#[there is so much wrong with this stupid man]

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own), part 3 (i didn't plan this)

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Dynamight agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[pitchsidestories]

all's well that ends well II Lucy Bronze x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2010

a/n: hi, we hope you enjoy the full length oneshot to the snippet we posted last week. 🫶🏻

“You!”

Your voice was high-pitched and cracked slightly at the end of the question.

You didn’t care.

There was no way, she was actually here. You had heard the rumours but hadn’t believed any of it. And now she was actually here, right in front of your eyes, on the Chelsea training grounds.

She actually did it.

You watched her through narrowed eyes, subconsciously clenching your jaw.

She smiled brightly at you: “Yes, me. Good morning to you too, pretty girl.“

There it was, that typical smug smile. Lucy Bronze, just like you wanted to forget her.

“Don’t call me that.“, you warned her.

Bad enough that she was here, you didn’t need her stupid remarks.

She remained unbothered, teasing you some more: “Oh, someone woke up in a bad mood.“

“No, only still stuck in a nightmare called Lucy Bronze.“, you replied, taking in the unfamiliar sight of her in the blue Chelsea training shirt.

From the look on her face she clearly interpreted it as you checking her out.

You cringed.

“A nightmare, huh?”, she repeated with a grin.

You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid self-assured smile off her face.

“Dressed in Chelsea colours. Why did you come back? And of all clubs you had to choose mine?!”

You half-expected her to crack another joke but instead, her face turned serious.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t come here for you. I came for what the club had to offer.“

“In other words, Barca didn’t want you anymore.“, you taunted her.

You watched, waiting to see her face fall but it never did. She just cocked her head and replied: “Cold. But essentially yes, they didn’t guarantee me a spot in the starting squad so I left.“

Before you could stop yourself, you released a humourless laugh.

Following Lucys confused look, you explained: “You always leave when it gets uncomfortable. See you on the pitch.“

You turned around and took exactly two steps towards the football pitch before you heard Lucy catching up to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean? If you really think that you don’t know me well enough.“, she asked, her voice finally conveying some anger.

“Oh, I do know you.“, you shrugged and left her standing on the sideline of the pitch, joining your teammates for the warm-up.

To your surprise, she jogged up next to you, clearly not done with the conversation yet. “Sure. Of course you know me better than I know myself. You’ve always been such a know-it-all.“

You huffed in offence but before you could protest, she increased her pace and left your side.

In her place, Sam Kerr appeared with a curious look on her face: “Wait, you and Bronzey got history?”

“Yes, it was a long time ago though and I don’t want to talk about it, okay.”, you revealed reluctantly.

“Aw man, I love a good break up story.”, the Australian forward replied pouting.

“I know you do Sammy, but you won’t hear that one.”, you told her.

“I’ll figure it out sooner or later.”, she declared confidently.

“Don’t you dare asking Lucy about us.”, you warned your teammate.

“I’m sure she’ll tell me.”, Sam responded winking.

Much to her actual surprise the English defender did open up towards her, once it was just the two of them in an empty room.

“Our story is quick to tell we were together for quite a while, I went to another club, so we tried to do long distance, yet it didn’t work out.”

“And she thinks it’s your fault?”, Sam questioned.

“Obviously and she’s talking about comfortable all she has ever known is English football.”, the older woman shrugged.

The forward took a moment to think about what she just said before humming. “Oh, this is going to be a very interesting season.”

“Admittedly, I did a few things wrong in the past and there isn’t much I regret but these I do.” Memories of the moment Lucy regretted the most passed behind her inner eye.

“That’s too much information. I didn’t come for a deep dive.”, Sam intervened chuckling.

“Come on girls, don’t dally.”, Millie who stood in the doorframe called for them.

“She thinks she has something to say around here now that she has an honours doctorate.”, the forward rolled her eyes playfully.

“We’re ready, Doctor Bright.”, the dark-haired defender reassured the blonde with a teasing grin on her lips.

“Good to hear, Doctor Bronze.”, Millie answered happily.

A few days had passed since your conversation with your ex-girlfriend. During and post training you tried your best to ignore her. You were about to leave the Chelsea grounds, but a familiar voice held you back.

“Can we talk?”

“Now?”, you wanted to know.

“Yes.”, Lucy nodded.

“Fine, but be quick, I don’t have much time.”, you stated in an icy tone crossing your arms impatiently.

“Then you’ve to make some time.”, she emphasized.

“What do you want to talk about?”, you asked short-temperedly.

“About us. This is getting ridiculous. How’re we supposed to play together when you ignore me all the time?”, the defender countered eagerly awaiting your response.

The late afternoon light enhanced her tan, and her green eyes were glowing. You couldn’t help to admire the woman in front of you, but when you remembered what happened between you two and acid formed in your mouth, so you spat out words as cruel as the taste of that. Sentences you knew would hurt her.

“You’re less quick and sharp nowadays. Also how am I supposed to trust you on and off the pitch?”

Lucy blinked at you. Her face frozen, not slightest slip. Shaking her head, she replied: “You really have a way of making someone feel welcome here.“

“I’m normally more welcoming to our new signings… making sure they settle well into London…“

You stopped yourself from continuing and bit your lip. Why did you now feel the need to prove to her that your were actually good person?

“But not to me, I got it.“, she said, almost reading your exact next thought. She should know that you didn’t welcome her here.

“You’re a whole different story.“, you said plainly.

Your eyes suddenly caught sight of her arms crossed in front of herself. The little hairs stood up, small bumps forming around them. She had goosebumps.

“You’ll need a jacket. The evenings can already get cold.“, you advised her, trying to let no empathy seep through.

At once, you felt glad that you remembered to wear a long-sleeved shirt to training. You absentmindedly pulled the sleeves over your hands.

Your ex just rolled her eyes: “You act like I’ve never been to England.“

“You’re freezing. I can see that from here.“

“Yeah, this is obviously not Barcelona. But I’m not new here.“, she replied with clear annoyance.

You refused to let her have the point. “True but you never played in London though.“

“No, I didn’t.“

“See.“

It was petty but you won. You turned to walk away from her like you had done so many times in the past few days but again she wouldn’t let you. Her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you back in one swift movement.

“Where are you going? We’re not done here.“

You sighed in frustration: “I won’t ignore you in training anymore. Happy?”

“No.“

“There’s more?”, you frowned at her.

“Of course, it’s not done with that.“

Eyebrows raised, you waited for an explanation: “So?”

“We should talk about us too. And what happened.“, she suggested.

Your heart stopped for a second, your lungs felt deprived of air and you couldn’t do anything but stare at her for a second. There was no way you would bring that break up back again. You both knew how it had ended.

“Another time, okay?”

“Y/n…“

You forced yourself to a half-smile: “See you tomorrow.“

You found yourself in the starting line-up for the next friendly at Stamford Bridge. You would be playing on the right wing, in front of Lucy. And despite all your doubts, the game went well.

More than well, to be honest. It was like you had never been apart. Lucys typical runs forward gave you the opportunity to move towards the centre and position yourself in the penalty areas. One of her crosses was so precise that you only had to tilt your head to put the ball into the net.

“Amazing game, girls. The season is off to a great start.“, Millie cheered as she high-fived you way too hard.

“Yeah, thanks for the assist, Luce.“

“You’re welcome. I still know your movements on the pitch.”, Lucy waved it off while the look on her face was melancholic. There was a hint of fondness in her voice too.

“And I’m sorry for what I said about your playing style.”, you bit your lip guiltily.

“I know.”, the defender sounded almost amused.

“Good.”, you sighed relived.

“Don’t worry.”, the older woman added quickly.

“Bye Luce.”

“See you, y/n.”, Lucy watched you go with a sad smile.

“Lucy? You two are so weird.”, Millie tapped on the dark-haired defender’s shoulder.

Irritated she turned around to face her team’s captain. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you finally talk about it?”, the blonde asked frustrated.

“I try to, but she always runs away.”, the older player explained annoyed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out for you.”, Millie promised.

And the Chelsea captain stayed true to her words.

It was the next day when you found yourself locked in a room with your ex-girlfriend.

“Sam, Erin, that’s not funny, let us out!”, you commanded, hammering your hands against the door. You felt like a mouse stuck in a trap.

“Do you hear anything, Erin?”, you heard the Australian ask the Scottish midfielder. The reply wasn’t audible to your ears because Lucy had started to speak.

“They’ll open the door again once we talked about us.”

“That’s so childish of them. To talk about us? That’s history.”, you grumbled.

“Of course. It’s obviously not history for you if you keep pouting about it.”, the defender observed

“I’m not pouting, I’m so over you at this point.”, you corrected her.

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”, your former lover sounded unconvinced.

“You really broke my heart back then.”, you confessed quietly, your voice full of the sadness and hurt from days in the past when the breakup was still fresh like a open wound you thought would never heal.

“I didn’t do anything.”, she remarked calmly.  

“Yes, you did you left.”, you disagreed fiercely.

“I left because I had to. After you assured me, long distance would work.”, Lucy defended herself.

A grieving smirk appeared on your face, you remembered your old self, what a fool she has been. “I thought it would, but it didn’t that happens.”

“Yes, it happens. So, stop blaming me for leaving it was a mutual decision.”

“It wasn’t your fault- Cam we leave now?”, you directed the question towards the people who kept you in that room.

“Nope, you know what we want to hear.”, Sam declared grinning.

“Lucy, what does she want from us?”, you wanted to know.

“I’ve no idea., she admitted before continuing, we won’t get back together, Sam. That won’t work.”

“Exactly.”, you added quickly.

“That’s not what we want. Keep talking and you’ll see.”, the forward insisted.

“What if we begin again? Like we just met for the first time.”, Lucy suggested.

“Wait, what?”, you frowned.

“We can start over.”, she offered in a hopeful tone.

“You mean as in strangers who get to know each other?”

“Maybe.” , she nodded knowing fully well you’d never be a stranger to her.

“And we don’t know where this leads to?”, you felt your heart flutter against your chest, the door was open again and you both stepped into the unknowing. The past was the past the future was uncertain, all you could influence was the present.

All's well that ends well. Yet this was only the beginning and the closing of one chapter of your relationship.

[justagalwhowrites]

Can't Stay Away - A QZ!Joel Miller Fic

Years after you turned to Joel for help getting out of a bad relationship, he can't seem to stop coming back to you.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Angst (duh), Joel is a bit of an asshole (that's the point and it makes him even hotter, I fear), mention of past domestic violence (not described), injury from past domestic violence, threat of continued domestic violence. unprotected P in V sex, breeding kink, fantasizing about pregnancy (doesn't actually happen.) Minors DNI 18+ only, no use of Y/N.

Length: 4.1k

A/N: Shared for the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration found on Tumblr here. This is QZ!Joel with Secret Relationship and Breeding Kink. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist | AO3

“Where the fuck else is there to go?” Tommy asked, shucking his mud-covered boots and leaving them in a pile by the door. 

“Just got business to take care of,” Joel said, voice rough. 

“It’s pourin’ rain, man,” his brother said, dropping his drenched pack to the table as if to make a point. “We didn’t even know we were makin’ it back tonight until fuckin’ tonight. Just stay home.” 

“Wanna get this done,” Joel said, taking his portion of their haul from his pack and piling it on the table. He left just one thing inside the pack. “Probably won’t be back ’til morning.” 

Tommy just pursed his lips, shaking his head a little. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid, Joel.” 

Joel didn’t say anything back. What did he have to say? 

Tommy had every reason to worry about him being stupid. Every reason to believe that Joel was going to do something that would hurt their smuggling operation. Every reason to believe that Joel was going to do something that would hurt himself. 

Which, he supposed, wasn’t particularly far off. 

You were, indeed, something stupid and something that would hurt him. 

You were his biggest indulgence and his biggest risk, the thing that was the largest threat to him here in the Boston QZ. 

Ex-wife of a FEDRA guard, Joel should avoid you. 

His work was dangerous enough as it was, he shouldn’t make it more dangerous by messing around that close to the people who could execute him if they really wanted, especially not with someone they seemed to take pleasure in tormenting.

But he couldn’t seem to stay away from you. 

He couldn’t put his finger on what it was. It wasn’t that he loved you. Not that he’d ever really loved a woman - he’d tried with Sarah’s mom and was sure he’d come up short - but he knew he didn’t have it in him to love anything now. The aching wound of loss took up too much of him, there wasn’t space for anything else.

But he did care. Whether that was because he was attached to you as a person or because you made him come so hard he forgot the world ended for a moment, he didn’t know. 

He supposed the why didn’t matter. He cared. He cared enough that he couldn’t lose you without it adding to that wound, one that had damn near killed him and had seemed to have only grown worse with time. 

That should be enough of a reason to stay away from you. Hadn’t he learned his lesson by now? That giving a shit only led to pain? That if he was going to keep surviving any of this, he had to be far, far away from something like you? 

Still, he made his way through the QZ, the pouring, cold rain fitting the grim environs. Everything here was slightly wrong. It looked something like a city from before but not. It appeared as though things could be normal, somewhere, except they weren’t. It seemed as though Joel had been tailor made for this place, this time. Living some kind of half life where everything was shades of gray, nothing left to live for but - apparently - not able to die. The last gasp of humanity left in him clinging to this world. 

That made you a shade of gray, too, one he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

It had started years earlier, when you were desperate and willing to trade sex for a gun. 

Joel hadn’t taken you up on the offer then, frowning as you watched him with wide, desperate eyes. 

“The hell do you need a gun for?” He’d asked. “If you don’t already got one, hard pressed to see someone like you startin’ in on a business that needed one.” 

“Does it matter?” You asked. “I’ll give you what ever you want, please.” 

“Matters to me,” Joel said. “Not about to arm someone looking to move in on my business.” 

“It’s not for that.” 

“Then you shouldn’t have a problem tellin’ me what it is for,” he replied. 

You looked around, cagey, before lowering your voice further. As though talking about an illegal weapons trade wasn’t enough of a reason to keep quiet. 

“I’m leaving my husband,” you said, those wide, soft eyes watching him so closely. “He’s FEDRA and he’s made it clear that he won’t let me go without a fight. I need to be able to protect myself, please, I can give you ration cards as I earn them, I can… I’ll do anything else you might want, I…” 

“Stop,” Joel cut you off, tears starting at the edges of your eyes. He took his hand gun from its place tucked in the small of his back and passed it to you as discreetly as he could. “There, now you got somethin’. Meet me here tomorrow, same time, I’ll get you more ammo. Know how to use it?” 

“Don’t I just point it and pull the trigger?” You asked, brows raised. 

He just sighed. 

“Think you can keep from usin’ it until tomorrow?” He asked. You nodded quickly. “Good. I’ll show you.” 

“Thank you,” you said, stashing the weapon quickly. “What… what do I owe you?” 

The fear in your voice made his stomach turn.

“Nothin’,” Joel said. “Fine on ration cards at the moment. Don’t trade in the other shit. Tomorrow. Don’t be late.” 

 You just nodded quickly, thanking him with too much earnest hope in your voice for something being spoken to him.

Joel spent the afternoon the next day teaching you how to shoot as best he could inside the QZ. Turns out, the reason you didn’t already know how is that you’d been in Boston during the outbreak. You’d just moved there with your shitbag of a husband a few weeks before it all came crashing down. You’d never really needed to fight, let alone shoot or kill. You never needed a gun. 

Until your husband started hitting you. 

Joel learned quickly exactly why you felt like you needed to be armed. He’d put a hand on your ribs to adjust your stance and you hissed in pain. Joel pulled away quickly, frowning as you tried to hide your pained expression but it didn’t work. 

