#and trust me. tumblr would pay dearly if they fucked up

[llitchilitchi]

reblog this version

so in short

-> Glaze your art if you have the access to Glaze. the computing power for it is insane, it sucks, I know. cook dinner while your art glazes or go on a walk.

-> if you have the power necessary to use Nightshade, use it too.

-> data sharing has to be turned off individually for every blog. go do that

-> if you are on desktop, go to Account and choose a blog. on the right side menu, select Blog Settings. the setting is at the bottom under Visibility. I recommend turning it on even if you do not trust that your data will not be used for training AI models

-> please do this even if you are not an artist/don't post your own images! the wording wasn't clear on whether reblogged posts will be included in scraping, and given the other info coming out, it is likely that it might be

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

Reborn Again (and again and again)

(Sanzu's bday fic with tones of angst)

(Bonten HaruMai)

It's been a while since I posted my fics here bc no spoons kept my away of tumblr ( I'm gonna try to post all of them and they are always on ao3!)

But.... Sanzu Haruchiyo birthday seems like the perfect occasion for this!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LIL PINK GREMLIN, I LOVE YOU DEARLY AND YOU DESERVE THE WORLD! (but I'm gonna give you angst and a lap full of Mikey, oopsie?)

(link to ao3 in case someone wants to read it there)

Summary: Sanzu remembers his last birthday, bittersweet memories that keep his delusions afloat.

And of course, he'll never lose his faith in his king.

(even when Mikey's eyes are completely devoid of all emotion)

Warnings: Manga Spoilers (Bonten timeline, so yeah), Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Suicide, Mental Health Issues (issues is an understatement xD), Toxic Codependent Relationship, Heavily Depressed Mikey, Burn Out Sanzu, Unrequited Delusional Love, and idk, is Bonten they are so totally not fine and it shows, okay?

Yeah, this fic is an emotional roller coaster, it felt like it writing it and is not less of it as a reader (or I've been told that). Oh, Sanzu is sad and horny bc you can't tell me Bonten Mikey has energy to fuck (or live)

There is a part of the fic inspired on this art, bc Mikey sleeping on Haru's lap is for some reason precious to me 💜

Sanzu was bored, his feet kept tapping the ground, his mind drifting far away from here. He should be paying attention to his surroundings, guarding the building where his king was. 

Instead, he was lost in the memories of his last birthday, almost one year ago. Wondering if it would be different this time, if Mikey remembered his promise. He shook his head, immediately feeling guilty for daring to doubt it. Of course he did, Sanzu was only feeling insecure, nothing new. 

(He had to repeat it as many times as necessary, to convince himself that Mikey’s eyes had not been completely devoid of all emotion for more than a month)

To be fair, the fact that Hangaki didn’t represent any type of threat to his king, wasn’t helping him focus on the present or to keep his thoughts from wandering back to the previous year.

Sanzu was having a shitty day. That wasn’t exactly unusual lately, he had become more and more tired during the last years few months. Exhausted would be the right word, but he couldn’t afford to rest, to even entertain the possibility that he should delegate some of his responsibilities to others if he didn’t want to end up completely burned out. But of course, he couldn't trust anyone else to perform his duties, so Sanzu was forced to continue stretching himself thin.

(If he was more honest with himself, he could admit that he had been falling apart for way too long. But he wasn’t, he couldn’t)

Whatever. He was used to it. He’s handled this weariness before — today wasn’t unique. He was a grown ass man, who definitely wouldn’t throw a tantrum just because everyone forgot it was his birthday. And twenty-seven wasn’t a memorable number either, so who cared? 

This was just Sanzu being salty, tonight's job took up more time than he anticipated, so he had to see Takeomi’s ugly face for way too long. Yeah, it was totally unrelated to the pang of jealousy he felt when he overheard the older man explaining to Kakucho how this week was special, since the anniversary of Senju’s death was close. He wasn’t that pathetic, to hold a grudge because, even now, his sister kept hogging all the attention.

(What sister? Sanzu was an only child, his own mind was playing tricks to him again)

He sighed, using his own set of keys to open the door of Mikey’s penthouse and trying to be as silent as possible. He was fully aware his king wouldn’t be sleeping — it was getting harder each day to convince him to even try it.

It was better to be quiet anyway, at least, until he had a clue of which mood he was going to find. Would it be one of those days of empty glares and cold words, where he was only ‘Sanzu’? Or…

“Haruchiyo?”

A weak whisper, but more than enough for him to quickly locate the source. Mikey was sitting on the sofa, completely in the dark except for the dim light that came through the window, proving the outside world was still there, uncaring and merciless. 

“Hey… I’m back.”

His heart sank when he got closer, finally noticing Mikey’s puffy eyes and his tear-streaked cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to comfort him, caress his beautiful face and erase any trace of pain in it. But he knew better. Years of walking on broken glass around his lover taught him better.

(Was ‘lover’ the right word? When he had to repress his own feelings, pretending there was no love in order to stay by Mikey’s side? Probably not)

“What’s wrong?” 

He asked cautiously, sitting on the nearest armchair. Mikey blinked a couple of times, looking at him in awe, almost like he was processing that Sanzu was really here.

“I thought you wouldn’t come tonight.” 

There was no point in reminding him that he could just text or call —that no matter what he was doing, Sanzu would leave it in a heartbeat to run to his king's side. Mikey was fully aware of it, but he refused to show this type of weakness.

“I’ll always come back to you, Mikey.”

He gave him a soft smile, hoping it was somehow reassuring. It seemed to work, considering the next moment he had a lap full of Mikey, wrapping his arms around Haruchiyo’s neck and hiding his face in it. He didn’t have to think twice before hugging him back and gently pulling the thin body closer.

“I’m sorry, the deal took longer than I thought.” 

A noncommittal hum was the only answer he received,  another sign that Mikey cared less every day about his own organization. It was fine, Sanzu could keep the gears turning and perfectly greased, waiting until his king was ready to step back in the game and take what was rightfully his. 

“But I’m here now, I’m right here…” 

His voice dripped with affection, his touch conveying the same feeling as he started to play with the white locks. The soft caresses spoke louder than the words he’ll never say. It was fine — he was good at hiding parts of himself, burying it with all his secrets.

(So many secrets, weighing him more every day, slowly drowning him until he couldn’t recognize his own reflection)

“You are.” Mikey finally lifted his head, looking at him like he was trying to figure out something. “Even if this morning…”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” 

It was a lie, they both knew it. Of course he remembered how detached his king had been, how disgusted he looked by his weak attempt at cuddling. The cold voice, clearly commanding him to disappear from his sight. ‘Don’t you have work to do, Sanzu?’

It was a lie, one of the many he carefully crafted for Mikey’s sake. There was no need to dwell on it when Sanzu wanted to comfort him, not burden him with guilt. Especially when the cause was his own inability to hide his stupid hopes and desires. 

“Apparently about nothing.”

“Yep, nothing at all.” He repeated, softly brushing a strand of hair out of Mikey’s eyes and kissing his forehead, earning a simper in return.

Wait, what? A smile? A coy one, small and probably easy to miss for anyone else. But not for him, Sanzu was able to spot the most subtle change in his king’s expression, and this wasn’t subtle. A genuine smile on Mikey’s face? And thanks to him? 

Sanzu’s inner turmoil disappeared. The fatigue that he constantly carried with him was gone too. Just like that, a simple gesture from his king, made everything better, all the problems more than worth it as long as it meant protecting these rare moments of happiness.

