doorway. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Lucien lifted a brow at his mate, a muscle flexing in his jaw before he answered, “Why would it be a joke?” he asked. “Is there something about my letter that was unclear?”

“You sent me a letter.” she snapped. 

“Yes.” he said again in that bland tone that Elain wasn’t used to and did not appreciate. “Though I fail to understand why you seem so upset by it.”

“You’ve barely spoken to me in the last few weeks and instead of trying to have a conversation about this in person, you sent me a stupid letter asking me that?” 

Lucien watched her as she watched him, noting how his grip had tightened on the doorframe. “Why would I seek you out when the moment you know I’m in the city you hide away or make an excuse to avoid me?” he asked curtly. “I’ve been polite about it enough, I think.” 

He stood before her, dressed impeccably as always, his expression now stoic like he hadn’t sent her a devastating question to answer. It made her want to throttle him.

Elain scoffed then opened the letter, gripping it tightly as she read it aloud,

My lady,

As you may have noticed, the communication between us has continued to dwindle and at this point, I will not continue to delude myself into thinking you have any interest in seeing what could be between us. I have given you as much grace as I can extend, but I am reaching a limit that is impacting my own well-being. Please know that I understand we do not owe each other affection but I had thought we at least owed each other a conversation to see if we could be, at the bare minimum, friends. You don’t seem inclined to want that and as such, I am sending you this letter to ask you a question that will release us both from this limbo we’ve been left in.

Do you wish to sever the bond between us? If so, please let me know. A simple yes will be enough.

Regards, Lucien Vanserra 

“Regards!” she snapped. “This is not the kind of thing you ask someone via letter.”

“Again, you’ve never stayed in the same room long enough for me to ask for a conversation.”

Elain flushed. He was right, of course. She couldn’t really deny that this was one of the things she was stubborn about. 

And at first, she was overwhelmed. And sad. And trying to find herself again. Now…now? She wasn’t even sure. She was nervous. Embarrassed. Lost.

He worked his jaw as she glared at him then gestured again to his home. “Would you like to come inside and discuss this?” he asked. “I don’t think this is the kind of conversation we should be having where we could be overheard.”

Elain scoffed and moved past him, shoving the letter to his chest as she stomped into his living room and tried not to think about the brief contact she made with his chest. 

She wouldn't think about that at all when he was asking her to cut ties. 

“You care if people overhear us but are fine to send this in a letter.”

“And?” he asked, his tone sharper than it had ever been with her as he joined her in his living space. “I’m happy to give you an additional night if you’d like to think about it but given the way you’ve actively avoided me for years and barely speak in my presence, I would’ve thought you’d be jumping for joy at the chance to say yes.”

“Oh, and you know me so well to anticipate what kind of responses I would give you?” She asked, her tone veering on a sneer that she had never heard herself use.

“Considering you act as though I’m a parasite here to infect you, I made an educated guess based on the very loud thoughts you yell my way from the noose of a thread wrapped around our throats.”

Elain pursed her lips, the angry flush on her cheeks deepening. “So you admit it’s a burden and not a gift?”

“It is a gift but if you don’t wish to see it that way, I am not a male who forces his company on anyone and I am sick of waiting for you to grow a spine and request to cut the ties between us.” he snapped quietly. “You toy with me and my time. One day you grant me a moment of your company, the next you pretend I don’t exist. You may think I’m a statue with no emotions but I can assure you, my lady, I can only tolerate so much. This has gone on long enough.” Elain watched him with narrowed eyes as he adjusted his stance, his gaze burning a hole through her body. “So I’ll ask you again, do you wish to sever this bond between us?” 

Elain felt her body heat and if she could burst into flames she would. 

Yes, she’d been resistant. Yes, she’d avoided him. 

But gods, he really had no idea.

She had been human. She was going to be married and had a whole life planned out. She wouldn’t have these powers that she had no control over. She wouldn’t have these nightmares of being kidnapped in the middle of the night. Her brain wouldn’t have to keep reliving the horrors of the cauldron. She wouldn’t have to keep pretending she was fine.

It wasn’t even him that was the problem. It was everything else. It was her life being snatched from her. It was her choices being stripped away as a casualty for a war she had nothing to do with.

It was that he had been nothing but polite to her since they met despite her avoidance. 

It was that this bond made her hate herself for staying away from him because every fiber in her body only urged her to go to him instead.

“You think it is so easy to sever this bond?” she hissed, glaring at him. “I’m not a fool – I understand the consequences that would follow such an action. I won’t be responsible for what happens to you.”

“Don’t pretend you’re worried about me, my lady. If I am to lose my mind at the expense of you being free from the shackles that tie you to me, I will do it.” he snapped. “If only to stop feeling like a beggar for scrapes at your feet.”

“I never asked you to wait.” 

“Your problem is that you barely speak to me, much less ask for anything.”

“Well I never asked for this!”

“And I never asked for you.”

Elain recoiled like he’d slapped her and a pregnant silence filled the room. She could only stare at him and her chest suddenly ached. 

He’d never taken such a tone with her. Then again, she’d barely allowed him to converse with her. 

Elain worked her jaw, the thundering of her heart pounding in her ears and all her senses couldn’t help but focus only on Lucien. The scent of him. The way his gaze bore into her, his mechanical eye clicking as they faced each other. 

She could resist him all she wanted, but Elain had always known that whatever her fate was, it would always find her and Lucien Vanserra had been her fate since the Cauldron spat her out to start this new life.

They orbited around each other enough that Elain knew no matter what she said or did, she knew exactly who would haunt her thoughts the moment she lay in her bed. She could ignore him all she wanted but thoughts of her mate would consume her every moment. 

“For someone that doesn’t want me, you certainly don’t act like it.” she breathed and she had never seen the expression of disdain on his face aimed towards her as he scoffed. 

“For the record my attempts to connect with you is what trying looks like. It is you who does not want me.” he retorted. “I have done nothing but give you space as I expressed interest in getting to know you at your own pace time and time again. It is you who has never taken a moment to even see if whatever this is between us is worth exploring. And now I am sick of waiting.” He took a step towards her, anger radiating off every inch of him. “So answer me.”

“Do not demand things from me when it could –.”

“Answer the question and free me from this torment.” 

“Free you?” she bristled and took a step towards him. “You think it’s torment for you? You think I want you to feel this way? Do you think I want to feel this way?” 

“And what way is that, Elain?” he hissed and the sound of her name from his lips nearly made her shudder. 

“You think I want to be consumed by you? Sensing your every move?” she breathed. “You think I want to think about your arms holding me at one of the most traumatizing moments of my life? You think I want to think about how the sound of your heartbeat has been the only way I can allow myself to sleep? You think I want to think about how overwhelmed I become with your scent that if I don’t remove myself from the room immediately, I’ll do something reckless that I know I’ll regret?”

“Oh? And what reckless action is that?” he sneered. “If it’s a stab to my throat, you’d only be putting me out of my misery.” 

“Do not pretend that severing this bond will change anything about the way your presence clouds my judgment and jumbles my every thought.” she snapped. “Do you think there is a single corner of this land you could go to that wouldn’t feel like you’re taking my very breath with you? Do you think distance would free me from the torment that being around you is?” Elain closed the distance between them and jabbed her finger into his chest. “You – you – you are the curse of my fae existence and despite all my resistance – you – you –” She took a shaky breath as she stared at him, the confession she’d been so desperate to keep secret slipping from her lips, “Are the object of all my deepest longings.” 

Her lips trembled as she watched his hands slacked at his sides, his expression falling into surprise but Elain couldn’t bring herself to say anything else. 

How could she make him understand? 

Love was something Elain had always craved. The courtship. The romance. The yearning.

If the circumstances had been different – if she had met Lucien before Graysen – the idea of a soulmate was exactly what she wanted. Feyre had explained it to her so well and mates was something a hopeless romantic like her would’ve waited for. Would’ve craved. Someone who was her equal. Someone who saw her and loved her, flaws and all.

Instead, Elain had been a human girl who had fallen in love with a human man who threw her to the side the moment she no longer fit the mold he needed her to. She held on to their short-lived romance, to that engagement as a way to keep the last shred of her humanity in any way that she could. She could hide her ears and fight against her visions. She could resist this bond as long as she could. 

But her fingers were bloodied and bruised from how hard she was holding on to something that wasn’t meant for her. She had been trying to shove the door closed on Lucien for years and the door refused to shut. Whenever Elain tried to approach him and see if there was something there, it scared her. It terrified her to feel the way the thread at her ribcage tugged her towards him. To know that everything she’d had before was a waste. 

And now she had confessed just how much he affected her and her cheeks flushed at the shell-shocked silence between them. She had stunned him into silence and had just opened her mouth to spew more at him when a feral look overtook his face and Lucien leaned closer to her as if he couldn’t resist being in her space.

“You think you don't haunt my every waking moment?” he growled and Elain’s brows narrowed, her expression hardening at his tone. “Do you think I have known peace since I've met you? If I am the curse of your existence, you are the catalyst that blew up my life and yet— I can do nothing but yearn for you.” Elain felt her chest rise and fall rapidly as he seemed to breathe her in, barely any space between them. She watched as he worked his jaw, glancing down at her lips then meeting her gaze again before saying, “If I am the object of your longings, know that you have infiltrated my every breath – my every thought and I have never been so thoroughly intoxicated by anyone the way I have been by you. And I can do nothing but let myself drown by it.”

A heart beat of silence passed. Then another.

And Elain felt hot and cold at the same time as a heated silence enveloped them and she couldn’t help but stare at him, taking in his features so up close, even as anger stood between them. She licked her lips as she stared at him and watched as his eyes flashed, the flush spreading to her neck. 

Was there a point to her resistance then? He clearly had no qualms the way she did but –

But Elain was sick of thinking and overthinking. She was sick of it all.

How dare he ask her that question then proceed to confess such feelings to her? 