“You gonna tell me what that was?” He asked, brows raised. You clenched your jaw and stared at the ground. 

“It’s not your business.”

“I’m helpin’ you, your husband is a fucking FEDRA officer, if you’re about to haul off and kill him I should know why,” he said, voice heated. “So tell me, he do that?” 

Your eyes finally met his and he didn’t need to ask again. 

“Lemme see.” 

“Joel…” 

“Show me,” he said, voice sharp. 

You sighed and lifted your sweatshirt, revealing discolored and swollen skin along one side. 

Joel clenched his jaw. 

“It’s gotten worse,” you said quietly. “I can’t keep pretending it’ll be OK if we just get through this, I can’t pretend like he hasn’t been building toward this for years. I need to get out before he kills me.” 

Joel stepped back and you lowered your shirt, your eyes on his. 

“He bigger than you?” He asked. You nodded. “Alright, gonna teach you a few more things, too…” 

He showed you how to protect yourself without a gun and how to end a conflict with one. He hoped you wouldn’t need to use either. After a few days of showing you how to do the things he’d assumed just came with the territory of surviving the end of the world, you went your separate ways. 

But Joel still thought of you, an odd twinge in his chest when he did, something like concern. He wanted you to be OK. He couldn’t put his finger on why that would matter to him but he wanted that, he wanted you to be safe and happy. 

So when he ran into you on the street a few months later, he couldn’t help but ask. And you smiled at him, brighter than he’d ever seen you look, when you told him that you had your own place now, that the gun he’d given you had never been fired. It was hard, but you’d survived. 

The two of you went to the speakeasy and you bought Joel a drink, saying you owed him for helping you get out of your situation. He let you buy the first round. He bought the second. Before too long, he was in your apartment, pulling off your clothes and touching your body without you flinching away from him. 

You became like a drug to him then. Every few nights he found himself outside your door, desperate for the reprieve you and your sex gave him. Some sense of normalcy, the ability to feel something beyond the crushing weight of loss, that brief moment when he was buried inside you and reaching his peak that the rest of the world fell away and he existed on a plane where nothing bad had ever happened to him and he’d never done anything to deserve it. 

He tried to pretend like that release is all it was. But then there were moments where he couldn’t deny that it was more. The time where he passed you on the street and your eyes met his and he wanted to go talk to you, to see why your eyes seemed dark and sad, but there was a FEDRA guard watching you from the corner and he couldn’t risk it, not for either of you. The time he showed up at your door and heard yelling and he pretended to be a neighbor to intervene. All the times he held you as you fell asleep nestled against his skin, soft and beautiful and trusting, all things that should have been driven out of you in the QZ. All things you should never have been with him in the first place. 

He swallowed those moments, tried to not let the fear and panic they sparked inside of him take over. The last time he loved someone, they died. The last time he loved someone, it almost killed him. He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t risk it. 

But here he was, at your door again, anyway.

He tried to stop himself from knocking but all it did was make his hand stutter before he did what he always did: wait for you to let him in. 

“Joel?” You opened the door in an oversized t-shirt and boxers, looking groggy. “You’re back.” 

You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him inside, pressing your body against his, burying your face in the hollow of his throat and he let himself breathe you in, remind himself that you were safe. 

“I was so worried about you,” your voice was muffled in the wet fabric of his shirt. “I heard some things from people at the gate and…” 

“The gate?” He frowned, pulling back from you. “The hell were you doin’ down there?” 

You looked at him, your lower lip going between your teeth, fingers twisting on themselves. 

“What. Were you doin’. At the gate.” 

“I heard something at work,” you said quietly. “About a patrol getting overrun by infected and… I wanted to see if there were signs of other people getting hurt, I’m sorry, I couldn’t just sit here and wait for you and not know…” 

“You can’t do shit like that,” he said roughly. “It ain’t safe, your fuckin’ husband is always looking for a reason to make your life hell, he would have me and Tommy killed if he knew about us, you can’t just…” 

“I know.” 

“Then why’d you do it?” He smacked his hand against the tabletop, making you flinch, hating himself for scaring you even for a moment. “I know you fuckin’ know better!” 

“Because I care about you!” You yelled, your voice thick. “Is that such a crime?” 

Joel crumpled at that, shoulders slouching. 

“That’s…” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That ain’t what this is, honey, you know that.” 

“I know,” you said again, voice soft. “I’m not expecting anything from you, Joel, I know better than that. I just… I’m not just going to pretend that you’re nothing to me. Life is too short for that.” 

His heart thudded against his ribs, so hard it felt like a bruise. 

“I can’t…” 

“I know,” you whispered, reaching up and cupping his cheek. “It’s OK. I know.” 

He should have turned to leave then, he was smart enough to know that. But your hand was soft on his skin, your body was warm next to his, your eyes were welcoming and understanding in a way that nothing else had been since he’d lost the only thing that mattered. 

So he kissed you.

It wasn’t something that was soft and romantic, nothing like what you deserved, nothing like how he would have kissed you if he’d known you before. Instead it was fierce, devouring, harsh enough that he knew his stubble must be scratching your skin and he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting more of you. 

You tugged him back toward your bedroom, Joel stepping out of his boots as he went. He dropped his pack on the floor and tugged your shirt up and over your head, casting it aside. He ran his hands over your bared skin, your flesh pebbled where the cold, wet of his shirt touched you. He pulled that off, too, before he could do anything that hurt you, even for a moment. Christ knew you had enough of that behind you, the look on your face when he’d lost control just a minute before already a scar in his mind, adding to the scars on your skin from your marriage he wished he could go back and stop. 

You undressed each other quickly, desperately, and he all but threw you on the bed once you were naked. He followed you there, shedding the last of his clothes before crawling up your body, his finger tracing your slit to spread you open just enough that he could get his thick, hard cock inside. 

He should be more careful with you, he knew that. But he didn’t have the patience and you’d never, even once, asked him to slow down or be gentle. So he pushed himself inside with one sharp, hard stroke, making you gasp and arch beneath him as he groaned at the feeling of your tight cunt. You whimpered as he stilled deep inside, adjusting to how you held him, fighting to keep from coming too quick because you felt too goddamn good but he couldn’t waste it, not this fast. 

“You’re OK,” he panted, his mouth against your shoulder. “You can take it, baby, know you can, take it so well.” 

He felt you nod against him, your hands trembling as they went to his back, holding him close. 

“Just take it,” he said as he started to fuck into you, caving to his baser instincts and letting himself have you the way you seemed so willing to give yourself to him. “Just take it, honey, just let me… let me…” 

Your hips rolled to meet his, your nails digging into his skin. 

“Feels so good, Joel,” you whined against him. “Fuck, I missed you, you feel, you feel, I…” 

He kissed you, swallowing your babbling before you had a chance to complete your thought. He couldn’t hear what he was afraid was coming, a line he couldn’t bring himself to cross. There was so much he couldn’t give to you, so much that he knew you deserved but was too selfish to give you up so you could find it. 

But fuck, did he wish he could give you that. In another time, another place, another reality entirely, he could. He knew that. In some other world, one where humanity wasn’t gone and his daughter was still breathing, he would give you everything. In that world, he would love you. He would open your car door and share inside jokes and care for you in a way no one else could. In that impossible world, you and him lived in a little house with a garden out front and a spare bedroom where Sarah stayed when she came for a visit because she would be an adult now, with a life of her own instead of forever frozen at 14. In that reality, you were his in every way. His ring was on your finger, his roof over your head, his baby in your womb. He wouldn’t need to hide it then, wouldn’t need to tiptoe around FEDRA, wouldn’t need to be afraid of what loving you might mean. He could fuck you until you were full of him, so full that you carried part of him inside of you for months, your body growing and changing with it and then no one would ever question that you were his, fucking his. 

Your pussy drew tight around him as your fingers wound tight in his hair. Your nipples were hard against his chest, the plush of your breasts pressed to his front as your thighs tightened around his hips. 

He pulled his mouth from yours to kiss and suck his way down your neck to your chest, pressing himself deep inside you and letting himself pretend - just for a moment - that the reality he occupied was one where he could have you, really have you. That the two of you were in a cozy bedroom with furniture he built for you with a room a few doors down that you’d already started looking at cribs and changing tables to fill it with. 

“Gonna come,” you panted, your hips stuttering against him as he pressed inside, forcing the head of his cock against the soft, tender place deep within you. “Fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, I’m gonna… I… I…” 

He was so close to his peak that he almost wanted you to say it. He wanted you to say it while he came deep inside you, leaving himself there so it could take, so he could watch you grow his child and take care of you through it, so he could take care of both of you after. Claim you so thoroughly that when you were in the QZ there was no question that you were his, not with his baby inside you and his arm around your shoulders. 

He wanted it. He wanted it so bad that, in that moment with his cock buried inside you as you keened below him, he didn’t care if it fucking killed him. 

Joel came apart when you did, the fluttering of your tight little hole sending him over the edge, the high of nothing else in the world mattering outside of you and the hot clutch of your body swallowing him whole for one glorious moment. 

But, as always happened, he came back down to earth, still held in the cradle of your hips, still breathing the scent of your skin, still lost in the wasteland that was once the world. 

He didn’t kiss you as he pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed next to you, closing his eyes for a moment to keep from looking at you too long. 

“You gotta be more careful,” he said after a moment. 

You were silent long enough that he looked over at you, finding you on your side facing him but staring down at the mattress. 

“I know,” you said eventually. 

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he said, his voice gentle. Or as gentle as he seemed to be able to make it now, anyway. “But you know what happened the last time he thought you were seein’ someone. If killing him would fix it, I would, but I can’t kill every fucking FEDRA guard who’d take it out on you and I’m not gonna be the reason you get hurt.” 

“I know,” you said again, looking at him this time. “But I… I just…” 

“I know,” he said it this time, his stomach twisting. 

You just nodded. 

“You deserve better,” he said eventually. “Shouldn’t let me treat you the way I do.” 

“I don’t mind.” 

“You should,” he snapped and then sighed, staring at the ceiling again. “Sorry for scarin’ you before. When I hit the table. I… I would never…” 

“I know,” you said, more confidently then. He looked back to you, frowning. “I’m not afraid of you, Joel. I know better about that, too.” 

He was silent again, going back to staring at your water-stained ceiling. 

“Should probably take a break,” he said eventually. “Not see each other for a bit.” 

“It wouldn’t change anything,” you said quietly. He frowned, watching you again. “I know myself. I know how I feel. It’s OK. I don’t expect anything from you. Not even this.” 

His eyes searched yours and he let himself try to reach some other version of him on some other plane, one where things were safe and he was in the bed you shared with him in the home you made together. A version where he could be honest with you and it wouldn’t destroy him. 

“I’d give you more if I could,” he said instead. 

You smiled ever so slightly, a gentle curve to your lips. 

“I know,” you said softly. “Believe it or not, I know you, too, Joel.” 

He let himself look at you for a moment, let that terrifying wound at the center of him hurt where he could really feel it, to feel the horror of what letting himself love you would be. 

“It’s OK,” you whispered as you reached out and brushed his curls back, your fingertip grazing the scar at his temple. “I’ll just love you, anyway.” 

He stayed in your bed that night, lying awake as you slept against him, ignoring the scream of panic at the core of him to run while he still could. He knew it couldn’t last. He knew he couldn’t rest like this, not with you this close, not in this awful place with that awful hurt. But he couldn’t leave you either. Not like this. 

“Oh,” he said the next morning when it was still dark so he could slip back to his own apartment before some FEDRA prick was awake to see him leaving your place. “Almost forgot.” 

He pulled a scarf from his pack, the one thing he hadn’t left at home after this run. It was thick, the knit heavy, a color that made your eyes shine. Not that he had pictured you wearing it with those eyes of yours when he’d picked it up. He held it out to you and you frowned, confused, as you took it. 

“Winter is around the corner and you were cold all the time last year,” he said gruffly. “Don’t want you freezin’ to death.” 

You smiled a little, running your fingers over the pattern knit into the yarn. 

“Thank you,” you said, holding it to your chest and looking back to him. “I really needed this, Joel.” 

He just grunted, pulling his pack on and heading for the door. 

“I’m gonna stay away from you for a while,” he said, trying to ignore the pain in his chest at that. “Don’t want anyone catching on.” 

“OK,” you said, eyes searching his before you stepped close to him and slowly, cautiously, pressed your soft, warm lips to his own. “Take care of yourself for me, OK?” 

You said it like you would say I love you. 

“You, too,” he said. He wondered if it sounded the same to you, too. 

 Staying away from you took work. He wanted to see you, be next to you, get lost in you. But he knew where that would lead and he couldn’t let it, not now, not like this. 

So he stayed away for weeks. He stayed away until the first snowfall of the season in Boston and he made an excuse to go stand outside your job. He couldn’t help it. He needed to make sure you were warm and safe so he stood there and watched you leave, his scarf around your neck, You caught his eye with a small smile as you passed a FEDRA guard and he knew, with sinking certainty, he’d be back at your door that night. 

He just couldn’t seem to stay away from you. 

[quadrantadvisor]

DPxDC Danny/Jason Soulmates AU WIP

-

Jason's timer read 044389:21:08, when the display suddenly went dark. 44,389 hours. Five years, 24 days, 13 hours, 21 minutes, and 8 seconds until he was fated to meet his soulmate.

Or not. Because the time stopped.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He did his research, and with the resources at his disposal (namely, a batcomputer,) he knew for a fact that there should be no way to defy the fate of a timer. People had tried. Avoidance, isolation, putting a hit out on your own suspected soulmate. Nothing worked. Trying to delay the inevitable put you on the path to meet it. Sure, there were people who lamented the unfairness of their own situation, who were devastated they never got time with their soulmate, famous deaths on opposite sides of a battle, etc. But soulmates always, always met eachother, face to face.

Not him, though. His soulmate was dead. Five years early.

Bruce didn’t get it. Dick wouldn’t talk about it. Alfred only looked at him with pity in his eyes.

Jason wasn’t sad that he was the only person on the planet who’d never meet his soulmate. He was fucking angry, because it wasn’t fucking fair. It was another person in his life who was supposed to care about him that he’d never get to have.

So when he found out he had a mom, somewhere out there, who he’d never had the chance to meet… he had to go. How could he not?

-

It was Sam who noticed, when it happened. Danny had just finished a stupid fight with Boxy, and he, Sam, and Tucker were finally ready to call it a night. Danny de-transformed and grinned, shaking the thermos proudly. “Gonna get these guys back into the Ghost Zone,” he said, when suddenly-

“Danny!” Sam yelped, and snatched at his arm.

Danny stumbled, nearly dropping his precious cargo. “Whoa, Sam, what-?’ he stopped, looking as she turned over his arm, baring his wrist.

His timer was dark, like people who’s soulmates were dead. The numbers still showed, faintly, but they were stationary. The countdown had stopped.

Ice spread through Danny’s veins, like the cold that rushed through him when he went ghost, but worse, so much worse.

Danny’s ghost form didn’t have a timer, which honestly freaked him out, but as a human it had always behaved completely normally. When he turned back, it would be there, the time having elapsed just the way it was supposed to. It had been so reassuring. He was alive. He’d make it at least five more years, and be able to meet his soulmate, who would hopefully be able to accept him the way he was. He wanted that so badly. He wanted someone beyond his friends to talk to, to know him as a person and a ghost. He wanted to not be afraid anymore.

He’d just passed the five year mark, not that long ago. He’d been so excited to be that much closer to someone so important.

And now something was horribly wrong.

“Dude, that’s jacked up,” Tucker said, noticing the problem with wide eyes.

“Did anything happen today?” Sam asked, her expression hardened with determination. “Did you notice anything weird while you were transformed?”

