#Minific Ask

[onlyhereforangst]

chenford + 20 hehe #onlyhere5angst

20. things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

“Tim!”

It wasn’t the volume that gave her pause, no. Or even the person on the other end of the voice. It was the pleading yet resolute tone that Tim came out with. The thread of argument all but vanishing by the end of the short name.

The begrudging acceptance of whatever had been said right before was unnerving. Had her feet glued to the old linoleum and hand suspended midair, hovering over the handle of the slightly cracked office door.

“Don’t, Lopez.” It wasn’t angry or even combative. Tim sounded absolutely exhausted, truly sick and tired of whatever they’d been hotly debating. With that sigh she knew all too well, the one that seemed to reach his toes, sucking every molecule of oxygen from him, he continued, “You know better than most, that is career-limiting.”

Career-limiting.

They could only be-

The air seemed to disappear into a vacuum, her chest tightening as the words ‘career-limiting’ weaved their little letters around her ribs and twisted. Cold sweat pricked her upper lip while her palms were pressed against a burning stovetop.

Career-limiting.

“…she could always,” Angela was saying, even if Lucy’s ears were ringing louder than a cathedral at noon in the Italian countryside.

A tsk left his lips before Lucy could manage a breath, “she’s too low. It’s not just limiting, it’s career-suicide.”

There wasn’t a single coherent thought in her mind, and fuck if that wasn’t the goddamn problem with her. She never delivered under pressure. She choked. It’s a miracle she wasn’t dead given her profession.

Well, she swallowed a derisive chuckle, it’s not like she had the best track record there.

Her heart begged her to move, to get out now, get out before she heard more she clearly wasn’t meant to. But that’s just the rub, isn’t it? This was the truth. This is how Tim actually felt about it all. Not that bullshit, I could never be disappointed in you nonsense.

Of course he was disappointed in her. Who wasn’t in her life?

Trick question- no one.

“…she’s just telling herself she wants this, Angela.” While Lucy’s world had been imploding inches away, the grenade of conversation had maintained life, “She thinks it’s what she’s supposed to do. What people expect of her. What people will be proud of her for.”

Angela cut in, “and you don’t?”

Every nerve fiber hung on his next words, her skin itched to get out of that same skin.

“I-“ he’d started firm, “I-, I don’t know,” and ended almost feebly. That exhaustion sound had creeped back in, “All I know is, she needs someone that isn’t me...”

What the fuck did that mean??? Lucy visibly repulsed from the door. Boot squeaking just enough the voices inside the office paused.

Shit shit shit.

She backed away faster than she would’ve thought capable of her cement-laden legs mere minutes ago. Angela and Tim’s voices had resumed but with each passing step they became more and more muffled. Till she couldn’t tell if it was their tense whispers or her own inner monologue playing them on a loop.

Career-limiting.

Too low.

Career-suicide.

Supposed to do.

Isn’t me.

Suddenly 17th felt less like a setback and more like a sentence.

Sentenced to spend the rest of her life chasing the perception of perfect in the wrong race.

Someone that isn’t me.

Through the kaleidoscope of tears she managed a quick text, visiting a friend tonight- don’t wait up.

And the phone was powered off before someone that isn’t me could even consider replying.

[vaudeville-moggie]

ahem

magic au

AX

I was like, uh, why you looking at me like that-

A: fire, flames, or excessive heat

X: a flash of anger

Ah, yes. Let the Raph angst ensue.

- - - - - - minific under cut, tw warning may include uhm Anger, fire, canon-compliant swearing, Japanese (which may or may not be accurate) written in romanji, feelings, hurt and comfort. You've been warned. Proceed. ------

Shredder had pushed Leo back, and Raph caught her.

“Foolish turtles…” Oroku Saki stood up from his throne, his chromium armour making mechanical hissing noises, revealing mechanical wings and a sharp whip-like tail.

“Woah!”

“ew.”

“what the sewer cakes…?”

Mikey, Raph, and Leo all exclaimed at the same time.

“Cool!” Donnie grinned excitedly, earning a glare from his siblings. He held his bō with both hands and laughed sheepishly at them.

“I’ll get him!” Mikey exclaimed, throwing seeds at Shredder, his markings glowed orange as the plants grew rapidly, becoming thorny tendrils that wrapped around Shredder. He struggled against them, Mikey focused on holding him and yelled at Donnie, “Donnie, do your thing!”

“wha- My powers could level the whole block! Oh wait!” Don clicked his fingers and his markings glowed purple, “Super strength!” he yelled while running at Shredder.

“Wait—” Leo started, interrupted by Donnie's yelp as Shredder broke free of the plants and caught Donnie mid-air. they’re thrown back and Raph feels his blood boil as anger flashed in his eyes, glaring at Shredder and spinning his sais in his hands. He doesn't notice the fire building up in his hands until he jumps up and descends on Shredder, flames rolling out of his sais and roaring through half of the penthouse as Raph roared with equal furiosity. In the same moment the glass around the building shatters, boiling water bursting out of the indoor water tank. The water pools at their feet as the flames fade and Raph and Shredder stumble away from each other. The armour is remarkably unscathed, even from Raph’s sais.

“Oh come on!” Donnie exclaims, getting up from where he had fallen earlier.

“We need to get out of here,” Leo said, pulling on Raph’s shoulder, snapping Raph out of his stupor.

Raph followed his siblings home on autopilot, his mind replaying and replaying and replaying the moment fire surged from his hands. His hands. Fire. The rage he felt actualised.

He hadn't even felt it.

Back home Raph just stood in the old subway entrance, scratching his fishnet gloves subconsciously.

“What happened, my children?”

Raph barely heard Splinter or his siblings as they explained what had occurred. Splinter dismissed Leo, Mikey, and Donnie and they went to nurse their wounds. Raph watched them go to the kitchen, jumping when Splinter’s hand rested on his shoulder. Raph looked up at him.

“What is on your mind?” Splinter asked softly.

“It—” Raph choked up, “it's just my powers!” He looked at Splinter and gesticulated, his palms up.

“hm?” Splinter hummed, encouraging Raph to continue.

“It's just, so…destructive. I want to think it's cool, I know how cool it is, I-” Raph stopped abruptly as his voice broke and his eyes misted, “ugh, what's wrong with me?!” he made a disgusted look and looked up, trying not to cry.

“Nothing is wrong with you Raphael,” Splinter said, “you are scared. That's normal, and important.” Splinter kneels to Raph's level. “You are so brave, my child.”

Raph sobbed and Splinter pulled him into a hug, letting Raph cry over his shoulder.

“And it's important to cry. Crying actually releases endorphins—”

“Did Donnie tell you that?” Raph said, cracking a smile despite the tears running down his face.

“Hm,” Splinter grumbled, and after a moment they parted and Raph wiped tears off his face, looking embarrassed at the ground.

“Remember what I told you when you were scared of the bugs, when you were younger?”

