#anyway another thing i want to point out is that all of this that i said about acting is also very relative

[alchemistc]

favors

Tommy's the kind of asshole who checks his phone at the table in the middle of a first date, now.

In his defence, it hasn't been a great first date. And not in any sort of charming way, either.

In his defence, he's been waiting on this text for what feels like longer than it actually has been (four weeks, three days - he feels stupid admitting he's got a rough estimate of the hours too, but the point is he's been waiting. Hoping. Took this invitation to dinner as an attempt to remind himself he was the one who walked out.)

Tommy is absolutely the kind of asshole who glances up from his lap to find his date staring at him with his jaw clenched and doesn't bother to make more of an excuse than "Sorry, family thing, I gotta go."

Tommy's the kind of asshole who drops three twenties on the table and doesn't bother to say goodbye as he winds his way through tables - this place was pretentious as fuck, anyway - and pushes through the rotating door.

He's not even halfway to his truck when his phone displays an incoming call.

The last time he'd seen that name flash across his screen he'd been - well, he'd been a ball of nerves for all of five seconds before a winded voice had asked him to commit some light treason and Tommy had hopped to.

"Evan. Hey."

He remembers Evan had always thought he was so cool, and he sort of wishes Evan could see him now, with sweaty palms and a nervous hitch to his step as he twists around the wire fencing that will lead him to the truck he'd dropped thirty-five bucks to park, in this stupid downtown lot for this stupid date that hadn't distracted him for a minute at the stupid restaurant that only served tapas and hipster whiskey.

His voice is a little tremulous, a little off. "Hi Tommy."

Tommy doesn't waste time. He's done enough of that, and Evan sounds - Jesus he sounds awful. Sad, deep in his bones. Tired. A little out of it. "Everything okay?"

"I did have feelings for you. When I said that. I - It was such a shitty thing to say and I realized I never apologized for it even though I meant to and...and I did. I do, still, really."

It's the kind of opening Tommy couldn't have dreamt up in a million years. It's solid proof that Evan has worked it over in his mind at least half as many times as Tommy, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, how he'd ruined it so quickly when everything he'd been a sad sack about pretending he didn't want had been right there, ready for the taking. When he'd done that devastating bambi-eyed, through the lashes glance up, even though they were the same fucking height, and Tommy had stuck his foot in his mouth so badly he'd knocked out a couple teeth.

"Okay. I -."

Whatever he'd have come up with in that moment escapes his brain a second later when Evan continues.

"Which is why what I wanted to ask you may be, like, super awkward."

Tommy's a little grateful to find his truck is only two spaces from where he is at the moment. Has to bite back the sharp deprecating laugh when he realizes this is another fucking favor, not a goddamn reconciliation. He left a date for this.

A bad one.

But still.

"Okay." Clipped is a good term for the way the word comes out of his mouth. He's already wincing before he's even finished saying it, because if he can tell Evan's hurting from his voice alone, surely Evan can tell from his own tone that he's...annoyed. In pain. Wishing he could rip the memory of Evan Buckley from the spot it's nestled beneath his ribcage, where he can't shake it loose.

Evan's quiet for a long, long moment. They'd been great at getting immediately horny any time there was even a hint of strife. Not so easy to do when they haven't been together now for longer than they ever were. "I was wondering if I could borrow your truck on Tuesday."

And that's - that's a fairly reasonable request, as far as the 118 standard goes. Still makes him want to cry, a little.

"Can I ask why?"

"It's... Uh...?" The pause lasts long enough that Tommy has to check and make sure Evan's still on the line. His next words are quieter, but he can hear the tremble in them. Has to bite down the urge to make himself a shield against whatever it is that has him so emotional. Not his job, anymore. If it ever even had been.

The farther removed he is from all of this, the more he wonders if he really had imagined the connection between them. How the intimate moments felt charged with more than a desire to rip each other's clothes off, how the silly moments had felt like the prologue of a long and happy story.

"It's fine, Evan. I'll, uh - have to check my schedule but I think I can make it work."

He's free Tuesday. He and his truck both are. But maybe... Maybe this has run its course. Maybe Tommy will have to make more of an effort, his next bad first date.

