#But biking still has a level of pain but so far it’s not like ‘I’m completely unable to do this’ pain instead it’s like

[theatrekidenergy]

I JUST FOUND OUT I CAN BIKE WITHOUT* PAIN!!!!! I JUST FOUND OUT I CAN BIKE WITHOUT PAIN!!!!!!! I NOW HAVE TWO PHYSICAL ACTIVITIES I CAN DO WITHOUT PAIN!!!!!!! I CAN BIKE WHEN IM NOT FIGURE SKATING!!!!!!! IM GENUINELY SOBBING RIGHT NOW THIS IS SUCH A MASSIVE THING FOR ME YOU DONT UNDERSTAND

* = check tags for explanation

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Really, we shouldn’t be surprised by now but I have more amazing jily AU fics to share because the writers of this fandom are incredibly talented and I have my screen report to prove it.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

serendipity by desperateforsanity (on ao3)

Modern college/uni AU. Dearest Students and Staff, I am pleased to announce Hogwarts University’s fourth annual Pen Pal Program. Upperclassmen and sophomores likely remember and cherish the memories of their previous penpals and are excited to make another friend this year.

TW: for the later chapters for discussions of grief and its effects on one's mental well-being. For the most part, though this is a fun fic full of great banter!

The Frenzied Misadventures of Balcony Man and Window Woman by @clare-with-no-i

prompt: "It's 3am why are you outside my window- are you trying to rob me?"

It feels necessary to preface this entire thing with the fact that, yes, James had good reason to be dangling precariously from a third-floor balcony, and anyone who says differently is simply attempting to smear his good name.

At least, that’s the story he’s sticking to.

Hijinks & Shenanigans

mellow is the man (who knows what he's been missing) also by @/ clare-with-no-i

Earl's Court. 24th May, 1975. Led Zeppelin live in concert like you've never seen them before.

FEATURING: prolonged eye contact, deeply metaphoric descriptions of cigarette smoke, painful levels of detail about makeup, and a special one-time performance by Two Teens In Love! OR: the "we made eye contact at a Led Zeppelin concert but my friends pulled me away to mosh before I could come say hello" AU

So when I say that I saw this unfold frame by frame in my head, I mean the writing is on another level. The way that I could almost smell Earl Court ... I regret waiting so long to read it. Also, found out this is written by the same author as one of my favourite jily fics foreigner’s god so that explains it “I'm not a religious person but I do sometimes think God made you for me.” ― Sally Rooney, Normal People

but he’s a little bit too far away by @firefeufuego

Historical AU. A decade after they met as cadets for The Times, the toll of James chasing stories in war zones is starting to hit home for Lily.

Taking A Shot At You by @annabtg

Modern AU. Lily Evans, pharmacist, has to work all day and night on New Year's Eve - and ends up ringing in the new year with a bloke who just got himself a dog bite.

The Right Track by BeeDaily (on ao3)

Co-workers modern AU. When James is first handed the train ticket, his immediate reaction is to laugh openly in his father's face.

the horoscope by lirians

Modern AU. James stops momentarily to give way to a bunch of rambunctious teenagers on the pavement before he regains his step. Lily has come to a halt a bit further, waiting on him.

“Horoscopes?” he asks as they move onwards. He’s relieved that any awkwardness between them is apparently gone. “How so?”

“Marly sent me mine this week because it said I would meet someone from the past again,” she explains. “I’m still not sold on the idea of it, but isn’t this weird?”

I was inspired to read this by this art

The Falcon and The Squid by @jfleamont

There's a Lego Millennium Falcon that needs to be built. There's also a bet, a ring and a bike.

Put it all together and what do you get?

Leda's jily will always be a favourite of mine. They're idiots in love your honour

Glastonbury by elanev91 (on ao3)

Prompt: we're at a music festival and you crawled into my tent when drunk and fell asleep, now you've woken up bewildered and to be honest I should be more annoyed but you're just so good looking

One Day at Time by @sweeethinny

Single-mum-lily AU. One day at a time is the mantra Lily uses to keep peace inside her mind, but there are days when it's simply impossible and in the end all she needs is a glass of wine, a cozy hug with her boyfriend, and a serious talk with her son.

Note that you can read this as a stand-alone one shot but it's part of a series that takes place in this AU

For All My Life by aheartcalledhome & SecondJadeofLan (on ao3)

When saving the bees ends in a happy family.

pumpkins and blueberries by evotter (on ao3)

Modern soulmate AU. In which Lily Evans hates puzzles, Marlene McKinnon is a coffee-making goddess, and the stuffy manager with the unkempt hair just so happens to be Lily's soulmate. In the wise words of Mary Macdonald, nothing is scarier than a relationship. Especially if it's with your soulmate.

After Moon by lovesickjily (on ao3)

When the universe sent Lily back in time for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t realise that she’d fall for the charming, messy-haired Prince along the way, nor did she realise that she’d see him once again.

here's to never growing up by elixirsoflife (on ao3)

Chat fic where a group chat documents the lives of four highly dramatic teenage boys as they navigate their A Levels.

Or, like, die trying.

Okay, I rarely ever read chat fics, they're just not my thing. BUT this one had me wheezing on my way to school. It's crack. Just treat it like crack

Ice Baby also by elixirsoflife

Modern college/uni AU. In his defence, James never expected to meet his soulmate at thirteen minutes past eleven on a Sunday morning when he’s aiming a puck at Sirius’ balls.

Or: call me sweetheart again and I'll punch you in the throat.

Not a Clue by PotterandEvans (on ao3)

Modern college/uni Quarantine AU. Lily stood in the doorway of the flat, looking at the boy in front of her. She had spent most of the last two years keeping her distance from the annoying piece of work, staying away from his ego mostly. “Come in.” She said, stepping away from the doorway to let him into the flat that she usually shared with Remus.

"Ah, so kind." James muttered as he walked inside, his heavy bag weighing him down. This really was not the ideal situation, for either of them. But he had nowhere else to go, so staying with Lily Evans it was going to have to be.

they were zoommates (requires an ao3 account) by elanev91 (on ao3)

Modern college/uni Quarantine AU. Lily's on lockdown and, because she can't help herself, signs herself up for a whole bunch of extra (and free) work with her ad agency. Minerva, her boss, assigns a cheeky social media manager to her team to help her. Also, Marlene discovers TikTok (this is nowhere near as important to the narrative as its inclusion here suggests).

And You Heard About Me (Ooh, We’ve Got Some Big Enemies!) by @wearingaberetinparis

Fame AU. Lily Evans is a Grammy-winning singer-songwriter and global superstar, who recently broke up from her latest and long-term actor boyfriend Amos Diggory. James Potter is a professional football player who plays as a forward for Manchester United and has never been quiet about his celebrity crush: Lily Evans. When Lily Evans thus plays at Wembley Stadium - a place he is more than familiar with due to his being part of the England team - he just has to go and see her perform, embracing his inner, besotted fan boy, while the woman on stage is completely oblivious to his presence. Or is she?

The most unrealistic part was man u winning (but it's James so that explains it). Regardless, I started this fic while waiting for my final grades from last year to come through, and while they were disappointing, this sure wasn't. I was crying so hard that I fell asleep. Then I woke up and continued the fic and suddenly I was giggling along with Lilly. Anything and everything Mary writes is a masterpiece. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story.

it continues (the beginning doesn't matter) by whitesunlars (on ao3)

She is the last person he expected at his door at that exact moment, despite feeling unsure about the fact that she managed to track down his address, he agrees to go out to coffee with her. A lot could be said about James Potter, but nobody could claim that he had good self-preservation skills.

They meet in a bar. Mistakes happen. They learn to keep going.

[kiwisfics]

A/N: Don't read this if you don't like dark fics! Don't come at me if you don't like the content. Triggers are listed and the only non-"constructive" comments I'll take are about any triggers that need to be added. I said I was gonna post this like... three days ago but I kept going over it again so if I don't post it now I'm not gonna. JUST TAKE THIS! Let me know if I missed any uses of my SI's name when I was editing.

Context Needed: I normally keep the fics I write that are lore-heavy to myself, but since people said they wanted the dark fic… Reader is a rifter, which basically means that she’s capable of traveling dimensions, and is conditionally immortal. Reader goes by Black Robin and is implied to have a suit that shows a lot of skin and to have a flirty persona as a vigilante.

TWs under the cut because there's... a lot.

Light TWs: Self-loathing, reader diminishes her own worth, reader has past trauma with being left behind by people she cares about, Dick is giving reader the silent treatment at the beginning but it’s mostly pre-setting, canon-typical violence/blood mentions. “Good girl” gets used condescendingly.

Heavy TWs: Do NOT read this if you have any triggers related to rape/non-con. Nothing actually happens, but it heavily revolves around reader believing that it's going to. Seriously, don't read this if you don't like whumpy stuff, because you're not gonna like it. My love of whumper to caretaker shows through here. Lots of mentions of trafficking, reader is kidnapped by said traffickers, fear of rape/non-con, Dick is very mean. Like, seriously, he’s very OOC for the majority of this fic. Threats/implications of rape/non-con, inappropriate use of one of his escrima sticks (just in the mouth) reader has a spiral at the end where she’d convinced that Nightwing and Red Hood are going to rape her.

If it’s any consolation, this is technically hurt/comfort, so it isn’t all horrible. Just… most of it. Reader also forgives him far too fast in the end, but I can gladly share some more snippets of how this affects the reader character in the future. I’ve already got ideas for some short scenes that I’m gonna write.

-

Nightwing was going to kill her.

He’d been explicitly clear: he didn’t want to see Black Robin out ever again. She’d nearly gotten herself killed, but she knew that wasn’t why he was so angry. He couldn’t have cared less about that, after all, she was a rifter and that meant that she was built to take pain and that death was a moot point. He was angry because she’d risked the mission, nearly let a trafficker that they’d all been hunting for weeks get away because she got too confident for her own good.

She’d snapped back at him when he told her that she wasn’t to wear the suit again, told him that he was just like Batman. That was the wrong thing to say.

He hadn’t talked to her since.

So, maybe she was trying to bait him a little by coming into Blüdhaven in her suit, maybe she was trying to get his attention back because she couldn’t stand being punished with the silent treatment. Maybe this was her fault.

Well, it was definitely her fault, but in her defense, she was thinking with her heart and not her head. She didn’t want to lose him, and in some twisted way, having him level her with lecturing and anger was still better than the radio silence.

She would have been fine. Nightwing would never actually hurt her. That wasn’t what went wrong.

Her suit didn’t have a panic button. It didn’t need one because she was forbidden from going out on her own even before she’d wrecked a mission and been benched. So, when she’d stolen a bike and made her way to Blüdhaven in costume while Bruce was off-world, Tim was with the Titans, Jason was off on a no contact mission, and Alfred was distracted with keeping Damian from abandoning his studies in favor of full-time vigilantism, no one knew where she was going.

She’d even been stupid enough to leave a note saying that she was heading home to visit family, and she wouldn’t be back for a while.

Alfred would have already found the note. Bruce wouldn’t start worrying for at least forty-eight hours with no word.

By then, it might be too late. Too late for her pride and her self-respect at least.

For now, she contented herself with growling and spitting at the traffickers, fighting the urge to be sick over the taste of her own blood soaking the rag in her mouth. She had no chance of picking the locks on the handcuffs, because she’d never gotten the hang of it while Bruce was teaching her, so she didn’t bother fiddling with them, instead preserving her energy.

If no one found her, she’d need her energy if she got the chance to run. They’d have to uncuff her from the chair if they wanted to-

She gulped, pushing down the thought.

Nightwing was going to kill her, but he was also the only chance she had of getting out of this without something worse than torture occurring.

She could see the leering. She could read the expressions. She promised herself that if she got out of this, then she was going to change the layout of her suit. She needed to cover more skin. She needed to flirt less with enemies too, apparently, because the men that had grabbed her had parroted some of her own lines back at her while they gagged her and dragged her back to this warehouse.

It was always warehouses. For once, she wanted to get dragged to a penthouse suite and get threatened and tortured by a classy villain.

Nightwing was going to kill her, but she couldn’t help the way that her chest lurched with relief and happiness upon seeing his form drop to the floor from one of the open skylights.

At once, all of the guns were on him, but, as suspected, he didn’t so much as flinch.

“Here to save your little friend? Awful bold to jump right in the middle of the warehouse full of men with guns, even for you, Nightwing.”

He tilted his head, the clench in his jaw speaking of rage.

She was sure she was saved, because even if he was mad at her and was going to give her a lecture that might have her in tears by the end of it, Nightwing wouldn’t hurt her. Dick wouldn’t hurt her.

“Save her? No. She’s just getting exactly what she asked for.”

Her stomach lurched this time, but it was with fear and a sickly cold feeling that crawled up her throat like it was being swarmed by ants.

Was she wrong? There was no way he would just leave her to her fate. He’d saved genuinely terrible people from situations that weren’t even as bad as the one that she’d found herself in, so there was no way he was going to leave her here, just because they’d had a fight.

Right?

The men’s guns all seemed to lower in the slightest bit, but they didn’t leave his form, “You expect us to believe you’re going to just leave her here? That you just dropped in for a friendly chat?”

“Oh, no. I don’t plan to leave her here. You just saved me the trouble of getting her pinned down is all.” He twirled one of his escrima in his hand, like it was a fidget toy instead of a dangerous weapon. “I appreciate you making my night easier, but I’m going to be taking her off of your hands now.”

So, he was saving her, right? He was contradicting himself, but she didn’t care what he said if he got her out of this.

“Thought you weren’t saving her,” the guns raised back to their full height, the leader scoffed, “you go play hero somewhere else for the night and maybe will give her back when she’s nice and broken in. Might not even charge you the full rate.”

She didn’t like having her suspicions confirmed about what they planned to do with her, but that was fine. She had guessed that, and it didn’t matter anymore, because Nightwing was here and that meant that these idiots were just delaying the inevitable rescue he’d come to pull off.

“Well, I guess you could consider it saving. After all, I might not be quite as into pain as some of your clients are, but you shouldn’t worry, I plan to make good use of her.”

What?

No, no, that wasn’t right. He was not actually implying that he was going to use her exactly how these men planned to. There was no way. He was Nightwing. He was-

They’d been flirting since they’d met, the kind of flirting that made everyone that didn’t know better think they were already an item. Even she knew that he was attracted to her, but… had she really pushed her luck this far? Had she really made him hate her so much that the only way he wanted to make a move on that attraction was like this?

She was having more and more trouble holding back on throwing up the meal she’d had before leaving Gotham.

“Yeah, right. You expect us to believe you want her as a toy?” The leader scoffed.

She wished she was that certain that he was lying about it.

Dick- Nightwing walked forward, still twirling his escrima as he approached her. The men parted for him despite keeping their weapons squarely aimed.

“Who could blame me?”

She could feel his eyes burning into hers even behind his mask. Her own mask was long gone, leaving him an unabated view of her frightened eyes. She was sure there was betrayal there too.

His escrima rested beneath her chin, and she forced her head back, trying to put distance between her skin and the weapon that she knew could easily shock her, “Look how pretty she is when she’s scared.”

She tried to muffle the whine that escaped her throat, but there was no way that he didn’t hear it.

What was going on? This was wrong. Was this- was someone wearing his face?

No, she couldn’t pin it on that, because no one knew about the way he’d yelled at her about never wearing the suit again, and there was no denying that was what he meant when he’d said she was getting what she asked for.

He really did hate her, then. She’d really, really messed up, and now he hated her, and for some reason the sting that knowledge made bite at her heart was worse than the fear at what he planned to do to her.

“And what kind of payment are we getting out of this? We could make hundreds at least by selling a vigilante, especially if we only rent her out. And this one can break over and over again, just to heal back up. She’d a goldmine of opportunities. Why would we just hand her over to you?”

Dick’s—no, no, she couldn’t think of him as anything other than Nightwing, because if she thought of him as Dick, then she was going to breakdown for sure; Dick didn’t hate her, Dick cuddled her during movie nights and carried her to bed when she fell asleep—Nightwing’s jaw ticked with irritation. Apparently, he hadn’t expected them to be so unwilling to give her up just because he wanted her to himself.

Was he waiting for this? Did he know what he was going to do as soon as he’d told her to never put the suit on again? Was he hoping that she would, just so he could use it to justify punishing her like this?

His empty hand trailed up her chest, just barely brushing her shirt, but it was enough to make a jolt go down her spine. He grabbed her jaw, the escrima stick brushing lightly against her cheekbone, “You’re going to let me take her without causing me any more trouble, because otherwise, I’ll be telling the Bat about your outposts in Gotham.”

Angry muttering began among the traffickers, but the leader remained silent, “That’s not much of a payment.” He hummed, like he was considering the offer, but anyone could tell that he already planned to ask for more, “Tell you what, you can take her out of here, no problem. I’m not interested in getting caught by a stray bullet in a firefight, and, honestly, keeping one of the Bat’s things seems like asking for trouble. She didn’t put up much of a fight, so you can walk out with her, after you give us a show.”

She gagged audibly on the rag in her mouth, tears finally escaping her eyes while she put renewed effort into forcing the rag out of her mouth. She wanted to beg and plead and cry. If he was going to do anything to her, at the very least she didn’t want an audience.

For his part, she could see his eyes widen just a fraction behind his mask, but the surprise quickly seemed to settle, and he flashed a smirk to the men that made her feel like she was about to start hyperventilating.

“Fine.”

No, no, no, no, no.

He pulled the gag from her mouth with the hand that had been against her chin, and she instantly opened her mouth to beg, but snapped it shut a millisecond later, her teeth clacking together almost painfully.

His escrima stick was resting against her lips, and his free hand was holding her jaw again, fingers squeezing against her cheeks in an attempt to make her open her mouth, but she wasn’t budging. She wasn’t stupid, and maybe cooperation would make things better in the long run, but she wasn’t letting him put his weapon in her mouth.

“Unless you want this to hurt a lot more later, you should cooperate right now. I’d hate to use this somewhere-“

Her mouth shot open before he could finish, fast enough that her jaw popped.

