#and stop capping their chat

[phoenixcatch7]

Combining 'cap is presumed to be kryptonian' with the divine twitch chat with what the wiki calls straight up clairvoyance to create 'cap is assumed to be superman's ancestor come here from krypton millenia ago to protect and guide us'.

Because a) like superman, marvel is widely believed to have no secret identity at all - he bares his face entirely! He's a huge kinda dorky wall of muscle who never says anything worse than heck, everything about that stands out. It's assumed they jet off to the same place on their downtime, the famous fortress of solitude.

B) cap may not have a Supers senses, but between his almost precognition, his uncanny ability to pick up lies, his tendency to suddenly pause and listen to someone unheard before randomly jetting off, and his occasional one sided discussions that leave him with more information than he had before, it's pretty easily implied he has them (it's the chat piping in. He's gotten quite good at filtering out the actually important information).

C) no one really knows how aliens age anyway - and with magic, who knows what an already op hyper advanced alien race could do??? There's substantial proof cap has been around for MILLENIA, if you know where to look (that fact that a good chunk of stuff is Black Adam distresses Billy no end, but it doesn't seem like he left any trace of his evil doings (he rules a country, and ancient murals of you summoning hordes of demons to decimate the earth does not good pr make). He's probably immortal! He talks like he is, sometimes.

D) supes and cap get on really well! Almost... Unusually well. (the Internet reads too much into two dudes who aren't afraid of emotions finding unexpected kinship in their hero life.) there's definitely something else going on there and everyone knows superman is head over heels for batman so it's not that.

E) he's a captain! He's a champion! Apparently his home base can be accessed anywhere in the universe??? Like, say, another planet??

So why did he come to earth? Why did he really only emerge again now, after centuries of total radio silence? It was... Right after superman debuted... Well, give or take a few years, but what's that to an immortal being?!

A jl member brings up the rumours during a meeting and Billy nearly chokes trying not spittake at the justice league table. Superman blue screens visibly.

Then someone asks cap if he's sure his body is human, and??? IS IT??!!! The wizard would have said something, right??!! Ghost or not??

The delay is just long enough to make the gossip mongers interested.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

I LOVE your art first of all gahh!!

And i love the way you draw Charles like, did you just make this bald old man incredibly attractive????

thank you so much !! with that i always say I Draw What I See ... charles xavier already attractive nuff said tyvm i didnt do anythin extra.....

[ya-boi-haru]

Quixis: ok guys, they won't listen to me, but they'll listen to you. You have to help me, please!

Us (Chat): Of course! No problem!

*Fable trying to break through the portal in Icarus and risking their life in the process*

Quixis: YOU HAD, ONE JOB!

Us (Chat): WTF DO YOU THINK WE WERE TRYING TO DO-

[simgerale]

also

[todayisafridaynight]

i REALLY have to know why YK2 decided to put the fuckin twilight filter over everything and make every scene so damn green

[solitaire-dreams]

One of these pictures is not like the other

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[kyuujo]

↳ check yes or no

↳ sae itoshi x fem!reader ↳ sfw ↳ influencer!reader, established relationship, hidden(ish) relationship, going public, language, fluff + crack(?), jealous!sae, kissing on livestream, slight possessiveness, shat outta my ass ngl, my writing

↳ 1.3k words

↳ i’m sorry sae has me in a chokehold (i love it harder pls) and this little brain bug just randomly slid into my skull sooooo here it is! thank you all so much for reading and i hope you enjoy dahlings! <3

(y/u/n)fan1998: welcome back lovely!

switterz: good to see you again! hope ur feeling better!

emi44578: i missed you so much!

a smile pulled at your lips and your chest warmed at the multitude of messages flooding your livestream. your throat was still a little sore, but thankfully your stomach had stopped rolling the day prior, and you’d been fever free for twenty-four hours. you didn’t feel completely better, but you felt well enough to at least start a small stream.

“aw, thank you guys so much.” you croaked, voice slightly groggy and thick. “i’m feeling a bit better, but as you can probably hear, i’m not outta the woods yet.”

once more, messages flooded your screen, so fast that you could hardly catch more than a mere glimpse of one before it was pushed up by another. your fans seemed to be extremely pleased by your online appearance, and it made you so happy despite the sickness still weighing down your body.

you hated having to take time off, especially unexpectedly.

the chat slowed to a comfortable trickle as you dived into the events of the past week, starting off with how you even got sick in the first place. you had to tweak the truth a bit — after all, you couldn’t exactly tell your audience that you’d caught a cold by attending your boyfriend’s game alongside a snotty, congested child.