"Eddie's moving back," Evan says, and there's a weird twist to his voice, a quirk around the name Tommy doesn't recognize. He'd always said "Eddie" with the kind of reverence Tommy couldn't fully grasp, a superhero and a confidante all rolled up in the lazy smirk and cow-brown eyes of a man Tommy had no hope of beating out on the Important To Evan Buckley scale. But if Tommy had to put a description to it, Evan kind of spits the name, now. "And until I can figure out a place to stay I need to get a few things in storage quickly. I just thought - it was stupid. Obviously it's short notice, and you shouldn't feel obligated to -."

"My spare room is empty," Tommy says. Tommy lies, more accurately. It's currently storing all the renovation shit he's been accumulating since the breakup turned him into an insane person pretending he knows a damn thing about fixing up a house.

This pause seems to hold a little more weight to it.

"...okay?" And there's - there's something there, in his voice, sun warm and yellow, bacon cooling on a paper towel and eggs still not plated while Evan swallowed and asked the one question Tommy had been hoping he wouldn't ask.

"I just meant - why spend the money on a storage unit, right?"

"Tommy."

"Let me check my schedule. I can get back to you. If Tuesday works, we can just - we can figure it out from there."

"Tommy."

And that's his "you're spiralling" voice. Tommy hadn't heard it often. Too busy trying to be as cool as his shiny new boyfriend thought he was. Too busy choking down the urge to sink a knife into his ribcage and carve out his heart to hand it over.

"I'll let you know by tomorrow morning," Tommy promises, and before he lets his words get away from him he ends the call.

Jesus fuck.

Hell.

What the fuck?

---

Tommy's so frayed with nerves he spends the entire drive slowly wearing a groove into the side of his cheek. By the time he makes it to the quiet street and sees Evan's Jeep parked on the curb, gate open and already stuffed full of boxes Tetris-style, he feels like he might just fucking explode.

It makes the terse, perfunctory head nod from Eddie on his way up the paved path just that much more confusing. That much more frustrating. He's got a set of keys swinging from his fingers, and doesn't even glance behind him as Evan pops the door open with a hip and stacks a box on top of two others already sitting in the porch.

There's clearly more going on here than Tommy is privy to.

"You aren't helping?" It's an innocent question. He doesn't even mean anything by it. Across the yard, Evan goes tense. Halfway down the drive, Eddie goes still, and swivels his gaze to Tommy.

"No one asked me to." By the stoop, Evan tips his gaze down, suddenly incredibly interested in whatever the label on the box he just set down says. He seems small. Not the man who'd guided him backwards up the lawn with so much tongue Tommy hadn't realized where he was until they were already inside. Not the man who'd confidently held a funeral for a long dead cowboy and roped Tommy into it without a care in the world that Tommy didn't believe in ghosts.

"Well, if anyone else was subletting you'd probably have had to give them more than a weeks notice to pack up their shit and leave, so I figured you'd be helping," Tommy says, because whatever the hell is going on with Eddie's face right now has him ready to raise locked wrists to chin height.

Eddie's tongue rolls along the inside of his cheek. "Buck says he's got it."

Knife, meet tension.

Tommy's always been more of a blunt instrument.

"Right."

"Didn't realize 'got it' meant calling in a favor with his ex, but hey, I haven't been around, in a while."

"Do we have a problem, Diaz?"

Eddie levers himself into the driver's seat of a vehicle that very distinctly isn't his truck. "Lot of that going around, at the moment."

That stone-faced look from the funeral is back on Evan's face.

Tommy's fist are clenched. He doesn't have a clue when that happened, or why it takes quite so much effort to shake his fingers loose.

Eddie clocks it. Stares for a long, long moment. Slams the door closed and backs out of the drive a little quicker than advisable, if the glare from the neighbor watering her hydrangeas is anything to go by.

He doesn't quite peel off down the street, but it seems like it takes him some effort to drive like a responsible adult.

Evan doesn't meet his gaze when he lopes across the lawn to meet him at the door.

He's gotta break the silence somehow. "So. Diaz seems pissed at me."

"It's not you."

"Uhuh."

"It's - I said something he -." Evan frowns. Twists a finger up into the slack of the tape along the top of one box. "Same old story. Buck makes it all about himself."

Tommy's missing something.

Tommy absolutely doesn't have the right to pry.

"What the hell does that mean?" Tommy asks, and watches the marble crumble.

---

It takes a day and a half to get everything out of Eddie's. Another half a day to stuff whatever they can into Tommy's bare spare room.