(A necessary reminder of why he kept fighting, always so restless, refusing to let go, reinventing himself over and over)

He leaned in to cross the small distance between their lips, kissing him slowly, wanting to savor the moment. There was no rush for once, and even if he longed for more, even if his body reacted to the closeness and the familiar taste, he knew too damn well Mikey’s libido had been practically nonexistent lately. 

No matter how much he yearned to go further, he’d take whatever his king offered to him without presumptions. For now, Sanzu was content with the way Mikey’s lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore freely. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning inside the kiss, realizing he sounded too desperate. 

Damn it, when was the last time they actually had sex? He couldn’t recall when it was, but he could clearly see the memories – the way Mikey whimpered in his ear, his body pressed against the shower wall… 

Fuck, he had to calm down before his own neediness tarnished this moment doing something stupid — Like pressing Mikey’s warm body down onto his growing erection, bucking his hips slightly, rubbing himself just enough to feel the friction against that tight ass he adored so much… Stop it, brain!

“Sorry…”

Sanzu pulled away from the kiss with a flustered face, looking at Mikey with glossy eyes and pressing their foreheads together, still catching his breath. 

“Why are you apologizing, Haruchiyo?” There was a sad undertone in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. “It’s me, I can’t even give you that, you should…” 

“Don’t go there.” He gently placed a finger in front of the other’s lips. “I don’t need it, okay? I can live perfectly fine without fucking.”

“But you want it.” Mikey deadpanned. 

“Of course I do, because you’re gorgeous and I can’t help feeling attracted to you.” He gave him a soft peck. “And that’s on me, you don’t owe me anything, alright? Having you in my arms like this is already the best birthday gift I could ever wish for.”

“What?!” 

“Nothing.” It was too late — he knew as soon as he saw Mikey’s eyes widening in a mix of surprise and clarity.

“Fuck, it’s July… That’s not nothing!” He groaned in frustration. “Did you get to celebrate it at least?” 

Judging by the way Mikey looked at him, the answer to this was probably written in his face. That was the exact reason why he didn’t tell him, to absolve him of the guilt, to prevent him from falling deeper into self-loathing. 

“It’s okay, we can still celebrate it together if you want-”

“It's not even your birthday anymore.” 

His rage was icy cold, Sanzu was sure the temperature of the whole room dropped a few degrees. Suddenly he was freezing, despite the anger not being directed at him for once. 

“Then we don’t? It’s not a big deal, really, there will be other occasions. It happens every year, right?” His gaze stared at him with disbelief. “What? I’m serious, I don’t need some fancy ass shit, this is already perfect.”

“Haruchiyo…” Whatever his king wanted to say, the way Sanzu hugged him tighter seemed to change his mind. Instead, he sighed, burying his face on the crook of his neck. “Fine. Next year?”

“Next year it is.” 

He started to stroke his hair once again, wanting to leave this conversation behind. It was true, his day got infinitely better the moment Mikey sat on his lap and hugged him. Sanzu couldn’t ask for more, because there was nothing but him.

“I won’t forget it, I promise.” 

Sanzu gasped at the honesty in those words, a lump in his throat that threatened to make him cry, touched by his king making a promise to him. It wasn’t going to happen, he couldn’t put his own burden on Mikey, it was his to bear alone. 

(Alone and isolated inside of his own mind)

“I know you won’t Mikey, I believe in you.” 

He whispered with raw devotion. He will never lose his faith in Mikey, because as long as his king kept breathing… Everything was possible. 

Sanzu smiled softly, melting slightly with the memory of how Mikey ended falling asleep on his lap, of how he made sure to stay still, to not interrupt the other’s dreams. If he closed his eyes, he could see how perfect Mikey looked when he woke up hours later, well rested for once. The way his face lit up when he saw that Sanzu was still there, hugging him for hours and making sure he was comfortable. He could even feel the lingering sensation of his lips on his own… Damn it, how could he miss Mikey so much when they were almost living together?

(It was due to Mikey fading in front of him, disappearing somewhere out of his reach. No, he couldn’t admit that)

He sighed, frustrated with himself. He was doing it again, yearning instead of being grateful for what he was given. 

A sudden change in the white noise from nearby pedestrians forced him to snap out of his inner turmoil. He lifted up his head, scanning the surroundings to find the source of the commotion. 

Sanzu’s eyes widened with panic, the world went silent. Except for the echo of his own delusions shattering into thousand pieces, ringing in his ears for a split second that lasted for ages.

“Mikey?!!”

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

Kitties Afoot

At some point, this started a discussion about Murderbot in the present as a cat. It has since become something else entirely, and I don’t regret a thing. So, I guess, stary kitty meets almost-stray human.

There’s more written, but I haven’t edited the rest and I’m not sure I trust Tumblr with anything longer.

I came home to find a giant, scrawny feline curled up on my front porch. The black and gray creature lay on top of the welcome mat with its paws tucked under its shivering body. It looked huge for a cat but not big enough for a mountain lion, and it didn’t look like a kitten. The strange animal was malnourished; as I approached, I could count the poor baby’s ribs with each shuddering breath it took. 

“Shit,” I whispered and checked my phone.

It was well into the evening and getting colder outside with each passing moment. The kitty looked up when I got to my front steps. Bright blue eyes stared at me as the creature scrunched up, making itself as small as possible.

“Hey, it’s all right,” I said as soothingly as I could. “I won’t hurt you. Let me get you inside before the weather turns nasty.”

Not that I thought the cat would understand me, but I was used to talking to animals. Before Tasha had passed away earlier that year, I had always had pets at home. I’d spoken to the family dog as a child and to my ex-boyfriend’s two ferrets. And, of course, Tasha the Princess never shut up. Most days, I still woke up expecting to find her dozing on my head.

I set my backpack on the ground, slipped out of my sweater, and wrapped the warm clothing around the shivering kitty. It tried to claw me through the thick fabric but didn’t get very far, though I caught a good look at its sharp talons. I held it in my arms and did my best to navigate the front door. The cat must’ve weighed twenty pounds, but it was probably all muscle and grump.

Inside, I set it down on a folded blanket on the couch and went looking for a heating pad. September was a little early to be getting out the winter stuff. Still, the kitty wouldn’t stop shivering, and I wanted to warm it up as quickly as possible. 

The furball stayed put and watched me from its new comfortable perch. Its sleek fur was pitch black, the color of raven wings, but its paws were gray, as was its stomach. I couldn’t tell if the cat was male or female, and I wasn’t going to peek between its legs to find out. 

Once I had the heating pad in place, I put a couple of Tasha’s bowls on the coffee table and scooted the table right up to the couch. From here, the kitty had to only shift its weight to reach the water and wet cat food. Everything about the situation was weird, from the cat’s knowing glances to the constant reminders that Tasha was gone. 

I scrolled through my contacts and found the phone number of a family veterinarian. It was too late to call Dr. Hopkins now, but I sent him a quick message and asked for an urgent appointment. If the kitty survived the night, and I had a sneaking suspicion the grumpy monster wasn’t going down without a fight, it would need medical attention. 

The cat shifted restlessly on its pile of blankets, so I turned on the television. Tasha had loved those stupidly endless videos on YouTube where the camera was trained on a tree stump where birds came to feed. This cast couldn’t care less. It didn’t even notice the TV until I turned on a food documentary episode on Netflix.