Lucien’s lip curled, despite the stain of red on his cheeks. “Is there something else you’d like to spew –”

“Shut up.” she snapped and before she could stop herself, Elain yanked him by his tunic and pulled him down to press her lips to his. 

The very air between them came to a halt and it was like the world had tilted on its axis. 

Their kiss was an eruption of fireworks – a dam that was now flooding and the very blood in her veins was singing. Lucien seemed to hesitate for a breath then his hands immediately wrapped around Elain’s waist and she allowed an arm to slide around his neck, pulling him even closer as the kiss deepened. 

And it came to her with alarming clarity exactly how foolish she had been the last few years.

She had been holding on to the idea of what Graysen had given her when kissing him was nothing compared to Lucien’s lips on her now. 

He was the light – he was the sun and Elain felt her body glow as she sank quickly into his flames as every inch of her craved more, more, more. 

His kisses were just as hungry as hers, soft noises slipping from her before she could stop them and her embarrassment was only soothed by Lucien’s matching groans. Before either of them could stop, Lucien had Elain pressed against him as he lifted her and turned swiftly to seat her on his dining table and she let him. She let him stand between her legs, her dress riding up as he leaned even closer, every inch of their bodies touching as his mouth caressed her lips in kisses, nipping, and biting in a way that told her he wanted to imprint his lips on hers and gods, did Elain want him to.

Elain was nearly clawing at his back with how tightly she was gripping him as he stole her breath away and she wondered if she had ever actually experienced passion before this moment. 

“Stop – thinking –” he demanded between kisses, his hand sliding to the back of her neck and squeezing gently.

“I’m not –” 

“Don’t you –” 

“Lucien –” 

His lips mapped out a path from her jaw down her neck with a swiftness that made Elain’s breath stutter and she wanted more – more that he provided her with when his lips found hers again in a searing kiss that had her seeing stars.

She felt that tug of fate between them. She felt that magic. 

Elain’s hands traced his muscled back, tugging on strands of his hair as he stole more and more kisses. She didn’t know what to do with herself but let him – she let him take what she’d been so reluctant to give and Elain – gods, she felt and wanted and needed – 

A crash startled them both to a halt and they turned as one to find the source of the noise – a vase lay shattered on the floor. 

Elain blinked at the sight of the familiar flowers that had scattered. Those were from her garden.

And it was like a bucket of cold water had poured over her when she glanced back at Lucien, both of them breathing hard. 

She could only watch him and think about the feeling of his lips on hers, the way his tongue had tasted hers, and the way his hand was touching her skin.

She could only think about her flowers in his home and her expression shuddered as her heart began thumping so loudly. She had been so angry with him and yet she’d been the one to grab him and – embarrassment suddenly coursed through her and she fought to keep her expression from falling.

As always, he seemed to sense the change in her emotions and his expression shifted as he slowly released her and carefully assisted her to slide off the table without looking at her. Her pulse fluttered nervously as she watched him back away a step, taking a deep breath and Elain quickly straightened herself, running a hand through her hair. She licked her lips, feeling the ghost of him. 

“Well.” 

Lucien stole a glance at her and she watched as he shook his head and turned away from her, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m sorry.” he said tightly and Elain’s brows furrowed.

“For what?” 

Without looking at her, he gestured around helplessly. “You may have initiated it but I allowed it and it’s in exact contradiction to the question I wanted an answer for.” he muttered. “I am a gentleman but I fear that whatever shred of sanity I am holding on to is hanging by a thread around you.” 

Elain bit the inside of her cheek, observing the way he was holding himself. She was sure he felt the way their bond was taut at their proximity, in the aftermath of their kiss.

A kiss she would surely be thinking about more later.

“I’d think what just happened would answer your question.” she finally allowed herself to say and Lucien half turned towards her.

“You say that but how do I know you won’t go back to avoiding me?” he asked. “How do I know it meant anything more than a moment of curiosity for you?” Lucien turned away from her again, tension lining his back. “Anger brought you here. Anger I’m not sure I even understand. I only ask that you don’t toy with me. Please.”

The embarrassment that had washed over her earlier was nothing compared to how she felt now. How it felt to feel his own embarrassment and discomfort sit in the air between them. 

Had she really been that cruel? Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t taken that much time to consider what all of this had done to him?

She frowned. Elain wouldn’t deny it had crossed her mind but Lucien had always done a decent job of keeping his emotions in check around her that she didn’t…feel the need to dig deeper. She was stuck in her head, worrying about herself enough that she didn’t try to venture outside of her own struggles. 

She’d been too busy pretending she was okay. 

Shame coiled in her chest and she felt her shoulders droop. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad about yourself.” Lucien said quietly, his back still to her. “I just…can’t keep doing this. This limbo will drive me more crazy than severing a bond ever could. Especially now…now that I know what you taste like.”

Elain’s hands tightened in the folds of her dress and she suddenly felt the urge to cry. Gods, she really had been thoughtless in coming here. She had been angry that he wanted to sever a tie that she herself hadn’t tried to explore further. Out of fear. Out of cowardness. Out of sheer stubbornness. 

Did she just assume he’d lie in wait for her? Who was she to drag someone along in such a way? She hadn’t asked for this but neither had he and Lucien had been more patient with her than most would be. 

He knew how she felt. He could probably sense more about her mental state than anyone else could and maybe that was what terrified her so much. 

But it certainly didn’t excuse her choices.

A heart beat of silence passed then Elain swallowed and finally whispered, “You’re right.” She took a breath then added, “I’m sorry.” 

Lucien seemed to stiffen and she watched as he clenched his hands at his sides then unclenched them. “Is that your answer then?” he asked quietly.

Her heart dropped. “No!”

Lucien turned around to face her with furrowed brows. “Then what are we doing, Elain?”

She licked her lips again and curled a strand of hair behind her ear. “I – I don’t know.” she answered and knew she couldn’t be anything but honest with him as he watched her, his gaze burning through her.

“Then tell me why you came here. Tell me why my letter made you angry.”

She pursed her lips and her throat bobbed. Again, she forced herself to be honest. 

“Despite your belief that I only avoid you – which I did for a while, I don’t deny that –” Elain began slowly. “I had been slowly working my way up to reaching out to you for a few weeks. I was – am hesitant about it because of the time that has passed between us.” She glanced at him and her cheeks flushed further at his gaze. “Your letter came and caught me by surprise.” 

“Did you think I would wait around forever?” he asked softly and though his tone wasn’t accusatory, Elain felt the shame sit heavily on her chest. 

Her fingers tightened again in the folds of her dress. “No.” she answered. “You have no obligation to do so.”

“No, I don’t.” he answered carefully and Elain tried not to let herself deflate at the turn the conversation had taken. 

“I – I understand.” 

“Do you?” he said with a strained laugh. “Because I don’t.” 

She bit her lips and flushed deeply when he squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath. “Now you understand how I feel.” she whispered. “How my brain behaves when it comes to you. I am lost and confused and embarrassed and I – I –” Elain looked away from him, her hand on her throat as she fought the onslaught of emotions.  “I am overwhelmed.”

“Why?” Lucien asked gently. 

“Because you’re supposed to be my soulmate but to me, love is a choice and I didn’t choose this.” she confessed and Lucien blinked then blinked again. 

“I understand why it doesn’t feel like a choice.” he began then tilted his head observing her. “But what we do with the mating bond is a choice. We choose to accept it. We choose to adjust it. We choose to – to sever it. We can choose to make it whatever we want.”

It was Elain’s turn to blink as Lucien continued with a small, albeit sad smile. “It only requires a conversation.”

Elain suddenly felt the urge to vomit right all over his lush carpet. “Fate doesn’t feel like a choice.” she whispered and the beating of her heart seemed to increase as his gaze softened on her. 

“I’ve always found that fate is what you make of it and that is always the right choice.” he replied.

A sense of unexpected relief seemed to wash over her at the understanding that now sat between them. She hadn’t known what to expect when she made her way over to him. Her irrational anger had fueled her steps and now…now Elain felt relieved. Calmer, albeit still a tad embarrassed.

But she had needed this. They had needed this. 

They observed each other in the silence and Elain let herself see him for who he was. She let herself take in his handsome face and broad shoulders – she allowed herself to catalog every inch of him. She should’ve done it sooner.

“So…” she began softly. “Where do we go from here?” 

The corner of Lucien’s mouth lifted slightly. “That depends. I still need a clear answer to my letter.”

Roses bloomed on her cheeks as she said, “Is it still not obvious at this point?”

“A simple yes or no will do, Elain.”

Elain’s eyes narrowed slightly at Lucien and though his tone was teasing, his gaze was not. 

So she cleared her throat before primly answering, “My answer to your letter is no. I do not wish to do that.”

A pleasant tension filled the space between them as they stood a few feet apart as though they hadn’t been drawn to each other from the moment they’d met those years ago. As though they hadn’t just had their hands all over each other. As though their lips hadn’t only just tasted each other and were already tingling, craving more. 

“And…does that mean you wish to spend time actually getting to know each other?” he asked carefully.

Elain’s throat bobbed. Maybe it was time they finally explored what the Mother had given them. Maybe it was time she stopped being so stupidly afraid.

“Yes.” 

Lucien slowly nodded. “Good.” 

“Great.”

“Then you owe me a date.” 

Elain blinked rapidly. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me.” Lucien said and at her expression, his lips twitched – and it was like all the anger and discomfort that had been between them earlier had simply washed away. “You owe me a date.”

“I do believe I am a lady and ladies are meant to be courted.” she said with amusement. “Unless fae customs are different and I somehow missed the memo.”

“Oh no, my lady – that is the typical structure.” he said and the smile he gave her was the most fae-like expression she’d ever seen. “However, you missed the memo where I have attempted to court you in the past and you shut me down at every turn.”

Elain made a noise of protest but Lucien held up a hand. “Please Elain, I need you to keep it together. There is no need to rush with a proposal at this time.” 