“Kore wa… uh” Raph scratched his head.

“Nanimo—” Splinter started, joined by Raph a moment later, “imi shinai.”

“But this isn't bugs. Or monsters under the bed. It's…” Raph gestured vaguely.

Splinter nodded, stroking his beard a few times before replying, “fear is an important reminder Raphael, your mind knows you're in danger, and you must tell your mind: ‘yes, I am in danger, but I am in control.’”

Raph sighed and nodded, “hai, sensei.”

Splinter stood up and rested his hand on Raph’s head momentarily.

“Now, go talk to your siblings.”

“But—”

“They know more about this magic than I do. Talk to them.”

Raph looked towards the kitchen, hearing Mikey’s excited cries. Raph smiled and wiped his tears, moving towards them.

------

I wasn't going to include the last part with splinter but my brother said it was important. so you can blame him for that.

[wishing-stones]

Baggs Z: A taste of one's own medicine >:3c

Z. [Make up your own] A taste of one's own medicine >:3c

This was a challenge to figure out how to pull off but, well...

There's always a bigger fish, buddy.

He did not like the way that Nightmare was looking at him. That half-lidded, almost coy appraisal made his hackles raise, although he did his level best to ignore it and continue his work.

"I've been pondering how your magic works," Nightmare drew Baggs' attention back to himself the instant it forcibly left.

"I've no doubt you have," Baggs returned airily, focusing on his work rather than the uneasy feeling that his benefactor's attention presently inflicted.

"How does a human trait bond with monster magic in order to create an entirely new type? If we consider how perseverance affects the soul normally, it creates the ability to restrict movement to only a few avenues. With the holding ability of patience, to force damage unless one is completely still, it makes a certain amount of poetic sense. Restricted and forced to remain still or suffer the consequences."

He feigned disinterest, but Baggs was actively listening. He'd thought about this a number of times and come to the same conclusion Nightmare was approaching; the latent patience in his system attached to the foreign perseverence and crafted a new magic that utilized traits from both. The stillness of patience and the rigidity of perseverance literally swirled together to create his unique brand of magic. Since both traits affected the soul and its movement, it was little wonder it leeched into affecting the mind as well.

"Not to mention the almost Determination-level of focus it grants-- it's more than evident in the way that yours is more pink than purple. It dances a fine edge that I'm sure very few can escape."

"If you are getting at something, sir, it would behoove you to get to it rather than waste my time." There were rare occasions Baggs felt comfortable in pushing his boundaries with Nightmare. This was one of them. Nightmare was actively distracting the doctor from his work, and Baggs was already irritated and verging on overtired again. When Nightmare had initially shown up, he'd assumed it was to herd him to bed... but no. The Guardian of Negativity had simply stayed and watched. Baggs thought he might, perhaps, be watching his work for a while, until he saw how frequently Nightmare was watching him specifically.

"Oh my, we are getting cranky, aren't we?" Nightmare cooed in a voice thick with amusement, "I've a point, doctor, but it bears explanation."

Baggs leveled his best unimpressed, expectant stare at Nightmare, who only smiled serenely at his underling.

"And that explanation is...?" Baggs prompted, sitting down at his desk to transcribe his notes for the evening.

(He subtly checked the access records to make sure that no one had come snooping while he wasn't here and is relieved to see he has nothing to worry about today.)

"I believe I've broken down the specific way your magic resonates." Nightmare took up a seat near his desk, "As everyone's magic passes on their own unique wavelength, yours, likely by nature of perseverance, acclimates quickly to an individual's unique magical wavelength. It's how you can seize control-- you work instantly on the same individual wavelength... or more accurately, your magic attunes everyone else to yours. I have seen how you can command an entire room at once. Each soul in that room attunes to you."

Baggs paused and steepled his fingers.

"Those more in control of their magic and more attuned to their souls have more capability to resist that call." He hummed, "And the presence of Determination makes it easier to maintain one's own unique magical resonance. Interesting hypothesis."

"Indeed." Nightmare nodded sagely, smile still eerily composed, "And any good hypothesis should be tested to ensure its validity, wouldn't you agree?"

Baggs eyed him out of the corner of his socket.

"What are you getting at?" He said slowly, not entirely certain he liked the tone Nightmare took up.

"I've a very fine control over my magic, doctor Baggs." Nightmare stood, and Baggs shifted back minutely, "So much so that I can control the resonance of my soul consciously. It makes cloaking my presence to those who know it very easy. It is how my brother oft times does not know something it transpiring in another world until it is too late."

He was putting on theatrics. Baggs resisted the urge to roll his eyelights and elected not to comment. Best to let Nightmare get it out of his system.

"I've a theory that my control is even fine enough to force other souls onto the same resonance."

"Like my magic does, in theory."

"Yes, precisely."

Baggs screws up his mouth.

"You want to test this theory."

"I do."

There is a very heavy silence that follows, and Baggs finally breaks it after a moment with a callous snort and toss of his head.

"Go bother Killer with it."

"Oh, but doctor, where is the fun in that?"

Baggs did not like where this was going. He slowly pushed himself back from his desk to face Nightmare, scowling.

"No."

"What a pity, I'd assumed an academic like yourself would have welcomed the opportunity for hands-on research regarding your very unique ability, and to understand how it works better." Nightmare idly inspected his phalanges, "...Aside from the fact that I wasn't really asking."

Baggs was very suddenly no longer sitting in his chair-- he was struggling against tentacles, kicking his legs fruitlessly and squirming to no avail.

"Unhand me!" He barked, and Nightmare only chuckled.

"What ever is the matter, doctor? You trust me, do you not?"

He was beginning to rethink that stance.

"Besides, I would never do anything to hurt you. That much you can be completely assured of."

Baggs quick kicking his feet and frowned.

"Beyond all of that, it is high time that you cease your work for the evening."

He glanced sideways at his computer screen, squinting faintly at it. He'd saved... and if the computer just went to sleep it would require a password to get back into.

Something... something strange squirmed against his soul, and Baggs recoiled with a bark of indignation. He tried fruitlessly to get free again, but the more he struggled, the more it felt like something was trying to work its way in.

A heavy feeling settled on his shoulders, and he struggled against it, shaking his head fitfully.

It did nothing. The feeling of something working its way past his defenses, to the very innermost parts of his mind and soul was pervasive... But at the same time, strangely... not unwelcome?

Was this truly what it was like?

Struggling grew more and more difficult as his limbs began to respond more slowly. His head felt heavy, difficult to keep aloft, and when it tipped to the side, it was righted with a tentacle.

While Nightmare's eyelight didn't swirl and pulse like his own, it did seem very difficult to look away from. It held an unearthly, beguiling light that seemed to leak into the farthest reaches of his mind and quiet the relentless buzzing of his thoughts.

...It felt kind of nice to not think for a bit.