Okay, so she was letting him put his weapon in her mouth. She’d take the loss.

“Good girl.”

She hated that the praise stroked something in her, making her heart flutter even while he shoved the escrima stick past her lips and far enough into her mouth to hit her throat and make her gag.

Blood. Steel. An iron tang that made her brain go blank for long enough that she missed what he said next.

He didn’t appreciate that.

“Am I boring you?” He growled the words as his free hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head forward, making the escrima stick hit the back of her throat again with what was almost a bruising force. “I asked if you were going to behave, or if I was going to need to make you deepthroat this while it was on, but I guess I have my answer.”

Cold terror battered against her ribcage in place of her heart. All that was left in her chest was a black hole of absolute horror and fear that could hardly classify as a heart.

She didn’t realize that the sobbing in her ears was her own at first, too far into her own head and too tense while waiting for him to flick the switch to make this humiliation painful to know what was going on around her.

She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t breathe!

And suddenly everything around her stopped and went deathly silent before gunfire began and the yelling of the traffickers became frantic and chaotic. The only words she picked up were “it’s the Hood!” and what normally would have made her think she was saved only made her panic more, because if Nightwing—the one that had held her while she cried and always agreed to musicals just because he knew she loved them—was going to use her as a toy, than that meant that Red Hood would too. She was sure he hated her too. She’d thought the way they bantered was fun and games, but she’d also thought that Nightwing cared about her and clearly, she was wrong about that. Nightwing had probably called him here so he could take out the frustration he had with her on her.

And then they’d tell Batman that they’d found evidence that she’d been trafficked and then they’d keep her locked up somewhere and- and- and- and- she couldn’t-

“Breathe.” A familiar hand fanned across her cheek, fingers brushing away tears that were immediately replaced with more, “Breathe for me, bird. It’s alright. It’s okay.”

She couldn’t. She couldn’t catch her breath, but the escrima stick wasn’t between her teeth anymore, so she could beg now. She could plead and promise to behave and maybe if she asked nice enough and they believed her then they’d let her go after they were done with her instead of keeping her.

“Please, please, I’m- I’m sorry, I-I’ll never wear the suit again, I promise. I promise.  I’ll be good. I won’t fight, I’ll-“

“Hey, hey, stop.” He pressed his hand against her mouth, not hard enough to force her to be quiet or to muffle her voice if she did continue to beg, but she silenced herself instantly regardless. “You’re okay, bird. Just breathe. I’d never hurt you. Never. There wasn’t a way to warn you about what was going on without cluing them in. I’m so sorry, bird. I really am.”

He sounded like he was about to cry, and the way he was holding her face in his hands certainly didn’t give her the idea that he was going to hurt her or force her down to her knees so he could-

“I could think of a hundred better ways to have gone about that, ‘wing.” Hood’s voice made her flinch and sink farther down in the chair she was tied to. She didn’t even move her legs or arms when he’d gotten the cuffs undone.

“I needed to distract them so you could get the files and I’m still injured. I wouldn’t even be out tonight if you hadn’t told me that they’d gotten their hands on her. If I’d tried to fight them, then they would have taken me out before finding you, so I don’t want to hear it. Don’t act like I wanted to do or say any of that.”

That was… fair. It wasn’t fair to her, but she had gotten herself into this situation and- she would forgive everything if it meant that he wasn’t going to hurt her. Actually, she’d let him hurt her if it meant that he wasn’t going to use her.

“Dick?” She whined out his name like a kicked puppy, tilting her face against one of his hands in a placating gesture.

“Yeah, bird. I’m here. It’s me. That wasn’t real. None of it was real, and you’re safe now. No one is going to hurt you, especially not me.”

Another sob tore from her throat, and she threw herself forward, into his arms. She was trembling and sobbing harder than he’d ever heard, and she was almost positive it was harder than she ever had in her life. His form wrapped around her, tucking her against his chest as he pressed his face against the top of her head and placed comforting kisses.

Jason sat on the ground behind her, one of his hands running circles against her back in an effort to assist in calming her, and it worked.

After her sobbing began to slow, Dick spoke up hesitantly, “I thought you would know. I never meant- I thought you would know that it wasn’t real. I thought you knew I’d never hurt you.” His breaths shuddered, “I thought you knew that I love you.”

“But you- you were mad at me. You told me- told me I could never wear the suit again and- and then you didn’t talk to me all week and I thought- I thought you hated me. And- and I came here to get your attention because you were ignoring me, so- so I would have deserved-“

“Hey, no. Don’t even finish that sentence.” His hold on her tightened and his voice turned even more tense, edged with anger, “No one deserves to be taken advantage of and you know that.”

She sniffled, tucking her face tight against his neck, and breathing in the scent of his suit and sweat. “You said you love me.”

There was a long pause, and Jason took it as his cue to leave, ruffling [Name]’s hair as he stood and headed out of the warehouse. He landed a boot against the ribcage of the leader of the traffickers as he passed by.

“I’m going to alert Blüdhaven PD. Half of their guys are probably on this group’s payroll though, so I’d get out of here before they show up. They’re probably hoping whoever shut down this location sticks around so they can fill them with lead.”

“We’re headed out now.” Dick stood as he said it, taking [Name] with him as she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung onto him.

“You said you love me.”

“I did,” he finally confirmed, “but I don’t think now is the time to talk about-“

“I love you too. So much.”

He went quiet again, feet still carrying them away from the nightmare that she’d just gone through, “I don’t expect you to forgive me for that.”

She tightened her hold around him, burrowing against him as a sign that she wasn’t holding any grudges, but also in an attempt to hide from the could Blüdhaven night.

“I knew you were after them. I shouldn’t have stuck my nose in it. I just… I wanted you to talk to me again. Even if you were angry. I… I don’t handle the silent treatment well and… it felt like you were leaving me behind, just like everyone else always does. It felt like you had decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore.”

“Never. I’ll never leave you behind, okay? I know that me saying that isn’t going to make you stop thinking that I might, but I’ll prove it, alright? I’ll never leave you behind.” He brushed his lips against her neck, and she couldn’t fight the light laugh that escaped as the gentle touch tickled her skin.

“Okay. I, uh, just… one thing though.”

“Anything.”

“Please keep the escrima sticks away from me for a while?”

 She could feel him cringe, but he nodded, “Yeah. That’s fair.”

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 728: Kaburagi's buddy!!

Pag 1/2

The tickets for the Inter High are only six!! Those  fateful regular jerseys.... snatch them with your hands!!

Pag 3

1: Third lap!!

3: And it's just us!!

4: I started the third lap of the Sohoku training camp being at the top, by far the best among the first years!!

5: Me!! I, Murakami Toyoka, will never again show mercy to anyone!!

Pag 4

1: He's not coming....

2: Tch, again? Kaburagi-san

3: That day, Danchiku said “I'll come”....

5: I'll come to the training camp!!

I'll stand on the start line and we'll run together!! That's my intention!!

6: He said that, and yet....

Pag 5

1: I wanted to go to the Inter High together...

Dammit!!

2: It's alright!! It's alright, Kaburagi-san!!

Uhm, I'm sure.... it's just a delay and they're late!!

If thie guy's spirit breaks now I'm in trouble!! I have to stir him up again and make him run forward

3: If he doesn't pull me, I'm in trouble!!

He'll come soon!!

4: Earlier, at the start line, when we crossed the goal, I saw Touji-san's van

5: Huh!?

7: The fact that they're here and he still doesn't come on the course....

Danchiku's bad condition is...

Pag 6

1: It's not like this, is it!?

Pag 7

1: Do you see the course, Danchiku?

You see? They're struggling

…. yes

It's like I told you earlier in the car

2: You can't ride that bike anymore

3: You should stop

5: …. yes

7: Instead of that

Pag 8

1: Ride this!!

Pag 9

1: It took me a while to prepare this before leaving

It's the same manifacturer as the one you rode, but it's an old model

The components are old, and the wheels are an intermediate level, too

2: And the sadlle is cracked too

4: But it serves its purpose well

5: If you want to ride in this training camp with the bike you've always used, you probably

6: Wouldn't be able to run!!

7: …. huh

You're saying that.... the cause for my bad condition.... is my “bike”!?

Pag 10

1; You could say that, but not really

2: Two weeks ago, Onoda came to me

3: to get some advice regarding your situation

Ah... uhm, uh- that's what I wanted to talk about

4: I talked with Imaizumikun and Naruko-kun too, but I still.... uhm... I can't decide

5: Should I let Danchiku-kun run in the training camp? Or should I stop him? I can't decide

7: He himself said he wants to run

8: He still has next year

Pag 11

1: I also think he shouldn't push himself too hard

3: You really look like a captain now, Onoda....

Yeah

4: Miki told me about this too

5: There must be praparations to do, you focus on that

I'll take care of Danchiku

6: I'll reach out to him every day

I'll talk to him, wait and see, and then make a decision

7: Thank you, you must be busy, but thank you so much!

8: He worked very hard on Minegayama

And then

9: When I heard he was having troubles with his bike, I started worrying too

Pag 12

2: I looked after you, your attitude

4: And I found the answer!!

6: It's “moving forward”

Run in the training camp, Danchiku!!

Pag 13

1: …. ah, but I've been feeling like there's something wrong with my joints since after the Minegayama race.... I went to the hospital many times and still, even now...

2: There, it was just a coincidence that it happened right after the Minegayama race...

3: That's why it confused you

4: Confused!?

5: “You have no self-confidence”, that's the main cause of your bad condition

…..“Confidence”!?

6: Stand up and look closely around you

7: And then look at yourself!!

8: If you think about it, it's easy

Even going to the hospital, you wouldn't know

You're....

Pag 14

1: Growing

You've gotten much bigger

Pag 15

1: It's your height!!

2: Huh!?

3: Second year of high school is a growing period and you're becoming much bigger!!

Pag 16

1: Huh, but....

My height!?

2: During growth period, there'll be big growing spurts that makes you feel bad

You tried to hide your bad condition, and you blamed the victory on Minegayama

3: You were so worried you couldn't even see yourself, weren't you?

4: Yes!!

5: Pains and creaking joints are all “growing pains”

The fact that you didn't have time to adapt is your bike's fault

6: You know this too – just like shoes have a size, road bikes also have specific sizes

7: If your body doesn't match the bike's size, you won't have power nor speed

8: That why it's the “bike”!!

9: I prepared it yesterday

The frame is old, but

Pag 17

1: It's just the right size for your body now!!

Pag 18

1: What....

“Just the right size”.....!!

2: What is this

3: It adapts to my body....

It's connected to my body

4: It feels like I can move forward as I want!!

Pag 19

1: This feels so good!

I'm riding a bike and it feels just like back then!!

2: Believe in yourself

Get on the course and run with all your strength

3: It's alright

As much as you've suffered this past half a year

4: Now grow as much as you want!!

Yes!!

Pag 20

2: Sixth..... lap!!

3: Danchiku...

4: Dammit!! Our pace has been going down since earlier!!

What the hell is this guy doing!!

5: Looking at the times on the board, Kinaka and Rokudai are ressing on with all their strengths

This is bad!!

6: Dammit!! Who cares about Danchiku!!

7: At this point we won't go the Inter High this year....

It's impossible, huh....

8: The pace....

9: ….chiku....

Pag 21

1: He's not coming, Danchiku-san is not coming!!

Until when are you gonna whining like this!!

Come one, give up on that delusion and run with me please!!

3: Ah- no no no

Sorry, I didn't mean, uhm....

Dammit, I said what I really think

4: Kaburagi-san looks so dumbfounded!!

Pag 22

1: I.... I said too much, I'm sorry

Can you forgive me? Neh? Senpai

5: Ah- the buddy sticker!? Kaburagi-san!?

6: Pick it up later, Murakami

You threw it away!?

8: The way he's ducking his head, that acceleration, and that dancing

I've seen them so many times....

I can recognize him right away even from a distance....!!

Pag 23

1: You promised me, didn't you?

And now you're crying!?

2: I told you, didn't I?

3: Who....?

It's no use, it has to be you

4: W.... ah

5: Danchiku

Pag 24

1: We're the legends of team SS!!

I made you wait so long!! Issa!!

Pag 25

3: No one but me can be your buddy!!

Hahaha that's right, Danchiku!!

Pag 26

2: A while ago, also Onoda came on the course

3: And Danchiku joines us, too

From now on

4: We're finally starting for real!!

[shirohige-pirates]

Birds of a Feather

CisFem Reader x Marco

CW: Violence, blood, language, adult themes and scenes. 18+ only

Summary: Life has not been kind to you. After a string of bad relationships, you're a little jaded and a little depressed in all honestly. The worst day of your life seems to be the turning point, but the roller coaster ride that follows could either throw you soaring free, or have you caged forever?

Tag List: @clumsyraccoon

Chapter 31: The Library

It was almost like watching a cartoon in slow motion. There was a second of terrible realization on Teach’s face before it registered what was happening. Gravity reacted faster than he did, and before he could level the pistol at anyone he was already past the lip of the door. The bang of a shot rings in your ears, but the crack and shattering of plaster and wood from the ceiling from the bullet is just as clear to you.

You tugged with all your will, bringing the door closed. It wasn’t a physical action, but one that required focus. The doors only closed automatically once you passed through them.

“(Y/N)!” You hear Marco gasp.

“I’m fine!” You assert, putting your hand up past the line of the desk, turning and pulling yourself to your feet. “I’m fine, I’m here.”

Macro leans back after taking a second to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him, and he practically sinks into the chair like a lead weight. You look around the room, wincing a bit at your own pain.

“Let me go, uh, look for that key.” You say, trying to ignore all the aches and pains in your body and force it to move.

“Just… just come here, yoi.” Marco insists, pushing himself up so he’s settled into the chair a little more comfortably. “Please.”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding as relief sinks into your bones. You make it to the chair, legs buckling as you just grab onto his leg and hug it. The tension from earlier turns into nervous, garbled, messy energy and you just shake and sob for a few minutes.

Marco moves very carefully, fingers resting on your shoulder. The warmth is there, and some pressure from his fingers, but there’s a weakness in it that twists your insides. An effort to soothe you, without letting the seastone at his wrists touch you.

“It’s alright.” He reassures you. “It’s going to be okay.”

You garble out half-choked words of apology, lost in the tears and mess of your current state.

“Don’t apologize, pretty bird.” Marco hums. You can hear the effort in his voice, and quickly try to clean up your face a little with your shirt. You look a mess, but it’s easier to see and talk if you aren’t covered in tears and snot.

“I… need to go find that key.” You insist, pulling yourself to your feet carefully.

Marco shifts, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll give Thatch a call. He and Izou are at the end of the road, waiting for Teach’s bike. I… we thought he’d be alone.”

You give him a somber smile, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “I would’ve rather been thrown from his bike, than taken off this island against my will.”

“I would’ve rathered the chance to save you,” Marco retorts as you head out of the office to work your way upstairs.

At the top of the stairs was the bathroom Teach had used to clean you up a little, and you were pretty sure the key wasn’t in there. You hadn’t torn the room apart from top to bottom, but the idea of putting you in close proximity to something like that seemed like a poor move on his part. Despite the fact that the evening had not gone how he had planned, his planning had still been solid.

Turning to head down the hall you froze.

The devil fruit you’d unwittingly consumed years ago had three sides to it. Active, passive, and utility. Actively, you could change into a powerful owl, but you barely had control of that. Keeping things secret meant using your power as little as possible. Utility was the library, and your access to it and control over it. That was far more practiced than your ability to change. The library was easy to slip into and out of, and for you it was painfully easy to read through several books in a very short amount of time.

It was very efficient.

The boon granted to you passively was an uncanny sense of sight and hearing. You spent a lot of energy at first trying to only “see” and “hear” what was normal for everyone else to be able to catch, but in the end you went with just having slightly better senses. In truth you had painfully better senses, and it had taken years to adapt to it.

Better enough senses to hear Kid call Marco “the Phoenix” when you went to get your car painted. The tattoo had made more sense after that, but you didn’t want to know until he was willing to tell you, and you weren’t upset about it.

You both had your secrets.

Not that there would be many left after this.

It was your senses that had you so still in the hallway. It was hard to see but there was a thin, nearly invisible wire barely an inch off the floor. Once you noticed it your sight sharpened and you were taking in more details than you did normally, just like any creature did when they were hunting. Owls were really good at it, and devil fruits were often representative of their animals in an exaggerated manner.

If you ever learned how to do partial transformations, then you imagined your capacity to see and hear would be even sharper than they were already. The flood of sight and sound would probably give you migraines though.

As far as you could tell, aside from a thin wire on either side of the staircase, there wasn’t anything else up here. If there was, it would have to be wholly invisible for you to not be able to see it, and there wasn’t anything you’d be able to do about that if it was the case.

You stepped carefully over the thin wire, keeping your senses focused and on edge, grateful that heightening your sight and hearing didn’t also heighten your senses of smell and touch. Otherwise the pain and scent of blood from your wounds would be overwhelming.

With your senses on edge it took you a while to pick your way through the upstairs. You found the key inside a box with a bullet lodged into the side of it. A heavy scratch mark marred the symbol on it, and the design looked like Roger’s jolly roger. It wasn’t the bullet from earlier, that was stuck in the floor, having pushed up from the library’s ceiling and cracked the wooden floor in, what you assumed, was Teach’s bedroom.

You brought the box with you and the key, stepping carefully over the wire again before heading back downstairs. You could hear a couple voices approaching the front door, but you ignored them, letting your senses calm down, and focused on returning to Marco in the office. He’d been in those awful cuffs for far too long as it was, and it was your fault he’d even had to put them on.

Setting the box down on the desk you hold up the key. “Hold still.”

“Thatch and Izou should almost be here.” He says, arms already on the armrest. “They can do this without -.”

“I appreciate that.” You interrupt, slipping the key into the lock and giving it a turn, releasing the first shackle. “But you’ve been in these too long already.” You insist, hobbling a little over to the other cuff and unlocking it. You grab the chain part, relieved to find the links themselves are just iron, and pull it off and away. It’s heavy, the weight of it makes your muscles scream. If you had the strength you’d throw it full out of the room.