Her expression flattened but her mate only smirked at her. “Feyre did warn me that you have an obnoxious streak but I didn’t think I’d see it so quickly.”

Lucien snorted. “Bold of your sister to say that considering who her mate is.” he said and Elain’s lips couldn’t help but twitch. “Regardless, I do expect you to woo me properly.”

“Do you, now?” she asked with a raised brow and Lucien’s response was a small smirk.

“But of course. I look forward to seeing what you can come up with.” 

Elain could only shake her head in disbelief and they stood in that comfortable silence for a moment before Lucien gestured with a hand to the living room.

“Would you like to stay for a drink?” he asked quietly and though Elain did wish to stay, she knew she needed to process what had just happened between them.

So she shook her head with a small smile. “Don’t you know? I apparently have a date to plan.”

And as she sat at her desk later that evening, she thought about how she had left his home feeling lighter than she had in a long while. She thought about the smile he had given her as they said goodbye. She thought about how he had walked her to his door and felt his eyes on her the entire way home. 

It only seemed right that what started with a letter should continue with one and so, Elain sent him one of her own that same night. 

My lord,

I would like to know if you would humble me with your presence and accept my invitation to dinner this Thursday at 6pm at Servanda’s Resturant. Your charm and chivalry have caught my attention and it would be an honor to spend the evening with you. 

Please let me know your response at your earliest convenience. 

Yours truly, Elain Archeron

His response came an hour later and Elain nearly walked over to his home to truly throttle him.

My lady,

Thank you for noticing my charm. I have no doubt that you are already enamored by me.

As for your request, I will think about my availability. Please note my preferences for sunflowers to roses and plan accordingly. 

Yours truly,

Lucien Vanserra

Elain scoffed at his audacity then chuckled softly; it wasn’t like she didn’t deserve his teasing. 

Noticing a small arrow on the bottom of the letter, she quickly turned it over to find an additional message and for the first time in a long time, excitement bloomed in her chest.

PS. I’d be delighted. Thursday night it is.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fanfics #pro elucien #gfics #fic: heading straight to you #I was listening to Adele's Sweetest Devotion and well :) #happy monday :)

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.

#dpxdc #pondhead blurbs #Gotham is very lanky and tall and had dozens of necklaces around their neck #the necklaces are just cords filled with lost things the citizens have lost over the years #like bits of glass or wedding rings or hag stones made from a destroyed gargoyle #actually I have a weird picture of Gotham in my head I might draw it #it’s giving Bloodborne to me but idgaf #basically Danny meets Gotham and is trying to convince them to go with him for medical help because what the fuck #those curses are the equivalent of leaving hundreds of leeches stuck to your body for ten years #Danny is BEGGING Gotham to come with him #there’s potential for angst but if you want crack then Danny probably replaces Gotham #I think there’s already a similar fic where he becomes the new spirit of Gotham but I haven’t read all of that #anyways the Batfam are like #invasive animals that are actually helping the ecosystem recover from an even WORSE invasive species #but they aren’t supernatural heroes and they don’t understand that the issue is deeper #I’m calling this the Curse of Hope because Danny is offering hope to Gotham #but Gotham is just so tired and sick and hurt that they don’t want to risk it #they think Danny is another curse come to plague them #should he just straight up adopt the city at this point? #idk it probably depends on how it’s written #sad course is to let Gotham die. happy ending is where they are treated and returned #crack ending probably has Danny adopting the city and introducing them to his own city spirit Amity Park #oh shit is that a new ship #guys please I can’t keep doing this #Gotham City x Amity Park #how the fuck do you come up with a name for that #Burger Joints? #Wet Pavement? #bro idk I’m putting this down before I make something I might regret #low key wanna write this but like. I have so much to do

[ipleadbritney]

oscar knowing lando for more than 4 minutes straight

I posted this to TikTok a long time ago, but my target community really was Tumblr. All of your landoscar discourse can just be so endearing and so thoughtful, I simply had to. Special thanks to @otterpiastri for the research on Oscar's Twitter likes (our man was one of 2 likes on posts about Lando, come on).

This was also an exercise for me, since I was trying to emulate bits of this dynamic on my fic. At a certain point, writing wasn't enough. I needed visual proof of it, so. Yeah!

#landoscar #landoscar dynamic #oscar piastri you continue to wow me #where's that one fic q&a #got love-struck went straight to my head #have to do an updated version of this soon #the dynamic has CHANGED SO MUCH

[sluckythewizard]

Keep calm, and drink soda

[CW for blood and gore and vomit] takes place a day or two after emizel was sired. just two boys adjusting to a shift in their daily norms. would YOU drink your homies blood? still not used to writing fanfic so any and all advice IS appreciated. i hope u enjoy.

There were very few things that Soda enjoyed more than well, drinking soda. It was a hobby, an interest, a comfort. And by extension there were very few errands that Soda would look forward to more than the occasional soda run.

The gas station closest to the Demons hideout had stopped selling Faygo entirely about a month or two ago, and it was near impossible to find it anywhere else. The closest place was now this janky little Shell gas station, lovingly titled the Shady Shell, that thankfully sold more flavors than any of the other ones ever did.

It made the hour and a half walk here entirely worth it. Even if this side of town made his skin crawl. Normally he would ask someone to accompany him on this daring little quest, but everyone at the hide out tonight just seemed too tired, too preoccupied, too uninterested.

He knew not everyone really got the soda thing, but they were accepting of it for the most part. Soda is something that, clearly, Soda really loves, but he knew not everyone else was into it.

Which was fine, of course. They didn't need to get it. But, still, sometimes Soda found himself wondering how much of it was a bit, and how much was him.

Emizel gets it perfectly though. He would've been the first person Soda would ask to go on this soda run with him, but, well. He's been preoccupied too, with the whole vampire thing.

It's been a bit more than a day since Soda had last seen his close comrade. For a friend that he saw just about everyday, going without him this long left him feeling a little emptier.

That was fine, though. Emizel had shit he was working out, he had things he needed to do. It's not like he could go out in the day anymore, so of course Soda wouldn't be seeing him at all the usual times.

It was a lot of weird and heavy magical stuff, it made Soda think about those superhero shows. Where the hero needs to keep his identity hidden from everyone. Family especially. He knows how much of a piece of shit Emizels dad is, so he hoped that Emizels home life wasn't stirred up all stupid-like over this.

He hasn't told anyone else, about what happened that night. For the last 2 days, Soda would spend time with close friends and not let them know a thing about what happened to Emizel so, so recently. Why he's so suddenly absent, so distant, so.. off…

'Maybe his dad's just giving him a hard time', he would say, hoping to smother their questions. The less questions they ask, the better. At least until this vampire stuff gets figured out a bit more. Should Emizel wear a disguise when he goes out at night now? Just like a superhero? What kind of hero outfit would Emizel have anyways? Soda figured it would be something really cool.

If anyone could figure out a way to balance all this vampire stuff, and all the leaderly responsibilities that come with being the biggest dog in the Demons, it was Emizel for sure. That guy is so seriously cool.

He was sure this rough patch would even out, and they would weather the next rough patch together no problem. There was really nothing to worry about! All Soda has to do is stay positive, and well, drink soda.

As Soda walks quietly down the crumbling sidewalks of this dreary hive of strip malls and shops, he goes to pull his backpack around to his chest, fumbling with the zipper in the dark. Which was a little annoying, considering the tab of his zipper had fallen off forever ago. He really needed to get around to fixing this damn thing. Maybe another ziptie and a soda tab will do the trick.

Humid air hangs heavy in the night, the sidewalks still somewhat warm after a hotter day. The diesel-soaked air provided enough warmth on its own that Soda had considered taking his jacket off a few times, only for the occasional, annoyingly sharp and chilly breeze to brush by, reminding him to keep the thing on.

Tripping only once and only slightly on an uneven sidewalk, Soda manages to pull a bottle of Faygo from his backpack, a smile glowing on his face. Another short fight with the zipper seals up the bag, and he slings it over his shoulder again.

His flavor of choice tonight was actually the Red Pop, the tried and true, the absolute classic, one of the best Faygo flavors for sure.

But, this kind wasn't actually his favorite. Normally he would stock up on the cotton candy ones, but something about the last few days had him craving the red stuff.

Securing his backpack all the way, he goes to crack open the bottle. Just the clack and the hisssss of the fizzy drink were enough to lift his mood.

Not that his mood needed lifting or anything. Of course. Sure he missed his friend and sure he found himself wondering what he’s doing and where he is and if he's okay. Maybe sometimes he found himself wishing they talked about funeral plans more.

Emizel talked up all sorts of crazy funeral ideas for himself, usually involving the use of his dead body as an inconvenience for others. Outlandish and hilarious ideas, like filling it with explosives and tossing it into a busy road. But what would he want seriously? What would Soda ever do if he just stopped showing up one day?

He had to swallow down all these unnecessary anxieties, so he took a swig of his soda. Sweet, bubbly, comforting. He felt better already! Just stay positive, and drink soda..

It was a lovely night out, and he didn't come all this way planning on letting it go to waste. There was a place he was heading towards, a particular alleyway in this particular place that led off to a particularly tall concrete ledge.

 It was a run-down little space, littered with trash and shitty trees and those bushes with just too many goddamn ants in them. But the view was fairly nice, overlooking a massive deformed intersection. A particularly stupid one, at that; about 3 times a week you could witness a gnarly crash at this spot. Soda always heard people saying that LA folks can't drive, but he was just starting to figure that maybe no one can drive.

That was the place he really wanted to go to enjoy this soda, and he wasn't too far off from it. Just a few more blocks, and he would be there.

Oh wait, didn't he still have a bag of chips in this backpack somewhere? Hell yeah, he couldn't wait to sit down and relax with a good soda, a good snack, and a good view of the night.

Living as a Demon had its fair share of stresses. He felt lucky to have this life, but he knew well that it could be better. That not everyone has to worry about survival the way they do. That not everyone gets injured on the regular and not everyone has to worry about being sick and never getting better.