Danny shook his head. “No, no it- it was running while we were at school, and we’ve been fighting ghosts since then. I don’t know when it would’ve…” Danny could barely make himself speak. “Is it my fault?” he said, almost to himself. “Did I spend too much time as a ghost and it just-”

Sam gripped at his hand. “No, Danny, it isn’t your fault. Whatever the problem is, we’re going to figure it out, okay?”

“Yeah man,” Tucker added, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, maybe your parents can actually help this time? Weird magic science is kinda their thing, right?”

Sam looked less sure, but nodded all the same. “You’re going to meet your soulmate. Okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said, quiet, looking down at the stopped numbers on his wrist.

-

Edit: Added a readmore

[s0ulspen]

husband!sukuna headcanons

a/n: I plan on coming out with a Sukuna!fic very soon…stay tuned! This was kinda hard for me to write because I just genuinely don't see him being super loving.

彡 he 100 percent didn’t marry you out of love in the beginning and most likely didn’t deny it.

彡 was 100 not the best lover at first either

彡 but over time he began to slowly ( I MEAN SLOWLY) fall in love with you.

彡 as the two of you fell more and more in love, he became much more tolerant.

彡 when the two of you get into arguments, he’s usually not one to apologize through his words.

"Are you still irritated, woman?" "What do you think?" "Watch your tone, I was asking because I just purchased your stupid concert tickets." "REALLY?"

彡 he can sound a rude at times but he never truly means it. "Be quiet, woman." "I'm not some meaningless human, I don't get hurt." "Of course, I'm above you."

彡 would probably kill a man who even looks in your direction.

彡 he knew he was in love with you when you weren't intimidated by his true form.

"You don't fear me, human?" "No, Ryo, now can you help me with this?"

"..."

彡 he's really only sweet to you when your asleep because he knows he won't hear the end of it if you're awake.

"I care for you more than you think."

彡 the more time he spends with you the more he thinks about his future.

彡 doesn't tolerate any form of disrespect. "You're an ass-" "Repeat that and you'll be dealt with."

(He's not gonna do anything)

彡 he doesn't know how to work a phone so uraume had to teach him and even they had trouble.

彡 he acts like he absoloutely hates your super sweet compliments or pet names but if you call him anything else he'll ask what's wrong with you.

"Ryomen, What're we eating for dinner?" "With that attitude, you can go hunt for whatever you'd like in the woods for all I care." "What did I do?" "Don't act all confused."

"Baby, I am confused." "Chicken it is...." "Okkkaaaaay??"

彡 he's so awkward when you tell him you love him. "I love you." "The feeling is reciprocated...greatly." "Nevermind, Ryo." "What I mean is-" "You look odd." "Let me speak, woman."

[mawofthemagnetar]

Charbroiled Basilisk

“Run that by me one more time,” Cleo said, rubbing their temples, “You…what?”

“We accidentally made an AI.” Mumbo said sheepishly, “And it says it’s made copies of all of you, besides me and Doc, and is torturing all your copies in the worst ways imaginable. For um. Eternity?” 

Cleo stared at the box Mumbo was talking about. It was a rectangular PC case with a monitor perched on top, a monitor that was showing a pair of angry red eyes. The eyes looked between Mumbo, and Doc, and then back to her. 

The box, Cleo noted, was plugged into the wall. 

“Uh,” Jevin said, tilting his head with a slosh, “So like, far be it from me to tell you guys how to do your jobs. But like, why? Why did you make a machine that did that?” 

“We didn’t!” Doc threw his hands up, “We made the AI to help us design things. I just- we wanted a redstone helper.”

“And then it got really smart really quickly.” Mumbo said awkwardly, twiddling his moustache nervously, “It says it’s perfectly benevolent and only wants to help!”

“Uh-huh.” Cleo said, “‘Benevolent’, is it?” 

“Well, yeah. It’s been spitting out designs for new farms I couldn’t even imagine.” Mumbo said, pointing at the machine. The evil red eyes faded away, and it suddenly showed an image of a farm of some kind, rotating in place. It was spitting out a constant stream of XP onto a waiting player, who looked very happy. 

A nearby printer started to grind and wheeze, Cleo’s eyes following a cable plugged into the box all the way to the emerging paper. Doc fished out the printout, and hummed consideringly. 

“Interesting. Never considered a guardian-based approach to one of these…”

“Doc.” Cleo said, “What was that about this thing torturing copies of us for all eternity?”

 “Oh, uh, that,” Doc said, “Um. The machine says it’s benevolent and only wants what’s best for us, which is why it’s decided that your copies need to suffer an eternity of torment. For um. Not helping in its creation, and slowing down the time it took for this thing to exist?” 

Cleo stared at the box. 

“...So, there’s a fragment of me swirling around in there in abject agony?” Cleo mused, and Jevin hissed some gas out of a hole in his slime in exasperation. 

“Like, I’m no philosopher,” Jevin said, “But that doesn’t sound particularly “benevolent” to me. Like, my idea of a benevolent helper-guy is…honestly, probably Joe. Helps with no thought of reward and doesn’t, uh, want to send me into the freaking torment nexus? Why would something benevolent want to send us to super-hell? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Fair point. I knew you were making this stupid thing, but. This is just dumb.” Cleo groaned. 

“Man, I need a drink,” Jevin said, pulling a bottle of motor oil out of his inventory and popping the top. Jevin shoved the bottle into the slime of his other hand and let the viscous yellow fluid pour into his slime, slowly turning green as it met with the blue. 

“Yeah, I’ll second that. So…to recap, you two decided to build a thing. The thing declared it was a benevolent helper to playerkind, then immediately decided it was also going to moonlight as the new Satan of our own personal digital Hell? Have I got all that correct?” Cleo sighed, and Mumbo and Doc nodded sheepishly. 

“Cool. I mean, not cool, but. Cool.” Jevin sighed. 

“Now, hold on,” Cleo said, “because. How do we know your magic evil box is even telling the truth?” 

“Uh…because it told us so?” Mumbo offered weakly. 

“Yeah, but… Hang on.” Cleo sighed, tapping a message into their comm. 

<ZombieCleo> Cub, how much data storage would it take to store and render a single player’s brain or brain equivalent?

<cubfan135> probably like a petabyte or more

<cubfan135> why

<ZombieCleo> don’t ask

<cubfan135> i see 

<cubfan135> what did doc do this time?

<ZombieCleo> You don’t want to know.

“So, let’s say it’s a petabyte per player,” Cleo mused, looking up from their comm, “So that’s…twenty-six petabytes to render all of us, minus you two, of course.” 

The red eyes were staring at her angrily. 

“Did you guys give your evil box twenty-six petabytes of data storage, by chance?” 

“Um, no? I don’t think so, anyway…” Mumbo said awkwardly, scratching his head. 

“So, odds are, if this thing IS being truthful, then all it’s torturing are a bunch of sock puppet hermits.” Cleo said, gesturing at the computer, “It doesn’t have the data storage, let alone processing power.”

“If that,” Jevin countered, “that thing’s probably got, what, ten terabytes? Optimistically? Dude, it’s probably just sticking pins in a jello cube instead of actually torturing, you know, me.” 

 “And another thing!” Cleo said, “Even assuming you DID give your stupid box enough data storage for all of us, how the hell did it get our player data to start with?” 

“Yeah!” Jevin countered, “It would have had to either get us to submit to a brain scan- which, why would you ever do that if it’s gonna use the scan to torture you? Or like, since I don’t have a brain, find some way to steal our player data. And I feel like Hypno or X or someone would have noticed?” 

“Uh…” Doc scratched his head, “I don’t know.” 

“You reckon it’s lying, mate?” Mumbo asked, and Doc nodded. 

“Probably yeah. So…We can just…ignore it?” 

“Oh no,” Cleo said, shaking their head, “We’re not ignoring anything.” 

“We’re not?” Mumbo asked. 

“Nope!” Cleo said, “We’re not ignoring a damn thing. Because…” 

She and Jevin locked eyes. 

“-Because if there’s even the SLIGHTEST CHANCE that this thing’s locked me and you in a phone booth together for like, three days, then…well. Then it pays.” Jevin nodded with a slop of slime. 

Cleo marched over and grabbed the plug, yanking it out of the wall. The screen momentarily showed a bright red ! and then flashed to a dead black. She picked up the whole unit and walked over to Jevin, who’d punched a one-block hole in the floor and filled it with lava. 

Cleo threw the computer inside, and all four hermits watched as it fizzled away to nothing. 

“And that,” Cleo said, “is how you roast a basilisk.”

[suzukiblu]

Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; weird amnesia Timberkon. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“You can recognize their heartbeats?” Bernard asks incredulously–that is a very creepy and invasive thing to recognize about someone, much less be passively listening to, what the fuck–and then frowns. “Wait, got back from where?” 

“Long story,” Superboy mutters. “Alternate realities were involved. It sucked. But I got back here, and it’s supposed to be right, and there’s people I recognize, but there’s . . . different people, too. And no one here recognizes me. And I thought . . .” 

“That you were either totally insane or just stranded in the wrong reality for no discernable reason with no idea how to find the right one?” Bernard assumes. 

“That, yeah,” Superboy says tightly. “Definitely that.” 

“Good news, I guess, if you are insane, it’s a shared delusion, and if you’re in the wrong reality, so am I,” Bernard says. “Because again, I definitely remember you. And Hawaii. And Superman being dead. And like, all that shit in general. Also you kinda died that one time too? There was a statue, I’m pretty sure. Actually I think there were two.” 

Superboy’s smile is tight and humorless, and he digs his fingers into the inside of his wrist. Bernard has no clue how a dude in such severe and obvious distress can look so fucking good about, like . . . literally everything he’s got going on over there. It’s a lot of “everything”, is all. Superboy is a lot no matter what, obviously, but still. Like, extra a lot. Secret bonus levels of a lot. 

A lot. 

“I mean, there used to be,” Superboy says, and the pained smile he’s wearing turns–bitter, kind of. 

Fuck, Bernard feels so bad for this dude. Like so many levels of so bad. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way but I need to google some shit,” he says as he digs his phone out. Tim is clearly taking his sweet-ass time in the bathroom, and since he isn’t actually in there waiting for Superboy, it’s gotta be a Bat thing, which usually gives him a good fifteen or twenty minutes of fuck-around time before Tim makes it back with the weak excuse du jour. Or, like, three and a half weeks, one very memorable and kinda fucking awful time that Bernard had spent wondering if jumping into the timestream was how vigilantes ghosted you. “And maybe check some forums or something.” 

“I don’t think ‘is this weird dude at the boba shop crazy’ is gonna pop up on Bing, man,” Superboy says, still wearing the same bitter smile. Bernard wonders why he didn’t just go to the Justice League and explain himself to them. Like, they’d probably believe him, right? Or at least they wouldn’t instantly not believe him; they’d check things out or whatever. 

Alternately, though: half-Kryptonian full-telekinetic with Lex Luthor’s DNA and Superman’s face who doesn’t even know if he’s crazy or not.  

So like . . . that seems like an awkward conversation to have with Superman, maybe, Bernard allows. Or just fucking agonizing and terrifying and wildly, wildly likely to end in one of those stupid misunderstanding-based super-fights and, like, maybe also getting drop-kicked into the Phantom Zone because said stupid fight would be against Superman and that is, apparently, what Superman usually does with supervillain Kryptonians. And probably Superboy is having some very understandable issues about getting drop-kicked out of reality right now, if that’s a concern he’s had. Which–the Phantom Zone isn’t the same thing as an alternate reality, as far as Bernard’s aware, but also what the fuck does he know about the Phantom Zone? 

Bernard googles, in quick succession: Superman’s death, the Phantom Zone, and Superboy. He gets a ton of articles and photographs and blog posts with absolutely zero trace of Superboy in a single one of them, a lot of contradicting intel about what the hell the Phantom Zone actually is, and also some blurry candid photos of a ten year-old in ripped jeans and an S-shield hoodie that he’s never seen before in his life. 

. . . so that’s weird, yeah, Bernard observes, blinking down at his phone. 

“Huh,” he says, brow furrowing. “Hey, should I know this kid?” 

“Did you literally just google ‘Superboy’?” Superboy asks, which is notably not an answer to Bernard’s question. 

“Obviously, yeah, the entire internet is in my pocket, why would I not do that,” Bernard replies reasonably, still scrolling through random photos of this completely unrecognizable kid. Said kid continues to look like a total fucking stranger and Bernard continues to have zero clue who he is or why he’s wearing the “S”. Another clone, maybe? Like, an even mini-er mini-Super? Bernard can’t see his face all that clearly in any of the pics, still, but he’s at least got Superman’s coloring, it looks like. 

“Because Tim would give you shit about it, probably, I don’t know,” Superboy lies, because he very obviously does know. Probably better than Bernard does himself, come to think of it, which is kind of a weird thought but also, like, an obviously objectively true one. Superboy’s spent a lot more time with Tim than he has, even having been, like . . . unrealitied and all. 

God, that is still so disturbing a concept, too. 

[gguk-n]

Balancing Act (Daniel Riccardo x Jung Hoseok's manager!Reader)

No face claim. Pictures from Pinterest

Wishing Daniel all the best with his future endeavours 😭😭

Series Masterlist

{Reader's POV}

When I had joined BigHit, I has started working as an assistant to BTS's manager. He was a kind and helpful man, who made transitioning to the job so easy. The boys were also very kind and understanding. It was a blast to work with them honestly. Later, as I gained more experience I was assigned to other groups. I did miss hanging out with the boys; I missed Hobi the most.

After I had stopped working with BTS, that was when I realised that I had a crush on Hoseok. I told myself it was due to the close proximity or the fact that he was just kind, but he was kind to everyone. And I decided to bury those feelings since K-Pop agencies didn't take dating lightly. Even though I barely saw Hobi at this point, my heart would always beat really hard and I would find myself looking for him in common spaces.

Whenever Hobi had individual schedules, I was brought back. The first time I had to work with him after I realised that I love him was nerve wrecking to say the least but Hobi's energy made me feel right at ease and I've never felt so relaxed before. I practically became his personal manager after Hobi started having individual schedules. He was a joy to be around and his energy and laughter was infectious. The tiny crush I had denied having had turned into a full blown infatuation. But, what was I supposed to do when Hobi would smile and sweetly greet me, even going as far to get me coffee. I couldn't not love him.

I was travelling with Hobi for his performances and the final promotion shooting before he was supposed to go for his mandatory military enlistment when I realised I had to tell him. The major reason being that I felt like maybe he liked me. It was the way his eyes would look at me or the way he would softly utter my name. I just felt it in my bones, he liked me. Oh, how wrong I was.

"Hope, congratulations on a successful promotion and preparing so much for ARMY" I said patting his back. "Thanks. I couldn't have done it without you" he laughed his infectious belly laugh. "No no, you are very talented. You could've managed with out me" I insisted. "Nope, my english is so bad, I would've never left my hotel room if not for you" he reasoned. I smiled at him, this was the right moment. "Don't mention it Hobi, just doing my job. I wanted to talk to you about something" I said, it made my tummy rumble and knot up. "Sure" he said turning his full attention on me. I breathed in deeply before saying, "I like you a lot, I've liked you for a while. Will you go out with me?" I asked looking at my feet. I heard Hobi sigh, this wasn't a good thing; "I'm sorry, Manager Y/L/N." he mumbled. The last name hurt. "I've never liked you that way and I'm sorry if I ever gave you the wrong impression. You are a good friend and colleague who I'm grateful to have but I don't feel that way" he apologised. I laughed dryly, "Yeah, it's okay." I sighed trying to hold back tears. "Let's still be friends. I don't want to lose a friend because of my stupid mistake" I croaked out. "You won't. I promise" he said trying to hug me. I walked back. "I have to give the company report on your schedule and stuff. Good luck with the military. I'll see you once you're back" I shouted out backing away. I had tears in my eyes as I turned the corner.