Immediately the color comes back into his skin and he stands up, stopping just short of embracing you. His fingers tense, as though he wants nothing more than to just embrace you, but even with Teach’s patch job you look rough. Your eyes are sunk in, exhaustion etched in every breath. He looks over every piece of you he can see, and you can see a glimmer in his eyes - rage, relief, and guilt in equal measure.

“Don’t close your eyes.” He says the words softly, so quietly you aren’t even sure they were said until teal and gold flames dance around his hands and arms. The flames themselves aren’t hot, at least no warmer than Marco is, but the gentle heat sinks into your skin, and you can feel a slow, but insistent relief as the bruises and cuts of your ordeal lessen.

It’s a sweet and light relief, like balm on a burn. The sharp sting abates, the dull throb stays, but is so much more manageable.

“I can’t heal it all,” he whispers, as your eyes close from relief. “But I can make it better.”

“Seems we’re a little late.” Thatch says from the doorway.

Izou looks around before looking back into the office. “Where’s that black-hearted traitor?”

“I… am not sure.” Marco says after a moment, looking down at you.

“He’s… um…” You start, and stop, opening your mouth, but unsure of what you should, could, or want to say.

“You don’t have to say anything, pretty bird.” Marco says, pulling you gently into hug. “I trust Thatch and Izou implicitly, but I won’t be mad if you want to keep things to yourself.”

“Yeah, we can step outside.” Thatch agrees. “Marco’s not in sea stone, so we’re not needed -.”

“No it’s…” You lean back and clear your throat. “It’s alright. I think, at this point, it’s better for you to know.” You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Teach found out on his own, and… if he had struck when he said he originally intended to, no one would’ve known. That… could end up being more of a disaster for this island than not, so, I want to say it.

“And, I’ll need to tell Ivan tomorrow.” You sigh a little. Not because you think Ivan isn’t trustworthy, but it’s hard to have to tell someone that you were keeping such a big secret from them for so long. This was nothing like the conversation you’d had before. The weight of the details of your devil fruit often dragged you down as it was.

“I don’t know what the fruit itself was called, there’s no record of it that I’ve found, and The Library doesn’t have an entry on itself, so, no luck there.” You begin. “But the fruit allows for three things,” you tick each item off on a finger. “Heightened hearing and sight, transforming into a Powerful Owl,  and access to, and control of, The Library. Which is, as best as I can describe it, a sort of pocket dimension full of all the world’s knowledge.”

“You… locked Teach in a library?” Marco questions.

You nod. “I don’t think he can leave unless I let him.” You say. “But I’ve never even let someone else into that space before now. I honestly don’t even know if there’s air in there without me in it.”

The three brothers exchange glances, but there’s a long moment before anyone says anything.

“If he’s suffocated by now there’s nothing else to be done,” Izou says flatly, “but the idea of leaving him to starve for… who knows how long he’d last, seems… distasteful. Like drowning a devil fruit user instead of fighting them.”

Thatch nods, but Marco just has a dark look on his face. Izou and Thatch exchange glances again and then look back to Marco.

“He was going to take her to the World Government.” He says after a moment. His voice is flat, but strained, as though he’s struggling to keep control of his own words. “They’re looking for the devil fruit, and there’s a several billion berry reward.”

“Just for information.” You clarify softly.

“He was going to kidnap her then?” Thatch asks and Marco nods.

“I’m not saying we let him to starve,” Marco says after a moment. “But if he leaves this island, and goes to the W.G., then they’re going to come here, yoi.”

“They leveled Ohara for what they might know.” Izou says quietly. “Not even Roger could stop it.”

“Lvneel’s been a good home to us,” Thatch admits, putting his hands over his face and growling in frustration. “Is it really the only answer?”

“We’d need some place truly isolated.” Izou states firmly. “All the first generation should be there.”

“There’s an island north of Lvneel.” You say, “West of Notice Island, it’s not on any maps because it barely qualifies as an island, but there’s enough land there that it has its uses.”

“Isn’t that Drop Island?” Thatch questions, tilting his head.

“I… wasn’t aware it had a name.” You admit.

“Ivankov and the Revolutionaries know about it.” Izou says and you nod.

“I did point it out to Ivan years ago. I wasn’t aware it was being utilized.”

“Just as a smuggler’s drop.” Marco says. “We’d have to coordinate through Ivan, but, considering he helped us tonight, I don’t think that’ll be an issue, yoi.”

You put your hands up and purse your lips, taking a step back and furrowing your brow. “Wait. Wait a second we need to slow down. How’d Ivan help?”

Marco nods to the duffel bag. “Got us the berry on short notice. Drove out of the city to meet up with us to hand it off. Got Tori-chan towed too. Wanted to come with us, but she admitted she would’ve leveled the house and accidentally hurt you in the process.”

“So… Kid knows.” You say, making a complicated face.

“Kid knows your car broke down on the road,” Marco says. “Not that you got kidnapped.”

“He’s going to see that gas line and know.” You sigh with a nervous chuckle.

“How’d you think Ivan was going to help?” Izou prompts.

You shrug. “My assumption was he’d move mountains to help. Whether it was using company funds, my funds, or calling in favors from the Revolutionaries - which she admitted being a part of just recently when we talked about my knowing of them in the first place.” You yawn. “I know those three tried to shi-shield me,” you yawn again. “From the shady side of the business, but half the time I’m piggy-backing on it to move funds anyway.” You rest your head against Marco’s chest, yawning again.

“Your funds?” Thatch questions and you nod.

“I have… a lot of knowledge at my disposal.” You yawn again and lean against Marco even more. “I have a lot of money. More’n… anyone knows.” Another yawn nearly feels like it’s going to dislocate your jaw. “Wow, I’m jus’ really sleepy.”

“It’s been a hell of a night, pretty bird.” Marco says, kneeling down and picking you up, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “And when I heal someone else it’s a drain on stamina, so part of this is my fault.”

“Once the tension of the night passes, relief cuts the energy right out of you too.” Thatch admits. “Are we taking you both back to the big house?”

Marco nods. “Closer is better. She can get some rest, and we can-.”

“No.” You murmur the words, clutching onto his shirt. Your fingers tremble as you try to find words that don’t sound childish, but Marco kisses the side of your head while you’re thinking.

“Seems I’m busy tonight.” He says, holding you close and letting you rag doll into him. “We can all talk tomorrow.”

Note: When the reader says "Powerful Owl" it is referring specifically to an owl that is called "powerful owl" - it's not a reference to actual power.

[my-mt-heart]

11x20 Thoughts...

This one is easily the best episode of the entire season for me, and I'm not just saying that because the bar has been set lower than low. As expected, Daryl's and Carol's arc is pretty action heavy and while I'm still frustrated by the lack of anything overtly emotional, there is a noticeable and beautiful journey playing out for them, so let's focus on that for right now. I'll save most of my cynicism for the end.

The flashbacks in the opening scene are the summation of that journey from Carol's perspective, starting on a bike and ending on a bike. Daryl helped Carol navigate a world overrun by death and tragedy, renewing her sense of purpose (and vice versa). He's her ride or die, the person she can always depend on, but also the person she'll do anything for. Judith says in her voiceover that it's "not just about words, but action," which probably serves to remind us how well their relationship can thrive on the unspoken communication they've established with each other and the acts of service they provide each other.

Lately though, it seems that's also become a point of contention for both the characters and the audience. They need to have at least one heartfelt conversation to verbally expression what they mean to each other so there's no longer any confusion. As disenchanting as this season has been, I do have to imagine that's coming. The pacing has just been all over the place unfortunately. As far as canon goes, if I'm reading the subtext correctly, it's still very much a possibility, but I'm still wary of what it might look like and whether or not it'll be for shock value.

But what a huge relief to see Carol (and Yumiko), driving the story after being unfairly boxed out for so long. We get to follow the women through the thick of everything instead of getting more lovesick Eugene and Daryl the action hero. By the time we even catch up to Daryl, the life is literally being choked out of him because he is in fact "not a superhero" according to Kang (:P), and sometimes needs his partner in crime to his rescue him. Speaking of crime, it's weirdly exciting to watch them play bad cop, worse cop with Lance. I'm going to assume it's because I missed their teamwork so much and not because I'm a sadist. Then again, I also got butterflies seeing the pain on their faces when they had to separate, Daryl staying behind to shoot it out with the CW soldiers while Carol escapes with Lance.

"You were right to leave him behind," Lance tells her after they make it outside the walls, "he was slowing you down." At the same time, he recognizes how close Carol and Daryl are, going as far as to compare them to him and Pamela which you can take however you want, though maybe it's worth noting the sexual implications of their scene in 11x19 ;)

Lance has always seen a lot of himself in Carol, and it's fair to say she sees some of herself in him too albeit a darker version. It wouldn't be the first time Carol's demons take the shape of one of the show's villains. Remember when the apparition of Alpha tried to coax her into killing herself? She resisted the temptation after realizing she didn't want to lose Daryl, and with Lance, it's kind of the same thing. While walking down a dark tunnel, he asks her to think about the possibilities for the future, and yes, there's a larger message in there, but on a personal level, Carol's happiness is with Daryl. He's the light at the end of the tunnel, ready to reciprocate everything she's willing to do for him. After he saves her, they give Lance the opportunity to run away and he doesn't take it, knowing he wouldn't survive being on the run. Carol has to shoot him down, and I'd like to believe this is her way of rejecting that part of herself that always found a reason to run away from Daryl.

The title "What's Been Lost" is unintentionally ironic because if anything it reinforces how integral Daryl and Carol are to each other's stories, and yet there's an emotional void because we're assuming the ending/new beginning their characters deserve is being abandoned for a solo journey that absolutely does not and cannot work. If Daryl's story isn't over yet, Carol's can't be either. Melissa McBride has said as much and I'm going to keep clinging to that desperately while also hoping the next four episodes can somehow make the gross amount of injustices right.

I feel like I've barely scratched the surface here and will probably have more to say later. Apologies if this is all incoherent. It's 5:45am and I'm running on no sleep. The things I do for Caryl...

[transboysokka]

Chronic pain/fibro updates and thoughts from the past couple days I guess since I treat this site like my goddamn diary

First of all let’s talk plans for solutions. My big huge obstacle right now is my daily commute. Obviously when my lease is up in September I’m gonna fork out more cash to live closer to work, preferably (but unlikely) in a building with an elevator.

Until then something needs to change to manage the pain. Here are those options:

Buy another motorcycle/scooter. Driving to work would fix everything tbh but I honestly think it’s such a hassle to have and park a scooter in Taipei

Switch to crutches for the commute instead of a cane. The cane is helpful to my knees but I have a fucked up shoulder too so it’s not a sustainable solution. I’m embarrassed enough using the cane (something I know I gotta work through) so I don’t think I’d even be ready for crutches on that level

Try to bike more to/from work. Here’s the option I’m going to explore! It’s about 5km each way which is super easy for me. I’m not thrilled about the kind of dangerous trafficy route but I’ll try it…

ok now some good news from today!

I’ve been so depressed these last few months just in survival mode from pain but also stuck inside my windowless apartment on weekends dealing with pain when I just want to be active

My holiday to the US was restful and healing in the ways I needed it to be so I’m in a way able to start fresh now being back here

I’ve always mostly enjoyed running or hiking and I’m starting to finally be able to accept that those days are behind me. Even walking for exercise frankly. So it occurred to me to return to cycling, which I used to do a lot and has always been easy to me. Since I can’t ski in Taiwan, as much as I love it.

I don’t have my expensive fancy bike anymore (no place to store it rip) but I rented one of those cheap ass city bikes and rode around about 25km today. It was so. Good. And freeing. And healing. To be able to Get Out again and go fast and feel active. I didn’t go as far as I could have, and I wasn’t in any pain while I was doing it. I’m SO glad I found something I can still do and I want to go on more weekend rides and I think it is going to be so good for me…

Maybe I can even teach my dog to walk next to me on the bike because his twice-daily walks are getting too hard for me too….

[seancekitsch]

Free Me: a Marko x Reader story in the Out of the Rain series

epilogue time! rest of the story found here

Warnings: killing, skinny dipping, vampire shit, surprisingly tame for my usual shit, light smut

Hungry,hungry,hungry is all that runs through your nervous system as he kisses you. You grab him harshly, pulling him in as close as you can, your nails digging into the rough material of his jacket.

Fuck babe, slow down, Marko thinks, and instantly youre calming yourself, rocking back in his lap away from his lips.

“You sure you're okay?” he asks, making sure to speak the words.

“I’m so hungry,” you whisper, your voice watery and far away.

He smooths down your hair, and looks at you with pity, your least favorite of his looks.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he coos, not at all taunting, “We can feed when you’re ready. No rush, love bug.”

“What if…. I’m ready?”

He looks at you deadly serious, his normal baby blues looking almost as black as the inky night, asking the question without actually asking it.

“I’m ready,” you repeat, firm in your tone and out loud.

He breaks out into a breathy laugh, leaning forward until his forehead touches yours, probably warm against his skin for the last time.

Marko’s gonna miss this, in some way. He likes this whole moth to a flame thing and the little bit of a thrill it gives him. He’s gonna like the future with you more though, when you aren’t cooped up in here and you’re on the back of his bike every night. He can’t wait until he gets to hunt and mess around with you for eternity.

Marko slides you off of his lap and back onto the bed where you’d been wrapping yourself up in sheets for the past few weeks. It seems crazy how Star has just… adjusted to being a half vampire. She seems as light and free as the others, where you’re stuck with cold sweats and unmanageable hair and nails and horrible cramping met with the worst feeling of emptiness you’d ever felt. Maybe it’s because she’s lasted so long. From your conversations with her, it seems like she wasn’t as keen on her decision as you were. And maybe she should hate David and the boys for that, but she has family now, and despite her unwillingness to turn she’s quite smitten with her new life.

“I’m gonna go tell the others, do you want them there?” Marko asks as he stands, and you quickly shake your head no. He chuckles and mutters something about a ‘dinner date’ as he walks off to the main living area.

You ball up your fists, squeeze, and then release. The crescent moon shapes of your nails get deeper every day, threatening to break the skin more and more each day. You do it again, and again, focusing on how it feels. Would you feel this pain after tonight?

You find that you hope so, as Marko tells a few guys he finds on the beach that they can play with you if they pay their cards right.

You know he won't let them, but you have to play the role of innocence. Some dumb little bimbo who’s boyfriend is gonna basically sell them to this group of pigs. You and Marko follow them to their shitty place right under the boardwalk, only, they have no idea Marko is still there as the men lead you further under the boards.

“How do you want me?” the guy who holds you arm asks, but you’re not sure he actually cares. He’d be the type to take you however he wants.

“Close your eyes,” you command, and before he can, you watch as Marko dips his fangs into the mans neck, where his clavicle meets his shoulder. Blood sprays from the wound and the man screams, and your body feels on fire, that hunger spiking to astronomical levels. You move naturally, swiftly, and bite into the guy directly across from you, Marko moving onto the third and last guy so none of your entrees go missing.

“Nice one, babe!” he shouts before snapping the leg of the third guy.

You look at the man you’ve grabbed, and fear is melted across his boorish features; you pause. Your human self hesitates, but your hunger wins out.

You dive back in mouth first, tearing at him with your teeth, feeling yourself grow stronger with each gulp. Marko’s right, this is orgasmic. You feel your stomach full for what feels like the first time ever, your nervous system in over drive; the best you’ve felt out side of, well, sex with Marko.

You can feel him subconsciously cheering you on, that mind connection you have bonding you even now as the two of you are feeding.

The man beneath you weakens, what used to be a spray now and oozing trickle of blood from his neck. You drink, and drink, and drink, until the man goes limp in your arms. Fuck, you wanted this. Who gives a fuck about life when there’s this? Life is so futile, so fragile. You think of every single fucking time Marko ran his tongue over your neck, over your pulse. He could have ripped through you like lace. You know that now.

You body tingles, every nerve on overdrive, like seltzer being poured over an amp for a guitar. You shake, from any mortal perspective you shiver like there’s a breeze, but from yours, you wrack your body with sobs, your moans. You anchor yourself on the shoulder of this man, now deader than disco. Marko rushes to you, pulling you off of the body and surveying you, before pulling you in close.

Marko kisses you, his hands coming up to hold you steady; his fingers pressing into your wet cheeks, and only then do you notice your cheeks are soaked. Your lips stop moving against his and where you would normally feel blood rush to your face, cold embarrassment freezes you in your spot.

How fucking embarassing, you think, like a greedy kid at a pie eating contest, some fucking gluttonous thing.

It was beautiful, Marko thinks.

It was fuckin’ sexy, babe.

You nod against his hands.

You barely remember feeding now that it's over. You remember the feeling, the fullness, the euphoria. Will it always be like that? You kiss him back again, pecking his lips, grazing your newfound fangs over his bottom lip.

And then it’s like floodgates open. You’re gripping at him hungrily, pulling at his curls and gyrating against him.

Bite me, he thinks. Bite me, and feel what I feel when I bite you.

You oblige him, biting at his lip until that dark salty taste hits your tongue and floods straight to your core, shivers rising back up your spine. Fireworks explode behind your eyes as you moan against him. Now this, this is better than any other orgasm, anything you could imagine.

Get naked, get fucking naked, you think hastily, trying to shed Marko’s jacket from his shoulders. He laughs, and breaks apart from you to a pout and a whine from you.

“Let’s clean you up, okay? Come take a dip in the water with me,” he offers, letting the jacket fall from his arms. That sounds fucking amazing right now.

You nod enthusiastically, pulling your tee shirt over your head quickly.

Marko gathers up your shirt and his jacket and takes off running towards the shoreline. It becomes a hunt, where you take off after him, trying to rip off your clothes while he hoots and hollers keeping away from you.

“C’mere, you bastard!” you yell, quickly approaching the water. He stops just short of it, letting you ram into his strong back. Marko spins on his heels, and quickly works on unbuttoning your shorts, laughing while you shimmy out of them. He discards his boots and pants equally as playfully, pretending to give you a striptease before just giving up and stumbling out of them. Marko grabs your underwear by the elastic, and using a nail, rips it at the sides to easily pull it from your body.