Nightmare chuckled softly. Baggs tried to return some witticism about his self-satisfaction, but nothing came but a weak, feeble moan that tailed higher at the end in almost a questioning manner.

"Hm. That hypothesis seems rather firmly proven correct." Nightmare observed airily, "And an interesting new utilization of my own magic. Really, I ought to thank you. Had we not met, I doubt that I would have thought to try this."

The words sunk heavily into Baggs' mind, followed by the feeling of both amusement and genuine gratitude. Nightmare might be having fun toying around with him, but he was, at the very least, truly thankful for the insight.

Still, it was getting harder and harder to keep his sockets open. This was not an unfamiliar feeling-- He was quite used to the sensation of Nightmare forcing his unruly magic into submission so that he could sleep. It was slightly different now, though. His magic did not try to retaliate. It complied easily-- almost as easily as Nightmare himself carried Baggs away from his lab and to his quarters.

He tried again to vocalize the faintest flicker of a thought, but it was snuffed out, and the words came out as a quiet, nonsensical mumble. The flash of unease that accompanied the realization that his acute mind was succumbing to numbness lasted only a moment before he was hushed-- hushed in the same way he so often hushed his own patients-- and then all was quiet.

"There, now. Nothing to fret yourself over." Nightmare's voice was a low, sweet lull, and Baggs finally lost the fight with his sockets, letting them fall closed with little resistance. The gentle sway of Nightmare's gait was pacifying as well, and he teetered on the edge of consciousness, only rousing slightly when he felt the softness of his mattress beneath him. He tried to stir out of it, but felt a tentacle smooth almost soothingly over the top of his skull.

"Sleep now, doctor. We will discuss this come the morrow."

[thebnha-auhoard]

I've got another idea! Or rather, recycling an old idea of mine. AU where Yoichi was a villain on All for One's side. However, he accidentally locked himself into the vault while cleaning it, and Second and Third mistook him for a prisoner.

It seemed like just a storage unity, but even not knowing about enginering of builds it still rang as a strange thing, to be locketed almost air tight, not even the ventilation being apparent in any way, and yet. Yoichi haven't suffocated to death like server rooms are supposed to do to you.

And yet, there was a one way deliver system of storage, mostly food reserves? Yoichi knew it shouldn't be here, and yet from the days alone it was a small blessing.

And most surprising of all, no one have yet to come and open this "vault" to search for anything, least of all him, co-operator of said facility and organization!

Attacking a stale bread isn't enough, Yoichi needed to punch someone and tear them apart with his claws, which should be still in his vacated room and yet no one has come-.

All for One may be precautious about giving him quirks, but they were usefull and his brother wasn't even using them right, but Yoichi senses are superior of a normal human, and the reserve quirk was very usefull in the bountifull of times of being chained to a bed he had to endure.

Anyway, it is so that Yoichi knows there are sounds behind the bank door, knows that finally someone has come looking for him!

It is unfortunate that two days before one of that times of chained bed rest has struck him down to the cold ground, and Yoichi would not confess that despair was turning in his gut, the old fear of a simple cold taking his life not being danmpened by being by his brother side.

So he turned slowly, imagining it is like a lion caughting interest in the new intrusion on his territory before mauling things to shreds, to the door.

He squinted his eyes at the new light after so long in cofortable darkness, hesitating on the planned leer at the incompetents that just now found him. Yoichi wasn't like All for One, wasn't one to wave at those that do work for them, he knows the tropes! They could not afford a coup, so he knew every "employee" that worked with them.

The two being haloed by the lights, even only seeing their sillhoutte, definetly did not work or belong there. Yoichi would know if anyone like that(pink? handsome? fierce eyed?) were there, and that made him freeze for a moment long.

Enough it seems for Yoichi to blink and the two be besides him now. Breathing out, he knew what some expressions meant, worry, resentment, but the glint and flint in their eyes? That was new, something like that felt like pity in his chest, and as a biter hisser child, that was his reaction to any of that.

It is unfortunate that this case of hissing sounded more like out of breath lung hissing even at his ears.

"Kudou-"

"We don't leave prisoners Bruce."

Prisoners?

Yoichi shoot his most withering glare at the two, but he couldn’t hold it for long as coughing racked through him.

When he could see again, there was a hand extended to him, and there Yoichi believed that he was in a fever dream, because there was no way he was blushing as this man pulled him to his feet.

Yoichi could rationalize this as much as he want about that all he was doing was extinguishing a threat to their empire before it evolved much more.

But there were weeks of cold floor without anyone even attempting to open this vault. Weeks of food reserve deliveries that didn't align with the rest of storage in this place, weeks even before this that Yoichi may had a fight with his brother, talking such foolish about "staying back" and "be safe" and whatnot...

Yoichi couldn't rationalize his gut twisting as light hit his eyes after weeks and apprehension climbing at the thought of encountering his own brother.

[verfound]

Ok.... for the micro story... flinders. Mostly because I had to look the word up.

...I don't think I read the list close enough bc the blue screen my brain just experienced 😂😂😂 me, too

Ladybug froze as her heel slipped and the cracking ice echoed around them. Behind her, Viperion tensed. His back pressed hard against hers, his eyes scanning the ground for any possible escape.

"You know," he said, his voice as tight as her grip on her...yoyo... "If her powers didn't suck so much, I'd say Flinders was a pretty funny name for an akuma. Is that even a real word? It sounds made up."

The cracks splintered ever-closer.

"Hardy-har," she bit, locking an arm around him as she readied her yoyo. "Hold on!"

[skyland2703]

Javelia attempts to babysit Baby Pacha. Chaos ensues.

This isn't the best, but maybe I'll rework it in the future~

Loud metal crunching noises followed a shriek, followed by glass breaking, followed by Amelia Jones's disgruntled grunt.

"THAT LAMP COST 200 BUCKS," Javi's high pitched voice followed across the room as he stood atop the highest piece of furniture in their living room, a victorian-looking settee that they'd purchased from OLX just a month ago, watching in pain as Amelia chased around a robot dinosaur across the room, toppling over anything and everything.

"Shut it, pricetag" she snapped back, and Javi huffed, crossing his arms indignantly, "I AM—"

"Javi," her voice teetered on the thin line between "I’m going to murder you if you say another word" and "nobody's ever going to find your body, if I do", and Javi did shut it, for good, this time, because he wasn't someone to mess with his girlfriend. So instead, he chose to just watch carefully as his girlfriend slithered around the room, silent, deadly, and trying to entrap baby pacha, who was wearing Aiyon's apron around her neck— grid knew where he got that from— and flying across the room at the speed of a zord, and had already eaten through all of their electronic appliances— zords ate metal— and while Javi was going to make sure Ollie buy them new of... everything, he was also fucking terrified.

"THAT COOKER WAS 130$" followed by more crunching noises.

