#WHY IS THE DOCTOR SO GODDAMN ANNOYING?? LIKE SO MUCH MORE ANNOYING THAN THE OTHERS

[fear-is-truth]

𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝔁 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 AU .ᐟ ─── sunshine!nurse! reader x nam-gyu ⟢

a/n : kind of a crossover. so instead of kim seo-wan, it’s post-squid game nam-gyu. y’all should watch daily dose of sunshine, i highly recommend that show.

nam-gyu was one of the lucky survivors of the game, but barely. the money didn’t fix him. didn’t make the fucking nightmares go away, didn’t stop his hands from shaking. the withdrawal is worse than ever, and he’s burning through his winnings fast. eventually, the game hosts step in—not out of kindness, because he’s a loose end. they check him into a facility, keep him monitored.

the first time he met you, he thought you were cute. not that he’d ever admit it. but it was annoying—how his brain registered it immediately and it stuck with him even after you walked away. he told himself it didn’t matter. you were just another face in a place he didn’t want to be. but later, when he caught himself looking forward to seeing you, he knew he was screwed.

he loves to test you. makes lewd comments, and generally acts like a jerk. but instead of getting angry, you’re always calm and kind, which confuses the hell out of him. it makes him want to do it more—you’re a challenge, and he’s trying to see how far he can push you before the sweet smile on your face breaks.

he’ll act out in little ways to push you away, just to see how far he can go. but you keep being kind, even when he’s doing everything he can to make you uncomfortable.

he doesn’t know how to respond to your kindness. most people would’ve gotten frustrated with him by now, but you’re just… there. patiently waiting, as if you’ve known him forever, as if you’re not afraid of what he’s capable of. sometimes, when he looks at you, he almost feels like he’s seeing you for the first time. you’re not just some nurse doing her job; you’re someone who actually cares.

nam-gyu doesn’t understand why you’re so nice to him. he suspects it’s some kind of mindfuck, to make him feel more messed up than he already does. he doesn’t get why you’d want to be around someone like him. and that warm smile of yours— that goddamn smile that makes him feel like maybe he doesn’t have to be a total asshole all the time. to you at least

when you’re doing your rounds, checking on other patients, nam-gyu sometimes gets jealous. he doesn’t want you to focus on anyone else. so he does things to distract you—asking unnecessary questions, pretending he needs something when he really doesn’t, or making sarcastic comments. he wants you all to himself.

when he’s going through withdrawal or PTSD flaring up, his hands shake uncontrollably, and the cocky, obnoxious version of him disappears. you sit next to him and gently take his hand in yours, not for any other reason than to offer comfort. you’re the one he wants around, even if he’d rather die than admit it.

he gets embarrassed by how good you are to him. when you bring his favourite snacks, when you remember some offhand comment he made, how you always treat him like a friend instead of just another patient—it unsettles him. (in a good way)

he’s not a good person. not by any stretch of the word. but when some doctor disrespects you, when another patient crosses a line, it’s like something inside him snaps. and suddenly, it doesn’t matter how much trouble he gets in. because if there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s this: you don’t deserve to be treated like that.

at some point, without meaning to, he starts falling for you.

[anotherpapercut]

I know several people who like LOVE seasons 5-7 (11th doctors run) and think the storylines and moffats writing are brilliant and I don't get it!!! what am I missing??? why does literally every single episode have the exact same stakes: Rory/Amy/the doctor is dead. forever. so dead. but wait!!! what if they aren't!!! why do so many of the explanations for why they're not actually dead feel so rushed like they were added at the last minute!! why does every single queer character act kind of weird and awkward about being queer!! why does the doctor casually say that women are inferior when no one's around!!! what the fuck!! hello!!!

[httpiastri]

jack doohan x female reader, ft one lowkey 18+ joke

"don't you trust me?"

the question burns through jack's chest. the playful smile on your lips tells him that it's all just for fun, but still, there's something stinging about it. he wants to answer with an 'of course', or a 'with my entire life and heart', but he settles for something to match the tone of your voice. "do i have a choice?"

your answer comes in the form of a groan and an eye-roll, settling on the edge of the tub. "just lean back, loverboy."

loverboy. of course. how can he not follow your orders when you talk to him like that?

jack leans back against the wall of the bathtub, tipping his head back to rest his neck against the edge. it's much more uncomfortable than he'd thought, he soon realizes, but he hopes what's about to come is worth the pain.

your best friend has been sick for over a week now, with an annoying fever that seemingly just doesn't want to go down no matter what he tries. when you followed him to the doctors, they said everything looked alright and that he should be getting back to normal in just a few days. you're beginning to believe that that was complete bullshit, though.

you're pretty sure you're wishing for jack's fever to disappear as much as he is himself. not only do you not enjoy seeing him in such a bad state, but he also becomes such a baby when he's sick, as you've recently learned. it's not all that easy to take care of a tall australian manbaby, but someone needs to do it, you suppose. and who better than you?

the other day when you stopped by his apartment to refill his fridge with some necessities and cook him some soup, you just couldn't stop yourself from insulting the greasy hair he was sporting. he answered that he's not got enough energy to wash it properly when he showers, and in a moment of weakness, you found yourself offering to do it for him. so, here you are, showerhead in one hand as the other begins to slowly turn on the water.

you wait for the water to reach a good temperature, not icy but cold enough to hopefully soothe his burning scalp, before shifting to pour the water over his forehead and down over his hair. jack's first reaction is to let out a low hum, eyes fluttering closed at the chillness in comparison to his hot skin.

"you really are an angel, did you know that?" his accent has always had a certain effect on you, though you've always tried to deny it, and your heart skips a beat as he speaks again. "truly someone sent from above."

"shush," you say, shaking your head as you lean over to turn the water off, his hair being completely soaked by now. "just doing another part of my best friend duties."

"just as best-friendly as cooking for me for a week, and tucking me in for my naps, and..." he doesn't need to go on; you know how long the list is.

you reach for his bottle of shampoo – thankfully not a 3-in-1 type with body scrub and car wash included, but still a type that scares you a little – and pour some onto your hands, rubbing them together to spread out the liquid. "i'm just doing what i know you would do for me if i were in your position."

jack's eyes open when you start going through his hair, fingertips working their way across his scalp as you try to reach every inch of hair. he watches you with a thoughtful gaze, studying the concentration on your face intently. suddenly, he's reminded of why he's so goddamn smitten with you in the first place.

you're a total opposite of him – you're so soft. small, too. not just in size, but in personality as well. everything about you is warm and gentle; a huge contrast to his hard, rugged edges.

there's a feeling in his chest again. a tightening, fluttering sensation that feels strangely pleasant. one he's very familiar with by now, one that only appears around you.

it never takes much for your cheeks to grow red around him, and today is no exception. you think you've lasted a long time, though, with the way he's goggling up at you, but it's getting too much. "shut your eyes," you tell him. "you know i can't take it when you stare at me. i can't do my job."

he doesn't answer, and your heart flutters again. your fingers stop moving in his hair.

"i'm going to get shampoo in your eyes, they're going to sting."

"i don't mind."

it isn't until you tug on his hair, enough to go from relaxing to painful (though jack instead finds it quite arousing), that he finally obliges, eyes falling closed and a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "much better."

you begin to wash out the shampoo, and other than the sound of the water now dripping from his hair and onto the floor of the tub again, the room fills up with a hollow silence. he wants to speak up, but can't find any words – which are the right ones when the girl you like takes so much time out of her days to take care of you when you're at your lowest?

jack feels almost strangely... loved. the way that you're doing all of this for him, just because you want to make sure he feels good and clean. in reality, it's such a small gesture, yet it means something.

and a hint of anxiety settles into his chest at the realization that he's actually falling for you.

it's not just the silly little crush that's been brewing inside him for the last twelve months; it's something much more. and much scarier.

"are you kidding me? do you not have any conditioner?" your voice breaks his train of thought and he peeks at you with one eye, still slightly afraid of that whole shampoo-in-his-eyes threat. a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth when he sees the expression on your face, mouth slightly agape and eyebrows raised in pure shock.

"i guess you'll have to go shopping with me to buy a bottle, then."

anything to have a reason to spend more time with you.

[socra-time]

Naruto Episode Comments, Ep. 41-50

Ep 41:

-puppetry has gotta be one of my favorite ninja techniques so far ngl

-also Kankuro gives me bitchy theater kid vibes ngl. We stan

-again, Sakura has a far more compelling relationship with Ino than she does with fuckass Sasuke

-…goddamnit do I ship Sakura and Ino

-the way Gai says Kakashi’s name is so funny to me, he’s like “kaKAshi”

Ep 42:

-I think it’s funny that Lee just drifted over to hang out with Kakashi and Naruto

-ngl Ino losing her hold on Sakura was COMPLETE bullshit, Ino absolutely should have won that match

-ngl I’m really annoyed by the results of this match

-but anyways Gai and Lee cheering for Tenten was wholesome. Team Gai supremacy

Ep 43:

-okay Temari’s voice isn’t as bad as I initially thought it was

-rip Tenten, I get that they have to set up the threat of the Sand Siblings but Tenten deserved a little more of a fair fight rather than just being fodder for Temari to take down

-but also holy shit Temari’s takedown was fucking brutal

-Lee I fucking love you

-I also kinda love Ino now

-Naruto istg you better not beat up Kiba’s dog

Ep 44:

-not the first time I’ve noticed them but I like Kiba’s fangs

-I don’t really like Kiba’s voice

-if I was Naruto I would have forfeited the match immediately, I’m not gonna fucking fight a puppy

-ah yes the greatest jutsu of all, Furry jutsu

-Naruto kinda wasted his shot by biting Kiba while disguised as Akamaru, he should have tried to do more damage and punch Kiba in the face or something

-I love how everyone was commenting on how Naruto’s jutsu usage was more impressive than they thought and meanwhile Neji’s just like “I can’t believe he bit his opponent”

-why isn’t everyone just taking food pills during this exam if they’re so useful

-Kiba honey I hate to break it to you but you are not, in fact, the main character of Naruto

-respectfully both Naruto and Kiba should never be Hokage, it should OBVIOUSLY be Lee

Ep 45:

-NOOOO AKAMARU BBY

-I’m not gonna lie I don’t really believe Naruto has the chakra control and intelligence at this point in the series to pull off the trick he does with the double transformation jutsu

-I find it both amusing and annoying that Kiba (and also Shikamaru and Choji) calls Naruto “kid”. Like y’all are the same age lmao

- yeah no same as Ino, Kiba kindaaaa should have won. I’m more okay with this outcome than the Ino-Sakura result because Naruto’s the MC so he’s obviously going to win, but that fart was utter bullshit

-also I get that Kiba probably would have wrecked the clones with his human drill shit but why didn’t Naruto just try spamming shadow clones from the beginning

Ep 46:

-Team 8’s dynamic intrigues me. I want to see more of them

-why was ANYONE surprised that Hinata and Neji are related. Like were their eyes not a dead fucking giveaway???

-Kurenai is so mother

-anyways fuck Hinata’s dad

-between this match and the Sakura-Ino match, why did no one tell Naruto to not interrupt the matches

-okay so this confirms that Team 8 is the Konoha team that I would LEAST want to fight, purely because my options are (a) getting my chakra devoured by a swarm of bugs, (b) getting mauled by the human equivalent of Drill Run, or (c) suffering organ failure. Yeah no I’d rather get punched or stabbed by the other teams, thank you very much

Ep 47:

-with his level of precision and the Byakugan, Neji should quit the whole ninja thing and go be a doctor

-oh Naruto you sweet oblivious child

-I am absolutely not sold on Naruto and Hinata as a ship yet btw

-ngl if I was the proctor I would have yelled at Naruto to shut up and stop interrupting the matches

-Lee and Gai continue to be the best duo in this entire fucking show

Ep 48:

-I’ve heard that Gaara vs Lee is amazing, so I’m going in with high expectations

-Gaara is so fucking small next to his siblings

-Lee is so goddamn cute. I love my son

-you know you’re terrifying when SHINO is afraid of you

-Lee is so happy that he gets to go apeshit lmao

-the moment when the leg weights drop was amazing

-also it’s the first time we see Gaara look surprised and off-guard, which really hammers home just how insane Lee is

-I’ve seen it before but the effect of Gaara’s face cracking is so cool

-also it’s funny that Kankuro has fully just joined the Konoha peanut gallery for this match

Ep 49:

-welp Gaara’s gone completely off the rails

-Lee is officially my favorite character rn and it’s not even close

-if Lee can only do taijutsu, how did he pass the academy test and become a genin? I mean maybe it was a Naruto type of situation where other shit happened, but he wouldn’t have been able to pass the test normally, right?