You yelp, and he winks.

“You know I like you easy access,” he teases, before unceremoniously removing his own underwear. The two of you look at each other, and then the water, and like something clicks in you, you both take off running into the waves. You didn’t even have to think it, the both of you just knew. You dive in before him, letting the cold seawater soak your skin and clean that man’s blood from your skin. Your first kill. Maybe it should feel more momentous than this, but maybe it was and you just didn’t notice. You feel refreshed, renewed like you’ve been reborn, and maybe you actually have been.

When you resurface, hair matted to your forehead, Marko has already resurfaced and waited for you. He reaches out in the water and pulls you close. Your legs on their own accord just naturally drift for fit themselves around his waist where your brush up against him, already hard.

“Aw for me, babe? You shouldn’t have,” you tease, playfully slapping him in the chest. He responds by grinding his hips into you, the top of his cock catching on your center.

“I really shouldn’t have,” he agrees, lining himself up with you, “Play nice.”

Is his only warning before he buried himself into you, all the way until your bodies are completely flush with one another. It feels like the first time again, your body immediately reacting and needing more. You grind against him, needy and already panting.

“That what you need babe? A little sausage after that red wine?”

You smack him square in the face for that joke, but it only spurs him on more, pulling out and slamming his hips back into you, shutting you up from whatever comment you were about to make. His hips piston into you harshly, but his arms hold you gently, keeping you in place close to him as he kisses you sweetly, like he isn’t tearing you apart from below the waist. You thought, as a full vampire you wouldn’t feel heat anymore, but you’re on fire now. He pushes his bottom lip against the seam of your lips, urging you to drink from him again.

That’s right, babe. I love you.

I love you too.

He moans as you start to drink from him again, making his hips stutter. Your moans carry on the waves, out to sea where they’ll be lost to time, just like the two of you.

He keeps you there in the water until an hour before dawn.

When you return to the cave, he lays in bed with you one last time before you join him and his brothers in the rafters tomorrow.

[ragingbookdragon]

Answered Call

Jason Todd x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, Blood & Violence, Mentions of Death

Author's Note: @bunnvoid didn't as but they're gonna receive because I'm only summoned when I smell angst brewing! Based on this piece that Bunn made and the sequel to this! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

The first time he ever held a dead body, he was eight. He felt the warmth leave Martha and Thomas’ bodies, laid there between them, and sobbed for hours until someone finally decided to call GCPD and report the disturbance. The next time he held a body that was so personal to him was the death of his son, and by that time, Jason’s body had already gone cold. He grits his teeth as a tear slides down his cheek from under the mask, refusing to look over at Jason curled up in the passenger seat because if he does, he knows he won’t be able to keep it together long enough to get back to the cave, he’ll break down there. He’s already called ahead, knows Leslie is there, knows Alfred and the others are standing by waiting for their arrival. He just hopes he can make it in time.

Cassandra’s ahead of him on her bike and he knows she’s trying to get them down a street that isn’t crowded, but every one is seemingly packed with people and Bruce can’t help but feel anger well in his chest. His son is dying, and these people won’t move. She screams at the top of her lungs for him, and Bruce has never heard her yell so strongly.

Suddenly, she sticks her arm out and makes a hard left turn, so sharp that her body brushes against the pavement as she does and Bruce only has time to make the turn, then slam on the breaks as he sees Cassandra’s body turned to the side, feet planted firmly on the ground.

He follows her line of sight, and it shouldn’t send shivers up his spine given the fear in his heart, but goosebumps trail up his arms and legs at the sea of flashing blue lights before them. He doesn’t even have time to ask when he sees the green line on the comm click and an all too familiar voice echoes on the line.

All units we’ve got a 10-59 coming down the main street. I want roadblocks on every east and west intersection and street. I repeat, I want 10-93’s on every intersection and street going east and west. Clear the roads. No one goes through except Batman and Black Bat.

Cassandra only revs her bike once, then she’s peeling out in a hail of white smoke as her tires spin and she speeds down the street, Bruce on her tail like a bat out of hell. As they pass, he sees some officers setting up blockades with their cars and barriers, others are moving people left and right, but the majority of them are simply standing in front of their squad cars, right arms cocked up in salutes. Bruce doesn’t have time to admire their dedication because all he can think about is that while the gesture is one of respect, all he sees is the image of a funeral procession.

He shoves that thought as far from his mind as he possibly can, but it decides to stick in the back of it, like a dogeared page. Jason hates it when people dogear books, he thinks. He always says it’s a sin against the very soul of the book.He has to take a deep breath to steady himself away from those thoughts. The last thing he needs is to be blindsided by something he thinks in the past tense.

“Move.” He commands to Cassandra, and she obeys, falling in beside him as he tears down the main street and out onto the highway in the direction of the cave, the purple flames of the afterburner propelling him faster. He watches the navpoint between him and the cave grow smaller and smaller, and it’s only rivaled by the faint and rare beeping of the heart monitor he’s got pinned to Jason’s chest.

Bruce is running out of time.

Jason is running out of time.

The water cascades over the front of the Batmobile as he enters the cave entrance and the titanium doors have already been lifted for their arrival. He keeps going, until he sees the levels of the cave before him. Bruce doesn’t slow, he pushes the Batmobile as hard as she’ll go and jumps her to the second level. The platform shakes from the strain, he sees things fall from shelves, but he doesn’t care because Cassandra appears beside him and she’s already coming to the side of the Batmobile to peel the door up.

Dick and Duke are there, already tugging Jason up and out and Bruce comes up behind them to pick his son up, managing to not jostle him too much as he runs to the operating table Leslie’s already prepared. He sets Jason down and her voice floods his ears.

“Get his suit off.”

Bruce works to undo the clasps and straps on the front of Jason’s suit, and he barely gets them open before she’s sticking heart monitors to him. Leslie turns, fumbling with the monitor and she sees it flicker, signaling Jason’s still with them.

Her eyes go back to Bruce. “List of injuries?”

He lists them with a monotoned fashion. “Shotgun blast to the abdomen, minor wounds to arms and legs, cut to the face—”

A spurt of blackish blood cuts him off and Leslie’s hands are already peeling away the torn skin and her face blanches; Bruce doesn’t need to see, he knows, even as she says, “He’s bleeding internally from his intestines,” her hands shift around, and she lets out a breath of shock. “Jesus, his lung’s been punctured. It’s filled with blood.”

Bruce is there, already grabbing a syringe with a long tube connected. “Which lung?”

“Left.”

He shoves away the fabric from Jason’s side, murmurs an apology, and shoves the needle up and into his lung. The blood immediately starts flowing from the tube and onto the floor, but he pays it no mind. “Suture his lung.” He turns his head. “Cassandra, get the oxygen mask. Put it on him.”

Her hands are swift, and he sees her grab Jason’s shoulder, squeezing tightly, her own agony written across her face. Leslie’s shifting hands make a squelching sound as she moves around Jason’s internal organs but she’s quick and sure once she moves to his abdomen.

“There’s buckshot everywhere,” she explains, “I need someone to help pick it out.”

It’s Dick’s turn to step up as he pulls on the long rubber gloves, holding the tray for her. Some she can pick out with her fingers, others she has to use the long nose tweezers. They get about halfway and Jason’s body suddenly convulses, his heart rate and blood pressure going wild, then he jerks, going still.

Leslie meets Bruce’s eyes for a split second, both of their expressions pure shock and then she’s pulling away, yanking off the chest monitors and grabbing for the paddles. He takes the needle from Jason’s lung, and she places the pads down, one on the middle of his sternum, the other just below it.

“Charging,” she says. “Clear!”

His chest jumps then falls flat back against the bed. Nothing.

“Charging! Clear!”

His chest jumps again, fingers clenching with the shock to his nervous system but there is still no pickup of his heartbeat.

Leslie’s breathing is coming out in pants. She’s scared. They all are. She inhales sharply. “You’re not dying on me, Jason Peter,” she gripes. “Charging!” she rubs the paddles together vigorously, then puts them back. “Clear!”

This time, Jason’s chest jumps and flattens, and they stare for a solid second, Leslie’s going to up the voltage when a beep echoes from the monitor. They look, not believing their eyes nor ears, but sure enough, it’s a steady pulse. Jason wheezes out through bruised and injured lungs, but it’s a breath, nonetheless.

They all breathe a collective sigh of relief, but Leslie doesn’t let up. “Dick, I still need your help with the buckshot.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice hoarse and sticks the bowl back out for her.

Bruce steps back. He lets her work, knowing he can’t do anything more.

He hears the children behind him, Stephanie and Duke are in each other’s arms sniffing slightly, and Tim is pacing back and forth along the walkway. An arm comes around his waist and he spares a glance down. Damian is there, his fingers are tight in Bruce’s utility belt, dark brows pulled together, a deep frown on his face. He lays his arm over Damian’s shoulder, palm flat against the boy’s chest, unspoken words of comfort between them. He feels another weight on his bicep and looks over, this time seeing Cassandra there.

She lays her head against his arm. “Scared,” she whispers and Bruce’s jaw clenches so tightly he swears his teeth are going to crack under the strain.

“Me too,” he manages to reply and Damian’s fingers clench as he turns his face into his father’s side, his small body shaking with every sob. Bruce wants to break down too. He wants to collapse at Jason’s bedside.

Jason don’t leave me again, he thinks, he prays.

“Fight, son,” he begs. “Damnit, fight.”

His children say nothing, but they know the worry built in his bones. Knows what Bruce stands to lose if Jason dies again. He makes a promise then and there, with a quick look back at the old suit still in the case—it seemed to be the brightest thing in the dim cave—he promises, with all the pain he’s feeling, he won’t look away from the outcome.

If Jason dies, he’ll stay beside him.

If Jason dies, he’ll hold his hand.

If Jason dies, he’ll be there to make up for when he wasn’t.

If Jason dies, Bruce will be there with him.

He won’t let his boy die alone again.

***

It takes a long time before Leslie is even close to finished with his surgery, but once she does, Bruce is the first person there, the others following up to Jason’s bed. They’ve dosed him heavily with morphine and other sedatives to keep him stable and Leslie steps back once she knows Jason isn’t going to flatline again. Her eyes find the young boy gripping the blanket tightly, only Dick’s arm across his chest keeping him from crawling up with his brother. She looks up, gazing into the eyes of a man who is starting to look a lot like the eight-year-old boy she once knew.

“I’ve done all I can,” she says, trying to keep the emotions from spilling over; she has to be the doctor right now, not the mother. “But it’s up to Jason now.”

They know what it means. It’s not a promise that he’ll pull through. Jason’s will was probably the strongest of their family, but they knew the young man was tired.

Bruce bends down and caresses his son’s head, pressing his face into Jason’s temple, his lips next to his ear. “I know you’re tired,” he whispers, so quietly it’s as if he wasn’t speaking at all. “If this is all you can do…I understand. If you’re ready…I’ll be right here with you.” His lids snap shut, and he feels the sting, so powerful, like he’d never felt in his life. “But if you’re not ready yet…then you have to fight. We still need you. Your family needs you. I need you.”

He pulls away and gives Jason’s head one final caress before he stands up straight and watches his son’s chest rise and fall evenly. He feels hands at his wrists, undoing the gauntlet but he doesn’t look away to see who it is, he merely lets them take them off.

Damian is perched between him and Dick on one side of the bed, Duke is at the foot, and Stephanie and Cassandra are on the other side. They all stand, watching, waiting, knowing it’ll be hours, maybe even days before Jason finally decides to wake up again, if he does at all.

And so, they wait.

***

“—ar death, who see with blinding sight, blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Dick read the words softly, halfway through the book of poems that he’d found on Jason’s bedside earlier in the night.

He let out a soft breath. “And you, my father, there on the sad height, curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” He looked at the next page.

“Jason likes Keats more than Thomas,” Damian muttered, eyes still shut as he leant against his eldest brother’s chest. “Find When I Have Fears That I May Cease To Be,” he said. “He likes that one.”

Dick doesn’t argue, merely going back in the book and finding where it’s located; when he gets it, he breathes deeply and clears his throat. “When I have fears that I may cease to be, before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, before high-pilèd books, in charactery, hold like rich garners the full ripened grain. When I behold—”

He quiets when Damian shifts, pulling the cape tighter around his shoulders for warmth; once he settles, Dick starts again. “When I behold, upon the night’s starred face, huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, and think that I may never live to trace their shadows with the magic hand of chance. And when I feel, fair creature of an hour, that I shall never look upon thee more, never have relish in the faery power of unreflecting love—”

Bruce overtakes him, voice low and full of heart as he finishes, “Then on the shore of the wide world I stand alone, and think till love and fame to nothingness do sink.” He doesn’t open his eyes or pull his hand away from where he’s got it pressed to his cheek. “John Keats was dying of tuberculosis when he wrote that.”

“He nursed his brother while he was dying of it too,” Damian adds, turning his face into Dick’s chest. “I will not nurse Akhi whilst he dies. He will live.”

They fall into a silence; Dick is still looking for another poem and Damian is trying to meditate. It’s a contemplation beyond what they want to think about, of life and death, twenty-five years is too young to die, and they can’t do it again.

Their silence is broken by a rough voice, scratchy from sleep and heavily laced with staved off pain, but it’s clear enough.

“Hey…old man,” Jason murmurs, and he can’t manage to take a look around at everyone, though he knows they’re there; but he can see Bruce. He can see his father.

Bruce grasps the only finger Jason can manage to raise, his body is still too weak to do much other than breathe, and he whispers back with a tearful laugh, “Hey son.”

[maybanksbitch]

Protector || JJ Maybank

* this is not my gif; all credit goes to the owner.

pairing: jj x reader

prompt: jj promised you he’d stop getting into pointless fights, but a night when you’re not there, he breaks it. he can’t hide how he feels about you anymore.

warnings: swearing, underage drinking, violence, blood

a/n: do i kinda hate how i wrote this? yes. am i going to delete it? nah.

Your phone had been blowing up all night. You had eleven missed calls from John B, 7 from Pope and 3 from Kiara. You had over a hundred unread texts from the three of them combined. You had to turn your phone off at some point after your boss threatened to fire you if he heard one more chime.

By the time you’d finally clocked out, it was two hours later. You turned your phone back on and stood there for a good two minutes as the notifications rolled in. You glanced over texts and felt your blood boil when you got the gist of them.

There had been a party at the Boneyard that night, one you had to miss. Money was tight and your parents needed you to start pulling some weight. JJ had been in another fight. He promised you he would try to control himself better after the gun incident, but clearly he was incapable of that.

You let out a sigh as you slung your bag over your shoulder and hopped on your bike. You pedaled the familiar way to the Chateau, thinking of all the ways you were going to rip your blonde friend a new asshole.

You pulled up outside the house and dropped your bike in the front yard. You burst through the front door, startling Pope and Kiara who stood at the wooden kitchen table. John B was leaning against the wall, a tired look on his face and a PBR in his hand.

“Finally,” Kiara sighed and walked over to give you a welcoming hug.

“We’ve been trying to reach you for hours!” Pope exclaimed in an accusing manor.

You gave the dark skinned boy a look and painted a sarcastic smile across your lips. “Yeah, I know. Greg nearly fired me because y’all wouldn’t shut up,” you retorted.

John B just stared at you from across the room. He had a fresh bruise on the right side of his jaw near his chin as well as dried blood near his left eyebrow. You walked over, reaching up to brush his hair away and inspect the split skin on his forehead. He pulled back and met your eye, shaking his head slightly.

“Where is he?” you asked as you dropped your bag on the kitchen table and went for the spare room.

“He’s outside,” John B grumbled, taking a long drink from his beer.

You turned with your eyebrows creased in confusion. Kiara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose as she spoke, “We told him he couldn’t come back in until he had a level head.”

It clicked in your brain in that moment. John B’s injuries weren’t from fighting Kooks. They were from fighting JJ. That infuriated you even more. What could have possibly happened for the blonde to want to fight his own best friend?

You turned without another word and pushed the screen door open forcefully. You stepped out onto the back patio and looked around. You saw a mess of blonde hair on the hammock not far away. JJ knew it was you and didn’t dare turn his head to acknowledge you. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of you.

“What in the hell did we talk about?” you sneered as you stormed over to your best friend. He stayed in the same position, head turned towards the water, arms crossed over his chest. “JJ, look at me.”

“I really don’t want to do this right now,” was the response you got.

A sarcastic laugh left your lips as you walked around to the other side of the hammock, forcing the blonde to look at you. “Well that’s too damn bad. Have you seen John B’s face? What’s gotten into you?!” you questioned, voice desperate as you tried to get the boy to talk to you.

JJ simply sniffed once and shrugged his shoulders a bit. You felt your hands start shaking. He was trying to brush you off and hope you would just let it go, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“JJ, you can’t just start swinging every time someone looks at you the wrong way! I thought we had an understanding. If you keep getting assault charges, one day they won’t just let you walk! I know the Kooks are absolute pains in the ass, but sometimes you just have to let it go!” you tried to reason with him.

The opposite happened. A switch flipped in JJ because you had no idea what happened. He leapt off he hammock faster than you could blink, voice like thunder as he shouted, “You don’t know what they said about you!”

You were shocked, taking a step back as one of your hands came up defensively to your chest. You blinked slowly as you stared at the enraged blonde. He was breathing heavily through his nose, hands clenched so hard at his sides his knuckles were white and you were sure his nails were drawing blood.

“What?”

“Rafe, Topper, Kelce.. All those pieces of shit!” JJ threw his arm, knuckles cracking against the tree. He was trying to divert his anger away from you. “The things they said about you. About your body. About using you!”

His arm went to swing again but you grabbing his bicep before his fist connected with the tree again. You were afraid he was going to break his hand at this point. The sob you heard JJ let out nearly ripped you in two. You went in there, guns blazing, when you didn’t know what happened. He was trying to defend you; protect you.