“… this kid was sneezing all over the place, and the mother didn’t even care to wipe his nose or the things he sneezed on. it was so gross.” you complained, receiving a fair share of agreements and sympathies from your viewers.

it was as you were berating the mothering skills of a complete stranger when something familiar caught your eye. a username followed by a simple message, one you’d seen time and time again.

(y/n)husband1: (y/n) will you go out with me? check yes or no

you forced out a small laugh and shook your head as you addressed the message. your skin felt tight suddenly, that username always putting you off just slightly.

“i’m afraid i’m going to have to check ‘no.’ i’m in a very happy relationship.” the same answer you gave every time.

there was a flurry of comments again, some berating the user who had even typed a message like that and others calling out cap on your statement. you were fairly used to that; you’d never even shown sae on camera before, so your relationship was as good as hearsay to your viewers.

“okay, let’s just calm down.” you chipped out, barely suppressing a cough that threatened to rip through your throat. “i’ll need to take some more medicine soon, so i don’t have very long. let’s do some q and a before i go.”

thirty minutes later and over two dozen questions answered, you finally said goodbye to your viewers and clicked off the livestream. your shoulders sagged with relief instantly, and you let out a small sigh.

“how’d it go?”

you startled at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts. sae’s voice was a smooth, seemingly uninterested rumble. you calmed your racing heart and hummed as you stood from your chair, raising your arms up to stretch out your stiff torso.

“not bad at all. they weren’t mad at me, at least.”

sae rolled his eyes as you ambled to his side, his arm immediately sliding around your hip as he guided you to the sitting quarters.

“so what if they were? the feelings and thoughts of insignificant strangers aren’t important.”

you clapped your palm over his chest gently and shushed him. sae was always blunt like this; but his words did remind you of something.

“oh. that reminds me. (y/n)husband1 struck again.”

you know you didn’t imagine the way sae’s fingers tightened on your hip. was it wrong that you took some pleasure in that? maybe.

“what did they say this time?” sae murmured a bit tightly.

you huffed and rolled your eyes. “the same thing they always say. ‘(y/n) will you go out with me? check yes or no.’”

“it’s incredible they don’t already have a girlfriend, what with that irresistible smooth talk.” sae quipped, pulling a giggle from your throat. you shook your head and wrapped your arm around his rib cage, stumbling slightly from the awkward position.

“let’s just go find a movie, baby.” you suggested, your statement quickly garnering sae’s agreement. cuddles late into the night were always your favorite; and you had a feeling they were sae’s too.

three days later, you were completely recovered and back to your usual streaming schedule. your viewers were quite happy with the development, and for the most part, it was smooth sailing.

well, except for the occasional whirlpool conjured by the appearance of (y/n)husband1. they seemed to strike when you least expected it, and always with the same stupid question — the same stupid question that earned the same stern answer.

even your viewers seemed to be becoming irate by it, as they expressed their distaste on multiple occasions.

switterz: why dont u just block them from your streams? they’re annoying!

(y/u/n)fan1998: yea they’re clogging up the chat log all the time! and harassing u!

you wet your lips and said, slightly timidly, “well, technically, they aren’t breaking any rules guys. the best thing to do is simply ignore them, like i do.”

a majority of the chat seemed to disagree, but you weren’t wrong in what you said; though they spammed the same message again and again, they technically weren’t breaking any of the rules you had set in place during your first few streams.

suddenly, as if on the drop of a hat, the chat began to flood with a different topic — one that seemed to have taken over the controversy of (y/n)husband1 entirely.

switterz: SAE FCKIN ITOSHI????

emi44578: why is sae itoshi in ur house?!!?!?????

jackerquack: WTF HELLO SAE

user193949294: DONT TELL ME YOUR BF IS SAE ITOSHI!!!!

usererror404: THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE THERES NO WAY

“what—?”

“i have to agree with the chat. you should block them.”

you swiveled around in your chair only to nearly touch noses with sae. your eyes widened and your lips popped open. what the hell was he doing? wasn’t his pr manager the one that insisted his relationship with you stay underwraps? just what was even happening?

there were hundreds of questions you wanted to ask, but in your pure shock you simply could work any past your lips; sae blinked once, then twice, before turning his eyes to the monitor in front of you.

“for those who have been wondering if she’s in a relationship, she is. with me. so no more harassment, or lying accusations.”

your heart was literally racing in your chest, your entire body frozen. sae was acting completely normal, as if he hadn’t just gone against every wish of his pr manager. you didn’t feel scared, per se, but the only emotion you could liken what you felt to was fear.