-Leeeeee my silly badass son I love you so much. Peak character of all time

-again, the way Gai says “kaKAshi” cracks me up

-so like is Gai not gonna get in trouble with the ninja government for teaching Lee forbidden jutsus? Like Lee is very blatantly using the Primary Lotus and Hidden Lotus in a government-run exam and it’s pretty obvious who would have taught him those

Ep 50:

-holy shit Lee is fully just going Super Saiyan

-even Neji is shook by Lee lmao

-NOOOO LEE

-Gai stepping in and the background music and noises cutting out was such a good moment

-Gai is legit Lee’s dad and I’m so here for it

-Lee has Naruto solidly beaten for the title of “most tenacious motherfucker in the show”

-that moment with Gai hugging Lee’s unconscious body was so good, my heartttttt 😭

-the medic telling Gai that Lee will never fight again would be much more heartbreaking if I didn’t know that he’s literally fine later on

-the strings instrumental that plays after Lee’s defeat is so good

[brewstersbru]

Another bkdk after the leaks so,,, SPOILERS 🧨🥦 boys need to talk

Part of Katsuki wishes he’d stayed dead. At least, then, he wouldn’t have to watch Izuku struggle through losing a quirk he had worked so goddamn hard to master. That still had so much potential.

And, well, he’s a little tired. He’d done something good. Helpful. Kept Shigaraki’s attention away from the others for a bit. Bought some time.

He did what he could, and it wasn’t enough, and he’d made his peace with that. Dying for Izuku was infinitely easier than living like this. Weak, and injured, and liable to cry at any moment, or stray word.

Izuku needs Katsuki to be strong, and Katsuki is failing him.

There are embers. There’s a spark, a possibility, but Izuku isn’t letting himself hope. Katsuki wishes he would, that he’d stop looking so goddamned sad all the time. His eyes were meant to shine.

The hope is heavy, and it hurts a little, but Katsuki has done much worse for Izuku. To Izuku. So he holds it for him, until he’s ready to pick it up himself. He asks about the embers often, little nudges to remind him that it’s not over, yet. Not if he doesn’t let it be.

Izuku tolerates it, the first few times, but he gets snappy after a while, defensive. Katsuki recognizes himself in it, and wonders when they’d started acting so much like each other. But he keeps on because Izuku had never given up on him, not through years of his terrible attitude. He can do this, at least. At the bare fucking minimum.

His arm heals, slowly, but it still hurts when it rains; his chest, too. No one lets him participate in clean-up or relief efforts until he gets an OK from the doctor. Izuku drifts into himself, pulling back from the class, talking less. Katsuki can only watch as he isolates himself, prepares to leave because he can only believe in a sure thing, not measly embers. Katsuki gets it. Getting his hopes up for nothing would break him. But it seems like he’s already breaking, anyway.

Katsuki has quieted, too, but for medical reasons. Although, after the initial shock, he’s found he likes how his classmates treat him for it. They’re tactful, don’t try to rile him. The anger is still there, but it simmers, and most of it is for himself. Whys and what-ifs, internal beratements for not being man enough to actually talk to Izuku, when the other boy had given so much of himself to make Katsuki good. When he’d saved the fucking world.

Part of him is annoyed at Izuku’s refusal to want something for himself, too busy jumping around to help with relief efforts, clinging to the vestiges of a world he’s already counted himself out of. Makes him grind his teeth at night, ‘til his jaw’s sore.

Everything comes to a head—not on the battlefield, not standing opposite one another in a dying city—in the kitchen. Katsuki wanders in, thinking of the ingredients on his shelf, what he could make from them in bulk enough to feed the leeches, and finds Izuku staring up at a jar just slightly out of reach.

Before Katsuki can speak up, offer to grab it for him while dodging accusations of pity—God, is this what he was like?—Izuku bends his knees, once, twice, and jumps. In a fluid set of movements, the jar is snatched off the shelf and he lands, cat-like, on his feet.

Fa Jin. That had looked exactly like Fa Jin, and Katsuki swears there was something green and crackling around his ankles. He almost wants to laugh- how does Izuku not see it? Instead, he asks, “That was the embers, wasn’t it?”

Izuku startles, but nothing more than a slight flinch of his shoulders acknowledges Katsuki’s presence.

“I told you to stop with that.” He says, voice low. Katsuki shrugs and steps further into the room, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Just telling it like I see it. That looked like Fa Jin.”

Izuku snarls and whirls on him.

“Do you like rubbing it in? Fuck, Bakugo, I thought we were past this.”

‘Bakugo’ hurts. Stings and aches somewhere shallow, close to the surface. But he deserves it. Deserves more than that, really, so he takes it on the chin and lets it roll through him. Katsuki averts his eyes.

“I’m not trying to rub anything in, Izuku. Just wish you’d stop taking this shit lying down. There’s a chance. What happened to the Izuku who only needed that much? Who’d reach out and dig his nails into any scrap of a something?” His voice cracks halfway through. Izuku smiles, but there’s no joy in the expression.

“I don’t know what you want from me. ‘That Izuku’ went to war. He couldn’t save anyone. Maybe he’s realizing he’s not cut out for this.”

Katsuki sneers.

“Cut the shit. You’re scared, I get it, but don’t you ever tell me you don’t want to be a hero. Don’t fucking lie.”

“They’re embers! Just embers!” Izuku laughs, a little hysterically. “I can’t be a hero with a dying quirk.”

He’s tugging at his hair, curling in on himself in a way Katsuki hasn’t seen in years. He hates the look of it on him. Wishes he wasn’t the one making him do it, again. It’s necessary, he tells himself, he needs to hear this. Doesn’t make doing it feel any better.

“Embers become flames if you fan them, if you coax them back. You can still be a hero, you just need to start believing that. Stop stifling yourself!” Katsuki takes a deep, watery breath, stepping forward and clutching at his chest, as if that will push the emotions bubbling up back inside. Stupid tear-ducts, it’s like they’re on a hair-trigger these days. At least with Izuku.

“Stop giving up!” He gasps, gritting his teeth to try and stop himself from crying. It’s pointless, trickles of warmth carve their way down his cheeks, thin and slow.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, swiping at his eyes and turning his head. Izuku needs to focus on himself right now, not another pathetic mess of tears.

“Kac-Katsuki.” Izuku stumbles, shell-shocked by the sudden shift. This is exactly what Katsuki didn’t want.

“Fuck off.” He says. “Just- just think about it.”

And without even attempting to check his shelf or start preparing dinner—it can wait an hour or two, until he’s calmed down, until Izuku’s left—he turns to leave the room. They’re not getting anywhere. He’s said what he needs to say and it’s up to Izuku whether or not he’ll listen. As much as he fucking hates it, he can’t do more than that. He’s never been good with words, anyway.

 Just as he makes it to the doorway, something tugs on his wrist. Too thin to be fingers, more like a rope, but not nearly coarse enough for that, either. It’s familiar, very familiar, but he- that can’t be right. He stops in his tracks.

“Kacchan.” Izuku’s breathless voice sounds from behind him, all previous frustration gone from it. Katsuki furrows his brows and turns his head, slightly, enough to see behind him from the corner of his eye.

Izuku is standing a few feet away, hand outstretched towards him. A thin, black ribbon protrudes from his palm, extending to where it’s wrapped tight around Katsuki’s wrist. Blackwhip. It’s the first true sign that Izuku’s quirk is not all lost. They both stare at the line connecting them, but Katsuki’s gaze quickly wanders. He already knew Izuku was capable of this. He looks into the other boy’s eyes, searching for that spark, and he is not disappointed.

A tiny, glinting shine has come back to his irises, highlighting the green ever so slightly into a bright, clear happiness.

“What’d I tell you, nerd.” Katsuki says, just the slightest bit fond. He presses his fingers to the tendril still curled around his wrist. Izuku’s gaze snaps up to him and he grins. Before Katsuki can ask what the look on his face is about, Izuku thrusts his other hand forward and another tendril unfurls, drifting towards Katsuki and wrapping around his waist.  

Izuku then pulls both hands toward himself, hurtling Katsuki towards him at speeds the blond hasn’t felt in far too long. He can’t help the smile creeping onto his lips.

“Thank you.” Izuku whispers, wrapping Katsuki in his arms as soon as he’s in range. Katsuki has to scoff.

“I didn’t do anything.”  

Izuku just squeezes tighter. “I couldn’t do this without you. I don’t know what I’d do if- if I ever had to.”

Now that’s just not at all what they were talking about. Something hot and wriggling awakens in Katsuki’s stomach.

“Fuck off.” Then, taking courage from the fact that he doesn’t have to look in Izuku’s eyes as he says this, “And- I- you did save me. Way before I. Y’know.” It’s choppy, near incomprehensible, but Izuku understands. Before he died.

Something warm and wet drips onto Katsuki’s shoulder. Fucking finally. The crybaby needs it. It’s not platitudes, and Izuku knows better than to accuse Katsuki of something like that. Katsuki only says exactly what he means. And it seemed like Izuku needed to hear it.

Can’t go around thinking every goddamn thing is his fault when it isn’t.

Finally, after a few minutes of unsettlingly quiet crying, Izuku speaks.

“Still. You died because of me. I can’t forget that. It’s the second time you’ve put your life on the line for my sake and I can’t- I don’t think I could handle a third.”

His voice is slow, careful around the words as if he’s thought through them a million times. Katsuki sighs, closing his eyes.

“I’d do it again. Will do it again, if I need to. I’m not going to apologize for that, and I’m not going to promise not to.”

Izuku pulls away, brows furrowed as he steps back to look at Katsuki.

“You can’t just throw your life away-“

“It’s not throwing it away if I’m stepping in for a purpose, shithead.”

Still, Izuku shakes his head.

“It is! I don’t care what you’ve told yourself to justify it, I don’t want you to do that anymore. It scares me.”

Emotions keep bobbing up and down in Katsuki’s chest, like buoys in a storm. He scratches at his elbow, unable to meet Izuku’s eyes. They weren’t here to talk about him. They should be celebrating Izuku’s breakthrough, not wasting time with this.

“Izuku, I told you- it’s fine. It’s my life. I choose what I do with it.”

“But that’s just it, it’s my life, too, shouldn’t I get a say in what happens?”

Katsuki grinds his teeth against each other. Now that he’s not shrouded in gloom, Izuku’s back to being just as stubborn and insufferable as ever.

“That’s not the same. Idiot. You’re going to be the next ‘symbol of peace’ or whatever. Fuckton of potential.”

Izuku tilts his head. “What, and you don’t have potential?”

Katsuki looks away.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re joking. Kacchan-“

“I’m injured. It’ll only get worse with time, Izuku. And my quirk can only do so much. Shigaraki was able to kill me because I wasn’t strong enough. If I keep going like this, I won’t be able to get much stronger before I bite it. Might as well use what I’ve got to do something. Make up for the bullshit. I had a lot of time to think, after our talk in the hospital. I’ve made my peace with a life like that. I think it’s a worthwhile goal, keeping you alive.”

Izuku isn’t speaking, but a new wave of tears has started streaming down his face as he shakes his head, frantically. See, this is what Katsuki was trying to avoid. He only looks like that because Katsuki had opened his big fat mouth and ruined the moment. Fuck. He cringes at himself and is gearing up to switch the conversation to something less catastrophic when Izuku speaks.

“Shut up.” He says, voice ragged. “God, shut up. What happened to being the strongest?” When Katsuki doesn’t answer, he continues, nearly snarling. “You want to make up for your shit? Stay alive, then, asshole. Fuck.” He scrubs at his cheeks, muttering to himself. “Right after I fucking told you I couldn’t live without you?”

Katsuki doesn’t think he’s seen Izuku curse like this, well, ever. Maybe he’s rubbing off on him? All he can do is stare, dumbstruck, trying to parse through the words. It’s not like- he isn’t trying to die, it’s just that if it came down to it, and it was his life or Izuku’s, the choice would be easy, he’d make it in an instant.  

Katsuki scrubs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Alright, let’s drop this-“

But Izuku isn’t having it. “Promise me.”

“I’ll- fucking- do my best.” Is all Katsuki can manage. Izuku watches him for another minute, dubious, before accepting that’s the best he’s going to get.

With a disbelieving laugh, Katsuki straightens, digging the heel of his palms into his eyes.

“Shit. We weren’t supposed to get into all this at once. Just wanted you to get your spine back.”

There’s a warmth against the back of his neck as Izuku pulls him in for another hug. He can’t find it in himself to protest. It’s just the two of them, and he kind of likes it.  

“Thank you, Kacchan.”

The thanks curdles in Katsuki’s gut, unearned and unwanted.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m enlisting you to help with dinner, now. Since you’re already here.”

Izuku laughs and it feels like fireworks against Katsuki’s ear. He’s missed that sound.

[stray-tickles]

Cat's Out Of The Bag

a.n. So I've gotten really into wolf 359!! And to think I started listening to it as something light before bed, lol. Anyway here is a fic <3 I love my dysfunctional dumbass space crew.

Isabel Lovelace had a mischievous streak. She always had, although it had become dormant. Something about losing her entire crew and being lost in space in cryo-sleep didn’t put her much in the mood for fun and games.

She’d warmed to this crew though, except for Selberg. Minkowski was tough and straightforward in a satisfying way, Eiffel was a genuinely good guy with a dorky sense of humour, and even Hera’s sarcastic streak had grown on her. They were a good crew.

All that to say, she’d bonded with them a bit, and that along with the relative safety of the Hephaestus had her old playfulness returning. And she knew exactly who to prank first.

“Hey, Hera?”