"THAT REFRIGERATOR WAS 800 BUCKS AMELIA WE'RE GONNA DIE IN CREDIT CARD DEBT—" unrelated, he'd been shouting the prices of the various items baby pacha had eaten all through the night.

They were pet-sitting the little zord while Ollie and Aiyon, who had basically adopted her, were away on their honeymoon. It was quite something, and Javi had thought it'd be a piece of cake.

And it had been, until Ollie and Aiyon's flight landed in Hawaii. They'd called back to check in on how the Red and Black rangers had been doing, and Baby Pacha had heard their voices, and hone hyper. If Javi would ever analyse this moment for an autobiography, he'd have very gracefully written, "I just knew she missed them. No matter what anyone said, they were the only family she had left, and she was a child, it was excusable to miss them." BUT, then, Baby Pacha had eaten Javi's metal arm.

Solon could always make him a new metal arm, but that didn't stop Javi from being utterly frightened by the capacity of a zord to swallow him raw.

So yes, Javi stood, terrified, on top of the settee, a little bit out of baby pacha's reach, though if she'd wanted to reach him, all she needed to do was jump.

Amelia was relatively calm about the situation, though, by judging that little vein in her forehead that was throbbing like it was about to pop, she too, was about to lose it.

And this was their first night alone. And it was three AM.

He was a million percent sure that she'd probably be teleporting the baby zord to Hawaii the next chance she got.

If they— and their apartment— survived the night, that is.

[paceywittters]

Chenford + 18 please!

chenford + things you said when you were scared

"So I'm right," she won't meet his gaze even though he's trying to catch hers. She busies herself with folding and re-folding the blanket thrown over the bottom corner of her bed, the one he'd put on her side for the nights when she gets cold and needs an extra layer (which is all of them, really). Her fingers fumble the corner once, twice, again. "You seriously don't think I can do it."

She hates herself a little for it.

She hates herself a little for everything lately, if she's being honest. There's this feeling in the back of her throat she can't get rid of, a tickle that's causing her to say things she doesn't want to, that's goading her on to be the worst version of herself because she can't not. If she's going down, she's dragging everyone with her. Is that dramatic? Sure, but she's never claimed to be anything less.

She sees the twinge in Tim's eye and something in her stomach soars, surges, squeezes. She's got him.

This is stupid, her rational brain tells her. You're self-sabotaging. Tim loves you. He believes in you. Stop picking fights with him because you're–

Shut up, she tells her rational brain, which apparently is the only part that doesn't have an issue listening to direct orders.

"Lucy, we're not doing this." His teeth are grit and his neck is tense. She can tell he's actively trying to soften his face, not to look stern and defeated in the way she knows he would if he wasn't aware of what she was doing. She would hate herself for doing this to him, but she decides to hate him a little bit for not calling her out on it instead.

"Doing what?" Her tone is snappier than she intends it to be, but it works in her favor.

He sighs deliciously. "This. This. We're not having this fight that has no point – either you believe me or you don't."

Lucy rolls her eyes, chewing on the inside of her cheek as the silence floods between them.

Usually, the silence is comfortable. The silence is nice, even, while she folds her laundry and he reads through a file, pretending he's not struggling to see the text without the dollar store pair of cheaters she'd tucked away in his desk a few months back when she'd noticed how far away from his face he was holding his phone.

They don't talk and they don't have to, because she knows every tiny movement Tim's jaw will make while he reads gory details, because he knows every ClipTalk trick she'll use in order to fold a fitted sheet without asking for help. They don't need words to know what the other is thinking, what they'll do next, when they need each other.

Today, the silence is overwhelming. She ignores the piece of her that aches for him and swallows it down – partly because it doesn't matter, partly because she doesn't want it to.

She leaves the blanket in a lopsided lump on the edge of the bed and crosses her arms. "I'd believe you if you were believable," she offers, shrugging. "If you don't think I can do better a second time, you can just tell me. I'd rather know the truth than have you pretend to support me again."

Tim rolls his eyes. "You know what," he starts, but shuts his eyes, shaking his head. "I'm not giving you what you want here."

"Oh, I know," she huffs, a dry laugh escaping her throat. "Trust me."

Tim squints at her, then stands up, rolling his sleeves up slowly. She watches, tipping her head to the side. At least he looks nice. "Enjoying the show?"

"Immensely," she deadpans, then purses her lips and lets herself meet his eye. He's staring her down and she swallows hard. "What?"

"What are you getting from this," his voice is lower, softer. She rips her gaze away and shakes her head. "Lucy, come on – you don't get to use me as a punching bag because you're scared you're going to fuck up ag-," he stops himself, but the damage is done.

She shuts her eyes, turning on her heel and heading towards the bathroom. She's not upset, honestly – she's kind of relieved, revitalized, ready to rub it in his face. At least he's being honest, this time. At least he's not pretending he's not disappointed in her. "See?"

"That's not what I-," she shuts the bathroom door behind her, muffling the sound of him. He knocks on it softly. "Baby, come on."

"Do not," she nearly growls.

She hears the light thunk of his head leaning against the door and she takes a step away from it, bristling at the sound of him sighing out a slow breath. "You don't think you can do it. You don't, and you know that." She doesn't answer and he sighs again, this one louder. "Talk to me, would you?"

"Go home," her voice is on the tip of her tongue, surprising her when it comes out firm, strong, certain. She hadn't known she wanted him to go home. She's not actually sure she does.

"What?" He sounds genuinely confused. Lucy ignores the fact that part of her mind is racing around, searching for ways to keep him here and get him to convince the rest of her mind to leave her the fuck alone. "You want me to go?"

She doesn't give herself the chance to think about it. "Go," she says again, firm, "home, Tim."

He waits. She knows this game – he'll count to ten, then twenty, then thirty. If she doesn't tell him to stay by the time he reaches sixty, he'll leave her be. It's fucked up that she knows, she realizes. It's fucked up that there's a pattern to this at all.

She swallows, then glances over at her shower and taps her fingers against the door lightly. He taps back. He's got to be somewhere around 35, by now.

"Please go home," she repeats, and it sounds different. A little raw, a little real. "I just want to be by myself, okay?"

He's quiet. She huffs. "Are you going to answer if I call later?"

She surveys her thumb nail, then bites the loose skin on her cuticle gently. "Maybe," she mumbles.

"Are you going to snap at me again?"

"Probably."

"Wow," he sounds a little annoyed, but mostly bemused. "Honesty for once."

She groans, but he doesn't laugh. She hears the floor creak beneath his feet as he makes his way back into her bedroom, then through the kitchen, then out the front door. The lock turns and the hum of alone silence falls over her as she leans back against the door and shuts her eyes.

He didn't say goodbye. She files it away, another thing she can pick a fight over later if she needs to.

She ignores her rational brain, screaming for her to figure this out before she ruins the most important relationship in her life. She'll ruin it if she damn well wants to, thank you very much.

The alone silence, the silence she wanted, doesn't feel as good as she'd hoped.