He'd bought a shed and stuffed the contents of his reno-supplies into it indiscriminately two nights earlier, at the ass end of three 24's from hell, and throws up an ironic thanks that Evan hadn't come by nearly often enough to be surprised by the new shed, or the dozen half-finished projects littering the house.

Tommy learns a lot of things that make him want to scream, over the course of the four-day span they squeeze that moving timeframe into.

It takes everything in him not to shoulder-check Eddie on the way out, once the final box is loaded into the bed of Tommy's truck.

He'd given them some privacy, before they left. Hopeful that Eddie would back down from this escalating argument of theirs, hopeful that he'd remember that his best fucking friend had sacrificed a hell of a lot, to allow him to move to El Paso. That he'd lost more since.

Evan hadn't spoken, the entire drive back to Tommy's.

He asks Evan out to coffee a moment before he offers to let him sleep on the couch until he finds something more permanent.

He should be less surprised than he is when they end up naked and sweaty and panting in his bed an hour later.

"We have to stop doing this."

Evan bites a nipple, and Tommy hisses.

"I'm serious, Evan. I can't do casual with you."

That gives him Evan's full attention. "What does that mean?"

"It means when I sleep with you I'm definitely having feelings for you."

He regrets the comment. Evan blows a raspberry into his sternum, and rolls onto his side to take in Tommy's expression. It's gotta be - well, it's gotta be a fucking mess. Just an absolute shit show of terror at having revealed too much. "I deserved that one."

Tommy smooths a hand over his shoulder. "You didn't, actually." After what he's been hearing about his friends and family, lately, Tommy's suddenly very aware of the words coming out of his mouth. "What I was trying to dance around is telling you I want to try again, and I don't want to fuck it up by falling into bed without actually...talking about it."

Evan snorts. Hitches his leg a little higher across Tommy's thigh. Yeah. Too late for that.

"I baked, to stop thinking about you. I baked cookies, and brownies, and three kinds of bread, and a Baked Alaska, and twelve different banana bread recipes, and - and it didn't change the fact that all I wanted to do was talk to you. See your face when you pull that stupidly bitchy look every time I don't know one of your references. Hold your hand and - and just be somewhere with you. Didn't matter where, I just...wanted. And I couldn't have it. So I baked."

"You made a Baked Alaska?"

"Tommy," Evan chides, but there are tears springing to the corner of Tommy's eyes and -

God he'd fucked this up so royally.

"Move in with me," Tommy says, the hysteria bubbling up in his throat, and he swallows it down, and down, and down again, because as the words settle under his skin, he realizes they feel right. What Evan had wanted, all those months ago, he'd wanted it too. He'd just been so fucking sure it would destroy him, in the end.

He's so goddamn tired of denying that what he really wants is for the rest of his life to be storied by memories of the man at his side, right here in this moment.

It's terrible timing. The worst idea. They're both rung out emotionally, grief and anger and insecurities bubbling just under the surface, ready to rise and make their lives miserable the moment they leave this bubble.

They haven't talked about any of it, not really.

"I'm serious. Why be apart, and all that?"

"Tommy."

The way his name curls out of Evan Buckley's mouth is like a favorite song. He never gets tired of hearing it.

Even when it's exasperated and confused. "I'm in love with you," Tommy murmurs, because his streak of insanity clearly hasn't passed. Evan's breath hitches. The worst part is that it's true. In a way he doesn't know how to quantify. He'd do a hell of a lot more than steal government property, for this man. He'd stay, for this man, at the risk of destroying his entire soul.

"Don't ask me because you feel sorry I'm technically homeless." It's an out. Teed up and ready for Tommy to swing. Tommy goes for the bunt.

"Pretty sure that was more of a demand than a question. You can say no."

Evan peeks through his lashes, chin tipped against Tommy's chest. "What if you change your mind?"

Well. That's a sore subject. Should have expected that.

Tommy slips a hand down his side. Gathers up his hand to slide their fingers together. "I won't. Believe me, at this point I've tried."

There's a quirk to Evans smile he hasn't seen in a long time. He's missed it. God, he's missed it.

This doesn't fix anything. Not a damn thing.

But Tommy doesn't want him to spend a single night going forward wondering whether or not he's worth all the trouble the rest of his family seems to have made him feel he is.