I went to make myself a snack in the kitchen and noticed the cat half watching me and half paying attention to whatever it saw on the television. Like I said, weird cat.

My home is tiny, a two-story townhome with an unfinished basement that occasionally floods. I’d gotten lucky with the place; I’d been sharing it with a roommate who suddenly had to move cross-country, and she paid for her share of the mortgage for three months. And then I’d found a decent manager job at a local cafe that let me keep the place. 

I hummed while puttering around the kitchen. It was too late for a proper dinner, and I wasn’t hungry anyway. And I couldn’t drink coffee that late in the evening, not if I planned to get any sleep. The kitty drank some water from the closest bowl and then closed its eyes. 

Asleep, it could almost pass for a house cat.

Up close, though, there was no mistaking that it was a wild creature. Its ears followed my motions even while it dozed. I turned up the heater for the night and then sat on the other side of the couch, giving the strange feline plenty of space. To my surprise, it stretched out a bit once I was sitting down like it didn’t mind the company so long as said company kept a respectable distance. 

***

I don’t remember falling asleep on the couch, but that’s where I woke up the following morning. I sat pressed against one of the couch’s plush arms, legs tucked under me. There was a blanket draped over me that I didn’t remember grabbing. The strange cat lay curled up a few inches from my left foot; I could swear it was purring slightly.

As soon as I moved, uncurling my stiff legs, it got up and jumped off the couch. Standing next to the coffee table, it was apparent just how big it was for a feline. It trotted over to the front door like it owned the place. Standing on its back paws, the cat had no trouble reaching the handle, though it didn’t have the thumbs needed to operate it.

I stood up, followed it, and opened the door for it. “You’re pretty smart for a kitty,” I said as it jumped out onto the front porch. “You gonna be OK, little guy?”

“Meow,” said the cat and vanished into the bushes next to the porch steps. 

“Bye, kitty!”

I went back inside but didn’t close the front door. It seemed stupid in retrospect. What kind of person leaves the door open for anyone to stroll inside? But it was Friday and my one day off, so I made coffee in the kitchen and texted with my mother. And maybe hoped that my feline companion might return. 

My mother lives halfway across the country in a memory care facility. I can’t say I love my mother — that would be a bald faced lie — but we still text occasionally. I know that my stepfather is taking good care of her, and I love him dearly. 

That morning, she was showing off a watercolor painting that she’d created that week. She told me she’d never been to the beach before, and I had to put the phone down for ten minutes before I could answer. Mom and I had vacationed at the beach every year while Dad was still alive. She’d painted a sunset over those turbulent waters. 

Sniffling, I cradled my mug and tried not to let the tears fall. I should’ve known better by then, but it still stung every time. 

I was still struggling to keep my composure when I heard the sound of claws on the linoleum. Tasha had loathed coming into the kitchen because it wasn’t carpeted, and the drama queen just hadn’t liked the feel of it under her little kitty feet.

Giant Cat had no such compunctions. It stood a few feet out of reach, watching me with those soulful eyes until I had to look away. Sniffling, I rubbed at my face and forced myself to smile. 

“Hey there, furball. Back for more food?”

“Meow.”

I opened a can of wet food — if I was going to feed this beast, I would need to get more immediately — and poured the contents into a bowl. After setting the bowl on the floor, I stepped away from it and perched on a counter, watching the cat.

I walked over to the bowl, sniffed at it a few times, and then devoured the food like it was starving. When it was done, it licked its lips and, in one mighty leap, jumped onto the counter. Where it sat down and nuzzled the toaster. 

Tasha had never mastered the art of climbing on the furniture. Anything taller than a couch had warranted a loud, obnoxious mew until I came over and picked her up. Not this cat. It seemed perfectly capable of getting up to wherever the fuck it wanted. 

“How about a trip to the vet?” I asked. “Just to make you’re not all scratched up inside.”

“Hiss,” said the cat.

I rolled my eyes and giggled. “Not a fan of vets, huh?”

“Hiss.”

“Right.” I finished my coffee in three big gulps. “Of course not. Though, to be honest, I’m not a huge fan of doctors, either.” Mom had seen so many doctors after she’d first gotten sick that I loathed the smell of disinfectant now.

Kitty jumped off the counter after sniffing at the coffee maker and my box of tea samples and went exploring. Like it owned the place, it wandered into the laundry room and then up the stairs into my bedroom. I rinsed out my coffee mug and followed it, curious to see what it might do next. 

About half an hour later, the cat decided that it had sniffed at those things it deemed essential and returned to the living room. Hopping onto the couch, it settled on top of the blanket pile and stared between me and the television. 

“Seriously?” I asked, choking back laughter. 

I’d never heard of a cat that liked watching Netflix. Tasha had mostly enjoyed shows with bird noises or where things moved. Sometimes, the princess would randomly attack the TV like she hoped to catch whatever she was looking at. Meanwhile, this cat meowed at me unhappily when I turned on a bird video and didn’t stop until it saw the Netflix logo. Then, it focused on whatever action flick began playing and snuggled further into the warm blankets.

“Seriously,” I muttered again, quietly, and stood there by the banister, shaking my head. 

My weird companion spent the next few hours chilling in front of the TV. Its ears would occasionally perk up when a truck passed by, but mostly it watched the show. Have you ever seen a cat watch television? Because, up until this point, I hadn’t. And I wasn’t sure what to think.

Doing chores proved somewhat tricky when I kept casting furtive glances toward the strange creature. It paid me no heed, but somehow, it seemed to know when I watched it with blatant curiosity. Like, my previous pets had been… pets. This hissy weirdo, meanwhile, was something else entirely.

Eventually, I decided that I needed to get groceries and more cat food, and generally get out of the house for a little while. During a nice, long shower, I convinced myself that I was crazy, and there was nothing weird about the kitty in my living room. Then, I came back downstairs and found the kitty nuzzling the TV remote and decided that I didn’t care.

“Wanna watch something else?” I asked.

The cat looked up at me. “Meow.”

It took me a moment to actually look at the TV and realize that the action movie had ended while I was upstairs. Kitty apparently just wanted something else to start playing. Right. Totally normal right there.

“I need to go out for a while,” I said while scrolling through the Netflix menus. The rest came out before I could think too hard about speaking to a wild animal. “I need to pick up groceries. And cat food. And honestly, I’ve worked twelve-hour shifts for the last week and a half, and I’m ready to see something other than more walls. 

“So, let’s get something nice and long started, OK? So you don’t get bored while I’m out. I’m not too keen on leaving the front door open, but the back door’s not locked — I know, I know, bad habit — and you can probably just reach the handle. It’s the pull-down kind.”

“Meow.”

I turned on some kind of drama that promised at least fifteen hours of episodes. “Well, anyway. I’ll be back in a while. Tuna or chicken?”

“Meow meow.”

“Chicken it is.” I was still talking to a cat. Maybe I missed Tasha more than I’d thought. “See you later, kitty.”

[redhoodieone]

Welcome Home

This is technically my first smut. I feel like since I always requests smuts, I figured I should give one back to Tumblr and for those who always make my fantasies come true. 