[duckiemimi]

Hi Mimi hoping you’re doing good If you don’t mind me asking do you have any headcanons personal or not on gojo and geto or any characters in general?

AAA what a lovely question! thank u for asking me! though i will go out to say, i think a lot of my headcanons have interspersed into some of my analyses (and fics!) 😭 i can’t help it—they’re so dear to me, sometimes i forget where i start and where they end :’) i try my best to separate, though! some of my headcanons are serious, some are plausible, and some just make me laugh. i’ll make this into a little list then:

⟡ geto and gojo did NOT get along when they first met. it was during their first class—yaga had just asked a question about what it means to be a jujutsu sorcerer. geto, the then budding honor student, raised his hand and voiced his thoughts (something righteous, something justice-driven). gojo, who was silent and aloof the whole class, couldn’t help but comment. they fought in the classroom an hour into their first day. thank god the gojo clan has money because they obliterated half the building.

(interestingly enough, that show of power was taken into consideration when they got promoted to special grades a month later!)

⟡ shoko comes from a jujutsu clan. it’s not a prestigious one like the big three, but they’re still very respected, akin to the inumaki clan. their innate familial CT is RCT—it’s why shoko couldn’t explain it well to gojo that one time; it was just muscle memory to her, innate! the loneliness took some time to learn, though.

⟡ utahime and gakuganji are related and come from one clan. they specialize in ritualistic, supporting CTs (like in the manga!). utahime went to school in tokyo, but moved back to kyoto because her family lives there and because gakuganji was the principal in that branch. (nepo baby utahime? then again, that could be said for a lot of characters here.) mei mei is her upperclassman by three years.

⟡ when gojo was younger, his retainers (along with multiple bodyguards, hidden and in plain sight) would take him out to walk around the city. it’s why he doesn’t mind traveling far for his missions because while they pile up, he enjoys the time he spends exploring different places.

(it’s also why we saw him roaming the city alone in that one panel. maybe he was ten or twelve there? he’d sneak out during his homeschool lessons when it got boring. “tell me something i don’t know.”—a pre-pubescent gojo, probably.)

⟡ during these walks he used to go on as a child, his retainers would try to prevent him from lingering too long at one place because people talk. the people in town were all afraid and in awe of him; resentful, curious, scared. he looked different, he felt different, and every time he glanced in their direction, it would unnerve them to no end. a young gojo didn’t quite understand why at first. sometimes, they’d whisper the occasional cruel comment amongst themselves. gojo’s eyes are great, but that doesn’t mean he can’t hear.

whenever they’d reach the end of their walks, back at the gojo estate, his retainers would always crouch down and cup his face, darting their eyes around, wary that a clan member might see (even worse—his parents). they’d tell him that everything those people said were lies and weren’t true at all. they’d tell him that he’s a good child. it’s a core memory for gojo.

⟡ geto was in the judo club in middle school. it made him feel a little less lonely at home and it was an outlet for all his frustrations, for all the things he couldn’t say. he was more himself when he moved. then in jujutsu high, he took all the martial arts lessons very seriously because now he had reason to fight and train so hard; a purpose; a meaning. even ten years after defecting, his form and technique was still impeccably perfect.

⟡ geto was a social smoker, meanwhile shoko is a chronic one.

⟡ geto stopped smoking after he took in mimiko and nanako.

⟡ despite his busy, busy schedule, a freshly graduated gojo always made time to see how megumi and tsumiki were doing. he’d help them with their homework (tsumiki was always receptive; it took megumi some time to accept homework help), he’d shower them in souvenir sweets, and he’d walk megumi’s dogs with him. he tried his best! he still does!

⟡ contrary to popular opinion, gojo does sleep. or at least, he tries. it doesn’t really count as sleep if it’s all dream, though.

⟡ in the early days, geto tried to get mimiko and nanako to call him anything but master. after a year of them calling him that, it just stuck, and in geto’s head at the time, it fit his public image, so he just stopped trying.

⟡ mimiko and nanako enrolled in non-sorcerer schools. education is important, geto told them, but the sanitization they had to go through at home, after school, was tedious. geto would always ask them what they learned in class, making sure they weren’t empathizing with the non-sorcerers, reminding them that facts are facts and there is no meaning to them. sometimes, while mimiko and nanako wait for a cult-member to pick them up after school, they’d watch their classmates hug their parents at the gate. sometimes, they’d think of calling him papa.

⟡ geto had a crush on gojo in high school, halfway through their first year. gojo never thought about that (romance, relationships, and such) till his third year. they never acted on anything during the two years in between when they were constantly together.

⟡ whenever geto and gojo would meet during those ten years, it would always be out of gojo’s request, though he’d deny it if you asked. geto would always try to stay away (he’s burned the bridge, goddammit, he can’t keep risking the distance), but then he’d take one look at gojo and it would be hard to. he’d always regret it after.

⟡ the first time shoko and utahime drank together, it was a little after shoko’s graduation. drunk and delirious, shoko started talking about how lonely she was, and how frustrated she was because her two best friends are so fucking stupid. utahime helped her home and swore to never tell anybody about it. now they drink together pretty often.

these are the ones at the top of my head! maybe i’ll add on if i remember some more, but thanks again for asking!

[onlyhereforangst]

What ships are you open to writing if we send you a ship + a prompt?

ive written for ellick, jiara, rivusa & chenford before! most comfortable with those but idk open to trying to write other ships i post about :)

[unadulteratedkr]

🎵

OMG HIIIIIIIIII hello my beloved friend hi hi hi <3 <3 <3 okay so when I have people send me music note prompts, I like to lean into like songficcy vibes, and then I saw the sketch you sent on discord of Ed and stede where Ed has the braid and is laying on Stede’s chest and Stede’s got Ed’s hand in his and you said it was inspired by some  post princess Ed aftercare

And then inspiration hit me like a TON OF BRICKS because rhys-as-stede gives me SO many Danny Kaye in the Court Jester vibes, and there’s this LOVELY fucking lullaby from the Court Jester and it just fit the vibes of this sketch SO SO SO MUCH

(the lullaby in question):

I really love the image of Stede’s hand wrapped around Ed’s almost like he’s caressing Ed’s wrist which lead to me imagining they’re in bed together after Stede and Ed have done a full, dramatic absconding roleplay complete with ALL THE ROPES because she’s being a full-on brat and she needs her captain to tie her up to keep her from shying away from the pleasure she deserves kind of a thing (I’m thinking maybe Ed and Stede are at the inn, there’s a storm on the horizon, and they decide on letting Ed spend time as a princess to feel some power and also to feel safe to let that power go since storms are full of rough memories for him still), and afterwards Ed’s feeling all floaty after Stede’s let him be a haughty and feisty princess and stede keeps soothing Ed’s wrists from the nice little burn that Ed loves, and this lil scene happens:

-

Ed’s mind is a dreamy haze of safe, warm, home when he finally settles back into his body—the scene's been cleaned up, the ropes have been tidied away, and Ed is tucked under every blanket they’ve stolen from the merchant ships that keep using their beach for a proper careening. The clouds outside still hang heavy with unshed rain, a deep grey ushering in an early evening, but Ed’s heartbeat is steady and soft against his rib-cage, beating out a tempo that twines easily with the peace settling in him like ripples on a mill-pond. Ed closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and lets his body speak to him in tiptoeing waves.