The AI’s voice crackled to life. “Yes Captain?”

“I’m uh- I’m gonna sneak up on Eiffel, as a joke. Can you not warn him?”

She might have imagined it, but she could swear that Hera rolled her eyes. “Sure thing, Captain.”

“Thanks!”

“Good luck.” Hera said, amused.

The door opened silently when she approached Communications, and Lovelace could hear that Eiffel was in the middle of one of his usual broadcasts to his beloved listeners. It couldn’t be more perfect if she’d planned it this way.

She took a deep breath and pushed off the corridor wall, effortlessly floating into the room and right behind Eiffel.

“And that, dear listeners, is why nachos are the greatest of all foods. In other news, the weather report for tomorrow is sunny with a chance of-AAAHANOLEMMIEGO!”

Lovelace pulled back in shock when her quick grab at Eiffel’s sides earned her a loud shriek and a jolt like she’d given him an electric shock.

Eiffel curled up into a ball in his chair, staring at his unexpected attacker with wide eyes, his arms glued to his sides.

“Jeez, what the hell did I do?” Lovelace asked with an incredulous laugh. “I was just trying to scare you a bit. You okay man?”

“Yep!” Eiffel said, almost an octave too high. He didn’t move. “Totally fine!”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You’d better not be hurt or something. I hate doctor’s visits as much as you do but you can’t just leave that stuff.”

“What? No, not injured, definitely nothing wrong here, no sir.”

Lovelace rolled her eyes. “Eiffel, the second I touched you you screamed like a…” A wicked smirk spread across her face. “Wait.”

Despite her request, Eiffel did not wait. Instead, he frantically unbuckled himself from the chair, fumbling to escape.

He didn’t make it more than a couple of feet before Lovelace pounced, both hands clamping onto the fleshy parts of his sides and vibrating furiously, earning a second shriek followed by a fit of high-pitched laughter.

She grinned. “Oh, this is too good.”

Eiffel wriggled like a fish on a line, trying to shake her off to no avail. “No, it’s not!” He squealed, snorting loudly when one hand clawed at his stomach. “Fuck! Stahahap you psycho!”

“Well, that’s a bit rude.” She teased, fingertips plucking at his ribs and earning more and more high-pitched squeaks between helpless giggles. “And here I thought we were friends.”

Eiffel batted at her hands weakly, cackling and smiling so wide it almost hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. He felt like he just might melt.

He kind of felt like he’d needed this.

Lovelace couldn’t help but chuckle along, taking in Eiffel’s massive grin and wild laughter. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.” Her hands slid up under his arms. “You’re so goddamn annoying.”

“FUCK!” Eiffel screeched, her blunt nails scratching away under his arms doing a good job wearing away at his sanity. “PLEAHAHAHA- PLEASE!”

She lightened her touch so that he didn’t actually die. “Oh, learned some manners I see.”

Eiffel kicked his legs, now back to giggling wildly. “I hahahate you!” He whined, snorting and ineffectively slapping at her.

“Aww, cute.”

“Shut up!”

She laughed. “Give up?” He was getting pretty red in the face.

Eiffel nodded weakly and hiccupped in between giddy giggles, squeaking when Lovelace reached to ruffle his head. “Dork.” She said affectionately. “Hope you learned your lesson.”

He still felt tingly and warm, and like he wouldn’t stop smiling for a while. “Yep! Note to self, Captain Lovelace is a cold-hearted killer.”

“Damn right.” She smirked, floating over to the door and wiggling her fingers a bit more than was necessary for a wave goodbye.

Eiffel stayed curled up in a ball, floating in the middle of the room and hugging himself, grinning like crazy.

“Um, Officer Eiffel?”

Oh. He’d forgotten that Hera definitely saw all of that. “Hey Hera.” He said, trying to come off as casual and not embarrassed out of his mind.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” She sounded genuinely concerned. “You were, um, screaming for a bit there.”

Heat rushed to his face. “Heh, just the nature of tickle fights, what can I say.”

Now she was amused. “There didn’t seem to be much fighting.”

“Look, just cos it’s very one-sided doesn’t mean it’s not a fight!”

“At a certain point I think it just becomes one person attacking another.”

Eiffel wasn’t sure if it was possible to curl up into a smaller ball, but he gave it a try anyway. “Fine, it was an attack then!”

“A tickle attack.”

He squeaked.

“Does that word bother you?” How, how could he know that Hera was smiling when she didn’t even have a face?

“Stoooop.”

Hera laughed. “Okay fine, you’ve suffered enough for now.”

For now. It sent a chill up his spine that wasn’t entirely dread.

Hera hesitated, a little nervous. “Can I ask… what it feels like? Tickling?”

Eiffel managed to uncurl a little and was proud that he didn’t twitch at her use of the word. “Huh?”

“I have a basic understanding of most sensations; pain, hunger, fatigue, but to be honest this has always confused me.”

“Yeah,” Eiffel laughed. “Well, it doesn’t exactly make sense.”

“I was pretty alarmed there for a moment. Begging for mercy and laughing don’t usually go together.”

He blushed. “Heraaaa.”

Hera snickered. “Well, I’m getting that it makes one more easily embarrassed than usual.”

“I’m legitimately mad I can’t throw something at you right now.”

“You can certainly try!”

“Why are you being so mean?” Eiffel whined, burying his face in his hands.

“Because it’s nice to see you smiling.” She supplied affectionately.

The words sent a shot of warmth through him, and his smile grew wider.

“So?”

Eiffel felt his face get hot. “It’s… I dunno, it’s a lot? Like you overload, so you can’t stop from laughing and trying to get away.”

Hera hummed. System overloads were pretty horrible, in her experience. “Anything else?”

“Uhh…” He tried to think of the best way to communicate the feeling to someone with no body. “It’s like static? Like, if static was a feeling instead of a sound.”

“That sounds like a lot.”

“It is, I mean, it can be.”

“And not very pleasant.”

“I-” Crap was she really gonna make him say it? “Sometimes, but if it’s someone you’re close with it’s like, bonding, I dunno.” He hesitated then mumbled, so quietly he hoped she wouldn’t hear, “It’s nice.”

“That is one of the primary theories on why humans are ticklish.”

“Wha- really?”

“Mm-hm! Familial bonding.”

“Ha. What a weird thing to evolve.”

“You do all still grow appendixes.” Hera paused. “So… tickling is being overwhelmed with static sensation, and can be a form of bonding.”

Eiffel smiled to himself. “Yeah, I think that’s more or less it.”

“And you like it.”

“Shut up!”

Someone had apparently turned up Hera’s smugness levels today. “I’ll tell Captain Lovelace you said that.”

“NO-” Eiffel’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god she’s gonna tell Minkowski. Hera, Lovelace is going to tell her. Oh god I’m so screwed!”

--

Eiffel spent the rest of the day on edge. He didn’t see any of the other humans, and Hera had the mercy not to tease him any more than she already had, but he was all too aware of the storm brewing out of sight. He’d had years of bugging Minkowski with no comeuppance and now the cat was out of the bag. And he was a dead man walking.

He kind of wished the thought didn’t make him so damn smiley.

It was- it was fun, the laughing and play fighting, and it wasn’t something Eiffel had had in… a really long time. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d needed that until today, and now his surprisingly sly Commander who just happened to also be a top contender for best friend was next in line for some playful revenge, and the thought of it made him feel… kind of giddy.

“Evening, Eiffel.”

The voice made him almost jump out of his skin. “Commander!” He whipped around, hands raised defensively, only to find Minkowski giving him a bemused look.

She raised an eyebrow. “You okay there?”

“Uh huh, yeah totally, never better!” He swallowed. “How are you? Haven’t seen you around today.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been too crazy today, I’ve just been running diagnostics for the most part.” The shadow of a smirk touched her face. “Spent some time with Lovelace, so I wasn’t too bored.”

“Oh?” Eiffel’s voice rose to a squeak. “What’d- um, what’d you guys talk about?”

The smirk grew bigger, but Minkowski remained innocent-sounding. “Nothing important.”

His voice had still not returned to its usual register. “Okay, that’s nice!”

“Have you eaten?” She stepped closer, and Eiffel’s eyes widened. “I know you’ve been busy.”

Minkowski struggled to keep a somewhat straight face. Her Communications Officer looked like a deer in headlights. This was too good.

“Yep! I-I mean no- no, I uh, I was gonna go now and… get some food! Gotta get some of that delicious protein, yep!” He span to the door, making to leave.

The hand that grabbed his shoulder make him scream a little bit. He turned his head to find Minkowski grinning at him. “Maybe I’ll join you.” She said innocently. “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind! Why would I mind? That would be crazy, everything’s fine, yeah let’s just go and get something to eat!” Eiffel did his best not to seem like he was running away, but he wasn’t sure if it worked.

Minkowski allowed herself a quick laugh at his expense. This was the perfect revenge.

--

Minkowski managed to keep Eiffel on edge for a few days. Every time she got too close, he’d freeze up, and if she managed to touch him, he’d all but jump out of his skin. It was fun. And funny.

The fourth day of her torment, however, was different. “Hey Eiffel.” She said, knocking on the comms wall as she entered. She was expecting a jump or a squawk or for him to freeze up, but Eiffel sighed instead.

“Hey Commander.” He muttered, not turning away from his work.

Hmm. “You okay?”

“Huh?”

She crossed the room and put a hand on his shoulder, noting that he didn’t flinch. “Are you okay?”

Eiffel looked up at her and seemed to register her presence for the first time. “Yeah, I’m… I’m fine.”

Minkowski raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “Medical check-up day, that’s all.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” He ran his hands over his face and groaned. “Sometimes I think handcuffs are overrated, you know?”

That alarmed her enough to spin his chair around to face her. “He didn’t do anything?”

Eiffel had the gall to look confused. “What? Oh, no, nothing like that, just the usual Hilbert bullshit.” He gritted his teeth. “I know I’m wasting time waiting for an apology, but…”

Minkowski felt some of her tension ease. “Doesn’t mean you don’t deserve one.”

“Yeah.”

She bit the inside of her lip, considering. She’d spent a lot of time with Eiffel. For a long time it had been just the two of them, before they’d gotten Hera up and running again. “Do you want to go watch a movie?” She asked, as non-awkwardly as possible.

The truth of the matter was that there was exactly one movie on board the Hephaestus, and it wasn’t one either of them were very fond of. It was, however, an excuse to sit on a cramped couch together, and if every single time they would up snuggling then…

Well, it worked out for the most part. Physical contact was scarce in space.

“Yeah.” Eiffel rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

--

She would never tell Eiffel, but the first time they’d squashed together on the tiny, too hard couch to watch goddamn Home Alone 2, Minkowski had been so overwhelmed that she’d had to fight not to cry. It was so easy to neglect the side of her that sometimes just wanted a hug, and after two years of not being on decent terms with either of her two human crewmates… it had hit her harder than expected.

Douglas Eiffel awkwardly cuddling up to her had almost brought her to tears. If nothing else, it had been a lesson.

So, it really wasn’t an imposition to have him leaning his head on her shoulder and pretending to watch Home Alone 2.

He snuggled a little closer and Minkowski raised an eyebrow. “Want me to move over?”

“Nah.” Eiffel said. “I’m good.”

“Good.” She rested her head against his with a smile.

Eiffel felt himself relax as the not great movie carried on. It was nice to be close to someone. To have a friend around. “I’m just saying, forgetting Kevin once is a mistake, doing it twice is deliberate.”

A hand squeezed his side sharply, making him yelp and jump. “Sshh.” Minkowski chided, not moving her hand. “I’m trying to watch.”

Eiffel froze, barely daring to breathe. She was doing this now? Why? And, more importantly, how did he feel about that?

Oh, who was he kidding?

“Still don’t know why they wouldn’t send us up with Star Wars.”

Blunt nails scratched gently at his stomach, immediately sending Eiffel tumbling into a fit of giggles, throwing his arms up over his face.

Minkowski grinned. Cute. “I’ve told you before, putting media that has exploding space stations on board a space station wouldn’t be good for crew morale.”

Eiffel struggled to speak between giggles, twitching. “It’s Star Wars!”

“Mm-hm.”

He whined, squeezing his eyes shut and snorting when she started poking gently at his ribs. This was so mean, she wasn’t even tickling enough to have him laughing properly, and he couldn’t squirm away without winding up on the floor.

“What’s wrong with you? I’m not even doing anything.”

He kicked his feet against the couch, if only to do something. “Yes you are!”

“Oh?” Another hand joined, poking at his stomach while the other continued at his ribs and yielding a series of increasingly embarrassing snorts. “Then what am I doing?”

Oh, fuck you. “Hehe-Hera! Help!”

His distress call got a laugh from both of them. “No offense, but how do you expect that to work?” Minkowski teased.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love if I could come and help the Commander out.” Hera said with a laugh.

His face was on fire. “Shuhut up!” He squealed, sinking into the couch, burying his face in Minkowski’s shoulder and weakly slapping at her hands. “Not what I meheheant!”

“Sure, I believe you.” Hera said, and Eiffel just knew she’d wink if she had eyes.

“You guys suck!”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.” Minkowski teased, one hand tickling around his ears and making him scrunch his neck up like a turtle.