Warnings: Major Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

 Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

 Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

  I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

Yeah it’s my first smut...so I’m sorry if it sucks. (Pun intended)

[diggitydee]

Dear me,

It was an interesting day, Claire texted me today because she saw the video I posted of me making love to her asking “what makes me think I can post that video?” And then telling me not to post those “things” and to delete them from my phone as if they were disgusting . I was really tempted to reply to her but i didn’t, I was gonna tell her this is my personal account that contains how I feel, interest, and memories. Nobody that we know follows me Besides her best friend which I blocked, and the fact it doesn’t show her face nor mines so nobody would even know. She’s lucky I’m not like all the other ex’s that use revenge porn on their ex gf and blackmailing them or using it to ruin their lives. I just posted it cause I know she misses the way I touch her not just sexually but in others ways also, I guess it brings up too many memories of us together and it hurts her... Then for her tell me to delete off my phone like why would I do that? These are memories I shared with her passionately pouring my soul into her everytime we made love weather it was gentle or rough i did out of love never lust. I just wanted to tell her to come over to my place and personally delete everything we ever shared off my phone not just sexually while I watch her do the same to her phone, her IG, Visco and the laptop if she really wanted all that to be gone my as well keep going and get rid of everything and just forget this relationship ever happen because I know that what she wants but doesn’t have the courage to say it to my face, that shit really sharrted my heart when I found out at the wedding like who is she? This is not the person love so dearly all these years and dedicated my time, energy and life too... and she expected me to act like everything ok and to have fun like how small minded and selfish can you be? Not realizing what that emotionally and mentally does to a person. I don’t even know why I’m even allowing her to follow me on tumblr showing her what’s going on within my mind, life, and how I feel.. i blocked her on IG why should I stop there? Why am i even going to her apartment cleaning the carpet, fixing the fucking walls, paying for the phone bill? Why am i still trying to support, help her and take care of her after everything? Why can’t I just stop loving her after everything I’ve been through? She doesn’t deserve me and yet I still give her my time, love and energy, I’m not even angry anymore this is just so ridiculously fucked up i did what she wanted me to do to I’ve grown to be person we both needed to be so we can be together again but it was all lies, one of the very few people i trusted who I never thought would lie to me did it in the worst way possible making me believe we could be together again if I fixed my problems and do what I needed to do. I really don’t know who she is anymore, I can say the same thing about myself but at least I’m changing for the better and honest, it’s sad she lied to me, her parents about the break up i knew this she was too good to be true maybe it’s because love made me blind to her deceitful ways and her ugly personality.. I have a lot to think about before I make decision I can never take back.

[violetsystems]

#personal

Life is kind of entering the dark side of the moon hidden under the shadows of the holidays.  I’m taking my mom out for Xi’an food on Thanksgiving day.  We went for Cantonese food last year on Christmas.  She is definitely the more nontraditional side of the family.  My dad is chill too.  He’s relayed to me twice how he doesn’t pay attention to the news.  When his wife turns on the tv he plugs in his new airpods and listens to Shania Twain or something.  Navigating both relationships over the holidays allows me to take comfort in the uniqueness of my situation.  Nothing in my life is very simple and then I sort of take it all in stride.  Both my parents often remark about how proud they are I turned out.  I was always a very quiet and shy kid up until I had to stand up for myself.  Even then I don’t really ever want to be a bother.  But a certain amount of respect for myself has developed over time being left out, passed over and ignored.  So the deafening silence I have for the past is more about moving on out of the shadows and towards the light.  I’ve spent the last twenty years at this point working in a progressive arts environment.  I’ve hit plenty of guardrails trying to stay in my lane.  But I know where I belong regardless.  After awhile what used to frustrate me about self control actually fuels my path forward.  Somebody made a comment about how robotic I respond to everything at work.  It was a low key sleight and I took it that way but wasn’t totally untruthful.  I don’t react much in realms where I don’t control the narrative.  I quit Facebook and Twitter awhile ago.  I don’t feel as hardwired to share everything in my life.  I do take boring pictures on IG to prove I exist.  I was walking down the street the other day and somebody motioned to me and said loudly “So he is real.”  I don’t use tinder so I don’t know what it’s like to justify my existence every ten feet on my lunch break or commute by swiping right or left.  It isn’t like I don’t share my thoughts or bare my soul every Saturday morning on Tumblr.  People have grown to appreciate that this is how I engage with people who really want to know what I’m thinking.  Everybody in real life just talks at you.  A persistent water cooler conversation that goes nowhere.  People announce things in a circle about what they’d do if they had super powers or ran for office and it goes nowhere.  Roleplaying is fun I guess.  I play World of Warcraft.  I’m a Warlock named Overbite.  Over the summer some Christians called me a witch for walking past their protest at the abortion clinic.  It helps me to get into character when I play a paladin.  Really get into the mind of the self righteous you know.  Understand their power.  Freedom of speech in America for what it’s worth doesn’t really get in my way when I realize nobody is listening to anyone but themselves.  I talk a lot openly in my kitchen to myself and my cat about all this.  I played Magic the Gathering the last two years a lot to practice my public speaking.  At least when you announce the rules on a card people have to listen.  These days people are too busy to play so I’m left with these funny games in the street.  In America it’s becoming more like Outback steakhouse.  No rules and too many people leaning to the hard right.  The left hand path is kind of secluded.  Perfect for a moonlight stroll.  As dark as that might be at four pm in the dead of winter.

For what it’s worth I’ve been watching a lot of Watchmen and listening to Nine Inch Nails by myself.  I like to read and work on my finances in a cloud based spreadsheet.  Most of what I read is online.  When it’s not the news or the history of places I barely know it’s quest text or lore on a computer screen.  I’ve been a lot more at ease in some ways.  I’ve been mostly trying to figure out the feeding schedule for my new house guest.  I forget I’ve been feeding that cat twice a day for over a year outdoors.  Surprisingly or not so she is pretty much on the same exact schedule as I am.  The electric bill is sixty percent lower than it’s ever been.  I’m assuming part of that is a more energy efficient refrigerator.  My downstairs neighbors Christmas lights don’t even make a dent in the meter.  My life is kind of peaceful and boring at home.  When I step outside the threshold it can be a different story.  In terms of guardrails I’ve become at peace withjwhere I belong.  Staying out of trouble.  I’ve been swerving around the planet safely for years.  I’ve been transparent on the internet as well.  You can try to cover your tracks as much as you want.  But I don’t believe you can hide from yourself.  A friend on here posted this tweet from Cher talking about Epstein.  It was a pretty strong opinion about creepy rich old men that I respected.  The other part of it struck me a little harder.  Something about powerful and strong men holding on to that power.  Which leads me to think about what it means to be a powerful or strong man in modern times.  For the record I’ve been made to feel just like everybody else quite the opposite.  That none of the good I do ever really matters.  That how I choose to behave online and off however in sync is not seen as power.  And I’m aware that most men have never had to defend themselves or their privileges.  I’m also aware that I identify how I identify.  There’s no need for me to beat you over the head with any of it.  I’ve been online for years and you can ask around.  I’m not saying it wasn’t hard work to be a better man.  I’m not saying anything really.  That’s not for me to prove at this point.   I have nothing to defend other than the power of the identity I live in plain sight.  In truth being open and honest does get you taken advantage of often.  But you learn to handle yourself in dangerous situations.  Some of people’s ideas of friendship and trust can be a little naive.  I’ve been there.  Part of the reason I walked away from making music and performing it was the environment around it.  I found I was locked out and walked away from it out of boredom.  People already know who I am for better or for worse in more places I’ve never visited.  Imagine if I was a piece of shit behind the scenes.  My dirty laundry would be everywhere on the internet by now.  And these days it’s pretty apparent that being a Warlock in Christian America isn’t the same as it is on a PVP server.  War mode is always on if you want it to be.  And the battles go nowhere.  The only random drops I pay attention to are the sale prices on Gore-Tex Chuck Taylors.   The real power being how I manage my finances responsibly.  And nobody here listens unless you’ve got your wallet out anyway.  I don’t have a line item for any of that in my budget.  So I stick to carving out a safe space for myself in a sustainable way and be quiet.  Men have spoken enough at this point.  I amplify the communities and voices that have shaped my thinking on things.  I signal boost and I stay under the radar at the same time.  Unless of course you’ve got Airplay sharing enabled.

