Censored at Leisure

"Hey" You greet your son, ignoring the bag he's just flung onto the couch as he storms into the kitchen "How was your day?"

"What do you think?" He snaps, coming to stand across from you around the island "Everyone- and I mean, everyone went to the concert last night! No no-" He retraces his words, shaking his head "Not everyone because I was stuck at some dumb airshow I didn't even want to go to!"

You sigh, one of long suffering as you come around to put a hand on his shoulder "Hon, we talked about this. Your Dad was being commended at the event and as family, if we didn't go-"

Your son's obviously not listening to reason as he goes on, shrugging your arm off "Yeah? Well, then you should've gone alone! Do you know what it was like to sit there and hear everyone talk about what a great night it was and how much fun they had?" Flinging his arms around, he huffs "Steven even got to go backstage and grab signed posters"

Your usually sweet boy behaving in such a flippant manner was surprising but then again, going to highschool and adjusting to the workload obviously was not easy on him and you were trying your best to be understanding "How about next time they're in town, I'll get you VIP tickets?"

"God knows when that will be" He rolls his eyes, scoffing as he pulls off his hoodie "I'm sick and tired of missing out. You won't let me join the summer camp, I can't apply for the exchange program and I didn't even bother asking if I could participate in the annual fest because-" Making air quotes and twisting his face in a sneer, he spits out "-I have curfew"

Your brows furrow at that, frown pulling at your lips "Why wouldn't you sign up for that? We'd have given you permission and even swung by to check out the scene"

"Because you never let me do anything! I can't stay out a minute past my curfew without getting grounded. I have to trade in schoolwork for free time because you guys are too wound up. Cut me some fucking slack, Mom"

"Language" You immediately snap, like a reflex, and your son's face twisting further into annoyance is clear indication that you're proving his point "We let you do tons of other things, alright? Just because we have some non-negotiables doesn't mean we're being too much"

"Like what?" He's getting agitated by the second, voice pitching higher as a vein protrudes on his temple. And in that moment, with his amethyst orbs glinting with anger, he looked like a spitting image of his Father, almost making you do a double take.

"We took you to that gaming event you wanted to go to! And and- bought you the Lego set you wanted" Sighing, you step closer to him again and put your arm around his shoulders this time "You know we just care about your safety and that's why we want you home on time. When you go to college, you'll have all the freedom to do whatever you want. Is it so bad that we want our son to spend time with us right now?"

Slapping your arm away, your son picks up his hoodie from where he'd tossed it, seething in a scalding voice "Ever wondered if I wanna spend time with you, Mom? I'm kinda sick of you guys"

You can still feel the sting on your skin from where he'd slapped it away. Looking into his enraged eyes, you want to be patient with him, understand that it's coming from a place of burnout and stress with a heavy dose of feeling left out. But you can't help the hurt seeping into your bones at his flippant behavior, wondering when it became okay for him to dismiss your feelings.

He's brushing past you but stops short and even steps back. Not because he heard the sniffle you'd tried to suppress but because someone else had.

"Hey, buddy? Disrespect my wife again and you and I will cease having any blood relations till I put you in your place"

August comics

"What do you mean?" You sniffle slightly, your throat raspy. Sylus smirks ever so slightly, a face he makes whenever you amuse him.

It's a face you're very familiar with.

"You're sick. You won't have much fun if we go out." There's a tiny part of his voice that sounds disappointed. You're sure he is. He hadn't told you the details, but you know he had big plans for your first Valentines day as a couple.

"I can still go! I'm fine really!" It might have been convincing if you hadn't sneezed immediately after. Sylus chuckles, picking you up from your vanity with ease. You'd protest if he wasn't so warm and comfortable.

He settles you on the couch, carefully laying a blanket on you, and then another, and then one more for good measure.

"Are you hungry?" His hand presses to your forehead. The heat radiating off you must worry him, because he frowns.

"Can I have ice cream?" You pout up at him. His brow raises, clearly both aware of what you're doing and unable to resist it.

"...You shouldn't eat ice cream while sick."

"My doctor says it's okay."