“demonking12 says they don’t believe it.” sae observed smoothly, eyes skimming down the chat. “and there’s some others who second that…”

you couldn’t even look at your screen — your eyes were glued to sae. how could he be so calm right now?!

sae turned to meet your stare of disbelief, and your stomach rolled when his lips quirked into the smallest, most mischievous smirk you’d ever seen grace his features.

“should we prove it?”

“um, what—?” you couldn’t even finish your blubbering before sae leaned in quickly and captured your lips with his — right in 4k!

the kiss wasn’t messy, or even sultry in nature, but it had your nerves lighting up and your cheeks flaring. sae’s lips were soft, warm, and almost commanding — it lasted a total of three seconds, but it was long enough to have your legs feeling weak.

sae pulled away but left just enough space between the two of you that you could see the sly swipe of his tongue across his bottom lip — as if he were collecting remnants of your taste.

“i’m pretty sure you’ve met your hour stream goal; time to entertain me, now.”

thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed! likes, comments and reblogs are by no means required but are so greatly appreciated! <33

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Breaking the Fourth Wall

Only, he’s not. He’s talking to the Divine Twitch Chat, but just to be a little shit, he’ll talk to them on some Dora type of nonsense. They eat it up cause they don’t know what Dora is. They’re just happy they get to interact with the stream.

A great example of this was when Billy got kidnapped by Sivana for the 50 million time. He got out of his binds, transformed into Marvel, busted through the doors and knocked out some guards. He was then met with a decision. He could either go left or right. Right lead somewhere unknown, and left lead to an exit. Time to consult the chat!

Marvel: *talking in Dora/Amanda the Adventure voice* “Hmm… What do you think?” *Turns to a random direction as if he’s talking to someone* “Should we go left or right?”

Solomon: “I believe it would be wise to go left, Billy-”

Heracles and Achilles: “RIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

Atlas: “No, stupidheads. That’s probably gonna lead him to robots.”

Mercury: “That’s exactly why we should go.”

Zeus: “I agree with Hermes.” *just wants to spite Atlas*

Marvel: “The votes are in! It looks like we’re going… right!” *starts walking right*

He in fact did run into a bunch of robots. But hey, at least he found Sivana. Back to jail he goes.

Also, someone recovered this footage from a security camera and they saw Marvel ask the question and just stand still in complete silence for a solid minute before saying the thing about the votes. They posted this online and he got called a schizo like twenty times over. Marvel was later brought in so Black Canary could have a little session with him.

Marvel: “Ms. Canary, I’m not crazy I swear.”

Black Canary: “Cap, I’m not saying that, but well, this footage suggests that you might have some… problems.”

Marvel: “But I don’t. Pinky promise. I was just talking to the gods in my head. That’s it.”

Black Canary: “Mhm. Mhm. I see. I see.” *scribbles down on notepad*

Marvel: *concerned* “What’re you writing down?”

Then, there was another incident where some guy tried robbing an old, homeless man that Billy knew. Marvel took him up to a building and let him dangle by his leg off the side of it. What could he say, the old man gave him a buck anytime he could. Billy’s loyal like that.

Marvel: *does the Dora/Amanda voice again* “Hmm… It seems we’re stuck with a decision.”

Heracles: “He’s doing the voice! He’s doing the voice!”

Marvel: “What do you think we should do?” *turns to no one again* “Should we drop him?”

Robber: “WHAT?” *stops flailing around*

Marvel: “Or should we turn him into the police?”

Zeus: “DROP HIM.”

Solomon: “Do NOT do that, Billy.”

Atlas: “I agree, drop him.”

Achilles: “Drop.”

Mercury: “Ooh! Ooh! Drop him, then catch him just when he’s about to hit the ground.”

Heracles: “I second that.”

Marvel: “Just kidding! This isn’t up for vote. Alley-oop!” *slings robber over his shoulder and flies to a police station*

Gods: “BOOOOOOOOOO”

The police report for this got leaked and now the residents of Fawcett got to know their lovable teddy bear hero dangled a man off the side of a building. Also, this is a recent thing by the way. Billy only started doing this about a couple weeks ago so all of the Fawcett citizens are so concerned because he never used to do this before. They’re all like, oh my God, is Cap going crazy? Point is, they’re worried.

One of their ways of showing they care that’s still fresh on Billy’s mind is when he was taking a dealer to the police station and the man offered him some of his stash because and he quotes:

Dealer: “Hey, man, you saved my kid brother from getting kidnapped. You’re good in my book. You gotta help people out especially if they help you.”