Eiffel could feel his bones and brain getting melty, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep from squirming off the couch for much longer. “Commander plehehease!”

“Oh fine.” She withdrew her hands with one last poke, grinning affectionately. “Since you asked nicely.” He collapsed against her, still shaking with giggles. “Feel better?”

Eiffel heaved in a much-needed breath and wrapped his arms around her middle, squeezing tightly. “Shut up.”

Minkowski’s smile widened, and she returned the hug. “I don’t think you’re allowed to give me orders.”

He snorted. “Sorry, the chain of command ends where this couch begins.”

“You writing your own DSSPPM?”

“Damn right. Number one, chain of command is bullshit like ninety percent of the time.”

She rolled her eyes and wiggled a finger into his side. “Number two, tickle attacks are very effective for both discipline and morale.”

Eiffel jumped at the poke, then grinned wickedly. “Number three, revenge is sweet.”

“Don’t you d-” She cut herself off by clamping both hands over her mouth to keep the laughter in as Eiffel’s fingers wriggled up and down her ribcage.

“Oh?” He said delightedly. “You too?”

He had just caught sight of the smile hiding behind her hands when he suddenly found himself pushed onto his back, shoulders and head hanging off the couch entirely. Minkowski smirked down at him. “Four,” She said slyly, “Don’t start a fight you can’t win.”

Eiffel squealed before she’d even touched him, immediately caving into laughter at the sight of wiggly fingers. “Okay, okay!” He shrieked. “I’m sorry!”

Minkowski snickered but let him up. “I didn’t even do anything.”

A flush claimed his face. “I have an active imagination.” An imagination which told him he was never gonna live this down. Still, it was good to know that she shared his little weakness. “Back to the movie?”

They both looked back to the screen and laughed. It was over. Eiffel rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess we should go get some sleep, then?” He made no move to get up.

“Probably.” Minkowski agreed, also staying on the couch.

“Cool.”

There was a long pause, both refusing to look at the other or move.

“Y’know actually I think I’ll just stay here.”

“I’m not that tired, so-”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

Eiffel huffed a laugh. “Cool.” He muttered, not needing any further permission to curl up and rest his head on her shoulder.

“Goodnight.”

“Night, Commander.”

“Cuuuute!”

“Shut up, Hera!”

[ladyloveandjustice]

i really wish people on that "does it like women" blog would only vote on polls for media they're actually familiar with instead of just basing their opinions on what others are saying in the notes... like if you haven't watched/played/read something isn't that what the see results button is for? personally i only ever vote on a poll i know nothing about if it's like "who's the best video cat: fluffy from jrpg #1 vs skrunkly from jrpg #2" and my mutual is strongly campaigning for skrunkly on my dash, because i figure that's just a silly fun thing. and even some of the does it like women polls for media i am familiar with i end up not voting in because i feel too conflicted about it. the soul eater poll is a good example actually, i want to say yes because imo maka is an awesome protagonist who's pretty unique for the genre she's in but like you said in your tags, there are also a lot of reasons to vote no! and this is coming from someone who loves soul eater and has both watched the anime and read the manga!

Yeah...it's weird to me. I don't see why that gives anyone more of a high to click yes or no rather than the see results button, like yeah it feels good to vote on this type of thing, but only when I have an informed opinion that comes from my own heart. And if you really want to vote, that seems like a good opportunity to uh, just check out whatever the media is. Even watching or reading for fifteen minutes will give some kind of impression that's better than just vibes or someone else saying something. It'll still probably be inaccurate in a lot of cases, but at least it'll be based off something.

I am fortunate in that I've watched and read a lot of stuff though, and I did instinctively click yes on like, Billy and Mandy based soley off the vague childhood memory that Mandy was straight up evil and I support women's wrongs, but there was actually probably a bunch of shit in that show I don't remember, so it's not like i can say I'm ALWAYS fully informed. And sometimes I use tags to refresh my memory. "I can't remember what this did bad...okay from the tags I now remember" I am by no means a purist, I just think the point of the poll is opinions from people who actually interacted with the media or at the very least know so much about it against your will through internet osmosis that you might as well have watched ten episodes (me and Supernatural) (I have seen plenty of clips along with fastidious episode summaries and story breakdowns and so many goddamn tumblr posts so that counts for me. I'll be damned if I don't have a right to an opinion after living through the indundation of 2013 tumblr. I didn't vote on Doctor Who though despite basically the same, that seemed like more of a tossup for whatever generation it was and I didn't feel even the massive amount of knowledge i've somehow accrued was enough to make a blanket assessment).

Anyway, even if it's not that serious, it's an earnest question that you're supposed to put actual thought into, and that's why I enjoy it so much.

I don't want to get too annoyed with it, just like I try not to with the results. At the end of the day it's the internet and just a difference in approach that I won't ever understand.

I like Soul Eater too, don't get me wrong! I have fond memories. The manga definitely fell off for me at the end (and I skipped over a lot of the early chapters because I'd seen the anime, knew it had cut out quite a few pantyshots, and I wasn't dealing with those), I actually prefer the anime original ending, despite how basic it was (especially in Crona's case god why did the manga never give them a break). Just nice to see my girl win the day by punching someone really hard.

But I enjoyed it and I still adore Maka. There's still no enough action shonen out there that have a female main character for it not to be kinda special. But god. imagine a world where it cared about its female supporting cast's development more than boobs. or storytelling more than boobs, in a lot of cases.

[goreadyourheartout]

REVIEW OF CINDER BY MARISSA MEYER

⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️/5

I’ve been aware of The Lunar Chronicles for ages now. I don’t think you could be on booktube back in 2016 and not see it being recommended. I’ve always found the concept interesting but had never picked it up. Well finally I’ve done it and I was not disappointed! This is such a fun book and twist on the classic Cinderella story. Robot Cinderella? Yeahhh that’s iconic. I totally get why this series got so much hype at the time of its release. Kai and Cinder are a fantastic duo/ couple. Absolutely obsessed with their slow burn that’s not really a slow burn. Like we are fully aware they like each other, but they never actually get together, you know evil queens and war and plagues are a bit more important to focus on. The doctor man absolutely annoyed the shit out of me. Here’s to hoping his character improves in the next book (doubtful). Peony my beloved <3 sobbed when she died. Goddamn I’m such a sucker for an older sibling younger sibling duo and tragedy. Now some of the plot points are so predictable it’s painful, but that’s expected in YA books. Overall I adored this story. Did it blow my socks off? No. But it was fun and had great world building and was so different than things I’ve been reading recently, so it worked for me. Super stoked to start the next in the series!!

QUICK THOUGHTS!!

Loved how at least one step sister was actually nice… I get bored with the usual mean step sister and mother vibes

Kai is so slay and sassy, what a icon

Kai’s stupid disguise reminded me of like the avengers movie disguises… like so bad, but it made me giggle to it gets a pass

Hey Cider not being allowed to buy parts for herself… literally wtf

The step mother was like so insane for no fucking reason, like girl get therapy please I beg

THE BALLLLLLLLL god that was fantastic

[saltlickmp3]

43 + 53 for both 🙂‍↕️

HI TIA ! yay yippe thank youuuuuu

for mihangel

43 - What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

mihangel was brought up lower middle class in wales in the 80s & even though he had a fairly comfortable life when still living with her family he gets annoyed when someone suggests she get a good proper job (not creative freelancing) or not spend her entire paycheck on camera film & gig tickets & then have to eat beans on toast & two minute noodles for two weeks. like in his head she's still trying to beat the being poor allegations & even when she does understand that getting a proper job would be useful she thinks 'well theres other people who need it more than me because im not really that poor, i could get a better job if i wanted to but i dont'.

53 - Who would / do they believe without question?

her older brother, maddoc. she would probably believe anything that he told her & to be fair maddoc probably wouldnt lie to mihangel unless it was really important. when she was younger he would sometimes have a sort of resentment towards maddoc for being a Perfect Young Man in all the ways mihangel couldnt but with maddoc being five years older, maddoc was also his protector against the world. & sometimes the only one who could coax him out of his shell. so if maddoc is saying something is has to be true. he would rather there be yet another goddamn Scifi Event happen to him than maddoc be lying to her. mihangel is a natural questioner (even if sometimes he keeps the questions to himself, he is wondering) so even when strangeways is reporting back on some batshit thing thats supposedly happened in his mind hes already picking it apart. thats what makes him a good journalist except he always wants to write about people he meets & said batshit things happening so. hence no job lol

brief shoutout to this being technically within the doctor who universe - mihangel really wants to be able to believe what the doctor (twelve or eight) says to her but he did very much lie to her & then dump her back home with no explanation of what happened to her & why shes getting flashbacks to being dead so. even when eight shows up later & seems so much more earnest & gentle than twelve he still doesnt know if anything hes saying really is true. even thought he desperately wants to think it is. he . ahem. wants to believe.

for strangeways

43 - What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

strangeways was a masculine young woman in the 1920s so she has this idea that women are naturally weaker & demure, & that She is only strong & capable because she is more masculine, & that its some sort of a skill issue (not the phrase she would use) that other women arent also more masculine & therefore more capable & less giggly & irritating (the phrase she would use). having now lived through the first two or three waves of western feminism & 80s girlboss power suits she has ? sort of ? learned not even necessarily that her point of view is objectively wrong but more that not everyone sees it that way. she does try to keep it to herself around mihangel cos mihangel is transfem (a lot more complicated but under the general term of trans fem) & also generally a lot more gentle than strangeways - like strangeways is totally chill with trans people & everything, shes lived with artists for 50 years & was part of the queer community before it was legal, but every once in a while someone says 'hi girls' to her & mihangel in passing & she starts getting really defensive thats Shes Not A Girl & shes Not Like Those Silly Girls Who Only Care About Clothes & it takes her a minute to realise that actually theres nothing wrong with being a woman & no one was trying to imply she was lesser for it.

but there were times in her life where she passed for a guy in various environments & she Noticed the difference. shes been in her mid 20s for 50ish years & has experienced the same kind of stuff as a man & as a woman & she realised the difference in how she was treated.

53 - Who would / do they believe without question?

strangeways was also raised catholic & went to a catholic school & every once in a while she'll get a very hard to shake idea that something is a message from god. she hasnt been practicing for decades (being pulled in a rip in time itself will make you question whether god really knew what he was doing) but when she really really needs to do some reflecting she'll find a big beautiful old church & sit in the back row & think. she doesnt go to confession though there are things that she doesnt want Anyone to know about ever not even a priest & she figures well if god is real then he knows already why do i have to tell someone ten steps down the line from him. the last time she went to confession she felt so bad about whatever it was that she had done she ended up fudging the details cos she felt a) guilty about it b) like it was a stupid thing to be worried about and c) realised as soon as she opened her mouth that she didnt want to tell anyone anyways & she wasnt going to feel any better.

but all that said. in her work both on folklore & the stuff shes been doing with mihangel, tracking down places where time has gone a bit weird & all the associated phenomena - like a large part of 'unexplained activity' has been attributed to acts of god of angels or saints & sometimes strangeways finds herself a little too easily convinced of those ones. a little too prepared to believe in divine intervention.

on a more earthly level - where mihangel can veer wildly between indecisiveness & impulsive behaviour, strangeways once she makes a descicion is unlikely to change it . in a way she believes staunchly in her own ability & has been living independently for so long she trusts herself more than anything. if she knows what she saw, then thats what is was. she doesnt always feel the need for 'evidence' of anything is shes knows on her heart that she saw it

[nasuversekinkmeme]

much ado about soap operas - BlackJacketsandPens - Fate/Grand Order [Archive of Our Own]

Original Prompt: 

https://www.tumblr.com/nasuversekinkmeme/725393704201912320/morgan-castoria-or-oberon-get-stuck-watching-a?source=share

morgan castoria or oberon get stuck watching a live action 10000000 page slow burn mutual pining fic set in novum chaldea and possibly have to restrain themselves from just going up and telling the two idiots whoever they are that their feelings are fucking mutual moron i can see it with my faerie eyes please just get together so i can live my life without reading your mind as you wax rhapsodic about this bitch’s smile and sulk because you think they dont like you

Summary:

Castoria and Oberon commiserate over their Master’s ridiculous mutual pining situation and resolve to (attempt to) figure out how to do something about it. Why is Chaldea such a soap opera?! (SFW, no content warnings)

Honestly, Oberon thought sulkily. If he wanted to watch a soap opera, he’d steal someone’s television. (And he really, in point of fact, did not. Soap operas were annoying.)

The one…okay, one of the many bad things about being stuck in Novum Chaldea as one of Master Komadori Fujimaru’s servants was, well, the interpersonal drama. God help him but it was everywhere! You couldn’t take two steps without spotting some idiot with more issues than a magazine subscription, and his Faerie Eyes made it that much worse. Granted it was a bit more wildly varied and unhinged and frankly slightly more entertaining than Faerie Britain had been, yes, but still. Gah, were Heroic Spirits allergic to communication?!

(Not that he’s one to talk, but he has an excuse.)

