#He's good with people! Stop calling him stupid!

[kaiserposting]

My Worries Come in Phallic, Freudian Shapes

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Established Relationship, It's basically just Kaiser tweaking for no reason 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ (I find it funny but interpretations may vary) WARNING(S): Kaiser's overactive imagination?

Kaiser would like to say he’s quite numb to being separated from you. Sometimes you come along with him at away games, if possible, but in other instances you have to be apart sometimes even for months, and Kaiser likes to think he manages it well.

You’re not on his mind much when he’s training or during a game. Mostly his times of weakness happen outside of that, though Kaiser doesn’t let it get to him. For example, he does this fun exercise where if his mind strays towards you too often or when he can sense the void in his chest is beginning to take on a suspicious shape, he holds out on texting or calling you for as long as possible. To test his will — which is something normal people do like all the time, of course — and because wanting to distract himself gives him extra neurotic energy to burn when he’s doing his exercises.

Not that Kaiser becomes neurotic over you or anything. It’s not even a big deal to him.

He’s sure you miss him more than he misses you. He’s confident you do. After all, to him, it’s no big deal, as previously stated. It’s true.

He doesn’t worry about small and nonsensical things like how you’d probably prefer a more present and available boyfriend, and how you’re free to do whatever you want with remarkable ease when you’re seas and oceans away from him.

Kaiser’s eye twitches while he continues shoving the last of his belongings back into his luggage, since he needs to pack for his flight back home. This train of thought isn’t going anywhere good — he needs to abandon it. Besides, a second with Michael Kaiser is worth way more than a month with some stupid, worthless commoner. Your shitty replacement for him will never rival the real deal.

No, this is stupid. You love him, you don’t have a replacement for him. Right? You wouldn’t betray him while he’s away. You’re his first and only love, you can’t do that to him, can you? You know he’d kill you if you did it and he found out, don’t you?

This is stupid. He wouldn’t kill you! Kaiser doesn’t want to kill you. He should stop thinking about this… You wouldn’t do it to him either anyway, you love him back. Kaiser knows you do, so why does it not feel real most of the time?

What if you’ve fallen out of love with him, though? Maybe you look forward to when he has to go away for long. Forget all about him the moment he’s out of your sight, don’t spare him a single thought, have fun with your little friends while he’s gone, all that.

You probably get together and you start shit-talking him with them the way people do about their good for nothing boyfriends sometimes. They call his haircut stupid and you cackle along with them, then you tell them how insecure and unlovable he really is, and actually his dad beat him as a child so now he’s barely human, how it makes him an arrogant and pretentious piece of trash pretender, and then you’re like ‘I wish I had a normal boyfriend instead of Michael’, and they’re all like ‘you deserve a normal boyfriend, this is fucked up’, and you’re empowered to free yourself of your burden. So he comes back home and you pick him up from the flight and you break the news to him that you’re leaving him and he has to move his belongings back to his place.

Maybe you have a new fling already, but it’s nothing serious because you still need to dump Kaiser and all. And he’s like in finances or something, an accountant maybe, who works normal hours (not the overachieving workaholic type who stays behind to do extra), and he probably doesn’t have footage of him having meltdowns on live TV for everyone to see. There are no interviews where he’s acting bitchy, no compilations of him acting cruel or ‘crashing out’ or whatever else. And he probably grew up in an average household — they weren’t rich or anything, but his parents made time for him. They were loving and nurtured him to be a rightful member of society, raising him to be someone worth your affection…

Holy shit does Kaiser feel unhinged. Literally why is he making up this entire story in his head? It never happened.

It didn’t, right? You wouldn’t do it to him, would you? You love him. You really, really, really love him, like from the bottom of your heart, somehow you love him and you don’t want to hurt him, even if you’re probably sick of him being away and of his problems and his attitude and his everything. If you had a magic wand, he wagers you’d wave it and change him on a neurochemical level, keep his looks and his successes, but get rid of the unnecessary baggage.

Or would you keep him as he is and love that ugly thing? Can you? Do you have it in you? Are you just tolerating him for some monetary benefits or out of pity with your knowledge of his past? Do you still love him? Will you love him a few hours from now or are you going to get bored? Are you bored and antsy waiting for him and is it affecting your feelings, suffocating your love to zero each moment he’s not by your side, each reunion only serving to put off the inevitable? Is the novelty wearing off? Do you need novelty?

Kaiser fights off the impulse to write you a text message threatening suicide and then turning off his phone until the end of the flight to keep you on your toes. A flashy move in attention seeking for sure, but for one you don’t even know he’s in a mind war with you, so you’re more likely to be confused than begging for him not to do it and for his forgiveness, though maybe it could earn him a reassurance of love and care. Regardless, Kaiser is not taking the chance because if you ignore him or don’t see the message it’ll just devastate him.

And also he kind of doesn’t want to act like that. Well, he does, but the rational part of him is also still awake and holding him back. You won’t appreciate that. Right now the strife he’s going through is completely imaginary, but if he goes and acts crazy outside the confines of his mind, he really might fuck everything up.

If he makes too many mistakes, you might fall out of love with him, and if you fall out of love with him, you’ll leave him. Kaiser thinks about what he’d do in that case. Without you he is nothing besides an unwanted waste of breath — you’re the sole person who got close enough to see beneath his nonsense and decide to tolerate it, attracted beyond frivolity for an enigmatic reason.

Maybe the perpetrator behind this strange limbo of weird hysteria is Kaiser’s low self-esteem. It always circles back to that and he is sick of it. He doesn’t understand why you subject yourself to him and here, a whole ordeal.

Whatever anymore. Kaiser doesn’t even care. It’s a pointless matter to lose his mind over. He knows you cherish him, and even if you didn’t, he’d get over it. Life moves on. There are other fish in the sea…

Actually, if you tried to leave him, Kaiser has so many things he would do, they’d earn him a restraining order. First he’d resort to begging and ugly crying, but he doubts it’d sway you. He’d need to be more extreme.

No, that’s silly. If you separated, he’d react to it like a normal person, right? He wouldn’t do a thing. He’d let you leave without any theatrics and move on. Right? It’s what he would do, Kaiser decides.

Or maybe he can get a leg up on you and catch you out when you begin losing interest in him and he can work to win you back over. You won’t even know what hit you. Yea, Kaiser will scheme to sweep you off your feet.

Not that he cares that much to put so much effort in… It’s just his strength and natural calling as an unbothered male manipulator.

___

After the packing and the waiting at the airport and all that, Kaiser survives a restless flight. He tried to read a book during it, but he turned out not to enjoy it whatsoever (catastrophe). Then he turned to Gesner, who was sitting next to him and seemed like he wanted to kill himself, and told him in detail about all the plot problems and why this was what made nonfiction superior.

To Gesner’s relief Kaiser also spent a good chunk of it trying to sleep, though the endeavor was useless. He closed his eyes and his pattern of anxious cyclical thinking continued and he failed to doze off. What do you think about accountants? Maybe your side piece wouldn’t have any tattoos because you secretly find his corny and you’ve sworn off tattooed men. ‘I mean, seriously, just put the eyeliner on like a real man.’ Kaiser would bet this is what you’re saying to your friends.

Anyway, again, his flight was spent stirring in ridiculous thoughts in that vein. If nothing else, actually, if you knew what was running through his head, that would be what would put you off of him. But you don’t. He needs to just… keep it to himself and it’ll be fine.

So you find each other after some stumbling and chaos and some vague text exchanges like ‘where are you?’, ‘At the airport obviously’, ‘you think you’re so funny’, and so on, and when you spot each other, you grin upon the sight of him (hard to fake such immediate happiness, Kaiser concludes) and spread your arms out for a hug.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. You’re so cute, he wants to squeeze you to death, but regardless he puts on a big show of what an inconvenience this is and gives you a stiff, nonchalant embrace. The way you hold him is a small reassurance. You’re still in public though, so he needs to play it cool for a bit longer, and he reluctantly peels himself away from you.

You interrogate him about his time away while he’s your passenger princess on the way home. Kaiser takes it as a good sign you’re still interested in his life at least enough to ask, as if there was a possibility he was going to come back and you just… wouldn’t give a fuck about him or what he’s been up to. He keeps his answers vague, trying not to let on the almost daily mental torment he’s been subjecting himself to just because his brain can’t stop making up stupid narratives.

Once you two arrive, and only when you’re inside, does Kaiser give into his desire for your affection. He wraps you up in a way tighter embrace without intention of letting go and peppers your face in kisses.

The first time he acted like that with you upon coming back, you were rightfully weirded out, but now you’re used to this whole routine and let him have his moment of rare forwardness.

“You know,” he says, “I missed you like, a little bit.”

“It’s hard to tell,” you say, sarcastic.

Kaiser ignores it. He bites your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt at all, but it’s a strange sensation.

“So gross.”

“I hope you weren’t doing anything stupid without me. I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you think about accountants?”

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, but humor him anyway. “Can’t say I think anything in particular about them.”

“Is that so…”

For some reason, you find his tone to sound suspicious? There is a harder bite — your skin might be a bit irritated around there for a few minutes. You wonder if Kaiser was arguing with management or something somewhere abroad.

___

I just wrote this because I thought Kaiser having emotional impermanence (which is likely) would be hilarious I promise I'll write a more plot-oriented one shot soon again

[suzukiblu]

Day seven and the final day of February’s first weekly WIP behind the cut; “the puzzle trap sex-room”. content warnings: past grooming, past sexual abuse, past statutory rape, past dubious consent, CURRENT unhealthy coping mechanisms, immediate fallout of sex pollen/death trap-induced sexual coercion, and a POV character who does not understand what the problem with any of that is, he’s FINE, Jesus, lay off already and let him live his life. and like, definitely internalized victim-blaming that said POV character is not actually recognizing as that. So uh, you know, just Kon’s … entire pre-YJ dating history, pretty much? Pretty much that, yeah. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Superboy just feels so gross right now. He feels so gross and so stupid and it tasted gross and Robin wouldn't stop yanking his fucking hair no matter how fucking hard he tried to do a good job for him and then Robin called him a fucking whore while he was trying to save his fucking life and didn’t even say he did a good job and–and–

And Robin���s not some random-ass civilian or asshole supervillain, Robin’s–they've met before. They’ve worked together before, at least a couple times. They’d both literally saved each other’s stupid lives before tonight, even. Like, more than once, even! Superboy didn’t decide to get his stupid little hopeless-ass crush on him out of, like, all the fucking nonexistent publicity photos and paparazzi shots of the guy, for fuck’s sake; they actually know each other. Like–at least enough to have saved each other’s lives and like, significant chunks of both Gotham and Hawaii. 

And even after all that–even after all that, Robin still thinks he's not worth being nice to even when he actually wants to fuck him. Not worth using a condom for or listening to when he asks him not to do stuff or when he asks if they can do something different or–or–wouldn't settle for the fucking handjob, wouldn't tell him he had fucking condoms, wouldn't stop yanking his fucking hair–Robin thinks he's a mouthy bitch and a whore, but he wouldn't even let him have a stupid condom. The condoms he specifically carries to give to people, even–he'll give them to stupid drunk people and prostitutes who should've packed their fucking own, yeah, to any other kind of whore, but not to him. Robin doesn't care if he gets sick or if he just doesn't wanna get fucking come in his mouth or on his face or–or–Robin carries those for people, not–not–

Robin didn’t even kiss him first. 

But Tana’s nice to him, even though he’s so stupid that he can’t even figure out why everybody else is always so fucking mean.

Tana’d care if he got sick or felt gross or–or any of that shit. Any time he feels bad, she always makes him feel better, even when it’s over really stupid shit; even when it’s over nothing at all and she has to explain to him why he shouldn’t even be upset or–or whatever. Even when he’s made her really mad again and disappointed her again and–and–

Tana cares if he gets better or not, and nobody else even thinks he can.

And she doesn’t treat him like a fucking kid, either. Everyone else treats him like a kid, but only when they want to shut him up or ignore his opinion or what the fuck ever. Never–never for any other reason. Never for anything–else. 

At least if people wanted to treat him like a kid, they could be fuckin’ consistent about it. They could be, like–literally anything except whatever was most convenient for them at the time, whether he had any opinions about it or not. He wouldn’t even–he wouldn’t even really care about somebody doing that, he’s pretty sure, if they were just fuckin’ consistent about it. 