"I need to meet this doctor of yours before your teeth rot out of your head."

Before you can dwell on THAT idea too much, Sylus retrieves the pint of ice cream, though it's not without reluctance. He doesn't allow you to pull your arms from the blanket, settling next to you and feeding you a small bite. You hum in satisfaction as it dulls the ache in your throat, leaning your head on his broad shoulder.

"When you feel better, I'll make it up to you. We'll have a proper Valentine's day." He murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. You shake your head as best you can, though a yawn creeps through as you do.

"This is the best Valentine's I've ever had. You know why? Cause it's with you."

how she looked at Spider by the end of Afaa:

she said:

“in the future, it will come full circle and people will get so tired of ai writing and ai movies that, if anything, those with money will pay human talent more because those creatives will be the only ones who can be BOTHERED to do the work.”

and that really stuck with me.

Rafayel: Did you eat?

Sylus: What?

Rafayel: What?

Sylus: Are you copying me?

Rafayel: Are you copying me?

Sylus: I love you.

Who is the LI that you think that can handle Luke and Kieran the best? Like who would be unfazed by their bs?

a dangerous feat to be climbing such a skyscraper while it walks forward, but who would lucian be if he cannot be the daring headache he so charmingly can be?

gripping sylus’s shirt tight, lucian uses his chin on his shoulder as leverage to haul himself up.

sylus supports his bottom with one hand. adjusts the shades lucian grabbed onto and pulled earlier with the other. “it’s me. i’m your dad.”

“papa dad and papa?” he grunts, feet digging into sylus’s side to push himself higher up the shoulder. sylus doesn’t even flinch. “papa is not papa what?”

sylus’s brows knit together. the question proving to be a little more difficult to understand let alone to explain now. “dads and papas are fathers. it just depends on what you call them.”

lucian finally makes it up sylus’s shoulders now. the air is colder up here, but the sun beats down a little harsher. he closes his eyes. “ow.”

having successfully shooed mephisto off the other shoulder in place of his leg, the bird sits on the child’s head. he opens his wings as shade. lucian squints. “good birdie.”

and turns back to sylus. “fa-dur and ma-dur is— mama and papa?”

“yes, angel.” sylus steadies him with hands on his knees as they continue to walk.

“papa is not papa what?” he asks again.

sylus frowns. “what do you mean?”

“papa is—,” lucian’s face shows the world just how much processing his growing brain is doing. mephisto squawks at him to try and help, but lucian shakes his head. “papa is? is kee-ro? is lucian?”

but sylus still doesn’t get it. “i don’t—“

“ah!” lucian gasps, grabs mephisto by the neck (he doesn’t mind, he’s used to it by now) and almost pokes sylus’s eye out when he shoves it in his vision. an abrupt pause to their walk is in order. “dis m’pisto!”

“that’s mephisto.” sylus nods, watching. admiring how lucian is solving the predicament all on his own.

lucian points to himself. “woo-shee-an.”

“lucian.”

back to the direction of the house. “kee-ro. kee-wi. wook.”

“kyros, kieran, luke…”

points to random directions, not knowing where your work really is located. “mama!”

sylus smiles. he gets it. he says your name and lucian’s face brightens.

“hmph!” lucian points to him now. his dad. his father. his papa. “you!”

sylus chuckles. hooking his hands under lucian’s armpits, he brings his son down to eye level and rests him in the crook of his elbow. he takes his sunglasses off to look him in the eye. “sylus.”

“ooh.” lucian coos, wide eyed and wonderful. “sy-woos. nice.”

sylus laughs. “want to call me sylus?”

lucian thinks about it for a minute. tries it again on his tongue and makes a decision. “no, tank yoo.”

“don’t like my name?”

lucian shakes his head, no it’s not that. it’s just that, “i like my papa.”

Everything had seemed fine this morning. Better than ever really. Sure, he hated to go to work on your day off, but he promised to be home early and you'd seemed excited by the prospect.

Now, he's really regretting going in to work.

Your engagement ring sits on the living room table, the jewel glinting in the light. It's almost taunting him. He's so used to seeing the band on your finger, where he had placed it just a few months ago. You'd been so happy then.