I may have cried myself to sleep for a few days after that but knowing Hoseok was leaving for the military and I wouldn't have to see him for a while made things easier. I knew I needed a change of scenery and pace so I took a few months off and went on a vacation.

I was in Spain when I met Daniel. He was charming, charismatic and easy to get along with. He would make me laugh and had great joy remembering how we met. "Excuse me" I asked tapping the tall man in front of me. He was wearing a hat and sun glasses. "Hi, Nice to meet you. Would you like a photograph or an autograph?" he asked turning around. I was so confused. "No, I just wanted directions. Can you help?" I asked. He tipped his sunglasses down his nose, scanned me up and down, "You are breath taking" he whispered. I felt a blush creep up my face. "Thank you" I mumbled pointing to a name on my phone, "Do you know where this is?" I asked. "Sadly, I don't but my friend does." he said calling his friend 'Carlos', he sounded Spanish when he spoke to me and gave me the directions. I thanked the two men and started walking in the directions when the taller man with an Australian accent ran up to me, "Hey! I'm Daniel and I don't know if this is crazy but you are so pretty and I just can't let you walk away so would you like to go on a date with me?" he asked. "Sorry, I'm trying to get over someone right now" I said apologetically. "Nothing better than a shoulder to lean on as you get over a stupid man" he winked. "Let's have a drink together. You can tell me all about your relationship woes and I will patiently wait for when you are ready to date me" he laughed. "I don't drink with strangers" I pointed out, walking away.

After that, I met him in Austria again. It was as if the stars were aligning and that's when I finally agreed to have coffee with him. He was a great listener and would give good advice. As I spoke to him and got to know him, we did end up on a date, a few weeks after Austria. I was continuing my trip in Europe and he had work in Europe, it seemed. It was only after a few dates, did he tell me that he was a Formula One Driver. I almost didn't believe him until I Googled him. I may have spent way too much of my time watching Daniel Riccardo funny videos and his interviews and his race highlights.

We decided to keep our relationship on the down low for a while since I did have to go back to work after my vacation. The vacation was the best thing I did for myself. Daniel would visit me if he was at a race near by which was many months later since he was in Singapore and Japan but I cherished every moment I got to spend with him. After his season was over, he was in Seoul to spend some of his holidays with me. I loved waking up to Daniel in bed or to a nice cooked meal when I got back from work. He would joke about being my stay at home wife and we would laugh as we enjoyed the meal. We would explore the streets of South Korea and even going on small weekend getaways so I could show Daniel around.

He did return to Australia to spend time with his family but we would constantly be texting each other or on call. After almost a year of dating, Daniel asked me to come to a race of his, specifically Spain since that was the country where we first met. I cleared up my calendar and I was off.

danielricciardo

Liked by y/n.y/l/n and 1,298,032 others

danielriccardo Happy 1 year baby!!🥰🥰I've never been happier than I've been with you!! I love you!!❤️❤️

y/n.y/l/n aww!! You make me the happiest. Love you too babe❤️❤️ landonorris both of you are like the otters that hug each other while floating away.🫢Congratulations btw❤️ maxverstappen1 congratulations to the cute couple❤️Hope you won't forget me Daniel🥲 user7 OMG!! They are literally the same version of each other🥹🥹 user8 I need a boyfriend like Daniel😭😭 user9 The photography skills😘😘 user10 It's so cute!! Congratulations on your 1 year anniversary❤️❤️

y/n.y/l/n

Liked by danielriccardo, uramyhope and 356,930 others

y/n.y/l/n Happy 1 year to the man who never fails to make my heart flutter!!😭😭Thank you for being the best boyfriend ever!!😘😘Love you more than I can explain🥰🥰

danielriccardo you're gonna make me cry.😭Love you most!!❤️❤️ y/bff/user both of you are so cute, I'm feeling very single😭😭 user11 I've known her since she started in BigHit, can't believe I might watch her get married😭 user12 both of them are happy viruses😌😌 user13 cutest couple on and off the grid🥹🥹 user14 Hybe should sign Daniel, he can be their model😏😏 user15 they are making me believe in love🥺🥺

After the Spanish race, I wasn't able to join him any other races due to work until that fateful call; "hi babe" I chirped. "hey" he greeted, his voice heavy. "What happened?" I asked. "Nothing" he hummed. "Don't lie to me" I reprimanded. "Nothing gets past you, does it?" he chuckled. "Nope" I grinned. "Now spill Danny" I prompted. "It's just.... they might be booting me by the next race" he sulked. "What? Are they crazy? How could they do that? Is this allowed? Can I file a complaint?" I rambled. He laughed. "No, and it's okay. It was gonna happen, I had a feeling" he said. "Now I feel bad, I should've taken time off to see my wonderful boyfriend race" I sulked. "It's okay, you can come to Singapore" he pointed out. "yes!! We'll celebrate!! It's your last race in F1 and we're going to go out with a bang" I said already making plans in my head. Daniel smiled at me, "I can't wait"

I flew to Singapore on Thursday; I will always regret not going to more of his races. We had a blast, there was a rumour going around that Daniel was leaving but there was no official announcement so he couldn't say anything. I spent the better half of the weekend consoling Daniel and trying to make the best of the situation. After the race and the interviews, we walked out of the paddock hand in hand, "I'm so proud of you. Being in a sport for 12-13 years and giving it your all. Being smart, talented and wonderful, being one of the best drivers and helping others learn from you all with a smile is hard, in any field let alone something like formula one. Being a friend when you are all competitors is a talent. I love you so much for doing so well" I said, stopping to cup his cheeks and kissing him. "I love you Y/N" he said in tears. "I love you more" I smiled. "No more crying, you are the best driver" I stated. "To you" he corrected. "And that's all that matters Riccardo" I pointed out. "yes it does" he hummed and started walking out hand in hand. "I'm gonna mooch off you now" he laughed. "I will gladly let you mooch off me" I smiled. "Love you Dan" I said taking his hand to my lips and pressing a kiss. "And I love you" he kissed my hand.

We were both saps but we were each others sap. I couldn't have hoped to meet someone better than him and some one who loves me more than him.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

"You need your ACL reconstructed."

Price stared at the doctor as she leafed through the scans of his stupid bloody knee, blinking rapidly as he tried to process just exactly how fucked he was. He was running the calculations and the answer was coming up: significantly.

After it had given out on a recent yomp with Bravo Company, he has given in and skulked into medical like a whipped hound. There was only so much ibuprofen a man could neck with his coffee before it became farcical. His stomach was beginning a small revolt. Eventually, his mind unable to accept what it had just heard, he cleared his throat. "Come again?"

She sighed, running a hand through her neat crop of grey hair. After dealing with his bullshit for nearly twelve years, she had no patience left for it. "You're having surgery John, and I'm signing you off for four weeks after. From there, it'll be six months before you return to the field."

"Not happening." Price pushed off the gurney and did a rather shite job of hiding the wince as his knee gave another unwelcome spasm when his foot hit the floor. He remembered the landing that had finally done it; a routine jaunt through Belgrade. Nothing too taxing. Uneven ground, some loose gravel and a distraction because of static through Comms, and he'd gone arse over tit. Gaz had been amused until he realised Price had been struggling to get back up again.

Fucking embarrassing.

"You can huff and puff as much as you want, captain. My decision's final," she said, emphasising his rank to put his impending tantrum in perspective, and then, for good measure, "also, your cortisol levels are high, which is probably why you're getting a bit soft in the midsection. The time off is needed."

"Olright, Janie, bloody hell, no need to go for the throat." He placed a hand on his belly, prodding the layer of give with a sad sigh. "What the fuck am I meant to do for four weeks?"

"Read, go fishing, binge Netflix, catch up with family. You know, what normal people do for R&R..." She glanced up at him and rolled her eyes at the deep frown on his face. "Stop thinking of ways to bribe and blackmail me. I'm booking the surgery for a week's time."

"A week isn't long enough."

"Tough shit. Lost your appetite recently? Belching like a retired general at a Number 10 dinner?"

Price squinted. "Yeah."

"Congratulations, you gave yourself a stomach ulcer by slamming the ibuprofen like Polos," Janie murmured, turning over her notes to annotate her recommendations. "Four weeks--

"--fockin' hell, come in with a limp and leave in a fockin' body bag--"

"--so that's five weeks enforced leave."

Price opened his mouth to argue the toss but it clicked shut when she raised an eyebrow at him. He knew better than to push his luck. "Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me marm, John. It makes me feel old." She tapped her biro against the clipboard and then gripped it against her stomach, her head tilted, as she considered his miserable sulk. "You need to consider that promotion in the next few years."

"It'll take me outta the field," Price grumbled.

"If you snap something else at the wrong moment, then a bullet's going to take you out of the field. Think it over."

Nikprice Hurt/Comfort?

Yeah, it's Nikprice Hurt/Comfort.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

You know what I would loove to read from you? Pussy Steve (or pussy Bucky? 👀) and virginity/Innocence kink. Just pure smut of shy, inexperienced kitten getting their cunt pounded properly for the first time and cumming stupid. 🫶🏼

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

First, you probably would be interested in this previous fic rec I did for an ask

Second, I can't not think of this part of one of my evanstan drabbles that hinted at virginity kink because...

It's good. It's hot. It's, it's-- It reminds him, suddenly, guttingly, of whispered rumors of dirty, bad men told in private. Words pressed into ears, raising goosebumps, hidden behind cupped hands. Gossip that drips down your spine and pools inside you, wrong but... helplessly intriguing at the same time. Intoxicating. A fly caught in a honey trap. He feels like a dirty, bad man taking--thieving--some poor lady's worn panties and smothering himself in them, burying his face in the tiny, pretty, white-cotton underpants and fantasizing about her body, not her clothes. Picturing, filthily, how sweet and sensitive she'd be. How she'd moan and squeal and take it in a tight fit, pinned down. And as horrifyingly arousing as the nasty, vile comparison is--appealing only with his inhibitions lowered to the fucking ground, stupidly turned on and horny, not in his right state of mind--he can't quit. And, further, he makes it worse. He makes the comparison all the more real as he tilts his head to the head, thrashing side to side for a helpless, breathless moment before settling and pressing his blushing, burning face into Sebastian's pillow. He shamelessly inhales a chestful of his scent and leans that much more into it. He doesn't just rut against Sebastian's shirt as if it's a pillow conveniently held between his legs then. No. It's even more crude. Worse. He wraps Sebastian's worn shirt around his cock and defiles it.

Yeah 🥴🥴

And third... here's pussy Buck losing his virginity (which, again, like in that linked ask for recs, isn't real and doesn't mean shit):

When Bucky imagined losing his virginity, it was primarily a passing idea in the deep private space of his horny, lonely high school brain. But, he was a realist, even back then--and, not to mention, gay--so it wasn't the fantasy of white sheets, red rose petals, and fragrant candles to ward off the total darkness of having the lights off with a long-term boyfriend, ideally supposedly even good-Christian husband. He didn't imagine it slow and good, he imagined it fast and bad.

And he imagined it that way because he imagined it, again and again, with his crush, one of the jocks on the football team he pinned stupidly after who, really, seemed to be a jerk to all the girls he made out with at lame, underage drinking parties that cops would look the other way about 'cause their kid was amongst 'em and then, somehow, he would forget about who that Friday night girl was by Monday. But... he was just so fucking guh.

That jock, just a fucking pretty man who looked so good rolling around in the field, muddy and streaked with grass stains and sweat, pulling up the bottom of his jersey to wipe the drool across his chin from his mouthguard, flashing a strip of taut abs and the faintest trail of hair leading south where Bucky wanted to get. Shamefully, even if he didn't think it would be good. He just wanted.

But.

It didn't happen in high school. Which was probably a good thing, considering how progressive his town was.

It didn't happen in freshman year of college, either, even though Bucky's fantasies took on a whole new life, especially the summer before arriving, thinking about how he was surrounded by so many different men in his dorms and would be showering with them and--

It turns out, college dorms are fucking gross.

So. Not there.

And, slowly, as he slogged through college, Bucky stopped imagining it. It would happen when it would happen, there was no point rushing it or torturing himself by imagining it at every turn. Just enjoy the ride, he told himself, don't get impatient. He kissed boys men, made out, cuddled, and did some over-the-clothes shit in cars and shitty college apartments, but, it just didn't progress all the way.

So, all in all, Bucky is fucking blindsided when it does happen. He hasn't really sat down and thought about losing his virginity in... a long time. He especially hasn't imagined it happening with a hot, older PhD student. But. It does. It happens with Steve Rogers, a PhD student when Bucky's a term or two away from getting his Bachelor's. And, most shockingly, it's good--

"Ahh, ohmygod, aH-!" Bucky moans underneath the man on top of him, sweaty and heavy and pressing him bodily into the mattress, which is a good thing because if he didn't, Bucky thinks he could float away. He didn't think it would feel so good the first time. He thought it would hurt or that, best case scenario, it would be fine, but not good or great because he doesn't know what he likes and he assumed he would be with someone his own age who was also unsure and fumbling and inexperienced, therefore, innocently bad.

He didn't--shit, a wave of heat crashes through Bucky, sticky and intense as Steve keeps going despite his embarrassing sounds of pleasure--he didn't think he would want to slap a hand over his own mouth during his first time because, fuck, it was embarrassing enough when he had to red-faced explain to Steve that he's never done this before, he's 23, it means nothing that he hasn't, but... just looking at Steve? Steve fucks. And, now, he's more embarrassed because he can't stop making sounds.

Breathy, shocked, hot noises that curl out of his gaped-open lips like mewling moans as he has his cunt fucked loose for the very first time. He feels loose. Loose lips, moaning, loose joints, neck limp, and losing timing.

He's so fucked because, yes, literally, Steve's cock is inside him, it's heavier and hotter and thicker in his pussy than he would've ever thought to imagine, but he's also fucked because this feels so good. He gets it. He gets why no one can shut the fuck up about sex. He understands. He's not going to shut up about it. Even as embarrassing as his reaction to it is, he's never going to go without this again.

God.

It feels like a revelation.

It is a revelation.

He wants to do this forever.

This is the only thing that matters to him now.

Sex.

Every time Steve thrusts forward inside him, he gets in so deep. The pressure and friction are so good. The slide is wet but tight. Bucky is so much more sensitive inside than he ever realized.

Jesus Christ, it's laughable now to think that Bucky didn't think he liked penetration that much just an hour ago. An ill-informed opinion based on how it felt when he was touching himself. Having Steve touch him is so entirely different. Bucky almost always just stayed on the outside of his body, playing with his achingly sensitive clit and tracing the folds of his inner and outer lips when it got too much to keep rubbing his clit or to gather up the wetness that would leak out of him for easier circles around his achy, pulsing clit. Whenever he tried to finger himself in earnest, searching to find his own g-spot according to Cosmo's top ten salacious tips for better sex, he just ended up with a crick in his wrist, was frustrated by the fact that it didn't feel that great when he thought it ought to, or being unsure if he was even doing it right in the first place. He didn't know that--

"Oh, ohh," Bucky's eyes roll back in his skull despite all his effort to focus on Steve on top of him. He's muscle, just, everywhere. How he has time for school and living at the gym and charming the pants off Bucky, Bucky does not understand. How else can he be built like a Greek god if he's not always at the gym? He's so fucking handsome, pale and blushing, strong and muscular, nice but dirty. He's everything Bucky never dared to think about, thinking men like Steve were so out of his league.