He doesn’t know why–like, that’s not a–he doesn’t–just, if they were consistent, then–if people treated him like a kid and were just–just–

But they don’t. Nobody does. 

So nobody fucking gets to. 

���Just–take a breath, Kid,” Superman says, because he apparently thinks he fucking gets to, the asshole. 

He doesn’t get to, though, so Superboy just grabs every light fixture he can feel in the whole stupid cave and disassembles them all. And it doesn’t even matter, obviously, because fucking Superman has fucking infrared vision anyway, but that’s not the fucking point. 

He just doesn’t want any of these assholes looking at him like that anymore.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Discrediting the canon because the author's a bigot is, frankly, rather stupid. You're not making it any less "problematic" by completely changing the characters' personalities, especially if you're still using the characters' names, and making them "queer". And I'd argue it's a very poor, uninteresting version of queerness, especially when you take the canon into account and how much more potential there is to explore those characters as queer.

Sirius Black, hyper-masculine to a serious fault. Aggressive, abusive, everything about his family that he hates but that he's not taken time to unlearn. Why not explore him, in his mid thirties, watching as everyone looks at him with something akin to pity, because poor Sirius, acting like this in such a grown age, poor man is rather pathetic, isn't he, and starting to question why. Why does everyone see him like that, and not how he wants them to see him? And he ends up slowly unlearning his toxic behaviour that way.

Or Sirius, being a trans man. The start of his battle with his mother over his very identity as a boy, not the perfect daughter she wanted. And it's established in his mind very early: womanhood, feminity itself, is bad. And he doesn't unlearn that in Hogwarts. He bullies Snape, who's clearly feminine in his very nature, unable to fathom why someone born a man would ever behave in that way, unable to understand his viewpoints are wrong, skewed by his childhood resentment and trauma.

Remus, he could so easily be queer, and had to hide it to fit in with his friends. Joining in with bullying Snape, as a way to make up for his "wrongness". Heck, even Peter could be queer and still in line with his canon personality.

Severus Snape? He's written like a female character. He is easily the queerest one. Heck, the bullying he faced even lines up with it.

Take those characters with their true flaws and faults, make them queer, and you've got a far more complicated story than the fanon version. Then again, perhaps they're too "flawed" for you. Perhaps they're too real, too human in those flaws.

This fandom is a fun place to do what we want, yes. But if you have to completely remove the characters' personalities, bring people in via the medium of ooc fanfiction, and even hound on people who actually point out the canon personalities of the characters and who want to see said canon, then you're in the wrong fandom. Full stop. And for all JKR's bigoted attitudes, she still wrote the story. You can't take that away just because she's a bad person. That's not how people work. Horrible people can create brilliant things. Bad people can create good stories, good characters. It's childish to immediately view something made by a bad person and ignore everything they made while still using it. You're not "reclaiming" it, or flipping the bird at JKR for creating this ooc fandom in any way.

You can like the series despite the author who wrote it. And if you can't, if you have to change everything to like it, then you don't like the series, and you need let go of the names taken from it. Call it an AU, even.

But don't go acting like there's no canon, and that people are wrong for wanting canonically accurate interpretations, because they fell in love with those characters, despite the author who wrote them

ppl be posting shit like "I miss canon Marauders"

Babes, there is no "canon" Marauders. Most of the shit ya'll think is canon, are just old headcanons that used to be widespread before other (usually queerer) headcanons gained popularity.

There is so little information about the "canon" Marauders - and even the info we have cannot be trusted because it's usually memories, influenced by a character's bias - that trying to make a somewhat comprehensive character out of the given material is impossible, let alone 4 characters.

Everything is fanon. Everything is headcanon. And that's the beauty of this fandom.

(Ofc my favourite part is when something actually is canon via the books or movies, and people reject it as fanon.)

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴍʏ ᴇᴀʀ

…𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭

angst, smut (mostly descriptive), friends to lovers, unresolved, no happy ending, suggestive, making out, heartbreak, emotional manipulation, self-destructive behavior, toxic dynamics, fluff if u squint, romance, intimacy, friends with benefits, betrayal, unrequited love?, slow burn, self-sabotage

listen to the song that inspired this fic while reading!

word count - 3k

Matt has a scar on his temple. She’s always liked to run her hand over it. The first time she tried, he flinched, batted her hand away, mumbled something about personal space.

She stopped after that. Until one day, he caught her staring.

"You wanna hear a story?" he asked, grinning like he had a secret. "Got mauled by a bear once. Barely made it out."

She almost called his bluff. Almost.

Instead, she smiled, seeing it for what it was... permission. To touch him. To know him in ways he wouldn’t always say.

Maybe she loves that he never tells the truth straight. Maybe she loves that she doesn't really understand him.

Maybe she just loves him.

It was not always a thing. Her… curiousity. Affection. Desire.

When they were very little, she used to follow him and his brothers around. It was easy to. Not to mention that people liked them, because they were charming, and funny, and genuine. She stuck by Matt's side through school, feeling safe and protected under his wing like a small bird. He teased her, sure, even back then. Always sitting beside him, walking directly behind him, looking out for his reaction when she told a joke or shared a story.

Eventually, they reached that age where it was only natural for her to distance herself slightly. Things became less ritual, less assumed, and she found herself asking for permission, looking for his affirmation, seeking out his validation.

Sometime after 10th grade, she started spending the night again. Mostly in Matt’s room. He let her in. And she took what she could get. They didn’t ever cuddle or anything. Mostly Matt would talk, and she would listen. She absorbed everything, every word, every silence. The care she had for him ran so deep she felt it inside sometimes, to the rhythm of her heartbeat, spreading through her like oxygen. He asks her questions sometimes, questions that a part of her finds silly and stupid, his boyish brain not quite at her contemplative level. She forced herself not to mind. To appreciate it.

When she does talk, in those late hours, staring up at the ceiling, she can tell he’s not really listening. He’s too… wrapped up in himself. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He’s probably just stressed. 

She hopes Matt cares. Maybe he does, just not as much as her. He likes the safety of the distance between them. But just enough, sure, maybe he cares.

That night, they end up in his room. He always lets her stay when the world gets too loud. Everything feels too quiet, too intimate here. It’s a comfortable space, familiar in a way that makes her want to curl up and stay forever. She rests her head against his pillow, the soft fabric of his sleeve brushing against her forehead as she stares at the ceiling.

When she wakes, they’re the closest they’ve ever been. The sunlight manages to shine directly into the corner of her eye, so she squints. And then she sees him. Feels him. He’s holding her, his arm draped over her waist, hand grazing her stomach as her back leans against him. She sees him so clearly. Pulling her toward him in the most innocent of ways.

She feels the goodness radiating off her bones and she becomes fearful. That he’s probably known all along, even when she hasn’t. That she likes him. Really, really likes him. 

The heat doesn’t overcome the fear then, it doesn’t pool in her stomach until much, much later. It’s not till they’re eating cereal, all of them together, and someone is telling a story, and all she can do is watch as Matt suppresses his laughter. She can’t help but see the little boy in him, always. Nothing about him is malevolent to her. Even when he smirks, teasing or mocking her, she feels nothing but warmth.

She goes to parties, tries to find another guy, another boy to kiss to avoid even thinking of Matt like that. It doesn’t work of course.

She gives away her virginity to the boy in her math class. The one who didn’t mean any harm and therefore, doesn’t cause her any. He doesn’t make her feel good, but she holds him close to hide his face so that she can tug on the brown hair and pretend all is well.

And then one night, when she finally admits to herself that none of it is working, she allows her mind to wander. To truly contemplate, what it might be like. To be loved like that. By him. 

She doesn’t drift for more than mere seconds before she finally feels the warmth return. In her mind, her thoughts recall how Matt's lips hover above her ear at parties just before he leaves her alone in the corner. She could come already, it’s pathetic.

The fantasy is shattered when she remembers him kissing another girl right after.

She’s not jealous. She doesn’t need to, doesn’t want to feel special. He lets her in and that’s enough.

She touches herself to kill the emotion, replaying the scene from an outsider’s perspective. His lips on her ear. His lips on her ear. His lips on her ear. It rewinds and distorts but it’s no matter. She’s already sticky and shameful, childlike. 

She doesn’t dare to do it again, she already regrets it and can’t look him in the eye anymore. It’s almost like he knows about the sick fantasy, and he's constantly trying to catch her with his eyes like a hunter. 

It’s only because of this that she pictures him beneath her. His eyes so wide and disconcerted, like a deer in headlights. Just like a baby animal, and her fear dissipates to the rhythm of her touch, pretending, praying that the emotion will die once more if she gives the fantasy just enough room to breathe.

And then one night they’re talking about love, true love. Their beliefs, hopes and truths, and she lies, she lies like she loves him and wants to protect him. Treats herself like the one in the wrong. She knows that this conversation is only happening because nothing will ever happen between them. She hopes that that's true because she can’t handle the end of her love, not in the way he can.

Sometime between their complete and utter closeness, they both find comfort in others. She still searches for Matt though, always, always, always.

Sometime between the external comfort, they find their way back to his room, his bed. And he holds her again, more and more these days and she wonders why.

And it’s sick and twisted because it happens. In his bed. His lips hovering on her ear, expressing his shallow gratitude. She can’t help it, she gasps lightly. It’s the best she can manage without taking advantage of his closeness.

Unfortunately, Matt notices it, and he whispers again. 

“Do you like it baby?”, she feels his warmth breath coat her like the sun, “My mouth on your ear?”

Something shrivels up and dies inside her then, the reluctance, the pre-emptive disappointment, and she nods, squirming in his grip. “Mhm,” she whines. They fall asleep like that, cuddling like lovers as Matt whispers in her ear, sending her into a beautiful trance.

In the morning, they don’t speak of it. He’s there, a vessel of her comfort as always. Days pass, and she touches herself again, thoughts of Matt creeping in as always. 

They remain who they’ve always been to the outside world. Friends. Good friends. But back in his room, as she leans against the wall his bed touches, she doesn’t feel anything like that. 

He’s sitting at his desk, back to her.

“Matt,” she says, her voice quiet, but he turns around as the silence hangs in the air between them, sharp and fragile. “Do you ever think about... us?”

He looks at her, his brow furrowing slightly, and for the first time, she sees something flicker in his eyes. Uncertainty. He chuckles, but it’s not his usual carefree laugh. It’s tight, almost defensive.

“What do you mean, ‘us’?” he asks, trying to mask the tension in his voice with the ease he’s perfected over the years.

She takes a breath, the weight of her own words heavier than she expected. She knows this is risky, but it’s impossible to hold it in any longer. “I mean… us, as more than just…” She gestures between them, frustrated, unsure how to finish the sentence without sounding foolish. “More than just… how we are. What we are.”

He shifts, his posture stiffening. His hand tightens against the armrest, his jaw set. “We’ve always been like this,” he says, and there’s that familiar nonchalance, the wall he’s always built between them. “Don’t need anything else. It’s enough.”

Her chest tightens, the words falling flat even as she tries to smile. “Maybe,” she whispers, but her voice shakes. “But what about me?”

There’s a pause, a heartbeat that lingers too long in the air between them. And for the briefest moment, she swears she sees something flicker in his eyes. Something softer, something afraid.

But then it’s gone, hidden behind that same smile that’s never quite reached his eyes.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” he says, more to himself than to her, his voice a little too calm. “You know that.”

She nods, the weight of his words sinking in. She’s heard this before… just never to her. She should know better, shouldn’t she? But it feels different this time. It feels like a denial, not just of her feelings, but of something they could have shared. Maybe she’s been fooling herself all along.

“I know,” she says, her voice small, barely audible over the noise. “I know.”

It's still not over after that conversation. She’s still completely at his mercy and she can’t bring herself to walk away, to shatter. It’s like she wants him to hurt her. For it to be his fault, and not hers. She tells herself she can move on, that she can bury the feelings that have only been growing with each passing moment. She’s had enough of the games. Enough of the waiting. Even edging herself and relieving herself does little good.

It’s just not that simple.

The next few days pass in a blur. She tries to keep her distance, but something keeps drawing her back to him…like a magnetic pull she can’t escape, the years, the way he’s always been there. And then there’s a moment, late one night, when everything just cracks. They’re in his room again, the same room that’s always felt like home and a cage at the same time. She’s sitting on the edge of his bed, talking about nothing and everything, and then he’s there, too close again.

And before she even knows what’s happening, his lips are on hers.