And the worst part? Oh, the worst part was that not even their esteemed master was above it all! On the bright side, she was one of the most sincere, genuine, earnest people he knew, and it really did kind of hurt his eyes to look at her sometimes, clear and bright like Proper Human History’s blue sky – and there were icky emotions on his end there that he was not about to properly examine any time in the near ever – so it was a bit less awful than literally any other human ever. But on the downside, beyond her. Uh. Well, she had Thoughts about him he was studiously ignoring, and she had a remarkable propensity for horny thoughts every so often about…a lot of Servants, of both genders, but neither of those things were the problem here.

Oh no. The Komadori soap opera was about one person in specific, and it wasn’t the dead doctor or the samurai chick, both of which he’d heard about and heard she was still pining for in varying degrees. No. No, she had much worse taste than that. (Not that he knew the two dearly departed to judge her taste where they were concerned, but honestly, if she was eyeing him she had abysmal taste anyway.)

It was the infamous golden Archer, in point of fact. The shiny, arrogant, insufferable King of Heroes himself. Why, he had absolutely no goddamn clue. But boy, were her thoughts and feelings a whirlwind of pining and wistful sighs and all that stupid shit that sent her borderline swooning. Ugh! He was too busy gagging internally to parse the mashup of feelings that she gave off when he was in her vicinity, but it was goopy and gross and he desperately wished she’d just say fuck it and kiss him already, but nooooooo. Nooooooo.

And as if that weren’t bad enough, the stupid king was giving off the same bullshit pining nonsense! You’d think, given his attitude about basically everything, he’d be the first one to do something about it, sweeping her off her feet and declaring her His and making some arrogant proclamations about treasure or some dumbass shit. He didn’t seem the type to pine. And yet here the idiot was, watching her when her back was turned with the most stupidly fond expression on his face, and physically restraining himself from calling her whatever it was – probably some sappy ass nickname – that popped into his head every time he talked to her.

And of course, half the time he walked into the cafeteria to filch a meal from someone not paying attention, there they were. Being stupid. In front of his salad! Yeesh.

Thusly irritated, he spots one of his own usual targets and waltzes over, perching daintily in the seat beside her and resting his chin on a hand to beam sunnily at his Artoria, the Caster sitting distractedly with her tray of food in front of her. If he was going to be in a sour mood, he sure wasn’t going to be in one alone if he had anything to say about it!

“Gooooooood morning, Artoria~!” He chirps, his false cheer turned up to Extremely Grating levels for this early in the morning. “And how are we this fine day~? Why the long face?” He reaches out to steal a strawberry from her fruit cup just to add insult to injury, but she barely notices. Huh.

Instead, she flops onto the table, her forehead hitting it with a solid thunk. “Why is she so stupid,” she groans, voice muffled. “Smart about everything else, and yet. And yet. Gahhhhh.”

Oberon blinks slowly. “And you would be referring tooooo….?”

She tilts her head to peer up at him, one of her green eyes fixing him with the most deadpan look she can muster, which is definitely nothing to sneeze at. “Komadori. Duh. You can see it too, or you wouldn’t be trying extra hard to piss me off this morning. You always try to needle people when you’re in a bad mood.”

…well, he’s not going to belabor the fact that she knows him that well, even if he absolutely resents the hell out of it. In any case, she’s right, and he steals a grape and sticks his tongue out at her before popping it in his mouth.

“Busted,” he says, sighing dramatically. “Honestly, it’s exasperating. Look at them! I’d thought that King of Heroes was the type to take what he wants whether you want him to or not, and yet here they are, being– ugh, starcrossed. That hack Shakespeare’s written comedies like this and I hate them just as much.”

Artoria rolls her eyes. “No kidding!” She complains. “I’ve talked to my other selves about it, the original knows him pretty well and from what she says he’s absolutely the type to go for it way too hard if he’s into someone. Not to mention Komadori! I’ve seen her hit on a ton of Servants, and heck, she even flirts with him, but have they gotten their act together? No!” She sighs, just as dramatically. “It’s ridiculous!”

They fall silent, and stare at the duo – Komadori was with one of her usual mealtime groups, that being that Irish Lancer that looked like Grimr, the red haired Archer in green, and a couple others, and the King of Heroes was off being an arrogant tool with that just-as-gold pharoah, and both were studiously not shooting looks at each other every so often – for a long moment. And then as one, they turn to look at each other.

“Operation: Soap Opera Busters?” Artoria suggests.

Oberon grins, showing off his much-too-sharp teeth for a handsome faerie king. “Oh yes, let’s.”

She grins back, showing off her matching set. “Meet me in my room later, I’m gonna investigate. You see what you can find out too.”

“Got it~” He hums. “Let’s get our dearest darlingest Master laid.”

(Maybe if she was getting railed regularly by Mister King Goldie, she’d stop having those Thoughts about him. Right?)

——

Well! He thinks, as he finds his way to Artoria’s room – ‘room’, given she crashes in Komadori’s room more often than not – he’s discovered some very stupid, but very pertinent information about the King of Idiots. Okay, to be fair, it’s not objectively stupid, but it’s making the man act like a complete buffoon.

A quick library raid behind that mousy, big-breasted librarian Servant’s back got him the most basic information on the golden idiot’s myth, and that sent him seeking out the Servant named Enkidu. Now, he’s aware there’s a goddess or two from the area around, but he’s seen Ishtar in the cafeteria and hell the fuck no, no thanks. He actually likes Enkidu, anyway. The thing’s a clay doll made from the Planet itself, and considering he’s, well, similarly born…there’s a bit of a strange kinship. Granted, one of them was made to corral a semi-divine tyrant and the other was made to devour an entire country, but hey. Gaia’s weird like that.

And Enkidu, it turned out, was just as frustrated with golden boy as the two unwilling spectators were! Good! The homunculus had happily divulged what Oberon had been looking for, and even offered their assistance in ‘forcing Gil to stop acting so ridiculous about Master’ if needed. Which was probably going to be needed if Oberon intended to have a Pointed Conversation with the man, given golden boy could probably break him in half with one hand. Stupid arbitrary Strength stats.

Anyway! Onward. He pops into Artoria’s room with nary a knock, and waves at her sitting on a crate – yes, her ‘room’ was a storage room she’d decided to commandeer as her little headquarters when she wasn’t napping in a pile with Komadori on her bed – with a winning smile. “Hello, hello, do I have some juicy gossip for you~! Courtesy everyone’s favorite green haired homunculus, who sends their regards and offer of assistance beating Golden Idiot upside the head if we need it.”

Artoria snickers. “Komadori told me they made friends by beating each other senseless in a market square,” she says. “I’m somehow not surprised it’s that kind of friendship. Anyway! I ended up talking to that Servant, um, Robin Hood, because I asked around and someone told me he was actually there in that Singularity thing that took place in Gilgamesh’s kingdom. Komadori gets evasive about some of the stuff that happened there, so I figured it’d be a good place to start. And boy, was it!”

“So I take it we both have the juicy gossip~?” Oberon says, amused. “Good to know, so spill it. What happened?”

Artoria leans in, eyes alight with that vicious sort of glee that he’d always found so damn funny, more so now that he’s met her other selves, who have none of that unhinged sort of feral wildness she does. “Gilgamesh – like, actual living person in the Singularity Gilgamesh, though ours has his memories apparently – literally jumped in front of a laser for her. Like, Robin was there, he saw it but didn’t move fast enough and then like, boom! Right through the heart! He literally died for her, Oberon, like, oh my god! Robin said he said some dumb shit about needing to anyway for Singularity reasons, but like, of all ways to go!”

“He died for her and she still doesn’t think he–” Oberon groans. “Is she stupid?! She’s stupid! Look at him, you’ve seen him, he’s got a head bigger than Cernunnos and acts like a spoiled five year old half the time, he wouldn’t do something like that unless he legitimately gave a damn! How the hell does she not see it!?”

Artoria shrugs helplessly. “Robin says his best guess is that Komadori’s got some trauma over losing people after that doctor guy and the samurai lady and, like, half the people she’s ever met along the way saving the world– and to be fair, we didn’t help– so she’s afraid to commit just in case,” she explains, and Oberon grimaces. Hell, she did have a point there. They, uh, really didn’t do much to not reinforce the ‘all my friends die’ trauma. Oops, sorry not sorry (on his end, at least, he’s sure Artoria does feel a bit bad). “Which does make sense. But, I mean, come on, he’s a Servant! She can always summon him back. Which, granted, doesn’t erase the dying part, but still. Isn’t he like one of the most mega-powerful Servants anyway? He’s gotta be hard to kill!”

“And anyway, she’s not one to balk at taking stupid, reckless risks,” Oberon adds with a roll of his eyes. “You and I both have seen how insane she is firsthand.” He studiously is not going to mention the fact that one of said risks was nearly jumping off the Border after him when he’d fallen. Nope, not relevant. “But…wait a minute,” he blinks and then slaps a hand to his face. “Oh my god, they have the same damn issue! This is ridiculous!”

Artoria blinks. “What?”

“Yes!” He complains. “I told you, I talked to Enkidu! They said that when they were both alive, they’d died because gods are shitheads, and Golden Idiot was mega ultra traumatized forever by it!” There was more to it than that, about the idiot’s terminal semidivine induced loneliness and avoidance of any real connections besides Enkidu themselves, but given Oberon understood that part a tiny bit too well he wasn’t going to think about it too hard. “They’re both sitting around pining relentlessly but being too scared to say anything because they don’t want to risk losing someone they love again and being hurt, my god this is actually worse than Shakespeare!”

Artoria buries her face in her hands, swearing inarticulately in a mix of very colorful Cornish, Breton, and Welsh – he’s so proud, who taught her half of those – for a moment before sighing. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, don’t we?” She moans.

“We do,” Oberon complains, draping dramatically across another crate. “Uuuuughhhhh, why did I sign up for this?”

“Because you’re as sick as I am of watching them dance around each other?” Artoria suggests. “Because you like Komadori and want to see her happy?”

“Shut up, do not accuse me of that second one, how dare you,” Oberon snaps. Rude! He absolutely, totally, definitely hates their master. For sure. Completely. Yep. No lies here. “But damn it all, you’re right, I am sick of it.”

They fall silent for a moment, staring at each other.

“…we have to talk to them now, don’t we,” Oberon says.

Artoria blinks slowly. “That…is the next step, yeah.”

More staring.

And thus comes the simultaneous frustrated screams of two people who are notoriously terrible at sincere interpersonal communication realizing they’ll have to actively do just that in order to resolve this issue.

Ah, well. Looks like they’ll be suffering for a little longer, won’t they?

[tetrostaffsidereposts]

Chapter 2 November 8 Thread A

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] So, fun fact.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Apparently Dr. Tsutsujio told Dr. Izamaru about a little rumour that's been going around.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] I.E. the collar secret's out.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] Honestly that doesn't really surprise me and I think it was probably the whole point actually.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] God, that's so fucking weird. What the hell is her deal?

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] It's not that bad. Honestly it makes her really happy when we wear them so I don't really want to start a fight about it.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] It's not something worth getting her angry over at least. I just do it and get it out of the way.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] So is it all the psych guys with turtlenecks then? Like, all of them? Is it a tell I should be looking out for? Secret hint that the doctor is whipped as hell?

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] I actually don't know who has them and who doesn't. I just know that mine's more expensive because she told me.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Wow, fancy. How generous of her.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] Please don't go around telling people about this.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] I'm not contributing to stupid office gossip. Why would I go out of my way to humiliate you? Don't be dumb.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Are you feeling okay? What with Three being dead and everything?

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] I'm trying not to think about it. I'm already not really feeling well today.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Yeah, well, sorry I can't do anything for you this time around. It's annoying.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] You worry about me too much, A.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] God, shut up, the engineering guys were making fun of me for that the other day, I've heard enough.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] Making fun of you?

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Mikuma treats me like I'm a goddamn fudanshi. It's genuinely starting to piss me off.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] It's because you read manga during work hours, A.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] I just like reading. I don't get why it's fine for Ruo to read the same shit. I want to be your friend without people constantly breathing down my neck about it.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] COWORKER

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Oh my god I meant coworker

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] If it makes you feel any better I definitely don't want to date you.

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] Unfortunately I'm about a thousand notches out of your league. Maybe you can find a needy otaku somewhere who doesn't mind your stupid hair and stupid interests.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] Hey A?

[362985938/ Dr. Figueiredo] What?

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] Thank you for always being the same.

[903865375/ Dr. Murunaga] Tatematsu back gotta go

[THREAD WIPED]

(P.S: A note about why I've been inactive under the cut)

Hey, sorry for being MIA for a while. I should've used the time that had slower days to catch up but finals and holidays kicked my ass. I'm pretty embarrassed to admit I was stumped to find the dates for threads when I went past the wiki. Of course, I could've used the search feature on Twitter the entire time. So that's what I'm going to do. Sorry about that! If you want to see a source that is far more comprehensive than this blog, check it out here! It's also in the pinned post.

[paperboy-pb]

Hi! I have my own story with an Asthmatic protagonist (although we haven't explored it in-story yet) & I (@orange-ghost) am Asthmatic myself :]

I'm scrolling through that Mayo Clinic article and I think it forgot something? That, OR it just has it under a different name that I don't recognize. Or I'm overlooking it. Ever heard of a Nebulizer? It's a special machine I've had to use ever since, like... basically birth whenever I get sick from cold air. AKA my worst trigger by far.