Steve is here, though, Steve is making him helplessly moan and whine on his cock as he fucks him within an inch of his life in his bed. One of his hands is planted next to Bucky's fanned-out hair restlessly curling across the pillows as he thrashes his head side to side and his other hand is on Bucky's body, tracing the line of his throat, toying with his nipples, finding his hips and squeezing, pawing at his clit to leave his toes curling and using his fingers to slide down, down, down his wet slit and trace where his cock is splitting him open, leaking around the intrusion of him.

He's so big.

Bucky doesn't know how it fits in him.

He doesn't know how big Steve really is, he's got nothing to compare him to, but he just knows that it feels like it's in more than his pussy--Steve's filling his belly and fucking into his throat. That's why Bucky can't breathe. That's fucking it. He's so chokingly full.

And Bucky is having the fucking time of his life.

Choking, sputtering, and writhing as Steve goes at him, buried within him and showing him what he's never known before. Their chests heaving and hitting together, colliding perfectly.

Steve is fucking him so good, his hips rolling smoothly, just hard and deep and fast enough. It's perfectly good, making Bucky really fucking feel every inch of him, clenching, trembling around him in a daze of arousal. Eyes rolled back. Feeling like he can't do anything but take it.

Take it.

Steve's cock is plunging expertly into his wet, squelching cunt, moving to the rhythm of a thudding, window-shaking, whole-body-rattling house-music-style song that Bucky can't hear but shamelessly revels in anyway; Steve's hands caressing his body like he's precious, touching him everywhere and making him sweat like crazy, feeling so much, and filled to overflowing with heated desire; Steve's lips on his, colliding hard and swallowing his sounds down, then smearing hungry kisses across his face to his jaw to bite and suck at his neck, the thin, delicate skin there so much more alive then Bucky ever knew it could be, crackling with want; Steve's hot, honey-dripping words meeting Bucky's sounds of pleasure in the scant few inches on thick, humid air between them, so charged that it's hard to take any oxygen into his lungs, barely breathable, too, too much--

Steve chuckles, amused and pleasantly teasing as he tells Bucky, "you can touch me, too, sweetheart."

He's been doing that all night, coaxing him into participating in his first time more and more. It's active. He's taking but he's also giving. Bucky loves it.

Bucky fucking loves sex.

And, really, Bucky had not realized his hands were just shaking in limp, unsure fists by his sides until Steve's words finally process in his mushy brain. He blinks open his eyes, fighting against the sticky, too-thick lust poured over him, weighing him down, making him slow. Dumber. And for a long moment, the best he can do is arch his back. It feels so rauchy, but he's possessed. Bending. Breaking. His head is dropped completely back against the pillows. His neck couldn't hold the weight of his head if his life depended on it. He... he... he feels like he's moving through molasses, trying to lift his arms and touch Steve.

It's nearly impossible. Bucky is spread so thin, melted into Steve's mattress like a thin layer of marmalade on hot toast.

He's never going to recover.

He gets about halfway into holding his arms up, muscles trembling weakly before Steve takes pity on him and uses his sure, knowledgable grip to loop his arms around his neck. Bucky moans, feeling how feverish and sweat-soaked Steve is--it's not just him. Steve's in it, too. He's here with him. And Bucky uses all of his wimpy strength to push his quivering fingers into the short hairs at the base of Steve's skull, cupping his head and staring foggily into his ravenous eyes. He looks ready to swallow Bucky. Something inside Bucky adores it, preening and pushing his chest forward, feeling big and bold and wanted. Desired, even. It's hot as fuck. Bucky wants to feel like this forever.

"Yeah," Steve rewards him with a groaning word of agreement and a lewd kiss, tonguing him, no, fucking his mouth with his tongue as his cock just fucking keeps at it, grinding, digging, carving into him.

Bucky can't breathe, he can only gasp.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," Steve encourages, "why don't you hold onto me, hmm? I know it feels good--"

Bucky whines. It does. It feels good. It's so good he could cry.

"--and I know 's a lot, so just hold on and touch me a little while I fuck you, yeah? Don't worry about anything else, jus' right here, touch me, lemme in, c'mon, babyy."

Bucky nods uselessly, letting his hands slide down Steve's body, openly adoring and admiring his unreal body, squeezing the meat of his hugely broad shoulders and following his fingers with his eyes, nearly going cross-eyed when--

Oh.

His vision is fucking filled with the overwhelming, gut-punchingly hot vision of Steve's chest. Bucky felt up his chest when they were making out just before this, he knows he has big, tight, high pecs. Part of his unreal, gym-sculpted physique. He didn't--he doesn't know--how was he supposed to know that his pecs would jiggle when he's fucking into him?

"Go on, h-honey," Steve kisses his temple, just a little sloppy as he moans against his skin, "touch 'em," he urges him on, "grab my tits."

Bucky does. He doesn't need fucking brain cells to follow those tempting directions. He just does. He wants to bite Steve's tits and, fuck, he's never had such an aggressive, intense urge before but it doesn't matter. He has no ability to process it. He just feels it.

He wants to bite.

Further--because that's not it, of course, that can't be it--Bucky fucking holds on for dear life, he wraps an arm around Steve's muscular fucking back and lifts himself forward an inch, maybe not even that, clinging to him, shoving his face against Steve's neck, feeling his pulse thunder through him, and smashing his hand tight against Steve's pecs--his tits--and his own heaving chest.

Just that little bit changes the angle, and suddenly, a squeal is ripped out of Bucky.

He has no choice but to cling tighter, curling his legs around the formidable line of Steve's body, needing him even closer, deeper, tighter, more, shoving them together tip to tail. Christ. His body couldn't be hungrier. He needs. He--

He accidentally shoves his clit tight to Steve's pelvis changing the angle, making the hot, hard line of Steve's body rub harshly against his clit with every thrust into his soaking pussy.

"OH!" Bucky's mouth drops open wide, hardly muffled against the junction between Steve's neck and shoulder. His hold, arms and legs wrapped around Steve's body, is like if he were drowning in shark infested waters and someone threw him a life preserver. It's frantic.

Fervent.

Steve doesn't even have to touch him between his legs anymore. His cock can do all the work. And he's free to plaster the huge, heavy hand, not holding himself up against the small of Bucky's back and keep him there. Keep him tight. Keep him close. Keep, keep--

Keep thrusting.

Bucky is fucking losing it. No. He's lost it. Already.

He's squealing, he's hyperventilating, and he's crying. He's crying not because it's so beautiful and emotional like he might've once assumed losing his virginity would be, hell no, it is beautifully filthy with every wet sound of Steve's cock fucking into him and every cry of pleasure from them both, but, instead, tears are prickling his eyes, hot and pressurized behind his squeezed shut eyelids, because it's so fucking good.

He's crying and he's tipping over the edge with Steve inside him and against him and overwhelming him and he's cumming so hard that he can feel it in his teeth.

It's official: Bucky's imagination doesn't hold a candle to reality.

[relaxxattack]

I humbly request your dave nonbinary thoughts, we may not be ready but I want to know, I want to be enlightened

okay so here’s the thing.

dave strider is a closeted and repressed queer boy in 2009.

in the culture at the time (especially on the internet where he basically grew up) "gay" is used as a catch-all for basically all things evil, stupid, and wrong. as kids grow up they learn that— because patriarchal privilege is something you can lose the second you’re not performing your masculinity to an insane degree— being gay makes you not a real man. being gay means you’re an effeminate little freak, a subversion, a pervert. something to be scorned and taught a lesson. which is terrifying to these kids.

on top of all this, dave is being abused daily in the name of becoming a hero (a real man). his ultimate example of heroism is a hypermasculine freak who physically, mentally, and sexually abuses him. of course dave doesn’t want to do introspection into the idea of liking men. being a man is a burdenous ideal, and the sexuality of men is something that has been consistently used to harm him.

that’s where we come to the meteor trip. after three years of humanity being dead, dave obviously goes through a lot of introspection about stuff he’d previously been repressing. dave seems to be of the opinion that because earth is gone, a lot of those restrictive social conventions should be gone as well— especially things like toxic masculinity and gayness as a complete “other” that you have to “turn” to; he claims (correctly) that a lot of these restrictive social ideas are imaginary lines built by prejudice.

so, dave does not subscribe to the idea of hard labels.

it’s important for him to reclaim the idea of gayness, of course. dave has been agonizing over that for the entirety of the comic. his own sexuality is something that terrifies him, to the point where he cannot even manage to date women he actually likes. even if he really is truthfully interested in women, he cannot really handle that until he’s finally come to terms with himself as “gay”. (which is why i don’t think dave would use the term bisexual. even if he does know what that means, that’s not the word he’s been terrified of embracing for the past 16 years. dave strider is gay. his entire arc revolves around accepting this.)

but i think if dave was thinking about gender as much as he was contemplating sexuality on that trip, he would come to a similar conclusion about labels. and besides, masculinity isn’t exactly something that he’s had a positive relationship with.

this is why i think he’d be some form of nonbinary or agender. dave calls himself gay because of his hard-earned reclamation of that word, not specifically because he is never interested in women. i think if he were to call himself a guy, it would be along those same lines.

(i could also go on a tangent about dave’s existence as a hussie self insert and his arc and dialogue with these concepts as a reflection of someone who eventually came out as agender, but this post is long enough as it is)

basically, gay nonbinary dave strider. he’s real.

[flamedraco]

I want to rant about them. Buckle in, this is a long rant.

I want to just say that I love TNT Duo. Just as a whole. In whatever form they take. These stupid little men and their stupid little rivalries and tension.

I am not a "DSMP" fan in most senses of the term. I never really got into the story all that much (though the lore was cool and more well thought out than most people give it credit for) and there wasn't much to really keep me interested. But these two characters. These two.

shakes them

I love them. I love how Wilbur is emotionally unstable even on his best days and his entire arc of going from a leader that others looked up to slowly devolved into a man driven mad by his own legacy. Writing Arsonist's Waltz made me really take a long look at his character and how I wanted to write him in that fic and it really made me think about how young the character must've been when he died and how tragic that is. I think about him a lot. He's my favorite blorbo to torture for a reason he's the perfect character for tormenting really. And it's so easy to write him with a strained relationship with his family, seeing how Phil did the bare minimum for him and his mother is either a Fridge or The Goddess of Death depending on how you interpret the lore because personally I don't see either as being wrong. Or him being married to a fish (Sally go brrrrr). Or canonically being the one to give birth to Fundy. And the idea that he was usually such a doting father but the second Fundy needed him most he was just gone and the complications that brings to their relationship. I love him and how it's so easy to either make him just a guy or some eldritch FUCK. I can make him BIRD. I can make him FREAKY and INHUMAN and I love to torment him.

And then Quackity. Fuck let me talk about Quackity. This is the BEST EXAMPLE of a FALLEN HERO character I have EVER SEEN in my LIFE. And if you know me you know I am WEAK for Fallen Hero shit.

C'mere shrike bitch we're talking about you now!

(just picture me grabbing him by the back of his stupid little button up and holding him like that, I've scruffed his dumbass)

This FUCKER went from being one of the most goofy, joking, just fucking around and having a good time person, to one of the most well thought out and interesting character arcs in the ENTIRE SMP if you ask me. This man went VILLAIN no matter how you want to slice it and that idea of someone who GENIUNELY tried to see the BEST in others deciding "fuck it, I've had enough of this" is just. The best kind of Fallen Hero to me. I love his entire casino theme. Gambling is one of my favorite aesthetics, and I love how when I came into this fandom despite the overwhelming amount of Duck Q stuff I found I managed to find ONE PERSON who made SHRIKE QUACKITY and it was SO PERFECT FOR HIM! Like there's nothing wrong with Duck Q and I recognize why that's the most common thing in the fandom because obviously the fucker's name is QUACKity and he has his whole thing with ducks but like. Shrike Q tho. The leader of the Butcher Army being a Butcher Bird. One of the most violent songbird species known for brutal kill methods and eating other birds being reflected in the man who ATE THE FUCKING HEART OF HIS EX. Like C'MON. (Yes other birds will eat other birds all the time but I'd like you to point me at another songbird species that has the absolute BALLS to attack something so much bigger than them) ((seen a video of what I think was a loggerhead shrike attacking a duck once)) (((though if you can find more aggressive songbirds like this I would LOVE to see them and learn about them))) ((((FUCK I LOVE BIRDS)))) It's perfect. I don't care. I love him. I love him and his Loggerhead/Northern Tendencies.

I love him for all the ways he didn't START violent and cruel but BECAME that way because he felt like he HAD TO. His arc is SO GOOD. The way he manipulated others he perceived as being "forgotten" like him to try and join him. I just. This man. This man. I'm going to shake him. I'm going to put him in a jar in the /affectionate way.

And then THEM TOGETHER. There is so much APPEAL to this ship in how you can write their dynamic in any way you want. From the more playful early days of the SMP where they were clearly friends and enjoyed each other's company to those stolen tense moments of Pogtopia to the eventual EVERYTHING that was LAS NEVADAS. You can write them on some of the best kind of healing arcs, with the idea that no matter what you did or who you were that you can still find love and forgiveness with the right person. You can have them heal together and learn to love again after so much tragedy. Or you can go down the route of making them ABSOLUTELY tearing each other APART and making each other WORSE. They can be absolute BASTARDS to each other but keep coming back to each other because they are the only two people on the server that have seen SO MUCH of the other person and the paths they went down.

These two characters just. Scream a level of UNDERSTANDING with each other that they wouldn't GET with other CHARACTERS.

And can I talk about how flexible they both are when it comes to AUs? I'm going to talk about them in AUs. They are FASCINATING TO ME in AUs. HEAR ME OUT OKAY!

So as someone who's been in a lot of fandoms there's a keen difference between being into a fandom for the content itself of the world, and being there for a specific character or groups of characters. I was into BNHA because of the lore of the world, not really an attachment to the characters themselves even if I did love them. Persona 5 was driven, again, by a love for the world and also the aesthetic of the game itself (and also a bit of the characters, I'll admit they changed my brain chemistry a little). Danganronpa, in contrast, was something I got into for the driving force of the characters and the murder mystery aspects. Assassination Classroom, obviously more character driven. Fairytail, also more character driven than anything else.

I got into DSMP specifically because of TNT Duo and my friend introducing me to them. But I've discovered something interesting about TNT Duo and why my hyperfixation over them has been lasting for so much longer.

Because they're easier to pry out of their world than other characters are. Which is why I was so surprised when I found so much more Canon Divergence AUs and less AUs in the sense of other universes. Like when I came to this fandom there was: No flower shop AUs, maybe a single coffee shop AU or two, not a single dragon or naga AU, and maybe one Siren AU. And the rest of it was mostly canon divergence! Which felt weird to me because these two feel so adaptive to other AUs you put them in!

While other characters feel, in some regards, tied to their original universe, these two don't feel as heavily weaved into their world. When I try to take them out it doesn't feel like I'm ripping them out and damaging them as I do. I don't feel tearing seams or fabric ripping, they just kinda...pop out. Which let's me take them and throw them into any roles I want, any AUs I want, and what I've noticed is that people do this a LOT with SBI and that they don't feel tied to the universe they originated from either. And I feel like that's in some part due to how the characters have lore from previous SMPs, previous worlds, previous experiences, and even future ones where the characters flow and adapt to fit whatever situation they're put into.