It’s not like the kisses she’s had before, quick and careless, stolen moments that never meant anything. This one is different. This one makes her feel like she’s floating, like she’s finally found a place she’s meant to be. She’s shocked, clawing at the air for a second. Then his hand cups the side of her face, and she presses closer, her fingers gripping the back of his shirt, pulling him in.

It’s a moment that feels like everything. Like it’s all been leading to this. And for a little while, she forgets about the rules he’s laid down. She forgets about the distance he’s kept between them. She just lets herself feel it, the heat, the intensity, the way his lips move against hers like they’ve done this a thousand times before.

He groans into her mouth, and pulls away abruptly. But she’s desperate, kissing him again as they fall down onto the bed, their chests pressed against each other. 

Somehow the moment is passionate, the way he undresses her, caresses her, tells her she’s beautiful. He whispers in her ear as he moves within her and she whimpers, closer and closer to the high she’s been yearning for. 

His mouth trails over her chest as she arches her back away from him. He cups her breast with his warm hand, kneading it and massaging it. “I love how you respond to me, to my touch.”

He enters her slower, deeper, “I want you to feel it baby. I want you to feel good. Feel loved.” She moans at his words and looks back staring into his eyes, the innocent gaze of a friend she’s known for as long as she’s known her own name. They both come with a final rough movment from him and collapse onto each other.

It feels loving, like devotion, and when he eventually pulls out, she feels full of bliss. 

He gets on his knees pulling on his shirt before glancing back at her. She pours all of her love into her post-orgasm stare. He smiles, shy, before looking back down and kneeling down to kiss her core. Slowly but surely, he overstimulates her, making out with the most private part of her, cleaning her, loving her.

She smiles, content. Empty, but newly joined. Hopeful. 

But the next morning, everything is different.

He’s distant again, almost like nothing happened. His eyes avoid hers, and the silence stretches between them like an ocean, too wide to cross. He doesn’t mention the kiss. Doesn’t acknowledge what happened after.

This time, it’s different though. She knows it, and he knows it. The unspoken tension hangs in the air between them, undeniable. They don’t say the words, but there’s a shift. A silent agreement in the way he watches her when he thinks she's not looking, the way she can’t stop looking at him, even as she tries to pretend like it doesn’t matter.

Eventually, after days of this unspoken tension, Matt says something. Casual, almost teasing, like they’re joking, like nothing matters.

“You think we could do this... and whatever? A compromise?” he says, voice low but eyes still holding hers.

She knows what he means. And she knows that this isn’t the kind of thing that can be taken back. It’s an offer, a dangerous one, and she’s so close to refusing, but instead, she finds herself nodding. She’s done pretending. She’s done with the half-truths.

“I’m fine with it,” she murmurs. “Don’t need much more.”

Matt looks at her, eyes sharp. “We can make this work,” he promises, but the words are hollow. She knows that. The question hangs there between them, a fragile thread strung across a chasm of things unsaid. He knows it too. But he won't say it.

They’re tangled together in the silence that follows, a pact neither of them can take back. It’s something they’ve both tried to avoid for so long. But now, in the wake of everything they’ve built up and torn down, it feels like the only thing left to do.

The bed feels too small for both of them, a tight coil that she can't escape. She lies back, her head sinking into the pillow, the weight of the room pressing down on her. Matt’s silhouette stands over her, a shadow she can’t shake off. The space between them is thick, suffocating. She breathes in, and the air feels heavier, as though every inch she takes toward him is another step toward the inevitable.

She tells herself it’s fine, that it’s just for now, just something to fill the space between them, to fill the gaps in the way they’ve always existed. No expectations. No pressure.

But as they fall into each other again, the boundaries blur, and everything shifts. The kisses feel deeper, the touches linger longer. He holds her. He holds her. His mouth over her ear.

She’s still scared, still bracing herself for the inevitable crash, the heartbreak she knows will come when it’s over. But right now, she can’t bring herself to care.

She should feel anger, or sadness… maybe both. But instead, she feels something worse: a sick, hollow longing. It's the kind of want that gnaws at her, the kind of want that tells her that even knowing this will hurt her, she would still do it. She would still step forward. Because for the first time in too long, something feels real, even if it’s doomed..

She’s already made her bed. She might as well lie down with him.

She’s always known this would happen. She’s always known Matt would leave her wanting, never giving enough to truly stay, yet always giving just enough to keep her hooked. But now, with the decisive touches, the silence, the empty space between them, it’s different. The fear she used to feel…fear that he might hurt her, might break her heart, is gone. There’s no surprise in it anymore. There’s only a cold certainty, a sharp knowledge of how deep the hurt will run.

And somehow, she feels it before it even happens… the ache of knowing this will end badly. But there's a strange warmth in the hurt. The promise of it. A twisted comfort, like preparing for a storm you can't stop, but somehow want. The thought of it burns, and she lets it. 

She knows how it will feel when it all unravels, but she can’t help the thrill that shivers up her spine. She can’t help the way her chest tightens with anticipation, knowing just how bad it will get.

She’s looking forward to the kill.

She’ll lie in this bed she made, her heart tangled in him, and she’ll let it consume her, because it’s the only thing that’s ever felt true.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers!!!

+ thank u @cowboylikenat for ur feedback <3

a/n: i swore i'd never write smut yet here we are.

taglist: @blushsturns @sturnslutz @snoopychris @sturnshood @sturns-mermaid @chrissweetheart comment to be added to my main (non-au) taglist!!

till next time!!!!

[wisteriasymphony]

Chloe had knocked over Marinette's tray at lunch earlier that day. It wasn't anything new, just like the way Chloe had started making oinking noises to Sabrina when Marinette had bent down to clean it up. Or like the way Chloe had said that Marinette didn't really need the extra calories, so she was actually helping her after all.

Lucky Lucky Ladybug kept replaying the scene in her mind, over and over, thinking about just how stupid Chloe would've felt if Tikki had let Marinette transform and give Chloe a talking-to as Ladybug. She had woven the string of her yo-yo between her fingers into a cat's cradle, and every time her hands would stretch apart, the yo-yo would spin on its track. Then she'd bring her hands back together to catch the yo-yo mid spin, the metal body clacking against the bones in her hands. Spin, then clack. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Chat Noir had been talking for the past few minutes, but Ladybug never bothered to listen to him anymore. He had probably just made one of his awful puns again, based on the way he started stammering.

"Oh, uh, s-so the joke is that it's a play on the word—" "Have you ever thought that maybe, if you have to explain all of your jokes, you're not funny?" Chat Noir got quiet, his shoulders falling. Ladybug kept her eyes on her yo-yo. "I'm sorry, milady," Chat Noir apologized. "I just assumed you didn't understand the punchline." "Maybe you should come up with jokes other people understand then. That way people might actually laugh at them." Spin, clack. Spin, clack. Ladybug kept imagining Chloe's face, with her pale blue eyeshadow and her cakey makeup.

Chat Noir started to twist his fingers together, the claws on his thumbs digging into his gloved hands. It wasn't anything new—people having little patience with him, that is. His father had gotten him used to it by now. Chat Noir knew that the right thing to do in such situations was just to acquiesce, and that when you acquiesced people liked you more for it. "I noticed you and Rena were on television the other day. How did that go?" Ladybug hunched over herself, scoffing as she wound the string of her yo-yo tighter around her fingers. She had started bring Renared to press conferences and fan meetups because she could trust that Alya wouldn't act like an idiot or say stupid things. Alya was a good friend like that, willing to pick up Chat Noir's slack. Plus, doing things with Rena instead meant that Marinette and Alya could hang out for the rest of the day, and Marinette would actually enjoy herself. Doing anything of that with Chat Noir... would mean she'd be hanging out with Chat Noir. Bad pickup lines and worse jokes included.

"It was fine," Ladybug huffed, rolling her eyes. "Why do you even care?" "Oh- well, uhm. You just used to take me, and I was wondering if you had a reason that you... well... stopped."

One time during an interview, Chat Noir had derailed the entire conversation talking about the intricacies of whether or not their group of holders counted more as a religious or a political organization, entirely unaware that nobody could even begin to care about such a thing. Spin, clack. Spin, clack.

Ladybug thought about the way Chloe's face had scrunched up when she oinked at Marinette. Ladybug thought of Chat Noir's stupid awkward stammer. Ladybug thought about having to admit to her mother that her grades were getting worse.

Ladybug trapped the yo-yo in her hands for the last time, almost trying to crush it.

"It's because she's better at it than you, and I like you better when I don't have to hear you talk. Does that make you happy?!"

Chat Noir almost answered—No, actually, knowing that people didn't like hearing him talk didn't make him happy at all. But he'd learned by now that when Ladybug asked him questions like that, she wasn't actually asking and a response would only make her angrier.

"I'm sorry. I'll talk less, milady."

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"...I'm sorry."

Maybe Chloe could pick on Chat Noir for a change. He deserved it more than she did.

[railingsofsorrow]

I was thinking about jj being at home while reader is out partying. and then she calls him, really really drunk so he's concerned and goes pick her up.

love your writing! ❤️

midnight swim

[jj maybank x reader]

summary: the one where you drink too much and decide to have a midnight swim but your boyfriend stops you.

pairing: jj maybank x reader

w.c: 1.1K

warnings/content: alcohol consumption; language; stupid drunk decisions; argument with parents (mentioned); suggestive content (you blink you miss it).

[requested]

A/N: HELLOO this was fun to write hope you like it :)

navi

masterpost

outer banks masterlist

request me something

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Wanna go home.” You mumbled into the phone, walking outside of the loud house to have a moment of peace. Maybe your social battery is over. You didn't know what exactly cut your mood off from the party but you wanted to put on your pajamas and lay in your boyfriends' chest for the whole (rest) of the night.

“Mhm.”

“Dude, did you just kill me?!”

Pope's laughs echoed through the line, followed by JJ's trying to stifle a chuckle but he was very unsuccessful, earning a punch on his arm provided by his best friend.

“Baby? Sorry. The guys were being loud and— You still there?”

You hummed, eyes slightly unfocused staring at the enormous pool of whoever Kook's house you were. You were barely remembering your own name to be honest. You don't like drinking without your friends but you made the terrible choice to drown in booze to forget about the fight with your parents and here you are. Wallowing in self pity. And alcohol. A lot of it, it seemed.

“Baby?”

Rubbing your eyes with a sigh, you replied with a soft hi and there's some shuffling in the background.

“How's the party? Eat any fancy finger food yet? Or is it just champagne?”

“Fuck off.” You couldn't help your chuckle. Your feet somehow carry you out of the porch and into the pool area. Everything felt hot.

You can hear your boyfriends' deep chuckle before he teased you some more, attempting to rile you up. JJ was aware that when you called him at a party was either because you wanted to leave or you just got tired of being socially active and the excuse of being on the phone was good to keep people away temporarily. He wanted to know which was the option now.

“So?”

“'s boring. I wanna— Ouch.” Your laugh was loud but you didn't had a filter with the alcohol in your system so you didn't think much of it or that it wasn't so funny to stumble and fall flat on your ass.

“What?” JJ seemed to notice your lack of sobriety through your continuous giggles. “Where are you right now?” He prompted, eyeing the van's keys on the bowl beside him but not moving to grasp it quite yet. You were a big girl, you could handle yourself; you told him that once when you called him drunk and he showed up to take you home because he was worried. You were pissed. He'd never do it again unless he felt the need to. He didn't want to be possessive in any way.

“Wish I was with you.” He couldn't see your pout but he knew it was there. “Listen... We should go for a midnight swim—is it midnight yet?” You laughed, crawling towards the edge of the pool. The water looked so clean and it was so hot, you just wanted a quick swim.

“It's 1am, baby.”

“Perfect.”

The blond's lips quirked up slightly. “You sure you good? Not doing anything stupid, right?”

“You said it yourself stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” You retorted, taking off your sandals. “Ah, shit. I didn't brought a bikini.”

“Why would you need a bikini?” JJ yawned, resting back comfortably against John B's beaten-up couch. “Was it a pool party? I can't remember you telling me—”

“Not a pool party but they have a pool.” You clarify, blinking down at your outfit. “Baby, I gotta get off my dress, I don't wanna make it wet.”

The way he sat up so quickly that Pope, who was thrown on the loveseat gave him a look of confusion.

“Why do you wanna— Where are you?”

