#almost made a comic for this idea but ran out of energy

[batboysoneshots]

Ears

Saw this cute comic on Pinterest and just had to write a one shot for it.

Summary: Little Robin (Dick) wants ears like Batman so he asks Alfred if he could make them.

Dick is 9 he's been Robin for a year.

Third person pov...

Batman and Robin were on their way back to the cave, they had just finished their patrol of the city.

As the Batmoblie zoomed through the dark streets of Gotham little Dick Grayson sat curled up a frown upon his face, Batman's cape over his shoulders like a huge blanket, he had a problem.

He wanted ears. Not actually animal ears no, instead he wants ears for his Robin suit, like Bruce has ears for his Bat suit.

The little boy loved Batman's ears, he loved to play with then when the man put him on his shoulders, and he thought they looked cool.

Pouting in his seat the little boy had a plan, innocent blue eyes light up. 'I'll ask Alfie to make me some'

Eyes swimming with happiness the young boy could not help but grin, next to him Bruce was confused at what made his partner so happy.

As they arrived home Dick flipped out of the car once it stopped, he then ran upstairs forgetting to take off his suit.

he was too excited to tell Alfred about his idea. Bruce watched with a slight chuckle as his son bounded upstairs.

"he'll come back down when he remembers" he says before turning to the Bat computer, he had some files to write up.

Once he came through the secret entrance Dick ran off in search of the Butler.

"Alfie!"

"In here master Dick" 

Came Alfreds voice, Dick grins and runs into the lounge, the man was sat on one of the plush one seaters, a small glass filled with whiskey on the coffee table, gentle classical music playing from the record player in the corner of the room.

Dicks face lit up when he saw the man. "Hi Alfie!" Alfred smiles back at the energetic child. "Hello son, what's got you so exited then?" he asks the child, Dick got even more excited he stood next to Alfred bouncing on the feet.

"Alfie can you make me ears!" exclaims Dick, Alfred is confused as he looks at the child in front of him. "What do you mean ears?" he asks, Dick then makes Bat ear shapes on his head.

"Like Bruce has for Batman, could you make some for me please?" he asks the butler, the action causing a laugh to tumble out. Alfred pats the boys' head. "of course, Master Dick" he smiled.

Dick gasps and climbs over the arm of the seat, clambering onto the man's lap, he then wraps his arms around the man hugging him tightly. "Thank you thank you!" he speaks, Alfred hugs the boy back.

A few hours of designing and sewing later. "This is so cool!" exclaims the boy as his twirls around in his yellow cape, now equipped with a yellow hood but with ears. Alfred sits in his chair watching as the boy twirls.

"Thank you, Alfie," says Dick grinning widely at the man, he loved his new ears. Putting away the supplies Alfred answers. "of course, master dick, why don't you go show master Bruce" he tells the excited child.

Dick stops twirling before turning to the old grandfather clock. Eyes wide in remembrance. "Oh yeah I'll go show him!" giggling the 9 year old runs off to the cave to show his dad.

Bruce was drinking his now cold coffee taking a break from the big screen and the files he was almost finished with, suddenly he heard someone coming down the cave stairs. It was Dick.

"Bruce! Bruce looks what Alfred made for me!" he exclaims running towards his mentor, as he turned around Bruce almost spat his coffee out in surprise, his son so to say looked unbelievably adorable with his new appendages.

The white eyes of Bruces mask widened as he saw the ears on his sons' head, Dick twirled so the man could see.

"I look like you now" he said giggling, Bruce took out a small camera he keeps in his belt (he has so much in there) and snaps a picture of the boy.

He smiles. "You look great chum, Alfred did a great job" he praises, the bundle of energy smiles back.

When Alfred came to check on the two, he them sat on the at the Batcomputer, Bruce in his bat suit, typing away at the keyboard.

With his brightly colourful son sat curled up on his lap, part of the black cape tucked around his shoulders, with his ears still on.

The end!

Hope you liked this one shot, I certainly do! As usual sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 816

[lilacmuffins]

"could you be my best friend?"

[oc-tober (day 6) - past]

did a little writing piece about april and kaia while they were still online bffs and not physically together or dating!! (title of this post is based on the song "online love" by conan gray, btw,,)

art below was commissioned by me from my best friend ever @muxhroom-marx-markiplier like two years ago, it's still my favorite drawing of them that i have on my computer!! (also shoutout he still does commissions and his art is wonderful go look at his post about that)

>> kaia hexum & april lang

i made these two in 2018 or something, back when i was forced to draw vocab word comics for my english class. they had this whole thing going on, and they were extremely in love with each other. they wear each others' colors because i only had like 4 colored pencils at my desk when i rushed through drawing the original comic,, then i kept them and used them for short story assignments and various other ELA things throughout middle school.

i love my girls, they've gone through so many cringe little phases of my life with me but they're still in love and that's what counts!! i don't give these two nearly enough attention as i should but shh it's ok i love them so so much still <33

little one-shot & prompts below the cut! lowkey the writing is not great but it's ok i wanted to get the idea out--

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When Kaia was a child, her mom didn’t have a lot. After her dad died, they lived paycheck to paycheck, scraping up money for food and some nights not getting enough. Kaia always ate, though, and she was raised by the family Windows XP computer that sat in the living room. The thing was on its last legs, but it still ran YouTube and Skype. That’s how she met April, originally stumbling across a “Reading Tarot for Beginners” video. It looked like it had been filmed with a microwave, and the girl with red hair looked like she was 13 (a year older than her). Kaia loved the energy of the video, watching the girl’s face light up as she talked about her tarot cards (they looked custom ordered, with cats and oranges being a major aesthetic). She left a comment under the week-old video, one of only three. “XxApril_WitchxxX”, the YouTuber’s username, had a lot of cute videos without many subscribers. Only nine, not including Kaia. It was like fate when April responded to the comment and DMed Kaia, asking if she had a Skype account. The two of them talked about April’s videos, getting closer when April started to do “lets plays” along with her other content. Even when she couldn’t afford to play, Kaia would watch and commentate in voice chat, just to have her new friend’s company.

Eventually, they started to talk about more than videos too. Kaia talked a lot about her friend, Tove, and her mom. She started to learn coding, with her awful computer. She learned how to make games that she could watch April play, games that would stump her and she could get playfully mad at her friend as she refused to give her the solution to the puzzles. They continued to get closer and call often until they were 16, four years had passed in the blink of an eye. Ms. Hexum knew April almost as well as she knew her daughter, at this point. One night, at the dinner table, she sighed and shook her head.

“Kaia, sweetheart, I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to pay the internet bill anymore. It’s getting too expensive.” She spoke. Kaia stared at her mother for a moment, not knowing what to say. Her little part-time job couldn’t pay it either, and April’s parents weren’t being very generous anymore with their divorce on the horizon and their daughter “refusing to get a real job”.

“Wait, so… I-I won’t be able to call April anymore?” Kaia asked, her voice cracking. It seemed impossible after these four years, even overseas the two were inseparable. Kaia’s mom put her head in her hands, she wasn’t sure what to say. Kaia didn’t blame her, of course, she knew it was hard. Still, she pushed her dinner to her mom, mumbling something about how she could eat extra tonight and walked to her room so she could call April (the computer had been moved to her room three years ago, or something like that). The two talked for hours about what to do, if Kaia could afford a phone so they could at least use Discord to text each other, but it was no use. A few days later, they said their goodbyes and the internet was cut off. Kaia cried to Tove, she thought she’d never talk to April again. That one day she would move on, start her life and forget about her. It took two years for Kaia to save up to the point where she was able to buy a terrible phone. As soon as she got past setting it up and kind of learning how to use it, she spent hours desperately trying to find April’s current Discord account. Her mobile data hated it, and her bank account hated the international call fees even more.

“Kaia?” April’s voice came through the speaker, crackling and not quite right. She sounded relieved. “How are you calling me?”

“April, I’m coming to Florida in a month. I have a ticket, it cost so much money. Mom helped me save up.”  Kaia explained, rushing to get it all out. She was hearing her best friend’s voice again after so long, it made her want to cry. “I can’t stay on the phone for long, it costs more money.”  She sniffled and reached up to twist one of the curls of her now blue hair around her finger.

“Oh! A-A month? I’ll have to get everything ready then.” April laughed, sounding just as close to tears as Kaia was. “I’m so happy to hear your voice, you have no idea.” She added. Kaia hummed in agreement.

“We can still text a little too, between now and then. No calls though, we’ll be together soon.” The blue-haired girl explained. They chatted for only a little while longer, and before Kaia knew it, she was up late packing her few belongings into a purple suitcase. This was the start to a new era of her life, and she was so ready to have April be there as a part of it. Only a month until she could see her and give her the hug she’d wanted to for so long…

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Prompt List:

[notstinky]

TIMING: Sometime recently idk who knows FEATURING: Felix (@recoveringdreamer) & Thea (@notstinky) LOCATION: The Grit Pit SUMMARY: With the help of a mysterious hair growth serum purchased online, Thea is no longer bald! With renewed confidence she accosts the coolest fighter ever (Felix) in the locker room. Unfortunately, there's something that's an ever bigger fan of Felix than Thea...

The Hair was bored. The Hair had tried pinching people during the match, but the imbecilic container of flesh it was attached to wouldn't stop squirming. The Hair demanded entertainment. The Hair was growing and growing minds needed more than just shampoo and conditioner. The Hair would find a way. But the hair liked the transforming cat person. As a cat, they had been covered in hair. The idea was appealing to The Hair. The Hair wanted that for everyone. The Hair would find a way for that too. 

“You were so cool out there!” Thea bounced in place, clapping her hands. “When you took out your claws and you went—“ Thea mimicked the actions of Felix, completely with comic book ‘swish’ and Wolverine’s ‘snikt’ sound effects. “You really showed that uh…whatever that thing you were fighting was… But you really showed it who’s in charge!” Thea beamed, technically she wasn’t supposed to be in the locker rooms unless she was cleaning them but if she went around authoritatively with her janitor’s cart, who was going to tell her she wasn’t allowed to talk to Felix? “I, uh, found this by the ring.” Thea reached into her pocket and pulled out a tuft of Felix’s fur. “I don’t know if you want this back to like… super-glue on your fursuit or whatever.” 

The Hair twitched at the mention of fur. As the inane conversation between the meat sacks went on, it lengthened down Thea’s back, curious about what mischief it could dip its split-ends into. 

—

The fight hadn’t been a particularly hard one, as far as Grit Pit fights went. It was a weeknight, so there was no need to up the stakes to draw in a big crowd, and the Pit didn’t want to ‘waste’ Wildcat by getting the balam injured before the weekend came and brought the more profitable fights with it. Tonight’s ‘work’ had been almost monotonous in a way — slash here, punch there. They asked Felix to play it up for the crowds, and they did the best they could if only to avoid the lecture that would come with disobeying. There were areas where rebelling made little sense; Felix would rather save their energy for the big stuff.

They settled onto the bench in the locker room, pulling their shirt over their head. Senses still enhanced with the jaguar close to the surface, they heard, smelled, felt Thea enter the locker room before she spoke and smiled as they pulled their head through the loose t-shirt. “Hey, thanks,” they replied. They didn’t really like the fighting, but it was nice to have a ‘fan’ when the fan was as kind as Thea. She wasn’t like the people in the stands who cheered when Felix bled on the mat — she was their friend. 

Reaching out hesitantly, they took the tuft of fur. “Uh… I don’t really need that back. But I appreciate it, anyway!” In spite of their claim and the fact that they really did have no use for the fur, they tucked it in the pocket of their gym shorts, just to be nice. “Um, did you change your hair? It’s — It looks cool.”

—

“My hair?” A flare of defensiveness ran through Thea, before she remembered that she wasn’t bald anymore—the miracle tonic she bought online had really done wonders! Of course, when she tried to look at the ingredients, it was just a winking face and when she tried to go back to the website, it was gone, but small businesses came and went all the time; such was the woes of capitalism. “Yeah! My friend cut it!” She had cut it a little too much, she wanted to say, but felt bad about it. Cass had done a good job and it was her fault for squirming around on the stool. 

But, at the mention of being cool, the hair waved all at once, as if a breeze had swept through the room. The hair was cool. The hair decided that it liked this cat person—no—it loved them. Did they need hair? They could have always used more hair. The hair continued its descent and slithered up towards Felix’s bag. 

“Your hair’s pretty cool too,” Thea said, just to be polite. Mostly, it was covered in sweat. “Do you use gel or anything? Actually, when you put on your big cat fursuit, how do you get your fur all silky? Do you shampoo it?” Despite Felix explaining to her that the cat was a real creature they transformed into, Thea didn’t believe it. Rather, she had simply chosen to ignore that it had even been said and move on with her life as though there were no such thing as Lip Balms (she’d purposefully forgotten the word Felix used) or girls that turned into wolves. She thought she was doing a pretty good job of it; denial was her strongest skill. 

Meanwhile, the hair decided it enjoyed Felix’s stink. It didn’t have a nose—it was hair—but that didn’t matter. The hair knew good stink. The hair curled into Felix’s bag, spreading itself in the smell. 

—

“Well they, uh… They did a really good job,” Felix said, offering Thea a thumbs up. Growing up, one of their sisters had been incredibly self conscious. They remembered how every change to her appearance had seen the entire house holding their breath, waiting to see if she’d fall apart over it. Thea reminded them of her sometimes. Naturally, the inclination to ensure that she was happy with changes to her physical self existed just as much here as they had with Felix’s sister all those years ago. 

It wasn’t as if they were lying, though. Thea’s hair did look nice. It was… flowing, somehow, despite the fact that they were indoors and there definitely wasn’t any wind or anything in here. And it seemed like it was… growing? But that couldn’t be right. Hair grew slowly, Felix knew that. 

Reaching up, they absently rubbed at their own hair. It was sticking up in every direction the way it always did after a fight, when the mixture of sweat and blood turned it wild. Felix didn’t really know if the shifting had an effect on it or not. Did the jaguar’s ears mess up their hair when their body shifted back into its default state? They tried not to think about it too much. It was a little too weird. Which… might have been why Thea still refused to see the jaguar as anything more than a fursuit. Felix wanted to explain it to her again, wanted to insist that the jaguar was so much more than that, but they were tired, and they didn’t want to overwhelm her. 

So, rather than explain again, they only shrugged. Fiddled with the towel around their neck, wrinkled their nose a little. “I just wash it normal.” Felix figured the jaguar got clean when they did, since they shared a body and all. “Uh, normal shampoo. And conditioner.” 

—

The socks were especially stinky—deliciously, juicily stinky. They were like little grapes of stink, bursting with stink flavour the more the hair wrapped itself into them. The hair needed to have the socks; the hair wanted to possess that beautiful stench. 

“Really?” Thea ‘huh’ed with surprise; she’d thought different materials needed different shampoos. No one dumped Head & Shoulders on a carpet and no one would think of using Pantene on their dog. Well, maybe people used Pantene on their dogs, she didn’t know; she tried not to think about dogs. “But like, are we talking Herbal Essences? OUAI?”—which Thea pronounced as ‘ooh-ey’—“Old Spice? Don’t say Irish Springs. If you say Irish Springs I’m going to lose respect for you.” Thea tried to sniff the air but regretted it the moment she did as a marching band of scents paraded into her nose and shot up into her brain. There was sweat, sour and stale; there was blood, sharp and metallic; and there was the sweet aroma of Bonbar shampoo, her hair’s signature scent. Her hair that was….