Living is hard. But it's finding the small moments of joy that make it all worth it. Dying would be scarier anyway. He didn't want to die, and he felt glad to feel so confident in that nowadays.

The sudden   THUNK  of something slamming into the ground just a block away from him, jolts him out of his thoughts, all his gears screeching to a halt as he freezes in place. What the fuck was that?

It looked like a person, laying flat on the ground with only their head and shoulders peeking out of the alleyway ahead. Fuck. He hated this side of town..

Anxiety churns in his stomach as he debates just turning around, but the way the victim reaches an arm out, attempting to crawl away; it made his heart ache aswell. he's no goddamn fighter, but he couldn't just leave someone like th-

The body is suddenly yanked back into the alley, snatched at a startling speed. It didn't feel exactly real, how could something vanish so fast? It reminded Soda of something from a horror movie, or whatever. What the fuck was that??

His foot takes a step forward, before the rest of his body notices its rebellion and locks down again. Was he seriously going to investigate that? He could just walk away and take another alley. But that was the one he was supposed to turn down! All the other alleys are either walled off or gated off and he wasn't about to go climbing over a damn wire gate. His soda would get too shaken up! Fuck!

Another foot goes in for another step forward. He's gotta get the fuck out of here. He could hear more commotion in the alleyway, a scuffle, a skirmish. He could hear someone cursing through a choked breath. A loud and nauseating crack echoes out from the alley, and yet, Soda takes another step forward.

This was stupid, he shouldn't be getting tangled up in someone else's business. What if something happened to all this soda?

Thankfully, it was that thought that actually got him to pause, and take in a deep breath. It wasn't worth it, maybe he should head straight home.

Atleast, that was the thought his heart and mind were about to agree on, until a particularly familiar grroowwwwlll bleeds out from the alley.

Emizel?

All reason immediately evaporates as Soda makes that connection in his head, stepping right up to the corner of the brick walls, and peering around to investigate.

There was a body on the floor, face down in a puddle of red, head split open in a way that reminded Soda of a smashed watermelon.

But standing over that body, was the familiar, blackened coat, and short blonde hair, of Sodas closest comrade, Emizel.

Despite the carnage on the floor, Soda couldn't help the smile that lights up his face. That was Emizel! That was his boy!

But before he could get over just how happy he felt to see his best friend, something else caught his eye. Movement, behind the dumpster closest to the vampire boy. A person, rising out from the shadows with a glinting baseball bat clutched fiercely in their hands.

"Oh fuck, look out!" Soda speaks up, and Emizels gaze immediately clicks over to him, silencing Soda with just that startlingly red stare.

He had forgotten just how uneasy those red eyes made him..

The attacker, silent and professional, rushes up behind Emizel and CRACKS the metal bat downwards onto his blonde head, the sound ringing out like a  gun shot  in that dark little alleyway.

Soda cringes from just the sound of the impact, but was amazed to find that the bat had warped under the force of it!

The attacker hardly had a chance to process his mangled weapon before Emizel whips around to retaliate.

It looked like he had just swung his hand at his opponent, so the way a shower of red spills outward from the slash, catches Soda completely off guard. The monster boy had cleaved an excruciatingly massive gash up from the attackers right hip, to his left shoulder, the slice spewing with scarlet.

 It wasn't until Emizel had pulled back his arm, that Soda could process the way it had darkened with more than just blood, distorted into an odd, spear-like shape.

The victim hardly had a chance to yelp before that blade swoops up into his chest at the speed of a snapping bear trap, plunging through meat and bone with disturbing ease, and forcing blood and viscera to erupt outwards. The red patters down onto the concrete behind, the sound similar to rain...

With another low, inhuman snarl, Emizel brings the twitching, dying body closer, until that signature squish of teeth sinking into fresh meat bleeds outward into the space.

What a disgusting sound, Sodas first instinct was to simply avert his eyes, but as the sound persists, he resolves that he has to do something.

He finally steps out into the alley, and speaks.

"Hey ma-"

He could hardly get two words out before Emizel suddenly rips its teeth away from its victims throat, tearing out a hefty chunk of jellied meat, and slamming the remaining fodder onto the concrete floor.

It immediately whips around to stare down Soda, red eyes glowing with reflected light, and with hardly a chance to process the moment-

-It's immediately right infront of Soda.

A gasp lurches from Soda's lungs as he almost stumbles back in shock. How was Emizel so fucking fast?

Other than that single step back, Soda was frozen in shock, his tongue buzzing with the physical pain of such a startling jolt. 'White boy jumpscare' is something that came to mind, but while usually such a thought would evoke some sort of laugh from Soda, this time it offered no such comfort. Okay maybe it did a little.

Emizels snarling face was only inches away from Sodas. Its eyes were wild and unnatural, teeth menacingly sharp and reddened with so much fucking blood. It was everywhere, coating most of his face, smothering his shirt and his coat, and absolutely choking the air with its thick, metallic stench.

Soda would gag if he felt he was safe to even move. He felt like he was locking eyes with that of a creature, something he would only ever see in his nightmares or in scary movies. But it was real. Those monsters are real. And his best friend is one of those monsters. His bestest friend in the world...

His mind was skewered on that unnatural glare, completely frozen with anxiety. Stalling too hard to come to a proper conclusion, Soda instead falls back onto what Soda does best.

"H-hey man... You want some soda?"

He very gently presses the opened bottle of Faygo into Emizels chest.

The two boys stand there for a moment, locked in a tense, silent pause, before the monster boy finally peels its gaze down to the bottle.

It's quiet, for a few seconds, the gears turning in its head. Until the monster blinks, and its eyes clear, and Emizel processes the sight of the bottle.

"Oh, fuck yeah dude, is that the Candy Apple Faygo? Man, that stuffs my favorite!" Emizel smiles as he goes to accept the bottle, and immediately takes a massive swig.

Soda tries to disregard the way his hands were still shaking. "Uh, n-nah man, its just Red Po-"

The words are bit off as Emizel suddenly retches, a heavy flood of red blood and red Faygo spewing out onto Soda, as the vampire boys body entirely rejects the fizzy drink.

The shock of getting fucking projectile vomited on had snapped Soda out of whatever daze he was just in, and it seemed to snap Emizel out of it too. Soda backs up with a groan, looking down at all the blood and bile and pop on his shirt and coat.

"Ohhh fuck dude, what the hell??" He cringes, not even wanting to try smearing any of it off with his hand.

Emizel was coughing, still holding out the Faygo bottle, but hunched over as his body dared to convulse again.

"Ohhhhhh fuck, ohhooohhh fuuuuucckkk" he grumbles towards the floor "Fuuuck I’m sorry dude, I don't know what fuckin- oohhhgg shit,” He coughs and groans,  offering the bottle back to Soda.

Soda was still staring at his messied coat with a displeased grimace, but looking up to meet Emizels eyes...

There was a guilt on Emizels face that Soda didn't see too often, and it helped wash away that irritation he felt. This sucked, but Emizel was probably going through a lot more. 

“It’s, uhm.. don't, don't worry about it, man..” Soda decides to reassure him, offering a sympathetic smile, and a hand on Emizels shoulder, as his comrade spits out the remaining blood and bile.

"Fuckin hell… I’m uh, I'm sorry about your shirt, man."

"What? Nahh it's okay man, don’t worry about it." Soda shrugs, taking the Faygo bottle back. "I mean, are you okay man? That uh.. looked like a pretty crazy fight."

Emizel was rubbing his eyes, smearing more blood across his face as he seems to be collecting himself. he spares a glance back at the carnage behind him.  

"Ah.. yeah.. I thought I uh.. I thought I saw that one fucker from uh. That one night. Yknow, the one that uh.." He snaps his fingers, as if trying to summon back the memory. "Vampire bitch... Anyway after that I just kind of, uh.."

He seems to space out again as he looks around. It was as if he was just woken up from a deep sleep, like he was certain he had just known what he was doing, but found the dream escaping him. "I guess I just.. went crazy on these guys. I dunno, they're Fangs anyways." he finally shrugs it all off, but Soda still felt unsatisfied by the answer.

"Oh.. huh…” is the only response he manages to scrounge together. Sure they were Fangs, but did they really deserve.. all that? It just seemed a bit brutal, even by Emizels standards.

He found his eyes wandering over to the split-open head. It was mostly red and bloody, but even in the dark, he could still make out some of the finer details of the gray jelly seeping from the gash. A human brain. He wondered if his own brain looked the same on the inside..

“So what are you doing out here, man?” Emizels question helps Soda pull his eyes away from the gore, instead looking over to his bloodied comrade.

Emizel looked messy and even exhausted, but his drowsy gaze was focused on Soda with a worried expression. 

“Oh, uh, yknow, just a soda run. Decided I would stock up on some Faygo from the Shady Shell.” Soda shrugs, his eyes flickering down to the opened Faygo in his hand. The top was covered in regurgitated blood. unnaturally blackened blood…

“Are you.. okay, by the way? Other than the whole..” Soda gestures vaguely at the gruesome crime scene. “Are you hurt?”

The question has Emizel pausing to consider. He straightens his back and stretches his arms, as if trying to detect any pain from any possible injury. Nothing seemed to be bothering him though, and after a second, he decides to shrug.

“Nah, I'm all good.”

“Oh.. That's good, I uh…” Soda found himself looking over Emizel aswell, searching for any wounds the monster boy might be simply disregarding, as he often does.

There was a fairly gnarly gash on his shin..

“Hey uh, I was actually gonna go hang out by the ledge down that way. Yknow, the one with the funny intersection.” Soda says, gesturing off towards where he intended to go. “Wanna come with?”

Emizel looks back that way, before turning back to Soda with a big smile on his face. 

“Oh hell yeah I do! I love the funny intersection!” he starts to walk down the alley, about to step over the body of the broken skull, when Soda speaks up.

“Uh, hey, shouldn't we uh.. Do something about the.. uh..” He waves a hand over towards the bodies, trying not to look directly at them. 