This stunned Billy a little if he was honest. He didn’t know if he should’ve been touched or offended. He was offered drugs, but I was as a token of appreciation. He’ll go with a little bit of both instead.

[heich0e]

thinking about single!dad osamu and little miya who calls you babe. the little guy is sitting in his favourite seat (his seat—as all the staff and regulars have come to call it) at the counter at onigiri miya one day after school. he's entertaining himself, colouring with some crayons that samu keeps behind the counter for him, while papa wraps up work for the day and chats with him.

but he's not particularly chatty today.

"hey, tiny," osamu calls, leaning over the counter to see what his son is working on. "yer awful quiet today."

he's barely made any progress on the picture of the onigiri godzilla destroying tokyo he'd been so excited about earlier.

"papa," his son says after a moment's consideration. "when's babe's day?"

osamu quirks a brow.

"babe's day?"

his son scrunches up his face a little, like he's thinking quite hard about it. "there's mother's day, 'n father's day. when's babe's day?"

osamu feels his heart squeeze in his chest, in affection as much as it is bittersweet. he's not altogether surprised by the question, considering father's day had just passed, but he's not sure he knows how to answer it either. he lifts his hand and adjusts his onigiri miya cap as he considers how to tackle the surprisingly complex question his four year old had put to him.

"well... there isn't a babe's day, buddy," samu starts, and immediately his son looks at him in abject horror at this shocking bit of news.

"but why?"

samu sucks a bit of air through his teeth. "well, not everyone has a babe. remember? we've talked about this."

osamu's son pouts a little. "but that's not fair."

"what's not fair?" samu leans against the counter on his elbows and cocks his head to the side.

"babe deserves a day too because we love her."

that pang in osamu's chest threatens to cleave him in two.

"yer right, buddy. we do love her, huh?"

samu's son bobs his little head in a somewhat sad nod.

samu reaches clear over the counter and plucks his son up from his seat, bringing him over to his side and resting him against his hip. the little boy grips his father's t-shirt as he clings to him, resting his head on osamu's shoulder.

"tell ya what," he whispers down to his son, bouncing him lightly, "how 'bout we make our own day fer babe?"

the little boy stares up at him with stars in his eyes. "really?"

"really," samu answers with a laugh. "you finish that picture fer her, 'n i'll get her some flowers, and then we'll make her breakfast in bed and take her out to do all her favourite things that day."

"when?" his son asks, wiggling excitedly in his grip. "when?"

samu racks his brain as he tries to recall what your schedule looks like in the coming weeks.

and then, in just the way you always seem to, you walk in right when they need you most. the bell above the shop door chimes signalling your entrance, and both of the miyas eyes go right to you—you smile brightly when you see them both.

"hi boys!" you call to them, waving as you approach.

"babe!" the littlest miya cheers, returning your wave excitedly.

samu leans down to whisper in his ear, quietly slipping onigiri godzilla off the countertop and tucking it away out of sight. "babe's day's gotta be a secret okay? don't spill it!"

his son nods determinedly, but truthfully osamu knows the secret is more than likely to be revealed before the big day. he smiles anyway, pressing a little kiss to his son's forehead.

little miya immediately reaches for you on the other side of the counter once you reach them, and you take him from his father's arms into your own—squishing him tightly before returning him to his seat and taking the one beside it (the one that now everyone has started calling yours.)

you fall into easy conversation with the two of them—samu stopping to chat whenever he can between customers—talking about your day and asking about theirs as samu serves you both your favourite onigiri.

"hey, babe," samu says as he sets a plate down in front of you, and you look up from the picture you and his son are making together with a smile and a hum. "you busy on saturday?"

he and his son share a secretive little look that's less than subtle. it makes you laugh.

"never too busy for you two," you answer easily, and beside you little miya grins.

"great," samu replies. "keep it free fer us."

a customer approaches the other side of the counter and osamu has to step away, but he can still overhear bits and pieces of your conversation with his son even as he goes about preparing a new order.

"...a surprise? for me?"

"mmmhmmm! cause we love babe lots and lots!"

samu laughs to himself as he tucks a small stack of napkins into the takeout bag, because his son couldn't be more right about that. he hands the takeout bag to the waiting customer with a smile, and turns to watch you and his little boy colouring away at your picture together as the afternoon light streams in through the shop windows behind you—nearly identical looks of concentration on your faces (though you don't have any stray rice stuck to yours.)

and he can't help but think he'd make every day babe's day if he could.