You sighed impatiently. “Told you we should have a midnight swim! I'm by the pool—”

“Okay, yeah, no.” JJ grabbed the car keys and practically sprint out the door. So much for not doing anything stupid. “Baby, can you do me a favour?”

Your face scrunched up and you shook your head. “No. 'm gonna wait for you in the pool—”

“No, you're not. You're gonna get your pretty little feet away from whatever pool you're nearby and you're gonna wait for me, got it?”

“But the midnight swim...” you slurred out, throwing your head back with a groan. “C'mon, stars ar' out and—”

“We'll have a swim when I get there but only if you wait for me, 'kay?” JJ tried a different tactic, a bit desperate for you to get the hell away from the pool while being drunk. “Where are you at again?” He knew some of your friends but he didn't know exactly whose house you were at.

“Stacy's.” You replied, dumping your feet in the pool and dangling them from one side to the other. You were sitting at the edge, the party inside echoing all of the excitement from strangers and the few (three?) people you barely knew.

The Twinkie was on before JJ even shut the door.

“Baby?”

He said carefully, praying you hadn't jumped in the pool in the meanwhile. You let out a low hum in response.

“Your dress' still on, right, princess.”

“Why? You wanna take it off?” She chuckled, leaning back to rest against her elbows. “Still on. 'm waiting f'you like you asked.”

“Good girl.” He turned on the street and now it was only ten minutes away by car. He'd make it in five. “Hey. Are you dizzy or feeling lightheaded? Are you sitting down?”

“Okay, doctor Maybank. You're doing a full checkup or something—Hey!” You exclaimed in indignation when a splash went off and you got soaked. Someone had jumped on the pool. A group of girls that were shrieking like little kids. You stumbled away from the pool, your eyes a little more focused now as you walked towards the backdoor, pushing between people to reach the exit and leave that fucking party. God why did you even came?

“Babe, you good? I'm here.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, watching the beat up van park in front of Stacy's house. “I see you.”

JJ stepped out of the vehicle to greet you. You met him halfway, a pout on yours lips when he asked why on earth were you wet. “Did you get into the pool—”

“No! Some stupid girls jumped in it and I was sitting close!” You whined and JJ's concern turned into amusement really quickly. “Stupid, fucking—”

“Alright, alright.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to bring you closer, running a hand across your back and pressing his lips against your forehead. Your sigh was muffled when you buried your face in his shirt. “Let's get you in some nice comfy and dry clothes, yeah? You good with that?”

“You promised a swim.”

He kissed your pout away until it became a smile you were trying to break into a frown but was unable to.

“Sobriety first then we'll swim and surf and do whatever you want, baby.”

Just definitely not tonight.

[l0singsdogs]

batfam ! alternative universe, no powers.

I've had this idea for a while now. Spending so much time on social media, reading different takes, I started wondering—what if the Batfamily woke up in a completely normal universe? No aliens, no magic, no villains trying to take over the world every other week. Just… normal people, living normal lives—going to college, having relationships, working regular jobs. For a group of people used to fighting monsters and stopping world-ending threats, that kind of life would be unsettling.

read more, because this is long like really long.

But how did it happen? The usual way. A battle. A teenager getting their hands on something they shouldn’t have. Powers spiraling out of control. And, of course, the Batfam stepped in to fix it, because you know everything weird is always happening in Gotham. 

Batman calls for backup, but the family is still working through their issues. Dick and Jason barely talk, though they’re trying—because, at the end of the day, they’re still brothers. Then, suddenly, it’s just them. Just the Batfamily, thrown into this bizarrely ordinary world.

Duke sees the light first. Then Steph. Even Cass. And then—nothing.

They wake up somewhere else.

Bruce, as always, is the first to regain consciousness. But something is off. His mansion isn’t quite the same. It’s warmer, cozier. There are more pets curled up around the house. His bedroom is a mess—lived in. The walls are covered with photos of his kids. There are even pictures of him and Selina, scattered among them.

And then, he realizes just how wrong everything is.

His body aches, but not like it used to. There are no scars from old battles with the Joker. No lingering wounds from alien invasions. He still feels exhaustion in his bones, but it’s different—just the tiredness of a man his age, not the crushing weariness of a vigilante running on fumes. Even his reflection looks different. Relaxed, almost. Like he’s lived a life that wasn’t defined by war.

And that? That’s unsettling.

The next to wake up is Jason. And it's weird—because for the first time in years, his body doesn’t hurt. The familiar, constant pain is gone. The scars from his autopsy, from all the things that marked his past, aren’t there. He doesn’t feel the echoes of old wounds anymore. And where he wakes up doesn’t look like any of the safe houses he has scattered around Gotham. The last thing he remembers is fighting—arguing with Grayson over something stupid. Then the light—just for a second, he thought he was dying again. But, you know… in a way that wasn’t as catatonic? Then… he wakes up. The bedroom is unfamiliar, but somehow, it feels like his. Bookshelves are packed with novels of all kinds. Posters cover the walls—bands he actually likes: Rammstein, Linkin Park, System of a Down. A collection of motorcycle helmets is neatly displayed on a shelf. The whole place is put together, calm.

And then, the worst part. When he looks in the mirror, a scream rips from his throat.Because the thing that haunts him, in his life and in his dreams—his autopsy scars—are gone. Completely erased. All that remains is a single, unfamiliar scar near his heart.

Strange. The worst part? He has no idea why his head is pounding so hard. No clue why memories, both complicated and good, flash through his mind—but waking up from the dead isn’t one of them.

Dick is next.

And he wakes up pissed. Because, you know? He was in the middle of fighting with Jason. Jason, who treats everything like a joke. Jason, who doesn’t take things seriously when he should. Trying to fix things with him is exhausting—because Jason is too Jason. Stubborn, impatient, infuriating.

Then suddenly—this. The room is unfamiliar, but not completely. There’s a framed picture on his nightstand—him and Starfire. Kori Anders. His walls are lined with posters, some from his past. The Flying Graysons. His family.

It feels wrong. Off. Because he doesn’t live in the manor anymore. He doesn’t have photos of Kori in his room. And—most importantly—his bedroom has never looked this neat.

Not ever. There are no scattered pieces of his suit on the floor waiting to be washed. No mess of training gear dumped in a corner. Just sneakers. Gym clothes.

Then he hears it—a scream.

Jason. Dick tries to get up, but his body is too damn exhausted. It feels like lead, weighing him down. He can’t move. And for one horrible second, he wonders—maybe he died. Maybe he died and somehow took Jason with him.

The next to wake up is Tim—

Tim, who was already frustrated, tangled up in his own emotions. He had too much on his plate—leading his own team, growing distant from the manor, finishing his GED to leave high school early. Too many things were happening.

He wakes up to the sound of screaming.

For a second, he thinks he’s still in Gotham, still in the middle of that fight. But when he blinks, he’s somewhere else—another bedroom. And this one is a mess. Clothes on the floor, sneakers everywhere, a couple of skateboards tossed in a corner, video games and comics scattered around. The kind of room an eighteen-year-old should have.

Slowly, he opens his eyes.

He doesn’t feel the aches from past fights. He feels… lighter. His memories are hazy, and he can’t lie—this is weird. The light streaming through his window feels too warm, too bright. But the last thing he remembers? He was in Gotham, in the middle of a brutal winter.

And then—the worst part.

When he fully opens his eyes, he sees it.

A uniform.

One he knows from his nightmares.

Gotham Academy.

His blood runs cold. He’s convinced he’s trapped in a time loop. That somehow, he’s been sent back to high school.

And when he stumbles out of bed and catches sight of a framed photo—one of him and Conner Kent sitting on a shelf—he promptly passes out.

Yeah, sure, maybe the others think they’ve died.

But Tim?

Tim is convinced he’s in hell.

The last to wake up is Damian Wayne.

And he wakes up full of irritation, because the last thing he remembers is yelling at Drake, Jason, and Grayson—calling them idiots for letting their emotions get in the way of the fight. Telling them they were acting like children when they should’ve been handling the real problem. But now? Now he’s lying in bed, surrounded by warmth. His cat is curled up at his side. His dogs—Titus and Ace—are sprawled across the floor. Even Grayson’s new puppy, Haley, is nestled beside him. A tiny, scruffy thing missing a leg, one that Damian had reluctantly (not really) half-adopted in his head.

It’s the screaming that wakes him. That, and the warmth.

Because it doesn’t make sense. Why is the sun streaming into his room? Why does it feel like July when they were just in December? They were days away from the holidays.

And now this. The first thing he sees are his animals. Did the fight end that quickly? Did he lose consciousness? His body isn’t injured, his skills are intact—nothing about his reflexes feels off.

But the room?

That’s what unsettles him. The walls are covered with things—art, sports memorabilia, books, musical instruments. A guitar. Sure, he knows how to play, but he’s never been the kind of person to keep one in his bedroom. And speaking of his bedroom…

This isn’t it.

It’s missing things. His weapons. His swords. The League of Assassins insignias. His belongings. But what truly throws him off?

A framed photo. One of him and his mother.

Talia al Ghul never took photos. Not with him. Not with anyone. The League of Assassins didn’t believe in cameras, in preserving memories like that. And yet, here it is.

And that’s when it finally sinks in. Something is very, very wrong.

That’s how it happens. A wild fight. A teenager with uncontrolled, inexplicable powers. And just like that, the Batfamily wakes up in another universe.

A universe with no powers. No aliens. No world-ending crises. Just an ordinary life. And the only thing they know for sure?

Five of them find themselves in a living room. A living room that is distinctly not theirs. Because their living room is grand, filled with history, with antique furniture and endless shadows.

But this? This looks like something out of an interior design magazine. Minimalist. Sleek. A massive TV taking up the wall.

The others? Duke, Steph, Cass?

Yeah.

Their experiences waking up are even worse.

So, yeah. This is what I have in mind. I don’t know if I’ll keep writing—it depends on how this goes. These ideas just keep coming to me, and I’m debating whether to drop all of this as a one-shot or turn it into a full fic on AO3.

I’d love to hear thoughts on it—believe me, I have a lot more ideas.

[myshadowsbackstage]

Repercussions | Suna x Reader.

Summary: Everything was fine until Rintarou decided to say that. And you get him, you really do, so you try to do him a favor. You're doing Rintarou a favor, so why does he feel like he wants to punch Atsumu anytime he sees you two together.

College! au, gn! reader, platonic! Atsumu, angst with a happy ending (I think). Inarizaki is a college team because why not.

W/c: 5,5k

a/n: Hello! I really hope you enjoy your reading. English isn't my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. Also, this is -literally- my first piece of fiction in like... at least 6 years, so any *constructive* feedback is highly appreciated.

You were doing your way to the kitchen when you heard him.

Suna and you went to a birthday party of a friend of yours, and at some point during the night you and him got separated. You went to play with some of your friends while he stayed talking to a group of guys he met that night that really seemed to like him. 

After dancing and fooling around you felt the need for a glass of water, so you went to the kitchen looking for something to satiate your thirst. 

You heard a masculine voice. "It's like once you start a relationship, any sense of freedom it's just gone". Laughter, and another voice "Like when they cling to your arm or something, and it's like, God, just let me breathe for once"

His voice. 

And you swear, a punch to the gut would have been less painful. Still, you didn't stop walking and went to the kitchen anyway. A sudden silence filled the room and that seemed to make the voices in your head louder. 

Should I say something? Confront him. Go away. Say something. How could you act like nothing happened? What the fuck do I say to that. I want to cry. I wanna scream. Punch him. Fucking punch him. How could I? How could he?

God, you were dizzy.

"Hey, y/n" His voice was shaking, you could almost see his face just by hearing him. Twisted in an uncomfortable grimace "Everything alright?"

"Yes" You didn't dare looking at his face, working on autopilot while taking a bottle of juice to serve yourself. 

"Cool... Cool, are you having fun? Do you need anything?" And that switched something inside of you because how could he dare to play dumb like that.

You looked him in the eye and seeing the unshed tears burning in your eyes finally shut him up.

"No, I'm fine"

Without wanting to spend another second in that place, you left the bottle on the counter, fighting not to squeeze the vase in your hand while you got away from that place.

But who were you fooling, you were never good at pushing your feelings away. You wore your heart on your sleeve. Even if you didn't want to, the tears escaped, so you just left the vase on a table on the way to the bathroom, praying for it to be empty.

In the kitchen, Suna stood up, not knowing what to do. The silence kept stretching, and he was a moment away from tearing his hair with his own hands.