It's this small but clunky, loud as shit machine that has a tube and a small face-mask attached to it. You can get a bunch of different ones! I've had this weird frog one since I was a kid, for example.

Basically, every Nebulizer comes with a face mask thing that you connect to the machine with a tube.

The face mask has a compartment that splits in 2 where you put in your liquid asthma medication (Albuterol, in my case.) Once the dose is in there, you close it back up, switch the machine on, and it makes this big rumble-like(?) noise and creates a mist. Then you just gotta sit there, chill, and breathe that in until it runs out.

When the machine's running low/almost done, it'll start to sound different-- like it's struggling, basically. And that's when you should go over and switch the machine off; you'l usually have a tiny bit of medication left, though, and that's fine. Mine takes like... I don't know, 7 minutes? You can't really move around much. Just gotta sit there and breathe with your mouth, nose, or both. I've been told to take deep breaths with my mouth for it. And it helps your airways a lot; gets the medication & moisture directly to there and it'll either help fight inflammation or open

Pretty much whenever I catch a cold or flu, it sets off my Asthma & I gotta do all that every 4 hours or so. My coughing will calm down for a little while? But it'll still be there regardless until I get better, and after using a Nebulizer, the cough becomes wetter, or "more productive." Because, y'know, with Asthma, you're dealing with mucus. Which you're eventually gonna start coughing up after a few days as Phlegm!

Fun! Except not really. Gross. You're gonna be spitting that stuff out for a while. It's a good thing, though-- gets that excess mucus outta there. But pay attention to the color because it's a pretty good way of seeing how your airways are doing.

Brief explanation of why (ft. My internal dialogue.) Google it if you wanna learn in-depth!

Clear = "Sweet! I'm doing better! I shouldn't suffer for more than like, 2 days going onward."

White or yellow-ish = "Goddamn it. The airways are still inflamed. Back to the Nebulizer I go (provided it's been 4+ hours since I did it last.) We're gonna be sick for a while."

Brown = "Concerning! Aight, time to contact a doctor, that's probably blood." (Or you have some other condition... either way please contact a doctor, that's not exactly a good sign.)

Any other color is also a doctor's visit / call!

It also has this really fucking annoying side effect immediately afterward-- or at least, Albuterol does. I wouldn't know about every medication out there, but with Albuterol, you get physically shaky and jittery for a while afterward. To the point where things like drawing or writing are a problem on my end for like 20 minutes afterward because I just can't hold a pencil straight. Sucks because I usually use being sick as a chance to draw or write & be productive!

That's all I've got for now. For the PB readers, stay tuned! For the people who just wanna learn about Asthma... hey, me & Matthew are still down to educate based off our own experiences!

Visual, if that helps:

What sort of things (medication, other techniques etc.) would an asthmatic character use to manage their asthma day to day? Also, how are severe attacks managed in hospital?

Hi lovely asker!

So it depends on how severe of asthma they have and what type of asthma too.

So for some people they only have asthma that flares or is triggered during certain activities or when certain factors are at play. Extreme weather, allergens, exercise, smoke, fumes, are all things and for some people they will trigger an asthma attack. Here's a link from the CDC of triggers for asthma.

Medications: For the general person a Daily Steroid and an Bronchodilator are usually all that is needed. Here is an article from the Mayo Clinic that actually lists all the meds used to treat asthma. Its a bit heavy on the medical terms but it's a really good list the different types of Asthma and what meds are usually used to treat it.

Equipment: If needed there is home oxygen concentrators for at home along with portable oxygen concentrators as well. Nebulizers. CPT devices, percussion vest, PEP devices, are all also things that someone may or may not use. If needed Suction Devices also are an option for people who have a hard time clearing mucus/phlegm.

Techniques: CPT, and certain breathing techniques like Huff Coughing help. Here is a link to the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation that talks more in dept about airway clearance.

If there are conditions in combination with asthma I would research to see how they would affect each other or if they exacerbate each other. Conditions like Cystic Fibrosis, GERD, COPD, Severe allergy conditions, connective tissue disorders, and others often cause complications with asthma. When conditions are in combination, often you'll need to treat one condition to treat the other condition. For example: Treating your GERD will decrease asthma symptoms because it's no longer irritating what it was, hence making it easy to breathe. Or something like Xolair and Cromolyn Sodium often can treat Asthma and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome together.

And In my experience, in a hospital setting, asthma attacks and the beginnings of them are treated with bronchodilators. If things get worse from there, things like steroid injections, epinephrine and of course oxygen as needed are used. If all that fails, intubation would be the next step if the person still isn't satting right and aren't getting oxygen.

That is all I can think of for now but if you have any more questions feel free to ask and good luck writing!

~ Mod Virus 🌸

[stressedoutcanary]

Do You Ever Feel Like A Misfit (Everything Inside You Is Dark & Twisted)

Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.5K (I don't know how tf that happened)

Warnings: Explicit language, Blood and Violence, lots of angst, Hurt/Comfort ✌

A/N: Guess who's back! Just for some context the reader is a magic user and her style is similar to that of Zatanna <3

•°•°•°•°

She’d have reasoned with herself that stealing from one of the most secure and heavily guarded safe-houses of a deranged sociopath was probably not the brightest idea she’s had all day. It never even made it on her to-do-list for the weekend, but here she was, running across rooftops, holding on to the stolen totem like her life depended on it, it probably did. The three assassins sent after her were no Lady Shiva or Talia Al Ghul but they weren’t exactly amateurs either. The deep cuts and two broken ribs she got from their earlier encounter were proof of that.

She glanced back and even though there was no sign of her would-be-killers she knew better than to assume they’d just let her be. They were sticking to the shadows, exploiting her blind spots. The only thing she was sure of was that they were still hot on her trail and would happily plunge a dagger into her back given the opportunity.

She was right. As of this moment she hated being right.

She caught the glint of the two sharp objects slicing through the air, hurtling towards her at full speed. A slight shift of her upper body was all she could manage as one of the daggers got embedded right into her scapula while the other one, fortunately so, whirled past her, slightly grazing her left hip. The impact of the blade on her shoulder made her lose what little balance she had left. Despite her best efforts, when the wounded shoulder made contact with the hard concrete, a loud, ear-piercing cry ripped out from her throat before she could push it back down.

Cursing under her breath she knew, she knew all she had were those few seconds of numbness and disorientation to get a grip and figure out her exit strategy. However, all her hopes started to sink as she saw one of the assassins come closer, appearing more of a blur than a person. Then again that was probably because of the nice, little concussion she got from her fall. The assassin walked over to her, unsheathed their sword and placed it right on her neck, blocking any and every way out.

“You were warned. The Demon’s Head does not tolerate treachery. We are here under his orders to bring back the totem along with the witch’s head; your head”

If she could, she would’ve rolled her eyes at the classic villainous dialogues thrown at her.

“Witch? Who’re you calling a witch Snow White? I’m clearly a sorceress, don’t they teach you the difference between the two in assassin school or something? Hell, I’d even let you call me an enchantress, though that name’s already been taken but you get my poin-” 

The remaining words died in her throat as the sword on her neck shifted slightly. She knew she had extremely poor self preservation skills considering she’s clearly been instigating the very person sent to kill her, but even she wasn’t dumb enough to keep talking when the tiniest movement on either part could result in her having a severed jugular or carotid. 

‘This is a pretty shitty way to die’ 

She thought back to how she used the last of her mystic energy to hide the totem away before her fall and how stupid that decision really was because now she could actually feel the agonizing pain coming from her shoulder. It started to spread throughout her back like wildfire, eyelids grew heavy against her wishes. Suddenly she felt really tired and the idea to close her eyes just felt so goddamn appealing. 

‘No (Y/N) that’s the blood loss talking. Blood loss doesn’t get to make decisions’, she mentally scolded herself, still not breaking her eye contact with the person standing above her.

“Give us what you stole and we shall grant you the mercy of a quick death.”

That made her raise an eyebrow, “Ah, lemme think...the correct response here would be…”, she hummed, making a show of how hard she was thinking about the offer she was granted, “How about a fuck you? How would that do for you?”, she gave them a vicious grin, it was all teeth.  They probably weren’t impressed by her response and it showed.

She knew there was no way out but she had promised herself once that if she were to die, that if she ever goes out, she’d be anything but a whimpering and sobbing mess. She was scared shitless, more so than she’d ever been while fending off the league, she won’t deny that but she would rather die than let them know that.  ‘Well at least I got that ‘rather die’ part down to a T.’ she thought, eyeing the sharpness of the blade which was now raised up in the air

She felt bad for just giving up the way she did. Her whole life she was told to fight her way through the impossible, to attain the strength rivaling that of Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine and Doctor Fate himself. To be better than them, and there she was lying on the ground limp as a sword came down on her throat; all for a silly necklace. She would’ve huffed out a laugh if only her ribs weren’t broken, if only her body wasn’t screaming in pain, if only she had a way out. She didn’t. She was too tired, too drained, too numb to do anything else. Closing her eyes she stopped fighting, she let her growing unconsciousness claim her.

‘This is what you deserve anyway’, her barely there conscience remarked.

‘Fuck you too.’ she replied.

Everything went pitch black. The darkness encompassing her was peaceful, unlike the pain she had felt before. It was nice for a change. It sounded pathetic  but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

•°•°

 When she came to, the first thing she observed was the feeling of something soft against her back, next was a dull rhythmic sound which she realized was her own heartbeat. Though opening her eyes was a tiring task. It shouldn’t have been, but it was. She used all the energy she had into it and her eyelids fluttered open. She stared at the white ceiling and stayed like that for a few seconds; a few minutes? She couldn’t tell, but the pain was back now, not too much but enough to tell her it was there, to tell she was still alive.

She saw something shift in her peripheral vision and her body instinctively went stiff. Her mind which was blank before now ran in all directions.

‘Could be Ra’s Al Ghul… Could be worse’, she tried not to think about the worst case scenario, but she knew she had pissed off a lot of beings, beings far more powerful and far crueler than Ra’s himself. An involuntary shudder passed through her at the thought. That must’ve caught her captor’s attention as she felt the person move closer to her. Begrudgingly, she tore her gaze from the spot on the ceiling which she had been staring at this whole time and tilted her head. The man in black and blue who appeared, was probably the last person she had expected to see.

“Nightwing…”

Her voice was barely above a whisper and the hoarseness with which it came out it took her by surprise, but her body visibly relaxed at the sight of the familiar figure, at the sight of someone who would never hurt her.  

She watched him pull out a chair from the desk nearby. He sat next to the bed she was lying on and gave her a soft smile, a smile that spelled one word ‘relieve’. She remembered how when she first met him two years ago, she found that particular smile extremely annoying, she had no reason to, but she did. What she couldn’t remember was when she had grown so fond of it.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit.”

He snorted a laugh which made her pout. She was planning to point out how he was being mean; laughing at her when her response truly defined the way she was feeling, but any words she thought of were cut off by the change in his expression. His smile faltered, lips were now pressed in a thin line, face contorted in a way which showed his genuine concern.

“This is the second time, this week.”

That you almost died, he didn’t say. That I had to save you and bring you back from the clutches of death, he didn’t say.

“I know.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know.”

The silence that settled, stretched far too long for comfort, but she wasn’t going to be the one to break it. She wanted to, but there was nothing she could say, that would make it better. Nightwing ran his fingers through the locks of hair, burying his face in his hands.

For the first time since she woke up, she took in his appearance, he looked disheveled,  his suit was torn in different places along visible faint cuts, most likely he got them when he rescued her. She felt a pang of guilt rising in her chest. He risked his life for her, she knew he had done it before, she didn’t get it then and she didn’t get it now. Why would someone do that? Why would he? She was pulled back from her spiraling thoughts when he spoke again, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“Why are you so reckless?”

“Excuse me?”

She looked at him like he had grown another head. She wasn’t ready for this conversation but by the looks of it they were gonna have it anyway.

“What if I hadn’t been there today? Or any of the other days you almost died. What then?”

“My best guess? I would’ve been dead.”

“And that fact doesn’t bother you at all?!”

She flinched at little when his voice rose, but she stood her ground, at least figuratively since she was still in bed.

“I don’t know, should it?” She didn’t try and tone down the venom dripping from her words. Her words cut deeper than the wounds he got from the assassins; she saw it clear as day on his face. She let out a deep sigh but continued. She had to get it out and he had to hear it, that’s the reason she gave herself for the confession that followed.

“I don’t need your help, Dick. I don’t know what gave you the impression that I did but I’ve never needed it.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘Why was it getting harder to speak?’ “I don’t need you to save me every time. I don’t need you to risk your life for me and I definitely don’t…” She moved to sit up straight, her back resting on the headboard. She shifted her gaze on her open palms resting in her lap; palms covered in blood, in her blood, not very long ago.

“I don’t need you to care...”

The last part was a whisper and Dick was silent, so silent that for a brief moment she wondered if the man she’d come to care about even heard her, admitting something that was so painful for her to say out loud.