“Oh, J,” you whispered, placing your hand on the side of his face. You pulled him down and forced his head against your chest then wrapped your arms tightly around his shoulders.

“I blacked out, (Y/N). They wouldn’t stop saying those things and I lost it. I just kept picturing them hurting you,” JJ cried into your chest, tears soaking through your shirt but you didn’t care.

“It’s okay, JJ, it’s okay,” you mumbled, reaching one hand up to thread through his hair. You could feel grains of sand against his scalp, surly from being thrown around by heartless Kooks.

JJ sniffles and lifted his head, teary blue eyes meet your e/c’d ones. His bottom lip quivered and he closed his eyes to try and will himself to stop crying. His voice cracked as he tried to talk again, “I didn’t mean to hurt John B either, promise. I was just still so angry when we got back here. He didn’t help me. He didn’t help me defend you.”

You smiled sadly and placed both of your hands on JJ’s face, wiping his tears away with your thumbs. He slowly opened his eyes to look at you again. The amount of love and adoration you saw in them damn near took your breath away.

“It’s not John B’s job to defend me, babe. It’s not yours either. No one has to defend me,” you whispered, fingers threading together on the back of JJ’s neck.

The blonde boy leant forward until his forehead was resting against yours. Soft breaths left his parted lips and spread across your face like a blanket. He smelled like cigarettes, marijuana and beer mixed with sunscreen and saltwater; your favorite scent. His scent.

JJ moved to his own accord, ignoring his brain screaming at him not to do it. You’ll make things weird. You’ll ruin everything. She won’t love you back. He ignored it all and nudged his head forward until your lips connected. You could have sworn you saw fireworks go off behind your eyelids. Every nerve ending your body flared up and tingled. Your lips fit together like pieces of a missing puzzle.

No wonder neither of you could figure out why it felt so weird hooking up with Tourons this whole time.

When you pulled away, breathless and dizzy, you opened your eyes to find JJ’s already on you. The widest smile he’d ever seen spread across your face, a giggle slipping past your teeth. A simple ‘wow’ was whispered between you both. An equally large grin enveloped JJ’s face as well. He pecked your lips roughly five more times before pulling back completely and rubbing his hands over his wet face.

You wrapped your arms around the skinny yet muscular boy’s waist and rested your head on his chest now, listening to the steadying beat of his heart. You felt at home in his arms.

“I think you should apologize to John B, or we’ll be sleeping out here tonight,” you mumbled into the soft fabric of his long sleeve shirt.

“As long as I’m sleeping with you, I don’t care,” he retorted, slender arms encasing you. You tilted your head up and gave him a look that said ‘I will not be sleeping out here with the mosquitoes’ and he let out a small laugh. “Okay, yeah, I should apologize.”

The two of you walked hand in hand back into the Chateau, JJ’s head hung sheepishly as he met John B’s eye. Moral of the story, you ended up in the spare room, tucked under a tan blonde’s arm; where you belonged.

masterlist

[multifandomhoodies]

Finnpoe Rec List!

There’s some really fantastic Finnpoe fics out there and I’ve been setting aside fics from my bookmarks for this for a while! These are just some of my faves, so enjoy!! 

Canon/Canon Adjacent (not AUs outside general Star Wars universe) 

“how to become the spark” by sassy_ninja (G - 49.7k

Poe Dameron, commander of the Resistance fleet, best pilot in the galaxy, hotshot trigger-happy flyboy, he's all of these things plus a little bit more. This is the story Poe Dameron, shy farmboy, doting son, idiot gay, soldier who tries his best not to be broken by the war roaring around him and most of all just a human in a galaxy which doesn't care about things like love, friendship and fear. This is how he breaks and how he begins to heal again and how he starts to learn what it means to be alive. Or Poe Dameron's life from his childhood to the end of the war.

“bathed in blue light” by delgay (M - 17.4k)

When Finn turns to his right, Poe stands beside him, looking up at Finn and giving him what might be a smirk if he weren’t too busy smiling. It’s that same smile that’s made home on his face ever since Finn said, “I’d like to see Yavin IV. If I’d be welcome.” Poe had blinked fast, but the smile came slow. “Buddy,” he’d replied, “I’m offended that you even had to ask.”

A year after the Battle of Exegol, Finn and Poe visit Yavin IV. While there, Finn struggles with the Force and his complicated relationship with Poe.

“we slept with our backs against the weather” by bogpersons (T - 8.4k)

Poe’s breaths come in stops and starts, and wheezes on the inhale and exhale. He sounds like a dying man. Finn lifts Poe’s hand to his lips, presses it there, squeezes his eye shut. Something harsh and painful swells in his chest, finds a place under his heart and pushes and pushes and pushes until Finn can barely breathe with it. You are a Human Person. Finn and Poe crash on a jungle planet. Finn struggles with himself.

“We Stan A Healthy Family Dynamic (The Kes Verse)” by AphroditesTummyRolls SERIES (Not rated, 161.7k)

Get in losers, we're giving the Star Wars Sequel cast the story they deserved-- Particularly Poe and Finn.

[Set after the events of TFA, rewrites of TLJ and neat little bits in-between. Poe deals with the aftermath Kylo Ren’s interrogation, dealing with regret and trauma, with the help of his friends and dad through a rewrite of TLJ.]

“your love will be safe with me” by incalyscent (T - 8.6k)

when finn stripped away the violence from himself, what did he have left? it was love; love; love.

“i’m yours (and suddenly you’re mine) by spacepilotprince (E - 4.3k)

Finn snorts against Poe's stomach, and it forces a ticklish laugh out of him. “Laying it on a little thick tonight, aren't you?” Finn asks as he looks up at Poe, and finds that grin he heard in his voice.

“Not the only thing that's thick,” Poe says with a smirk, glancing down between them towards Finn's cock.

“Oh, shut up,” Finn laughs, surging up to kiss him, muffling Poe's laughter. Poe runs his hands over Finn's shoulders and tips his head aside, sending Finn's mouth down his jaw and neck.

“Contact” by earthmylikeness (M - 9.9k)

Because what could Finn do but live through it? Live in the remains of his own shipwrecked mind, his badly-crossed wires. Imagine Poe’s perpetually bitten mouth on him - his wide, calloused hands on his bare chest, pulling him down and down whenever he so much as closes his eyes. 

Finn has a delayed reaction to surviving the crash.

“Best Laid Efforts” by cosmicocean (T - 3.7k) @cosmicoceanfic

In which Jessika and Temmin do their best, aren't even subtle about it, and Poe and Finn are still morons.

“Ad Pacem” by SteveTrevorsStarship (T - 1.5k) 

Finn knows war and rebellion so far. He doesn’t know peace. (Yet.)

“First Comes the Night” by coffeeinallcaps (E - 20.1k)

He doesn’t get nightmares. He doesn’t dream about the mask, the cries of the villagers, waking up in the desert with a blinding headache and his mouth filled with blood and the man who’d saved him gone, most likely dead. Instead, he just can’t sleep.

“have you heard” by peradi (Not rated, 42.1k)

"I heard FN-2187 was a Stormtrooper." 

Finn sparks a revolution.

“Doubt” by Cadoan (T - 1.4k) 

After the battle of Crait, something has changed in Poe. Poe can't sleep, and Finn goes to find him.

“Neither Here Nor There” by d8rkmessengr (T - 7.8k)

Sometimes, it felt like he wasn't really here. Sometimes, it felt like it wasn't really over. And the one person who tethered him left to finally tell Rey something. Post The Rise of Skywalker.

“How to Be a Finn” by Ayashiki (G - 111k)

In a hindsight, all of it - the stolen childhood, the crash on Jakku, Han Solo's death, even the lightsaber to the back - was easier than living in this world of invisible social clues and inside jokes, the whirlwind of this ragtag family that defied any logic, the caring, the compassion, the love. And all the while people tell him: Finn, you are so brave! Finn, you are so strong! Finn, you are so kind! Finn, thank you for saving my life! And FN-2187 looks to the stars and desperately tries to find this "Finn" everyone seems to know in himself.

“On the Other Side” by StarMaple (T - 27.2k)

Finn discovers the differences first hand between the First Order and the Resistance and establishes a space for himself on D'Qar.

“we are all stardust” by synergenic (Losseflame) (Not rated, 15.3k)

Finn wakes up. He wakes up slow, the rising tide of consciousness making him aware, firstly, of how stale his mouth tastes. Then it's the general stiffness of his body, the foreign feeling of a pillow beneath his head, the softness of the clothes he's wearing. Finn doesn't think he's ever worn clothes so soft.

“No Sleep till Brooklyn” by TheCarrot (T first chapter, second chapter E, - 10.4k)

Poe is exhausted. And not just because he hasn’t slept for more than three hours at a time in Force knows how long. Moreover it’s the 39 flights he’s run in the last 22 days and the fact Pava had gotten deathlike sick eight days ago and then they had fallen behind on a few supply runs and an emergency evacuations of some of their pathfinders and then there had been a last minute scramble to one of their allies in the mid rim with far too many TIEs to be comfortable and then- well, Poe just wants to fall over onto the floor and stay there.

AUs

“Time of the Underdog” by beeeawolf, SERIES. (G & T, 56k)

Modern times AU, Poe is a former Navy pilot who was discharged after a crash and being a POW. Finn is a university student who manages to catch Poe’s run away dog, BB-8, who’s literally everything to him.

“We Didn’t Start the Fire” by MayGlenn and cognomen (E - 10.7k)

There’s a calm that claims them all when they’re working and it’s going the way it’s supposed to; the low-level hum of concentration and focus and adrenaline that keeps them on edge without panic. The crew deploys from Idaho, a home base that they see perhaps 3 weeks out of the entire 26 week fire season, interspersed with time in camps and housing all over the country. This week, it’s California—sunny, liberal, beach lined, and on fire.

Finn's a Hotshot firefighter; Poe's the team Helitack operator. They're headed to California to fight a fire in San Jacinto; dangerous country.

“It’s Not Goodbye” by mssrj_335 (T - 25.9k)

Finn is an ex-soldier on a solo motorcycle trip across America. Poe is the mechanic in a small desert town. Poe wants to keep his secrets and Finn is running from something--or toward it--and the part for his bike is going to take at least a week to come in. What starts as a quick stop and awkward flirt devolves into a conspiratorial intrigue of a very personal nature. Lights in the desert, headaches and vague memories all point Finn to something that has Poe tied in knots. He just has no idea how far that something will take him.

“A Possibility (A Promise)” by sapphistication (T - 5.9k)

Poe, Prince of Yavin, is briefly reunited with the Resistance Fighters lead by General Leia Organa. After three years apart, he quickly finds that his affections for Finn are of a different nature than he remembers. Despite the war they find themselves in, they share a few moments of peace by the fire, filled with soft words and meaningful smiles. Time works against them, but Poe seeks a possibility and makes a promise.

[awhitehead17]

Batfam Alphabet: F - Fear Toxin

Summary: When Tim gets injected with a new variant of Scarecrow’s fear toxin, all Jason could do is hold the kid in his arms to stop him from getting injured further as he waits for back up to arrive. 

A/N: As a warning violence happens, nothing too graphic but here’s a warning just in case!

Enjoy! :D

Jason pauses when his fingers grasp nothing but empty air. Snapping his gaze down, he frowns when he finds his pocket completely empty. He sighs and curses. This is just what he needs, he’s ran out of antidotes.

He looks up across the street to find Tim administering an antidote into another cowering civilian caught in the crossfire of Gotham’s latest villain scheme. Jason jogs over to his brother and glances at him through his helmet. “You got any more? I’m out.”

Tim shakes his head regretfully. “No. That was my last one. We really underestimated how far Scarecrow’s toxin got this time. We don’t have enough.”

Jason hums in agreement and observes their surroundings. They’re together in a back alley of Gotham’s streets, one that had been hit badly by Scarecrow’s latest fear toxin. They had the task of vaccinating all the civilians around with the new antidote. Back in the cave they calculated an estimate number of many people populated the area and had prepared more than enough between them, or so they thought, unfortunately their numbers were far from right leaving them with not nearly enough antidotes.  

Around them now, many civilians are still under the hallucinations of the toxin, some are screaming, crying or even violently yelling at empty air. Jason swears again, this is not how the night was supposed to go.

He’s brought out of his thoughts when Tim turns to him. “We’re going to need to go back and restock. We’re not much use otherwise.”

“Agreed.”

He wonders if the others are having similar issues with numbers and the lack of antidotes. The team’s spread out around Gotham’s most targeted areas, all of them working in pairs for safety and everyone working their asses off to help people in the city.

Wordlessly the two of them head for their hidden vehicles in a neighbouring alley. As they prepare to climb onto their bikes Tim glances his way to say something but ends up yelling in alarm instead. “Hood watch out!”

It’s thanks to Jason’s reflexes that he’s able to duck underneath the swinging arm in time to avoid being hit. He brings his gun out and turns to face his attacker. His attacker is probably middle aged man, a little on the heavy side and he’s wearing a shitty Halloween mask to hide his face. Jason dodges another swing and returns the favour, he takes him out in three quick and precise strikes with his hands.

A loud grunt gets his attention and Jason spins around to find Tim caught in a head lock with a gun pressed against his temple. Tim’s attacker is too wearing a mask as were the four others who now surround them. Where they came from Jason has no idea. How the hell did they miss these guys who had obviously been waiting and hiding for them to return to their bikes?

As Jason levels his gun at Tim’s attacker the four others surrounding him also raise their guns pointing them in his direction, this concludes them all into a standoff.

Tim’s attacker speaks up first. “Put that gun down or I blow his brains out.”

Behind his mask Jason rolls his eyes. How fucking cliché? He keeps his gun up though, pointing at the man and in a cocky statement he takes the safety off with an audible click. The man holding Tim snorts as he had been expecting Jason’s disobedience.

“Very well. I’ll show you how this is going to go. You get one warning and mate, you’ve just used that warning.”

He kicks Tim’s legs out from underneath him and lets him go, unexpecting the abrupt movement Tim crashes to the floor. Once he’s sprawled out on the ground the attacker stamps on one of Tim’s hands, causing a rather loud and sickening crack to ring out. Jason winces as Tim yells in pain but before anyone could react further the same man manhandles Tim to his knees and resumes their previous position.

He cocks the gun and presses it to Tim’s head. “Now, if either of you act up, you’re gonna get a hurt whole lot worse than a broken hand. Now follow us. No funny business! Get his gun!”

One of the men come and wrench Jason’s gun out of his hand and all Jason could do was let him. He doesn’t want to risk Tim any more than he has to.

He and Tim are marched out of the alley and into another before being directed into an abandoned building. They’re walked into the middle of the room and forced down to their knees, once on the ground a couple of the thugs come over to grab their hands and tie them behind their backs. Jason grits his teeth and refrains from doing something like headbutting the asshole, while next to him Tim lets out a pained grunt as his broken hand is jostled.

When they step away Jason twists his body awkwardly to get a look at his restrained wrists to find them tied with cable ties. Jason huffs in disbelief. His attention is soon brought back to the room when one of the attackers speak up.

“Boss we got’em just like you asked.”

Jason straightens up when a new figure walks into the room only to grit his teeth seconds later when Scarecrow is revealed. The bastard doesn’t stop moving until he’s looming over them. Unable to help himself Jason speaks up, sarcasm heavily laced in his tone. “Same shit different day Crane. Why don’t you go and get yourself a new hobby, go for something like knitting perhaps.”

Crane turns his head towards Jason, his expression hidden by that stupid potato sack over his head. “You would like that wouldn’t you? If I were gone there would be nothing to fear. Perhaps that clown but nothing else.”

“Sorry to break it to you but you ain’t that scary.” Jason quips, glaring through his helmet.

“Maybe not right now but with a little help, I will be, I’ll become your greatest nightmare.” Crane reaches behind him and pulls out a box, he makes a show of opening it up and producing a syringe filled with a clear liquid. “A person can learn to control themselves when feeling great emotion, sadness, happiness, anger, but never in times of fear. Fear is the minds greatest enemy and that’s why it’s so powerful, why even the greatest of men fall.”

Jason watches as Crane drifts over to stand in front of Tim, his brother simply looks up with a hard and determined expression not saying anything. Crane fiddles with the syringe in his hands, studying Tim as he does.

“It won’t work. We’re not stupid Crane.” Jason says feeling dread build up inside of him. He knows what’s about to happen and he has feeling he knows exactly what Crane’s response is going to be.

“I know. That’s why I’m sure you’ve worked out that this is a different toxin I’ve produced to the one I’ve already distributed. One of which you don’t have an antidote for.”

For the first time Tim speaks up, snarling at the man in front of him. “Go to hell Crane.” Scarecrow doesn’t answer Tim, instead he reaches down and grabs a fist full of Tim’s hair and yanks his head back to expose his neck.

From his position Jason lurches at the movement, ready to pounce but it stopped when the thugs immediately zone in on him. Guns point at him and at Tim, simply daring him to make another move. Uselessly he settles back down on the ground.

Crane jabs the syringe into the kid’s neck and injects the liquid into Tim’s body. Once it’s empty he steps away, pushing Tim down to the ground as he does. Jason is torn between worriedly watching Tim’s unmoving form on the ground and Crane’s retreating figure from the room.

One of the thugs speak up. “Uh boss now what? We not killing the big one?”

“No.” Crane says firmly. “He has a choice to make, come after me and leave the other to suffer or help him and let me go.”

“You bastard!” Jason yells as Crane exits the room, disappearing from his sight. “You’ll be sorry you’ve left me alive! I will kill your ass when I next see it.”

Jason snaps his attention to Tim who is now whimpering on the floor. He needs to get help, he needs to get Tim to the cave so they can start working on a new antidote to whatever the hell Crane just injected him with.

With some difficulty, Jason twists and wiggles around so he can move to get his restrained hands in front of him. Using a move Dick once showed him, Jason tucks up tightly loops his arms underneath his body so they go underneath him and end up in front of him. It tests his flexibility for sure but it works.

Once his arms are in front of him he reaches up and presses the comms, getting Barbara’s help.

“O! I need immediate assistance!”