Every day I log on to this community I have a conscious choice to share.  I am mindful personally about what kind of message it sends out.  I don’t really judge other people’s curation.  I can say sometimes I’m not into certain things.  I’m not particularly sensitive to a lot of imagery.  I’ve spent twenty years servicing an art school.  I’ve seen plenty of fucked up shit outside of my comfort zone.  Everything has context in a community.  And here online I think we operate with the notion that we are trying to explore the boundaries of our own identities.  We are also trying to conduct this experiment in a safe way.  A lot of people might say I’m a little too cautious.  A lot of people also probably say that I’m a little too straight behind my back.  I guess I know my audience and vice versa.  But I don’t think of this place as an audience.  I’m not out here trying to sell things for profit.  I’m trying to signal boost the things that inspire me aesthetically in a complex way.  Some things I like.  Some things I love and care about dearly.  Some people know exactly what I mean when I hint about things.  And some people are lost and not even paying that close attention.  Some people pop up in my dash and their opinion means the world to me.  The togetherness of being in a place where people understand the nuance and context is freeing.  Nobody asks too many questions.  The interactions I’ve had with people online are always genuine and terse.  I’m not trying to secretly infect myself into people’s lives.  I’m not actively trying to interfere with anyone’s life or image.  I’m also aware that people are appreciative after all this time to trust that.  That kind of responsibility and accountability is an asset in complex and troubling times.  You know you can always count on somebody to be a good person.  There’s a real kind of power there when every other man out there talks the same shit but betrays their words through their actions constantly.  I wake up every day at five am and wander into work at seven thirty.  I’m there an hour before everyone else.  I give people rulers and staplers while I check my mail and post pictures on the internet.  I’ve been attacked over the years more often than anybody will ever realize.  A lot of it was unfair and misinformed.  Years later people know exactly why.  And years later people appreciate why I keep my mouth shut and mind my own business.  I judge myself by ethics nobody ever asks about.  I don’t go with the flow often and yet somehow I’ve travelled the world silently for years by myself.  I got around on human kindness and honesty.  You can never betray that in yourself.  Especially if you are a Warlock.  I’m sure the demons would consume you if you did.  It seems like simple enough logic and mythology.  I do this and stay me however complex that seems because I care.  It’s not conditional on an outcome.  I’ll be truthful I don’t know where any of this is going.  I’m lost in the dark completely.  And yet no one on this planet can be me.  And I know how powerful that is.  It has never been easy.  But It’s worth it for me because I have love in my heart.  The people that I really share it with deeply know just how much of that there is to go around.  It’s something I protect because it’s worth fighting for.  A safe place to be free online as well as off.  Let’s keep fighting that battle first and foremost.  It’s always been the same for me and will be for the immediate future.  It may be dark but I see the light at the end of this tunnel.  Seasonal depression nothwithstanding.  <3 Tim

[chileanli]

Don’t Leave

I got depressed and inspired by angsty tumblr posts and ended up writing an angsty Mikayuu fic. It’s a bit of soulmate AU, in which Mika and Yuu keep seeing each other in their dreams but don’t remember the other’s name when they wake up, but the catch is that in this world, this is not common. It’s happening in a modern and normal AU but these two are soulmates trying to connect to each other via their dreams.

If you feel like suffering, welcome to my hell!

Read on Ao3

  Mika woke up with a sharp pang of remorse and with the ghost of a name in the tip of his tongue. He blinked once, twice, and realized with a soft gasp that there were tears on his eyes, and upon touching his face, he felt the line of tears that had dried up before he woke up. 

  Again. That boy had appeared in his dreams again.

  Mika sighed, in an effort to calm himself down, and ran his fingers through his hair. He shouldn’t have been surprised, considering all the times he had dreamt with the same boy since he was little, but this time, he felt that something else had happened, but couldn’t tell what.

  Dark, unruly hair and big green eyes, and a smile that had a warmth that rivaled the sun.

  Mika got up of his bed and went to wash his face. He stared back at his own reflection, eyes red with tears. Why had he been crying in his sleep?

  One of Mika’s first recollections of the boy was when he was 8 years old. He had been dreaming of puppies, and suddenly this boy appeared as well, laughing and playing with some of the dogs. His laughter was very clear and happy, and Mika felt himself attracted to it. When the other boy noticed Mika, he turned to him, smiled brightly and held a hand for him to take.

  Mika finished washing his face and went to change his clothes. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and saw that he still looked like he was going to cry in any minute, and thanked the gods he lived alone. He wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see him like this.

  Mika cried in horror when he came back home and saw that his family had been killed, and was much more horrified when he saw vampires still preying on the corpses. He ran away, and was able to lose them momentarily because he knew his house better than the monsters. However, he was soon found by a green-eyed vampire, who stared at him for a few seconds before grabbing him in bridal style and took him where the other vampires were. Mika was so scared he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He was going to die. But he never expected the vampire that held him to say,

“We’re keeping this one alive.”

  Mika looked up and saw that the vampire was smiling at him.

“You’ll be ok. I’m protecting you.”

  He didn’t know what possessed him, but in that instant he knew he could trust this vampire, so he just held to him and nodded.

  Mika didn’t have an appetite and skipped breakfast. He felt he was going to throw up if he forced something down, anyway. He still looked horrible, but he couldn’t afford to skip classes. This was his last year at university and couldn’t mess up now, especially with the strict professor Bathory.

  They were running as fast as the wind and laughing merrily. They shouldn’t have been, because they were on a job and people were suffering and they were supposed to be helping them, but they didn’t care. It was always so much fun to do things together, but things always got way too amusing when they hunted monsters as a pair. And today, they got a big mission! To kill a dragon!

“Hey, Mika!” said the green-eyed boy, grabbing his sword and flashing a smile. “I’m counting on you to watch my back!”

“Pft, like if I didn’t have to keep your ass out of trouble all the time, xxxxxxxx!”

“Don’t get cocky with me now! Let’s do it!”

  The black-haired boy leaped into action at once, without waiting for Mika’s reply. The blond sighed and quickly casted a reinforcement spell around the other boy before he also grabbed his sword.

  Mika took his bag and went to his university. Although still a bit shaky, he tried to ignore it and blasted music through his audiphones to distract himself. He supposed he could calm down in his way to his first class, hopefully. He left home early, so he was crossing his fingers to be lucky enough to get a seat in the back row far away from professor Bathory to avoid his nasty comments. It was always awful to arrive to the classroom 20 minutes early and find out that all the back seats were already occupied. Fuck Ferid Bathory and his weird remarks.

  Mika looked at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes were no more, and were replaced by red eyes, crimson and full of blood. He hated this. He was now a monster.

“Mika!”

  He turned and saw the familiar green eyes, clouded with worry. But he was not a boy anymore, he was a teenager like him and had grown a little bit more muscular. His military uniform matched his eyes and Mika couldn’t help but to smile.