They'd been there, before. Right on the edge of something serious. Something permanent.

They can get it back.

"You're being serious," Evan comments, like he needs the confirmation just to make sure he's not hallucinating. Tommy hooks one of his legs, rolls until Evan is half under him.

"Baked Alaska serious," he intones, just to see Evan laugh.

"Where am I gonna put my bike rack?" he asks, after a serious, weighty pause, and Tommy presses in to suck Evans lower lip between his teeth in retaliation.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

heyo! this isnt really about the comic, but i was wondering---do you ever feel weird talking about rose's identity as pink diamond? ive been thinking about it and ive always felt strangely odd about referring to rose as pink diamond. i think it almost sort of feels disrespectful, like deadnaming? its just something thats been on my mind haha

I actually really appreciate you giving me a chance to rant about this a bit.

This is a thing that bothers me. A fair bit.

No. No you shouldn't.

Alright, but let's step back and discuss.

The truth is, I don't actually think my stance on this is THAT extreme.

There are people that make a direct connection from Rose's predicament to deadnaming. And while I agree that this is an apt metaphor, it's also slightly more complex than that. Should we, as an audience, constantly refer to ALL iterations of the gem now known as Rose as only "Rose Quartz"?

I personally don't think so. I think there are times when it's narratively appropriate to refer to her as Pink Diamond.

When?

When she's Pink Diamond.

Like, yes, there are entire spans of story when Rose Quartz simply did not exist, as a concept. And if I am talking about her time living as a Diamond, I think it's fully appropriate to refer to her as Pink.

But the thing is. The thing IS.

Rose CHANGED. That's the entire--that's the whole POINT.

PINK changed. Into Rose.

And was it something that wiped her slate clean? No. Was it something that erased her past mistakes? No. Did it magically, all at once, make her into a better gem and a better person?

No.

But. She did give up that identity as Pink. When she started a war - that wasn't as Pink Diamond. ROSE started that war. When she had Steven - that wasn't as Pink Diamond. ROSE made that choice. It's an important distinction, and it's not only more respectful to her character, it's also important AS A VIEWER to realize that Rose is responsible for things in the same capacity as Pink.

If we just erase her transformation into Rose, and call her Pink Diamond across the board, we are making a statement - no matter if it's consciously or not - that nothing Rose did to change herself MATTERED. That her past, her Homeworld-assigned identity, will FOREVER be more important than anything she did to change herself thereafter.

We are submitting to the same ideals that Homeworld pushed on us as the antithesis of the whole show.

I just can't get behind that.

....

And look, I get it. It's fun to be in the comments when things like THIS happen in my comic:

And go off like "OOOOH, PINK, YOUR SECRET'S ALMOST OUT BABE, YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR BACK"

I don't necessarily want to shame those people because I think it's the same impulse that makes people scream like baboons when they're at a sportsball match and one little guy in a colored shirt gets the ball from ANOTHER little guy in a DIFFERENT shirt and it activates some sort of neuron that makes the thinking stop.

However. It does feel weird to me because

That's not Pink!

That's not Pink, fellas! It's Rose. She's been Rose for like 5000 years.

She WAS Pink Diamond, yes. She isn't any longer.

Pink Diamond is gone. ROSE has to deal with Pink Diamond's past now.

Give her some credit. Let her carry the sins of BOTH people. She deserves it. And there's more drama in it, anyway.

[op-sys-chaos]

One day, annoyed at the questions, he snaps and yells at them for what they did. The JL is promptly confused. They didn’t know about this.

Turns out, the phone-answering intern who picked up all of the Amity calls was secretly a GIW plant.

The JL promptly makes an example of the guy, publicly apologizing to Amity Park and warning the US government that they’re on thin ice and one more incident like this will cause the JL to formally denounce the US government and move their operation to another country. They don’t want to, they say, but they will if the government forces their hand.

The US government promptly apologizes but it’s an empty apology. The JL does the diplomatic equivalent of raising an eyebrow and going “Mhm, sure…”

They don’t accept the government’s apology until what little remains of the GIW is dismantled, all members are locked up for what they’ve done (Danny provided evidence of the crimes committed against the sentient species of ghosts and how blatantly it’s a violation of the meta protection acts), and the anti-ecto acts are repealed for being against the meta protection acts. At which point the JL says “fine, apology accepted, but you’re still on thin ice.”