“Hood what’s going on, why did you and Red Robin go radio silent-”

Not having the patience Jason cuts her off. “Now’s not the time! We ran into Scarecrow and he injected Red with a new toxin. We need to get him to the cave asap.”

“Shit. I’m alerting the others now and sending them your location. Do what you can to help Red.”

“Already on it.”

Jason signs off and moves to break the cable ties around his wrists. He tightens them up as much as possible, raises his hands over his head and brings his fists down to his stomach in one fluid movement. Upon impact the ties break and his heads are freed.

Not wasting a second he scrambles over to Tim who is now starting to wither on the floor, whimpering pitiful sounds. Knowing there’s not much he can do, Jason decides to break the ties from Tim's own wrists, he’s aware of Tim’s broken hand but that’ll have to be dealt with later on.

At least that was his plan up until he puts a hand on Tim’s shoulder. As soon as Jason touches him, the kid freaks out. He lets out a scream of terror and suddenly jerks up right and starts to scramble away from him. Jason freezes in shock as he watches Tim try and move away from him, but the kid’s movements were hindered by his hands being tied behind him.

“No no no no. I’m sorry. Please I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. No no no. It won’t happen again I promise.”

The words were quiet and raspy but Jason could hear them clearly in the silence of the room. He needs to stop Tim from moving and also to prevent further damage to his hands. He cautiously approaches Tim again, crouching down low and taking slow steps forward, but at the moment Tim only sees him as a threat. The kid screams and continues to try and scramble backwards away from him.

“No no no! I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me…”

Jason frowns at the words as his heart lurches inside of his chest at the sound of Tim’s pleading voice. When he takes another step forward Tim only screams again, making Jason freeze on the spot. He really ought to get Tim to stop moving, Jason doesn’t particularly want to use force to get him to restrain his movements but he doesn’t think he has any choice.

Sighing Jason takes off his helmet, something he admittedly probably should have done before now, and approaches Tim again. As expected the kid screams and begs as he tries to shuffle away, his legs kicks out and his body contorts uncomfortably.

Pretty much out of options Jason lunges for Tim. He grabs the kid’s ankle to stop him from getting any further away before diving onto the floor and situating himself behind Tim. He wraps his legs around Tim’s thighs and knees, pinning them in place and he wraps his arms around Tim’s torso and shoulders. He holds on tightly as Tim tries and fails to buck out of his grasp.

While the kid screams in his arms all Jason could do is hold him and wait until backup comes. He counts the never ending minutes as they tick by. His brother is weakly fighting his hold while tears stream down his cheeks as he whimpers out pleas, it breaks Jason’s heart to hear it all.

Thankfully the cavalry soon arrive, they burst into the room and take in the scene before them. Both Dick and Bruce rush towards them and immediately start making plans.

“How long ago was he injected?” Bruce demands as he grasps Tim’s chin. Tim tries to get out of it but Bruce holds firm as he removes the kid’s mask and studies his dilated pupils.

“Twenty maybe thirty minutes. Right before O contacted you. Crane got away.” Jason reports automatically. He’s furious about Crane of course but family comes first, he couldn’t have left Tim alone in this state.

“Hold him still.” Bruce grunts as he digs through his utility belt. After a moment he produces a small blood sample kit. With quick efficiency Bruce takes a vial of Tim’s blood, caps it off and holds it out to Nightwing who had been hovering on the side but not getting in the way. Dick takes it without words. “Get a head start to the cave, Agent A is preparing to start a new antidote trial.”

Dick nods, his gaze lingers on Tim before his head tilts in Jason’s direction. “Keep me updated.” He disappears before Jason could respond. When Dick is out of sight his attention is drawn back to Tim and Bruce.

“We need to get him to the car and then to the cave. You’ll need to keep him restrained so he doesn’t hurt himself.”

If the situation were different Jason would both be peeved and even upset at the detachment in Bruce’s tone of voice. Unfortunately in this situation he can understand why Bruce is like it, not being emotionally invested will allow him to focus on the task at hand, which in this case happened to be getting Tim back to the cave and working on a new antidote. He’ll let himself feel everything once he knows Tim is safe and sound.

Together he and Bruce manage to get Tim into the batmobile. The kid does nothing other than scream, whimper, plead and cry as they move him. Jason makes sure to tell Bruce about his hand and once in the car Bruce relays the injury to Alfred in the cave. Once they’ve worked out the antidote they can work on his hand.

Getting back to the cave seems long and tedious but once they’re there they move Tim from the car and into the medical bay. They settle him down on one of the cots, having to restrain his wrists and ankles to the bed to stop him moving so much and Alfred updates them on the situation with the antidote.

They were fortunate enough to be able to come up with a temporary antidote in that short amount of time. It turns out Scarecrow hadn’t used a new toxin but rather the same one as before, the only difference in this one is that there are hints of Poison Ivy’s hallucinogen concoction. Dick and Alfred quickly worked together to combine the two antidotes making a new one altogether.

Without much hesitation they give Tim the new antidote and watch as the kid quietens down on the bed and falls unconscious. It’s only after Alfred deems everything is okay that they all can breathe somewhat easily again.

While Dick, Bruce, Jason and Barbara (over the comms) discuss the next steps and about what the current situation is looking like, Alfred stays with Tim and patches up his hand, fixing a cast over the skin and bone until they can get it looked at professionally.

As plans are being made Jason watches Alfred work, his worry for Tim still heavily stirring inside of him. He doesn’t think he’ll be forgetting those petrified screams any time soon. Once the kid wakes up Jason is going to have a long chat with Tim, one to rest his own subconscious and secondly because he wants to make sure the kid is mentally okay after the ordeal. He’ll make sure Tim gets some proper r&r after all of this and maybe even for himself too once Crane is dealt with.

[theanimeview]

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT SKATE-LEADING☆STARS (Spoilers)

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @peggyseditorial​

I have said it before, and I will say it many more times--of that I am sure. I used to be a competitive figure skater. It was a long time ago, I had stop in high school due to several consecutive head injuries but I still love and follow the sport (I also still skate, just not competitively). 

When Yuri!!! on Ice was out, I loved it because it showed a lot of the cultural parts of skating. The travel, the personality types (in some cases, though not as much), the publicity, the news coverage, etc. We had cameos of famous skaters, we got to see competitions in a pretty realistic way, costuming, the dance and/or gymnastics that skaters must do on and off the ice, and so much more! (I could probably nerd about all the easter eggs and everything else all day long.) The skating in Yuri!!! on Ice is good too. The sounds are near perfect and the movements, though a bit stiff due to the use of CGI, are accurate. 

THAT ASIDE I think Skate-Leading☆Stars is better. In regards to the culture of skaters, SL☆S falls way short but that’s alright. After all, this is a sports anime set in a high school where sports is an all consuming entity and reality takes a back seat to guys with eccentric hair colors. The skating is what's important here and OH LET ME TELL YOU it is near perfect.

Let’s look at this: 

This is our MC, Kensei Maeshima, doing a triple axel (I think they called it a quadruple in the anime which would mean 4 spins but I counted 3 so I’m calling it a triple for now). It’s the only jump that takes off going forward in skating and is one of the most difficult jumps. All of the movement here is accurate--from the way he jumps up and straightens his legs as soon as possible with arms tucked in to help the spin, to the way he lands with a slight bend of the knee, curving around and throwing out the arms for balance (and flare). 

It’s gorgeous. And it continues. When we see Kensei practicing, we get these shots: 

A Sit Spin ^

Crossovers ^

And a Salchow ^ (I think it is Salchow, but if could be a Lutz--the uncertainty comes from me finding it difficult to decipher which edge he’s on before jumping).

ALL OF THESE are beautifully animated and correct--from the way he pulls his arms in quickly and straightens his legs before bending for the landing again to the way he moves after landing. 

Crossovers are especially good as they help build momentum quickly before jumps, allowing a skater to travel more during their jump. 

And when he falls, you see something else that they train you for in skating--how to fall. It’s literally the first thing I was taught when I began taking lessons. Let me explain--in the gif above where he falls coming out of the Salchow, we see this:

He landed on the correct foot, but was still coming out of the last half of his last turn. His other foot, which is meant to swing out, around, and behind him, before guiding the glide out of said jump, hits the ice at an angle as he lands thus causing most of the ice shaving we see happening to the top layer of ice as his other foot slides out from under him. 

Now, if your feet went out from under you--the first thing that you might do automatically is go to your knees or hands to protect your fall. In skating, it’s a bit different. If you fall, your aim is to quickly move to try and let your butt or thighs take the hit while trying to avoid joints (knees, elbows, and wrists) and head injuries. What does Kensei do? He quickly turns to land on his butt first:

His hand skims the ice, but he moves it up, and off the ice as he bounces:

He then turns during the bounce, aiming to land on his thighs (less painful in my experience, and less risk of a tailbone or head injury as you continue to bounce and slide on the ice). His arm extends outward to avoid hitting his elbow directly on the ice with the weight of his upper body against it, while moving the arm up, placing his bicep closer to the head (which will help prevent his head from smacking against the ice):

Finally, he stops sliding and has, officially, “landed” his fall:

Note how the head is tucked in, resting a bit on the bicep, his elbow is not being leaned against (or broken after this fall) since it is laying flat, and how he is on his side? Yeah. That’s a pretty great fall. 

You’d be a little scratched up after that if the ice was rough and since he wasn’t wearing a jacket/gloves--but you’d probably avoid bruising or any severe injuries. The reason for the fall was probably a combination of the scratched up ice (which he credits), being out of practice, and his need for more muscle training.  Still, AWESOME. He’s doing really well for being as out of practice as he is. 

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE STORY??

Okay--Now that I’ve nerded out about the skating I’ll talk about the larger story.

Kensei is hated by his current team. It reminds me a lot of the hate that was given towards Ren Mihashi in Big Windup! prior to transferring schools. 

Kensei is obviously very talented--I mean, not everyone can come back from being off the ice FOR YEARS and do jumps like that without seriously hurting themselves and falling all over the place. It’s not like riding a bike--it’s more like highly skilled dancing... on blades... on a very slippery surface where you are likely to seriously break something. His team hates him for some reason, and act like he’s not a team player or something but he doesn’t come off that way. Perhaps a bit overly confident for their liking, but he clearly has the skills to back it up and we have proof that he can play on a team since we’re shown him playing basketball in Episode 1 and told that he’s played on and been scouted by a number of other teams at the school.

If they dislike him because of him quitting for a while, I’d say they need to get over it because we learn in the first few minutes of the anime that before Kensei’s last competition he lost both his parents--who were professional ice-skaters--in a traumatic accident. 

In the flashback we see of him as a child, the reference point for why so many of his current teammates seem to hate him, we see that Kensei doesn’t seem to have any friends. In fact, our antagonist Reo Shinozaki is the one seen surrounded by people and other kids. While Reo doesn’t seem to regard any of his peers as being friends or equals, it’s pretty clear that he is at least liked more by the other kids than Kensei who is alone. 

As a teen, Kensei has made several friends outside of skating which we see in the current episodes but he still hasn’t made much headway with the other skaters--though at least one of the older kids, Yukimitsu Mochizuki, is nice to him. Some of the members are obviously mad at him for something and wish he wasn’t part of the team and maybe that’s because of his boisterous personality but more likely its due to something more petty, like jealousy or envy at Kensei’s skill or some sort of lack in communication. (Remember, they were all individual competitors going against each other at one point, and when your friends are also who you actively compete against it can get pretty ugly.) 

That’s not to say Kensei is without flaws. As mentioned, he is overly confident at points and makes careless statements about a few of the other members’ being of lower skill or caliber than him despite knowing that he is out of practice and that they take the sport very seriously. If I was to apply this to my own experience as a former skater, it may be like when I had a falling out with many of my skating friends after I had to stop competing and no longer attended lessons. Many of them, particularly at our young age and level, couldn’t imagine giving up skating for any reason aside from losing life or a limb. Concussions or the after effects didn’t feel real to them (nor to me), and yet the pain I felt doing simple spins or moving quickly left me in pain and feeling like I had just slammed my head against the ice. Some felt like I was quitting just as the real competitions were getting started (entering adult competitions). One friend later told me that she felt like I had quit while I was ahead, “robbing” her of the chance to beat me, as though I would have know that. A few others said that it felt like I didn’t care about them or the sport anymore when I stopped coming to group lessons. Meanwhile, I felt like I was being abandoned and lost now that I couldn’t do the one thing that had consumed much of my free time and focus in life at that age... But it’s okay now, because I found anime. (JK--it all worked out as we got older and talked things through.)

I’m sure that as the series progresses, these combative issues within the team will work themselves out and I’m looking forward to it!

Comparatively, it feels a LOT like the Free! series (you remember that swimming anime we were all obsessed with?), though the focus on ice skating that we see within the series thus far (such as news stories, the number of clubs and schools that have ice skating clubs, youtube-videos, and other media) imply that ice skating is as prevalent there as basketball or volleyball. Which, as much as I’d love that to be true, is simply not the case. It’s fictionalized, obviously, and the story is really laying on the drama pretty thick from inter-team disharmony to a larger rivalry with our antagonist that said antagonist doesn’t even seem to register, think about, or give two hoots towards.

As for the rest of the fictional universe of this world... Uh. It’s a high school sports anime so what do you expect?

Simply put, it’s a standard story for this genre. 

I have not yet read the manga--but I plan to immediately. 8/10 recommend streaming on Funimation.com, and 10/10 on animation (if only for the skating). The next episode comes out on the 10th, so now is a great time to catch up! 

[blewink]

heated // kth

warnings: dom!taehyung, sub!reader, fingering, daddy kink, cum play?, you get the jist

word count: 3.1k 

a/n: hi its been a while ! i hope you’re all still here, schools a bitch but i still love writing :) send in a request if you’d like :p also let me know if you’d like a part two bc i have many ideas

-blue

You always hated mock debates because your professor would always place you against your biggest competition, Kim Taehyung. Even though you two were on the same team, you both were top of your class since middle school and always trying to be better than each other. And oh so lucky for you, you were now at the same college and both on the debate team. 

“Ms. Y/N”- your thoughts were interrupted by your professor, who was sitting in the first row of seats in the empty auditorium. “You and Taehyung to the podiums please. Your first topic is global warming and how it affects the younger generation.” You were confident in yourself and usually you never doubted your senses. As you walked up to the podium, a chill ran up your spine, it was abnormally cold in the auditorium and the short uniform didn’t help you at all. 

The bright lights filled the stage, providing the slightest bit of warmth. You looked to the  other podium, seeing Taehyung already looking back at you, you scoff and roll your eyes, looking back down at your paper which you had already begun writing notes on. “Do either of you need more time to prepare?” Your professor asks, you both shake your heads in response, “Okay Taehyung you may begin.” You gulp, sure you were good but so was Taehyung, and his handsome face didn’t help you either- wait what?

“Global warming is an ever growing issue that impacts the entire world, but more so for the incoming generation, as they are the ones who will be needing to tend to the dirty world that the older generation left behind.” God he’s good. He continues, 

“The younger generation now has to clean the mess this older generation has left behind-” 

“My opponent here is simply restating what he just said, so I’ll take it upon myself to continue. This younger generation essentially has no more childhood because they now have to come up with ways to make sure they have a livable future,” You take a short look at your notes, “A great factor causing global warming is carbon dioxide emission. We now see more of the younger generation taking this into consideration and we see more of them riding a bike or walking to places rather than using a car.” 

While speaking, you can feel Taehyung's eyes burning into your body, making your cheeks heat up. You glance at him and he’s biting his lip, making you quickly look forward to your professor. He always did this, trying to make you flustered and make you trip on your words. It worked the first couple times but you eventually became accustomed to it, this time being no different. 

A couple minutes passed and the debate went smoothly, however it took a heated turn at some point and you two were practically at each other's throats. This topic was something you were very passionate about, as it was the whole reason you were going to school for. So when he mentioned that big corporations' emissions levels didn't have a real impact on global warming, you were quick to fire back at him. 

You completely ignored everyone's looks at you as you were eager to make sure Taehyung knew he was in the wrong. You were quickly interrupted by your professor, “Y/N that's enough, your point was proven. Please take the rest of the hour to calm down in the rest area in the back room.” He points behind you and you quickly apologize and make your way behind the curtains and into the back hallway.

You hear some mumbling behind you and footsteps following yours. You turn and of course, it’s Taehyung. “Hey y/n, you good?” You take a deep breath before answering him, “Yeah I’m good, just what you said wasn’t right.” You finally make it to the back room and lay across one of the couches in the room. You hear him sit on the couch just across from yours. “How could I be wrong though? I did my research and it said that big companies don’t contribute as much CO2 emissions as common people.” Is he really still on this? You were getting pissed off, “Did you really come in here just to piss me off more?” 

You sit upright to face him, he has a smug look on his face, meaning he was up to no good. “Baby, you have got to loosen up, you’re too cute when you’re all flustered.” He gets up and walks to the door and locks it before walking back over to the bookcase. Your cheeks flush at the pet name, “You’re not doing this to me again,” You get up and walk over to him, “You’re not gonna pretend to flirt with me just to distract me from the debates.” 

His fingers trace the book spines, making you wet you panties a bit, fuck you and your stupid hand kink. He hums, “Well, for one, the debate is over and there's nothing to distract you from. And second,” He pauses and faces you. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you close to him, your faces are meer centimeters away now, “Who said I was pretending?” Your eyes are wide and you can’t believe a word he says. You back away from him, laughing, “You’re kidding right? Alright who set you up to this?” 

He laughs at your response, his voice dips lower than usual, “You are so oblivious, aren't you baby?” The pet name and his deep voice make your knees feel weak and you let out a small whimper. You quickly cover your mouth and pray that he didn’t hear that. His movement freezes and you look over at him, he laughs again, “Did you like that? Hmm?” His eyebrow cocks up, but you stay in place and quiet. 

He walks toward you and you step backwards until you feel a table hit your lower back. He presses his whole body against yours and brings his lips to your ears, “I asked if you liked what I said, I’m gonna need a response from you.” You nod but it seems to not be enough for him, he grabs the backs of your thighs and pulls you up and places you on top of the table. His hand reaches for your chin and he forces your eyes to meet his, “I need you to say yes or no, do you understand pup?” The new name makes your knees impulsive close but his body between your legs blocks them. “Yes.”