“xxxxxxxx….”

“Mika, stop doing that.”

“Stop doing… what?”

“That, hating yourself.”

  Mika blinked in confusion, and the other teen sighed.

“You think that because you are now a vampire, you are a monster. That everyone hates you. But let me tell what! That’s bullshit. You are Mika and no one will ever be able to change that.”

“Sorry, what?”

“No matter what you become, we’re family, Mika, and we’ll always be together.”

  It sounded stupid, childish even, but it made Mika smile anyways.

  Mika arrived at his classroom and saw with relief that there was one seat available in the back row, but didn’t risk it and ran to it. He sat down and leaned his head on the table, feeling emotionally and physically tired. He wasn’t the only one, though: the whole classroom felt gloomy, and Mika knew what was everyone thinking. If professor Bathory’s classes weren’t compulsory and, to everyone’s dismay, useful, no one would be sitting there and withstand the eccentric teacher’s tales when he was done teaching the required topics for the day. 

  The window was slightly open and a cool breeze gently swayed the curtains. Mika was softly humming in the rocking chair, enjoying the warmth that came with spring and the smell of the flowers that were growing in the garden outside their house.

  A door opened and closed somewhere nearby, and Mika opened his eyes to see his green-eyed lover. They smiled at each other and the black-haired adult quietly approached him. He kissed Mika’s forehead before also kissing their baby, who had been sleeping in Mika’s arms, but was gently awoken by the kiss. The baby had soft black hair, and striking cerulean eyes, which shone in delight upon seeing his father come back.

  Professor Bathory arrived on time as usual and started the class in his sing-song voice, making some students wince. Mika straighten himself and tried paying attention to class, but his mind kept going back to the boy in his dreams.

  They were in a secluded hut, arguing. Mika was scared, he knew he was the only one who could stop the green-eyed teen before he destroyed the world, and even though he had prepared the necessary words, upon meeting him his mind went blank.

  ‘If I don’t do this right, not only is the world doomed, but xxxxxxxx will die…’

“xxxxxxxx! You don’t have to do this!”

“I need to, Mika. I am the only one who can make a better world.”

“A BETTER WORLD? What you are doing will destroy it! Who would enjoy this better world you speak of if everyone dies in the process!?”

  The black-haired teen’s eyes went big in confusion, and after a few seconds he gently smiled.

“For us, Mika… I’m making a world where we can be together.”

  Mika felt his throat make a weird sound and felt his eyes grow big.

“This world…” the green-eyed teen continued, speaking softly. “This world won’t let us be together. My parents, this rotten society… I’ll end those. And then we can be together forever…”

“xxxxxxxx, that’s—”

“I love you, Mika.”

  Mika felt a tear running down his cheek.

  The other teen gently wiped Mika’s tears and tenderly kissed him in the lips. The blond, albeit surprised, closed his eyes to enjoy the moment, as he had also loved him dearly and never thought his feelings were reciprocated. But suddenly, he felt dizzy, and when he opened his eyes, he saw those beautiful green eyes looking down on him.

“I’m sorry, Mika… You understand, don’t you?”

  And Mika realized he had been somehow drugged and lost consciousness, not before whispering the boy’s name, like it was the most sacred thing in existence.

  Sudden movement and noises distracted Mika, who realized with a start that the class had finished and everyone was leaving the classroom. The blond sighed when he noticed that he hadn’t taken any notes today and prayed that professor Bathory hadn’t said anything important.

  Mika was crying in the doorframe, and his tears wouldn’t stop flowing. He tried blinking to clear his vision, and was met with sad emerald eyes.

“Mika, don’t cry.”

“B-But—!”

“Please.”

“Then don’t leave!”

“I have to.”

“Don’t leave me alone, xxxxxxxx!”

  The black-haired teen smiled sadly and gently cupped Mika’s face.

“Good bye, Mika.”

  Without waiting for a reply, as always, he turned his back on Mika and walked away.

“No, xxxxxxxx! Don’t go!”

  Mika ran after the fading back, his hand stretched as much as he could, his voice screaming until it was so sore he thought he wouldn’t be able to talk anymore, but there was no one in front of him anymore.

“xxxxxxxx…”

  The last cry somehow was still echoing in his mind, but he couldn’t recall what he was screaming at the time. His head started to hurt, and Mika decided he could afford to ditch his next class and went to the benches near his faculty to rest.

  He has had dreams with the same boy for years. And not only that, that same boy also seemed to grow with him, as Mika had seen him become a young adult thorough the years. But Mika had never seen this guy in his life, in his real life. He was sure he would have remembered those vivid green eyes, but he was positive that the first time he saw them was in a dream. And the worst thing was that he never remembered his name. In his dreams, his name was always one of the first things he would say and one of the last, and saying that name never failed to make him happy. But he always woke up with the ghost of it, never recalling it. And he hated himself for that.

  Mika looked up at the sky. What were those dreams? Maybe, maybe if he was aware that he was in a dream in the next one, he could try asking the boy. Was he real, or was he a part of his imagination? Because the feelings that grew in his heart during all those years were, at least for Mika, very real and truthful. Mika was in love with a man that only appeared in his dreams.

  But the next dream never came.

  Mika would have… normal dreams. He would have dreams that could perfectly happen in the near future, or very stupid dreams, but the green-eyed guy never appeared again. Mika always looked around frenetically, sometimes calling his name, but he never came. The black-haired guy had always been by his side, smiling and extending a hand for Mika to take, but that was no more. 

  Mika was left alone in his dreams.

  A few months later, Mika was invited to a wedding ceremony. Apparently, his father’s boss had a son that was getting married, so he had received two invitations. Unfortunately, his mother had grown ill and had to be suddenly hospitalized, and not wanting the invitation to go to waste, his father had asked Mika to go in his mother’s stead. The blond wasn’t fond of gatherings, but he supposed he could try to spend more time with his father, since they hadn’t met much after Mika started university.

  The wedding hall was amazingly big, and Mika was taken aback with the decorations and the quality of the snacks served at the reception. His father laughed quietly seeing his face, and explained that the groom had married into a very prestigious and important family who were very extravagant and liked to throw big parties for big events. Mika lifted a brow: if they were already talking about the groom marrying into the bride’s family before the actual wedding, it could only mean that the bride’s family was exceptionally prestigious. Or the groom’s was a bit pitiful. But how, and why, would such a little lady marry someone of lower status in this conservative society? Mika shrugged and decided not to ponder on it anymore, as it was not his business.

“Hey, Mika,” said his father suddenly. “That’s the groom.”

  Mika looked in the direction his father pointed, and saw dark, unruly hair and big green eyes that shone like emeralds.

  Mika felt his body grow limp and suddenly he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“That’s Yuuichiro,” continued his father, smiling and not noticing how his son had grown quiet. “He’s marrying into the prestigious Hiiragi family. And the bride is apparently a beauty! Lucky boy!”

  Mika stopped listening after hearing the name. Yuuichiro. Yuuichiro. Yuu… 

“Yuu-chan…”

  He saw how the other guy stilled for a moment, like if he had felt Mika calling him, and turned around. When their eyes met, Mika’s legs grew weaker and he found himself on the ground.

  He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything. Everything sounded and looked like the static of his old TV around him. Yuu-chan, Yuu-chan… That was him, the boy of his dreams… He had finally found him…

  On his wedding day.