[oceantornadoo]

quiet hours (john price x f!reader)

there is a power dynamic but it’s discussed, price is a major simp, some time jumps

—

price’s office couch. a brown and beaten thing, a comfortable touch on the side of his desk. john himself had never used it, but kept it from the office’s last occupant, a buffer in case someone tried to cross over to his side of the room. that was, of course, before you.

it started when your leg was injured. he let you prop up your leg on the couch and somewhere during the twenty minute mark of your conversation, you fell asleep. any other solider and john would have reprimanded them, tossed them out, but you looked so peaceful, soft lips parted slightly. he left you a note, come back anytime, not wanting to risk the sting of rejection to his face.

it became your ritual. you didn’t sleep well at night but as a high ranking SAS member, you had some freedom in your daily schedule for occasional naps. he liked hearing your soft sighs as he worked, going so far as to keep a silk pillow for you when he heard you complain about your hair on leather. you chatted or you didn’t, always leaving with a small smile and “thanks, cap.”

even the rest of base knew 3-5pm were quiet hours, a small sign posted on his door. the couch wasn’t big and with the angle of the door, most people didn’t even realize you were in there when they popped in to ask a question. john guarded you like a dragon with his jewels, chewing out recruits for being too loud, never explaining your presence to anyone.

right now, you were sound asleep, your small sighs like john’s personal soundtrack to heaven. simon had knocked silently, asking some important question about an upcoming mission, and john huffed with annoyance knowing he had to leave you. he got out of his chair, carefully so it wouldn’t squeak, and made his way over to you. squatting down, he rubbed a gentle hand over your face, tracing your relaxed cheekbones and brow. “sweetheart, i have t’ go. be back in few.” you whimpered, eyes fluttering, half drunk on sleep. “you’re leaving?” he shook his head, leaning in so his forehead touched your own. his hand slid towards your neck and brought you closer, practically a kiss. the comfort of it was delicious and you let out a contented sigh. “jus’ for a bit. go back to sleep, bub.” he peeled back, evaluating what kind of captain he was. apparently not a very good one as he kissed your forehead before getting up, the skin on skin contact rushing through his bones like electricity.

simon was waiting patiently outside, his relaxed look menacing to the passing recruits. he fell into step with price easily, walking towards their favored meeting spot. “tellin’ her soon?” john shook his head, dragging an exhausted hand down his face. tell you what? that you were strong and lovely and the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen, on and off the battlefield? that the only way he slept at night was imagining your own sleepy sighs? that for some idiotic reason, there was a ring burning a hole in his sock dresser? “too soon, lieutenant.” simon huffed, the glint of a smirk under his mask. “been half a year, cap. jus’ sayin’.” john fought the urge to run back to his office, to make sure no one bothered you. “she’s just sleepin’ there, nothin’ special.” simon side eyed him, noting the stress lines and crow’s feet on his captain’s face. “i’ll tell johnny ‘s nothin’ special then. heard he’s interested.”

john prided himself on keeping his emotions in check. it was one of the revered traits of his captain position, the glue to the team. in that moment however, stopped mid stride at his lieutenant’s words, shoulders bunching and fists tightening, he wanted to kill half his team. “you will do no such thing, lieutenant. that’s an order.” simon clapped him on the shoulder with his short barking laugh, amusement dancing in his eyes. “roger that.”

—

“i don’t know gaz, do you really think he likes me?” gaz had popped in to price’s for a question but you were there instead, half awake and confused. he liked the couch too, tucking himself at the far end and pulling your socked feet into his lap. “‘ve never seen cap let anyone else sleep here. if that’s not a sign, don’t know what is.” you rolled your eyes, keeping them on the ceiling. “well i’ve been sleeping here almost six months and got a forehead kiss to show for it.” gaz froze, his hands stilling on your ankle. “you’re takin’ the piss.” as if. “am not! happened fifteen minutes ago and i’ve been overanalyzing it since.” gaz tried to reason how two of the smartest people he knew were such idiots. “darling, you’re practically married now. i’ve never seen-“ the door swung open, john’s strides minutely faltering when he saw gaz on the couch. “back to work, garrick. close the door behind you.” gaz acknowledged him with a nod and suddenly price was in his place, drawing your feet on the top of his legs.