Aloft, clutching in its dark tendrils several spherical wads of fabric. Thea squinted. Was that…socks? “Uh…” She turned to Felix, sweating down her face and into her blue jumpsuit. “I think my hair is…I think it’s…” The hair was frozen, the only strands that moved slipped into and around Felix’s socks, writhing in the air like molasses in zero gravity. “Um…” She didn’t know what to say. 

—

They could have sworn they saw Thea’s hair moving, but they kept their eyes planted firmly on her face rather than look. It would be silly, wouldn’t it? Her hair moving around on its own. And if she’d just gotten it cut, she was probably self conscious about it, so looking at it — gaping at it — would only make her feel bad. The last thing Felix wanted to do was make her feel bad. They didn’t have a lot of friends, especially not in the Grit Pit. With things as tense as they were with Samir following the blue moon’s Razor/Wildcat showdown, Felix couldn’t really afford to lose any more allies in here. 

“Not Irish Springs,” they said quickly, wrinkling their nose. “That stuff smells so weird. Uh, I usually use Dove? It smells nice. And it’s not very expensive, which is good!” Technically, Felix could probably afford expensive, but why spend more money on something if you liked the cheap stuff just fine? They weren’t a big believer in spending money just to spend it the way some people seemed to. “What — What do you use? For your hair, I mean. It really does look…”

Their eyes finally drifted to her hair, and they blinked. It was moving. And Thea saw it, too. She pointed it out, and Felix followed the line of hair down, down, down, all the way to… their gym bag? The hair had Felix’s socks tangled in its ‘grip,’ and the balam blinked. “Is — Is your hair stuck in my socks? I don’t think that’s — they’re dirty. Dirty socks. Your hair’s gonna get dirty, I don’t — I’m sorry, let me…” They leaned down, moving to detangle the hair from the dirty socks in a way that hopefully wouldn’t hurt her.

—

In reality, Thea had no use for knowing what shampoo Felix used, it wasn’t like she was going to switch to their brand and smell her hair and pretend she was as cool as Felix, and that Felix was her best friend, and that they would go and get dairy-free ice cream together and, under those buzzing fluorescent lights, taking spoons from each other’s scoops, they’d discovered that they ordered the same ice cream flavor because they were just so similar; they were both so cool and normal and cool, especially. She wasn’t going to do that because she wasn’t weird, but she did think about it for several seconds longer than any normal person would have. She also imagined Felix in one of those Dove beauty commercials saying “I am beautiful” as the camera zoomed in on their soft hair. 

She couldn’t be blamed then, that when she blinked at her floating hair, she thought it was another vivid imagination fuelled by sleep deprivation. Her body ran on coffee and willpower, after all. But Felix could see the hair too, and Felix was touching the hair. Thea stared at the scene in front of her. It was probably a fantasy; any moment now, Felix would turn around and say she was cool, like in all of her best dreams. 

The Hair snapped around Felix’s wrist, sharp tendrils cutting into their flesh like metal wire. Those socks belonged to The Hair. It constricted, soaking up Felix’s blood as it wove itself around the socks, piercing the porous, sweaty fabric. It knitted new socks, ones that were equal parts hair and cotton-blend. The new socks dropped to the ground and the hair untangled itself from Felix’s wrists. The children—the socks—rose from the ground, spinning strands to form four appendages: two legs and two arms. From the writhing black cloud of hair still hovering, several balls of hair dropped like stones in a silky avalanche. 

At once, the hair-socks and the hair balls lunged at Felix, hoping to merge with their flesh. The hair-socks wanted to be on their feet—wanted to becometheir feet—and the hair balls just wanted to eat Felix—they were simple minded.

—

The hair wrapped around their wrist as they tried to detangle it, and that — oh, that was really tight, wasn’t it? Without thinking, Felix yanked their hand back, wincing when they remembered that this hair was, in fact, attached to Thea’s head. “Sorry!” They yelped, because the hair was tightening, and they were pretty sure it was too soon for their fingers to actually be turning blue due to lack of circulation but they swore they saw it, anyway. They really didn’t want their hand to be cut off by hair. It would be a whole thing, and it would be messy, and they’d probably get in trouble for only having one hand and it sounded like a whole thing, really. Felix yanked again, hand moving faster than his brain. “Sorry! Sorry, I’m — Thea, this is —”

The hair released him. The hair spat out a sock. The sock was made of hair. The hair sock had legs and arms and, oh, there was more than one hair sock, wasn’t that just — wasn’t that perfect? Felix stumbled back as the hair socks moved towards them, eyes wide. Hairballs joined them, the small army moving towards Felix.

And then, they were on him.

Felix let out an undignified yelp, falling backwards over the bench behind them and tumbling to the floor. There was hair in their eyes, in their nose, in their mouth. Curled up around their feet, and — was it biting them? They kicked frantically. “Thea?” Their voice was muffled by the hair. “Thea, uh — I think — I think your hair is killing me? Thea, can you — Can you stop — having — hair?”

—

Stop having hair? Thea almost screamed, the only thing that stopped her was the fact that she wasn’t sure if she’d ever screamed before; what if it sounded bad? What if her scream wasn’t like the girls in the movies moments before they got stabbed? Instead, she pouted. She thought that was a good enough replacement. “I’m not going to be bald again, Felix!” She’d done bald; tried it, didn’t like it, thank you very much but she was going to pass on being bald again. Anyway, if this was all a dream—which it was slowly occurring to her that it might not be—it didn’t matter if Felix died, they’d be totally fine! Right? “Maybe it just wants your fursuit? You have your fursuit around here somewhere, right? I’m sure it just wants to see the fursuit again…” Thea began pulling at lockers, trying to see which ones were unlocked and which housed Felix’s furry alter ego. 

The hairballs nibbled on Felix, like rats chewing through a wall to get to the other side, to get to the meat. The Hair knew that it was in love. It wanted to become Felix. The mother cloud, the writhing mass of Thea’s hair—still unfortunately tethered to her head—that birthed the hairballs, began a slow push towards Felix. In its angry black depths was the desire to engulf them, become them, show them the pleasures of hair. 

Thea continued to search for a fursuit that didn’t exist. 

—

Thea looked upset, and Felix felt a flash of guilt. You couldn’t just tell people not to have hair, it wasn’t polite. But — But they were pretty sure Thea’s hair was killing them. Yeah, actually, they were certain of it. It was in their nose, in their mouth, it was biting them. They could barely breathe, and Thea wasn’t really as concerned as Felix thought she probably ought to be. Did she think they were pretending? “Thea, I need — Please, you gotta —” But she was too busy opening lockers, looking for a fursuit that didn’t exist because it was Felix’s body, not a suit, they were a jaguar and a person and —

Wait. Jaguars had claws. 

Feeling another flash of guilt and silently apologizing to Thea, Felix let those claws push through the pads of their fingers, let their hand shift into a paw. They brought the clawed appendage up, slicing through the hair that was the biggest problem currently — the bulk of it attempting to enter their mouth and nose. With their other hand, they tore the hair away. Now able to breathe more freely, they began batting the hairballs away, looking very much like a cat playing with balls of yarn… if the cat was a half-person, half-jaguar hybrid and the balls of yarn were small balls of sentient hair trying to kill them. Totally normal stuff.

—

The Hair recoiled; the large, writhing mass, seemed to lose its luster as its children perished, turning into nothing more than cut strands on the ground. Still, if it could just join with its love, Felix, then perhaps…perhaps…. A world of hair was a glorious thing and The Hair’s mind was unable to move from the image of that jaguar in the ring. All that hair on that lean, muscular, killer body. It continued to move towards Felix, now looming above them. 

Thea watched, giving up on her quest to find the fursuit. It was obvious to her now; her hair wouldn’t stop until it had Felix or until Felix used their weirdly sharp nails to cut the hair up. Her gaze flickered to the strands on the ground and she sobbed softly. “Do it,” she said, looking back up. “You have to do it….” Tears continued to rain down her face. “You have to make me bald, Felix.” 

—

The hair just kept coming. Less intense now, almost as if it was grieving the loss of the bulk he’d sliced through and the hair balls that had been batted away, but still a problem all the same. Felix held up a clawed hand in a threatening manner, eyes shining gold as a little more of the jaguar came out. Of all the things the beast had ever swooped in to protect them from, this had to be the most… unexpected. The jaguar didn’t know what to make of it any more than Felix did.

Thea was crying, and the guilt swimming in his chest was almost as painful as the threat of whatever this hair was trying to do. “Sorry,” Felix said desperately, swiping at the hair again. “I’m sorry, Thea. I — I can buy you a wig! Or something!” Because they had to keep slicing through the hair as it came, and there was more and more of it on the ground and less and less of it on Thea’s head. At least it seemed to lose its consciousness when it was separated from her head and hit the floor, though whether it was ‘dead’ or not was hard to say. 

—

The Hair was dead. Once lustrous strands of black shrivelled into dried piles of pale string--gone was its colour, gone was its hunger. Gone was all that made The Hair.

Thea touched her head, pulling away chunks of pale thread that felt more like twine than hair. Under the fistfuls of dead hair was her pristine, hairless scalp. Heat flushed from her body, leaving nothing but the quivering husk of a girl. “A wig isn’t hair,” she sniffled, knowing in her heart that some wigs were made out of hair and that wasn’t a true statement and she should probably correct herself. She was too sad to bother with it. “It’s okay.” She glanced up at the blurred image of Felix, forcing a grin on her face. “It’s totally okay! It, um, it…” 

She wanted to explain that it wasn’t the hair. For a long time she believed that her hair was redeeming; people called it lovely; it made her feel feminine and normal. Girls had hair. Girls like her had hair. Girls like the sort of girl she wanted to be had hair. It wasn’t just the hair. Would Felix understand? It was the fact that nothing in her life ever seemed to go the way it ought to; not even something as silly as her hair. Thea sniffled. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” 

Dazed, she stumbled to the locker room doors, digging her blunt nails into the wall. She looked back at her friend. “I’m sorry about your socks,” Thea said. “I’m not going to process the fact that you don’t actually have a fursuit and might be part-cat for real because I’m at my limit for traumas right now. Also I’m bald. I’m bald and I’m sorry.” She turned away, tears soaking into her collar. “It’s not your fault I’m the way that I am: bald.” She had more of the magic hair growth formula at home, she reminded herself. Yet, the numbness rattled through her bones. Why? Why was she like this? What was it about life and living that came so easily to cool people like Felix but completely missed her? What was wrong with her? “I’m bald,” she said, answering her question. 

The door clicked behind her as she stumbled away.

[youre-in-the-psycho-circus]

Shandi | Two

Warnings: violence, abuse, hardcore action

Word Count: 1,738

Synopsis: The guys of KISS are on a mission from the Elder to find his Avatar in order to save their home Khyscz, and the whole Universe from the threat of the Destroyer. With the help of their powers and music, only She can help them defeat him and restore peace to the universe. An original idea based off of the KISS comics! 

Prologue | 1

Master List

Chapter Two: Almost Human

Ace had Beth stay the night to make sure she was going to be okay. He was worried that this ‘Wicked Lester’, as she called him, might’ve done something more to her than she knew. A human bestowed power by the destroyer surely had no idea how to fully control it. Any potential side effects of the contact that Lester made with her were surely going to show during the night if at all. Ace looked down at the female sleeping peacefully beside him. He ran a hand over her cheekbone smiling softly at the fading bruise. The bit of cosmic energy he let fall from himself to her had already begun to work its magic. Most of the swelling disappeared within the first hour she had been asleep, and at this rate, the injury would be but a distant memory by morning. Ace looked down at his hands as he sat up. The arcane magics and holistic sciences all grappling for a place within the Spaceman’s head were desperately trying to figure all of this out, more importantly, why it felt that the Elder’s energy was so close yet so far. He felt a surge of that power every day early in the morning before the sun came up for a few minutes but he could never pinpoint from exactly where. With Beth laying next to him tonight he could swear that he could hear a crackle of the elder’s magic speaking to him, but then again that very well could’ve been his ‘other head’ talking to him. He hoped that the others were doing better than he was. 

Ace rose from the bed, silently padding his way out to the living room. This couldn’t wait until morning. He stood in the centre of the room, gripping both hands into fists before closing his eyes. Ace was encased with a blue flash of light, his normal starry-eyed bedazzled Spaceman appearance taking hold. With another flash of light, the Spaceman found himself in the Bergen Street Lower-Level Platform once again. Spaceman sat on the edge of the platform concentrating for a few moments before one by one his colleagues appeared. Starchild was first as he stretched with a yawn. A very tired and annoyed-looking Demon followed with a grumble. Finally, a passed out on the floor Catman joined the group. “There better be a good reason this couldn’t wait until morning, Ace,” Starchild muttered as he wiped the sleep from his eyes. 

Demon stood grimacing at the peaceful Catman. As much as he wished he was doing the same at the moment, he was more annoyed than anything that he could sleep through all of this. “Get up you lazy asshole!” He yelled, kicking the Cat. 

Catman yowled, claws jetting out from his fingertips as he made a move to swipe at his attacker before realising who it was. “Oh Gene, it’s just you. I thought it was somebody important.” 

“Now listen here you…” Demon grumbled getting in the Catman’s face before the Spaceman’s blue magics forced the two of them apart.

“Enough. We’re just as tired as the two of you, now if you would just stop bickering we can get back to bed sooner. This meeting of the Order of the Rose will come to order.” Starchild grumbled as he stepped between the two of them. 

“Fine.” They both muttered. 

“What’s this all about anyway?” The demon raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms across his armour-clad chest. 

“The Destroyer. He’s here, on Earth.” Spaceman replied with a worried look in his eye. The three before him stiffened very slightly at the news. “Or rather his power is here.” 

“How is this possible?!?!” Catman yowled as he ran his claws through his dark hair. 

“You’re sure it’s him?” Demon raised an eyebrow at the starry-eyed man before him. 

“Twenty-five earth years on this planet trying to find the Elder’s avatar and this is the first time you’ve come across his power. Why now? How did you find out?” Starchild continued the questioning. 

“Beth. My neighbour. Her employer is an agent of the destroyer, bestowed with his power.” The Spaceman informed them as he recalled Beth’s story to them.

“Shit, I can’t believe that a mere human has control over a power like that.” Catman looked down kicking at a rock. “She’s alright, yeah? Beth?”

“Yeah, I had her spend the night with me to make sure she was alright. I could sense that some of Wicked Lester’s magic entered her. Feels like a mind control hex was hoping you might be able to pull it from her Gene…” The Spaceman trailed off as he looked down the abandoned tunnel. “That’s not all either.” 

“Don’t tell me. You found the mythical ‘Shandi’ too, didn’t you?” Demon retorted, rolling his eyes. 

The four stood around the Spaceman’s bed glancing down at Beth as she slept peacefully. “What makes you so sure it’s her?” Demon asked as the Catman sniffed at the air trying to see if he came up with whiffs of the arcane magics that supposedly possessed her. 

“I’m not entirely sure but I just sensed something when I felt the tug of the hex within her. The energy surge just felt so similar to that of the Elder’s.” Spaceman explained. “See for yourself.” He gestured to her glancing at the Starchild. 