Fuck, Ed fucking resonates with the love of being well-cared for. His wrists sting from the rope burn, but Stede’s already been there with aloe to soothe it away with a gentle cloth.  His face is clean and fresh from a compress Stede always prepares, ready to tend to the fever-hot burn of being a princess from Ed’s skin. The weight of his braid, cool with the fresh coconut oil Stede’s worked into the strands, is enough to pin him to the bed, and there’s only a momentary flicker of disappointment he missed the gentle burn of Stede’s hands in his hair. It’s easily dwarfed by the whine he can feel building in his lungs when he realizes he isn’t plastered against Stede’s warm chest, but before he can part his lips to let it free, Stede is there, sweet and golden like fucking always.

I’m here. You’re safe.

Ed curls in against Stede’s chest, letting out a murmur that sounds something like a laugh when Stede’s chest hair tickles his nose. Stede’s arm wraps around him, and he presses the gentlest of kisses to Ed’s temple, letting out a sigh that gets wrapped up in the wind starting to pick up around the secure walls of their inn. 

“Okay?”

“Mmm.”

Stede giggles, a sweet, wheezing thing that gets caught in the kiss he presses to Ed’s temple. 

“Mmm, indeed. You were so good, princess.”

A delicious shiver makes Ed’s hand on Stede’s chest start to shake, and he can sense more than see Stede shifting, capturing Ed’s hand in his, pressing it protectively to his chest.

“Ah, too much. That’s okay! I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

You’re safe.

Ed lets Stede take the shivers from him, lets his body surrender to the warmth and strength of his boyfriend’s beating heart against his fingertips, and he burrows closer, sighing. His heart might always be full of jagged edges, cracked open on a hidden reef in a shallow tide, but Ed’s never been less afraid of drowning, of feeling the cold hand of the ocean dragging him down to her fathomless depths. He doesn’t need to be afraid with the Gentleman Pirate at the helm navigating them both to a quiet harbor. 

As Ed inches closer and closer to sleep, he feels a gentle vibration against his cheek. Stede is humming, a tuneless lullaby that wanders through melodies with no destination. Ed smiles against Stede’s chest, letting the song Stede hums wash over him, soaking up every note and surrendering to the harmony of his heartbeat keeping time with Stede’s.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper, and he falls asleep to a kiss against his temple and Stede’s thumb pressed against his pulse point, wrapped in the finest thing he’s ever known.

Safety.

Warmth.

Home.

[buginateacup]

Megamind and Roxanne with a kiss for luck from the ask meme? 👉👈

…for luck.

...for luck...for luck...for luck...

The words repeat round and around in Megamind's head. With a groan he rolls over and stares at the ceiling, one hand still clutching the sensation of Roxanne's lips (bloodhot, slicksweet, strawberry balm for his soul) to his cheek.

What did it mean?

Oh sure he'd saved the day and everything. No thanks to the flying fleabrain who called himself a hero of the city bumbling around setting off Very Clearly Marked Not For This Plot Explosives and not even apologising for it afterwards! The gall of some people!

But that still didn't explain when he'd had to pull Miss Ritchi out of her chair to hastily hotwire the safety shield hidden in the back into an emergency field generator to stop literally everything from exploding. And instead of running for safety or screaming or any of other useful things she'd wriggled free of Minion's grip and come running back with the toolbox none of the brainbots were bringing quick enough and skid down next to him. Pressing a wrench into his hands and a kiss to his cheek.

"For luck!" She'd whispered before Minion carried her worried eyes away again and Megamind was left teeth bared, cheek burning, desperately trying to stop anything from going even more disastrously wrong.

Megamind sighs and rolls onto his side, his palm flat to his face, letting the weight of his head squeeze his hand between cheek and pillow like he can hold onto the sensation a little longer.

For luck...for luck...for luck...

[wishing-stones]

L or Y with Cross

I actually have two with L for Cross, so that's what I'll do!

L. A stolen kiss.

He tended to come and go, but you were used to that.

Sometimes he was alone, sometimes he was with his... friends? You weren't sure, but none of them really objected to you. Killer even kind of liked you.

Cross, though...

Cross was the only one who really paid attention to you. He stopped to talk to you. He listened to what you had to say. He shared his own stories. Sure, he was secretive, but... He seemed to make time for you from whatever business he was conducting.

He was sweet, really. You weren't sure how it was possible to have a crush on a skeleton, but here you are. You figured most of it is his personality, with another small fraction being his voice. (He really does have a lovely, handsome voice.)

As you came to find out, he blushed purple. He had blushed and avoided looking at you when he asked you if you'd like to get lunch together sometime. He'd blushed even harder when you had accepted eagerly.

And now, here the two of you were having a lunch date at a nice outdoor cafe.

You liked how easily you could talk to him. It never seemed awkward. He seemed to know what to say, he told interesting stories, listened to you when you told yours, and when he decided to be funny, he was actually pretty hilarious.

He had a wonderful sense of comedic timing, and his plays on words were top-notch.

You wound up spending much more than just the lunch date with him, wandering the city streets after he'd picked up the bill and just... talking. He was a monster, and still gained some interesting looks... but it didn't seem to bother him all that much. He said he was in the royal guard, so you figured that must be why. He was essentially monster military-- well-trained and composed.

You think he might have been someone pretty high up in the ranks.

You wind up walking to the park as you talk, and enjoy the balmy afternoon. Cross didn't seem quite as enamored of the surface world as other monsters did. He only stared wistfully at the sky every so often, relished in the fragrant spring breeze a handful of times.

He said he was part of a very elite group of similar monsters who did a lot of very dangerous missions for a mysterious boss. He refused to name who, although that didn't matter much to you. You'd met Killer, Dust, and Axe, anyway. You weren't sure you wanted to know who all of them worked for.

You got the distinct feeling they were all aptly named.

The two of you wound up walking and talking well into the early evening, and Cross had offered to walk you home. You'd suggested maybe getting something to take home, or to order something in, but he'd blushed that fetching purple blush in response and insisted that he had to get going once he saw you safely to your door.

A pity, but you would take what you got. You walked with him at an easy pace back to your house, and he seemed to take in all of the details of the neighborhood in a scrutinizing manner. When you asked, he told you he was memorizing the way to get here so he could find you if he needed to, or take you home again if there happened to be a time or place for him to do so.

He really was incredibly sweet.