“everyone wants a piece of you, don’t they?” it was nonsensical, what he murmured, almost to himself. you pressed your feet into his thigh until he got the memo, strong hands circling your ankles and pulling them into his lap. “what do you mean, cap? gaz was just visiting.” he hummed a non reply, fingers tracing the scar of where your foot injury used to be. “this all better?” your brows furrowed at the change in topic, nodding your head on instinct. “right as rain, sir.” his thumb, callused and strong, was pressing into your ankle now. it was like john was in a trance, fully focused on your worn socks, refusing to look at your face. “how long have you been sleepin’ here with a perfectly fine foot, sergeant?” your mouth dropped, confusion clouding your brain. “i- bout four months, sir. i sleep better here than my own bed.” he finally turned his head, his dark blue gaze searing into you. “why’s that?” it was barely loud enough for you to hear it, croaked out with a herculean effort. “because you’re here. i don’t, don’t really know why. you’re comforting and safe and smell nice…” you trailed off at the last bit, cheeks warming in embarrassment.

john tucked himself in and laughed, the air from his lungs brushing over your ankles. you answered with a small giggle, still unsure about your blunder. “whole time it was my smell keepin’ you here. way to kill a man’s ego, sweetheart.” you grinned, sitting up on your elbows. you pressed your foot into the side of his face, forcing him to look at you instead of his lap. “it’s you, john. keeping me here.” the temperature dropped, his ministrations froze. all you did was look, your eyes wide and pleading. begging him to just see, see why you kept coming back like his own personal lapdog.

you were moving, john tugging you closer by the ankles, strong hands moving up your calves until the rest of you was right there. he fixed the awkward angle by leaning down, one hand propped near your head, the other coming down to stroke your cheek. “say it’s true.” his eyes were still searching for something, so rare for you to see your captain look so unsure. “this couch isn’t even that comfortable so trust me, it’s true.” you had hoped humor would lighten the situation but your murmured truth made the air heavier, your heaving chest almost touching his own. “i’m too old for you.” you rolled your eyes. “you’re like four years older, get a grip.” he pinched your cheek, muttering cheeky under his breath. “i’m your captain.” your own hand came up on instinct, fingers finally touching the beard you dreamed about. the strands were soft but slightly scratchy, like he had a routine he occasionally forgot. “you’re john price. anyone who knows you knows that you won’t give me special treatment. i’ll run extra laps everyday.” your fingers were exploring now, thumb running down the bridge of his nose to the top of his lips. you both shuffled without realizing, your legs on either side of his torso, cradling his hips. his forearms bracketed your face, caging you in.

“i don’t love lightly. no friends with benefits or any of that bullshit.” you drew him in closer, one foot on his lower back until your pelvises kissed. “good. i want a man who can commit.” whatever he had been looking for, he found in your wide eyed gaze. “i’m…out of excuses.”

the kiss wiped out john’s memory of any kiss before it. it was slow and possessive, a claiming. six months of you just out of his reach would drive any man to this point, john reasoned. that’s why he took his time, exploring every angle and pressure point, searching for those breathy sighs you always made. he didn’t have to do much - one nip of the lip and you were singing for him, melting into his arms. you wrapped them around his neck, pulling him deeper. by this time next year, i’m proposing. john let the thought grow wings and fly, content to explore your touch as he wondered about white wedding cake and matching rings.

—

years later, no matter how you both decided to decorate your new house together, he insisted on a brown couch for his office. something hideous and comfortable, not matching the decor at all. something just for the two of you.

- -

price intimacy brainrot (i’m PMSing)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

hey guys! just dropped him to say that charles xavier is a screamer in bed wait what who said that omg!!!

obligatory mention of charles xavier's soundproofed walls is Obligatory

[darlingdaisyfarm]

texting Stan and Ford headcanons

smut version

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan Pines

✧ Stan is the kinda guy who thinks emojis are a scam, but somehow, he figured out how to use the "thumbs up" and "money bag" emoji. so, expect a lot of those in your chats.

✧ his text tone is rough, a little misspelled, typed like he's yelling even when he isn’t. Half of his texts are in all caps, and he absolutely does not care about grammar. but he gets the point across, always.

✧ you’re getting messages at 3 am about some ‘brilliant’ scheme to make a quick buck. he’ll send, “LISTEN, doll, what if we made... GIANT… glitter-filled eggs for easter? Tourists'll go NUTS." you reply, half-asleep, with “Stan, ily but go to bed." and all you get back is a “🤬 YOU GOTTA THINK BIGGER!”

✧ Stan sends those weird chain messages he swears are from some “hotshot businessman” that’ll make you rich in a week. and when you don’t respond immediately, you get a: “Fine, Miss Doubtful, see you when I’m rolling in gold.”

✧ there are whole days where he just floods your phone with random, blurry photos of some new Mystery Shack "artifact" he found. It’s usually junk he picked up at a garage sale, like a “haunted” ashtray or some knock-off painting that’s “probably ancient.”