“Wait.” Demon stopped him. “Lemme remove the hex first. Last thing we need is it bouncing off onto you.” He grumbled before he began to chant in a language foreign to the other three. His eyes turned completely dark as he thrust a hand toward Beth. The others looked on as a crimson mist rose from her lips into the Demon’s mouth. He bit down harshly before blood poured from his mouth. The demon smirked as he closed his eyes, licking at the blood as he opened them, revealing their normal state once more. 

“Is hex removal always this gory?” Catman grimaced. 

“Only the extremely demonically potent ones.” Demon chuckled. “This Wicked Lester, as you call him, has quite a connection to the Demonic powers the Destroyer possesses.” 

Starchild looked down at Beth’s sleeping form. He let out a breath as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, a purple beam shot out from his star-covered eye and scanned over the female from head to toe. Catman sat on the edge of the bed closing his eyes as if he were listening for something. “So is it her?” Demon asked, he was so anxious to get off this planet and kick some Destroyer ass especially after devouring that curse.

The beam retracted back into the Starchild’s eye as he finished his examination. “I don’t know, there’s definitely something different about her energy signature compared to the average human, but I don’t think it's ‘Elder’ equivalent. And even if it is, it’s very weak. No guarantees it’s coming from her, could be the remaining fallout from the Elder himself on your totem you’re sensing. Or maybe others from Khyscz came here before us and she’s a descendant.” Starchild concluded his analysis of the female.

“I don’t know Paul…” Catman grumbled as his head twitched ever so slightly, his brows furrowing in annoyance at the high-pitched whirring sound he picked up on. “I can hear the crackling of the Elder’s Starlight nearby. It always had such a distinct sound, nothing like it in all the cosmos. And the scent of it is quite potent as well.” 

“There’s no way to know for sure, but it’s our best lead on Shandi’s location since we got here.” Demon grumbled looking at the girl’s sleeping form. “Twenty-five long damned years….” 

“That’s only a year to us, though you’re right, Gene. For now, we’ll keep tabs on this girl…” Starchild started.

“Beth.” Spaceman corrected.

“Whatever, we’ll keep tabs on Beth for the time being while we continue our search. If she shows any signs of possessing the starlight, we’ll be ready to help her harness her true power.”

“So now we’re babysitting?” Demon rolled his eyes. “We’re Rock ‘n Roll stars, Cosmic Guards, and councilmen for the Order of the Rose, do we really have time for this?”

“For the time being, yes.” Starchild scolded. 

“Shockingly, I’m with Gene on this one Paul.” The Catman spoke up. “We can’t just be going around thinking someone is the Elder’s avatar. There has to be a way we can be sure or a way we can check at least.” 

“I’m not entirely sure, this would’ve been in the ancient texts in the Elder’s library back on Kyhscz, for obvious reasons we can’t go back there…” Starchild wondered aloud as he looked down at Beth’s sleeping form. 

Spaceman, always sensitive to the cosmic energies, offered his perspective. "We need to be careful. If she truly possesses the Enchanted Starlight, exposure to cosmic forces might awaken her abilities before she’s ready. We need to look for opportunities where her connection can naturally reveal itself."

Demon, the most pragmatic of the group, chimed in. "But we can't just wait around indefinitely. We need a plan, and we need to ensure that she's the real deal. Maybe we can subtly expose her to cosmic events or artifacts associated with the Enchanted Starlight to see if she reacts. If she is Shandi, it might trigger something within her."

Catman nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, but we have to be careful not to overwhelm her. We need to guide her, not scare her off."

Demon couldn't help but voice his concerns once more. "I still can't believe we're doing this. It's like we're placying cosmic detectives."

Catman let out a chuckle. “Cosmic Scooby-Doo.” Spaceman couldn’t help but let out a laugh himself. Their laughs were silenced as Demon let out a deep throated demonic growl. “Sorry…”

Starchild offered a reassuring nod. "We're navigating uncharted territory. The cosmos is full of mysteries, and we have a duty to uncover them.” Starchild's words resonated with the group, reaffirming their shared mission and the importance of their roles as cosmic protectors. They knew that the path ahead was filled with challenges and uncertainties, but their commitment to uncovering the cosmic mysteries remained unwavering. The four looked down at the sleeping female, blissfully unaware that her entire life was about to turn upside down in the most rock n’ roll way possible. “Beth's destiny and the fate of Khyscz rest in our hands."

Chapter Three: When Lightning Strikes

[perry-88]

I've been wondering, what is your Figment AU about? I LOVE JII and I've seen posts but can't quite piece it together. It looks o interesting so far!

What I have now is this:

Once upon a time, Nigel had an epiphany regarding his "imagination should be captured" thing.

What if he captured Figments imagination?

He knew it would be risky considering Figment was made out of thought energy.

Although, despite this, he made a machine just for this occasion. (Probably resembles that contraption from the comics I forgot)

And persuaded him to wear the helmet.

And sit down on a chair.

Figment didn't know why Nigel was so nice today. although he liked that Nigel was in a happy mood.

Figment agreed to all of this thinking it would be better for the institute.

When Nigel flicked the switch, Figment felt strange.

He felt an array of emotions, sounds, thoughts and ideas, so on and so forth.

But he felt like those feelings were being taken away from him like a vacuum.

He didn't like that, so he asked Nigel to stop the machine, but he felt tired, so he tried to take those feelings back to him.

It worked! But the machine malfunctioned and broke down.

Nigel was disappointed that capturing Figments imagination failed.

Then he remembered Figment.

He ran up to him and saw that he was lying on the floor almost worn out.

Nigel became extremely sorry for this and hugged him.

"Nigel... don't cry."

Figment said, Nigel being extremely happy about him being alive looked at Figment.

His eyes were different.

Yes, his eyes were yellow and big, but he definitely didn't have three different colored circles instead of dots for eyes.

"F- Figment" Nigel said concerningly.

"Yes?" Figment said unknowingly about his slight appearance.

...... Nigel was still shocked that he made Figment like that.

Figment was waiting.

"You've, changed."

"changed?" Figment was confused by this.

He started to fly and said to Nigel, "Could I see?"

"Sure." Nigel replied warily, feeling odd about Figment.

They both went to the Academys bathroom to see Figments oddity.

As soon as Figment saw himself he stared at the reflection feeling bizarre that this is how he looked now, hoping that it was temporary.

Nigel was worried that Figment would do something uncharacteristically to him.

After some time, Figment broke the silence.

"Do you think this will wear off?"

Figment sounded a bit strange to him but sounding a bit disappointed, he answered with a hopeful reply despite him not knowing what to do.

"I'm sure of it Figment."

***

And so tomorrow happens and Figment sees that his eyes are alright.

Nigel sees that and he's relieved that it was temporary.

It really wasn't.....

[tomswifty-fr]

Glitzi comic commentary (commictary?)

Hello! I was rereading it and saw on the last page I said I would “aaaaaauuuuuhhh ... post some commentary eventually.” Of course, I never followed up on that - until now! If you haven’t read it pls do - this will have spoilers. 

(under the cut - heads up this is very long and very self indulgent. i love talking about my stuff!)

I think I’ve mentioned this already, but the comic is heavily inspired by “A Promise in the Snow” by Stan Sakai, the 8th issue of the 1996 run of his comic series Usagi Yojimbo. It’s fantastic stuff, and a really good ghost story (technically a spoiler, but like... if you know my thing is based off of his and you know how my thing ends, you know).

I would call my version fairly different. Both in terms of things like length and setting, but other aspects too, some of which were planned and some of which happened in the writing/drawing process.

The two images of Glitzi dive-bombing the one bandit and breaking their neck and then charging the one with their neck thrown back were really strong in my mind since I started planning the comic. I needed to get across that even if she’s not the most physically powerful dragon in this scene (that would be the one who ran away), Glitzi is still very strong and is a trained fighter - unlike the others, who are probably opportunists attacking random travelers. She’s also dealing with a lot of pent-up anger and frustration since this takes place almost immediately after her falling out with Margaret.

So like, not a great place to be if you are opportunists attacking a random traveler. I tried to draw the survivor’s retreat as though he had to take a running start before he could get enough momentum to get into the air, tho I’m not sure how smoothly that came through. My personal headcanon is that most dragons need some kind of jumpstart and can’t start flying from a standstill.

  Tundras LOVE to sniff.

^^ Faces of horror and despair when she realizes there’s a kid involved. Glitzi has a very strong sense of responsibility and this is her thinking simultaneously “Oh no, no way can I deal with a kid right now” and “I have to do something, I just have no idea what.” 

Some subtle foreshadowing here - Teazel reacts to the mention of his daughter and also to the question of the pills being for him. They’re not, of course. Snappers are also way bigger than Tundras on site. Fun fact :)

This was originally supposed to be a longer scene, with Teazel regaining consciousness long enough to say some actual words and Glitzi agonizing whether it would be worth the risk to try and give him some of the medicine (what if it helped? what if it made it worse?), even though the label had been made illegible when it fell into the snow. I turned it into the one line because it wasn’t necessary, plus would beg the question of why Nettle wouldn’t speak up and say it was for her, actually.

I really love this little confrontation panel. It took me forever of flipping the sketch and going back and forth to decide who was going to be standing on which side.

I ALSO love this shot of Nettle pressed against Glitzi’s chest looking up at her, seen thru Glitzi-view(tm). I was worried it wouldn’t be clear what was going on but I do think it came out good!

And this too! The expressions are good and Nettle is cute.

(The plan to leave Nettle watching Teazel and go to bring back help isn’t a bad one - flying is faster than walking, especially walking over snow with a hatchling and someone too injured to stand up. But Nettle is right here. What if they come back?)

Glitzi’s abrupt agreement to bring Nettle and Teazel with her isn’t just her having a weakness for kids, but her realizing that she’s not going to win this argument and agreeing so as to not postpone the inevitable. Glitzi is stubborn, but only ideologically - she will gladly switch strategies or even cut and run than waste energy on a fight she knows she can’t win. It makes her a very annoying enemy since you can’t actually beat her; once it looks like she might lose she's already sprinting for the hills... and then she comes back, over and over, with new tactics until she’s finally ground you down or found one that works. So yeah, it’s not gonna take much to get her to say yes here.

The line about the snow stopping was added purely because I got sick of drawing the falling snow.

I wish I was able to add a longer beat between Glitzi and Nettle heading off and the last bandit showing up to show that some time has passed, a few hours at least, but I couldn’t figure out how if I wanted to keep that interlude to a single page. Hopefully the snow drifts get that across okay.

Bandit logic :) Also, does this imply that Teazel was alone? That Glitzi is alone now? Subtle foreshadowing?  

Glitzi spent too long up north (with Margaret) and lost her wintercoat (sense of purpose and camaraderie with the rest of her order) and now she’s cold (in a pretty rough place, emotionally).

It’s not really that deep. Or it could be, I guess. This was also originally a longer scene where Nettle interrogates her about her history, we learn more about Nettle’s parents who have a whole backstory that doesn’t come up, and Glitzi admits that she’s feeling a little lost, though not why. But again, it wasn’t necessary and I didn’t want to spend several pages on an ultimately distracting conversation where nothing happens except them continuing to walk through a canyon.

Instead, Nettle says that her parents are from up north but she’s never been; she likes the Icefield and is going to stay here forever! I think this might be a little heavy handed, but hopefully that’s mitigated by someone watching them from the top of the canyon - except that they were originally looking down at Nettle, until I realized that wouldn’t work and erased her, at which point I’m not sure how clear it is that it’s from above and not just Glitzi’s foot or something.

It’s the bandit! I’m just going to post several pages now because 1) I’m proud of them and want to show off and 2) I love drawing fight scenes.

This also owes a lot to Stan Sakai because I love his fight scenes! His drawings are super dynamic and very cool!

Anyway, bandit tries to do the same thing to Glitzi that Glitzi did to their buddy right at the beginning, but some snow gets knocked loose and she has enough warning to roll out of the way before her neck gets snapped. But it puts her on the backfoot immediately and even though she’s skilled, this guy is bigger, stronger, boiling mad, and hasn’t been dragging a Snapper for half a day.

(Tundra trivia time - their manes have one of the same purposes as lions, which is to give anything who tries to bite their neck a mouthful of hair instead of like, skin and bones and vital blood vessels. Everyone knows this so it’s not usually a common target, but Glitzi’s coat is a bit patchy and hey, worth a shot.)

Then an avalanche occurs.

Glitzi is concussed, bleeding from the head and battered from not only having a mountain fall on her but also getting beat up and bit. By digging her out and keeping her awake, Nettle saved Glitzi’s life as well as Teazel’s.

I went through SO many iterations of the design for this village. Way too many for something that is very small, in a single panel background, where everyone is gonna be focused on our unconscious protagonist instead.

The house is round! Instead of a fireplace, it has a coal pit set into the floor, and instead of a solid door it has a thick curtain over the entrance/exit. Nettle’s mom/Teazel’s wife is named Rein. She’s making soup because Glitzi is injured enough she doesn’t want to risk solids, soup warms up the drinker, and soup warms up the room. A perfect food!

And the ending... I’m not sure what to say about the ending. It didn’t take me the longest to draw but it definitely took me the longest to write and sketch. The two last beats in particular, of Glitzi putting her head in her hands and Rein walking away through the village, swapped places many times. They both had to be there, but it was hard to decide which would be the actual final panel.

If anyone wants more on that specific scene, ask and I shall provide but for now I’ll skip over it. It’s uh, pretty tough.

Epilogue: Glitzi stays in the village until she’s fully recovered, which takes a while. She immediately goes back north and does not spend much further time in the Icefield. This is the beginning of her “cynical and depressed” period. She does not tell Teazel or Rein about seeing their daughter’s ghost. 

Rein is a native of the Southern Icefield, who moved to Nature territory and met Teazel there. They were happy, but she always missed Ice territory and convinced him to move back with her when they their first egg so she could raise their first child where she grew up. Along with the messy and awful feelings of having one family member die and another almost die, she also feels like maybe if she hadn’t insisted on the move, none of it would have happened. Rein knows intellectually that it isn’t her fault, but it’s still hard. Teazel doesn’t blame her for any of it and supports her as best as he can. They manage to get along and consider moving back up north, either to Nature or somewhere else, but I don’t know what they decide. It’s a hard decision either way.

Here are their scries:

Thanks for reading this far and also thanks to everyone who read the comic when I posted it originally! It was my biggest comic project I ever finished and it really meant so much to see all the awesome comments and tags. To anyone who said it made them cry: sorry lol. I cried too 🥲

[knamjooned]

The Red Thread (04)

pairing: idol!namjoon (third pov) x fem!reader (first pov) genres: fluff, smut, angst tropes: soulmate au (red string), magical friends, overthinking and not solving problems

summary:

After a tragic event, you find a letter that gets you out of your comfort zone. Meeting Namjoon seems to be simple, but then you see the thread. The string brings about life changing decisions. Are you both ready for it?

chapter warnings: grief after death word count: 1.1k author’s note: first encounter :P

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~*~ If you enjoy this chapter, please reblog it! ~*~

READER’S POV

It wasn’t until the next week I had finished going through the bedroom. The boxes and furniture were where they were supposed to go and I was back in my condo in Nashville. I looked over the list my mother had left, absentmindedly playing with the locket around my neck. She only had four things left undone, yet they seemed to be the easiest of the hundred to finish. A part of me wondered if she really had left these on purpose knowing full well these were not the easiest for me.