  Mika wanted to cry, scream because it was unfair, unfair. He was there first, in some sense, they were always so close and were always together in his dreams, but Yuu-chan wasn’t just a dream, he was real and standing close to him, and yet…

“Hey, you alright?”

  Mika would have recognized that voice anywhere. He looked up and saw concerned green eyes, and a hand that was extended to him so he could stand up.

  The blond took the hand shakily.

“Yuu-chan…” 

  The hand stilled. Mika looked up again.

“Who are you?” asked the green-eyed man, frowning in confusion.

  Mika had learned through his years to read the other man in his dreams, knew what he was thinking of just by looking at him. And he just knew what Yuu-chan was thinking right now.

  Yuu-chan didn’t recognize him.

I wonder if I successfully dragged someone down with my depression? When I get better I might try to write a continuation, I already have some ideas in my mind but... I’ll need a happier mindset to write a happy ending for the three of them, because I won’t ditch Shinoa. She deserves better.

[renaroo]

Double Time (18/24)

Disclaimer: Red vs Blue and related characters are the property of Rooster Teeth. Warnings: Language, Canon-typical violence Pairings: Tuckington, Chex Rating: T Synopsis: [Hero Time Sequel] After the events of Hero Time, the city and Blood Gulch are prepared for the true return of superheroes in a big way. But while Washington is attempting to adjust to a new relationship and a new living arrangement, the call of new heroes and a new mayor mean major changes for his professional life as well as his personal one. How will the balance of values fare when his new partners come to test everything he’s made of.

A/N: I was so, so broken up over Adam West dying He was such a fundamental part of getting into the world of superheroes for me and I loved and admired him so dearly. I’m not sure if my adoration for him and his incarnation of Batman comes through in my writing at all, but even if it doesn’t I hope that I and others inspired by his heroics find a way to continue the legacy that endeared him to us oh so much. 

Special thanks to @analiarvb, @secretlystephaniebrown, @i-stole-orions-heart, @cobaltqueen, @icefrozenover, @thepheonixqueen, Enmuse, @a-taller-tale, Yin, @notatroll7, @vpzerada, @washingtonstub, and Awesome_Milkshakes on AO3 and tumblr for the wonderful feed back! I truly appreciate it more than you know.

It’s a Trap!

He honest to god didn’t know what to make of her.

“What’s the matter, Wash? Cat got your tongue?”

Junior, somewhat in spite toward Washington, began snorting in laughter which only doubled when the hero gave him a warning glare. It was a lost cause getting any respect around everyone there, that much was for sure. Someday Wash was going to accept that as the status quo of Blood Gulch and not be as irritated by it as he was that moment.

Refocusing on the redheaded woman before him, Wash wasn’t sure what to do next. She clearly was someone he remembered, and yet someone he wasn’t sure he knew at all. A paradoxical confusion he hadn’t felt since the time he realized that Texas was still alive and around to lend, or in most cases not lend, her helping hand in Blood Gulch.

“You’re… from Freelancer,” he put together.

The woman stared back at him for a moment, a flicker of disappointment across her face before she sighed and lifted up her goggles. “I was kinda wondering what the time paradox was going to do with all the nonsense that happened in Freelancer. Was kinda hoping I had left more of an impact.” She looked into Wash’s eyes, her green eyes nearly electric in they brightness. “Guess I could have done more to reach out and make an impact to other members of the team, too, though. For that I’m sorry, Washington.”

Suddenly, it all came colliding on him at once. Wash let go of Junior and got to his feet.

“Field leader — Carolina. How… But… You…” he stammered before holding up his hands and taking a long breath. He then looked back at her seriously. “Explain the time paradox comment because I find when words like that are used, the other nonsense falls in order or by the sideline.”

“Of course,” Carolina answered before holding up a finger. “Give me one and three quarters of a second, though.”

“Wha—“ Wash began.

Suddenly a blur of blue swept past him from one direction, nearly causing him to stumble back along with Junior, who hit the ground rear first, and then from the other side, which blew Wash forward before he found more solid footing. Carolina was standing in front of them still, hands on her hips and things seemingly unchanged.

That was, seemingly unchanged until an explosion went off down the road from them

Shocked, Washington and Junior both turned toward the explosion and looked amazed.

“What the hell was that?” Wash demanded.

“Just for amusement’s sake, do you want that answered or do you want the paradox thing answered?” Carolina asked dryly.

“Which answer is more relevant to keeping us further from death?” Wash asked critically.

“There’s a debate to be had on that,” Carolina hummed in response, foot tapping.

“Forget it — answer the explosion thing first!” Wash decided, throwing up his hands.

“Right, that was the Felix stand up cut out,” Carolina answered, pointing to the display behind them.

Caught off guard, both Wash and Junior spun around toward the display only to see it completely gone, only the Wash cut out he had grabbed before was still with them. Then he turned back to Carolina.

“Why was it rigged to explode!?” he demanded.

“I thought that part was obvious at this point,” Carolina said, cocking her head to the side. “Didn’t you read the note I gave you?”

“The note—“ Wash began before thinking back on the day at the park. “You were warning me about Felix in the park… and now you’re saving me from exploding posters of him.” He looked at Carolina. “Sounds like you’re coming back from the dead to tell me that Felix is evil.”

“Well… I mean, have you met him?” Carolina asked. “No one talks with that many double meanings without being a secret bad guy. I mean, why else would someone be so cryptic all the damn time?”

Washington and Junior glanced at each other before looking back to Carolina.

“People say I’m cryptic,” Wash pointed out. “Usually it’s to protect the people I love from my identity.”

“That they know about?” Carolina asked critically.

“You’re cryptic — leaving a random note in the park instead of saying hello. Sounds like you’re evil,” Wash argued.

“I couldn’t walk up and say hi, you were being watched by Felix. And I was totally right,” Carolina reminded him. “You’re welcome by the way. For both saves.”

“You sound eerily like Tex,” Wash said with a squint.

For a moment, the comment seemed to tun Carolina almost to stone, her face frozen in shock.

Washington, a little concerned, reached out toward her to see if she had somehow managed to hurt herself. “Carolina? Are you…”

Suddenly Carolina grabbed him by his shoulders and began quickly shaking him, an intensity of fire in her eyes as she did so. “You take that comment back right now I swear to god if anyone heard you if somehow she heard you don’t you realize how offensive that is oh my god what’s wrong with you can’t you see that there’s no worst way to offend a woman children spend their whole lives trying not to grow up to be just like either of their parents you shut up don’t you know what’s good for you punk take it back right now—“

Junior honked in alarm while Washington tried not to grow dizzy from the shaking.

Finally, he grabbed Carolina’s hands and forcefully yanked them off his shoulders. “Stop that! I can’t understand a single word you’re saying!” he snapped at her. “What was that? Super speed?”

Carolina blinked a few times then put a hand against her forehead. “Wow, sorry. That was maybe an overreaction there.”

“You think?” Wash asked critically.

“Look, I meant what I said in my note the other day,” Carolina said, dropping her hand and looking intently into Washington’s eyes. “Both that you shouldn’t trust people you don’t know… and that you need to put some faith in the people you do know right now. Because what’s going on? It’s too big to explain to you just yet.”

Washington crossed his arms. “Well that statement sure builds a bridge of trust between us,” he said sarcastically.

“I just saved you from a car and from an exploding Felix,” she counted on her fingers. “Exploding Felixes, by the way, have trended toward a bad omen for you lately if you haven’t noticed.”