What possessed him to say such a thing, he had no idea. He didn't mean it, of course he didn't mean it, but the guys were joking, and being received so easily by a group of people wasn't something that happened to Suna a lot, he just wanted to be a part of it.

But not at the expense of you. Never again at the expense of you. Seeing the betrayal in your eyes made him realize what a stupid thing left his mouth just to be seen as cool by a bunch of random guys whom he would probably never see again.

So he went after you.

He knew you enough to know that you would look for a quiet place to let loose, and considering that this was supposed to be a party, he knew there weren't a lot of places to do that, so he went for the most obvious place to go in this situation.

He knocked on the door three times. "Hey, y/n, are you there?" The music and laughter around the place almost didn't let him hear it, but there they were. Soft sniffles coming from the other side of the door. He kept knocking and calling your name a few times, until he thought that it would be better to let you have your space for a while before trying to do anything about it.

He came back to the kitchen, where the group was still dealing with the tension in the air. When they saw Suna's face, they gave up. 

"Hey, you okay?" Asked one of them.

"I think so... I don't know" Another tsked and awkwardly patted Suna's shoulder.

"Give them some time"

"Yeah" another interjected "They're gonna get over it in no time"

And if you asked him at that moment, he wouldn't have been able to pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was the look on your face when he saw you, the tears dwelling on your eyes, the way your voice strangled in an attempt not to waver, or your sniffles through the door, maybe the image of you, hiding in a bathroom sobbing all by yourself, or maybe that it was all his fault, but something snapped inside of him.

"No, you see? That's the problem. I don't have to wait for them to move on, I can't wait for them to move on. That's not the way you treat a partner. If you fuck up, then you make up for it, you don't get to continue your life as if nothing happened. I mean, if you really prefer to get away with being an asshole, and not suffer the consequences of that, rather than speaking to your partner, why the fuck do you have one in the first place?"

Most of the guys averted their eyes. Some were pretending to drink, while others suddenly picked an interest in the room's decoration, but not one of them could look Rintarou in the eye.

"Chill, dude, we we're just trying to–" 

"Save it"

After that, Suna got up and went wandering around the house, ignoring everyone and wondering  Now, what the fuck do I do now? 

He tried, he really tried, but his own body was reacting to the guilt, and he was sure his stomach were not gonna be able to handle another minute of being on your bad side, so he came back to the bathroom.

He could still hear you. Softer. Calmer. But still going. He knocked again.

"Y/n?" 

Silence.

"I know you probably don't want to see me right now, but... I really regret saying that, if you could let me...  Please, just hear me out, I can't–" Suna's own voice staggered "I can't bear to be like this. Please. Let me fix this"

The lock clicked, and the door barely opened. Enough to let him know that he could enter, but not enough to even see inside. He still pushed, and once inside, closed and locked the door again to not be disturbed.

Then he saw you.

Curled up, hugging your own knees, hiding your face in them while trying to control your breathing. Suna wanted to hold your hands, your face, touch in any way to reassure you. Somehow. However, he knew better. You barely let him inside, going straight to physical touch would be anything but the smart choice, so he put his back on the door and slid to the floor. Giving you some distance.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it. Really, I didn’t” Ashamed, he cast his eyes to the floor, picking the skin around his nails. “I just… the guys were joking, and I didn’t want to be left out like I always do, and I know it sounds absolutely dumb to use that as an excuse, because it is. But…” He crawled a little, getting closer, still not daring to touch you. “I promise, I love whenever you hug me, or take my arm, or anything, just anything really. I adore how you are so unapologetically you, and just show your love the way you want to, and I would have never accepted being your boyfriend if that weren’t the case, okay?” Just then he made his first attempt, putting his hands on your knees, caressing in little circles, and getting gradually closer to your head, aiming to take off your face from its hiding spot “Please, don’t do that. Don’t hide from me, I want to see your–”

“How am I supposed to believe that?” Suna went silent, and it was that which made you look up to him. “How am I supposed to believe that my boyfriend isn’t sick of me when he speaks like that so easily to a stranger? Was it because they wouldn’t snitch on you? They don’t know me, don’t own me anything, why would they tell me about it?”

“No, no, it wasn’t like that–”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure!”

Another silence filled the air. Both of you looking at each other’s faces, panting. Suna was the first to sigh, trying to lower the volume of his voice.

“You don’t believe me, I get it. Which is why I need you to look me in the eye when I say this” At that, he held your face, forcing eye contact “I did not mean it. Just wanted to belong to that shitty group for an hour, and it was one of the worst mistakes I have ever made, only surpassed by that time I chickened out on asking you on a date, so I had to watch fucking Omimi shooting his shot instead, thank God that really didn’t go anywhere, because I swear those were the worst six months of my life” You couldn’t help to laugh a little, remembering that messy time for you and your relationship with the Inarizaki team. “And now I got to be the person you should rely on, and I fuck it up.” Suna laughs humorlessly “Forgive me, please. I know it may be too much to ask, but give me the opportunity to show you I really care”

You fell back, away from his touch and wiped out your tears before answering. “I want to, I really want to, but Rin…” A nickname. Suna thought there might be hope after all “What guaranteed do I have of this not happening again? Hell, how do I know you won’t be trash mouthing me anytime we get separated?”

“I won’t”

“But how do I know that?”

“You’ll feel it”

“What are you talking about?” You were sure Suna hit himself in the head at some point during the last 10 seconds of your conversation, but then he took your hands, his grip was firm, a bit harsh even, desperate. 

“I’ll be the best boyfriend I can be, I’ll let you feel how important you are to me, you’ll feel how much I love you, and your hugs, and kisses, and pats, anything you give me. You’ll never doubt yourself again. You hear me?”

Part of you still was unsure about the situation, but Suna had that look on his face. The one where his eyes opened up just a little bit more, and his lips parted. Lowering all of his defenses to show that his intentions were true.

“Okay”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” At that, he couldn’t restrain himself anymore and enveloped you in a hug, caressing your hair with one of his hands, allowing you to rest on his chest, smelling that perfume you adored so much.

“I am not disappointing you again.”

Truth is, Suna was true to his word. After getting out of the bathroom, he spent the rest of the night with you, just talking, drinking a little bit, even dancing for a bit when you asked him to under the pretence of atoning for his sins.

However, something inside you still felt unsure. Suna swore up and down that something like that would never happen again, and it got you wondering, if something like that were to actually bother him one day, would he tell you?

Because it wasn’t a lie when you said he wasn’t the most touchy person before he got with you, and that was something you both knew. Part of you still thought that maybe, just maybe, part of what Suna said at the party was true, and he felt uncomfortable with you being glued to him any chance you got.

And since he did his part in showing you how much he cared for you, you decided to do him a favor.

You would do it gradually. Suna is a perceptive person, any abrupt change would startle him immediately, and you would also allow yourself some things. You wouldn’t compromise hugging while sleeping, or napping, you liked that way too much, but perhaps holding his hand when you were sitting at some table on campus wasn’t that necessary. Nor was holding his arms when you were watching movies, for a few scenes maybe, just not the whole thing. Hugging his back when he was cooking was kind of uncomfortable, but you still could do it while waiting for the water to boil whenever you made tea.

Yeah, you could do it. 

The smell of the gym was something you were long accustomed to. The humidity in the air by sweaty bodies jumping and running non stop was something that didn’t make you flinch anymore. Not that much, at least.

Suna and you were holding hands when you entered. Some of the guys were warming up, others chit chatting here and there. Atsumu was about to enter the court, ball already in his hands when he saw you.

“Y/n!”

“Tsumu!” You let go of your boyfriend’s hand and run to hug your best friend. Atsumu and you used to be aware of each other, seeing one another on campus a few times, but you didn’t get close until you started your thing with Suna, when your company during practice became part of the routine. At the beginning, it was a bit awkward, you could tell Atsumu didn’t like your presence very much, thinking you were going to be a distraction for the middle blocker, but if anything, Suna wanted to impress you, so he stopped lacking off any chance he got, and suddenly Atsumu thought that maybe having you there wasn’t so bad after all. He started being nicer to you and the rest was history, you two connected in a way you haven’t with any other person in university.

“You okay? How’s Sunarin treating you? Had he done something to punch him?” You laughed, not letting go of him.

“Sorry, but you’ll have to keep waiting”

“Damn, when is the universe giving me an opportunity to smack the guy?” You heard Suna letting go of a sigh at Atsumu’s antics.

“If anything happens, I’ll let you know”

“Please”

You let go of him and went to your usual spot on the bench. The guys started practice and you used the time to read.

This was all part of your routine. The guys knew you would always be there during practice , and since you would be sitting in silence, without distracting any of the guys, the coach allowed it. Every break you would seize the opportunity to go and pamper your boyfriend, or even better, pester Atsumu. Neither the guys, nor Suna said anything about it, you didn’t want to let them know. To let him know.

Two weeks pass by, and something in the back of Suna’s mind starts to nag at him. He can’t tell what it is, but there is definitely something different between you two. You keep accompanying him to practice, he stills waits for you at the station so you can go to class together, you two still wait for the other, depending on who finish class later that day, you two still go to each other’s houses and sleep hugging each other, you still talk, and message the other when you’re not together, then what is it?

You two enter the gym, and before he can process it, you let go of him to go say hi to Atsumu. When he sees you two, his stomach does something. He knows it’s not jealousy, because he would trust his life to you, and even if he would never say it out loud, the truth is, he trusts Atsumu too, he knows nothing romantic would ever happen between the two of you. So why? Why does he feel so aware of the way your arms are wrapped around each other, noticing how you just don’t let go, which of course you don’t, you never do, you love too much to do that, that was one of the reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. That never ending love that made everyone around you feel seen.

He doesn’t have the energy to keep thinking about it, he doesn’t want to, so he just puts out his phone and scrolls on social media while you talk to Atsumu on the court, waiting for practice to officially start. You don’t get to see Atsumu that much outside of practice, so he doesn’t intend to ruin that for you. Not now, not during breaks. Not last week, not this week, and he doesn’t do it either the next week. He just takes his phone and sets his eyes on the screen, nothing but the screen. He knows if he allows himself to go with any of the guys, he would inevitably see the two of you, and if he sees you, then he has to think about what makes him so… he doesn’t even know what he is feeling right now, a sense of loss he doesn’t know where is coming from, that started only when he was in practice, but 3 days ago, it started to plague his mind during the rest of the day, and he can’t bear to feel any of that.

When it comes to you, the truth is, you don’t realize what you’re doing. In your mind, your plan to give Suna his space is going on with flying colors. He has not said anything, and looks as calm as ever, so you must be doing it right. The problem is, you love to be touchy, you just can’t help it, you love to hold and be held, give and receive, you need it. And if your body can’t have your boyfriend, then somebody else needs to fill that need.

Osamu does realize it though. So does Kita, and Aran, and Ginjima, and the whole team really. 

Yes, even Atsumu.

He hasn’t asked about it, because he knows that if something bothers you that much, you would tell him, but lately things seems to have spiraled in this weird setting where the moment you step on the gym, Suna ceases to exist, and he looks absolutely unbothered by it, burying himself in his phone, and not speaking with anyone on the team. Even the coach went to Kita asking if everything was alright, or if he should intervene. Shinsuke reassured him that they would handle the situation.

“How’s it going?”

“Nothing”

“Should we intervene?”

“I’m not sure” Atsumu replied. Osamu was across from him, arms crossed, pretending to look at the court while actually having an eye on Suna, who was playing something on his phone while you were in the bathroom.

“It’s been almost three weeks”

“I know, but I’m not sure how to approach it. They hadn’t told me anything about it”

“Well, ask, then.” 

Atsumu growled. “It’s not that easy”

“Yes, it is”

“You do it, then”

“Okay, but what if…” At that, Atsumu looked at his brother, interested. “You talk to y/n, and I go talk to Rin, how’s that?” Atsumu sighed, thinking about it.

“Okay”

Another three days pass by before the perfect moment to have that conversation appears. Coach called for a short break, yet Osamu noticed how he picked up a call and after asking who was he walking to, his face changed and he went away for a bit of privacy. Surely the call would take a bit of time. He sees Atsumu talking to you on a bench, while you play absentmindedly with his hair. Atsumu feels the drilling look of his brother and as soon as Osamu gets his brother’s attention, he makes a quick nod at Suna and a thumbs up. Atsumu gives a quick wink at his brother, acknowledging the situation, and as Osamu makes his way to Rin, he sees how Atsumu takes your hand and guides you to a quieter corner of the gym.