Danny, meanwhile, gets a front row seat to his far the JL goes to protect him the second they learn what happened. And he’s considering being willing to forgive them.

And then he finds out that Batman is repurposing GIW weaponry to be less horrifyingly evil but still functional for containing ghost threats.

At first, Danny is furious - those are the weapons that killed his friends. But once he sees the care with which Batman is making sure they can’t ever be used like that again, and also sees that Batman has used what he learned from taking them apart to make Danny a GIW-weapon-disabler (basically an EMP but those GIW weapons), he decides to hear Batman out. Batman explains that he wants to be able to contain ghosts safely until they can get Danny or someone competent like him to the scene to handle things with minimal civilian damage. Danny reluctantly admits that it’s a good plan.

Eventually, Constantine runs out of favors. But he calls Danny anyway for the next emergency. “Danny, I know I probably shouldn’t be asking, but… any chance you’re willing to help? Batman has temporarily contained the ghost threat, but it’s strong and only a matter of time before it gets out somehow.”

And Danny goes to help.

The Necromancer

DP x DC Prompt inspired by 'The Ghost Warlock' on A03 by Cas3_Blanca

The Justice League has been dealing with matters related to the Undead recently. And JLD could barely handle the undead. That is until Constantine had called in a favor from someone he knew. A young man in a black trench coat with a skeleton following him everywhere, that skeleton had a burned headband on it.

The young man is a necromancer, and he is very good at handling the matters of the undead. He just has a bit of disdain for the Justice League and keeps to himself whenever he is around any Justice League member. The only person he seems to trust is Constantine, as he doesn't even interact with the rest of the JLD members. The young man had told them that he's only helping because he owed Constantine quite a few favors, and once Constantine used up all those favors on helping the Justice League, he's done with them, which means he'll leave the Justice League and Justice League Dark to deal with the undead.

Danny's life was as good as it could get. His parents had accepted him as Phantom, Clockwork assured Danny that he doesn't have to be the Ghost King just yet, his grades are steadily rising, and he is scheduling fights with his Ghostly Rogues.

That is until the GIW had shown up again. They were in the process of isolating Amity when the entire city fought back against them.

There were a few casualties, which mostly consisted of people Danny is close to. His parents, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, Valerie, Dash, Mr. Lancer and Star had perished during the struggle, and only those close to Danny hadn't become Ghosts. There wasn't enough to recover from them. Danny only has a few things to remember them by. His mom's Goggles, his dad's fudge recipe, Sam's bracelet, Tucker's PDA, and Valerie's earrings. Jazz was the only one to be buried, as she still had a body that wasn't vaporized.

He tried looking for Dani and Vlad but learned from Technus that they were captured and ended by the GIW. Now, the only person he has to lean on is his "Uncle" Constantine.

Constantine has helped Danny many times during his first years as Phantom. That's why Danny owes Constantine so many favors. He had tried to call help from the Justice League whenever Constantine wasn't around, but he was just brushed off. Hence why he doesn't like helping the Justice League's undead problems. He had also asked Technus to put his information and anything else related to him under lock and key. He doesn't want the Justice League to access and have files of his information. He's got Jazz's skeleton with him because he's taken up the role of Ghost King, and it came with Pariah's ability to raise a skeleton army if need be, but he only uses it on Jazz and other nearby buried bodies to help him deal with undead that aren't Ghosts. He also doesn't want to show his Ghostly half to the Justice League.

He's gotten quite good at hiding his mental presence from the Martians on the Justice League, but some of his emotions and thoughts slipped through. Now, the Justice League is being annoying to him by trying to apologize to him for whatever it is they did to him so they could still rely on him for any undead related issues.

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:57 am]

(cw: f!reader, profanity, mentions of sex and other heated scenarios, spin off of this)

Realistically, the last thing you'd expected from a Halloween make out with your best friend, fratboy!Haechan, was a friends with benefits situation. Especially after you both confessed your feelings for each other. You didn't feel like you should be the one to initiate the conversation about being official either. Like, hello?! You'd been the one to start the actual physical intimacy! You weren't the type of girl to go around and make out with just anyone!

You figured you were at least a little bit, the very slightest bit, also guilty for how long this... arrangement was going on. Could you really help it when he was just so eager to be affectionate? You were weak to his whining and begging. Your excuses for coming over to play video games or study weren't even actually believable anymore. Really, it was more like you were trying to convince yourself.