He rubbed at the back of his skull as you stood outside your home, blushing again and kind of awkwardly wishing you a good night, and a hope to see you again soon.

You'd done so much and talked so much today, it just... did not feel right to let him leave quite like that.

So, boldened by the bond you knew was there and strengthening, you caught him by the furry ruff of his hood and pulled him down to steal a kiss.

If he really wanted to, he'd have prevented it. You'd caught enough of his face before you closed your eyes to see he absolutely realized what was going on.

Besides, you were sure of your decision when he curled a hand against the small of your back and returned it. Kissing a skeleton was strange, but... kind of exciting. You suspected that was magic tingling on your lips as he pressed his own kind of firm, bony lips to yours.

It at the very least felt like magic.

It was a soft kiss, but it lingered, and he only pulled back slightly to whisper your name.

You loved how that sounded. You wanted to hear it more.

But... he had to be going, and you respected that. You extracted from him a promise to come back soon so that you could cash in on that promise of dinner. He'd chuckled at it and agreed.

And then he'd bid you goodnight, but not before catching your hand, bowing at the waist, and kissing the back of it while looking up at you.

Your heart had skipped a beat.

And then he had been gone. The next second, he was no longer there, and you wondered if maybe you'd hallucinated it. The more likely explanation was that he'd used magic to make a getaway, and you left it at that to head on in and order some food for yourself.

You wound up falling asleep on the couch watching a movie after you had finished eating your dinner, you know you had...

...But in the morning, you woke in your bed. You were still clothed, but you were tucked neatly beneath your covers. You had been confused until you saw the note on your bedside table in purple handwriting.

Realized I forgot to leave my number with you. You were crashed out, so I figured I could probably put you in bed and you wouldn't mind too much. Text me when you get the chance. -C.

You texted him almost immediately, feeling like a giddy teenager all over again.

[breakfastteatime]

trick or treat! 🎃🍭

Jaro knows children have limited patience, that expecting them to spend extended amounts of time in meditation would be unfair. However, Cal struggles to go beyond a few minutes at a time. Jaro knows why of course; Cal possesses the energy of a thousand suns. Dragging him out of the Temple’s gymnastics hall requires negotiation feats Jaro did not know he could pull off.

[raccoonfallsharder]

My comfort recipe is a creamy fajita pasta (pasta is the comfiest of foods prove me wrong). Its basically chicken, bacon if you are so inclined, peppers, onions and garlic, fried off with lots of fajita seasoning. Then once its all done add in your cream/creme freiche and some cheese. Mix in your pasta and i swear its one of my favourite cozy meals!!

this sounds fuckin delicious. i am so delighted to read it && so delighted that you have this in your life. i feel like how does anyone go wrong with chicken & cheese & carbs? plus the seasoning and veggies & garlic??? this is a recipe that can heal broken hearts i can tell. pure kitchen witchery

thank you for sharing with us nonny ♡ i am hungry now & inspired.

(and thank you again for indulging me && responding to my query about comfort foods!!)

sidenote. i would like us to imagine, for a moment, that it’s gray and cold and rainy outside. you’ve just made a batch of creamy fajita pasta and have scooped some into two handmade ceramic bowls you picked up at a thrift store last year. you take both bowls into your living room, where rocket’s sitting on your couch, fur wet ‘cause he got stuck in the rain somewhere after some sort of fiasco, and you’d hauled him into your apartment. his teeth had been chattering. you’ve already offered him towels and now he’s bundled up in the comforter you took off your bed for him - scowling, probably. you hand him a bowl of pasta and sit down beside him, and say, be nice. this is my favorite comfort food. you’re welcome. he rolls his eyes at you & makes a face - but he accepts the bowl. sniffs it. his ears twitch and he takes a mouthful. his eyes widen and he glances up at you.

he doesn’t say anything at first, but you can see him relax into the couch like the warmth of the pasta and the spices have just curled through every limb in his body and brought him home. he takes another forkful. and another. you can see him snuggling further into the comforter with every bite. you start eating your own serving of pasta, pulling your legs up onto the couch and curling up next to him. you both eat and watch the rain, and everything is good.

(later he falls asleep to the sound of the quiet little storm, empty bowl in his hands && comforter still a cocoon around him. you’ll carefully take the dish and fork away and set them on the coffee table, and he’ll stir just enough to mumble thanks and let himself lean into you a little. welp, now you’re stuck on this couch forever. but it isn’t so bad.)

[jonathan-samuel-smith]

You talk about Dami like Yuri and this makes me think in Jon like those novels where the protagonist falls in love with the villain and finds out the villain is not a bloodthirsty demon with cold heart, just someone who needs to work with communication skill and no comun sense who also come from a fucked up family (I think I already read a Yuri novel with this plot)

Jon is just "I know I'm not the target audience for these types of stories, but these are so fun"

and Kathy: you want to feel validated in knowing that you're not the only one who can love a known demon who isn't that demonic, just very misunderstood and comes from a terrible family

Jon: ...

Kathy: you want validation to love Damian

Jon: ahahhaa i'm not in love with... omg I IN LOVE WITH DAMI!

"Kathy, what do I do?!" Jon yells, shooting upwards into the air. His hands find his way into his hair and his fingers get tangled in the curls. "What if he knows! His family is full of super smart detectives and I read that they can tell if you like someone!!"

Kathy gives him a dry look. "Jon. This is Damian we're talking about. He doesn't know a thing when it comes to emotional intelligence. He doesn't know."

"Oh, good, I was really worried there for a second." Jon says, touching down.

"Everyone else does, though. Well, except Bruce and your father."

Jon groans. "Aw, why me? There are so many other normal kids in the world and I'm--"

"Shut. Up. You weren't normal anyways. We're both aliens. And being gay isn't weird, it's natural, over 3,000 species on this planet practice homosexuality. Your aunt Kara once told me that bisexuality was the norm on krypton."

"Really?"

"No, I made that krypton bit up. But it could be true! You should ask her."

"Well I guess you're right either way. I'm never going to be normal. Might as well commit to it."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm gonna ask him out."

"No."

"What do you mean? You don't think he likes me?"

"That dunderhead is head over heels for you. But he can't see that because he's obsessed with bloodlines and shit. He won't see you as an option unless you show him you can offer babies, or convince him that he should adopt."

"But... I can't make babies with him... I don't have a uterus." Jon looks at her with big sad, wet cat eyes. "What do I do Kathy?" He pouts.

She breaks into a laugh "You're adorable! Okay I'll help. Let me call up my friend Maya."

"I know Maya you don't have to specify that she's your friend."

"But she's my best friend! Other than you... I guess... eheh... anyway, it makes me super happy to know we're friends so I wanna say it!" Kathy says while pulling up her contacts on her phone. She presses call. It rings a few times and is answered.

"Kathy? Are you okay? Usually you text me before you call!" Maya says through the phone.