“Hey”

“Hey” Suna doesn’t take his eyes away from the screen.

“How’s it going?”

“Good. You?” Osamu laughs and nudges the middle blocker.

“Nah, don’t bullshit me, I know you better than that and you know it”

For the first time in what feels like forever, Rintarou takes his eyes away from the phone. “I don’t know”

“You don’t know?” Osamu was at the verge of teasing him, but as soon as he sees the troubled look on his friend, he decides against it.

“Honestly, I don’t know, it’s just…”

Osamu tries to help him, tentatively. “Does it have to do with y/n?” Suna looked down.

“Yeah” There was silence for a moment. Osamu didn’t dare press any further. “I… I really don’t know how to talk about this, everything seems fine, but… but it doesn’t feel fine. It’s… something’s been off for a while, and I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Haven’t you tried to talk with them about it?”

“No. I mean… It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that… I don’t know what would I say to them. ‘Hey, I feel you’re mad at me, even though you act the same as always’ doesn’t seem to cut it” Osamu plays with his fingers, wanting to play dumb as much as he can.

“I mean, if it has you feeling like this even at practice, maybe they haven’t really been acting the same as always.” Suna hums and Osamu decides he may need to pick a bit deeper if he wants to get something out of Rin. “Does this have to do with my brother?”

Rintarou sighs and puts his phone aside, putting his feet on the same table as his, and letting his elbows rest on his knees. “Is it that obvious?”

“You want me to answer that honestly?” They both laugh softly, and Suna seems to relax for a bit, knowing Osamu wouldn’t judge him for being honest.

“Yes, it has to do with Atsumu, but at the same time… no? Ugh, I don’t even know what I’m saying”

“Tsumu, what are you doing?”

“Just wanted to have a conversation without any monkey interrupting us” You would have laughed, but the implications of that sentence put you on some kind of edge.

“A conversation? Atsumu, is everything alright?” 

“I don’t know, you tell me” There is a beat of silence, the confusion written all over your face.

“What?”

“God, I didn’t want to ask like this but… I can tell something has been bothering you, and you know I don’t like to pry, and I trust you would tell me if anything serious is going on, but I know there is something you aren’t telling me, or anyone for that matter. What is it?” You put on a facade a second to late, he noticed the way you tried to evade his gaze before giving him a little smile.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“Yes, you do”

And it was the look on his eyes. The way his voice was so assertive without being accusatory. Not judging, not attacking, just stating a fact. And it could have been any other of the guys, you would have kept pretending, but this was Atsumu. Atsumu who managed to win you even after giving you the cold shoulder the first time he saw you. Atsumu who would always make sure you were feeling comfortable and welcomed anywhere as long as he was present. Atsumu who would take your side anytime you had a fight with Suna even if he knew you were in the wrong just because you needed the support. This was your friend.

“It feels like he’s getting all the attention” Getting those words out of his mouth felt as if rocks made their way slowly from Suna’s stomach to his mouth. He felt absolutely embarrassed. “In private I still get the hugs, and… that stuff, but whenever we’re here it’s just… I become a background character or something, a fucking npc or whatever”

“Does this happen only with Atsumu?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, even if he’s busy they manage to be with someone else, being all touchy and fuck, it sounds so shitty, but I swear, it doesn’t bother that they are doing it, it’s just…” The sentence hung up in the air, but Osamu got perfectly what  Rintarou was trying to say.

It was messy, but he knew his friend enough to know he would rather drink a bottle of vinegar in one go before admitting that he just wanted physical touch.

“When was your last fight?”

“Our last fight?

“Yeah, or a discussion, anything really”

“Uh… I don’t know, like three months, maybe”

“What was it about?”

“It was about…” Osamu looked at Suna’s face, trying to recall when was the last time you had an actual fight and not a discussion about what show you would be watching before sleeping, and he could swear he saw the exact moment the gears in his friend’s mind started to work. “Motherfucker”

“What is it?”

“That fucking party” Osamu waited “We got separated, I was mingling with a bunch of guys, we were just talking, but they started speaking about how annoyed they felt at their partners sometimes, and…stupid me, just because I wanted to say something, I basically said that I would get annoyed by them hanging onto me any chance, or something like that. Doesn’t matter really.” Suna sighed, “Thing is, they heard me.” Osamu stayed there, suddenly very aware that they were supposed to still be in practice and praying to all the gods for the coach not to come back yet. Not when the conversation got that serious. “I apologize, we spoke about it, I told them I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to… participate, I guess.” Another moment of silence, Suna’s gaze glued to the floor “Now that I think about it, this has been going on ever since”

“I see…”

“You’re not gonna say anything else?”

“I want to say a lot of things, but most of them aren’t very nice, and ultimately, I think you already know them” Suna let out a bitter laugh.

“I guess you’re right”

They both let another moment pass, settling their emotions.

“Well, at least you solved the mystery, now you can say you want their attention without looking like you are constipated”

“I did not look like that”

“Yes, you did, but it’s okay, because now you have an actual argument to backup that feeling”

“I guess… Fucking Atsumu, getting all of the attention”

“Of course, you know he would never reject them”

“You think y/n told him anything? He seems pretty oblivious about it” For Suna’s sake, Osamu chose not to point out that, in fact, Rintarou hasn’t looked at anything his teammates has been doing for the past weeks. 

“Judging by his expression, I think he found out about 5 seconds ago” Rintarou followed the gaze of Osamu and found Atsumu holding both of your hands. He couldn’t see your face, but he could see Atsumu’s clenched jaw, and his overall tense posture.

Suna sighed again “Considering this may be my final moments, just so you know, you were always my favorite Miya” Osamu lets out a laugh so deep, it reverberates throughout the gym, gaining the attention of some of the members as the coach came back.

“I already knew that”

“Okay, guys, sorry for the tardiness, let’s come back, come on!”

Both guys got up, and before entering the court, Osamu squeezed Suna’s shoulder.

“I’m here whatever happens, okay? Don’t forget that”

Practice finished with… a sort of tension. Suna could tell Atsumu was trying to pretend everything was normal, but he has always been shit at acting, so every person in the gym could tell something was up with him, while Osamu was the only one ignoring his twin’s antics and actually acting like everything was fine. To Suna, that made the situation even more disturbing.

Once the coach signaled the end of practice, Suna almost ran for his things. When he got out of the lockers, he saw Atsumu talking to you, doing gestures with his hands and moving his mouth at a speed that made Suna dizzy even through the distance. When Atsumu saw Rintarou, he stopped abruptly, making you turn away and give him a tight smile. If he wasn’t so nervous already he would have burst his ass laughing at Atsumu’s cartoonish ways.

While he made his way to you, Atsumu gave you a quick hug and just a wave to Rintarou as he made his way to his brother.

“Do you want to go for some ice cream?” He asked suddenly. You looked at him a little confused, yet seeing his face, a sort of mutual understanding passed through both of you.

“I would love to”

Shyly, you extended your hand. He took it, intertwining your fingers, and giving a soft squeeze. 

As you walked to your favorite ice cream shop, the streets seemed to have a little more color, the air felt a little more fresher, the neighbourhood was a little bit quieter.

“Rin…”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to talk to you”

“I’d like that too” Both of you squeeze the other’s hand “Would you like to begin?”

“Yes.” He gave you your time. “I know I haven’t been the best to you lately, I’ve been acting weirdly, and I know you noticed, and we just haven’t addressed the situation, and god, I hate we let it get to this point. We should’ve… I should’ve talked to you sooner” Suna nodded his head a little, showing he was listening “To be honest… I’ve been feeling insecure because… well, I… You…”

“Y/n” He interrupted softly “Does this have to do with what I said at that party?” You let the air you were holding out, relieved that he was willing to address the situation.

“Yes.”

“Okay” Suna kept quiet again, waiting for you to elaborate from there.

“To be honest, I still feel insecure about it. I know you told me, and even insisted that you didn’t mean it, and whatnot, but it made me think perhaps there were times where you didn’t want to be touched all the time, but you didn’t tell me just so you wouldn’t hurt my feelings. And Rin, I would hate to make you feel uncomfortable, or that you need to suck up with things you don’t like just for my sake. I thought… I wanted to do you a favor by giving you space, because I know that is something you appreciate.”

Suna bit his lip, nodding “I’m sorry”

“What for?”

“Because you shouldn’t be feeling like this. I told you that day I would make you feel appreciated and it looks like I failed again. Even worse, I knew there was something, I didn’t talk to you about it sooner ‘cause I haven’t figured it out yet, if you had asked me before, I wouldn’t have known what to say. But I knew there was something, and maybe I should have tried to figure this out with you, not wait for it to be something so big, and drag you through this feeling for so long.” At this point, Suna stopped walking and took both of your hands, facing you. “I’ve been such a shitty boyfriend, and I hate it.”

“Don’t say that”

“But it’s true, isn’t it?” He held your face with one of his hands, tender, while the other held your hands firmly “I love so much, and you let me show it to you any way I want. I always thought that I would do the same for you, and I’ve been doing anything but. Just stop this. I want it. I want all of you. Hughes, kisses, pats, cuddles, everything. I’m sorry it took me losing that to appreciate it, I really am. So, please, if it’s something you want to give me, if you are still willing to give it to me… I would really appreciate that.” In that last sentence, Rintarou’s voice broke a bit, and it was all that it took for you to slide your arms around him, giving gentle caresses on his head, encouraging him to nuzzle in your neck.

“I would love to, Rin” You stayed there for a bit, just holding each other. Drinking on that moment of intimacy at plain sight.

“I don’t deserve you”

“Oh, stop it” You let go, laughing. He gave you a little yet relaxed smile in return. Everything seemed to fall into place again. “C’mon now” You took one of his hands, and started walking again “I really could do with some ice cream right now.”

[missallanious]

Jojo’s Bizarre Viking AU

Okuyasu and Josuke Meet - Oneshot

Okuyasu Nijimura crouched in a tree, watching through the leaves as two figures approached the stream bank. His brother, Keicho, was on a different branch, also watching. The two figures (one boy and one man, judging by their statures), were chatting quietly and split up, searching the plants in and around the stream, plucking some every now and then and calling out their discoveries to each other. Okuyasu turned to his brother, looking for a sign of any kind. Keicho, for his part, looked delighted, and held up a hand for Oku to wait. At least, that’s what Okuyasu hoped it meant. Sometimes he got Keicho’s hand signals wrong, and had the scars to show for it.

His brother quietly pulled out his bow and an arrow from his quiver, taking aim at the smaller figure below.

Oku knew this plan, and breathed an inward sigh of relief; his brother, using his prowess with long-range weapons, would take out one of their victims, and it would be up to Oku and his close-range fighting style to take out the other one. Then, they would steal all they could from their downed opponents. He glanced between the two people puttering around the burbling stream, and wondered briefly why his brother was choosing to aim at the smaller boy. The other man, taller and well built, seemed like the better one to be taken out first. Maybe his brother meant to fire a warning shot, scare away the smaller one?

That thought was quickly dashed as Keicho loosed his arrow, striking the boy and felling him instantly.

Oku squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away briefly. He wished they didn’t have to fight, to kill, but his brother was on a mission of some kind. And Oku was too stupid to fend for himself, so he stayed.

Oku shook himself and readied to jump down from his perch, to start what he knew to be his duty of fighting the other his brother hadn’t taken out. But Keicho’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder, stopping him. Looking gleeful, Keicho pointed to the tall man on the ground, who Oku now noticed showed no signs of noticing his fallen comrade. Keicho practically slithered down the tree, creeping over to where the boy had collapsed, and quietly dragged the prone form into the woods behind the tree Oku as still perched on.

Okuyasu watched, confused, as his brother began to rifle through the body’s pockets and pouches, dumping things unceremoniously on the ground, searching. Then, a shout.

The man had finally noticed his missing companion and, judging by his frantic steps forward, had also seen the faint remains of blood swirling in the stream waters and smeared on the bank, leading back to where Keicho still crouched. Keicho glared briefly at his brother before turning back to his task, leaving Oku to do what he did best.

Fight.

Okuyasu leaped down from the tree, landing with a splash in the water, effectively blocking the path of the searching man. Who, now that he was closer, Oku realized was slightly taller than himself and had piercing blue eyes. Instinct, as it so rarely did, took over for Okuyasu, and he leapt forward instantly. His first punch landed, striking the other’s jaw and knocking him backwards, and then the fight was on.