Emizel spares the corpses an inconvenienced glance, and a sigh, but ultimately shrugs them off. “Ehhh I'll just dump 'em in a dumpster again.. That's what I've been doing anyway.”

“And you're not worried about, like, anyone finding them?”

Soda anxiously watches on as Emizel paces around the body with the torn-out throat, licking the blood from his own mouth. Was his tongue always that long and pointed? That's neat, and normally Soda would point it out, but he was a bit.. preoccupied right now 

“Nahh not really. I haven't had anyone bother me at least.. Anyone been bothering you?” Emizels eyes finally flick back over to Soda. 

“Nah, I'd say things are actually more lax than usual. Anything that would end up being trouble’s been pretty much crushe- er, killed- destr- stamped out, by uh, by you.” Sods was cringing with every attempt to find a word that didn’t make his stomach turn, but Emizel didn’t seem to notice or mind.

Emizels eyes were currently a bit more focused on the body laying before him. He had that weird look on his face again… 

“Uhh, yeah, yeah that's good that uh, no troubles coming back to you guys…”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two as Emizel stares at this corpse, and Soda was about to open his mouth to fill the silence, but Emizel speaks up instead.

“Hey uh, why don’t you go ahead of me? I’ll uh, I'll meet you at the place.” He suggests, pointing vaguely off down the alley, but not removing his eyes from the kill. 

Soda certainly hesitates, his eyes narrowing before he even forms a thought. He opens his mouth to object, but then his eyes flicker back towards the body.

“Are you gonna eat this one too?”

The question leaves Sodas mouth as soon as it comes to mind.

Emizel pauses, and considers, before giving a shrug. “I don't see why not. Perfectly good blood.” He reaches down to grab his kill by the shirt, the one with the split open head. As the corpse rises from the concrete, gray matter drips and sloughs from the crack in its skull. Once again, Soda felt the need to look away, and yet his stupid eyes remained fixated on the horrendous sight. Emizel looks over the spilling brain of his meal, licking his lips curiously. “Dude, what do you think would happen if I ate his brain?” Emizel asks, looking back over to Soda with a wild, bloodied smile. Something about that look made Soda shiver, but.. Not really in a bad way… “Uh, I.. Dunno…. Eating a persons brain is how you get like, mad cow disease right? But you might also be immune to disease.. Are you immune to disease?” “Uhhh, I don't know yet actually. I'm still figuring out how much of this is like video games,” Emizel says, rubbing the back of his head as he idly sways the body of his kill around, watching the blood and gore drip and drop from its broken head. “Eh, I'll chance it later.” Without another word or thought, Emizel goes to sink his teeth into the shoulder of his kill, a pleased growl radiating from him as the blood gushes around the bite. More fresh blood upon less fresh blood upon old blood upon older blood. Just so much fucking blood. Soda thought he was used to seeing blood, but this… this was just egregious. Was he really starting to get used to this? It’s just blood after all, and it’s not from his comrades, so it's… fine… He finally manages to pull his eyes away from the gruesome sight of Emizel feeding, but his eyes instead wander down to the blood on his own shirt. Emizels blood was strange, darker than usual, and carrying a different scent. Something about the smell of his blood was more savory, more appealing than the standard metallic miasm. His shirt was smothered in it, his jacket was coated in it, and his opened bottle of Faygo was also splattered with the deep red ichor. Ink swirls within the bottle of red fizzy, spreading out into all sorts of odd patterns. It was a lot of blood. He was certain a lot of it came from however many people Emizels been feeding on. With how much hes been terrorizing the Fangs in just the last few days, and with how nonchalantly he feasts on his kills, who knows how much blood hes actually ingested… Soda swirls the bottle, watching the blood inside thin out into strands, dancing within the bubbly soda as they gradually dissipate, fully assimilating into the drink. A bad idea chews at the back of his head… The sound of ripping flesh once again knocks at Sodas head. He doesn’t look up this time, but he knew Emizel was just playing with his food again..  Did blood taste good to a vampire? Did some blood taste better than others? What did Sodas blood taste like? What did Emizels blood taste like? There's a visceral snap of something among the chewing and ripping, very clearly a bone or a joint snapping out of place. It made Soda shiver a little. When did his heart start pounding? There's an animal standing only 8 feet away from him, feeding on its kill. That animal is a person, and so is its kill. He wanted to know what vampire blood tasted like, but he already knew what human blood tasted like. It hung so densely in the air, he could feel it forming a vile film over his tongue. The blood of a person just like him. Eaten by an animal that eats people.  All this stress was no good. This bile rising to his throat was no good. This creeping anxiety was no good. He's friends with an animal that eats people. Would it eat him? This weird feeling was no good. Maybe it will never eat him. But it needs to eat people. This worry was no good. He needed to wash this awful taste from his mouth, replace it with something sweeter. He needed to keep his head clear enough to be there for Emizel when he needed to be. He needed to hold a light to these shadows. And he needed to stay positive, and drink soda. He takes a swig of the open Faygo bottle.

#NO MAIN TAGS WE DIE LIKE ROADKILL #WOW ISNT IT WEIRD THAT YOUR BESTEST FRIEND IN THE WHOOOLE WORLD EATS PEOPLE NOW #ISNT IT WEIRD THAT YOU KIND OF WISH YOU WOULD BE EATEN. EXCEPT NOT RLY BC U WOULD DIE. MAYBE HE COULD HAVE A NIBBLE #i might come back to ramble in the tags more later. STAY TUNED!!! #OKAY IM BACK TO RAMBLE. FIZZFAGS SEAL O APPROVAL IN THE TAGS U MEAN THE WWWOORRLLD TO MEEEE #THIS IS ALL YOUR FFAAAUULTT UR THE ONLY REASON THESE LOSERS ARE ROTATING IN MY BRAIN SO SO FAST #I DO INTEND TO WRITE MORE!! AND I DO INTEND TO LET IT GET WEIRDER #Iwanna make a lil chapter two w them hanging out at the funny intersection while soda maybe tries to patch emizel up. #wouldnt it be fucked up if u saw ur best friend get bled out n then sired right infront of u #and wouldnt it be fucked up if ina vampiric daze he almost sinks his crazy shark teeth into your throat #and wouldnt it be fucked up if you kinda wish he did. like not in a weird way or anything its not weird its not weird at all #RAAHH IM SO HAPPY THAT PPL LIKE MY WRITING STYLE N MY CHARACTERIZATIONS ASWELL IT MEANS SO MUCH TO MMEEEE #NICE WORDS GIVE ME SO MMUCH POOWWEERRRRR RAAGHGHHH!!!thank you guys for being so niceys to me #ive also been thinkin abt writing Post Suckening fics. EXCITED FOR SEASON TWO. in the meantime what if theo had to put up w shenanigens #one shenanigen for example being emizel going feral and attacking a comrade. #then theo needs to stake him n pull him aside n set him straight or something. set him gay. whatever. #ive also had an idea in my head. BC GABRIEL IS TOTALLY INSIDE OF EMIZELS BRAIN NOW #could u imagine doing acid or shrooms w ur homies n then suddenly ur nemesis is showing up in ur fractal hallucinations #anyway i think thats all da ramble i got in me. thanku for enjoying my writing thank yooouuu

[camels-pen]

"I'll do what you can't, you do what I can't" should be Sanji and Usopp's wedding vows. It should be engraved on their rings. It should be repeated back and forth from one to the other until they're old and gray and neither of them can remember who said it first. It's the perfect summary of their relationship and in this essay I will

#one piece #sanuso #sanji #usopp #posting about sanuso late at night? on my fic writing sideblog? its more likely than you think. free pc check #sorry not sorry was writing a fic wip and the thought just shot itself straight through my head #i love that fucking line so much #listen. listen its a metaphor for how they are each terrible at loving themselves and seeing their own value #but the other has absolutely no problem showering them with love and care and affection and and and #also just. they have their own strengths and weaknesses and you cant expect one person to do it all and take pride in what you do well and #dont beat yourself up so much and your greatest critic is yourself and you're not a failure #and you're amazing at what you do and i love you i love you i love you

[iguessigotta]

Eddie gluskin with a pregnant darling maybe

you know what's funny about Eddie Gluskin being one of my faves? i am terrified of pregnancy just headcanons for now - this ended up being more an exploration of the inherent horror of this situation than anything shippy, whoops. also kind of an au where Waylon does not survive his encounter with Eddie 18+ just in case CW: injuries, noncon, hostage, pregnancy, suicide mention cannibalism(?) probably more i missed. (no r*** - it is alluded to tho) i mean it's Eddie. the man is a walking billboard for "dead dove do not eat" ok lmao

being Eddie’s darling wife was a living nightmare

you’d been one of the few employees allowed near Eddie, and he’d developed a….thing…for you. well, not you, really, more the idea of you

and when the Mount Massive asylum fell into chaos, you were one of the unlucky people trapped inside

when Eddie found you he was quick to make his image of you your new reality

whether you wanted it or not

you’d initially fought him at every turn. unfortunately, Eddie had a temper, and was prone to snapping with no warning

you’d learned that lesson the hard way - your forearm was still in a makeshift splint, a dull ache where he’d fractured the bone in a fit of anger. or had he broken it? you weren’t sure. all you knew is it hurt like hell and made it nearly impossible for you to fight back

after that incident, you thought keeping your head down and quietly obeying him was the smart choice. that you’d be safe enough to ride out this mess until someone arrived to help

you had to believe that someone was coming. you told yourself you’d be rescued within the week, that there was no way a facility as large as Mount Massive could go down in flames like this without someone noticing

days turned into weeks, weeks into months (how many had it been? 3? 4?)