Even though my mother and I had a lot in common, she was a social butterfly who enjoyed outdoors and trying new things. I tended to enjoy being alone inside my condo with plumbing and sticking to things I had experience with. It was almost comical these were the last ones on the list that she had suggested I do. I chuckled to myself as I ran my eyes over the other parts of the list, connecting them to memories over the last five years.

After reminiscing, I changed my focus to the clock, which told me I needed to hurry if I was going to make it to my shift in time at Landia. Thankfully, my supervisor was also an old family friend that wasn’t happy I was coming in so soon after everything. When I showed up, Hollie raised an eyebrow but let out a sigh and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Her bohemian-style long dress swished around her boots as she twirled out behind the counter and around the different racks that held tye-dye clothing, several types of incense, and collections of crystals.

She spoke to a group of women animatedly, probably showing off the artwork of moons, stars, and wolves she had made herself. I turned back to organizing the tall counter. It was early, so I wasn’t expecting a rush until later. After a few minutes, Hollie came back to stand near me as I rang out a few items for a customer.

“Are you sure you’re up to being here? It’s only been two weeks, less since the funeral,” she murmured, watching my face. She reached up and touched her necklace, a pink crystal wrapped in silver wire hanging on a thin silver chain. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and let it out slowly. The familiar atmosphere and routine calmed me, as this was a normal occurrence. Hollie liked to think it helped her get rid of dark energies and open her mind to more positive ideas. Hollie swore the pink changed shades depending on the energy it held, but I had yet to truly see it.

“Yes. I’m sure. Routine is something that keeps me going,” I reply, hearing movement near the counter. I turned, a calm, welcoming smile on my face. At first, I saw a strong, broad chest, and had to tip my head back to see his face. He smiled politely at me and dropped an armful of clothing on the glass top. His skin was the color of soft honey, and the light flex of his arm muscles caught my eye.

“Do you take online orders?” he asked, his deep voice resonating inside my chest. The feeling of physical attraction began to snake its metaphysical fingers around my heart and down my body. I’ve seen a fair share of attractive people in the store, so this wouldn’t be the first or last. Still, it was a surprise feeling after the turmoil of emotions I’d been feeling lately. It hit me hard and fast. I avoided his eyes to keep my heart from bursting from my chest. I cleared my throat as I felt a blush bleed slowly into my cheeks.

“Of course, we have some cards with the information on the counter here,” I answered, a little self-conscious about my rushed comment, gesturing with a quick hand movement before continuing to scan the tags. He had two of everything it seemed. Hollie’s presence appeared next to me, helping me focus on work instead of the hot guy in front of me.

“Hello, I’m Hollie Butler, owner of Landia Clothing and Gifts.” She bumped my hip gently under the counter. I felt her curious eyes glance at me as I kept scanning, then go back to the customer. “I also designed most of the clothing. Thank you for supporting local businesses. I’d be happy to take personalized orders as well.”

I did my best to keep myself busy, only glancing towards him as Hollie and him chatted when I knew he wouldn’t notice. I found myself looking at his butt, and had to turn completely away, face red. I saw a couple come into the store and made a beeline toward them to give myself space. After I helped them, I realized he had left. Letting out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding, I went to the back storage room to get a drink of water from the staff break room. Hollie immediately cornered me.

“You felt that connection.”

“I’ve had a lot of feelings lately, this one just happened to be lust,” I murmured, trying to step around her. “He’s not local, that probably doesn’t help,” I joked, returning her smirk.

“I happened to gather a few things about him,” Hollie kept going. “He’s your age, self-employed, very polite, and kept trying to look at you without anyone knowing.”

“Weren’t you just saying how it’s too soon for me to come back to work? Doesn’t this also go under too soon?” I took another gulp from the water bottle, thinking over her words. He was trying to look at me? Hollie had this gleam in her eye that was a little intimidating, which made me pause in between drinks. “What?”

“Will you let me do a crystal reading before you go home today?” She raised her eyebrows with a pleading look, making her look like a little girl pouting. I had done readings before with Hollie and had gotten the stereotypical answers that you always hear. The intense sparkle in her eye, though, made me very curious if this would be something different.

“Fine, just a quick one,” I answered. “Hollie… my mom…”

“It’s too soon for me,” she answered softly, the mood suddenly solemn. “Too much energy for me to control in that kind of situation. We’ll do some crystal gazing once her energies are more settled.” Hollie patted my arm, blinked away tears, and put on her store owner's mask before leaving the break room.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (901): Fri 6th Sep 2024

Well the last fortnight has been amazing with most of it being spent in Greece, sitting in the sun and making love to many many women but tragically it can’t last forever and today was my first day back at work. God Damn it! I’m going to try to stay positive but they’re almost definitely going to get us to work an extra day a week in the run up to Christmas plus if I want the three weeks holiday to Europe in May that basically means I’m going to have to go eight months without a cunting holiday in order to make up to required allowance. In short: the next eight months are going to suck donkey balls. This morning as I was getting ready in the computer room Lucy forced my bedroom door open, ran into the room then backed up and took a tumble down the hatch hitting every rung of the ladder in her way down. I immediately leapt down the hole expecting Lucy to be lying crippled on the floor but she was absolutely fine. Despite being fifteen she still has the energy of a cheetah and is apparently built like a tank as that kind of fall would have permanently disabled any other dog. When she finally does pass on (probably fifty years from now) I’ll have to donate her body to science to discover what made her so strong. Maybe at some point after she escaped from her abusive former owner she was walking through a chemical waste factor my and took a drink from a bright green puddle which has made her invincible. 

Tuned into tonight's Hollyoaks. I hope that when the time jump happens something goes wrong & JJ's torso gets left in 2024 & his lower half is thrown into 2025 Side note, I think I have a warped idea of what this "time jump" is going to be. For some reason I'm picturing the wormhole from 2001. Tonight featured the final appearance of Tom and Cindy who left a note on a restaurant notepad letting the other villagers know that Dave is Blue before leaving the village for her own protection. I don't see why she couldn't just text this to all her friends. Once she's far enough way from the village Dave won't be able to find her. Elsewhere Warren put together a plan to break out of prison and Ste said "You can't just break out of prison Warren". I mean, you can...Justin Burton, Theresa McQueen, Sam Owen, Mitzeee Minniver. Ste should really watch his own show. The episode ended with an inmate played by Rob Beckett starting a riot and a crooked prison guard played by Romesh Ranganathan helping Warren get out. I had to check the TV guide to make sure I was definitely watching Hollyoaks and not some weird Comic Relief sketch. A really enjoyable episode tonight and god bless Hollyoaks for giving Rob Beckett an Romesh Ranganathan some work because I was getting worried about those guys as it's been at least a week before they've appeared on a new TV show.

[tehamelie]

So I don't know where I got half of the stuff in this dream from or where I got the mental energy to make it up (I've been pretty exhausted with depression for the last month or so) or why Kill Six Billion Demons - it's a great comic, but not one of the three comics I'm currently rereading or giving a lot of thought. But still:

Me and about five or eight people from my high school class (I graduated 24 years ago, I don't always remember the distinction between the various people) were locked up in a room in a big house in a small town by Jagganoth, the Red God. I guess we had insulted him or been prophesied to fight him or something. Three of my mates were chained up, I guess because they were extra guilty.

Now, somehow some guard was taunting us by unlocking another prisoner's chains in front of us, I don't remember exactly, but it was very ironic when I was able to use the same gold key to free my classmates and unlock the door to the room. So we all took our bags and instruments (I had a long unwieldy string instrument of some kind in a crappy case without handles or locks) (I do not play any musical instrument, although up to about sixth grade the school tried to teach us to play recorder), and ran away. There was some incredibly dangerous shuffling on a ledge on a building wall several floors off the ground involved, where I had to go first and had to do it with my big, flat instrument case in a feeble grip between my side and upper arm.

Somehow it was a very difficult decision to prepare myself to drop the instrument if I had to rather than fall and die, but I made it across anyway and was jealous of everyone else who had cases with handles and that stayed closed. But anyway we got all the way back to our cars and were ready to get back to the school trip and then everyone decided we had to try and loot Jagganoth's house of everything we could load in the cars.

Possibly they were thinking more of trying to find a weapon to fight him but I surely don't have to tell you, dear reader, that would be an equally bad idea. Dude's literally invincible, and it's not like we had a way to locate Allison's resistance to help out even if we should manage to locate some piece of magical destiny loot and identify it if it did exist. I think I protesteth too much, but this was pretty much my thought process at the time.

And of course he spotted us walking into the front door of the house. Jagganoth here was using some sort of avatar form that was blue and only like three meters tall and walking around everywhere, it was ridiculously lucky that we managed to sneak out in the first place, I should have mentioned that.

But we split up and he couldn't catch everyone. Or at least he didn't catch me. I was able to shadow him and stay hidden in the many nooks and alleys between the many little wooden houses, though I kept almost letting him see me leaning around corners to watch him for no reason. At least I managed to look busy when he walked right past me standing in a narrow alleyway, but he still recognized me and turned back after going three steps.

In a movie it would have been a funny-scary moment. But at this point I was too angry to be scared. I had a whole speech forming in my head about how he doesn't get to be right just because he's tougher and stronger than everyone, and I tried to say something along the lines of you can kill me any time you want if you are scared of having one honest conversation. While he kept pretending to hit me and making me flinch, going "oh yeah? What did you want to say?"

Still, I knew I got to him. Bullies can't start thinking about how fear and violence is all they have cause they know it doesn't hold up against having actual arguments that can defend your actions. Okay, in my dream I clearly didn't remember the convoluted and ambiguous arguments he does have for why killing every living thing in the multiverse is just and necessary, this wasn't super clever of me. Just the usual things I dream of saying to bullies.

I should also mention this person appeared drawn in Abaddon's style. It seemed to make sense in some kind of otherworldly creature way.

Anyway Jaggy gave me some spark of power cause what else can the bully do but give you a chance to prove you'd be a bully too if you had the opportunity.

Now, as I feared, trying to write all this down has taken enough mental effort that I've forgotten the weirdly coherent way the dream held together as a narrative with more plots and intricacies than I can usually keep track of when awake. There was a timeskip. A soccer field filled up with courtiers to the god. I had to desperately figure out how to use my new superhuman strength to jump between buildings. That was the intriguing part, it was almost like flying, but a kind of flying I had to work for more than I have in any dream I can remember. Just barely making my jumps, usually having to pull myself up from the ledge by my hands, and knowing each time I could only make it by fighting the fear of failing and going for it, which made me super self conscious of how scared I was. . .

Unfortunately, I was so scared I woke up.

[hey-hamlet]

For 5 headcanons, if you’re still doing it, how about a heist AU for BNHA where the OFA holders are the heist team? Maybe their goal is to (re?)liberate Yoichi or to steal back Yoichi’s comic book collection from AFO, or just to do heist-y stuff against villains?

There are multiple ways you could do that - all very funny. My first idea was just the default "all of them are alive and well and roughly the same age, excluding Izuku" but. Ghost heist team.

One for All, as a quirk, isn't particularly overpowered. It allows the user to store their own strength for a rainy day - a few days of lazing around could be converted into some truly superhuman strength and speed, but managing the energy expenditure is a tricky thing to get the hang of. Its real utility, is the fact it makes ghosts.

Ghost is probably not the right word for it - but what else are you going to call a 'mostly incorporeal remnant on a dead person'? If they've held the quirk, as long as there is still a living being with One for All, the ghosts can stick around. They can store their energy with the quirk too, and use it to become solid for as long as they have energy.

What is a squad of ghosts and one or two living people to do, when they can't directly face their enemy in a fight? Steal all of his shit, obviously. Nomu? Nabbed. Tenko? Taken. All for One's suit collection? Claimed. Alliteration? Always. But seriously - anything that isn't bolted down (and... some things that are) is swiftly made off with by One for All's crew of deathless thieves.

Little Midoriya Izuku has been obsessed with heist movies his whole life - and especially enamoured with the vigilante team One for All who run the most elaborate schemes to get their hands on anything dangerous they think they can steal. Izuku learns sleight of hand from a young age and becomes quite the pickpocket - a thief doesn't need a flashy quirk! In fact, not having one is probably an advantage. You can't be tempted to use something you don't have.

Yagi runs into Izuku. Literally - he wasn't watching where he was going and almost tripped over the kid. He apologised and ran off as fast as he could - he needed to finish casing the area before the Yakuza came back. It wasn't until he made it back to base that he noticed his bag was empty. Clean empty of his plans, his phone, everything. Then he remembered the sweet-faced little kid he'd run into - the brat pickpocketed him!

Gran and Nana roasted the shit out of him for getting stolen from, especially by a child. Izuku only did it bc Toshinori was really suspicious casing out his neighbourhood and he wanted to make sure the guy wasn't like - a dangerous criminal or anything.

Izuku 100% gets invited to become Toshinori's successor, by Nana funnily enough. It takes Toshi a few days to stop pouting about the fact he got all his shit nicked.

[sugiwa]

small dreams

It took one 27 second long video for Keigo to fall in love

The video looped through every news cycle, and each reaction varied from outright derision to almost mythical awe emerging. On YouTube, it was viral in fifty-three different countries and Starburst—a name derived from a candy company that the pro-hero was fond of—jokingly tweeted that she was more famous than All-Might.

And she might have been thanks to the reporter that not only caught her decking the father of a girl she just saved but also recorded the subsequent twenty-seven seconds it took for three police officers to pull her off him and pull her away. The peace sign Y/N threw up as the police led her into a car probably didn’t help, nor did the live stream of her twenty-four hours in a holding cell while they investigated her claim of the man’s abuse and finally released her.

Though there were news outlets that tried to pin Starburst down as a hero on the edge of villainy, her public reputation hadn’t taken any damage. It was hard, after all, to claim that she did the wrong thing when they heard the girl’s testimony and pulled her medical records. But, Starburst—or L/N Y/N—still faced punishment from the Hero Public Safety Commission despite all this.

Attacking an unarmed civilian was apparently a big no-no—even if he was an abusive asshole. She was spared having her license revoked until she retested the simple principle that she had refrained from using her quirk. Her sentence was lessened to a month-long suspension with a strict patrol schedule in some city near Tokyo.

Y/N could work with it. She could put up with the Commission’s inane chatter for the sake of her job, but she drew the line at issuing an apology. It took three hours to wiggle her way out of a press conference to address the event. By the time her meeting with the Commission and sentencing was done, Y/N retweeted the initial video with the caption: Totally worth it.

Keigo was slightly in love with Starburst. Maybe it was the way she strolled into the Hero Public Safety Commission building fresh out of handcuffs and bluntly told them that she wasn’t apologizing and would rather become a vigilante than listen to ten more minutes of them debating the future of her career.

Or maybe it was the video which he’d seen a hundred times over, where she looked like a hero. The kind he’d always dreamed of as a kid, the kind who swooped in and beat the bad guy and then offered you stickers and candy and told you everything would be alright because it was exactly what she’d done for that little girl.

Either way, L/N Y/N was a hero who deserved a little rest, which was why he was currently tailing her patrol route and taking care of the problems before she could move. Her quirk was right out of a comic book too. The golden energy that left her capable of issuing an instant KO.

“Will you leave me alone?” she snapped, finally turning around to glare at him. She had a warm face, not made for anger which was probably why the glare fell away a moment later, replaced by a smile. “I appreciate the help, but I’m not offering any fanservice in exchange.”

“Who said I was a fan?” His wings flapped, feathers flying back toward him.