His opponent, though taken by surprise and staggered by the first blow, gave as good as he got. Okuyasu found himself nearly being pushed back by the onslaught of blows, his own breaking through occasionally and striking the other’s face, chest, and stomach. The second he had to take a step back, nearly losing his balance on the slick rocks beneath his boots, and the other man made a move to go around him, Okuyasu pulled out his one weapon.

It was an odd weapon, made by himself for himself, and only he knew how to utilize it; a strong cord, with a fair amount of length and secured to his belt, and a strong iron hook at the end. The hook was blunt and scuffed from years of wear, but did it’s job as wonderfully as a worn bone leatherworking tool.

Grabbing the hook, he swung with terrifying accuracy and snagged his opponent’s arm, yanking the cord to pull the man back into his waiting fists. With his other hand he caught the hook as it swung back, ready for another use. The man he was fighting looked shocked (understandably so), and was clocked again as Okuyasu threw the hook again, hitting his forhead with a sickening whack. Okuyasu once again caught the hook as he pulled it back, taking a firm stance between the man and his objective. To Okuyasu’s surprise, the man started to speak.

“Please,” his voice wavered for a moment, and he spat some blood into the stream, “please, I’m a healer! I need to save my friend, he’s my apprentice, I can’t— why are you doing this?” Okuyasu wasn’t prepared for this. The man was staring at him, eyes piercing and pleading even under the blood pouring from his forehead. Oku wasn’t great with words; hell, he wasn’t even good with thoughts. But this man was looking at him so earnestly that he felt compelled to speak (and he could practically hear his brother screaming at him to just shut up, Okuyasu, you don’t know anything!).

“I—we—“ he stuttered, before finding his voice. “My brother’s looking for something. He thinks your friend has it.” He clenched his jaw and firmly avoided the other’s eyes as he finished. “He’s already dead. I….I’m sorry. You should go while you can, I’ll tell my brother you beat me,” Okuyasu turned back to the man and felt as if he was punched in the gut by the sheer despair in the other’s eyes. He lowered his arms and started pleading.

“Please, just go! I’ll—I’ll make sure we leave your friend’s body, you can come back for it later! Just get out of here now, before—“ and then he felt his stomach hit his boots as an arrow appeared to suddenly be growing out of his opponent’s shoulder. Okuyasu whirled to face his brother, standing now, another arrow already nocked and ready to fire. He distantly heard a splash as the man behind him must’ve fallen into the water, but his focus was on the arrow that appeared to be aimed at him. Even knowing that Keicho hated when he spoke, Okuyasu felt that he had to try.

“Keicho,” he held his hands out and low, shoulders starting to hunch with nerves, “Brother, please, we should let him go, he’s a healer—“ Okuyasu was cut off as an arrow whizzed past him, clipping his ear and slicing his cheek. His brother’s cold voice rang out, and a whirring sound could be heard as his brother switch from arrow to his sling. He liked top use his sling on Okuyasu; hurt him, but less blood to clean up, Keicho claimed.

“I knew i couldn’t count on you, brother mine,” Keicho sneered. “You’ve always been too kind for your own good.” Keicho took a step forward, and something flashed around his waist. Before Okuyasu could blink, he felt the CRACK echo in his skull as the stone fired from his brother’s sling caught his brow. Okuyasu fell to his knees, clutching his face in pain, eyes spinning as he tried to focus. He could faintly hear steps around him; in front? Or behind? The splashing steps echoed in his ears and he couldn’t pinpoint them.

He still valiantly attempted to get back on his feet, protesting even as his brother kept speaking.

“Keicho, they’re healers, we shouldn’t—“

“If you wanted to be this noble, you should have thought of that before you became so stupid.”

“I’m sorry, brother, I know I—“

“You don’t know anything!! You’ve always been an idiot, but at least you would do what I told you! You’ve always been a burden to me; I don’t even see you as w brother anymore!”

A strong hand gripped Okuyasu’s chin and forced him to look up, meeting his brother’s furious gaze.

“Who took care of you all these years!?”

“You,” Okuyasu replied weakly, tears staring to burn as his brother’s words continued to cut.

“Who taught you everything, who kept you alive!?”

“You, brother, but—”

“Stop sniveling! If you’re not even going to do as I say then I have no use for you.” His brother drew back, face impassive as Okuyasu began to cry in earnest, begging his brother to please don’t abandon me, please, I’ll be good, but Keicho merely let go of his brother and turned his attention to the man Okuyasu had been fighting. He wrapped his sling back around his waist and again pulled out his bow and arrow, taunting the man.

“Don’t worry, your friend died quickly. I’ll make sure to bury you next to him.” Keicho nocked his arrow and aimed at the glaring man, who had managed to pull the arrow out of his shoulder, but was still clutching it as it bled.

Okuyasu was a few things; stupid, strong, and, if his brother’s words were anything to go by, a burden. He was also incredibly stubborn. So, as soon as the thought to save the healer entered his head, he was as likely to let it go as a starving dog letting go of a steak.

Before anyone could react, Okuyasu had swung his hook. It caught his brother’s arm and he yanked, managing to simultaneously aim the arrow away from the wounded healer… and make his brother fire. Which wouldn’t have been that bad, if Okuyasu wasn’t now in the line of fire.

The shot hit with a dull thwack, and Oku blinked at the arrow now settled firmly in his side. His brother started to scream at him while furiously nocking another shaft, the healer inexplicably also yelling at him? Okuyasu wasn’t sure why, exactly, but all thoughts were effeciantly overrun by the sudden ROAR from the treeline, just to the side of where the healer’s companion lay. All three men turned to the biggest bear any of them had ever seen, still belting out its roar as it pawed the ground. Keicho had time only to release two shots before the bear was upon him. Okuyasu, who was between the bear and healer, tried again to stand, yelling for the other to grab his friend’s body and run. He managed to get to his feet, albeit wobbly, and mobbed to take a step towards the bear and brother brawl ahead of him, when something tugged his arm and he fell back, landing firmly ion the grasp of the healer who quickly placed a vial of.. something, to Oku’s lips. He was too surprised to do anything but drink, and when the healer grabbed the arrow in his side and pulled, he let out a surprised yelp. He grabbed at his side, but was amazed to find that there was no pouring blood. No pain. And, amazingly, no hole in his side. The only sign that the arrow had, in fact, been inside his body, was the torn bloody clothing and bloody arrow now bobbing downstream. Okuyasu turned his scarred face to the healer, who seemed to be a bit pale.

“Why did you save me?” Oku couldn’t stop himself from asking. He has attacked the man, his brother had killed his friend! There was no reason Okuyasu could think of for the healer to, well. Heal him. The healer looked at him, something in his gaze that Okuyasu couldn’t place.

“You saved me first,” he replied. “You just…seemed to be a pretty great guy.”

Okuyasu didn’t have time to unpack all of that. So he didn’t.

Feeling much better than maybe he ever had, Okuyasu leapt into action. Grabbing the healer around the waist (ignoring the surprised grunt), he flung his hook at a tree branch and yanked with all his might, jumping at the same time. This effectively pulled them both out of the water and across, into the tree line. Still holding the healer, he flicked his wrist to free the hook as he sprinted past to the place he knew the healer’s apprentice to be. Gritting his teeth at the sight, he placed the healer down and briefly met his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He said solemnly. “For everything.”

And before the other could respond, he turned and ran back to where his brother was fighting the bear.

The stream was now frothy and violent, the vicious swipes of the bear and stomps from both parties stirring up clouds of mud, mixing with the blood poring from various wounds and turning the water a dirty red. Okuyasu hesitated for only a second, before he saw an opening and jumped in. He flung his hook and yanked, stopping the bear from taking Keicho’s head off with its powerful paw, and splitting the attention between himself and his (wounded) brother. It roared again, enraged, and charged him. He pulled his hook back in time to hang it on his belt before the bear was on him, and he did his very best to keep it occupied. Punching its face, going for its eyes, grabbing the cheek skin to keep it semi-still as he went for its weak points. For the bear’s part, it clawed and bit and tried to disembowel him. He managed to dodge the worst strikes, but was still bleeding profusely by the time a shout rang out from behind the bear.

Keicho had righted himself, blood pouring from open gashes on his side and hairline. He took aim and fired an arrow right into the bear’s eye. It have an unearthly howl of pain and rounded on him. Keicho fired shaft after shaft into the charging behemoth, slowing but not stopping it. It reared up and roared again, another two arrows hitting the chest and throat area, before it stomped down, crushing Keicho with a sickening crunch.

Okuyasu would later swear he saw Keicho close his eyes as the bear fell on him, looking at peace for the first time in years.

The bear snuffled around a moment as its adversary stopped moving, then itself staggered and slumped into the water. Keicho’s arrow littered its body like porcupine quills, and it gave a last shuddering breath before it was still.

Okuyasu, now bleeding yet again from the bear’s claws and teeth marks on his skin, gave a broken sob and lurched forward. His brother’s body was still, half pinned under the monster bear, his head beneath the uncaring water. Oku splashed closer, hoarsely calling his brother’s name. He fell to his knees by his brother’s head, cradling it in his lap and trying to bring it above the water. He helplessly noticed that no bubbles were coming from his brother’s nose, no signs of life apparent, and clung to Keicho’s head, crying quietly.

The stream, now calm after the fight, burbled onwards, carrying away the blood and tears of the Nijimura brothers, and the lifeblood of the downed bear.

After what could have been an eternity, but equally could have been just a minute, Okuyasu began to hear voices nearing him. He raised his head, eyes and cheeks puffy from tears and head starting to throb with what he could only assume would be a terrible headache.

Maybe I used my brain to much today, he mused, then blinked as he saw the source of the voices round a big tree. It was the healer and — his companion? He was alive??

The taller healer saw Okuyasu and let out an excited yell, right as Okuyasu burst into fresh sobs. Both the tall healer and his small friend shared a concerned glance and rush to Okuyasu’s side; that only made him sob harder. When was the last time he had been comforted when he was crying? Keicho just used to smack him when he got too loud; at best, he would ignore Okuyasu and let him cry. But now, these two people were — and he had —

He faced the small boy (maybe man? He had boyish features, but some scratchy facial hair lead Okuyasu to think that maybe he wasn’t as young as originally thought), who looked alarmed at having a hulking, bawling, near-murderer give him any attention — and he started to apologize.

“I’m s-s-s-so sorry my brother almost killed you!! I should’ve stopped him, but I — I’m so stupid I couldn’t even tell him not to—!!” He lifted a hand off his brother’s chest and weakly reached out to the apprentice, who gracefully grasped it and tried to shush him, assuring him it was all right, he was fine now, and Josuke shouldn’t you do something about his bleeding?

Oku blinked, hiccuping as his tears slowed. “My name’s not Josuke, ‘m Oku?” He was, thankfully, observant enough to notice that the tall healer had moved to his other side, so he didn’t jump out of his skin when the other chuckled, shaking his head as he dug through a bag Okuyasu hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“My name is Josuke; that’s Koichi, my apprentice. And you’re… Oak-u, you said?” Okuyasu nodded, and as the two healers started discussing something with far bigger words than Okuyasu was used to, he suddenly found himself in a situation where he didn’t know what to do next. He had already apologized, the two— Josuke and Koichi, apparently— were fine, the bear was dead… and so was Keicho. He supposed he should bury him? He remembered, back when he and Keicho had lived with their old village, that there was some custom about…setting them on fire? He glanced around and, seeing all the trees around, firmly decided against it. Custom or not, he didn’t feel good about potentially setting the forest on fire.

He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder and turned, opening his mouth to ask what?, instead finding his lips occupied with another vial. Josuke’s fierce blue eyes brooked no argument and Okuyasu meekly drank the liquid. As before, he could feel an improvement as soon as he finished the draught, though not as intense as an arrow-wound healing completely. He was going to ask if Josuke was maybe a witch, or some other kind of magician, when the smallest among them spoke.

“Is it…dead?”

Oku saw Koichi glancing nervously at the bear, and gave a raspy chuckle. “Either it’s dead or playing the longest game of chicken I’ve ever seen,” he paused for a moment, before turning his head to face Josuke. “Oi, is… uh, do you know where I can bury my brother?”

The healer’s eyes then lit on the body under the water, Oku still cradling his head. His eyebrows jumped and he scrambled to his feet, once again reaching for his bag. Okuyasu waved him off, giving a mirthless laugh.