What did he do wrong?

Zayne picks it up carefully, inspecting the ring he'd agonized over for weeks, wanting to make sure you'd love it. You deserve the best after all, and he wants to give it to you.

It's why he quietly ascends the stairs, stopping at the doorway of your shared bedroom. You're fast asleep, buried under the blankets and still clutching the snowman plushie he'd bought you. Zayne hesitates, unsure how to proceed from here.

He shifts his weight nervously and, of course, the floorboard underneath him creaks.

“Hmm?” You stir, starting to blink awake and squinting at his figure in the doorway.

“Sorry. Go back to sleep.” The words leave him too quickly, and alarm bells must go off in your head because you sit up and rub your eyes.

“What’s wrong?” You gesture him over and his feet carry him to your side despite the knot in his throat.

“You…you left your engagement ring on the table.” He chokes out, feeling his hands start to get colder. You look confused for a moment, before your eyes widen, hands darting out to grab his.

“Oh my god no Zayne I just took it off cause I was taking a nap on the couch but then I moved to the bedroom and forgot to put it back on! It’s nothing like that, I promise.”

Well, now he might pass out from relief.

“So everything is…alright?” Your hands are warm against his, the cold aching in his bones starting to fade away. You smile, pulling him closer to peck his cheek.

Weapon's body was on the verge of giving out. Four hours. It was pathetic, honestly. He withstood eight hours last week. Pathetic, indeed.

But maybe it was because Handler had brought out the whip this time. That would make sense.

Weapon tried to get up. He put his hands on the ground and pushed, and he lifted himself to his hands and knees before Handler's foot connected with his ribs.

Weapon's face his the floor once more, and when he opened his eyes, he saw blood next to his face, and he tasted the metallic flavor of the blood in his mouth.

"I told you to get up, you fucking mutt."

And Weapon tried again, and, again, he was kicked.

He knew what would happen if he didn't obey. But he couldn't push past it. Not today. Because he was pathetic.

Just imagine being tucked in his cave together, him covered in cuts and bruises and bites after he fought off another dragon that tried to claim his territory. Blood drips from his brow, from his lip (though not all of that is his), from scratches littering his back and chest - he's a mess. And you're getting annoyed that he keeps trying to lick them clean

I swear, you turn your back for one second to get some clean water and a cloth and he's contorted, head under his arm to reach his back, tongue lapping at a cut with his cat-like forked tongue

He grumbles and pouts when you scold him. He's always dealt with his injuries like this and he's fine, he doesn't need a mortal to worry over him

But then he sees your glare... and okay if you really want to help, you can, he guesses (he folds like a lawn chair istg)

He doesn't react much when you go around and thoroughly wash away all the blood and dirt and saliva. In fact, he kinda relaxes into it. It's like being groomed, a dragon's tongue exchanged for the gentle grit of fabric in his beloved's hand. At some point, he even lets his eyes close - an immense sign of trust - and stars purring, rumbling like an earthquake is stuck in his chest

If you make a salve to help him heal faster (unnecessary, he tells you, because he already heals faster than your frail mortal body), he's resting his head on your shoulder and watching you grind up all the herbs into a paste. Scrunches his nose up once the smell hits him, huffing out air through his nose to expel the scent with little success

First one is someone targeting Xavier because they suspect he’s Lumiere (maybe a gang he stole Protocores from or something) And they grab him on his way home from work so MC has to track him down for rescue.

And since you haven’t written Sylus whump yet, my other idea was Sylus taking a hit for MC during a fight because of course he does, but he doesn’t realize it’s one of the antimatter weapons so he can’t heal himself. (You might be able to use this for the ‘wound that won’t heal’ BTHB square too.)

Looking forward to seeing what you come up with! ^_^

IT'S DONE! I went with the Sylus idea since I haven't written anything for him yet and it was about time. Plus I was happy to get another square filled in on my bingo card!

Here's the link: Habits

Filling in the @badthingshappenbingo square: "Wound That Would Not Heal"

Word Count: 4,322