“You regularly stalk girls mid-air? That sort of thing does not fly with me.” Y/N laughed, nose scrunching at her own joke. “Get it…cause we both fly….”

He smiled innocently, “Thought of that all on your own?”

Y/N groaned, twisting her earring, “Just because I didn’t go to a fancy-ass hero school like Wet Jeanist and Flameo Hotman doesn’t mean I’m dumb.”

Slight insulted by the nickname she gave his favorite hero, he asked, “Flameo Hotman? You mean Endeavor-san?”

“Ohhh, that’s a man-crush voice.” Her eyes tightened with mischief, “I’m gonna have to dip since I got a hot date with my credit card. See you later, Chicken Little.”

He watched her go in slight awe because Y/N really was as crazy as the stories said. Starburst was a hero that had a bit of a cult following. She wasn’t high enough in the rankings to be wildly popular the way he was—up until she went viral, that was. A graduate of Ketsubutsu who went on to attend college before actually becoming a hero, she was on a watch list with the Hero Public Safety Commission.

Apparently, non-conformity was an issue…who knew.

A rain of confetti fell over Keigo’s head, brightly colored and all covered in specks of glitter. He inhaled deeply, turning to see Starburst’s grinning face as she eagerly clapped. Endeavor, like always whenever he was forced to be in Starburst’s proximity, turned around and stalked down the hall. Her confetti burned in his wake. Y/N’s voice followed him, offering an empty congratulations to the hero.

“How’s my precious senpai doing?” she asked, turning her attention to him.

“You really know how to annoy him, huh?” asked Keigo staring at the empty hall. If you gave Y/N too much attention, she ran with it. “What’s the deal?”

Y/N shrugged, rolling her shoulders confidently, “Some people are not equipped to handle true talent.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Keigo.

“I may or may not have drunkenly confessed that I had no idea who he was to a bunch of reporters during last week.” Y/N made a rude gesture with her hand. “I mean, if you’re not Number One, then do you really matter?”

“Harsh,” he ruffled his wings, freeing the last of her glitter confetti and letting it rain on the ground. “You all good with the Commission now?”

“All thanks to you! I owe you one, you know that?”

“Nah,” Keigo waved her off, resisting the urge to laugh as she made her bright eyes as wide as possible. “It was pretty brave of you. Plus, I think anyone would have done the same thing.”

Three months out of trouble, Y/N once again made headlines for ‘accidentally’ dropping a child trafficker off a building. She caught him before he hit the ground, but apparently, the authorities deemed the emotional damage a little extreme.

“They probably would have been a bit smarter about it, though.”

“Well, don’t worry, no one expects you to be the brains.”

Y/N pouted. “True.”

Keigo laughed. “What are you doing here anyway? You’re not in the top ten.”

“Is bullying the new rage these days?” Her pout grew, arms crossing over her chest, “Everyone’s got something snippy to say to me. Where’s Rumi when I need her?”

“Gonna hide behind her?”

“Fuck yeah.” Y/N nodded emphatically as she reached into her pocket for a pack of gum. She offered him a piece. “Let’s see how your chicken wings stand against her legs.”

Keigo looked at the gum and then her. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Wanna get something to eat?”

Her smile looked like the sun, “Thought you’d never ask.”

“So, what’s the deal with you and Dragonbreath?” asked Y/N, sprawling across his couch. It was the third time this week she was here. He should tell her to leave, but the words die in his throat in his mouth every time he tried.

There’s too much risk. Dabi’s listening in on everything he does these days, and he doesn’t want her anywhere near them. Not when he’s aware of what they’re planning. Not when he knows how Y/N would react.

She was rough and improper in everything she does, but there’s no one brighter or better when it came to genuine goodness.

Keigo dodged the question with his own. “Endeavor again?”

“Ran into him last week and got yelled at for ten minutes for getting in his way. The guy was in my path, and I’m the one getting yelled at? Next time, I’m drop-kicking him off his skyscraper.” She kicked her leg in the air, reminding him that she was scarcely dressed.

Was this what having a girlfriend like? Constantly jumping between fondness and horniness? He wasn’t complaining.

He heard this threat a million times. “Still mad about the fact that he has one?”

“I’m a simple country girl. I’d be happy with a peach orchard and some chickens.”

“Come here,” he crooked his finger at her. Y/N got up instantly, crossing the room toward the balcony where he stood. Her hands wrapped around his waist, slipping under his shirt, across his skin, over his chest. Too much and too little at the same time.

“You’ll get cold out here,” she murmured. He could sink in the warmth she offered.

“It’s nice seeing the world so still.”

A noise left her throat, wet and worried, “Hawks, whatever it is, whatever they’re making you do, I’ll be here. I promise.”

People joked about Y/N being dumb—he did it too often to count, but she saw more than most people did when it mattered.

“Why’d you become a hero?”

“Saved a cute boy once, and he gave me a kiss,” she said. He’d heard that story before. She offered it in every interview, never expanding on what boy or how she saved him. It was also a glaring lie.

He didn’t push her. He lied about too many things to count.

Keigo took her face between his hands—the urge to kiss that tiny speck by her eyes thrummed through him. It would take a thousand-thousand years for him to forget her face. Y/N turned, her lips skimming his palm, cold and warm at once.

He loved her because she was Y/N. Because in her, he could love himself and not grow cold from it. Because the numbness he’d always known leaked out in place of affection. He loved her boundlessly—above, below, and across—unhindered, without ill will, without enmity.

It was with her that he was Takami Keigo and not the current Number Two.

His hand cupped her neck, fingers tangling in the curls of her hair. Her lips opened under his. A trail of fire burst across his lips, and for a moment, he only knew the sweetness of her mouth. He drank her in, each breath, each hushed sound leaving her throat.

He would do what they asked and make the choices no one else could.

It was worth the world he dreamed of.

[idontblushsrry]

Itadori Yuuji Boyfriend Headcanons

A/N: Reader is from America and a black female. Idk why i decided to write this but I think that Yuuji would be a fun boyfriend lmao. I don’t entirely know what the reader’s cursed technique should be so lmk if you have any ideas. Until then enjoy Yuuji and reader being 2 idiots in love. Spoilers for all the eps of jujutsu kaisen up to about episode 11, nothing past that though as I want to finish the show first before reading the manga, so please be respectful of spoilers and label them (and tag if necessary) in the comments. Also srry if this cuts off abruptly bcus of the point the show is at. This is also like, all over the place but whatever.

(also sorry this was posted later than usual oops)

Word Count:  1943

This dork-

He is so sweet and kind and considerate 

But also a dumbass but also like he’s your dumbass

You and Yuuji are both equally stupid like bless yalls hearts

You and Yuuji met during his time at the Tokyo Academy when you transferred from America

The moment this man saw you walk up with Gojo-sensei he was smitten

Like your skin was glowing??? how???

And you had a slight accent but like he loved it too

And when you came up to greet him and shake hands you smelled so good and your skin was so soft

((He would later come to find out that the root of that was the shea cocoa butter lotion you used))

But yea mans was smitten and he is fully in love with you lmao

Will do literally anything you ask

You hungry? He’s prepared a 5 course, michelin star meal

Want new clothes? He’s been training for the day he could hold your bags for you

Ran out of hair products?? He’s already back with a special box of your products that he had imported from America

To this day you don’t know how he was able to get those products so quickly

He is loves when you tell him things about you from your day, to your times in america, to how your cursed energy works

Yall are the couple that does stupid shit together

Like one time you showed Yuuji one of those life hack videos and he was like 

“We should totally do that” 

And you were like “Bet”

Needless to say Fushiguro was very confused at the sight of bandaids on both of your fingers the next morning

“???What happened?”

“Well you see, I told Yuuji that I should use the glue gun because he didn’t even know where to put the glue stick. And he said nah, I got it and um yea so I fell and the glue gun was plugged in and then he tripped over me and so now we look like this.”

Gojo and Kugisaki thought that this was hilarious while Fushiguro decided that he’d store your guys’ glue gun in his shadows from now on

How yall manage to get through missions you go on together alive is a miracle

Speaking of missions, you eventually ask Yuuji what’s his deal because you feel a powerful aura coming from him but he never uses cursed energy, always cursed weapons

Cue Sukuna’s mouth popping up on the side of his face like “Hey mamas”

(You can’t tell me that Sukuna isn’t the type of guy to ask where his hug at)

“YUUJI WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!”

“Oh, I guess you haven’t met Sukuna yet, huh?”

So he sits you down and explains how he ate Sukuna’s finger and you're sitting there like ‘mhm mhm mhm, sorry you what?’

For like 3 days after he told you that you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss him just because you were processing the fact that Yuuji ate someone’s nasty old ass finger and would have to eat 19 more

And the fact that he’s the vessel of like the worst curse known to man 

During those 3 days, Yuuji’s pouting because he’s like ‘I fucked up, now she doesn’t wanna kiss me let alone talk to me because of this monster inside of me :(’

Meanwhile you’re just like ‘why would anyone eat some random mummified finger?’

Eventually you get wind of Yuuji’s bad mood and immediately, you rush to smooth things over with him.

You knock on his door and hear blankets rustling before he goes, “I’m not in the mood to play fight right now Kugisaki’

“Can I come in baby?”

You immediately hear the most comical almost cartoonish amount of noise ranging from a cup falling over, sheets falling off the bed, and what sounds like Yuuji falling flat on his ass before he opens the door

When he does, you’re laughing and it’s like the sky is no longer grey and the world is filled with color

You smile at each other before your moment is interrupted with Sukuna going “Finally, full offense, his whining was getting annoying”

You step inside his room and apologize for ignoring him, explaining that you just needed time to process things, explaining that you should’ve told him that before dipping

He just grabbed you in a bear hug and lifted you of the ground and spinning you around laughing happily, after all he wasn’t even upset with you, he just missed you

And thus begins the honeymoon phase of your guys’ relationship

Fushiguro is actually really happy for you guys and is the most supportive of your relationship but if anyone asked him to admit that out loud he’d actually apparate to the nearest marooned ship

Nobura doesn’t hate you guys but she thinks all couples are disgusting, so while it’s nothing personal, she does gag when you and Yuuji do so much as make goo goo eyes at each other

Gojo is actually like the main cheerleader of your relationship. 

He is the teacher that changes the seating chart to put students he ships together

He was always pairing you and Yuuji up on missions and placing you as sparring partners like ur not slick

If Gojo is the cheerleader, Sukuna is an actual antagonist

Like the man goes out of his way to CHOOSE violence

Like on time you kissed Yuuji’s cheek on a date and when you pulled back, your lip was bleeding and Sukuna’s mouth was smirking at you

Another thing he likes to do is tell you all of Yuuji’s simp^tm thoughts

Like all of them

Now Yuuji isn’t ashamed of how much he loves you and is in fact very open with it, but he doesn’t need Sukuna telling you that the only reason he bought x mouthwash was because it made your breath smell like “sunshine” and he had to see if it would work on him

Speaking of dates, good luck

Now I stand by the fact that Yuuji would never half-ass a date and things with him are certainly never boring

But he’s also like a country boy in the city and his tourist tendencies tend to get the best of him

Like you’ll be trying to find a spot to eat and when you look back Yuuji’s gone

((Prolly to buy another I <3 Tokyo shirt so you can both match))

He always catches up with you ad you eventually learn that but like the first few times be havin you ready to put up a lost child signal on the loudspeaker

He’s very sweet and this is where his thoughtfulness shines through

You and Yuuji plan dates in the same way one plays bingo

Like because you never know where you’re going to be r when exactly you’ll both be free (especially with Gojo-sensei and his bare minimum ass information) you two tend to go ‘ok well if we’re here we’ll go here and if we’re here, we’ll go here’ and so on and so forth

But Yuuji always remembers such little one-off details about you that make your dates.

Like you mention wanting to try a sushi train and he’s already scrolled through multiple yelp reviews and watched every youtube restaurant review like 9 times

But every high has a low and Yuuji and your’s low comes suddenly and it brings you crashing to the ground with no warning and nothing to slow your descent

When your class of first years were sent to exorcise the special grade cursed womb

When Yuuji’s hand got blown off and he told you to run you froze, your mind racing faster than your legs could even start

“(Y/N) RUN!” Yuuji’s voice broke you out of your fear-based trance

“I- I...can’t...I can’t leave you!” you cried out all your rational senses screamed at you to go, run, he had Sukuna and you were barely a grade 2 sorcerer. But your intuition told you if you left him you wouldn’t see him alive again.

You were trapped in a paralysis of indecision but the choice was made for you when a sticky tongue wrapped around your midriff and you were gulped into the mouth of one of Fushiguro’s frogs

“Goddamn it Fushiguro! Let me go! I need to... save... him.” You were outside the building before you could even finish arguing.

You glared up at Fushiguro but your eyes softened some when you saw how beat up Kugisaki looked.

He gave you this look that said he did what he had to do and he didn’t care what you had to say about it 

You and him waited in the rain for Yuuji or Sukuna to exit the building

You tried to focus yourself and save your negative emotions for your cursed attack

When Sukuna inevitably appeared, one finger stronger, you were fully prepared to fight him

However, he didn’t seem interested in fighting you and more engaged in fighting with Megumi

You tried to urge Fushiguro to wait it out, eventually Sukuna would lose control, but when Sukuna took Yuuji’s heart hostage, you both knew you’d have to fight

You and Fushiguro gave it your all but when Yuuji came back he still died 

It took all your strength to not completely fall apart after his death and the support from the second years as well as Kugisaki and Fushiguro helped

You’d tried to visit him at the morgue but Shoko only told you that she didn’t think it’d be a good idea.

You still slept in his sweaters and the things that smelled like him from time to time, trying to make the idea of him last, but after a month, the smell of him had started to fade

Everything about Yuuji’s memory seemed to become leached away with time, from his smell, to the wear present on things he’d given to you

You couldn’t help but feel resentful towards yourself but also to Sukuna, he’d taken Yuuji from you with the same care that one would throw litter on the ground

The pain in your chest didn’t wane either, it only became ignorable to a degree as training for the exchange with the Kyoto students became more intense

Fushiguro is a comfort to you as well, aside from you, him and Yuuji were the closest to each other and so he gets a lot of what you’re going through and doesn’t push when you become more withdrawn

He also lets you pet his demon dog too but when you ask him why he’s letting you pet it he just says ‘because no one would believe you if you told them’ lies

The bastard really just does it because he knows you’re sad and he doesn’t want you to be sad

Speaking of the Kyoto students, Zenin Mai and Toudou Aoi are permanently on your shit list

You’re relieved that Panda, Maki, and Inumaki came to your guys’ aid but like if you had your way Mai wouldn’t even exist

Anyways Maki has Panda physically restrain you while she tries to calm you down 

“(Y/N), you can kick her ass at the exchange!”

When you calm down, Panda puts you down and even though Mai’s long gone with Todou to go get his handshake, you make a promise that carries through the wind

‘Zenin Mai, pray that the next time you run across me I’m feeling kind, because if not-’, the last word is lost as the wind picks up but Mai feels a shiver rack through her body that more than ensures your message.

[heymacy]

I love all those sentence prompts you just posted.😂 But I feel like the most appropriate one is probably:

“So why did I have to punch that guy?”

Thank you Arrow!! 💗

Ridiculous Sentence Prompts: "So why did I have to punch that guy?"

--

There were only a few things left in the world that made Mickey really, really angry.

The first was their property manager, Melanie, and her stupid-ass dog with its stupid, stupid diaper.