every night you sat, ankles bound to your chair at the end of some wobbly, bloodstained table, Eddie at the opposite end, a makeshift dinner spread between the two of you

occasionally there would be some sort of meat among the sawdust-flavored rations - Eddie was always vague when you asked him what kind of meat it was 

you resisted for the first month, but your resolve broke a week into the second, the hunger pains driving you to tears and forcing you to make a choice

so you ate. and you tried not to think about where he got it from

it was like the two of you playing some sick game of house

Eddie kept a close eye on you when he was around, restraining you when he wasn’t

you’d be tied to a chair. strapped down on your back atop some bloodstained hospital mattress. arms bound behind you, tied to a support beam and forced to sit on the cold concrete floor

all of it was miserable

Eddie said it was for your safety, but you knew better. especially after he’d found you with a knife you’d managed to get your hands on. he’d stopped you from trying to slash your own throat, spewing some bullshit about his darling preferring death over a blissful life as the proud mother of his many, many children 

 he wasn’t going to let you leave him in any way

some part of you thought about pleading with Eddie to “think of the baby” and untie you - but that only reminded you that you were, in fact, pregnant

and it was starting to show

whatever mental energy you could spare went to trying (and failing) to block that fact out of your mind

you felt like you were trapped in two horror stories simultaneously - one, enduring whatever Eddie decided to do to you on a daily basis, and two, the unwanted life growing inside you against your will

not to mention the mental anguish of what to do after the…birth. would you even survive that? would you want to? 

should  you try to raise and protect it? or would it be more merciful if you…

it was a horrifying decision to make, one that you flinched away from whenever you found yourself thinking about it

every day you wondered if it would be better to piss him off, have him kill you in a fit of rage. it wouldn't be hard to do, but for some reason the knowledge that you were pregnant stopped you

well, you told yourself, at least you got to skip Eddie’s “operation table”. all the men who came before you weren’t so lucky, if the video on that camera you found was to be believed….

#dead dove do not eat #reader beware #eddie gluskin x reader #yandere eddie gluskin x reader #this is straight up horror reader is having a bad time #in so many ways! #eddie gluskin headcanons #outlast x reader #kinda sorta tempted to write a short fic exploring this absolute nightmare but idk #we'll see idk #no beta we die like men #no kids allowed #sorry if this isn't what you were looking for anon i just had ✨ideas✨ and ✨thoughts✨ in my little head #anyway Eddie Gluskin is horrible and I love him everyone look at my nasty blorbo he's awful <3 #requests #inbox is open and I'm in the mood for horror so #eyes emoji

[caelanglang]

trying to bargain for a happier ending for Akai @itotypes

plsletthembehappy

#LOOK IM DESPARATE IM SO HOOKED AND IM DOOMED BY THE TAGS ALREADY #ITO PLS #on the floor bagging the door bashing my head #you write them so well for the TO DIE !?!? PLS PLS PLS AAAAAAAAAAA #THE DESIGNS ARE SO GOOD TOO PLSSSS #pls spare them ToT #dang it I’m preparing my padded room and straight jacket for this fic #bsd #bsd au #Akai by itotypes

[areyoudoingthis]

upon some reflection I actually really love ofmd's take on stede and parenthood. I love that he's not a great dad. I love that the show said this man was not allowed real freedom to choose and these are the consequences, and that it didn't paint stede as evil or blameless. I love that the idea is "this man probably shouldn't have had children, but he did because it's what was expected of him and he couldn't break away from those expectations sooner, so here's what happened to him and his children." I love that he was more friend than father to his kids, and that ultimately they all agreed that the right choice was for him to walk away from an arrangement that was making them all miserable instead of staying out of obligation and making everyone even more miserable. I love that doug is literally dad shaped and the kids get someone who actively chose to be their dad and who is ultimately gonna help them grow up as far more healthy people than stede if he had stayed and been a shell of his real self as a result. I love that the show acknowledges the shitty circumstances without trying to argue that stede is a blameless victim or making him a monster

parenthood is hard and complicated and a lot of people who have kids shouldn't and every parent fucks up, some more than others, but admitting it is always the best way to go, and trying to find a way forward that makes everyone happy is the only real option that doesn't result in children not talking to their parents as soon as they're old enough to choose

#ofmd #i read the weirdest fic yesterday where stede straight up ignored ed for two weeks to focus on his children and i was left scratching my #head wondering what show this person was watching #i wish the fic had been more clearly tagged cause I'd have skipped it if so #like you do you fic writers owe us nothing etc etc but it read more like someone's parent fantasies than ofmd fic #and that's not my thing #like at all #but it led me to realize that i love this about ofmd too #stede's n1 priority is ed and he's completely extra and unhinged about it and i love him for it

[michelle-jacksons-art-blog]

Hi hello have this somewhat old Jonmartin kids concept ideas while I try not to die

#I have I'm Gonna Fucking Die Disease #symptoms are I've coughed way too much for like almost a week now #my bad #so anyway the drawing #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #tma podcast #the magnus archives #how does one tag these things #so uh I think I made Lyra the older one #one of these names I got straight out of a fanfic but I can't remember each one so when I feel mentally capable I'll look for it #or if you happen to remember a fic that had them have a daughter with either of those names feel free to mention it #anyways they're a happy family #a bit weird bc let's be honest Jon and Martin are really weird #like as normal people go they can be freaks sometimes #but that's fine otherwise they wouldn't be popular on tumblr dot com #two funky colored eyes for the price of one head I'd call that a great deal #I just think it would be interesting to know what happens when two avatars of different fears have baby like do you know how many fears Jon #involves on his own like that's all 14 dude what happens there #he's like aang in the sense that he's thee avatar and also can never recover from this experience #would the kids even be connected to the fears in whatever universe their dads ended up in we just don't know #anyway this is all actually for a story idea I've had since forever but you're not ready for that yet #peace everyone I'll bring trying to sleep

[hood-ex]

Thought my mom might get me a Mikey plushie. Instead, she got me The Last Ronin 😭. Sobbing, crying, throwing up this Christmas 😭.

She was like, "I don't know if you've already read it, but it's a comic all about Michelangelo 😊."

It's all about Michelangelo because all the other brothers are dead, Ma 😭. Hence the name of the comic. He's quite literally the last one standing 😭.

#speaking of the last ronin--i read a last ronin fic the other week that altered my brain chemistry #it made me clutch my head and yell OH MY GOD for like 5 minutes straight lmao #but it's Really good! so if any tmnt fans wanna read it then hmu #no but the way leo reacts in it makes me insaneeee INSAAAANE I TELL YOU #they're in heaven and raph and donnie are like: maybe mikey is okay #and leo's like: or maybe he's being tortured 😤 #ALKDJA LEO CHILL

[ickypuppi3]

🏳️‍🌈?

#why is he so pretty #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #it’s the way he follows steve’s every movement for me #questionable rival moments #‘billy’s straight’ and then this is him #billy got to hawkins and started believing in love at first sight #and steve’s just there #obsessed with fics where steve’s like ‘you were flirting the whole time??’ #and billy’s just like ‘yeah tf did you think was happening??’ #oblivious bastard and traumatised gay who’s head over heels the only dynamic ever #ickyposts

[gilliandersons]

Could you please share some of your favorite Tedbecca fics?

it would be my absolute pleasure:

someday we'll be all that we need - Chapter 1 - gayicedlatte

when did you last let your heart decide? - narcissablaxk

wildflowers - Chapter 1 - gayicedlatte

and the black river of loss - Chapter 1 - kittensittin

Storm Summer - heraldthoughts

haven't met you yet - Chapter 1 - thelassos

shift the tide - notwithhaste

invisible string (tying you to me) - Chapter 1 - Caolait

We made a garden of the love we found - alimello

just keep on keeping your eyes on me (it's just wrong enough to make it feel right) - Chapter 1 - gayicedlatte

every time the sun comes up - peachrock

in the face of a daffodil - Chapter 1 - narcissablaxk

say goodbye like you mean it - Chapter 1 - professortennant

#tedbecca #tedbecca fic #anon i know you said some but i got a little excited #this is straight up from the top of my head there's so many more i'm sweating #have fun and feel welcomed to send your thoughts my way

[employee052]

#ADateWithNarry

hello, my name is jay, though most folks call me soup. i'd like to petition a date with the narrator. big fan of his game! i used to write headcanons for him a lot, and there's still a part of my heart that flutters when i see him on my dash. he and i share a love of stories in common. i'm an english major aspiring to be a writer. i feel like he and i would have a lot to talk about, and i do admire his voice quite a bit. my favorite quality of his is his sense of showmanship. he put a lot of work into his game, and it shows.

(and maybe if i can, i'll just blow him a lil kiss 😘)

<3

AAA tysm for the submission yo! I was going to get my narrator to respond on this post bc submissions are supposed to go to his blog, but it just ended up on an hour-long rant about principle and how he might not reach his followers on his blog so ill just post this and let him respond on his own.

#a date with narry #(ooc even tho its my own blog im just breaking character for a bit: i was debating on whether or not i should just let narry respond here) #(bc it would be easier if i just did and have him rb on his blog and just move on to answering the others) #(but the narrator voice in my head straight up yelled and went into a long monologue for a good while asjkhd) #(anywho sendin this over to his blog i hope you dont mind yo!) #(also i love your narrator fics and headcannons sm btw! they actually play a huge inspiration to my narrator and his rp blog ajskhd)

[sincerely-sofie]

I was going to write this idea as a story, but my mind keeps flatlining every time I try to coherently make it. I still wanted to share the idea, so here’s a snippet that pretty much summarizes it:

TW: child abuse, neglect

•••

“Mother, is Boulders Quarry dangerous?”

“Pokémon can handle it if they’re prepared and experienced enough,” Twig hums, stirring the stir fry on the stove, “but those are with Pokémon who are trained, and it can still be dangerous even for them. It’s not a dungeon that me or your dad would let you go to for a very long time — not until you’re adult or close to it.”