And that was the reason today. When you'd ducked upstairs without so much as a "hi" sent to the guys that were downstairs. An hour later when you both emerged from his room with swollen lips, wrinkled clothes, and messy hair, it became very obvious that no studying was going on at all.

Not that any of the guys ever believed it anyway. Sure, there was no shame behind closed doors. They guys know there's no shame. At all. You two passionate freaks are never quiet. Never. Even in front of them, Haechan never shies away from incessantly flirting or kissing you. So yeah, those excuses are really just for you.

Now though, you're leaned against the kitchen island, snacking on some chips and sipping on water after a very long and heated session of... whatever it was that happened in Haechan's room. To be honest, the second his lips touched your own, your brain melted and your sole purpose became to follow wherever he led you.

He was glued to your back, body pressed closely against your own as he slumped against you and blinked slowly, opening his mouth for you to feed him with a soft, "ahh" right in your ear when he wanted more. When his mouth wasn't busy with chewing, he was pressing soft, wet kisses on the side of your neck shamelessly.

"What the hell is going on in here?" You hear someone ask.

Slowly, probably because your mind isn't working to its full ability yet, you turn your head to find Johnny standing in the doorway with a look of disgust. You pop another chip between your lips before very casually asking, "we're snacking. Do you want some?"

"Yeah, he's snacking on your neck right now. I'm so confused right now," Johnny sighs with a shake of his head. He walks over to the fridge and gets himself his own water before leaning on the opposite end of the counter with a scrutinous gaze. He shakes a pointed finger between you and Haechan, "so what is this?"

Haechan gently sinks his teeth into the slope of your shoulder to draw a shiver from you before pulling away with an annoyed sigh, "bro, can my smoking hot girlfriend and I get some peace or are you going to stand there and judge like a freak?"

Your brain finally starts to catch up right then and it shows on your face as your brows furrow with confusion, "I'm not your girlfriend."

Haechan freezes, turning your body so you can meet his confused gaze. "Uhhh yes you are, that's why we just had sex in my room," Haechan points out.

"You never asked me to be your girlfriend!" You argue.

"So what happened on Halloween when we made out in my room? I told you I liked you and had a crush on you since I first saw you so what the hell was that to you then?"

"That was you telling me you liked me and me showing you I liked you too, but you have never asked me to be your girlfriend!"

"Was that not implied?! We literally make out, we have sex, we go on dates. I send you pictures of be in the shower-"

Johnny chokes on his water, "oh, gross dude."

Haechan's scream of, "why are you still here?" overlaps your voice as you explain, "he sends me selfies of his shampoo mohawk."

Johnny can only laugh to himself as he leaves the kitchen. Haechan is left to cup your cheeks with a grip that expresses his absolute desperation, "are you doing this with other people? Please say no."

"No!" you exclaim, "are you?"

"I thought you were my girlfriend, I'm not a cheater, so no. I'm not doing what we do with anyone else," Haechan tells you exasperatedly.

"So in your head, we've been dating for like two months now?" You ask, leaning into his hold to rest your head against his chest.

"Well, no, in my head we've been dating since we first met. I've been telling everyone that we've been dating for two months, yeah," you feel him nod.

"Are you going to ask me now then?" you drawl out, looking up at him to meet his eyes.

He groans playfully before leaning down so his forehead is pressed against yours, "will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes!" You exclaim excitedly.

"Even though you basically already were. Geez, woman, you're a spoiled girl."

[yumeka-sxf]

After the exciting start of a new Garden arc last time, today's new chapter did not disappoint either! First thing I noticed upon reading is - Yor's new outfit! (though you're not being very discreet with that "Garden" badge 😅)

Also that little lemur guy in the upper left of the panel is like "Wtf?!" I would think that too if a person suddenly leaped onto the tree branch next to me 🤣 (you can see him scurrying away in the next panel underneath...nice little detail from Endo there.)

Before I get into specifics of this chapter, I wanted to analyze the exchange between Yor and Hemlock in the jeep - namely, the Hemlock/Nightfall parallel, with Hemlock accusing Yor of losing her edge due to "playing house" for too long, which is exactly what Nightfall said to Twilight when she first appeared.