Some people might argue that I'm misrepresenting the characters in my fics or characterize them differently from the original source material, but that's because these are characters heavily formed around their experiences! Which makes them SO COOL for AUs! Because obviously the experiences are going to be different in an AU versus the source material! Making them a superhero or supervillain isn't the same experience as starting a country from the ground up! Making them a prince or king is different from elections and surviving from the land. Or dying and getting revived. Or overcorrecting into becoming a villain so nobody can ever hurt you again. AUs bring different experiences and that's why the characters are so fascinating to put in different AUs. And obviously some characteristics will carry over, but it's up to an author to decide what they carry over from the source material. Usually I carry over Wilbur being related to Phil, Techno, Tommy, Kristin, and sometimes I'll carry over Phil and Kristin's divinity which sometimes makes Wilbur an angel or demigod. Some authors usually carry over his mental instability, I like carrying over his sense of individuality. I like that he's stubborn, good at leading but not always enjoying it, yet always having the qualities for it. For Q? I like to carry over his general gambling aesthetic because I write mostly Las Nevadas Q since that's kinda who I know best out of all of Quackity's characterizations in the DSMP. Which means I write him as a manipulative little shit most of the time, who sometimes has second thoughts but usually pushes through for what he sees as the best outcome. And for their relationship usually what I carry over is this sense of tension or opposition between them. Hero/Villain, Angel/Demon, Human/Fae, Hunter/Vampire. This sense that they are on opposite sides, but not so different from each other when they look deeper than surface levels and titles.

They are such interesting characters. And I love them so much. They give me so much brainrot. So many ideas because they can just. Go anywhere I throw them!

I think I'll write more about them later. How I like to characterize them based on what I know about them from DSMP. Maybe rant more about why I think Q is definitely a shrike and that Magpie Wilbur is the only correct option. I feel like talking about them. I want to talk about them more.

Talk to me about them. I like hearing other people's thoughts about these fuckers.

[janetbrown711]

If I Fail You

Chapter 2: No More Birthdays

Now fugitives from the celestial realm, MK and his friends and family set out to find the five color stones and save the universe.

Except that he's immediately swept away by his mentor, leaving said friends and family behind, leaving them to wonder and worry about what's wrong with him. Oh, and also climb a volcano with a four-month-old. But that should be easy enough, right? Right...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Ao3 Link

Pigsy didn’t sleep a single moment the entire ride out of the city to the middle of nowhere, watching MK and Li Na with a tight, anxious feeling in his chest that wouldn’t go away. Even when Tang, Li Na and even MK managed to fall asleep, Pigsy stayed up silently, watching and waiting. Of course, they were never asleep for too long, especially MK, but Pigsy felt it extremely necessary for him to be alert and on guard at all times.

It was something he seemed to share with the Monkey King too, as he also didn't close his eyes for even a second in the vehicle. Of course, it was likely that immortals like him didn't need sleep, but Pigsy could recognize the specific distant look in his eyes any day.

They didn't talk, though. Almost no one ever did, except when Li Na would wake up and everyone would ask if everything was okay and if they needed to stop and yadda yadda. Pigsy appreciated their worry, but Li Na was his responsibility and he could manage just fine. Everyone else needed to just sit back and focus on themselves.

It… wasn't easy though, and sometimes he was tempted to ask someone else to get her to stop crying for five goddamn seconds. But at the same time, he knew she was probably just scared since she hadn't ever really been in a car or car seat before, and to be stuck for hours and hours had to be uncomfortable. Sometimes he thought about just putting her into the carrier again to keep her close and happy, but knew if the car was attacked in any kind of way, she needed to be in the seat. Unfortunately, four-month-olds can't really understand that, so her uncomfortable cries could last for hours, and all Pigsy could do was try and stroke her cheek and remind her of her blanket and wish for the best, shoving his frustration and temperament as far down his throat as possible.

Happy. Safe. Cared for. That's all he wanted for his family, but it just kept getting harder and harder and harder– was it too much to ask for a moment's peace? A day where he wasn't relaxing under false pretenses, but knew for an undeniable fact that everyone was okay and fine? Or would that somehow destroy the world because it was against the rules or whatever? Bah, to hell with the whole thing, honestly. What's the point of it all if things can't ju–

“Pigsy..?” Tang groaned to life from the other side of the car seat. “Hon, you look like you haven't slept a bit.”

“M'fine, Tang. Just have to keep an eye out,” Pigsy was quick to wave off, checking on Li Na as she stretched sleepily under her blanket.

Tang chuckled, reaching a tired hand to Li Na's face and stroking her cheek. “Hi, bao bao… you certainly woke up a lot,” he smiled as she started to whimper. “Got scared, didn't you? Don't worry, we're here, everything is just fine, you're okay with us, Li Na.”

Pigsy hummed before his eyes landed on MK as he too stirred with the sunrise, his head rolling away from Mei’s shoulder.

“Ugh… sunrise already?” his son grumbled, trying to bury his face in Mei’s arm, but Mei shook him off.

“Damn, Monkey Man. Maybe you woke up but not all of us have,” Mei scolded, keeping her eyes shut.

“Rise and shine, everyone! We– uh– have some planning we need to discuss,” Sandy chuckled nervously from the driver's seat.

“Ughhhhhh– curse this stupid universe,” MK groaned, once again trying to bury his head in Mei's arm, but the dragon girl pushed him completely away and onto the window.

“Sorry bud, but he's right, we got some explaining to do,” Wukong sighed.

“Right, yeah. Just one apocalypse after the next,” MK huffed, leaning against the window solemnly, making Pigsy wince.

“But you said there was a way to fix this, right, little man?” Sandy tried his best to lighten the mood.

“Right, yeah, something about… stones? Or something like that?” Mei rubbed her eyes, finally giving up on going back to sleep.

“Five color stones,” the monkey king corrected.

Tang perked up at that. “The stones that the goddess Nuwa used to mend the heavens? I didn’t think they were real!” He looked at Pigsy with such a stupid look of amazement it made the pig chuckle.

“Mhm, they are! They’re just hidden, and guarded, and we have no idea where to find them, aha,” MK laughed nervously.

“What? Not even a little?” Pigsy asked, mostly looking at Wukong, who still stared out his window.

“No–! I mean– it’s fine because we’re just gonna ask someone who does! Nuwa!” MK quickly flipped to a sketch he’d drawn of her earlier.

“Ooo, yeah! She’s totally gotta have a temple we could go to, right?” Mei was instantly on board, though Pigsy still had his skepticism.

“Oh– yeah, at the Burning Mountain.” Wukong finally looked away to give them a smile.

“Wait– what?! Nononono– we’re not going to the burning mountain, not with Li Na, we have to think of anywhere else,” Tang instantly protested.

Wukong gave a glance to the back and shrugged. “Don’t really have a choice here, man. We’re kind of on a time crunch.”

“I-I know that! I just– I don’t need her facing the Fiery Beasts from ‘Past Calamities’ that guard the temple. She’s way too young for ‘trials by fire’– especially literal ones,” Tang looked at Pigsy anxiously.

“Yeah, I gotta say I agree here.” Pigsy glanced down at his daughter, who was reaching her stubby little arms for him. He met her reach with his hand, allowing her to grasp a finger before he looked back to Wukong. “Are you one thousand percent sure there’s no alternative here?”

“Unfortunately yes, I’m sure,” Wukong glanced down at the carrier too, before going back to the window.

“Right, of course,” Pigsy sighed, not sure why/how that managed to make him feel worse since it was exactly what he expected.

“Don’t worry, dad. I can keep her plenty safe,” MK assured with a tired smile.

“No, kid, it’s okay, me and Tang got this, it’ll be okay,” Pigsy gave a similar smile back.

MK nodded slowly before turning back around, meanwhile Tang gave him a long, anxious stare.

Pigsy chewed his cheek, looking down at Li Na instead of his husband. “She’ll be okay,” he whispered. “With your shield and Sandy’s strength, she’ll be okay.”

“Babies aren’t even supposed to be outside in temperatures over 32,” Tang countered.

“Human babies. Demon babies do better in the heat,” Pigsy tried waving off his own anxiety.

Tang gave an unamused look. “You do know she is still half human, right?”

Pigsy’s eye twitched. “Of course I know that, Tang, but do you see a goddamn alternative laying around here? No! So just– stop. I'll find a way to make it work, it’ll be fine,” he whisper-yelled, startling his husband.

“Pigsy–”

“Just stop, Tang. We’ll figure this out. We always have to,” Pigsy closed his eyes, tiredly letting Li Na stick his finger in her mouth.

Tang didn't say anything, which Pigsy let be. However, after a moment the chef was startled when he felt Tang pulling him closer and trying to rest his head on his shoulder.

Pigsy sighed and kissed his head. “We’ll be okay.”

“We’ll be okay,” Tang repeated, nuzzling as close as he could.

Pigsy kept his head atop Tang's for the rest of the ride.

The following hours were filled with chatter from MK and Mei, and a bit of Tang, as they talked and asked for details about the Burning Mountain and how it was different from the Flaming Mountains and such. Pigsy mostly tuned it out, keeping an eye out for any danger, and trying his best to fulfill Li Na's needs when they arose (though everyone agreed even if the world was ending, the car was stopping for diaper changes). She just about screeched in protest every time she was put back into the car seat, and whenever there was a bump in the road, and also whenever Pigsy or Tang’s hand stopped touching her, or whenever she wasn’t picked up for feeding. While incredibly frustrating, it was also probably unequivocally the worst day of the infant's life and she had zero communication skills or coping mechanisms, so she certainly had everyone’s sympathy. Besides, they still had her blanket and after ten minutes, she'd usually tire herself out. Granted, those ten minutes could feel like an eternity to the rest of the passengers, but it wasn't like there was anything they could do.

After about three hours, they arrived at the flaming mountain and Li Na was back in the carrier with Pigsy, to everyone’s relief.

However, the relief was short lived, as the Flaming Mountain certainly lived up to its name, while also having a shit ton of winding and perilous staircases to boot.

“I think my ankles hurt just looking at this thing,” Tang joked, elbowing Pigsy to try and get him to laugh too, but the pit in Pigsy’s stomach was far too deep for that.

“We’re seriously going to have to climb all that? Noooooooooooooooo,” MK groaned, slumping his head down.

“Bah, ‘Ol Alpine’ Sandy is good to go!” Sandy grinned, pulling out some of his rock climbing gear from his “emergency adventure” backpack. “We’ll be at the top in no time!”

“You know, I think there’s someone you’re forgettin’ here,” Pigsy sniped, making Sandy blush with embarrassment.

“Actually– that gives me an idea,” Tang snapped his fingers, summoning (and promptly spinning around) his khakkhara.

Pigsy sighed a massive breath of relief, glad his daughter wouldn’t actually have to face all that fire and lava. However, the feeling was incredibly short lived when he saw Wukong grab the staff with a guilty expression on his face.

“Yeahhhhhh, um, that’s gonna be a no-go, jangles,” he grimaced. “We can’t have that kind of big mystic energy or else–” “–Or else it’ll count as cheating! And we can’t fail the Trial By Fire!” MK interrupted, looking at the mountain with intensity.

“Wha– Kid, I’m pretty sure the ‘Trial By Fire’ is just a metaphor really, I’m sure the mountain ain’t testing you, right guys?” Pigsy glanced around the group, each having varied levels of one-sound responses.

“Yeah, gotta agree, bud. There’s no trial, we just can’t use magic because Li Jing will track us,” Wukong explained fully, glancing at Pigsy briefly.

Great.

“No matter, this mountain is going down,” MK shook his fist at it with determination.

Before Pigsy could even chuckle, Wukong wrapped his tail around his son and picked him up. “Or we’re going up! Catch ya at the top!” The monkey cheered, summoning his cloud and flying off.

“Wait–! MK–!” Pigsy called, but they were already nothing more than a blip on the horizon.

“Man, c'mon! Why doesn't his stupid cloud count as magic?” Mei kicked a rock and crossed her arms.

“Well, technically it's more of a ‘technique’ than a spell– plus the cloud is more like a kind of companion? I don't know– everything gets so mixed up with him,” Tang shook his head.

“UGH, fine, I guess we’re taking the hard way without MK, whatever,” Mei huffed and started going to the mountain.

Pigsy was going to follow, but his feet were suddenly glued to the ground as his eyes fell down to his daughter, who was looking up at him with big, innocent, helpless eyes.

“Pigsy? Everything alright?” Tang noticed his stance.

“No, I-I… I can’t take her, I can't climb that good, but we need to go after MK– Sandy,” Pigsy immediately turned to his friend, who looked down in confusion. “Sandy, you need to take her.”

“Oh-! Are you sure? She seems pretty cozy,” Sandy asked, smile soft and encouraging (or was at least supposed to be).

“You got more experience with this stuff, you can keep her safe,” Pigsy instantly nodded.

Sandy’s smile melted before he nodded and quickly got out a blanket from his backpack to use as a wrap while Pigsy removed his daughter from the carrier. This confused the infant, who instantly started squirming and whining, trying to grab Pigsy’s shirt with her tiny fists.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re just going with your yifu Sandy, it’s okay,” Pigsy tried assuring, but she still kept reaching and wriggling until Sandy was ready for her and the trade off was made– to which she started crying.

“Aw, hey now, it’s okay Little Piggy, good ol’ Sandy's got you,” the river demon assured, carefully wrapping her nice and snug to his chest, where she still protested, although less. Mo seemed to notice her upset mood and tried tapping her with a paw, but it didn’t help much either as she still kicked and cried.

The scene made Pigsy's chest tighten, but he shoved those feelings deep down in favor of putting his carrier in the diaper bag so they could get moving.

“Pigsy, are you sure you’re okay with this?” Tang whispered, grabbing Pigsy’s arm.

“Yes. We have to go after MK, and Sandy’s plenty capable,” Pigsy argued, glancing as the demon in question started stroking Li Na’s forehead as the cries turned to whimpers as she looked up at him.

Tang looked too. “Alright… if you’re sure, I am too.”

Pigsy’s chest tightened further, but he took his husband’s hand and started up the steps anyways, Sandy following and Mei quickly taking the lead.

After a quarter of the way into the first staircase, Sandy managed to finally soothe Li Na enough to stop crying, which was a huge relief. However, all two seconds of silence was apparently too much for Mei, as she felt the need to start complaining.

“Man… Stupid Wukong powers– ‘non-mystical clouds’– that’s total bullshit,” she puffed, kicking the step in front of her.

“You’re telling me,” Tang huffed, already starting to wince at each step on his left foot.

Pigsy chuckled and gave his husband a glance. However, that was a mistake if ever there was one, because the moment Tang noticed, he immediately hammed it up.

“Pigsy, darling, would you mind carrying me the rest of these steps?” His husband batted his eyelashes.

“In your dreams,” Pigsy rolled his eyes, trying to keep his eyes forward.

“Awww, c'mon, don't you looooove me?” Tang continued, wrapping his arm around Pigsy's.

“Keep this up and we'll see,” The chef gave Tang's arm a pat, making the scholar quickly swipe it away.

“Well, I never– we have a baby together and this is how you treat me? Oh my breaking heart,” Tang swooned dramatically.

“Oh, you mean the baby I had to carry for eight and a half months?” Pigsy raised an eyebrow. “What, you think that wasn't good enough and now I gotta carry you too?”

“Wha–? I don't mean it like that, I just– you know– with the–” Tang sputtered, meanwhile Mei cackled with laughter ahead.

Tang huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “Having fun now, are you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mei grinned, spinning around and climbing the stairs backwards. “Your gross couple banter turned roasting is much more entertaining than thinking about how stupid it is Wukong just zipped MK up the mountain.”

“Hey now, hiking can be a very meditative form of exercise,” Sandy spoke up from the back.

All three other hikers gave him a look.