“You need to tell me if you want to stop because if you don’t, I won’t. Do you understand me?” You quickly reply ‘ yes.’ His lips dive into yours, his saliva tastes sweet and his tongue deepens the kiss. His hands quickly untuck your dress shirt and he carefully unbuttons it, his hands travel to your breasts. He gives them small squeezes, making you moan into the kiss. You pull away and unclasp your bra, revealing one of your biggest secrets, your nipple piercings. 

You earn a gasp from him and your face goes warm, “No point in being embarrassed baby, you’re absolutely stunning.” He ducks down and sucks on your nipples, which were hypersensitive. You’ve soaking through your panties at this point, he stops his actions, “Wait, do the piercings make them more sensitive for you?” You nod, forgetting the vocal rule, which it seems he did too as he continues his actions. His teeth lightly tug at the barbs, making you moan. You slap your hand over your mouth, remembering you aren’t too far from the main stage. “No no no, I wanna hear baby.” Feeling careless you move your hand away. 

He pulls you off the table, eager to hear your noises again, “Take your skirt off for me baby” You unzip your skirt from the side and let it drop. He removes his tie and dress shirt and he unbuckles his belt, quickly ridding himself of his pants, leaving him in only his boxers. His cock was very visible and pressed against the fabric of his boxers. “Lay on the couch for me.” You do as you're told. 

He comes up to your face and quickly kisses you, he moves to your neck, then trails down to the hem of your panties. He spreads your knees apart, and traces the wet spot on your panties, “Awe did my little pup ruin her panties?” His finger barely grazes the fabric on top of your clit, “Only because of daddy’s words.” You both freeze and you immediately start to apologize, “I’m sorry let’s just pretend-” He stops you, “No it’s okay. Daddy likes the name.” He winks at you and pulls your panties off. 

He drags his finger down your slit and slightly presses into your hole. The teasing makes you whine, “More daddy.” He looks back up at you, “Tsk tsk, we must not have manners huh?” “Wha-” A hard smack to the side of your ass cuts you off. You let out a choked moan, “Mmm little pup must like that.” He pulls your hips up and turns you over, on top of his lap. His hand rubs your ass before he gives another hard smack. He gives about five more before the pain turns into pleasure. “Look at you such a little mess, your poor little pussy is leaking all over the couch. Such a dirty little pup aren’t you?” You finally realize your pussy was indeed leaking, your inner thighs felt cold and you felt yourself dripping. 

“Please daddy, touch me.” His hand was now cupped over your cunt, “Thank you for using your manners, where would you like daddy to touch you?” You press against his hand, “Clit, hole anywhere, please” Your voice is barely a whisper, but he complies. You’re still laid over his lap and he spreads your legs apart and rubs your clit with small and slow circles. “I wanna see your little cunt leak some more, that okay with you baby?” You nod your head, “Yes daddy.” 

His movements slightly increase in speed, making your body shake in pleasure, you feel more of your juices leak out of you. “Fuck baby, you get so fucking wet, all for me isn’t that right?” “Yes daddy, all for you.” He plunges two fingers into your needy hole with ease, you immediately clench around him. His fingers fuck you at a moderate pace and he then adds a third and soon a fourth. His fingers are long and press against your sweet spot. His other hand rubs your clit, “So close, keep going” His fingers keep pumping in and out of you, “That’s it baby, cum for me. Make daddy proud.” His words send you over the edge, your orgasm pummels your body. His fingers ride you through your high, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. 

You sit up back on your legs. You notice the obvious wet spot on the couch, Taehyung gets up and rids himself of his boxers. He sits back down and pats his lap. You notice his size now, he’s long and thick but you know you can take him. You straddle his lap and you can already feel the tip of his cock pressing at the entrance of your cunt. “Take it when you're ready,” You want to tease him so you take his cock and rub the tip along your pussy, coating in your juices. You bring it back to your hole and you lower yourself slightly onto the tip, barely taking him. He’s quick to notice your teasing and gives a slight smack to you ass, “Don’t be a brat, take the cock like it’s yours-” You lower yourself completely, cutting him off. 

His hands immediately go to your waist and you moan because his cock is pressing directly on your sweet spot, you whisper into his ear, “Holy fuck, I could literally cum right now you’re so big.” Your sentence ends in a squeak as your body shivers. Your cunt is still completely stuffed with his cock, you lift yourself slightly and fall back down. His grip tightens with every time you come back down, “How the fuck are you still so god damn tight? Did I not prep your little cunt enough?” You shake your head, “No you did fine, just fuck me” 

He flips you onto your back, “Oh I’ll fuck you alright.” His hips immediately snap against yours, the fast pace makes you hold onto his shoulders. Your whimpers and the sound of skin slapping fills the room, “That’s right, such a good pup for me. Taking my cock so well aren’t you?” You nod. He brings his lips to the side of your neck, sucking lightly and licking. He grabs one of your legs and brings it to the side of him, his cock goes deeper than before and abuses your poor sweet spot, “Gonna cum.” His cock pumps in and out of you, “You gonna cum all over this cock aren't you baby?” Your nails dig into his skin and your body buzzes. 

You feel something wet splash onto your inner thighs and look down, “Did you cum?” you ask, a little confused. “Not yet baby, that was you. You can squirt?” A shocked expression covers both your faces, “I guess so, no one has ever made me cum like that.” A slight blush fades on your cheeks until you realize he still hasn't cum. He grabs your hips as though he’s ready to get up but you whisper in his ear, “I want you to cum in me.” 

Not a second passes and his hips snap against yours, giving you a hard thrust deep inside you, making you shiver in overstimulation. He continues and his grunts get higher in pitch indicating he’s close. You purposely squeeze around his cock and say, “Fill me up, please, I’ll do anything. Please-” You gasp as you feel his hot seed spill into you. He doesn’t stop until he milks himself completely. He pulls himself out and his seed quickly follows after, and you quickly lift your hips, attempting to avoid making a mess on the couch under you. 

He quickly gets up and heads to the bathroom on the other side of the room, grabbing some paper towels, wetting a few. He quickly walks back and places some under your bottom, you assume he’s going to wipe off your cunt but he pulls your hips down, making his cum spill out of you. You shiver at the sensation, but Taehyung’s fingers quickly spread his cum all over your cunt. He scoops a bit from your leaking hole and he brings his fingers to your mouth, you comply and suck his fingers clean. “Good girl.” The praise makes your cunt squeeze, allowing more of his seed to spill out onto the paper towels. 

You then feel a cold towel wiping between your thighs, cleaning up the mess created. “Jesus, I’ve never had a load this big, I swear, sorry it’s such a big mess sweetheart.” There’s genuine concern coming from his voice, making you blush a little. “It’s fine, you don’t have to worry about that.” He cocks an eyebrow up but his eyes are still glued to your cunt, “So my baby’s taken loads this big before?” You close your thighs out of embarrassment, but Taehyung’s quick to open them back up, “Answer the question.” You shake your head, “Not by a guy, I just have toys that do” 

The confession makes your face burn red and Taehyung hums and quickly finishes cleaning you and the couch up. You both quickly get dressed as best you can before Taehyung continues the conversation. “Listen I do like you, like a lot. I’m not trying to make this a one time thing.” You feel relieved knowing it wasn’t a one time thing, knowing someone like him doesn't come around too often, “Well it’s a good thing I’m not either.” He grabs the sides of your face and kisses you gently on the lips. You kiss him back and let your eyes flutter closed. It’s more intimate than the ones before, you’re the one to pull away for air. His lips are pink and covered in saliva and you can assume yours are too.

“So what are you doing after this?” You’re still trying to fix your skirt, by flattening the front, “Well nothing really, just the tournament tomorrow” He grabs your hand and interlaces his fingers with yours, “How many toys do you have baby?” You bite your lips and it takes you a second to recall you every growing toy collection, “Quite a bit.” He hums, seems like he likes doing that, “Well why don’t you take daddy to your apartment and do a little show and tell for him, hmm?” Your cheeks go red again, despite him already having been balls deep inside you. “What exactly do you mean my show and tell?” He brings you closer to him, “You tell daddy about your toys, then you show me how you use them.” You’d never shown anyone your collection before, but it made you excited. You quickly opened the door and tried to walk as quickly as you could back to the stage, as it was the quickest way back to the parking lot. You weren’t expecting anyone to still be there but your professor called out your name just as you two were about to leave the auditorium. You quickly turn to Taehyung to ask him, “Did you give me any hickies?” His eyes widen and stare at your neck. Amazing, how lucky could you be. You quickly pull your hair out of your ponytail and try to cover your neck. “Hey Professor Yu, did you need something?” She comes closer to you before saying, “Did you and Taehyung figure things out?” You quickly nod, “Yeah it was a simple misunderstanding.” Taehyung quickly interjects, “You could say she just needed to scream it out.” Professor Yu’s face twits in confusion, “Well good, I can’t have my two best kids at each other's throats. Speaking of, you look like you might have bumped into something there.” You laugh it off and say it was just make up you were trying out in the backroom, which for some reason she believes. “Well, I’ll see you two tomorrow morning at 7am sharp. You two have fun until then.” She turns away and Taehyung quickly shouts, “Don’t worry we will!” You jab your elbow into his side, “Jeez could you be more obvious?” He laughs at you but drags you out by the arm to your car, “We better get home quick, it’s gonna be a long night.”

[munamania]

happy hawkins holiday hiatus to @mikewheelerthepaladin !! here’s a lighthearted fic + a playlist of songs i listened to a lot while writing, i hope you enjoy 🥳

& a big thank you to @sevensided for putting this together, it’s been super fun <3

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’s the first time he’s been in over a year, really, but he’d entertained the thought of asking Will over the summer, for one last challenge before he left. It never happened, everything went by too fast; and, honestly, Mike didn’t know how to talk to him with the goddamn weight of everything - hi, we’ve barely spoken in the last year and we just almost died, again, and now you’re moving away forever - wanna hang out?

It’d never been that hard.

And it sucked. The whole thing. Now that Will is gone, it gnaws at him daily that they could have had more time together. Or a proper goodbye, at least. Instead, he spent a lot of time last summer sitting around, figuring out how to approach El and his feelings toward her, and most of all, alone.

But now the Byers are coming home for Christmas. And staying with The Wheelers, on top of it all.

So, seeking some sort of cryptic universal answer to his life problems, Mike returns to the place of a lot of younger memories, of crowding around machines with Lucas and Dustin and Will, a conglomeration of shouting and booing and cheering when one of them topped a high score, of frantically patting down their pockets for a few extra coins.

All of these wistful memories come to halt, however, when he finds a familiar redhead occupying one of their favorite games.

Max glances at him through the screen. “What do you want?”

“Uh, to play?” Honestly, he doesn’t care; he’s not sure he could focus enough to win much anyway. “Kicking your ass would be a plus.”

“Yeah, as if.” Her gaze fixes back on the colorful pixels dancing in front of her face.

Okay, well, she’s not moving anytime soon. He could probably just walk away, but a part of him wants company, even if it’s from someone hellbent on disagreeing with him.

Even when the Party hangs out now, Mike finds himself bickering with Max over what movies to see, where to eat, nearly anything, even when he doesn’t really give a shit. It’s the principle of the thing, and she gets under his skin. 

Maybe it’s a good thing.

Mike sighs, leans against one of the neighboring games, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know why I’m here.”

“Well, if you’re looking for me to throw pity money at you, it’s not happening.” After a beat, and losing the level, she kicks at the machine and turns to him. “Now look what you made me do. All your moping and talking - I could’ve beaten that if you would just leave me alone.”

He offers a quarter.

“Forget it.”

“I’ll buy you a pop, then.” She glares at him. “Seriously, okay, this is the first and only olive branch. Take it or leave it.”

After a moment of scowling at him, her arms folded, she slowly concedes, a smug look taking over. “Okay. I’ll take it, Wheeler.”

“So, you’re stalking me at the arcade because… of nothing?”

Mike presses his lips into a line. “I’m not stalking you,” he says, “and it’s not - it’s not nothing. I was gonna ask Lucas or Dustin to come, but… I felt like I needed to be here alone.”

Max sips on her drink. “That didn’t work out.”

“Guess not.”

“So you did need to talk to someone.”

“Guess so.”

God, this is borderline painful. Sitting in a shoddy little booth across from Max, whom he never once intended to have a heart-to-heart with, is a new level of desperation. But here they are.

With the most grandiose sigh he’s ever heard in his life, Max straightens in her chair. “Well, I don’t love giving advice to annoying teenage boys, but I’ve been told I’m good at it. Advice, you know.”

Mike raises an eyebrow. “Was it El who said that, by chance?”

“Bite me.”

Amused, Mike smiles, and he slides the near-empty cup between his hands like a little game, something else to focus on. “Okay, fine, give me some advice.”

Max frowns at him like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Maybe give me a situation to work with?” She mutters something under her breath that he doesn’t bother with.

“Well, the Byers are coming home and staying with us, and I wanted to come up with something really nice to do, you know. I know that they’re really nervous because it’s… the holidays have been rough, the past few years.” He finishes his drink and stares at the lid. “They almost refused. So, I dunno, I figured I could do something to make them feel like it’s still home.”

“Oh,” Max nods, finally breaking into a slight smile, “well, cool, you could set up something really romantic for El! She’d love it.”

Right. The girlfriend. 

He had no clue where the hell they left things when the Byers moved. About a month ago, Mike called to tell her the distance was confusing and they might need to take a break. He figured she would’ve told Max because, from his understanding, they spoke on the phone on an almost daily basis.

“Sure - yeah, yeah, that’s - it’s a good idea. For sure.”

Max falls back into a confused squint. “Was there something else you had in mind?”

Mike isn’t sure how to get it out without sounding like a total airhead. So he copes with it the best way he can. “You know what, this was dumb. I’ll figure it out myself.” He grabs his jacket and stands to leave.

“No, no, Mike - I want to help.” She’s looking up at him with a genuinely nice expression, holding out a hand to stop him from fully up and leaving. “I’m really good at this stuff, just let me know what I can do. No judgment. I swear.”

“I have to get home tonight anyway,” Mike says cautiously. “Told my mom I’d help with dinner.”

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

He frowns, and something digging at his stomach makes him respond with, “Why do you care?”

Max’s jaw sets. She stands up to meet his eye level and sets a look on him. “Even if I didn’t, even if I couldn’t care less about you, Mike, I care about El. And Will. And I want to be a part of their homecoming. So maybe you could figure out a way to not be a dick about it.” She snatches her drink cup and storms off from the table, leaving Mike to scramble after her with more apologies.

He’s gotta get better at this whole ‘girls’ thing.

He catches up to her outside. “Okay, listen - come over after school tomorrow. We can meet outside by the stairs.”

She barely turns to him, says, “Fine,” and then hops on her bike and rides away.

That’s how Mike ends up with Max in his basement, slowly walking and examining his things, but not touching any of them, thankfully.

It’s going alright, thus far. A part of him feels like he should reach out to Lucas and Dustin, too, since they’re also Will’s best friends. But something about this… works. He and Max can’t seem to stay entirely civil in each other’s company, but she gets something. And she hasn’t brought up El even once since yesterday.

“So, I’m gonna come up with a really cool campaign - well, I’ve been working on it, and I can tell you about it - “ Max lifts herself on tiptoe in his peripheral vision, “ - but anyway, we can pull an all-nighter, if everyone’s up for it, and make snacks and drinks and stuff, and we can have movies on for you guys, and I thought I might even look for some costumes because I really think Will would get a kick out of it. I can put lights up, too - “

“You draw?”

Max’s back is to him, as she’s looking over his wall of posters and pinned pictures. As he steps closer, he realizes her eyes are fixed on a sketch that definitely bears some resemblance to him.

“No, Will sent me those,” he says quickly, not wanting to seem like a giant narcissist, because Will’s drawing is - how can he say it - beautiful. “He’s been using charcoal a lot recently, he told me he got some new art stuff. I think he wants to send one of all of us.”

Max turns to him, and he can’t tell if she’s tearing up for some reason, but she quickly wipes any sign of tears away. “That’s so neat,” is all she says at first. There’s a small silence between them, and she’s just looking at him, and he has no idea what the hell he should say. “He’s such a good person,” she adds quietly, “I wish I got the chance to really know him.”

Mike’s breath hitches for a few seconds. “Yeah. I mean, he mentioned hanging out with you a few times.”

A smile lifts the girl’s cheeks. “Yeah, to bitch about you, mostly.”

“Hey!” he protests, but he can’t help but smile too, this time. This might just be their most pleasant interaction to date. “He never mentioned that.”

“I don’t know how he could, all you freakin’ do is talk.”

“Whatever.” Mike messes with some Christmas crafts on the table, holding them up in his vision to see where they might fit in the basement. He clears his throat. “You know, El and I, uh - we split.”

Max nods slowly. “She said you guys don’t call much.”

“No, we didn’t. I mean, I don’t even call Will, we just write.” He leans against the table, eyes glazing over as he looks over years of memories, dorky craft nights, and shitty school projects that he or his mom made a point to keep. “It’s too hard to talk - to either of them, you know. I didn’t think I could hear their voices without…”

Max cuts him off. “I get it.” She crosses over to the table, helping him pull apart old paper snowflakes. “I’m just the opposite. I’m scared if I don’t talk to them, I’ll convince myself it was all fake. And maybe it’d be for the better, but I’m glad I knew them. Even if only for a little while.”

Mike bites down on his lips, attempting to bury all the emotion threatening to spew out of him. “Yeah.”

Max finally looks up at him, and though they seem to have shared a moment, she snaps back out of it. “All offense, Mike, these are ugly as shit. I’m helping you make new ones, okay?”

“It’s for the memory!”

“No more living in the past.” She raises her eyebrows at him, and he pinches his face in annoyance, so she says, “Okay, you can put them up, in like, little corners, but we’re making new ones. Surprise. Work with me here, Michael.”