Dick moved to sit beside her, his shoulder bumping hers. He didn’t know where all this was coming from but he knew better to leave it unattended.

“(Y/N) I help you because I care about you. I always will, you know that.”

“Why? You have nothing to gain from it”, blinking back the unshed tears in her eyes, she looked at him with a hurt expression as if she couldn’t bring herself to understand.

“Why… as in why do I care?”, Dick tilted his head to look her in the eyes, trying to understand what she meant all the while making sure not to let his own surprise at her words show. She nodded not trusting her voice to not betray her anymore than it already had.

“I don’t care about you because I feel like you need it nor because I would gain something from it”, Dick knew he shouldn’t have to explain it to her. He briefly wondered what she had gone through to make her think that she needed to be useful to be cared for or that she had to need it to be cared for. He felt something pull at his heart at the thought; It was sorrow.

“I care about you because… well I do and there’s nothing you could or couldn’t do to change that. And it is because I care about you that I ask you to be better at taking care of yourself. Now I know for a fact that whatever you stole from The League’s safehouse definitely did not belong there, but I also know that whatever it was, it wasn’t worth your life (Y/N) It never will be.”

Dick grasped one of her hands, interlacing his gloved fingers with hers; she hadn’t even realized she was shaking until he did so. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take a deep breath despite her protesting ribs. Opening the palm of her free hand she muttered an incantation with practiced ease

“Eveirter tahw saw neddih “, her hand glowed, the golden aura taking the shape of a object. When the light subsided, Dick saw the object in her palm as she rubbed her thumb across it, quietly leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It was this totem. It belongs to Madame Xanadu. Don’t know what Ra’s wanted it for though”, she shrugged as best as she could with an injured shoulder then continued, voice firmer than it had been the whole evening,“ She asked me to retrieve it in exchange for information on a girl I was looking for. The girl was somehow sucked into some other dimension, a mystic one and her mother was so desperate when she approached me that I just couldn’t say no. So when I say the Totem was important, then I want you to know that it really is.”

Dick shook his head at that. “Still not worth your life.”

“Dick…”, she sighed. It was all she could do at the moment because she was really getting tired from all the arguing.

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean the time I met the infamous vigilante Nightwing in a dumpster of all places.”

“In my defense I was badly injured”, she hummed in agreement.

“You smelled bad”

“You try smelling like flowers after falling from a building and into an open dumpster.”

His playful grumbling pulled a short laugh out of her. She was more than a little confused at the sudden trip into the past but happily accepted it as a change of topic. She should’ve know better than to think he’d have let the matter go.

“Anyway my point is when you saw me that day, you first instinct was to help me. You pulled me out and used your magic to heal my wounds. You didn’t have to. You could’ve dropped me at a hospital. You could’ve even walked away and pretended that you never saw me, but you didn’t. Why is that?”

“Because I thought you were handsome?”, she said trying to lighten this too-heavy-for-comfort conversation he was trying to have.

“Nice try. I know you. You saved me because you cared. You helped me and the Titans save the city more than once because you cared. It is who you are. I’ve seen you care about and worry over complete strangers without conditions. So why do you think that there has to be some kind of a barter system when it comes to you? Why think that I would want to gain something if I cared about you?”

“Because everyone else did.”

The words shot out from her mouth quicker than she realized. She had voiced her greatest insecurity to the one person who never had anything to add to it and Dick’s heart clenched at the implications of her words, ‘She has never been loved unconditionally before’ his brain provided.

The tears she blinked back earlier came back with full force. She felt two strong arms that wrapped around her, all the while being mindful of her injuries. Dick pulled her into a hug and that was it. She couldn’t control the sobs that tore through her throat, the pain in her body flared due her erratic movements. She knew once the tears started flowing they wouldn’t stop at least not for a while, but now that her façade had been broken she couldn’t bring herself to give it another thought.

He waited for her to let it out, let out all the pent up emotions she had. Now that he thought about it he had never seen her cry. He never questioned it, maybe he should’ve.

“I don’t know who’s responsible for hurting you (Y/N), God, how much I wish I did”, his arms slightly tighten around her at that. “I am so sorry that you have felt like you have to have your walls up all the time, even around me and I should’ve seen that, I should’ve realized that before but I didn’t and I am so sorry for that. I can’t undo the damage you’ve endured and I will not pretend that I can. What I can do is promise you that I’d never let you down like that, never.”

The words he spoke were clear. He didn’t try to tell her to put her walls down, to trust him when she had no reason to. He also didn’t need to justify himself or make such over the top promises but it felt nice to hear it. She had already stopped crying the moment he started speaking again but she still had her forehead pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, it was calming in a way she couldn’t describe. She pulled her head back to look at him, and the honesty in his voice earlier matched the one in his eyes.

“Okay”

Hearing her response, he gave her his signature grin. It sent unexpected warmth through her, he always had that effect on her. She was sure she was just blushing at this point and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the room. 

She ended up composing herself rather quickly, jabbing a finger at his armored chest with her usual smirk plastered on her face.

“Now that you’ve made that promise, know this, Dick Grayson, if you let me down I will drop a mountain on you.”

“You mean that figuratively?”

“No I mean that geologically”, he waited for her to say she was kidding. She didn’t.

“Alright, alright”, He held his hands out in mock surrender. After considering the look in her eyes, Dick refrained from questioning the feasibility of that action nor did he want to question her magical abilities or intent. Last he remembered, Wally did that and that conversation ended with him being teleported to Sahara and Dick would very much like to avoid the same fate as his best friend.

Deciding that was more than enough exhaustion for one night, he got up from the bed and kissed her goodnight, informing her that he’d be sleeping on the couch so that he wouldn’t accidently hit her injuries in his sleep. She agreed and watched him slip out of the room before falling into the blissful sleep she had been putting off since forever.

��°•°

She knew Dick Grayson was full of surprises but the next morning when he put forward the offer of become a full time Titan, in front of her, she wondered if she fell from the bed in her sleep and ended up  getting another concussion because he was so not making any sense.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to come live with you and your superhero friends, in the Titans freaking Tower?!”

“I was hoping for a little less yelling after an emotional evening but yes that is exactly what I’m asking.”

“Dick that’s just ridiculous!”

“Look, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

He looked like a kicked puppy which made her feel kinda guilty for all the yelling.

“It’s not that…It’s just there is still a lot about me I haven’t told them. There is still a lot I haven’t told you. I don’t see a reason why you all would want to trust a possible threat, let alone live with it”, she gestured to herself.

Dick felt like there was a deeper meaning behind her words, as if she was voicing her own fear rather than theirs but he trusted her enough to tell him about it when she was ready, on her own terms. He could wait till then but for now he crossed the short distance between them, going around the breakfast table till he stood in front of her. He grasped both of her hands in his and ran his thumb soothingly across her knuckles. He bent down to place a soft kiss on her forehead, and then moved to meet her gaze.

“(Y/N), I know you and I trust you and…It sounds silly considering I was raised by the worlds greatest detective but I believe that you don’t have to know every little detail about someone as long as you already know what’s in their heart.” Bruce probably would’ve disagreed but he wasn’t Bruce.

“And you know what’s in mine?”

“And I know what’s in yours.” His statement was firm and left no room for argument, not when it came to this.

“If you’re sure about this, then I guess...”

“Is that a yes I’m hearing?”, There was that smile again, seriously what was up with him and his smile that made her giddy inside.

In between thoughts she realized he was still waiting for a response so she nodded. Any underlying doubts she had about her answer vanished when she took in how happy it made him. As cheesy as it sounded seeing him happy made her happy. A part of her said it wouldn’t last long, but seeing her boyfriend hop onto the couch full of joy as he called his friends about the latest development in their lives, she wanted to believe otherwise.    

°•°•°•°•

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

[the-stove-is-divorced]

I am once again saying how much I love discussing this, omg.

Currently workin’ on a WIP, so feeling critically starved about who these characters are is horribly real. Begging s3 to give me SOMETHING that wasn’t about Nolan (grieving), or Mark (Mom) ｏ(＞＜；)○. Does she paint??? Did she drop any hobbies? Pick them back up? Like is she freakishly competitive in board games? She makes a whole meal in s1, does she enjoy cooking? Does she follow recipes precisely or vaguely glancing at them, before doing her own thing? But I kinda love Debbie getting into sword fighting, omg. Let her get into fencing. Axe throwing even. Boxing. 

But fr why am I fighting for my life trying to figure out who these characters are???? WHO ARE THEY? W H O ???

I personally can’t imagine Debbie and Greg being very close tbh. I love ‘em both, but Greg’s avoidance conflicts with her involvement? She raised Mark, she thought she knew about Nolan, while the Gems basically had the bulk of custody of Steven, incidentally neglecting crucial stuff like doctor appointments. She was there. Not to say Greg sucks, I think what he did made sense for him, and he’s plenty supportive when Steven comes to him, tho shown as (understandably) biased in a way Debbie hasn’t, looking at SUF. Now craving to see Mark and Debbie bonding, honestly, what was home like when Nolan wasn’t around? Are they really close? Do they share hobbies? Does Mark know all her coworkers, daily annoyances, and watch movies together?

I am endlessly fucking curious about how they work. I'd take the background radiation thing in a heart beat, 'cause there’s no hint at any energy consumption but they gotta be burning plenty??? S2’s last episode really fucked with me because the throwaway line about Mark not liking who he became in a desert, ergo wasteland, suggests he survived for a while, so I straight up figured Viltrumites can photosynthesize. Like Superman vibe? Invincible (show/comic) is the whole Evil Superman Thing, no? There was no suggestion of anything edible or living in that dimension either, so stick them near a star and energy gained? Nolan was in space long enough to grow a beard…? I’m going with vague star batteries. 

Though I’d fucking love if they had, like, weird cravings. Like how humans can eat stuff other animals can’t, can Viltrmutes eat like raw tree bark? Eat wood? Inedible flowers? Drink saltwater? Has Debbie caught Nolan chewing on toxic stuff and just silently screamed in her head? Does cyanide taste good to them? Do toxins/poisons taste like sweeteners? Like, what can’t their teeth break through? Does Mark get indescribable cravings? Changing taste buds? Maybe they’ve always been slightly off? Has Mark, as a child, tried to drink salt water at the beach/on a boat, Nolan nodding like it’s normal while Debbie nearly shrieks? Has Nolan ever said he’s hungry and just sunbathed? Like Mark drinking coffee, does he just think it works?

Also, do they never get scars? Ever? Or is it just rare? Mf’s almost died plenty and there’s just nothing. Ofc, I know why, adjusting the character design every time is just annoying for production, but I am weak for details like that. Like has he always been a bit more durable than he should be? I have questions. Like, would scars be a symbol of pride for stuff you survived or weakness for getting hit at all? What weird stuff Mark got from Nolan? Also, like, has Nolan ever tried instilling some Viltrum BS in Mark early on? Did Mark start fights when he was younger? Act recklessly thinking powers would kick in? Can he never invite a friend over just in case Nolan came in, suit and all? Did tiny Mark try telling people who his Dad was, only to get called a liar? I always circle back to their respective parenting because I’m starting to think they had the opportunity to make Mark so goddamn weird.

Mark agreeing to go hang out on a beach w Debbie instead of refusing and the beach is Beach City (am now officially thinking too much about this crossover lol)

The way I got caught up on our back and forth I almost forgot this, lol! AND OH MY GOODNESS, IMAGINE? I forget exactly what which point Debbie makes the beach offer, but I’d love when exactly in SU/SUF-timeline they’d go? There’s something so fucking funny to me about them going during the SUF-timeline and always narrowly missing the strange, Steven-shaped mental breakdowns in the back. I know those don’t occur in a single day, but it’s tickling me. How could they miss anything? I don’t know I just think it’s funny.

Though, post-SUF is interesting if Gems can see the similar “world on your shoulders”, Mark has going on! Steven can shunt the narrative in the Gems’ minds, which I think is neat, if I’m not misusing the phrase since the guy’s on the road far away. Or maybe it’s just before Steven goes and they stumble into each other. I’d kinda love Pearl and Debbie interacting, honestly, if they could talk about loving someone who hurt you, hide things from you, even when you thought you knew them so deeply, and they left you to raise a child. Pearl being in a well adjusted space, and Debbie still grieving.

Honestly, the gems could help train Mark, they’re got experience and similar-ish powers in strength, sturdiness, and they can jump/run fast enough for flying to be vaguely similar enough to lecture about, I think. Or Lapis Lazulis, haha! Peridot with her trash can lid! Garnet, I’d love to see if she told Mark anything about his future in vague, well meaning advice. Or even giving relationship advice considering Amber. Or, importantly, how to convince an entire reign to end their colonizing ways, lol. Is Mark perhaps willing to start a war, take advantage of being related to any leaders, or fake his own death to varying results?

In general, there’s something so fucking funny to me about Nolan, in the sake of comparison, being Pink Diamond coded. Like OH, did an important or well respected of the colonizing empire come to earth and learn the beauty of its people and nature, including faking/lying/omitting things about his identity and background to being in, only to feel conflicted when his responsibility still remained, and he tried to free himself from them? Yikes! We’ve been through that before! Like gimme Pink Diamond and Nolan outfit swap rn. This is tickling me so much oh my goodness.