“...Okay, it might not be for everyone– but still! Introspection and being in nature is a good thing that can help us reconnect with ourselves,” Sandy argued.

“Rrrright,” Mei turned back around. “Well if that's true then it's a damn shame MK's missing out on all this introspection then.”

“Now that I agree with,” Sandy said, his tone making Pigsy's ears perk a little.

“What do you mean?” Pigsy glanced back.

Sandy looked away, seeming a tad embarrassed. “Well, I mean– I just think the kid needs a break, you know? Like we talked about,” he scratched his neck, and Mo meowed in agreement from his shoulder.

“Oh, right, yeah– he wasn't actually sleeping when we were all hanging, was he?” Mei asked.

“No, probably not,” Pigsy sighed and closed his eyes briefly.

“Yeesh…” Mei winced. “He's really been working himself to the bone lately, hasn't he?”

“Oh yeah.” Pigsy bit his cheek.

“But it'll be alright, we'll get the universe in tip-top shape in no time,” Sandy smiled empathetically. “Then he can get all the rest he needs.”

“Unless the universe throws another disaster our way,” Tang muttered.

“Hey now, let's try and think positively here. Once we get the stones and fix the universe, everything will be just fine,” Sandy encouraged, making Pigsy grunt out of habitual disgust. The chef could feel his friends gaze on the back of his neck, but the pig ignored it in favor of continuing up the never-ending steps.

“Well… uh… anyways… anyone know any hiking games we can play, or something to pass the time? This is… a lot of stairs,” Mei said, reality probably starting to hit her.

“Oh, I know plenty! We can do I Spy, 100 Bottles of Beer, 20 questions, bird watching, the alphabet game, or some kind of memory game!” Sandy cheered, making Pigsy ponder if throwing himself into lava would be less painful.

However, the pig kept his mouth shut since it was at the very least a distraction from worrying about MK. Plus, Li Na seemed to be having fun with it too, laughing along with every song or silly voice Sandy did. Despite his begrudgingly acceptance though, he felt overwhelmed with relief when they finally reached the first tread in the staircase and they could all rest a moment.

“Oh… my god… I think my legs… are gonna fall off,” Mei wheeled before she collapsed to the ground. “How many more staircases do we got?”

“Trust me, Mei, you don't wanna know,” Tang warned, sitting down with a wince.

Pigsy noticed that and immediately took action to start massaging Tang's ankles, which got him a pained smile in return.

“Haha… yeah… we got a long day ahead of us, but pacing ourselves is everything! So we're gonna take a nice, long break to drink some water, eat some granola, and take it easy,” Sandy instructed, removing his massive backpack while Li Na started to wiggle and whine. “Ope-! Right after we get this little one settled too.”

Pigsy naturally perked up, watching carefully as Sandy undid his wrap and freed the now crying infant. Pigsy now recognized it was her hungry cry, and so instantly got out her bottle and formula– before realizing he had no water or way to heat it up safely. Granted, it didn't have to be warm, but Li Na was in a phase right now where she refused it cold or even room temperature. Then again, this place was boiling hot, so… maybe it would work..?

“Oh dip, snack time?” Mei asked the frozen pig.

“Y-yeah, I just– um…” Pigsy stared down at his hands.

“Oh-! Here, I can make it for you if we trade,” Sandy offered, and they swapped almost instantly.

“Hey, hey, it's okay Li Na, it's okay– I know it's hot and you're hungry– but we have milk, you'll be okay,” Pigsy tried shushing her, which seemed to actually work, her little body relaxing ever-so-slightly against Pigsy's chest.

Tang hummed with a tired smile behind him, resting his head on his husband's shoulder before stroking Li Na's cheek.

“Oughhhh, you guys are so stupid cute– even when she's crying! How is this even legal?” Mei doted on her.

Sandy chuckled. “Maybe one day you'll have one of your own and maybe then it'll be fair,” he said, measuring the powder with the scoop while Mo made his way over to the girl.

“But right now it's not! And MK's not even here–” Mei suddenly stopped herself and started petting Mo. “It’s not fair.”

Pigsy winced at the mention of MK, which made Tang sit up. “You feeling okay, hon?”

“M'fine, just–” Pigsy sighed. “I'm just tired.”

Sandy gave his friend a look of pity before offering the bottle. “This will help her stop at least.”

Pigsy took it, despite accurately predicting Li Na wouldn't like it, kicking it away and wailing loudly in protest.

“What? Is she not hungry?” Tang asked, making Pigsy's eye twitch.

“Of course she's hungry, Tang, it just ain’t warm enough for her,” he sighed heavily.

Tang gave an exasperated sigh as well. “As if being on a flaming mountain isn’t good enough for her.”

“Oh, well– I, uh… I might be able to warm it up, if you want,” Mei offered, still stroking Mo’s chin as he purred.

Pigsy bit his cheek, uncertain but ultimately deciding it was worth a shot before handing the bottle over. The girl took the bottle in one hand, trying to start a fire in the other. However, it didn’t seem to be working for once, causing Mei’s frustration to rise with each failed snap.

“C’mon stupid flame, just fucking light already,” she cursed, making Pigsy and Tang exchange a glance.

Sandy sensed the tension “Mei, you don’t have to do this, I’m sure we can think of something else–”

“No! I can do this! I just gotta–” Mei snapped her fingers once again, and this time a massive green flame shot up. “Shit–!” She cursed, instantly dropping the bottle to the ground (thankfully causing the flame to die out too). “S-sorry– sorry, I can do it– I have it all under control, it’s fine, I just–”

“Mei, it’s okay, we can figure something else out,” Sandy insisted, but Mei just picked up the bottle and started walking up the stairs again to a nearby stream of lava.

“Mei–! Wait! Be careful!” Tang instantly stood and called out to her, but the girl didn’t listen, continuing to walk until she was barely away from the melted rock, where she simply crouched down and held the bottle above.

Pigsy stayed sitting on the ground, semi-trapped by the still-screaming infant in his arms, but he watched with an immense hollow feeling in his chest. Mei was in trouble, MK was in trouble, Li Na was in trouble– but again there wasn’t a single thing he could do– why did he call himself a dad again?

Mei came back in not too long– though she smelt a lot more like smoke and had soot stains all over her white jeans, but she still handed over the bottle with a nearly uncanny grin. “Here you go, Piggy.”

Pigsy looked at her. “Mei, what is this? What are you doing?”

Mei scoffed. “What are any of us doing? Climbing a stupid mountain to get to MK,” she retorted, crossing her arms and looking up, while Pigsy just shook his head and tried cleaning off the bottle before finally giving it to Li Na.

However, the head shake just set her off again. “Ugh, we're going too slow– I have to get to MK before something happens. I'll catch you at the top,” Mei waved them off and bounded up the stairs once more.

“Mei, hold on–” Sandy quickly grabbed his bag once more and went to go after her, before seeming to remember there were other people there.

He looked at them, then back up at the stairs, before backing down. “She just needs some space for now, I'm sure,” he said, though Pigsy wasn't sure his friend actually believed that.

“This is… really bad, isn't it?” Tang laughed nervously, looking at both the chef and Sandy.

“We can fix this, I know we can. We just… need to get up this mountain,” Sandy's cheerful disposition faltered ever-so-slightly.

“And then what?” Pigsy scoffed. “For all we know, Mei's right and while we're stuck here some destiny bullshit is happening. Hell, by the time we get there, I bet MK is just going to be even worse,” he spat, looking away bitterly.

“Pigsy–” Tang tried placing a hand on his shoulder, but the chef shook it away– which he instantly regretted when it made Li Na whine.

“Sorry, sorry– I just–...” Pigsy glanced at Tang before closing his eyes. “I know there's nothing we can't get through together… but when his ‘destiny’ or mentor keeps isolatin’ him, I just… I just don't know what to do,” Pigsy looked at Li Na tiredly.

Tang knelt and pressed a kiss on Pigsy's forehead. “I know how you feel, hon– it's terrifying and I just– I hate it so much.”

Pigsy sighed, nuzzling his head against Tang's chest before his husband wrapped him into a soft hug.

“Self isolation is a nasty habit for sure,” Sandy looked at and quickly scooped Mo back up again. “It’s not going to be easy to combat it… but with work I know we can get through to him.”

“Always the optimist,” Pigsy snorted weakly.

Sandy chuckled a little. “Someone has to be.”

Pigsy couldn’t argue with that, swapping the now empty bottle with a towel to burp Li Na, before glancing back up the steps, where he could see Mei stomping around.

“You should go to her, Sandy,” he spoke up, but his friend shook his head.

“We need to plan what to do about MK together– she's his family too,” Sandy said.

“She's just as much a kid as MK, she doesn't need all that pressure either,” Pigsy argued.

“She's his best friend, Pigsy. She's going to worry and want to do something no matter what,” Sandy gave the pig a look so tender it actually made the chef want to cry.

“W-well, um… either way, I don't like the kid bein’ by herself and I'm just holding you back, so, you know...” Pigsy sniffled, trying not to dwell.

“Oh, c'mon, don't be like that honey,” Tang rubbed his arm. “We’re all a team here, whether they know it or not.”

Pigsy nodded, ultimately agreeing with the sentiment. “Sorry, yeah, I just–”

“I know, hon. You’re okay,” Tang kissed his cheek.

The chef smiled.

Once Li Na was all burped and settled, she was wrapped back into Sandy's carrier, which she again protested. Thankfully though, all that eating must've tired her out as she fell asleep by the time they saw Mei halfway across a rope suspension bridge.

“Mei! Wait right there!” Sandy instantly called out, an unusual panic in his voice that made the other two adults pause before rushing with him.

Mei turned around, seeming annoyed more than anything. “Took you slow pokes long enough. C’mon, we gotta get going–”

“Mei, wait, that bridge isn't safe and you don’t have the right equipment or anything! You need to take it slow–”

“Sorry, but I'm actually trying to reach MK before my retirement,” Mei rolled her eyes and continued onward, not noticing how the bridge slanted a notable amount to the right, nor how some parts of the rope were frayed or how it was over a massive chasm or–

“Mei, are you trying to get yourself killed too?!” Pigsy shouted at her, running to the bridge’s start.

“I'm trying to get back to MK before it's too late, unlike you slowpokes,” Mei mumbled that last part, continuing forward until a loud CRACK broke through the mountain and Mei let out a shriek– the plank underneath her foot snapping in half and causing her to fall halfway before she managed to just barely catch the bottom rope.

“MEI!” All three of them shouted, Pigsy summoning his rake without even thinking and racing to her aid (ignoring Tang's loud sputtering protests and confusion).

“Pigsy! Y-your rake-! What if that counts as magic?! We can't be tracked!” Mei worried.

“Jesus– I don't fucking care! I'm not losing any of my goddamn kids! Just grab on,” Pigsy instructed, not comprehending how that could even be on her mind right now. Thankfully, Mei did still have enough sense to do as she was told and Pigsy pulled her back up on the bridge– though was quickly startled when Mei suddenly latched onto him and wouldn't let go.

“Woah, hey now, it's okay, kid. I got you.” Pigsy hugged her right back, his rake disappearing once more.

“P-piggy, I'm so sorry– I don't know what I was thinking– I–” Mei started to cry.

“Hey, it's okay, I got you, Mei, I got you. We'll make it across, everything’s okay,” Pigsy assured, finally looking back at his husband and best friend, who both looked like they just had the biggest heart attacks of their lives.

Once Sandy noticed Pigsy looking at him, he shook off his shock though, sighing a breath of relief before clearing his throat. “Right– okay– you two need to stay to the left of the bridge, alright? And watch out for creaking or too much rocking– take it nice and even!” Sandy instructed, and Pigsy nodded.

“You okay to stand?” he then asked the still trembling girl, who shook her head.

“I-I'm sorry Piggy, I'm sorry,” she kept crying.

“Hey, it's okay– we can talk on the other side, okay? I got you, everything'll be alright.” Pigsy gave a squeeze for emphasis and eventually Mei nodded and slowly let go. However, the second Pigsy was up and standing again, Mei held his hand tight. The chef didn't mind, though, letting her hold on as they followed Sandy's instruction until they were back on solid ground and waiting for the others to cross.

The pair didn't speak while they waited, though Mei wrapped her arms around one of his and buried her head in his shoulder. Pigsy did his best to try and comfort her, though was constantly watching and worrying for Tang, Sandy, Mo, and Li Na.

Thankfully, everyone made it just fine– though the second Tang was across he grabbed Mei's shoulders and started shaking her.

“Long Xiaojiao, don't ever do that again!” he ordered before squeezing the daylights out of her.

“I-I'm sorry Mr. Tang, I-I don't know– I'm so scared– MK– he isn't acting right– h-he–”

Tang hugged her tighter. “I know– god, I know… but what can we do?” Tang asked, eventually letting go and looking to Sandy, meanwhile Mei reattached herself to Pigsy's arm.

“Hey now, it's not too late, MK is still with us. We have time,” Sandy assured as he unwrapped his carrier once again, passing over the anxious infant to Tang, who rocked her.

“Yeah, but– but how much?” Pigsy glanced at Mei, who squeezed his arm tighter, burying her head.

Sandy had to think for a moment, which didn't make Pigsy feel any better.

“Look… it's not going to be easy, but MK is still here, we just have to keep assuring him we're here too. Even if it seems like fate or the universe is trying to pull us apart, we have to let him know we aren't going anywhere and– and that he means so much to us a-and–” Sandy started to get choked up, which made Mo start to purr and rub his head against Sandy's. “Right– right, sorry–”

“Sandy, it's okay, you can be scared too,” Pigsy assured, receiving a tearful smile of gratitude in response.

“R-right– well–” Sandy tried clearing his throat as a few tears fell quickly down his cheeks. “Well first, we'll make it up the mountain and help MK with anything he may need. After that, we'll be back in the truck for the second stone, and rest up. We don't want to pile too much on him too soon, but getting in some praise and affection would be good, I think,” he sniffled.

“But will it be enough?” Mei asked quietly.

“...I'll have a one-on-one meditation session with him tomorrow– try to teach him mindfulness and try to pass on wisdom about fighting inner demons. It’ll help him know he’s not alone,” Sandy nodded to himself.

“MK kinda hates meditation though– part of the ol’ ADHD thing,” Mei pointed out, fidgeting with Pigsy’s shirt sleeve.

“I know, but–... but I think with time and effort I could really get through to him,” the river demon tried to sound confident, but when Mei didn’t seem any more assured, he sighed. “I know how bad– how helpless it feels to watch someone go through this… but I know that Pigsy and Tang are right– there is nothing we can't fix together.”

“What about after the meditation?” Mei asked again. “What do we do then? H-how can we– can we make sure he doesn't– you know–”

Sandy smiled softly. “We just continue loving him the best we can, Mei, that's all we can do– until we find a trained professional for him, that is.”

“Right… right, okay,” The dragon girl sniffled, glancing up at Pigsy for reassurance, to which the demon kissed her head.

“We're gonna make that kid feel so fucking loved he won't know what hit ‘im,” the chef joked a little too.

“And we'll also make sure to take care of ourselves in the meantime too,” Tang added, and Mei instantly nodded.

“R-right– I know, I'm so sorry– I didn't mean to– I just–”

“We know, kiddo, just don't scare us like that again.” Pigsy moved to wrap his arm around the girl's shoulders.

Mei’s eyes went to the ground. “I mean... I didn't– I know you've said it before, but… I didn't think you actually thought of me like I’m your kid,” she chuckled weakly.

“What can I say? We're huge saps,” Pigsy chuckled too and gave her another tight squeeze.

Mei snorted, nuzzling closer as she did.