She hears shattering behind her, and Twig quickly turns around. Opal’s plate, once holding in apple slices and strawberries, is in pieces. The ceramic remains decorate the floor, some stained by bruised fruits and the juices left behind. Twig’s mouth opens, ready to ask if Opal’s okay and warn her about stepping on the sharp pieces, but the words that mean to come out die as she looks at her daughter. Opal’s eyes are wide and slowly become teary. Her body trembles, evidently the cause of the broken plate rather than her potentially tripping. Her stare never leaves Twig, her mouth quivering as words try to come out but never do.

“Opal?” As soon as her name leaves Twig’s mouth, the Marshadow begins to cry. Fat tears roll down her cheeks, only getting heavier when Twig rushes to her side and brings her into an embrace. “Opal, what’s-?”

“I have a friend-” Opal chokes on her words, trying to push through an invisible blockade in her throat. “She- she says that her big sister and brother try to leave her in dungeons by herself to ‘toughen up’ and that they were going to take her to Boulders Quarry today. She doesn’t like fighting — she usually hides when they try, and I can always find her, I haven’t been able to find her- she- I don’t- I wanted to say- she said they’ll run away and take her if anyone knew, and she didn’t want to go away — but now she’s not here, but her big brother and sister are- and- and-!”

Between her blood running cold and her burning organs, Twig manages soft words that she thinks are comforting by the way Opal’s cries calm down, but the Charmeleon can’t hear them. Ark comes into the room, concerned words leaving, but Twig doesn’t hear them. She gently puts Opal into his arms and she thinks that she mentions an emergency, but it all blurs after that. Now she walks out of Boulders Quarry, a quivering, shaking child curled up in her arms. She is careful not to aggravate old wounds that couldn’t have come from the recent the recent dungeon. The familiar excuses are desperately made by the kid, but Twig knows.

“I just got lost.”

“I got this because I fell — I fall a lot.”

“I’m okay, I’m fine. Don’t tell auntie my big brother and sister. I can go by myself.”

Twig knows and, internally, she seethes.

•••

It’s not my best and everyone is probably ooc, but I hope it’s still somewhat enjoyable. Sorry if it isn’t tho!

"Not my best," they say. "I hope it's still somewhat enjoyable," they say. Meanwhile I am holding this fic in my teeth like a rabid dog and shaking it (appreciative) and biting it (adoring) and eating it (complimentary).

I don't have many words to share because I've just been reeling at how good this is ever since it was sent in, but I can't wait to see any more of your work, especially of this concept!

#Twig seeing straight through the excuses #looking at this kid and saying #“I know you're lying.” #the kid starts to panic and tries to make better excuses but Twig stops them and says it's okay and asks if a sleepover w/ Opal sounds fun #flash forward however long it takes for Twig to track down the siblings and when she does #she's a vision of rage and vengeance and fear and guilt and everything a little child who's gone through things no child should feels #those siblings are going to jail #i'm not even sure if their area has a local prison or a judicial system but they're going to ask to be locked up for their own safety #that lizard is going to kill them if they don't have some concrete walls between them and her in the next ten minutes #sorry to hijack the fic you sent in it just got me like (head in my hands head in my hands head in my hands) #the present is a gift fanart #the present is a gift au #shadow baby au #pokémon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #pmd sky #pmd eos #pmd2 #pmd #sofie answers asks

[skoulsons]

Eye To Eye Is All We Can See

• gif by @azertyrobaz

Pairing: Ezra & Cee (Prospect 2018)

Word count: ~2900

Summary: Ezra says something stupid and Cee tries to convince him that he’s wrong

A/N: Nothing except I wrote this until sunrise , so I apologize if it is absolutely terrible, downright ooc, or horribly grammatically. I have not rewatched the movie quite yet 💀 Just a bit of fluff and a tiny hurt/comfort?? Don’t ship them!!

Tagging my favorite people who I get to talk about this movie with: @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel @not-so-mundane-after-all @orangechickenpillow @jessahmewren @alternatewriter @starchild0985

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you,” she said.

They’ve been together a few cycles, the Green Moon left far behind them.

The cycles have been nothing short of eventful in a small spacecraft and two strangers in a very complicated relationship. Cee has had to keep an extra keen eye on Ezra. Not because of distrust, but to make sure his arm is healing well. Or, as well as a cut-off limb could heal with limited medical supplies and a kid, though capable, having done the operation.

Also because Ezra keeps forgetting he’s lost an arm and continuously reaches out for support along the walls of the ship when he moved from their sleeping quarters to the cockpit and he has fallen every single time. He fell out of his bed the first night they were in it; Cee spent five minutes trying to pull him back into the bed and then another fifteen having a verbal battle with him to try and convince him to get back in bed.

There have been moments of frustration where things catch up with Cee, her irritations coming out verbally to Ezra. He never fights back. He always sits, patient and understanding as Cee rehashes the things she’s kept bottled up and taped down for years with all the strength of scotch tape that’s lost all its grip.

They were also navigating their route off the Green to somewhere safe and figuring out… what exactly they were. Strangers? Partners? Friends? Family? Ezra has treated Cee as a real person, a girl with agency and deserving of a fruitful life since the second he met her; it’d be difficult to walk away from someone who gave you something you missed out on all your life. In that same way, it’d be hard to walk away from a kid that saved your life—twice.

Cee also had nightmares about the Green. The Saters, the mercs, the music, even her own father. Ones of Ezra, too. Him dying, abandoning her. Him using her, just like Damon seemed to do. On the worst night, the night when Damon and Ezra’s lifeless eyes were all she could see and their cold, torn open skin were all she could feel, she woke up crying.

Ezra was at her side before she even woke, unsure what exactly to do. He waited, and when she finally did wake, with a tear-stained face and a burning throat, Ezra’s compassion was overwhelming. His eyes were gentle, concerned. He kept his only arm hovering over her shoulder, waiting for permission. She let him hold it, for both their sakes, wishing she’d hugged him instead. Wishing she met him on the floor, their legs a conglomeration of limbs as he held her tight against his side. Instead, he stayed beside her until she calmed, quiet and reserved affirmations in It’s okay, little bird and You’re safe, Cee. Damon's cold, almost robotic responses to her harsher dreams were always Quit your crying or It’s a dream, calm down, so when Ezra keeps a firm, reassuring hold on her shoulder, talks her through it, and wears a soft smile Cee thinks she got to see even before Kevva knew of it—one that is only heightened when the stars of the Black shine enough light in to highlight his strands, making him look less intimidating than he makes himself out to be—Cee relaxes. How a stranger, of all people, can sit beside her and walk her through something so small compared to what all the Black has to offer is beyond her. How Ezra, literally, stooped down to her level to comfort her.

It doesn’t make sense. Nothing that has happened the last seven cycles makes sense. The Green and the people, if they could even be called such a thing, that the pair encountered still seemed so far away from Cee. That they were things that seemed only to be written in fictional novels and included in stories of old.

Except for one thing. One thing that makes sense. One thing that Cee is becoming more clear on with each passing cycle. Perhaps the clearest thing to come out of their time together.

He cares.

She cares, too.

And now they were in the Black, and had been for six cycles. The vastness and eternity of the growing darkness offered a strange comfort to both of them. Despite their care for each other, freedom was out there. Freedom awaited the both of them out there. Separate freedom.

Cee was always confined to Damon. She was always just another pair of hands to mine or hold something Damon couldn’t. An extra pair of eyes to search for Aurelac or an extra pair of ears to listen for any harm or to protect him, completely selfishly. Damon never acted selflessly, not even for his own daughter.

She hadn’t much freedom apart from him. She was always tied to him and his work. She was never given opportunities away from him. No chances for her to explore on her own. To see what was so great about this life that Kevva gifted her. She never had the chance to meet other people and form lasting friendships. She wasn’t given time to… live.

The Black offered that to her—Opportunities. Planets to stop at, to lay low on. Places to settle down. A life to live.

Ezra had freedom ever since he was a kid. He was free, encouraged even, to explore. To get to know the world around him. The vastness of the growing creation. He had the freedom, the opportunities, to explore all of it. But as he grew, there was a hunger for earning. A hunger for points and mining. Anything that could offer him a more than satisfactory life. Aurelac, specifically. An attachment to the work, the hunt, also selfishly. He did what he had to to get what he wanted, similar to Damon. Only Ezra, despite being on his own for most of his adulthood and being separated from his family for longer, cared. He cared enough to listen and pay attention to a little girl he didn’t even know.

He cared enough to be fair. Even split.

Being free from his work wasn’t too far-fetched for Ezra, but it happening because of a child was definitely not his expectation.

Especially someone like Cee. She had a fire in her. She was capable, he knew first hand she was. She was strong, threatening when she needed to be. She was skilled, intelligent, able.

But she was just a kid. He saw how scared she was, even with Damon. But in their time on the Green, he’s gotten to know her. Cee was kind, careful. Ezra noticed the way the inflection in her voice changed when she got excited about Streamer Girl. She cared and she protected. Her heart was big, willing to risk her life to go back for him, even after he specifically told her to go.

Cee was good. All she did was help. Love. She wasn’t a killer. She wasn’t selfish. She wasn’t ruthless or hungry for points. She wasn’t bad.

Ezra believed himself to be. He killed. He was willing, ready, to kill. Someone who has that reputation isn’t good, especially when killing a little girl’s dad gets added to the list, despite what he thought of the man.

He doesn’t believe he’s worthy to be thanked. That anything he’s done, especially to her, is any reason for thanks.

“Oh, no, nothing to thank me for, birdie. I have left you barren and deem your gratitude inappropriate for such a time. Ever since you touched down on the Green Moon, your conditions have been less than unacceptable…”

“Ezra…”

“...and I have been present in all the things that have troubled you so greatly these last few cycles. You have been burdened with dragging my weakened bag of bones across the Green.” “Even as we venture into the Black, you have continually endured my long-winded communication and idle, though I believe fascinating, narrative.”

“Ezra-”

“I am a bit crestfallen that you’ve been subjected to a multitude of predicaments in the time we’ve been together and that I have imparted insignificant salutary to your current expedition.”

“Ezra.”