Blinking, Wash rubbed at his neck. “Well… you’re not wrong.”

“Right. Because I’m right about this,” Carolina argued flippantly. “But even if you can’t trust me because of some paradox I’m not going to explain to you right now—“

“Blargh!” Junior pointed out.

“Agreed, it’s very alarming that she keeps mentioning things she can’t mention,” Wash muttered.

“You’re not going to trust me, fine. I’m pretty much an unknown in this equation, I get that,” Carolina remarked. “But if you can’t trust me, then by all means, trust the advice I gave you before. Trust who you know.”

Fo a moment, Wash wasn’t even sure what she was talking about, but the events of the last few days all came clicking together, and his eyes widened. “You’ve been working with Tex and Church behind the scenes. You’re the reason I’ve not been seeing much of Tex — you and whatever it is she has Church working on decoding.”

Carolina waved her hand in a seesaw fashion. “Eh. I’ve kept away from dealing with Church… for… reasons.”

“Cryptic again,” Wash warned.

“You are such a killjoy compared to the Wash I used to know,” Carolina said. “I kind of like it. You have the air of experienced badass. You even have a sidekick. Man, it’s like you grew up on us—“

“Ju—“ Wash caught himself and shook his head. “The Extraterrestrial Kid is not my sidekick. I don’t believe in sidekicks. I think they churn out kids into mini child soldiers and set their lives on a path not completely of their own choosing.”

Raising an eyebrow, Carolina crossed her arms. “Wow. Pretty strong opinion for a former sidekick.”

Junior gasped and covered his mouth like the world’s largest secret had just been revealed to him.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Wash said flippantly. He never took his eyes off of Carolina. “I deserve to know what’s going on if it’s my life that’s on the line. If Felix is bad, then he also knows far more about my personal life than I care for him to know. And that’s not getting into the situation with Locus and the mayors.”

“Yeah, we’re trying to figure out which of them is the pack mule for their payments,” Carolina said with a shrug. “Church was supposed to be finished with that by now but, fuck if someone here didn’t happen to distract him with lots of useless security upgrades.”

Washington raised his hands up. “Wait a minute — what are you talking about? Someone’s paying Locus?”

“And Felix,” Carolina explained. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice that their costumes match.”

While Washington stared straight back at Carolina, Junior snorted behind him.

“It has to be Kimball — didn’t you see how she’s the one putting up these traps?” Wash said, pointing to the broken Kimball stand up. “It’s obvious.”

“Uh, obviously a plant,” Carolina argued. “Would you just trust that I’m on this already? Sheesh.”

“No, you said to trust who I know, and I’d trust this more if it was coming out of Tex’s mouth,” Washington said firmly. “Speaking of which, why isn’t she the one here dropping these morale bombs on me right now instead of you?”

“Wash, do you really not know what’s happening right now?” Carolina asked skeptically. “Weren’t you the sidekick to a detective superhero?”

Squinting at her, Wash began to feel even more on edge than he had before. “What do you mean?”

“Think about what’s coming up, and why someone just wanted to take you out of the picture,” Carolina said, waving to the cardboard cut outs behind them. “There’s an election — one where funds are being funneled to mercenaries with incredible powers. And tonight is the night of their big debate.”

Wash looked at her incredulously. “And—“

“And anyone who could put whatever plans they have in danger is going to be taken out of the picture,” she said seriously. “Anyone.”

Eyes widening, the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. “Tucker,” he gasped. “Tex is going to save him?”

It was then Carolina’s turn to squint and tilt her head. “Who? I was talking about the kids you were training—“

“Goddammit!” Wash shouted, throwing down the cut out and leaping past Carolina while Junior let out a series of alarmed honks. “Watch Junior!”

“What?” Carolina called out behind him. “I don’t do kids— Ow fuck! It just bit me—“

Washington didn’t have time to look back and scold either of them.

He had to get to Tucker. He had to call the Reds. He needed to check on even Church.

And he had to beat himself up for not realizing the danger himself right away.

[kingjude13]

Becoming 2 people

Its gotten strange how polarizing ive gotten I'm very extreme and its gotten a harder to deal with and maintain at this point I just trapped myself in a meaningless loop til I can figure out what my next step aught to be at this stage in life in not sure I have many options school is expensive pointless I'd have to retake all my high school classes which isn't going to let me focus and on top what would I study that doesn't capitalize off of others staying where I am as working class is fine but where to live why to live there who to live with ive got nothing for any of these and its become fairly apparent that I might be working in no where for no reason with no one and that'll be my life I cant continue living like this its maddening I'm going insane I'm not eating normal I'm not sleeping normal my mind is erupted in chaos paranoia is rampent and I dont know who to trust I'm afraid ill start cutting ties again ive gotten close but the poison that is social medias kept me held on but for what point is there seems to me as if disappearing would be nice to change area change group but am I really satisfied with ghosting or do I just want to see if id be missed how long until they noticed... Would they ever my family wouldn't say much not that they'd contact one another could be a year or 2 even and by then what affect would it have they'd go on living as they have shed be off probably the first to ditch... Ah who am I kidding they might love me dearly and ive got no clue this lonelyness is getting to me also the first days when it hit it was rough at this point its a lagging sore agony that doesnt let up and it only continues to broil and fester in me works good to get my mind off it but I end up leaving wanting to fight smoking a bowl is great but it disappoints my parents I lay in bed for hours contemplating my existence and then I sleep in not sure if I dream but if I do I forget them anf I wake up and repeat a very stimulating process but that along with the many ways spent wandering and the flaked dates the lonesome cruises through Houston I'm at a point of being lonely that my own thoughts are unwanted I try to be stoned all I can but there's only so long a high lasts and only so much money to spend

What am I even saying anymore its 5 am and I'm venting to my own Tumblr because ive ran out of people to talk to its time we face the truth we dont expect anyone to read this we don't think anyone's even gonna notice this you wrote this as a cry for help that I know won't come no one cares about us they've said it before why wouldn't they have a problem dropping us we had 1 tie to them and its basically gone fucking face it fool you've fucked up the one thing that was good for you

There's no way its like that c they like us they tolerate us at the very least she's always had our backs no matter what he's a great friend and she cares I hope but she does I put faith in them that they'll reach out maybe were not reaching hard enough I mean really we aren't doing much to stand out it seems like you've made us moody so that you can keep us down you want to make us sad so you can win fine but when were lonely and ready to face mortality you can answer

Alright kiddo hold the fuvk up right there before you get off your high horse I want you to remember that you were the one who fed him his bulshit lies on how this world worked you made is feel like we were right when we were wrong you told us how to hurt people maybe I did it may e I loved it but its your fault for telling me how in the first place you're pathetic you're a worm on my hook you're beta jude you make us fucking sick with how you bend to this shit Sam bitches you out today and you didn't even flinch you fucking punk god Damn it I hate us

Look the sam things different he bitches all the damn time but also you need to stop using the b word like that

Okay first off fuck you 2nd dont be a tool and I won't insult you jack ass

You're the one who shoots us in the foot

Yea and you're the one who turns it into a deadly infection moron I'm here lol 5% of the time the rest id just you making a shit storm while the shit hits the fan

I maintain what te fuck I can but you going ape shit and trying to get us to berzerk is not fucking helping you could help by getting a real good paying job for you to work at then you can complain bit you hate this job I'm the one who pays bills you fucko