The second was the fact that a single can of beer cost four times more on the West Side than it did back in their old neighborhood. What special brand of bullshit were these crunchy granola hippies trying to churn out at the Wine, Etc. store, anyway?

The third thing, and probably the only one that would stick around after he adjusted to his new life above the poverty line, was any time that anyone disrespected, hurt, or even mildly annoyed his husband.

Every time they dealt with an irritating client or an overzealous new employee, Mickey would clench his teeth and fight the urge to knock them on their ass. One hit was all it would take, he knew that for certain. He'd taken down Ian's exes, family members, hell, even Ian himself on a few occasions, with a single punch to the throat.

Now, he was an adult, a business owner, a husband and partner that needed to play by society's rules if they were ever going to crawl out of the gutter completely.

The very idea made Mickey's teeth ache.

He bit his bottom lip while they sat side-by-side in their booth at the Alibi, waiting for some schmuck to meet them for an interview.

"We need to start interviewing the guys we hire, Mickey," Ian had said one night while cooking dinner. He chopped the carrots and celery on the wooden cutting board while Mickey sat slumped on the couch, nursing a beer and watching a TikTok Mandy had sent him earlier that day.

He looked up at his husband as he watched an orange and white cat chow down on kibble after his automatic feeder malfunctioned.

Mandy 🌻 (6:09pm): plz tell ian this is him in cat form

Mickey snorted at his phone, barely registering Ian's comment.

"Mick?" Ian tried again, and Mickey looked up from his phone.

"Hmm?" he replied through a mouthful of beer.

"I said we need to start interviewing the guys we hire," Ian said again, using the knife to scrape the carrots and celery off of the cutting board and into the giant pot he had boiling on the stove. Mickey wasn't sure what he was making, but it smelled amazing.

"What for? Those resumé things ain't good enough for you?" Mickey's mouth quirked up on the side as he tried to hide a smirk.

Ian rolled his eyes and used the comically oversized wooden spoon to stir his soup.

"No, Mick. So we don't have another Connor situation."

Mickey snorted. Connor was a dipshit they'd hired back in April to help with pickups, a dipshit that had cost the company almost $2,500 after he "forgot" to make the deposit with Ian and Mickey at the end of his scheduled route.

"I mean, his name's Connor. Kinda feel like you should've known what you were walkin' in to with that one."

"I'm serious," Ian said. "Interviews. We gotta do 'em." He stirred the soup vigorously, the spoon clanking against the side of the pot with every twist.

Mickey sighed deeply and rolled his eyes.

"Fine, we'll interview some new guys. But we're not doing it at a Starbucks or some shit. I'm not ready to go full West Side." He scrunched up his nose and made a face, to which Ian just chuckled.

"Glad you're on board," he teased, getting back to work on his soup, which had started to bubble.

--

Kev and Vee had moved to Louisville a month before, transferring ownership of the bar to Carl and Officer Tipping, who promised to keep everything just as it was. It gave Mickey a sense of calm knowing that even as the rest of his old neighborhood was slipping away, his adolescent stomping grounds now littered with coffee shops and yoga studios, some things remained the same.

He ran his fingers along the familiar crack in the table, a sharp sensation prodding the pads of his fingertips and helping him forget, even temporarily, what they were there to do.

Ian smacked the back of Mickey's hand gently.

"Stop it," he said, referring to the way Mickey was two seconds away from giving himself a splinter.

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes.

"What's this guy's name again?"

Ian looked at his phone where he had an email pulled up. He glanced over the message then scrolled to the bottom.

"Derek," he said plainly.

"Derek," Mickey mocked, and Ian whacked him in the chest with the back of his hand.

"Knock it off," he said, and Mickey rolled his eyes again.

"Whatever. He's late anyway, let's just bail and go get some pizza."

"He's not late, Mickey. It's only..." he looked at his watch. "3:58. He's got three minutes until he's late."

Just then, as if summoned by Ian's voice, a tall, lanky, blond man walked through the front door of the bar and made his way towards the back corner booth where Ian and Mickey sat.

"You guys Ian and Mackie?"

Ian snorted as he tried to hide his laughter. Mickey rolled his eyes a third time, this time so hard that it was honestly impressive he didn't snap his optic nerves in the process.

"Mickey," Ian corrected politely. He nudged his husband with his elbow and the two of them climbed out of the booth to meet with their interviewee.

Ian shook his hand firmly.

"I'm Ian, and this is my husband Mickey." He smiled and turned to Mickey, who was standing with his hands in his pockets and giving Derek, all six feet two inches of him, an intense once-over. Elbowing his husband for a second time, Mickey relented, pulling his hands from his pockets and reaching out to shake Derek's hand. His giant palm was cold and clammy but also somehow uncomfortably hot. Mickey grimaced.

"Hey," he said gruffly. "Mickey."

"Derek," the other man said as they shook hands. "So you two are married?"

Ian nodded.

"Little over a year now, yeah."

Derek nodded.

"Cool, cool, cool," he said, nodding and looking around. "So this place is...interesting."

The judgmental and condescending way Derek said "interesting" wasn't new or unusual to either of them, but tall lanky blond bitches with North Side energy and a terrible fade saying "interesting" like they wanted to say "disgusting" made Mickey's blood boil.

He clenched his fist without even realizing what he was doing. Ian noticed immediately when Mickey's shoulders tensed up, stiffening in a way that reminded Ian of a startled cat, and he turned to climb back in the booth. He squeezed Mickey's arm once, twice, and dragged him down into the booth with him.

"It was a family friend's place," Ian said, nonchalant, eager to move the conversation away from the Alibi and towards their business. "So, Derek, on your resume, I see that you worked--"

Derek cut Ian off mid-sentence.

"Have they ever thought about turning this place into some sort of art installation or something? Just with the open floor plan and the exposed pipes, it's very pseudo-industrial-chic."

If they hadn't already assumed before by his distinct vocal fry and the smell of coconut hair gel, Derek's use of the term "pseudo-industrial-chic" solidified what the other two already knew: there were three gay motherfuckers in this booth.

Ian stuttered for a second, surprised by Derek's interjection and resistance to changing the subject.

"Don't think so, no." He grabbed his phone and opened up the Gmail app again. "So, anyway, your resume says you worked at--"

"You know what would be really cool in here? A movement class. I went to one in LA once that was hosted by Gwyneth Paltrow and it was liberating."

Mickey snorted and Ian elbowed him in the ribs.

"I bet it was," Ian said, unamused at Derek's refusal to talk about his work history. "So you worked at--"

"Have you guys ever been to LA? Oh my god, it's the best. So chic. I mean, I'm from Evanston originally, so basically anything is chic in comparison. I mean, not here, obviously, but you know. Other places."

Ian sighed.

"Totally," he said. "So, your work history, it says--"

"Hey, do you guys know what the best dispensary is around here? Preferably something upscale, with those iPads you can order on. I need a few new carts--"

"Dude," Mickey cut in. "Can you shut the fuck up for five seconds?"

Derek looked surprised, and Mickey could hear Ian's sharp, apprehensive inhale.

"Excuse me?" Derek said, holding his hand to his chest.

"He's been trying to ask you the same question since we sat down, and you won't shut the fuck up about chic cities and weed, so if you could just answer our questions, that would be great." He looked over at Ian, whose eyes were wide and hesitant, unsure about how things were about to unfold.

"You're very rude," Derek said to Mickey, giving him a scowl.

Mickey snorted.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Derek's eyes narrowed and his forehead wrinkled up, agitated.

"You should be nicer to the people you want to hire." He crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

Mickey laughed out loud.

"Dude, who says we wanna hire you? I'm pretty sure if you worked for us, I'd blow my brains out in the first two minutes."

Ian tried and failed miserably to conceal his laughter, covering his mouth with his hand and looking down at the table. Mickey leaned over towards his husband.

"I kinda wanna punch this guy in the mouth," he mumbled, and Ian side-eyed him from where he sat beside him.

"Please don't," he replied in a whisper before composing himself and turning back to Derek.

"Look, Derek, you seem like a nice guy, but I don't think this is gonna work out." He held out his hand to signal that the interview was over, but Derek didn't return his handshake. Instead, he pouted like a toddler that had just been scolded for bad behavior.

"Your husband's a dick," Derek said to Ian, and Mickey could literally feel Ian's body stiffen next to him.

"Hey," Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian's knee. "Forget it. Let's go get pizza."

"No," Ian said sternly, turning back to Derek. "Listen, dude, you're also kind of a dick, so why don't we just call this a wash and you can go track down your carts or whatever."

Mickey bit his lip, fighting a smile. He secretly loved when Ian got defensive, as long as it wasn't directed towards him.

"You're both dicks!" Derek said, slamming his hands down on the table. He slid out of the booth and stood up, and Mickey and Ian did the same. The three men stood there, Derek facing the husbands with a pissed-off expression.

"You should go," Ian said, pointing at the door.

Derek snorted.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. When the ad said South Side, I knew there was a good chance the owners were a couple of trashy, ghetto assholes. But him?" He pointed at Mickey. "He's a world-class dick."

Before Derek could say anything else, he was cut off by a fist to the jaw and dropped to the floor, unconscious.

The ambient chatter and loud clacking of billiard balls came to a halt as the regulars that sat scattered around the Alibi turned in unison to see what had happened. Once they identified the source of the loud "thud" as one of the Gallagher-Milkovich boys knocking out some blond giant, they immediately turned back to their various activities.

Just another day on the South Side.

Ian cupped his right fist in his left hand and turned to Mickey, bewildered.

"I just punched that guy, Mick," he said, genuinely surprised. "I knocked him out. Shit."

Mickey shrugged.

"He kinda deserved it."

Ian looked at Mickey with a really? sort of expression and shook his head back and forth.

"Still," he said, turning to look at Derek, sprawled out unconscious on the floor like a rag doll.

"C'mon man, it's fine. He'll come to, and when he does, we'll be long gone." He grabbed Ian's upper arm and gave him a tug, but Ian just sat back down in the booth.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, but Mickey knew he was talking only to himself. He sat down beside his husband, stepping over Derek's long ass leg on his way back to the booth.

"I mean, you kinda had to."

Ian looked over at Mickey, eyebrows raised. He stared at his husband for a moment, puzzling, before breaking into a smile.

"What?" Mickey asked, confused as to how Ian could go from having some sort of moral crisis over knocking out a hipster to grinning gleefully at his husband in a half second. Ian reached over and put his hand on Mickey's thigh. Immediately, the mood shifted. Pool cues squeaked as they were chalked up and glasses clinked on the countertops. The distinct chhh-chhh sound of a spray bottle punctured Mickey's ear drums as he looked down at his husband's hand on his thigh.

"So," Ian said, voice quieter than before. "Why did I have to punch that guy?"

Mickey smirked. He could be honest, and say the obvious reason, which was that Derek was a total douche canoe and deserved to be socked in the mouth by someone his own size. He could lie, and say it was because Derek seemed dangerous and Ian was just following his instincts, but that would have been the lie of the fucking century.

Instead, he said neither, and opted for something he knew would make Ian smile.

"Because you love me."

Ian's face broke into a full grin and he giggled, leaning over to kiss his husband once, quickly, well-aware of Mickey's hesitancy towards PDA when they were out and about on the South Side.

When he pulled back, he was smirking, and Mickey knew his cheeks were flushed. He hadn't been expecting the kiss, however brief it was, and his stomach felt a little fluttery.

"I mean, I'm not the kind of guy that just stands by and lets people talk shit about the man he loves." He grinned and Mickey rolled his eyes, remembering Ian telling him about the last words he'd said to Glittery Twink Byron the night they'd gotten engaged.

"You're a fuckin' sap, man."

"True," Ian said, standing up from the booth and stepping over Derek's leg as Mickey had done minutes before. He reached out his hand and pulled his husband from the booth. The two of them stood there momentarily, staring at Derek's lump of a body on the sticky, peanut-shell covered floor.

"Should we like, do something?" Mickey asked, kicking Derek's foot with his own boot. The man didn't move a muscle. Mickey wondered for a second if he might be dead, but the shallow rise and fall of the douche canoe's chest let him know that unfortunately, for all of humankind, the asshole was still alive.

Ian shook his head.

"Nah, he can sleep it off."

He reached down and took Mickey's hand in his own.

"C'mon," he said as he dragged them both towards the door. "Let's go get pizza."

[ohheyitsokay]

concessions

part 2 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francesco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.4k

warnings: none (yet)

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier baseball AU - trust me, you don’t need to know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, you run into the guys outside of the stadium and they promptly decide you’re going to be friends with them.

>>

Your friend was twelve minutes late. Not overly long but you could already tell what was going to happen.

It had been a long shot, anyway, an old classmate with little lasting connection. You had been trying to push yourself outside of your comfort zone anyway, why not? When she had originally reached out you’d been full of hope, enough to foolishly order your favorite appetizer as a ice breaker but the effort was in vain.

Fingernails gently clicking against the table, you caved and allowed yourself to look at your phone. It brought instant comfort, to escape the exposure of sitting alone in a restaurant, but you couldn’t stay. The air was cold as you sucked it through your teeth, weighing your options. The confidence it took to eat alone after being stood up was facing a strong competitor: your general policy not to waste good food and good money.

Shifting, you tried to settle, tried to pose yourself like you were in control, looking around the room as nonchalantly as you could. It was silly, your urge to keep moving, your feet on the ground, your hands on the table, your eyes on the other patrons, but you couldn’t help it. It was a nice place, nothing fancy, just a hole in the wall restaurant, filled only with a few locals.

Until your appetizer came around the corner, followed by a much more handsome man than you were prepared for.

His already smiling eyes met yours, and you looked away, startled, maybe blushing a little. He was familiar, too familiar. You tried to focus on the young lady waiting on you, and the steam coming from the plate in her hands.

Just focus on the food, you scolded yourself silently, thanking her and not ordering anything else. He was not your friend, he didn’t even know you, really. There was no need to make him feel uncomfortable.

Except, he wasn’t really worried about that, because he was sliding into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he was grinning, confident and friendly, and your instincts raised no alarms other than confusion.

“Hello,” you replied, wondering honestly if you were dreaming. This was one of the men you’d met before, in that chaotic, over decorated room in the baseball stadium. He had been in front of you maybe fifteen total seconds, talking to James, before melting back into the sea of uniforms and caps. There was no reason he should remember you much less… be doing whatever was happening now.

The man mistook your expression for panicked forgetfulness and reintroduced himself.

“I’m Ben, Ben Miller? We met a a week or two ago,” he was searching your face for recognition, which of course was not the problem at all. It was sweet, how bashful he was when he pointed to the picture of the team’s logo on the poster by your table, and mouthed “the shortstop?”.

It seemed like he wasn’t trying to draw extra attention to himself, which was almost comical. Even with his casual tshirt and jeans he was easily the most noticeable person in the room – that’s how good he looked, and a testament to the visible confidence of men like him. He was all limber muscles and strong jaw and kind eyes and it wasn’t easy to just tuck that away.

“I – yeah,” this was awkward. “I’m sorry for staring at you, I just don’t normally see … non-locals here.” You smiled, weakly.

There was something in his voice and a glint in his eyes as his blue eyes glanced behind you.

“Would you believe it if I said we were locals?”

All of a sudden his looks were commonplace, because there was another man next to him who was a little broader and a little rougher around the edges- but surprisingly similar in casual masculinity. The “we" clicked into place.