✧ If he’s feeling sappy (and tipsy): you might get a rare “thinking bout you, sweet thing” at 2 am. but if you try to call him on it the next day, he’ll just be like “Didn’t say that. You’re makin’ stuff up.”

✧ when he’s really riled up about something, though? then his messages are just. . . a stream of caps-lock curses, mixed with misspelled attempts to describe whatever nonsense he just got himself into. you just sit back and let him rant; he’ll cool off eventually.

✧ and the voice messages are something else. they sound like he’s talking through a fan half the time. one minute, he’s rambling about how tourists are “the dumbest suckers on the planet” and the next, he’s ranting about how “bigfoot definitely broke into the shack last night!"

types of messages Stan texts: 

"So… whatcha wearin’? 😏"

“Hey doll, I just found a penny on the ground! Maybe today’s my lucky day… hint hint ;)"

"I’d say somethin’ romantic, but I think my brain just shorted out. You’re a little too cute for a guy like me."

"Just tried that new café downtown. Ordered coffee… tastes like they filtered it through someone’s laundry. You’d hate it. Wanna come mock it with me?"

"Not gonna lie, I miss that face of yours. So what’re we doin’ about it, huh?"

“Again missin’ that cute little smile of yours… maybe you could send me a pic to remind me?”

"Wanna help me scam the tourists today? I’ll split the loot with ya… maybe ;)”

"You wouldn’t believe what I caught Ford muttering in his sleep. Man’s like a walking encyclopedia, even when he’s unconscious."

“Got any plans later? Thought maybe we could… y’know… not have plans together."

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford Pines 

✧ hehehehe he’s like an old-school emailer who’s just now getting the hang of messaging apps. texts in complete sentences, full punctuation, like he’s drafting a dissertation.

✧ He sends you whole paragraphs at random hours, talking about some discovery he’s made, like he’s reporting directly to NASA. you’re like, “Ford, it's just a weird-looking squirrel." and he's already typing another essay about its "possible interdimensional origins."

✧ once in a while, he’ll send you a message that says, “Are you awake?” at, like 3 am followed by a string of thoughtful yet completely bonkers hypotheses. you find it cute, though, his mind never stops, not even for a second.

✧ If he’s feeling bold, you might even get a “hypothetical” confession out of him: “Hypothetically, if one were to develop... strong emotional attachment to a certain person... how would one proceed?" You tease him about it the next day, and he gets flustered, “It was purely scientific curiosity."

✧ Ford isn’t big on emojis, but he likes the brain and alien ones, using them poetically. he’ll sign off texts with a single brain emoji, like it’s his version of a little goodbye wave.

✧ on really rare occasions, he’ll send a voice message. they’re always way too long, and it’s usually him whispering so he doesn’t wake Stan up. he goes on about cosmic rays or “gravity anomalies,” his voice dropping lower when he gets excited. you live for those moments

✧ and if he ever texts you a “good night,” you just know he’s been up thinking about it for hours, trying to figure out if it’s “appropriate.”

types of messages Ford texts: 

“It’s been approximately 3 hours, 12 minutes, and 23 seconds since our last conversation… not that I’m counting or anything. Just… miss you."

sends a meme about science nerds “Us. But mostly me.”

“My hands ache from writing… though perhaps if it were writing about you, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Do you think about me too, or am I the only one utterly ruined by this… whatever this is?”

“I’ve been thinking about that book you lent me... 🤔 It’s honestly so much more interesting than I expected, thank you for recommending it."

"I don’t know how to work this... But I managed to send a meme! It’s not the worst thing I’ve done, I suppose? 

“I did it. I fixed the telescope. Finally. Now we can actually look at the stars like we’ve talked about. :)"

"I hope you’re feeling okay today. I noticed you seemed a little stressed the other day. Don’t forget to take care of yourself. :) It’s important."

"If I could rearrange the periodic table, I’d put U and I together. :( Sorry, nerdy joke... :’D)”

ps - I CANT THEYRE SO CUTE BOTH I WANT TO SMASH THEM AGAINST THE WALL

lmao if someone wants, i can write some spicy types of chatting with them :)))

[forlovvers]

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ cherry flavored

pair: bsf!jungwon x gn!reader | genre: fluff | warning(s): mention of bleeding &cuts, boxing | wc: 400 | synopsis: you and your best friend have a small chat before his next fight.

lynne’s notez🗒️: ik im so inactive but dropping this here bcz i love blonde jungwon😁😁

your best friend’s hobby of hitting other people for fun always worried you. standing from the sidelines, you watch as the guy pommels jungwon with relentless force, forcing him into a corner of the ring.

you want to say something, anything to encourage to him to stand up. but all that comes out is, “don’t be lame, jungwon!” you watch as a smirk spreads across his lips and he’s quick to stand back up. using his last bit of strength, he quickly turns the match around by using a technique you haven’t seen him use before just as the bell rings.

as he steps out of the ring he finds you in the back waiting to congratulate him on the win. you hand him a half-full water bottle and he wordlessly thanks you. “that guy was rocking your shit,” you say with a giggle.

jungwon rolls his eyes, unclasping the cap on the bottle and taking a sip, “you like seeing me in pain a bit too much.”