[spenciegoob]

The 4 Types of Manipulation

A/N: hey hey hey cuties... just thought I’d drop in to tell you I love you and Harry Styles at the Grammy’s, oh and Miley Cyrus in general. Okay that’s it.

Summary: Spencer has to interrogate an unsub, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Not fluff, but not angst... angsty fluff? fluffy angst?

Content Warning: mentions of murder, manipulation, mentions of sex in the form of flirting, mentions of drug use, mentions of emotional abuse

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8K

____

Nobody dared to take a breath out of place, every profiler was packed into the room watching with careful eyes at the sobbing girl in the interrogation room through the glass. No one knew what their first step should be, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right? Winging it was not something anyone in the BAU enjoyed doing, each case needed a thought out plan.

But they’ve seen this unsub before, they know the profile, the history, they know her. So why was she crying so hard that the weight of her head became unbearable, leaving her only option to sob into the crooks of her elbows as best as she could with wrists cuffed to the table?

Nobody knew, except for Spencer Reid.

Emily was hesitant, as expected, to blindly send in one of the best agents she’s ever seen into the room that with each tear shed slowly morphed into a lion’s den. Reid deserved better, she knew that, especially since the last time they dealt with an unsub like this one, Spencer had to be so far out of the loop that the case almost broke him.

He put up a good fight though, and if the determination set in his eyes wasn’t enough to inform the unit chief that she was not winning this argument, his deviance to storm through the door, startling the young woman chained down definitely did.

Why was it always Spencer?

Tears:

“P-please, I didn’t do anything.” Those were the first words anyone’s heard her say since the arrest, even if they were separated by sniffles and choked out sobs. 

Spencer just stared down at her, not taking the risk to further entertain the stuttering girl with wet cheeks and tired eyes.

“I promise I’m not a murderer. You have to believe me, please.” That promise whispered so quietly made with unbreakable eye contact urged him to take a second to reevaluate the situation.

She was apprehended in place of Jacob Hughes, the man they had originally been looking for. There was a chance she wasn’t complicit, a chance she was innocent. Maybe Jacob placed a hair of hers at the latest crime scene because he knew they were closing in.

Or maybe she is just as sick as he is. 

“Prove it,” Spencer said, his tone loud and assertive, leaving no room for argument. She didn’t plan on fighting his demand anyway.

“I- I haven’t seen Jacob for days. He drugged those men, and did h-horrible things. Those poor men.” This struck a nerve, everybody could tell, even the one person in this interaction that wasn’t a profiler. 

Spencer’s shoulders tensed for a millisecond, but she saw it. She saw what her words were doing to him, after all, he used to be one of those poor men she felt so sorry for.

Another loud sob echoed off the concrete walls before she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe he mur... did that to them. H-how could he?” Spencer watched as the young girl looked up to him like he held the answer to the million dollar question. He studied the way her eyes bounced around his face, looking for something, anything to relieve some confusion when it came to her fiancé.

“Jacob Hughes is what we call a vindictive narcissist and a sadist. He receives pleasure from hurting others, and in this case, drugging and torturing men because he feels he’s been wronged his whole life. The question, however, is why. I know you know, just like how I know you’re aware of his crimes.”

It was a blow so low it could’ve come from hell itself. Spencer regretted it immediately when he watched the way her whole body stiffened at the mention of her knowledge, but he had to be certain no matter the fallout.

“I-I still don’t understand. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone.” Denial, guilt and fear all jam packed into 3 little words that had his heart dangerously close to breaking. The sorrow in her eyes believable enough that Spencer left his standing position between the suspect and the door to sit directly across from her.

She watched his movements with careful eyes, only stealing glances from her peripherals before returning to her cuffed wrists.

“Maybe you’ve never seen him physically hurt anyone, but we know what he does to you.” It was the first and only time Spencer let any emotion, as fake as it was, show in his responses. How could he not try when the girl resumed her sobbing at the implication of her past deception from the man she loves? 

“You know nothing,” she whispered back, her tone laced with defensive anger.

“I know everything.” Was he challenging her?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was she challenging him?

“You know what it means.” Yes, he was.

“Do I?” Yes, she was.

The two stared at each other for the entire tone shift in the stuffy interrogation room. The other profilers on the other side of the mirror had no knowledge of how thick the tension had just become because unlike Spencer, they weren’t standing in the middle of it.

Small sniffles were the only noise breaking through the quiet until suddenly, they just stopped.

“Ugh, fine! You win this round. My eyes are starting to hurt from all this goddamn crying. Do people actually cry this much when you arrest them?”

Spencer leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms to clearly convey just how unamused he was with the girl’s antics. She watched him intently, picking apart every move down to the muscle trying to search for any indicators that her little performance worked even a fraction of what she was hoping for.

And she got her wish in the form of the agent’s fingers tapping lightly at his sides under perfectly muscular, if she may add, arms, because any other movement would have been too obvious.

Spencer Reid was getting nervous, because the second her facade faded, he lost the upper hand. She just had to get him trapped in here.

“Oh come on. Not even a ‘good job’? I wasn’t expecting full blown applause, but some appreciation for that show would be nice.” Still, Spencer gave her nothing. He needed her to keep talking, and filling silence was a sure way to make certain she did just that.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know, but first you have to admit that I had you fooled for a second there.”

Lies:

“No.” Unexpectedly, instead of getting frustrated with Spencer’s refusal to play along, she just smiled brighter. This was exciting to her, and it was getting on his nerves.

“What gave it away? Did I look to the left before I spoke or something?” Spencer kept his mouth shut. “Come on, what’s my tell? Enlighten me.”

She copied his movements as Spencer leaned over the cool, metal table slightly, eyes racking over her face, lingering on certain parts for longer than others.

“No.” At this, she huffed back in her seat, leaving the close proximity that would later be used as a secret tool against the doctor before he had the chance to catch on. 

“If you’re just going to shut down every single one of my proposals, then why am I here?”

“You’re here because you’re a suspect in a series of 7 murders in the past 5 weeks.” She perked up at his words, amusement dripping from her features.

“Finally, Doc has something more to say than just ‘no.’ Tell me, was that so hard?”

“No.”

“Ugh!” Rolling her eyes would be giving ammo to the enemy, but the urge to do so was quite strong. In fact, she almost did until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the one way mirror.

“I’m serious when I say this,” she said, looking directly into Spencer’s eyes so he couldn’t accuse her of lying. “If you take the cuffs off, I’ll answer everything.”

“No.”

“Please! They’re seriously starting to hurt. I put 100% into that performance, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the-”

“Fine!” Spencer stood up carefully, not walking around the table until he was certain the girl wasn’t a flight risk, or worse. When he did finally make his way over, she sat completely still, not taking her eyes off where his fingers grazed hers as the handcuffs unlocked.

A breath of relief escaped her as she rubbed her wrists with the opposite hands, eventually feeling the blood fully return to all 10 fingers.

“Thank you.” It was so vulnerable and raw that it knocked Spencer back for a second. They locked eyes, and something deeper than he was ready for passed between them.

He didn’t know what it was, all he knew was that he hated it so much that he tore his eyes away immediately to return back to his original spot seated across from her.

“Answer me this-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Neither of them spoke for far too much time, and Spencer was growing more annoyed by the second.

“What?” It came out harsh, and mean, and downright cruel, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh nothing, I just wasn’t going to answer anything. I really just wanted to fix my hair.” And, in being true to her words this time, she secured her hair into a messy bun using the elastic Spencer didn’t even realize was missing from his wrist.

“I’m putting the cuffs back on.”

“No wait,” she pleaded, halting Spencer’s move to get up. “They really did hurt, I wasn’t lying about that.”

“I don’t care.” He made his way over, forcefully grabbing both of her wrists before securing the handcuffs back on. Spencer only regretted his actions slightly when she winced at the metal now back to pressing into her skin.

“Yes you do. It’s your biggest flaw.” Instead of answering, Spencer just returned to his seat, leaning back with crossed arms. He didn’t need to listen to a psychopath tell him his flaws.

“You care too much,” she continued, not minding if he was listening or not. “It gets you hurt, other people hurt. I wish that wasn’t the case. You deserve better, Doc.”

Spencer didn’t engage, opting to gawk tiredly at the suspect, and watch the way her eyes flicker across his features, gauging for a reaction. She wasn’t done.

“Hey, okay, fine. I’m just messing with you,” she laughed, finally breaking her serious facade. “What? A girl can’t joke around while she’s being accused of murder?”

“Accused? Or caught?”

“Accused.” It was final, her tone immediately dropping to a fiery rage. Her defenses were up, and Spencer was never really good at playing on the offensive team.

This time, it was Spencer’s turn to analyze, watching the way the blood rushed to her cheeks with her rising anger level. How all of a sudden her eyes lost their playful glint, giving him the chance to fully see the soul buried deep in them. For a split second, she was completely unveiled right before his eyes.

Spencer, clearly not anticipating just how long the girl in front of him could hold her own, used his last bullet.

He placed the crime scene photos in front of her.

“You know who did this.” It wasn’t a question, he saw it in her eyes. Spencer watched the way they remained stoic even after looking at the bloody walls, and vacant eyes of the deceased.

“No.” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Who are you protecting?” Her head shot up at his question, eyes flashing red before she blinked it away again. Subconsciously, she started to pick at her fingernails.

“No one.” It was a lie if he’s ever heard one. 

Fear:

“You’re lying. Who is it?” 

“I’m not lying.” She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. Instead, she gave her undivided attention to her shaky hands confined to the table.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Enough! Who are you protecting?!” At this, Spencer stood up and slammed his hands against the table with a strong amount of force that she flinched hard enough to further irritate her wrists.

He felt awful, the bouncing back and forth between them should have given him enough indicators that she wasn’t lying out of spite. But he couldn’t back down, he had her cornered and her only way out was to tell the truth.

“No one.” She wouldn’t look at him, even as she whispered. “Please stop.”

Spencer truly believed that he had her in a bind, an inescapable one at that, but it wasn’t the truth. Oh no, what the profiler failed to realize was she had him where she needed him.

“I have no information to give you,” she whispered before tagging along. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time she apologized for something Spencer could have seen as an inconvenience.

He believed her, too.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.” That was his form of an apology. Spencer wasn’t going to go any further with it, even if she was coerced into lying by whoever the true unsub is, she was still getting on his nerves.

Her hands were still shaking at this point, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Spencer just slumped back into his seat, settling into the silence between them until ultimately he was either called out of the room, or she gave him another indication that her game hasn’t ended.

A loud sigh bounced off the walls. “I don’t care that you yelled in my face. You think it’s the first time a man’s done that? You’re not special, Doctor.”

“I never said I was.” So the game carries on, but this time, she didn’t smile at his sarcastic response. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed a breath before continuing.

“You really want to be though, don't you?”

Lust:

She was pushing his buttons, trying so hard to dig under his skin till she was unremovable. She wanted Spencer to leave this room with her on his mind for the rest of his days.

She was close too.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer deadpanned, trying to keep a cool tone. If he continued to hand her the ammunition she needed, he would be left defenseless.

“Oh come on, loosen up. I was just joking.”  A smirk grew across her features, a thought crossing her eyes. One Spencer knew would not be in favor of his win tonight. “I could help you with that, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He did. Spencer wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that the woman sitting across the table wasn’t extremely attractive; she was. He just would never admit it aloud.

“I have a feeling you like to get rough, don’t you, Doctor?” She asked, sitting up and crossing her legs. The stare shared between the two of them was a mix between passion and anger, meeting in the middle to create a new kind of emotion.

“Is this fun for you?” She left out bait, and Spencer was stupid enough to fall for it. Emily once said that a pretty face slashed his IQ in half.

He couldn’t help but agree.

“Undo these cuffs, and I’ll show you what fun is.” She was toying with him now, and they weren’t going to get anywhere, but Spencer couldn’t find it within himself to get up and leave. She had him by the...

“I’m going to get that confession.” It was like he was five years old again, arguing on the playground with the older kids about how their insults didn’t make sense.

“What’re you going to do, punish me?” She asked, the last words in a hushed whisper. When Spencer’s cheeks grew hotter, and his eyes darker, she knew she had him.

“You do like to get rough! My, my, Doctor, you're keeping me at the edge of my seat here.” She let out a boisterous laugh before really digging the knife deeper. “Is that why you kept the cuffs on?”

Before he could snap back, the door flew open and Emily stood there with a tablet in her hand. “You need to see this.”

Spencer got up to leave, thankful for the reprieve even if he did have to return to the interrogation after speaking with Emily. He almost made it to the door before a voice called out behind him.

“Wait!” She called after him, the cuffs rattled when she instinctively went to reach for Spencer. “Aren’t you going to answer my question, Doctor.”

Playing chess his whole life, Spencer had never once played a game where Checkmate presented itself unexpectedly. He was always at least three moves ahead in his mind, seeing the inevitable end before he even began his gameplay. There was a first for everything, because his last move suddenly arose.

“No.”

_____

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