"Sorry. I'm hanging out with Jon right now. Jon just realized he has a big crush on Damian." Kathy replies.

"Seriously?! Sweet! Hi Jon, how's the gay panic?"

"It's not so bad once you get used to it..." Jon replies.

"So, the reason I called;" Kathy breaks in. "Jon wants to date Damian but Damian wants biological children so we need to convince him that he can still have that and date Jon."

"Oh. I'm way ahead of you. I've got a plan all layed out."

"are we going to take a tour of an IVF facility?" Kathy asks.

"That's boring. No. We're taking him to the fortress of solitude." Maya responds.

"What's there?" Jon asks.

"Last time I visited your fortress I looked into any information on cloning, since y'know, Damian's a clone, I want to know if he's gonna glitch out or something. Your dad has a cloning machine. It's a kryptonian thing, Kelex built it in his free time. It can be used to combine the genes of different alien species to make babies. Apparently, Kryptonians used to meet a lot of other aliens, and they wanted a way to have children that wouldn't be sick and die young.

"Your dad didn't need it because humans are surprisingly compatible with a lot of alien species naturally. But here's the kicker! It can combine two male donors into a baby as well! I guess that's why they kept it after they went isolationist."

"See Jon! Being gay was normal on krypton!" Kathy says.

Jon smiles. "Wow. I have got to read more. That's amazing."

"So? Great plan, right? We sneak in, or your dad lets us in or whatever, and we show him the machine! Then all you have to do is be yourself and he'll have a gay awakening! Kathy, bring tissues. If he doesn't cry I will."

Later, Jon is at the dinner table with his parents. "Dad, can me and my friends use the fortress for a science project?"

"it's not like that time with dinosaur island, is it?"

"nope, I'm following the scientific method and everything."

"It's your superhero friends, right?"

"Yeah dad, c'mon I'm not gonna reveal our identities just to get a good grade."

"Just making sure. It's fine with me."

"Yes!" Jon hisses in excitement.

Damian arrives at the fortress of solitude from the batplane. He's bundled up in orange insulation. He looks adorable.

Damian notices that they're all looking at him weirdly but ignores it because he can't figure out why. "Nobody. You said you had something important to show me?"

Jon waves awkwardly.

"J." He acknowledges. "Beacon." He returns his attention to Maya, though he's bodily aware of where Jon is in the room, he always is when they're together.

"So after the fortress of attitude was built," Maya starts.

"stupid name..." Damian mutters.

"Kelex built this handy dandy birthing matrix." She speaks up, leading them to the machine. It's tall and complex, with two pods for a person to stand in, needles on robot arms to take the DNA sample, all connected to the central casing and an advanced terminal for calculating and adjusting genome sequences.

Damian steps closer to the machine, resting his hand against the artificial womb of the machine. "How does it work?" He says in awe.

"Looks... painful." Jon winces. Kathy elbows him. "But I guess birthing humans involves some pain anyway!" He hastily amends.

"Damian, the really interesting thing is, this isn't made just for kryptonians, or just for male and female pairs. It can create compatible gametes from DNA regardless of species or sex." Damian breaks his gaze away from the machine to look at her in surprise.

"...Huh. That's... Good. I need to sit down."

Damian sits on the floor in a meditation pose but doesn't start meditating. "I just realized I was banking all my hopes and dreams on having a kid. But I'm just a kid myself. I don't know what I would want in the future! I sure as hell don't want a kid now! But I was so sure that I needed to continue the bloodline I didn't even consider being with a man as an option!" Maya sits down on the floor with him.

"I heard about it, of course, but I didn't really think about it much. It's a cheap playground insult. Until it's not... until it's who you are." Damian continues. Jon sits next to Damian, and Kathy sits next to Maya, passing her tissues.

"I'm so proud of you, brother. It's hard to realize you're not what people expected you to be. You push it down until you just can't anymore." She takes his hand and holds it. "You're gonna be just fine. I love you."

Damian squeezes her hand and tries to ignore the salty tears dripping from his mask. "Maya... you're always there for me. Even when you do sneaky shit like this you do it to help me. I'm just embarrassed you had to help me at all, I thought I was past all that!"

"it's fine. Healing takes time. It'll come for us."

Jon grabs Damian's other hand and holds it. "Lean on me. I'll help you carry on." Jon sings briefly, encouraging Damian to lean against him, which he does. They sit in silence until they're emotionally ready to get up. Jon can tell him another day, right now Damian needs his best friend.

--- epilogue

Damian opens his locker and a stuffed envelop falls out. Curiously and cautiously he opens it, used to threats from Ra's. It's a typed note asking him to meet the sender in the courtyard after school. Damian stuffs the note back into his locker and continues on with his day, but when the day ends he decides to follow the note's direction.

When he gets there, Jon is waiting for him, his shoes freshly shined, holding a bouquet of a flower he mentioned he liked one time. "Jon? Did you write that letter?"

Jon smiles. "Yeah! I wanted to do something nice for you when I ask you out. I want it to be a nice moment."

Damian blushes. "Oh. Yeah?"

Jon smiles and steps closer. "Yeah. Damian, I like you, a lot. I thought maybe we could try dating? If you want."

"You like me?"

"Yeah. Have for a while."

"I didn't expect that." Jon's heart sank. "I've thought of this moment so many times and I never imagined that I'd feel so surprised." Jon regained hope.

"How did it go in your imagination?"

"Well, I intended to be the one sweeping you off your feet. You'd smile so bright and wrap me up in a hug, and I'd hug you back. Or you'd smile awkwardly and let me down gently. Even in my nightmares I can't imagine you saying all the things I'm afraid you'd say."

"I wouldn't hurt you. We vowed to protect eachother, remember? Sure you're cantankerous and crabby--"

"Hey!"

"but you're so much cooler than that alone implies. You're a good person, and I know that in my heart."

"If we're gonna date--"

"so it's 'if' now?"

"You have to be patient with me. I hate PDA and I'm not very accustomed to physical affection. I'm not going to suddenly climb in your lap or make out in the student lounge."

"I wouldn't expect you to, Dami. I just like you. I like being around you. Cuddling is great, too... but your comfort is more important. We'll take it slow."

"What if I never get used to it?"

"I'm not going to do something if you hate it that much."

"People have needs in relationships that I am not adequately prepared to provide."

"I don't care. I'm not going to leave you because you don't hold my hand. You show you care."

"I accept your proposal."

"I didn't say we should get married!"

"Nevermind. I can't date someone so stupid." Damian teased. "I meant your proposal that we should try dating."

"Yes!" Jon stomped his feet in excitement. "Can you take these flowers? My hand is getting sweaty from where I'm holding the plastic."

Damian took the bouquet. "I'm suprised you remembered these."

"I try to remember everything about you."

"My act of love is graciously forgetting your mistakes and spending time with you regardless."

Jon smiled. "Different strokes for different folks."

"Tt."

~end~