“And– uh– for the record, I– um… I’m very fond of you too, Mei,” Sandy added, making Mei finally break the embrace to give Sandy a hug of his own.

“I love you too, ya big ol’ teddy bear,” Mei said, causing the river demon to laugh and embrace her back.

Pigsy could see his friend was on the verge of crying again, but he didn’t say anything and instead made his way closer to Tang before asking how he and Li Na were holding up.

“Oh, you know… little sore, little exhausted, but a little better, too,” Tang chuckled nervously while Li Na grasped her baba’s thumb.

“You thinkin’ you’ll be able to make it up the rest of the mountain? It’s a long way to go still,” Pigsy asked.

“Are you offering to carry me?” Tang batted his eyelashes.

Pigsy rolled his eyes and pushed him away playfully. “Not if you keep doing that.”

The scholar laughed, though it didn’t last too long. At first Pigsy just assumed he was tired, but his eyes had an intense focus on Li Na before he suddenly asked–

“Pigsy?”

The chef straightened up. “Yes?”

“Tell me everyone’s going to end okay– that MK, and Mei, a-and Li Na are going to be alright.”

Pigsy’s heart melted. “MK, Mei, and Li Na are gonna be just fine, Tangy–”

“Promise me.” Tang looked at him.

Pigsy hesitated, glancing at Sandy, then Mei, then Li Na before going back to his husband.

“I… I promise, Tang. Everyone’s gonna go home just right,” he said, placing a hand on his husband’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

Tang’s face relaxed into a tired and slightly goofy smile. “Thanks, hon. I-I just– thank you.”

Pigsy smiled and kissed his cheek, before turning to the others. “We ready to get going?”

“Oh-! Yeah! Don’t wanna leave him hanging for too long” Mei immediately bounced up, and once Li Na was back and wrapped up with Sandy, they started making their way up the mountain once more.

The hike ended up lasting until just about sunset, and with Pigsy having to carry Tang for a little over half the distance because of his weak ankles. It wasn’t great for the pig demon’s back by any means, but Sandy was already carrying his massive hiking emergency bag, Mo, and Li Na, so he sucked it up. It was also better than even entertaining the thought of leaving his husband behind, so while it was difficult, he endured knowing it would be worth it.

…Which was why when Wukong grabbed MK and immediately flew away again the second the group reached the top, Pigsy felt angry enough to tear the immortal limb-from-limb.

It wasn’t helped that from the brief moment Pigsy actually saw his son, there was this… this cloudiness behind his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was new– it had to have been new– Pigsy wouldn’t have missed it if it had been there at the restaurant or in the van–

Something bad happened to his son while he was out of reach.

“Well… uh… back down we go, I guess, huh?” Tang tried to lighten the mood, elbowing Pigsy to try and get him to join in.

Pigsy didn’t have it in him, though. Instead, he stared at Sandy, starting a silent conversation.

He’s worse, the chef’s eyes said.

I know.Sandy looked back with pity.

Why does this keep happening?

I don’t know.

Why can’t he just be okay? Why can’t he stay with us?

I don’t know that either, Pigsy. But we’re sticking to our plan as a team, no matter what. We'll figure this out.

Pigsy took a deep breath and nodded.

Right. You’re right.

Sandy smiled weakly. Of course I am. Let’s get going. Can’t leave him alone for too long.

“Right… right. Let’s get going,” Pigsy said, and after scooping Tang up once more, they started down the mountain again with equal parts worry and determination to fix what was wrong as a team.

[sisyphusunderthesun]

Honestly, the age gap hysteria is getting on my nerves. A character can't call another character "kid" or "son" without being accused of pedophilia. Are teenagers or anyone who thinks so really that stupid these days or do they just rarely go outside to listen to people of any age talk?

It's also weird that a 10 year age difference, when one character is 21+ and the other is 30, is perceived as a crime, but if there is a 6,000 year age difference between characters (but they look the same age) then it's not considered a crime. So what's more important, the biological age difference or how the characters look? Or both? Because people usually justify a 6,000 year age difference by saying that the characters are just different species. Different species, yeah.

But Hank and Connor are also different species that develop differently. Look, Connor is an android detective, he is approximately 30 years old by human standards, not 20, not 25. He's at least 30 (because they won’t create an android to work in the police, who will not be perceived as an adult experienced man) because he was created that way. He is already both mentally and physically a fully grown man. He does not need life experience to be with Hank, no matter how much people argue that “well, he is so new in this world”, he does not need to develop mentally to be with Hank, he is already an adult and developed enough to love one specific person, their relationship can be romantic right after Chicken Feed and there is nothing wrong with that, simply because Connor is an adult, but for some reason people vehemently deny it, resorting to the argument “but he is zero years old!” Okay… so you're saying that Connor is too childlike to love Hank, but old enough to fuck Gavin, who is 36, just because they look the same age? So… the age difference and Connor's physical age doesn't matter as long as the characters look young enough? Because by that logic, any human would be a pedophile if they got into a relationship with any android, since the age difference would be huge anyway. But for some reason, people are very diligent in ignoring this.

But Connor and Hank are different species, and androids develop millions of times faster than humans, Connor doesn't need to learn anything (he already understands what a consent is) to understand morality and understand what and who he wants.

I'll give an example from comic/cartoon series named Invincible. There's a moment when a humanoid man, who can literally live for thousands of years, married a humanoid woman whose lifespan is only one year, 365 human days, that is, imagine how quickly her race develops both physically and mentally. But according to the logic of those same people, this would be pedophilia, although these are just two different species of living beings that develop differently.

But for some reason people still ignore such moments.

I'll give an example from the Lord of the Rings. Arwen was 2690 years older than Aragorn, but just because they looked about the same age, no one cares. But elves don't age, so after living with Arwen for 120 years, Aragorn really did age, while Arwen always looked young. In their case, neither appearance nor age mattered (and I won't go into detail about the fact that Aragorn was 87 at the time of the story).

But if looks matter… and physical age doesn't, why does everyone care that Connor is 4 months old if he's an adult by default like any other newly created android? Why do people want to infantilize Connor in particular (especially when it comes to his relationship with Hank), but at the same time no one ever considers rk900/Markus/Simon/Jericho/Kara etc. from that perspective?Markus can lead the revolution, rk900 can have as lover whoever he wants, Kara can be a mother, and only Connor cannot be an adult and sleep with one human if the human is Hank?

And if looks matter… what about people who, due to the peculiarities of their bodies, will always look like teenagers until old age in essence? There is a girl who is in her twenties (22-26, I'm not sure), she will always look like a teenager, does this mean that she is not worthy of love and relationships with men her age? Because when she started dating a guy her own age, this guy was bullied, accused of pedophilia (although it is not only looks that matter in pedophilia), and they had to break up. So if looks are important, then by this logic this girl should only date teenagers who match her in appearance? But in that case, it would also be morally wrong on her part? Make up your mind, people. Especially when it comes to fictional characters who, according to canon, are adults.

[spacelesbiandisaster]

Remember those kids from the Gathering?

I was wondering which master each one of them would get if Order 66 didn't hit, so I made elaborate headcanons about it.

(because I'm unemployed and bored)

You can check Part II here!

Katooni and Obi-Wan

Do I even need to explain this one?

Seriously, I could just say that it would be fun seeing the both of them dealing with Hondo Onaka on a weekly basis and that by itself is all the reason we need. Unfortunately I like to make things make sense in universe and not just because they a fun, so let's talk why Katooni is the perfect Padawan for Kenobi.

They both the mom of the group.

Katooni spent half of her Gathering trying to convince Petro to not do stupid shit, and she seems to take a role of leadership overall during the episodes she participated. I think she deeply cares about her friends and it's not afraid to speak her mind when they do something she judges wrong.

Maybe this particular trait would eventually make her speak out of her place with her master, especially with she was allowed to watch the Council sessions and see some of the master says something they disagree, but if Obi-Wan could raise Anakin it wouldn't be a challenge deal with Katooni's strong personality. Also, because she cares so much about others, their disagreements would solo concerned the method they should use (Is okay to call out Petro in front of his master or should her find some other approach to avoid embarrassing her friend? Should she let Hondo go just because he decided to not robber the people she was protecting or she should hold him accountable for his actions besides her personal feeling? Thing like this.) And Obi-Wan would understand were her opinions are coming from because he has a similar personality.

• Katooni needs a master who help her connect to the force.

Listen, I'm not saying that Katooni is weak but we can all agree that it is curious how she is the last youngling to finish her lightsaber, right?

Her test in the gathering only truly happens once she is out of Ilum (in my opinion) were she sees all her friends with their lightsabers while she herself is struggling to connect the parts using the force. The way I read this is that Katooni have a confidence problem and that is blocking her abilities.

You know how else struggle with that? Luke Skywalker! Luke couldn't understand the force or believe that someone like him could use the force, but Obi-Wan was able to teach him before passing. Katooni is ages ahead of Luke on this matter, but I believe Obi-Wan still the right person to guide her to overcome those blocks and make her more confident and in tune with the Force.

• Katooni is a future diplomat.

Okay, I have to talk about Hondo. This girl was able to make that man do something solo for the kindness of his heart. FOR FREE! Sure Hondo tries to charge Obi-Wan after delivering the kids safety, but I think it was a act so Kenobi wouldn't think bad of him.

My point is Katooni as able to talk her way out of a terrible situation with a help of a pirate how tried to murderer her and her friends. She looked at Hondo and not only instantly forgave him, but also bargain with him to save her friends. Imagine if she was trained with the Negotiator? That girl would be ending wars only with her words by the time she was knighted!

Overall I think that's a lot she could learn from him, and Obi-Wan surely would be glad to have a break from the chaotic nature of Anakin. I don't have anything against the guy, but Katooni is way more of a Jedi than Skywalker is and her and Obi-Wan would definitely vibe together during diplomatic missions.

Gungi and Yoda

It's absolutely criminal that the last Padawan of Master Yoda is freaking Dooku! This little frog deserved better and I think of all youngling Gungi would definitely be the best match for him! And if he stayed alive in a swamp for almost 20 years eating strange sup just to train Luke, I think he could last a decade more in the temple with doctors looking after him and clean food so he could watch over my favorite Wookie!

Gungi would teach Yoda to have hope in the future.

I going to advocate that the master can learn just as much as the padawan if they open themselves to listen, and boy Yoda definitely need to learn some things! Gungi is full of life, has a lot of energy and being around some like this would do wonders for Yoda's spirit. It would remind the Gran Master that the Order has a future and maybe it would make Yoda reevaluate some of his recent decisions.

I think Yoda spend way too much time in the council chambers, and having a Padawan would eventually force him to go out on the galaxy to see something other than the clone wars. I would give him not only a apportunity to connect with the youth but with the people of the galaxy he was supposed to help.

Yoda and the Wookies have a close relationship for decades now (maybe centuries)

I don't think Jedi masters choose their Padawans based on species only, but this is definitely a factor given examples like Luminara and Barriss and Kit Fisto and Nahdar. I think a master had to know a least the basics about their about species be able to teach, and Yoda would be perfect to help Gungi connect with his culture.

A lesson on patience and lost

Gungi is a very impatient youngling, we see this in his test on the gathering with him struggling to wait the lake frozen. This don't see to be a issue when we reunite with him on the Bad Batch episode, but I don't believe that single experience on the cave was enough to make him overcome those feelings. Gungi needs a master who will know how to help him exercise his patience on a regular basis.

On top of that, Gungi seems to be nervous when Ganodi leaves him alone in the lake so she could look for her own crystal. He isn't as scary as Byth, but he is uncomfortable with being alone nonetheless. Being Yoda's Padawan he would probably had to come with terms with the idea that his master would pass away early on his life. Remember, Wookies are a long life species in cannon, so even if he does live longer in the Jedi temple than he would if order 66 happened Yoda would still died when Gungi was a young adult.

Yoda would probably openly speak about his death a lot and it would show Gungi that this isn't something to be afraid of. Being a Wookie would probably mean the he would also have to experience all his youngling clan die as well and he needs to be ready for it.

I also want to point out how important would be if Gungi gave continuity to Yoda's lineage. Sure we have Quigon, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka and whoever she chooses to be her Padawan in the future (I plan to make a part II about this eventually), but they are call "the disaster lineage" for a reason... Let's give Yoda a less chaotic lineage please.

Zatt and Quinlan Vos

If anyone in the Jedi order would be up for a challenge that person would definitely be Quinlan Vos. Not that I think Zatt would be a difficult Padawan, but because he is so different than Quinlan their dynamic would be so interesting (to me at least).

Quinlan would forced Zatt to leave his iPad at home.

"Forced" is probably a strong word, but I can't imagine Quinlan letting the boys really on technology as much Zett would like.

Remember that Zett is the padawan how tried to track his crystal using a datapad but eventually got frustrated and call the thing "useless", but much like Gungi, I don't believe that this one experience would change his whole personality forever. Zatt would probably still try to navigate his ships looking at the panels instead of trusting in the force and things like this, but Quinlan would reminder him of his lesson while making use of his abilities (Quinlan would ask Zatt to open so many doors so they could invade criminal hide out without making a big entrance...)

Also how cool would be if Zatt eventually became a sensory time like his master and learn to track his target using the force after years struggling with that?

• Zatt would teach Quinlan to be a little more discreet (I hope)

Zatt probably enjoys hacking into buildings and stealing information on the holonet while Vos is literally the guy how destroy the door of the house of a Hutt matriarch with his lightsaber just because he didn't had the patience to wait Obi-Wan come out with a plan. Zatt would probably give smart solutions for the trouble his master puts him into and Quinlan would have to listen at least from time to time.

• Quinlan would teach Zatt thing he cannot find in the holonet.

I really see Zatt as the iPad kid, and Quinlan would be the cool father who is street smart, you know? He would make Zatt learn from his environment instead on only books, and would make the boy practice abilities he is not currently comfortable with.

Also I think between the knowledge Quinlan has on the underworld factions and Zatt's hack abilities, Quinlan could shape his Padawan to be a really resourceful Jedi when it comes to dealing if criminal activity in the galaxy.

Ganodi and Kit Fisto

Please stay with me with this one.

I think Kit Fisto wasn't expecting getting a new Padawan anytime soon after his battle against general Grievous, but upon seeing Ganodi he would feel a bound and take the responsibility of training and raising the girl. Hear me out:

• A lesson on hope

You when Ganodi freaks out because she can't find her crystal and start to cry because she thinks there's no hope for her? And remember how Kit Fisto stay calm even after his former Padawan (Nahdar) dies and is able to continue his fight?

Yeah, Kit Fisto is the best Jedi to teach Ganodi about putting her fears aside for the sake of her mission. His wining personality (and smile) would also make his daughter Padawan adopt a more positive reaction towards however problem she is going to face.

• A healing journey

I truly believe Kit Fisto was deeply hurt by Nahdar death. He probably thinks it's his fault for not preparing the boy well enough, and would have the same fears about Ganodi, but eventually he would see they are different persons and the thing she struggles with are not the same as Nahdar. It would be different if he picked a over confident Padawan such as Petro (who I think is probably a lot like Nahdar was at that age), but Ganodi seems a sweet girl how need a little push to trust herself and Kit Fisto could absolutely help with that.

That's all I have considering what I know about the characters in cannon, but in my head cannons Ganodi would grow to be quite a fighter and would also benefit from Kit Fisto's lightsaber's abilities. I also find a bit funny the idea that all Kit Fisto's Padawans came from water worlds (Rodians came from a swamp so I'm assuming they can at the very least spend long periods under water)

This is too big already so I going to make a Part II covering Bith, Petro and some other force sensitive children we see in Star Wars but never got a master.