“It’s my basement, Max.”

“Did you or did you not ask for my help?”

Mike blinks. “Not really.”

She throws a crafty paper star at him. “Shut up, you’re glad I’m here.”

He shakes his head and moves on, but though he may never admit it, a part of him really is glad.

Weeks pass in what feels like a span of days or maybe hours, with Mike and Max sorting out their surprise plans with a typical amount of bickering - but hey, they get it done. Max has lots of opinions about decorations and music that make Mike roll his eyes, but she’s got a good eye and she offers to help with baking, which is not a strong suit of his. Yes, they throw a lot of streamers at each other, and threaten to storm out every other hour, but it gets done.

And the day is finally here.

Mike pulls himself into his best festive sweater and eyes himself in the mirror. He messes with his hair, though the long, wavy curls never seem to fall exactly into place - maybe growing it out was a mistake - and tugs at the creases of his sweater, letting out a huffy breath. None of it is working with him. When he can’t stand looking at himself anymore, he dashes down to the kitchen to help his mom with desserts.

She smiles when he plops into a seat. “You okay, honey? You seem a little tense.”

Mike jolts. “Uh, yeah, just excited.”

“Good! Joyce said the kids haven’t stopped talking about the trip for weeks.”

Great. “I hope we live up to the hype.”

“Oh, Mike. You know you don’t have to try that hard.” Karen stops frosting for a moment to look at him. “Will’s your best friend. El is excited to see you,” she nudges at him, and he coughs out a nervous laugh, “and Joyce thinks you’re an angel-”

“God, mom-”

“I’m serious. Don’t worry so much.” She leans forward on her forearms. “I know you think every problem in the world is on you, but it’s not. It’s enough just to be around the people you love. If anything, you’ve gone overboard.”

Overboard. Hopefully, it’s not too much.

Finally, he caves, exhaling slowly with a simple, “Okay.” He stays beside her, tapping his fingers, and eventually ruining a gingerbread man’s face until she notices and smacks his hand away.

There’s a knock on the door, and while Mike hops to his feet, his mother calls out, “Come in!” earning a panicked look from him. She mouths, ‘Chill,’ but he still half-jogs to the door and throws it open.

Nancy calls down the stairs, “Who is it?”

It’s Max, brandishing a few small wrapped gifts.

“Hello, sunshine,” she says. After a moment, “It’s great to see you too, Michael, allow me to invite myself in.”

“It’s just Max,” Mike calls back. He steps aside, and Max brushes past him, dropping her gifts by their tree and running into the kitchen. 

“Hi, Mrs. Wheeler!”

“Hey, Max, Merry Christmas!”

Mike’s mom seemed to think Max was one of the most charming people on the planet, something they frequently disagreed on, but he can’t be mad at their pleasant chatter right now.

Especially not when the next knock comes so soon.

Probably just Lucas and Dustin, dragging their feet as usual.

Mike opens the door, prepared with a quippy remark for his friends, but his stomach drops immediately.

It’s Will. Holding a bunch of luggage.

Mike is caught up in everything about him. He’s taller. New, floppy hair, tousled and messy in the biting snowy winds. His forearms exposed as his bags push against his jacket. Will.

The boy smiles at him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Mike manages.

Will looks past him with a tiny wave, and Mike turns to see Max beaming and waving back, and then Max slips back into the kitchen and Will returns his gaze to Mike. “Can I come in?”

“Hey, Mike!” Joyce interrupts from the car, straining to grab something in the backseat. “Merry Christmas, honey!”

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Byers!” Mike, finally catching up his brain-to-movement reactions, moves to let Will in. “Yeah, come in. I’m gonna, uh, go help your mom.”

“Cool.”

He immediately forgets why he’s moved and attempts to step out as Will crosses the threshold, almost knocking him over, so Mike grabs his arms to stabilize with a, “Sorry - uh - whoops, haha, don’t fall,” and Will chuckles and shifts a bag to his shoulder, saying, “It’s alright,” and Mike spends his walk to the Byers’ car trying not to curse himself out.

“Oh, Mike, thank you, sweetie,” Joyce grunts, pulling a heavy tote bag from the floor of the car. “Can you carry this?” Mike nods and takes it from her easily, offering his arms out for extra luggage. Together, with Jonathan, who greets him with a, “Merry Christmas, man,” they manage to get everything inside in one trip. Mike hardly notices El rummaging through the trunk until she comes stumbling along with a basket full of gifts.

Finally, they’re all inside, and only a beat goes by before Nancy comes bounding down the stairs to greet Jonathan, and Joyce is grinning around at everybody, and then Karen rushes in from the kitchen with excited greetings.

“It is so good to see you,” Joyce says, opening her arms up to Mike for a hug. “You’ve grown so much-'' she looks at Karen and mutters, “-so much-” then looks back at Mike. “We’ve missed you all.”

“I’ve missed you guys too,” Mike says, “I’m glad you decided to come.”

“We couldn’t miss it. Figured it’s best that we’re together, you know.” Her expression falters, but she takes a breath and carries on with moving bags and ‘Merry Christmases.’

Joyce and his mom wind up chattering, and Karen takes off her apron to help transfer some luggage to the spare room. Nancy takes Jonathan’s hand and heads upstairs, grabbing one of his bags from the ground.

Will seems to have disappeared into the kitchen with Max, leaving his things behind, so it’s just Mike and El.

Mike takes in a deep breath.

It wasn’t an ugly breakup; honestly, El seemed unfazed. Their calls were little more than small talk about their days, most of the time, and even though he thought they might hold onto their past, everything they’d been through… it seemed to work best that they didn’t.

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

El smiles easily. “Merry Christmas, Mike.” She lifts the basket slightly for acknowledgment. “Can these go by the tree?”

“Yeah, yeah, go for it.”

El nods and slips by the couch over to the tree, carefully laying out the gifts. After a few moments of Mike awkwardly leaning against the couch arm, thinking up something to say - thank god she didn’t seem too focused on him - Max walks in, her mouth stuffed with a truffle.

“El!” She darts over to the tree, and El jumps up, eyes bright, immediately throwing her arms around the girl’s shoulders. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” El giggles. “I brought you a gift.”

“You too. I can’t wait for you to see it. But first, you have to try one of these sweets Mrs. Wheeler’s making. They’re like frickin’ heaven.” She holds out the last bite of her own, and El takes it from her hand, eyes lighting up mischievously as she bites into it.

“It’s amazing.”

“I know. I think we should go sample some of the others.”

Mike calls out to their backs, “You guys better leave some for later on,” and in response, hears Max mimic him. He rolls his eyes and stands up from the couch.

And then it’s just him and Will, who’s beaming at him, seemingly amused by their banter.

Okay, Mike, now or never. “Uh, I’ll show you downstairs.”

“We’re not staying in your room?” Will asks simply, crossing over to retrieve his duffel bag.

“We totally can, I just have something I wanted to show you.”

Will nods. “Oh, okay, cool.”

Mike assists with a smaller bag and leads him to the basement door; before he runs down the stairs, he catches Max’s eye, and she gives him a thumbs up and mouths, ‘You got this.’ Deep breaths. At that moment, he’s incredibly thankful for her presence. 

He watches as Will follows him down, slower, glancing around at the familiar surroundings. His eyes catch on everything Mike and Max put together over the past few weeks, and his footsteps grow slower as he takes it all in.

Streamers of all festive colors and off-balance fairy lights hang along the corners of the basement, phrases of ‘Welcome home,’ hand-cut and pasted on the front wall; at the table, a game mat and figures sit in wait, silly hats placed in front each chair; even the TV is prepared with a Santa hat, the couch covered in blankets and pillows, a few sleeping bags folded on the floor.

“Mike,” Will says quietly, stepping in a small circle, “what is all this?”

“Your homecoming party.” Mike is all jitters; he leans against the wall and shoves his hands in his pockets to disguise any visible shakes. “You like it?”

Will finally looks straight at him, an indiscernible look painted on his face. “Yeah,” he says, nodding rapidly, “yeah, it’s great - but we, uh,” he swallows and shakes his head, “we don’t, um, have to play D&D. I mean-”

“I don’t know, Will,” he ventures to step away from the wall, taking slow steps over to the table. Will follows every move. “I mean, I was really excited to have you back, even just for a little bit. We all were.” He reaches the table and leans back on his hands. “Figured having our cleric back warranted some festivities.”

Will shakes his head, runs his hands along his face, and turns away. The bit of confidence Mike has slowly starts to trickle.

“Is it okay?”

Will shakes out of his stupor and chuckles. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. You’ve truly outdone yourself, Michael.” He lifts himself on tiptoe to look at decorations on top of Mike’s shelves. “Are these from our big craft night, like, years ago?”

The horrible crayon work makes Mike smile - they made half of the snowmen evil, citing a Great Abominable Snowman War, and gave them wicked frowns and smiles, claws on their stick hands. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you kept them.”

“I keep everything.” An awkward chuckle breaks from his chest. “Not everything, like, a hoarder or whatever, but - “

Will simply smiles and pushes himself forward toward the back wall, brushing past Mike, to his different pinups. He fixates on the sketch of Mike that he’d sent about a month back. “You know, you should probably take this down. I don’t think you’ll hear the end of it from Lucas and Dustin if you don’t.”

“Screw ‘em.”

“Right.” Will quirks his eyebrow and moves to sit in his designated chair, right next to where Mike is currently resting. “So, they know about D&D?”

“They know.” Mike smiles, and looks at the floor, right where their legs brush up against each other. “They seem pretty excited to have the party back together. To remind you of how badass your first one was,” he adds.

Will peers up at him for a moment before quietly saying, “I never joined another one.” Mike meets his eye for a moment, then, threatened by the silence that follows, clears his throat and distracts himself with a particularly interesting notch in the wood paneling. “Did you guys find someone else?”

“No, no,” Mike assures him. “We haven’t touched any of this stuff. It’s not the same.”

A silence settles between them, one that neither seems to know how to navigate. But Will keeps his gaze steady on Mike, trying to breach some barrier, to fall back into their usual ways.

Something is different, though; it’s not uncomfortable, it never could be, but it’s something intimidating. Will seems more comfortable, at least; he’s not shying away from anything Mike throws at him.

And he tries to break the silence first. “Y’know - “

“Will,” Mike cuts him off, and he’s not sure what he’s saying, or where he’s going with it, but he knows he’s supposed to say this. His name. “I need you to know that I missed you.”

Will blinks at him, cocks his head. “I missed you too,” he says matter-of-factly.

The words are eating at him, right there on the edge of his mind, and Will looks almost concerned and now Mike just wants to drop it because that’s not what he wanted. But he can’t, not now. “I missed you the most.” It sounds so juvenile. “More than everyone else. I missed you before you even left. I just didn’t know how to say it.” He breathes in and out, focusing on Will’s cheeks, the tip of his nose, anything but his eyes. When Will doesn’t say anything, the rest just spills. “I missed you when our first first day of school apart came and passed, and I didn’t even call. I missed you at homecoming. And,” he licks his lips, not really sure where his speech is heading, “I know you had to go, it’s fine. We’ll figure it out. But I feel like we haven’t been on the same page in a long time. So, I missed you, and I love you, and that’s that.”

Will looks at him funny, and then his face softens into something like laughter, and Mike is genuinely about to run and throw up somewhere, but then the boy closes his eyes and says, “I love you too.”

Mike blanches. “I don’t think I said that.”

“Oh, you definitely did.”

“Oh,” he nods, mind spinning, “well, you know…”

Will stands to be at Mike’s level, leans forward on his knees. Mike stops breathing. “I do,” he says, “but tell me again.”

Mike swallows down a breath of courage and suggests, “I think I might like you.” His eyes flit to Will’s lips, then back to his eyes. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll allow it,” Will says, a bright smile causing lines near his eyes. Mike smacks at his arm, nervous laughter coming out with a quiet, ‘Shut up.’ Will moves so he’s resting his fingertips on the table. Inches away.

“Same page, then?” Mike asks.

“Same page, yeah, for sure.”

Mike nods absently, distracting himself with the strings on Will’s sweatshirt. “So I don’t sound crazy?”

Will laughs. “I dunno. I always counted on us going crazy together. Figured we might have a few extra years, but hey, I’m all in.”

And then Mike is flashed back to a night on his couch just over a year ago. Knees knocking together, shared smiles. A promise.

So much has changed.

He wants to know what Will meant. A future of being in each other’s lives, maybe, getting old and senile and batshit crazy. Always being there.

He never dared to think about it before.

“So what now?”

Will shrugs. He dips his head to meet Mike’s eyes with his own. “What do you want, Mike?”

And finally, he thinks he might know.

Or maybe he’s always known.

He scoots forward, takes Will’s face in his hands, and kisses him. It’s just a quick press of their lips, but in that moment, he knows a few things for sure. His heartbeat is going a mile a minute, and Will must be able to feel it; it’s absolutely exhilarating, surreal, insane that he’s kissing his best friend; and, he is definitely in like, or maybe love, with Will Byers.

He’ll probably love him forever.

When Mike pulls back and his eyes flutter open to see Will, flushed, blinking back at him, slightly dazed, he doesn’t want to pull away at all. He did that. Mike’s hand remains on his jaw, lax, and he runs his thumb along Will’s bottom lip, curious to see his reaction, curious about a lot, now.

Will lets out a breathy chuckle. “Wow,” he mumbles, “that’s new.”

“Yeah.” Mike exhales shakily, takes one of Will’s hands, and says, “Merry Christmas, Will.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas.”

The world doesn’t seem to fall apart like Mike thought it might if he ever got to this point, so, that’s nice.

“So…” Mike begins carefully, “you’re gonna have to be slow with me here. This is sort of a lot for me.”

“Me too,” Will replies simply. He squeezes Mike’s hand. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“Totally.”

Will takes his cheeks in his hands and smiles into a very gentle kiss, his fingers curling into the hair at the nape of Mike’s neck. It’s soft and sweet and lingering - but not for too long, as moments later the door upstairs busts open and shouts of, “BYERS!” from their dear friends sound through the air, and Mike and Will jump apart, equally startled and laughing.

“Down here!” Will calls out. He looks at Mike, smiles, offers, “To be continued?” and as he walks past, he leans in, just to leave a quick peck on Mike’s cheek.

And all Mike can do is laugh and shake his head and run after him to meet their friends; Lucas and Dustin are horribly late to the surprise, but they collide into Will the second they see him, shouting over each other, ‘What’s going on, dude?’ ‘Merry Christmas!’ ‘You’ve missed so much,’ and everyone is grinning and chattering, and it’s awesome.

Max approaches him, watching all of the madness, smacks a hand to his shoulder, and says, “You did good, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, I did.” She punches his arm lightly, laughing, so he adds, “thank you for everything. Seriously.”

“I think we should work together more often.”

Mike scoffs into a laugh, and says, “Yeah, guess so.”

Max rolls her eyes, but at least now they’re actually laughing in each other's company. It’s great progress from just a few weeks ago.

After a minute of watching the boy’s shenanigans, Max smiles. “Well, Merry Christmas, anyway.”

“Merry Christmas,” he responds, and he watches as she jumps up onto a kitchen stool, chatting and giggling with El.

With everyone back together again, finally, Mike feels really alive; so, he jumps in with all the excited shouting and group hugs and bickering, and celebrates the merriest Christmas he can remember in a long time.

[kneehab]

two weeks

Today marks two full weeks since surgery! Time is moving fast in some ways, and so fucking slowly in others.

The cats are loving all the bed and couch time. The cats would support more torn ACLs if it means the humans are home all the time and available for pets!

I have gotten so used to the brace at this point that it feels unnerving to have it off. I think it’s the combination of muscle atrophy and the absence of the brace that makes my left leg feel so light. It feels scary to take it off to shower. It’s going to be so strange and scary when I can finally walk without the brace in a few weeks.

I’m also sleeping totally soundly with the brace on, now that I’ve figured out the optimal setup. I made a ramp with the pillows so that my leg is elevated, but my knee and upper leg are also supported without creating a bend in the knee. That way, I can turn over onto my right side and my leg stays supported. I can start sleeping without the brace in one week, and I’m going to be such a pro by then.

Flexion has continued to improve — I think I must be at about 110 or 115 degrees, which I feel especially good about because once I reliably hit 120, I can start riding a stationary bike. That will do a lot to stop the muscle atrophy in my quads and just generally increase the strength of the whole leg, which will support me once I can walk again.

I’m still wearing the ace bandage all the time because the brace straps rub on the quad incision without the cushion, but I take it off once a day or so to check on the wounds. 

The other day I took off the brace and I noticed a lump on my inner left thigh — you can see the slight protrusion in the skin in the photo below. (Excuse the discrepancy in the level of shaved-ness of my legs.) The lump seemed to follow the contours of the brace straps, and when I let the leg sit out without the brace on for a bit, the lump became softer, so I think it’s just from the straps. There is no lower leg swelling or discoloration or pain, so seems unlikely to be DVT, but it was still a bit of a weird feeling and a little scary to find it.

You can also tell that my whole left leg is just kind of swollen, not just the knee, so I’m just sure it’s just a lump of fluid from all that’s going on in there.

This whole experience has been... dissociative. It is a feeling of not knowing or trusting the state of your body. From the initial nerve block/not being able to move your leg after surgery, to finding fluid lumps, to muscle atrophy, it’s just a process of losing the feeling of safety and home in your body. I am looking forward to rebuilding that trust and familiarity again over time.

I can do more for myself at this point; I can easily get in and out of bed, I can drive, I can make myself coffee and clean the cat box. The only things I need help with are lifting heavy objects, like the icewater system or cat litter or the trash. My balance isn’t good enough, especially when I’m using a crutch.

I still find it hard not to compare my progress with others’ sometimes, and it’s difficult to not feel frustrated by the lack of mobility. I’m tired of watching TV and reading so much.

I just want someone to promise me that I’ll get my muscle back and that I’ll be able to walk, run, and climb like I used to again. I know it’s very likely that I will; everything seems to be going fine so far, but sometimes you just want someone to reassure you that everything is going to be fine.