“What’s this?” the first-baseman said, his expression more or less mirroring your own.

A handful of other men followed him and you wanted to melt into the chair. It was too much, too weird. They were all peering at you, dark eyebrows and cool toned cloth stretched over broad chests and it was the most bizarre thing. You weren’t really shy, per se, but stuff like this didn’t happen to you. Fidgeting you stared back at them, feeling helpless.

Ben came to your rescue again, guilty, but far too friendly to stop, like runaway dog at a park.

“I was just telling her that Will and I are from town! And we love it here,” he grinned, winningly, still failing to explain why he was seated with you.

Their hellos were amused and charismatic, for the most part, save the man in the back. It was… Francisco. Or rather, Mr. Morales.

Your heart thumped the same thump that you’d been feeling whenever you thought of him.

His voice was quieter, eyes reaching into yours like he had questions to ask, before he fixed them on the surroundings instead. They were crowding the area, all tall and much to large to fit in between tables. It would have been annoying if this were a busier place.

“You guys go on, I’ll be right there,” the shortstop across from you ushered them away, out of politeness or something else you weren’t sure. It was sad, to see him go again but the absence of attention made you breathe again. You waved, sure you looked ridiculous, and wondering if other women would be dying to be in your stead.

“Sorry, I just wanted to say hi,” Ben seemed earnest again, and you couldn’t help but relax. It was charming, the way his eyebrows dipped and he fidgeted, just a little. “You looked… lonely,” he added, hesitating before standing up with a gentle slap to the table. “Come join us if they don’t show, I’m sure the guys wont mind!”

You nodded, still more or less in shock, and he walked off, strides long and easy, like there was hardly anything weighing on his shoulders.

If they hadn’t been but 20 paces away, you would have shoved the plate aside and replaced its spot on the table with your face, and groaned aloud. You barely registered your food as you ate, wondering at the whole thing in awe as you took out your phone again to text James.

-

Frankie tried not to watch you. He really did. He loved his friends and they seldom got a chance, just the five of them to eat somewhere so homey and casual, without the whole crew, or fans and cameras, or other things to attend to. They’d been close for a long time, happy they enjoyed one another and trusted one another more than the rest of the team. It was what made them so good in the starting lineup – their communication and comradery off field translated into their game.

For awhile he was doing well. He wasn’t watching as you finished your food, hardly noticed the way your hands ran through your hair, barely registered when you stood up, brushing crumbs off your legs, and walked towards the front to pay.

But he did notice when you slid over to their table and… he couldn’t tear his eyes away as your hand touched Benny's shoulder. The movement was smooth and gentle and there was a sharp feeling in his gut.

“Thanks for before,” your voice was quite, more composed than before, now that your feet were under you properly. It wasn’t meant for him, wasn’t his to hear, but he listened anyway. The group was seated at one of those round corner booths, and really, there was no escaping it – they were on the ends.

Benny was saying no problem and Frankie took a long sip of his drink trying to cool down before he was choking on it as his friend invited you to join.

The idea of you sitting here was… a double edged sword. On one side, the chance to talk to you, be around you even in the low lights of the restaurant neons – was too good to be true. His daydreams of you hadn’t slowed down nearly as much as he had hoped after you were gone. And on the other… of all the men here, he didn’t stand much of a chance. The flicker of warmth your little wave had given him began to fade and he tried too late to get in control of his facial expressions as you considered the offer.

When Redfly reached across Ben, though, shoving the younger man to grab your hand, suppressing the growl in his throat was more important than the glare. Next to him, Pope eyes were sharp, catching everything unsaid. His friend was as tense as he was, feeling the charged energy fill the booth.

Some ridiculous part of Frankie was wanting to pull you away, tuck you under his arm, and keep you all to himself. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t. He didn’t even know your name.

Then Will was pulling Tom back with laughter that didn't reach his eyes and Santi was apologizing, saying smooth words and coaxing you to reintrodunce yourself and pull up a chair and hang out.

Frankie would never know how Pope was so good at these things, how his passion made other people relent and reconsider and made them feel safe, but he was grateful for it. He tucked your name away, sure he wouldn’t forget it again. Especially because you pulled your chair up by him, and his heart swelled with something akin to pride as you leaned towards him, more than even Ben.

It could have been politeness, making room for the waitress, it could have been a coincidence, or that you wanted to be further from Tom, but he could quite bring himself to care. Having you close felt good, so much better than it should’ve, given the circumstances.

Even more than normal athletes, the Miller boys ate like they were hollow, and had ordered enough food for a week. There was plenty of talk and teasing and tossing of rolls, and it took you no time at all to settle in.

You found out you had some mutual acquaintances with Will, which helped, as you launched into comparisons of the town and laughed over shared observations. It made you feel at home, with him and Ben, and you understood how the brothers made everyone feel like family. Apparently there was girl Benny liked, who worked with the team’s athletic trainers. None of the boys had wheeled it out of him, but it took you less than fifteen minutes, your smile brighter as you sorted through his intentions.

Santi had a quick tongue, and you matched it. There was respect in his eyes as you leveled with Redfly, efficiently and effectively putting him back in his place. The older man head leaned back, nonchalantly, with raised eyebrows and low whistle, but Pope knew when Tom was embarrassed. There was an almost indiscernible bite onto the inside of the outfielder’s lower lip, a child’s tell.

He watched everyone, really, especially Frankie. They’d been playing together the longest and saw the best and worst of each other. It was fun, for him to watch his friend watch you. When you puckered your lips to suck a bead of water off your finger, Frankie’s jaw twitched. Like he was thinking of tilting his cheek towards you as you leaned in to kiss it – and Santi grinned, the gears in his mind turning.

For being as confused and awkward as you were before, it was crazy how well you fit.

Frankie liked your laugh, easy and pure, and the glint in your eyes when someone said something clever. He liked how friendly you were, even to Tom, and how you treated them like people. You never once stepped into the role of flirtatiously asking about the sport – or about being professional athletes all, and it was a breath of fresh air. Most outsiders would have their fingers tracing the curves of the muscles on Pope's arm as they asked him about pitching or would be tugging down the necklines of their shirts as they tried to be subtle about salaries. He liked how you talked about the food, asked them what they were up to that day, and actually listened when they answered. It was graceful, more that even Ironhead’s throw, how you managed to give each one of them attention, without controlling the conversation.

What Frankie liked best of all, though, was when yours eyes would meet his. They were narrow with laughter, and it was almost as if he were an hour away from know exactly what you were thinking. You’d lean towards him, just a hair, and under the thrum of conversations you would tell him little things, jokes or confessions like you were the best of friends.

When you murmured, “I actually don’t know anything about baseball,” he choked on his drink again, mind filled with unreachable moments. The boys were laughing at him, but he ignored it because they hadn’t heard you and... he could almost feel it – you against his chest as he showed how to swing a bat, your hand in his as he leaned in close, explaining, and him spinning you around in a victory hug.

All too soon the plates were being cleared and everyone was arguing over who should be paying. It made them smile, how earnestly you were offering, but there was no way in hell. 

You thanked them all verbally, but when Santi ended up paying, he got a quick peck on the cheek and that sharp feeling in Frankie’s gut returned with force.

As you left, before they could walk you out, you cherished the experience like a drop of honey on your tongue, confident this was a once in a life time thing, and excited to tell James about it. Of course you had texted him – he was the one who told you if you didn’t sit with them he’d never forgive you.

Then men behind you continued to talk, each silently thinking of their own reasons for being sure they’d see you again soon.

And when you walked past the window by the corner on the way to your car, a pair of deep brown eyes found yours through the glass. You waved, goodbye, and this time, the ache in your heart was aligned with the ache in his.

Thank goodness that old classmate never showed up.

<<

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms 

hey batter batter taglist:

@icanbeyourjedi

[kireijae]

rock, paper, scissors- n.jm

summary: some cute cabin weekend fluff!

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, humor

warnings: swearing, mention of throw up

words: 2,496

a/n: i’ve read quite a few like cabin weekend fics and so i thought i’d write my own! also i definitely don’t think hyuck would act like this irl i just needed some crack energy in this thing.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You huffed as you opened the creaky wooden door to the cabin. The air inside was slightly musty and all the windows and curtains were closed upon first glance.

You dragged yours and Haechan’s luggage (he’d won one of the rounds of rock paper scissors in the car ride over) into the cabin, setting it down on the first surface you found.

You turned around to find a very pale looking Haechan who was standing in the doorway, “You look like shit.”

“I breathed,” Haechan whined and pathetically stomped his foot on the ground, “But to be honest I do feel horrible.”

“Yeah, it’s from the fucking milk you drank,” came Jaemin’s voice from the doorway behind Haechan, “I told you not to drink the random milk you found in my car.”

“I lost rock, paper, scissors! I had to do it!”

“You suggested it, though,” you quipped, opening the curtains in the living room, “I told you it was a bad idea. And now you’re going to be sick the rest of the trip.”

“You sound like my mom,” Haechan retorted, lying down on the old brown couch, face squished against the leather.

“Yeah, I feel like her too,” you said, brows furrowing as you looked out the window, “Guys I think that storm is gonna be worse than they said...”

“Hm?” Jaemin made his way behind you to look out the window as well. The clouds were dark and sagging on the horizon and the wind seemed to be picking up fast.

“I’ll tell the others not to come unless we say so, they might get caught in the storm,” said Jaemin, his eyes still trained on the clouds as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Eomma! We’re gonna die in here!” wailed Haechan, a smile immediately replacing the distressed look on his face when you glared at him.

“You said this place had a backup generator,” you said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“It does, my grandma had someone around here come make sure it was working the other day,” as soon as Haechan finished his sentence his face scrunched up in disgust.

“You are not about to throw u-“

Haechan interrupted Jaemin’s words when he jumped up and ran down the corridor to what you assumed was the bathroom.

Jaemin tried to hide the giant smile that was pushing at his lips as you facepalmed.

“Why did you have that milk in your car anyway?” you looked up at him in question.

“Well it was strawberry flavoured, so I’m pretty sure it’s not even mine,” Jaemin said seriously.

You sighed and stood up to go check on Haechan. You found him lying starfish on a bed in the only room with an ensuite bathroom.

“You okay now?” you asked, sitting beside him and placing your hand on his forehead.

“I think the milk was a bad idea,” he said, not looking you in the eyes.

“Yeah, bub, I think so too,” you tried your hardest not to laugh at him, “Get under the covers I’ll bring you some water.”

After getting Haechan some water and finding him asleep when you got back, you and Jaemin settled in, each choosing the last two rooms with a double bed.

It was 7pm and the storm had already started knocking at the windows of the cabin. Your nerves were beginning to shake and gitter along with the trees outside. You tried to calm yourself down by watching some videos on your phone, but when a knock came from the door to your room, you jumped.

“Y/n?” you saw Jaemin’s wide eyes and glossy black hair peaking out from behind the door, “Will you help me make the bibimbap?”

You felt your heart beating in your chest from the fright you’d gotten, “Yeah sure, what do you need me to do?”

The two of you walked down the passage together, “Just cut up the vegetables for me, please?”

Soon the kitchen was filled with sizzling sounds and light music waving through the air, as well as the occasional and odd sound effects made by Jaemin. All of it was enough to distract you from the wailing of the wind outside.

You were in the middle of cutting the cucumber when Jaemin spoke up without turning away from the stove, “Taste this?”

You stood up and rounded the counter to stand next to him, he turned to you and held the metal chopsticks out, the meat balancing precariously between them, and he cupped his hand below it.

You ate it and smiled, eyes glossy from the slight heat of it. His food always was your favourite.

“Good?” he asked, eyes wide and his eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“Very, very good,” you said once you swallowed the food.

He smiled at you, the frown melting from his brow. His cheeks were slightly rosey from the heat of the stove and you could see how long his eyelashes were. It suddenly hit you that you were staring at him and you were standing way too close for comfort.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, though, you’d never realised how much you liked looking at him until now. Your heart fluttered when you saw his gaze drop down from your eyes to your lips like a small child unhesitatingly jumping off a rock at the beach.

You were about to inch closer to him until a loud crack made your body almost cave in on itself from fright. Your hands came near your face in fists and your eyes were crinkled shut.

You felt Jaemin’s arms wrap around you and he pulled you to him in order to calm you down.

“Scared of storms?” there was no judgement in his voice, only warmth.

“Not usually- just when the windows start to shake,” you huffed out a small laugh against the material of his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got a fright too,” he said as his hand went to stroke your hair. Then after a beat, “I think the food’s about ready.”

You took that as your cue to let go of his waist which you hadn’t realised you’d wound your arms around, but not before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Once he’d dished up the food, you took a bowl of it to the room Haechan was in, but turned around when you heard loud snores before you even opened the door.

“Still asleep?” asked Jaemin from his place on the couch, bowl in hand.

“Yup, and snoring. Very loudly,” you laughed and took your seat next to Jaemin.

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence, a random cooking show mumbling away on the tv in front of you.

After you’d both finished your food, you put on a movie you’d been wanting to watch for a while and Jaemin got some musty smelling blankets from a cupboard in the passage.

It was about 11pm when you started to drift off, you and Jaemin had wound up entangled together under the blankets. Your head had dropped down onto his shoulder and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Jaemin turned his head to the side when he felt you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. His soft chuckle woke you up, the bobbing of his shoulder being enough to catch your attention.

You opened your eyes lazily and felt your pupils adjust to the dark room, only to be met with Jaemin’s features mere inches from yours. The left side of his face had dancing lights and colours from the tv and the right was shaded in darkness. You had no more time to take in the view, though, because suddenly his lips met with yours lightly.

That had you wide awake. Your heart surged upwards in your chest and you reached for his soft cheek to bring him closer to you.

After a measly few seconds, the kiss was interrupted, much to your distaste, by the loud sounds of Haechan grumbling and dragging his feet down the passage.

The two of you pulled away from the kiss and from each other, you scooted as far away from him as you could. The scene was almost comical; the blanket you still shared had been pulled taut between the two of you.

“Did you leave any food for me?” Haechan asked in a half asleep daze.

Your chest was heaving and you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you, so you pointed behind him to the fridge in the kitchen in answer.

You were wide eyed as you gazed back at the tv, body rigid with your arms shrunken into your sides. You heard a light snort from next to you which prompted your head to look in Jaemin’s direction.

He was facing the tv, his oversized grey hoodie bunched around his torso and arms and his heart melting smile etched onto his face.

For the past few months you’d liked that smile a little too much- you’d liked everything about him a little too much. The thought of him possibly feeling the same brought even more blood to your already red cheeks.

“Scootch over,” Haechan’s voice pierced the little bubble you’d been in.

You made a dissatisfied face and moved back towards Jaemin again and when you placed your hand next to his leg in order to support your moving body, you felt his arm come around your shoulders. You cast your eyes down to the leather material of the couch and felt your cheeks warm up again.

Haechan paid Jaemin’s actions no mind; skinship being something you shared often with your whole group. His face was also practically buried in the bowl of food and only lifted when he heard a particularly loud gust of wind hit the window across from him.

Soon enough the adrenaline in your body dissipated and you began to fall asleep on Jaemin’s shoulder again.

“I think you should take her to bed,” Haechan whisper-yelled when he noticed you weren’t making comments on the movie anymore.

“And what about you?” came Jaemin’s voice from above you. The sound mixed with the slight rumble of his voice in his chest made you stir again.