“maybe i do,” you shrug, stepping closer to him. jungwon was always taller than you but a sudden growth spurt in middle school had stretched that by a mile. he also leans in, closing the distance between you two.

without stopping yourself, you reach up and push his blonde bangs aside. it’s such a small act but it feels so intimate to you. “you’re bleeding.” you say, examining the cut near his lip.

you’re so close to him that he can smell your laundry detergent and vanilla lotion, and it’s safe to say that it’s driving him crazy. “is it cherry?” he suddenly says, breaking the unspoken tension.

“what?” your brows crease in confusion.

“your lip gloss, is it cherry?” he repeats. you nod, still confused. he reopens the water bottle and there’s a faint outline of your lips stamped with cherry flavored lip gloss on the bottle.

your jaw falls gently open as you realize you had been taking sips throughout the round. “sorry.” you say sheepishly.

“don’t apologize,” jungwon leans in even closer and lowers his lips to your ear, “ i bet the real thing’s even better.”

the bell rings again and the announcer calls jungwon’s name for the next match, and he walks away toward the ring, glancing back at you with dilated eyes.

[kyxhiin]

Divine (grandpa) twitch chat.

Billy has 6 grandpas in his head at all times. More specifically 6 really old grandpa's who know modern slang in his head. And he doesn't know whether to be tired of it or burst out laughing at some of the stuff they say. Let's say for instance.

Zeus: When I was you age I was stuck in my father's stomach cause I was eaten by him!

Solomon: Nobody cares you unc. Everybody knows your rizz stories are all cap.

Captain Marvel: *Trying really hard to keep his face straight in order to stop bursting out laughing in the meeting.*

WW notices and comments on it

Wonderwoman: Brother, is something wrong?

Captain Marvel: Oh, it's fine the twitch chat in my head keeps arguing.

He accidentally blurts out as the JL all look at him with confused stares.

And for another story.

Billy being all alone in some room in the JL watch tower.

Heracles: Thy strength is so much better than superman. He may be a Poser.

Solomon: You may be strong, but in no way are you beating him. You're all bark no bite.

Heracles: Why don't you-!

Captain Marvel pinching his nosebridge.

Cap: I don't wanna hear anything about this, I'll count to 3 and if your not quiet then I swear to myself I will punch a hole through this space ship.

Flash and GL who just so happened to pass by as Billy said that.

Green lantern:...You think he needs a vaca?

Flash:... Definitely.....

[todayisafridaynight]

I may just be delirious but I kind of feel like there's something there about some of the most traumatic events in Arakawa's life arguably stemming from/being made worse by being loved too much.

Like, Toshio's death, right. The death of a parent is always always going to be traumatic, particularly when your other parent is abusive, but I feel like being there, being the first to the scene, made it so much worse. Especially when it should've been a good memory.

Non-zero chance I'm just projecting because I was there for my own father's death and I was around Arakawa's age at the time, but it's like... it did have very specific life-long effects, didn't it... the way he keeps coming back to Peking duck and talks about it like he's had it before when he can't even bring himself to eat it unless he's with family (and indeed, never did, up until right before he died)...

And then there's his former patriarch. Of course, he seemed to see Arakawa as more of an object--fully under his control and something to be thrown away at the first sign of autonomy. But I feel like, before then, Arakawa must've been his "favorite," if he was willing to arrange a marriage between his daughter and Arakawa. Which I expect is what made his reaction when Arakawa told him he was (technically) having an affair with Akane and wanted out of the family that extreme in going as far as to send men after Akane and Ichiban.

The last one I can immediately think of is not exactly traumatic for him, though it is traumatic For Me so I'm counting it, but it's of course what we were talking about with Jo hesitating so much at the thought of killing Arakawa that he passed up the chance to save him.

I Dunno I Am Delirious but... there's a pattern somewhere in there... Anyway. Uh. "Happy" Father's Day am I right

happy fathers day :]]]]