“The Saters, the mercenaries… I’ve only brought you hindrance after hindrance, little bird. Allow me to implement points in to your care so that you may persevere in your journey and-”

“Ezra!” she shouted, grabbing at his face. Her hands reached his neck first, fingers stretching to the back of his neck, tickling his hairline.

She doesn’t know what this is like. Damon was never really gentle with her. Not physically, at least. She thinks, maybe, he was gentle with her when she was born. Holding her in the crook of his arm, her small, fragile head resting in the safety of his hold. Her skin held against his, breathing in tune with his, eyes fluttering open to catch her first glimpse of the world; her father, a tight-lipped smile strung across his face as tears well in his eyes, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth over the blanket she’s wrapped tightly in, occasionally bringing his thumb up to her red cheeks, a quiet hi to greet her.

Something she thinks Ezra could’ve done.

Something she suspects Damon didn’t do.

Something she knows Ezra would’ve done.

Cee pulled her hands away from his neck and brought them to his face instead, her palms too small to hold him the way she wanted to. She tried, letting them rest against his cheeks and feeling the scratch of his beard beneath her fingers. She kept her fingers outstretched, her pointer and middle threading lightly through the hair above his ears as her last two sit beneath his ear. She kept her thumbs in place on both his cheeks.

If there’s something to say, Cee can't say it.

She’s used to apologizing. She’s used to apologizing over taking up too much space. She’s used to apologizing over getting excited over Streamer Girl. She’s used to apologizing for eating too much of their rations, even when it was the amount she and Damon agreed on. She’s used to apologizing over resting, even when there was nothing to do. She’s used to apologizing over… being around him. Her breath was enough to apologize for.

But this wasn’t for apologizing. Ezra said something stupid and she needs to convince him that he’s wrong.

But the words can’t come to her. They don't. A contrast to how Ezra seemingly has an eleven page research paper of words on hand at all times, no matter the situation, Cee comes up short on correcting him. On affirming him that he’s wrong. On reassuring him that he has helped her.

He’s a grown man. A grown man who killed her father doesn’t need affirmation. Doesn’t need reassurance. And he surely does not need his face held because some kid thought he said something stupid.

Definitely not.

She holds his face firmly, the skin of his cheeks forming at her hold. “Don’t… say that, please. You’ve…” she pauses, inhaling and exhaling through her nose, forcing herself to catch his eyes and to make sure he hears her. “You’ve done a lot. You have. I know it’s… it’s only been a few cycles, but…”

You saved me. You protected me. You kept me. You came after me. You encouraged me. You made me feel safe. You tried to sacrifice yourself for me. You killed for me, more than once.

You loved me. You love me.

Her mind races with all of it, every word holding an unimaginable weight she had never experienced prior. Every word holding truth and passion behind them. Honesty covered every single one, Cee knowing in her soul that that was the man Ezra is. Those things he has done for her, how he’s treated her—that is who he is.

She watches him, wondering if, somehow, the look in her eyes could say the words for her. And if the glimmer in his eye is any indication, she thinks the burning it has left in her heart has found its way to his, too.

She could never say any of that about Damon. He wasn’t an encouragement and any dreams she had and wanted to pursue were shut down by him. She didn’t feel safe with him—not the kind of safe where she’d hide behind him if they were approached. There wasn’t any confidence that he’d care to protect her with his life. And if it came down to the Saters, Damon wouldn’t have kept her.

Ezra was different. Ezra was new, fresh. Real. He showed her more in seven cycles than Damon showed her in sixteen years.

That, to Cee, was enough.

She was wanted now. She could tell. Ezra’s attempt at telling her he was no good for her and saying he offered her nothing was the furthest thing from the truth.

Cee has sought connections all her life and was always denied or taken too soon to form a new one. It was always just Damon. Ezra went through so many partners in his life that he became numb to anyone who would stick around permanently. Numb to anyone who would ever be with him—his other half. And when a child entered his life and created and filled the hole in his heart that wasn’t there before, it became something supernatural. A longing he had immediately, and also a resisting. He was dangerous and he managed to put Cee in some of the most risky situations in under a day.

But Cee didn’t focus on that. She saw through that. She saw his passion and interest in the things he talked about. While it has only been with her, she’s seen the way he cares. The way he went to walk her through the operation on his arm. How he smiled at her and had an immediate pet name off hand to call her by, which, surprisingly, has stuck around—not that she would ask for him to stop using it. How he indulged her interest in Streamer Girl, saying he must now read it after hearing her praise it so well. She’s seen his gentleness in how he’s treated her, spoken to her, but also his violence in how he’d protected her from the mercenaries.

He’s done more than enough, as much as he may try and convince her, or himself, that he has not.

She smiles at him, her hands still on the sides of his face. Before she has a moment to really think, she brought her hands around his neck more, tilting his head down and his forehead towards her. She goes to the side a bit, kissing the skin right at the hairline of his blonde section of hair. She takes a moment to breathe in while her lips are still pressed to his forehead and her fingers lay by his ears, gently holding his head in place.

If she can’t find words, she hopes this works in their place.

She pulls away from him, keeping her hands still on his face as she settles their glances back. Ezra smiles as he shyly drops his head, breathing out a light laugh. Cee smiles, too. A wide, happy smile. One almost unfit after all she’s been dealt.

Cee drops her left hand to his shoulder and takes her right hand away from his face and brings it to the blonde section of his hair. “So…” she starts, rubbing some strands back and forth between her thumb and pointer finger, “how did this even happen?”

Ezra lifts his head, trying to move his head out of Cee’s grasp, but she just laughs, continuing to rub the strands together. He stops moving his head and looks back at her, a more serious expression on his face. “Quite the story there, little bird.”

She makes a face. “...And? We’re not in a rush.”

“That we aren’t, birdie. That we aren’t. Still, it’s a bit of a lengthy tale that I don’t believe to be worthwhile taking up any cherished time we have on our trek-”

“Ezra.”

“Yes?”

“Are you avoiding my question because it’s an embarrassing story?”

Ezra looks offended and starts backing up his claim with no’s and some long and winding explanation as to how, after inhaling alarming amounts of Dust in the Green, he was brought to Central to be fixed up. A few cycles in, Ezra, prematurely, got out of bed and tripped over himself, hitting the small guard rail on the other side of the bed, knocking himself unconscious. The incident gave him nine extra cycles at medical bay and, within a few weeks, after his wound had healed, his hair was growing back blonde.

They laugh together in the ship, the joyous noise echoing off the walls as they continue to pile on jokes and more stories as the conversation flows. By the end of it, Cee’s face is red and Ezra is breathing heavily, both of them slumped against separate walls, holding their stomachs.

It’s true, there are opportunities out there in the Black. Places to settle down and figure things out. And with each new passing cycle, their decision becomes more clear: they’re figuring it out together.

~~~~~~~~~

post-fic note: I can’t remember exactly, but Ezra’s hair growing back blonde after an incident I think comes from another prospect fic out there, I think we violent ones, but I’m 100% sure if it was that one or another one. All that to say it is not an original idea and I don’t take credit for using it for Ezra’s character. I liked the idea of it when I first read it and wanted to use it similarly

#this is an absolute dumpster fire #but it’s fine #everything’s FINE #im sorry my WIP is getting very close but #I had to write them last night #I was gonna slam my head through a table if I didn’t #I know only like 5 people will see this #and I love all of you five people #im so sorry if this is bad I haven’t written them in a WHILE #not to mention I wrote for hours straight with no food and little water and sleep deprived 💀 #prospect 2018 #prospect fanfic #prospect fic #L writes #fun fact #this was supposed to be cee kissing where Ezra’s blonde hair was #that was it #that was the WHOLE idea #and it is not that anymore

[lunar-years]

my take is that jamie knows but probably enver did anything just bc sticking to women is much safer it his career and dad. and while i love the fics where roy has loads of experience, i'm sorry but like what is his obsession with jamie's dick (and cbt lol) if not the result of a man who doesn't understand why he's that fixated on another man?

LOL oh Roy. I think this is backstory fodder I'm going to switch up differently literally every time I write about it because so many options are truly viable and could be made to work within canon. But if i had to pick one I believe fits with canon "the most," I agree with you.

I especially think you're right about Roy. Before s3 I could've easily believed Roy knew his sexuality, saw no need to ever come out but also didn't shy away from it, and had plenty of one- night stands or short stints with both men & women in past (I think it's pretty canon that he's never had a serious relationship prior to Keeley; I also head canon that Roy was pretty wild and a big partier in his youth). After watching s3 however it's abundantly clear to me that this man is REPRESSED-repressed. Honestly, I think I didn't even realize the full extent until the finale. After Man City I was still like oh, ot3 definitely had sex the night before the match--zero doubt in my mind that happened. Then after i watched the finale i completely recalibrated and was like oh okay so not only did ot3 not have sex, Roy also fully hasn't realized his whole thing with Jamie is that. He's still awaiting his "Oh" fanfiction realization moment that he's fully in love with this man. A man. and well, that's new.

Jamie I think I'm a little more open to anything goes. I'm adamant that he's known since childhood (he definitely knew what he was doing when he hung Roy's poster above his bed, lol), but I also think he put his career above all things and wouldn't have taken the risk, particularly at the times his dad was really in the picture. If he does have experience with men I think it's pretty brief and limited to something that happened as a teenager/at the academy level before he was really playing professionally, or after his breakup with Keeley before coming back to Richmond. I do think he and Keeley talked about it when they were together and acted out a lot of fantasies though. hehe.

#jamie tartt #roy kent #royjamie #royjamiekeeley #ted lasso #asks #also #i think the funny version that jamie fully thinks everyone is just Like That& straight people don't exist is hilarious and frankly?possible #or reversely but in the same vein. he knows that he definitely has the hots for men but what do you mean he's not straight? of course he is #even straight men wank off to other men on occasion. Jesus roy... get your head out of the sand man! #(there was a fic like this. I think jedasaur wrote it. it was fabulous.)