“I just had a milk-induced coma,” was the next thing you heard from Haechan. He said it in a flat tone and it made Jaemin’s chest bubble beneath you in laughter.

“Nae sarang,” the term of endearment made you open your eyes again- more due to shock than from waking up. “It’s pretty late, I think we should both sleep.”

You nodded wordlessly and stood up, Jaemin catching the blanket that fell from your lap.

“G’night, Haechannie,” you said as you passed in front of him, ruffling his hair with your hand.

“Mm,” he hummed, “Sleep well.”

You wished him a good night’s sleep as well and walked towards the passage, but stopped when you heard Jaemin cooing at the other boy, “Haechannie! Are you feeling better now after your naptime? Saranghae- Ow!”

You giggled at the sight of Haechan manoeuvring Jaemin back onto the couch and sitting on the poor boy. After pulling them apart, you proceeded to your room where you got changed into pyjamas and lay down under the covers.

There was one problem now, though, despite the decent quality mattress and the perfect temperature of the room, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. The storm outside was still raging and your fear of it kept you up, staring at the ceiling for goodness knows how long.

There was a tug in your heart for comfort. The kind of comfort you’d felt earlier in front of the tv with Jaemin, and before that in the kitchen and months ago when he’d held your hands when you said they were cold. You sighed at the feelings and memories, deciding your pride was far less important than your need for comfort.

Soon you found yourself standing outside Jaemin’s room, your hand knocking on the door before you could think better of it.

You heard a soft “hello?” from the other side and slowly peaked your head into the dark room. You were surprised to see Jaemin’s phone lighting up his features in a blue hue, his hair was a fluffy mess on his head and he was resting with his head half way down the headboard.

He looked at you with his big eyes and you nearly melted, “I couldn’t sleep. The storm is…” you trailed off, not wanting to admit to being afraid.

Without a word, Jaemin lifted up one side of the blanket to welcome you. You smiled a small smile and crawled under the covers, your head instinctually resting on Jaemin’s arm. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close.

You felt him lean over to put his phone on the nightstand and shuffle down in the bed to lay his head on the pillow.

“Comfy?” he asked, voice light and feathery.

You hummed in response, your heartbeat and breathing had already slowed down enough for you to begin dozing off for the third time that night.

—

“We leave them alone for one night…” was the first thing you heard the next morning. It took a moment for you to register that it was Jeno, standing in the doorway wearing a thick black coat.

“When did you get here?” came Jaemin’s voice from behind you, you could hear that his face was scrunched from stretching.

“Hyuck called me last night after the storm calmed down,” Jeno leaned on the wall, looking at Jaemin.

“What time was that?” you asked, finally able to understand your own thoughts.

“At like 12,” said Renjun, head popping into the room before the rest of him followed.

“Junnie!” you yelled, holding your arms out to him and making grabby hands.

Renjun practically ran and fell backwards onto you, you put your arms around him and squeezed.

“Who’s making breakfast?” asked Jaemin, his arms completely removed from you now.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” you suggested, raising your eyebrows at him in question.

He nodded, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

It took a few tries, but eventually you and Renjun lost and decided to cook together.

“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten over your little crush on Jaemin?” asked Renjun as he cracked eggs into a pan.

It was just the two of you in the kitchen, everyone else either unpacking or playing switch in the lounge.

“I don’t think I have to,” you mumbled, cutting up tofu, “He kissed me last night.”

Renjun turned around in shock, but before he could answer you heard your name being called.

“I’ll tell you the details later, Jun,” you got up from your place at the counter and peeked out the kitchen and into the lounge, where Mark sat in horror looking at Haechan.

He then turned to you, eyes wide and mouth half open, “He drank fucking what?!”

if you enjoyed this, buy me a ko-fi!

© copyright jewelledtae 2021, all rights reserved

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.4k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

AO3 Link here 

Masterlist here

Their daughter enters the world squalling, tiny and pink and bloodied and somewhat wrinkled but healthy which is all that really matters), and Atsumu’s eyes widen before immediately filling with tears when the doctor places her in his arms.  

‘You did amazin’, darlin’ he whispers, running his finger against their daughter’s cheek reverently. ‘She’s perfect’. 

‘Make sure you count ten fingers and toes before you say that’, she manages to say before dropping her head back into the pillow, bone weary from her labour, and he laughs through his tears. 

They name her Shino, which means stem of bamboo. She reasons that if their daughter is going to take the Miya family name, she should in fairness have a name that represents her side of the family – and besides, she’d always been drawn to the whimsicalness of the tale of the bamboo cutter, but thought naming her baby ‘Kaguya’ might be a little on the nose. Atsumu’s grandmother isn’t terribly pleased, but her stoic father bursts into tears when they tell him, and immediately sends over a crate full of toys carved out of the bamboo from their family’s ancestral grove. 

The press has a field day when MSBY’s PR team releases news of their marriage and Shino’s birth, but thankfully the full weight of the team’s PR machine manages to twist the coverage to repackage Atsumu’s image as a wholesome family man, so the articles remain relatively positive. Still, they’re forced to sit through a number of photo shoots to keep the press happy, and she shudders at the office gossip she knows she’ll have to face when she returns back to work. 

His teammates crowd to greet Shino when she brings her out for one of their matches for the first time. Atsumu presents Shino proudly to his teammates - ‘look at what I made’,  he demands, dangling her in his hands so they can ooh and ahh over the little girl - ‘ I learnt it from one of  those kiddie cartoons I watched at night when she wouldn’t sleep!’ he tells her later when she scolds him for the precarious hold.

She has to shoo Hinata and Bokuto away when they try to hand Shino a volleyball, the ball looking comically big against the baby girl. Sakusa stands at a respectful distance away, but hands her an adorable onesie in MSBY’s black and gold, wrapped carefully in plastic. The corner of his eyes crinkle behind his mask when he tells her it’s so Shino can support them properly at their next game. 

‘Aww, Omi-omi! I always knew you liked me deep down inside’ Atsumu crows, bouncing on the balls of his feet and clapping his hands.

‘You’re insane to marry him’, Sakusa tells her, refusing to even acknowledge Atsumu’s tomfoolery.

‘Maybe I am’, she grins, warmth furling and unfurling in her chest. 

Despite her initial fears, Atsumu falls head over heels for Shino, and continues to allow their baby daughter to wrap him around her tiny finger. He wakes up without complaint for night feedings, spends nights pacing their little apartment coaxing Shino to bed, and straps her on his broad chest for what his pronounces ‘daddy-daughter’ adventures during the off-season when she’s away during the day for work. On weekends, they bring Shino to the park to watch the birds and the clouds in the sky, to the aquarium to watch the fish in the sea, and to the museum to marvel at dinosaur bones from a distant past. 

It’s at the museum that Shino says her first word, sitting between Atsumu’s legs in the museum sandbox, digging her chubby hands in the sand in search of fake fossils. 

‘Say that again’, Atsumu laughs wetly, pressing kisses to the top of their little girl’s head. 

‘Oto-san!’, Shino crows, the look on her face so reminiscent of Atsumu’s expression whenever he’s pleased with herself that she’s torn between feeling pride at her precocious little girl - and horror that she’s going to have her hands full with a mini-Atsumu. 

‘You’re daddy’s little girl, aren’t you, princess?’ Atsumu says proudly, and Shino claps her hands as he cuddles her close to his chest. He later tries his level best to empty out the museum gift store of toys to commemorate the day and she has to slap his hands from tossing in  ‘just one more toy’  into their checkout basket.  

‘Are you happy, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks him later, after they put Shino to bed. 

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ he asks with a puzzled frown. ‘I have everything I need.’ 

‘Just checking’, she replies, her doubts forgotten when he tugs her into bed. 

For Shino’s first birthday, both their families squeeze into their apartment to celebrate by strapping a giant piece of mochi that Osamu made to her back, a tradition to rid young children of any impurities. Atsumu nearly trips over himself trying to capture a photo of the auspicious moment Shino falls over on her butt, and showers kisses on her proudly when she does not cry. 

They also carry out the erabitori ceremony, setting in front of Shino several objects symbolising the various paths she might choose in the future. Aside from the common items like an abacus, writing brush or books, her brothers insist on including a knife (sheathed, of course), earning raised eyebrows of Atsumus’s family. Osamu tosses in a kitchen spoon and Atsumu naturally places a volleyball right in the center of the spread. 

‘Cheatin’ pig’, Osamu mutters when Shino ends up picking the volleyball (attracted by its bright colours, he maintains), but Atsumu ignores him, tossing the little girl in the air in delight.

‘Darlin’, come take a look at this! Kageyama-kun’s playing his first game in Rome, and it looks like - I can’t believe this, why does his technique look better than before?! What - is the water he’s drinkin’ overseas magic or something? How’s he getting so good?’ 

‘Tsumu, could you keep it down? I just got Shino to bed, and I really need to finish the work I didn’t have time to do ‘cos I took over her pick-up today’. She replies wearily, typing furiously at her laptop. 

‘Sorry. I’ll pop over to chat with ‘Samu then, be back late!’

She nods distractedly as she hears the door click behind her back. 

‘I can’t believe I screwed up so badly at practice today’ Atsumu grouses, chin propped up on the wooden countertop of Onigiri Miya in between mouthfuls of food. ‘I kept missing my serves, and then that asshole Omi-omi dared to laugh when I ran around trying to get my head back into the game –‘ 

‘Tsumu’. Osamu cuts in, setting another onigiri in front of him. ‘As much as I want to listen to you complain about your no-good, very-bad day, could’ya help your poor wife out a little bit?’ 

‘Thanks ‘Samu’, she musters the energy to give him a distracted smile, juggling a bowl of rice porridge she’s trying to persuade Shino to eat and preventing said little girl from smearing rice grains all over the place.

Atsumu plops Shino onto his lap, and continues talking over her head. She takes the opportunity to stuff her face with food –  glorious food, and doesn’t notice when he maintains a sullen silence as they walk home. 

A hush ripples across the stands like a tsunami when Atsumu gets substituted midway during the last set of the match. She isn’t surprised, not when he started playing badly during the set – there was a little kid that screeched just as he was about to serve, and he’d hit the ball way out of bounds. That had been the start of his downward spiral during the game – his dump shots got picked up, his blocks weren’t quite on point, and worst of all – he’d somehow managed to misjudge the timing of a toss to Hinata-kun, the ginger haired spiker looking confused when the ball missed his hand. 

He’d stormed off the court the minute the referee’s whistle sounded, frustration and anger written all over his face and she’d made a beeline for the locker room, tucking a sleeping Shino into her carrier. She can hear him yelling (at himself, most likely) and the distinct sound of flesh hitting metal, and is about to burst in to comfort him when Sakusa steps neatly in front of her to block her way. 

‘Sakusa-kun’, she greets him, eyes darting towards the door. 

‘Miya-san’, he nods at her, face already hidden behind his usual mask. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him just yet.’ 

She opens her mouth to object, but Meian Shugo, the team’s broad shouldered, good natured captain, plants a hand on her shoulder to gently steer her away. ‘It’s not a pleasant sight when he’s in a funk’, he tells her quietly. ‘Let us deal with it, we’re used to him. Do you need me to call you a cab?’

‘He’s my husband – I should be the one to deal with him’ , she wants to say – but doesn’t, because Shino jolts awake and starts to wail. ‘It’s fine’, she does say, hushing her little girl. ‘I’ll hitch a ride home with ‘Samu instead’.

She meant to stay up to wait for Atsumu, give him his usual kiss and listen to him talk about his day, but she’s out like a light when her head hits the pillow (it’s been a long day, in her defense) , and she has to leave in the morning for work before he wakes.    

‘Everyone has their off days, but you’re an incredible setter, you know?’ she does tell him that night over dinner. Shino squeals and smashes her hand into the bowl of food. 

‘Of course I am’, he frowns at her, almost as if he thinks it’s odd for her to even feel the need to say that, and turns away to ruffle Shino’s hair.

She waits by herself in the lobby of her office building for five minutes before she gives in to her impatience and calls him. 

‘Tsumu? Weren’t we supposed to meet for lunch today?’ 

‘Oh shit – I’m sorry, doll, I promised Hinata-kun that I’ll come in for extra practice today. I’ll make it up to you some other day, ok?’ 

She sighs through her nose. ‘Ok – have fun dear’, she replies reluctantly, and he ends the call before she can say any more. 

She can feel the gaze of her colleagues on her back, and plasters a smile on her face before marching off to her favourite dessert place, comforting herself with a box of mochi. She buys an extra box for Osamu (they had a specialty flavour just for the season, and she knows he’s been dying to try that) , and drops it off on the way back home. 

Atsumu complains about only getting one piece of mochi when Osamu sends him a picture of her gift – she can imagine him gloating even though the picture is unaccompanied by any text. 

‘You don’t even like chestnut!’ she scolds Atsumu, and he sulks. 

‘Tsumu! Could you come help zip me into my dress?’ she calls, checking her watch impatiently. The babysitter should arrive in five minutes to take care of Shino for the night while they’re away at the team’s annual gala party.

‘Yknow’, we’d get there a lot faster if you hadn’t sold your old scooter’, he tells her, as he steps into the room, immaculately dressed in his best suit. 

‘I told you – it’s not practical to keep a scooter around when we have a young child’, she answers, already weary of a conversation they’ve had multiple times before. 

‘I’m just sayin’, he says lightly. ‘Oof – sorry, darlin’, the zip ain’t budgin’. 

‘But it fit perfectly fine the last time I wore it’, she frowns. 

‘You must’ve put on some weight’, he says absently, the heat of his hand burning on her hip even after he walks away. 

‘Tsumu, seriously? I told you yesterday morning that we’re out of milk powder and diapers!’ she growls into her phone, cramming her way onto the subway. ‘Fine – whatever, you go for training, I’ll deal with it myself’, she ends the call, dropping her phone like a hot stone into her pocket. 

She runs to the supermarket during her lunch break, cursing herself for wearing heels instead of more comfortable flats, picking up two packs of diapers, a double can of milk powder, and a pack of wipes on discount - all things Atsumu should have picked up last night, but he claimed he was too busy with training and club events to pay attention to a simple errand like this – 

She’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t notice when her foot misses the curb and lands on her knees in the dust, the contents of her bags spilling onto the road. There are scores of people on the street but no one stops to offer their assistance, so she ignores the searing pain to pick her precious supplies up before they’re lost in the crowd. 

The blood from the cuts on her knees drips down her calves, and she limps her way back to the office.  

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Yuna-san asks with a curious smirk on her face when she heads back to her seat, eyes red, knees wrapped with white bandages. 

‘No, nothing like that’, she answers the office gossip, keeping her voice deliberately light. 

Atsumu only grunts when she asks him that night how his day went, kneeling down to greet Shino with a hug. 

‘Won’t be stayin’ for dinner, got a team event at night’, Atsumu calls out to her, one foot out of the door. 

‘What? You should’ve told me earlier, I’m already halfway through preparing dinner’, she shouts back, hacking at the vegetables on the chopping board with a vengeance. 

His only reply is a slam of the door, which startles Shino enough to cry. In her hurry to get to her daughter, her hand on the knife slips, and she cuts open her hand. 

The space beside her remains empty throughout the night, and she falls asleep pretending the only pain she feels is from the bleeding gash on her hand. She’s so exhausted she does not wake until her alarm rings, not even when the surge of rain overnight batters her windows and water floods the streets.