“No, no, don’t waste your supplies,” he traced his brother’s face lightly, brushing his eyelids more closed. “He’s been gone for a while.”

Oku sat up and began patting his body to check for wounds. Hmm, it felt like a rib or two was broken, and he didn’t like how his left ankle felt as he tested it, but aside from those all his other wounds didn’t feel too deep anymore. At least, not deep enough that he was lightheaded from blood loss. He got to his feet a little shakily, gently moving Keicho’s head to rest on the stream bed, and stuck his arm out to the taller healer, who was still crouched next to the bear and his brother. Josuke blinked his (really, amazingly blue) eyes in confusion, but just as Oku was beginning to feel like maybe he had overstepped and this healer might not want to touch the man who had been fighting him just a few minutes earlier, and his hand started to retract, the healer shot a hand out and grasped his.

Oku must have winced as he heaved the man upright, because suddenly the healer’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, starting the same patting routine Oku had just gone through himself. Okuyasu sucked in a breath as Josuke patted just a tad too fiercely on one of his (probably, definitely broken) ribs and the healer’s gaze shot up, scrutinizing him carefully. Oku gently brushed the hands away, giving a nervous little smile.

“I—I should get going. Got a brother to bury. And you guys should probably, uh, go back to your home.” he guestured to the bear. “You guys can have the bear? The fur’ll probably be nice to have, what with winter coming soon, and bear meat ain’t half bad if you cook it right…” Okuyasu trailed off in confusion, watching for a moment as Josuke’s hands continued to pat around his torso and arms. After a beat of silence, Josuke finally glanced up and met Oku’s eyes. The healer froze, then sheepishly drew back his hands.

“Sorry? Habit, I guess. Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” He guestured to Oku’s ribs.

Oku, in turn, shook his head and glanced away, sizing up the bear and its position pinning his brother below the water. He patted his ribs subconsciously, wondering how he would be able to move the behemoth if they really were broken. “No, thank you, I don’t think I should bother you any longer,” he shot a lopsided grin to Josuke, the scars on his face tightening and pulling with the movement, “you’ve already been nicer to me than I think anyone else I’ve ever met,”

The healer’s face did something, but the expression was gone before he could ask about it, and then he was talking again so Oku couldn’t be bothered to focus on a micro-expression.

“Can I at least get your name? Your full name?” Josuke asked.

Oku was too surprised to think of why that may be a bad idea, so instead he simply said “Okuyasu Nijimura,” and the healer nodded to himself, mouthing the name quietly, before he turned back and stuck out his hand.

“Josuke Higashikata, village healer, at your service.” Oku stuck his own hand out, starting to say that, as nice as Josuke had been and as wonderful as it was that he was offering his services, Oku really hoped they never met again because he had a bad taste in his mouth from attacking an innocent civilian and a healer, but he never finished his thought as Josuke yanked him within range as soon as their hands were clasped, and delivered a swift uppercut to his chin, effectively knocking him unconscious.

[probably-flowers-and-cats]

"I'm such a failu-u-ure," Nirei whines, looking at his exams papers, red marks scattered all over the sheets, which makes Nirei feel even smaller than he already is.

Sakura turns his head with loud crack and stares at him as if Nirei just said something inherently stupid and blatantly untrue. what a bullshit, hie eyes say. Nirei is, actually, more worried about Sakura's neck — it sounded like his friend just broke his spine and now is refusing to move because of the shock he's fallen into.

they stare at each other for quite some time.

Nirei is sort of curious what will happen next, watching how Sakura's expressions change from furious to calm to embarrassed to confused to lost, eventually freezing in some mixture of all of them. quite a grotesque image, to be honest.

Sakura sharply exhales.

"you," his voice is insanely heavy and firm, and Nirei straightens up in an instant, feeling his shoulders and back protesting against such an abrupt movement. "you are not."

"I am... not?" Nirei echoes. Sakura murmurs something under his breath, which is, well, cute, because he cannot find the right words and tries to juggle his vocabulary and his emotions.

"you're not a failure," Sakura eventually murmurs. "don't call yourself that. it's not true." he doesn't blush nor stutter, but Nirei feels himself melting like a butter under the scorching Sun. yet he chooses to try the fragile patience of his friend and push him further.

"but I barely got D on my papers," he says.

"these damn papers don't describe you!" Sakura claims, raising his voice. it draws Suo's attention to them, and Nirei gestures to stay as he is. "you're more than 'em."

okay, Nirei admits, there's still some space.

"how am I more than them? they will decide my future one day," he says, and it's true. it could decide his future one day, but he doesn't care about it so much, knowing that Makochi will offer them all a place to stay and work.

Sakura struggles to come up with an argument, lips pressed into thin line, and he groans, looking at his own exam papers. Cs mostly, which is an improvement from his first Fs.

"...it only means more time to think what you want to do in the future then," Sakura says. "how to use your great memory for good, what to do with your impressing skills at noticing details, sharp eyes, and caring nature."

Nirei sobs.

Sakura startles and starts talking nonsense just to calm him down, panicking, and Nirei cannot help it but laugh and look at Suo, who has his usual scheming smile. oh, Nirei is about to witness the performance of all times.

"Sakura-kun," Suo comes closer to them and hands Nirei a bottle of cold tea to help him with hiccups, "but what's about me? what's about my future in this case? doesn't it look grim to you?"

Nirei observes exam papers with solid Bs on every sheet. what is he scheming then? it's a good grade.

"what are you yappin' about?" Sakura squints, suspecting Suo as much as Nirei does at the moment, and Suo tilts his head, grinning. "with such grades you're destined to have a decent university ahead of you."

"but decent isn't good enough, don't you think?" oh, Nirei feels shiver down his spine: this conversation isn't just about grades. it's more, and Sakura knows it, too. it's about Suo's inner demons, torturing him at nights.

Nirei cannot even predict the possible answer Sakura should give to satisfy Suo and let him go of his thoughts, focused on flaws. it took a long time for them to help him to appreciate the taste of food, not thinking of his past and guilt, weighing him down.

"Suo," Sakura starts, "you're already more than enough to us. you're charming people with ease, you tease them as much, you can persuade anyone, and you- you—" Sakura murmurs something so precious that Nirei barely able to stop himself from squeaking and kicking. Suo, who didn't hear Sakura's words due to the distance, looks slightly lost.

"I didn't catch what you've said, Sakura-kun. could you, please repeat?" Suo asks, and Nirei is too close to clapping his hands and giggling like crazy.

Because Sakura jumps on his feet, points his finger on Suo, and literally yells loud enough for everyone in the whole class to notice them having The Conversation.

"you're beautiful, and patient, and caring, and you still think ill of yourself for some reason, and I'm so mad because of that, and you still have no idea how much you've impacted me and others in the class, and!.."

Sakura stops, staring at Suo.

"oh."

Suo's face is slightly pink.

Nirei flops on the floor and screams.

----

Later he writes down in his notebook that Sakura cannot stand his friends refusing to recognize and appreciate their worth. the idea to play games till the very night wasn't his best idea, but the outcome he received? better than he could ever expect.

[marzipanilla]

RAGE ! heh. yah.

To just veer off bc I have been rewatching this channels stuff lately - Batman stuff ! (x)

On to the rambles.

Yeah it just felt like every single character came out of the woodwork JUST to say 'wink wink nudge nudge we KNEW you two crazy kids would figure it out eventually!' and ?? why ??? why ?? why did you feel the need for their EXES specifically to give them the go ahead, to even shove them towards it even?? I just ?? surely they have other shit to talk about? Not to mention Rex and Eve's we are traumatized teens bonding was way more interesting then their very shitty romance!

I hate the fucking while I was dying I was thinking of you line too. Yes Mark. When you are panicking and freaked out, clearly that is when your mind is most clear. please. dear god. amid the ethics courses you should have been taking, a few ones about psychology and trauma response would also be good, yes?

lol Hannibal. Yeah. I agree. I love Mads' interview where he like Hannibal is the happiest man I have ever portrayed : ) and its like. he's right tho. That man IS having the time of his life and his falling in love, he is having a GREAT time. beautiful show. need to rewatch it soon.

I was talking to someone else and they compared the whole Eve and her parents situation to 'I wont be gay in the house but you can't stop me from being gay outside' and like. ugh. it really is tho. WHY are you still there. WHY are you so determined to make THESE people your family. You know you were (unknowingly adopted) they AREN'T your only option anymore. You aren't 12. You had TT ! (supposedly) You have NEW friends now!! Stop going back to these people!!

The UTTERLY SILENT (I do like the choice but it is also funny that all that happens is literally without a voice) and completely undiscussed by the main 'moral' force of the show maybe villains have REASONS for what they do opening ??? yeah it was great but it also feels so 'lol look at whats going on in the background! no one will ever realize how complex these situations can be!!' anyway here's Oliver being fucking stupid.

Like yeah, I loved the GoG breakdown/breakup in ep 3, as like a we all need to discuss autonomy and accountability and the messed up world we live and people are both right and wrong- but any of the personal-ness to it is ABSENT bc again.. we have rarely seen these people do anything. Stop calling them your family Samson! NONE of you know each other !! Also him calling out Rudy for playing the odds and then acting like he's all fond of him is wild. Amanda being so thrilled this 19 year old girl is marrying her boss is insane. AND Immortal just invited his own ass back, that shit is hilarious. You know that fucker would make anyone asking to come back jump through hoops.

I have played a bit with the idea of danger blind Debbie and it just.. it makes enough sense to me. Her response to terrible shit happening just being like 'well this is annoying : /' while everyone else is freaking out. I feel like Nolan would have been like ??? squishy human not afraid ??? and Debbie's response like ?? you think you're special bc you can kill me?? literally anything could kill me ! Why should I be afraid of you just bc you're fast and strong? A slow person with an air filled needle could get me !! and Nolan just having to be like : / Okay. I guess I see your point.

Look I find the over all narrative and some of the characters fascinating enough that I WANT to engage with and talk about this media, but honestly, I am such a hater and I don't even try not to be xD Invincible is my BUT YOU COULD BE GOOD IF YOU WERE GOOD fandom fr. 'star wars would be great if it wasn't star wars' is a thing I've seen half-jokingly get thrown around and for me its 'Invincible could be good if they weren't adhering it to the comic' lol

TBH I started a 'Cecil basically becomes Mark's parental figure' story that would take place in my Liar Liar/Man Who Played Wolf AU, but I ended up disliking it so I never really went back to salvage it. Maybe I just need to refocus and honestly just make it about Cecil : /

Honestly given a number of the dumb things the GDA gets up to I wonder how good they are at strategizing lol Like.. I really hoped they would leave out the 'we knew Nolan was lying FROM THE START!' thing, bc.. okay... he's a viltrumite. You have only just recently barely found anything that could hurt them... but... like... 20 years on the planet... and not only did you find nothing you didn't WARN anyone ? like ? where's the contingencies ??? Also I will never get over them not giving that astronaut a medical check up, just so he could go puke up more aliens into his sink. Sometimes I also think they deliberately prevent heroes from getting access to education bc the moment one of those fuckers learns how to strategize then you're ACTUALLY fucked, bc they really do make some dumb decisions in battles. constantly.

Yapping bug ! time for the yappings !!

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[iguessitsjustme]

Hey, quick questions. What's worse? Violating a dumb clause of a contract that you signed (when the clause should not exist in the first place) in a way that is not harming anyone and filling the world with love in the process or....being a fucking narc?

or

[strawberryscorp]

albus comes home after having a bad day and collapses into scorpius's arms

scorpius could be doing anything but he'd pause and play with albus's hair while letting him rant about his day

[im2tired4usernames]

Ugh I was excited for today until I found out I'd have to spend it with people that actively make me hate being alive hate the future and drain me off all energy physically mentally spiritually like a vampire I can't stand to be around her she is the definition of stupidity and even then that's generous as fuck this bitch has filled her brain with so much garbage I watch her brain cells die at alarming rates every single time she uses her vocal cords her giggles make me want to jam a sewing needle into my ear repeatedly so I can never have to hear it again its a friendly reminder that my parents decisions this time my dad's constantly makes me want to die

[bumpscosity]

my karate teacher from when i was a kid would sometimes come in half sick and justify it by claiming that you only really spread germs before you even know you're sick so it was fine

[the-casbah-way]

i found loads of pictures of my uncle i am going 2 cry