This made me think of an interview with Endo that was shared in the recent iterations of the SxF exhibition that's going on in Japan: when asked which character has changed the most in the series so far, he said Yor while also mentioning that Loid has barely changed. And I can see why that's the case with how Yor responded to Hemlock. Her experience during the cruise arc made her understand her own development - that now more than ever she wants to continue her work because she has more people she desires to protect.

She actually recognizes her own change and embraces it, while Loid...still hasn't gotten there yet. If we compare this exchange between Yor and Hemlock with the one between Loid and Nightfall, Loid clearly doesn't have this same self recognition about how living with the Forgers has changed him. He either genuinely doesn't know or he's in denial, which is why Nightfall is the one who points it out, and even when she tells him, he doesn't have a response.

One could argue that this may have been the case in old chapters, but ever since the mole hunt arc, he has recognized himself how he's changed. I do agree that the mole hunt arc made him realize that he's "softening" in a way, but he sees this as a detriment more than anything else. Unlike Yor who sees how her love for the Forgers has made her stronger, Loid sees it as something that will make him weaker rather than fuel his resolve.

We haven't seen much of Loid's deep inner thoughts since the end of the mole hunt arc, so only time will tell if he'll start to see his own development as something to be accepted rather than pushed away (just a note that I don't have a specific link for this part of the interview, but Fasionnessutsu shared screenshots of it in a thread here).

But anyway, back to other thoughts about this chapter, it was no surprise that even though Yor and McMahon changed into these safari-looking outfits, Hemlock is still wearing his suit. Why am I not surprised someone like him would totally refuse to wear that? 😂

And omg, the fact that Yor is still hung up about the "welcome home" kiss 😂 The fact that she's so earnest about it all this time later means...something, lol.

Also McMahon having a wife...it was kind of vague here but I wonder if she knows about his undercover work? Probably not, but would be interesting to see how much of his marital situation mirrors Yor's.

We apparently got another minor character introduced in this chapter - McMahon's pet falcon (and scouting assistant) Keekee.

In the Japanese version he calls her "Kiki-chan," with "kiki" being the sound she makes. It's nothing big, but I just found it amusing that a stoic, no-nonsense guy like McMahon calls his pet bird "-chan" 😅

The flower that Damian and company found has returned! I mentioned in my last chapter post that it may have some connection to Anya's past - we'll see!

This chapter ends on quite the cliffhanger, with Hemlock attacking Yor because, according to him, she's an impediment to his work and he's allowed to get rid of such impediments. We've already seen several examples of how quick to kill he is. Compared to Yor who tries her best to only kill "bad guys," Hemlock's first notion for anything in his way is to kill, whether it's the deer he's supposed to protect, or a fellow assassin he thinks is dragging him down.

Again, there's parallels that can be drawn between him and Nightfall, but unlike Nightfall whose obsession is fueled by idolizing Twilight, Hemlock's obsession seems to be fueled by animosity for Yor. Where that animosity came from is something we'll hopefully see in upcoming chapters. My theory is that, at some point, Hemlock idolized Yor and is now upset that she seems to have "softened," or he's always been jealous of her and now is even more enraged that she's not taking her job seriously anymore. Whatever the case is, I look forward to seeing how it plays out 👀

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

1.- Part one.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. dry humping. dirty talking. power struggle. both you and kuroo are kinda feral. lemme know if i missed anything ;3 wc. 5.6k an. i blame this on sir mix-a-lot and my instagram fyp. enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

And when I catch a little kitty lookin', oh, so tough Bring hot water 'cause I might get stuck!

Nekoma wasn't huge, but it wasn't some tiny rundown school either. It wasn't a prestigious rich-kid academy like Fukurodani, but it wasn't a dump. You'd call it perfectly average—just balanced enough to create a decent social jungle. The school had its fair share of quiet nerds, top-ranking students, sports freaks, and, of course, the so-called delinquents, as adults liked to whisper whenever they saw kids with piercings, dyed hair, or a cigarette hanging from their lips.

You? You belonged in the latter category.

Which is why, during lunch break, you and your bestfriend Emi had a cigarette and a canned coffee for lunch, tucked into a secluded corner she'd found and claimed after a teacher caught you smoking behind the gym a week before and threw a fit about it, forcing you to find a better place.

You leaned against the sun-warmed brick, one boot crossed over the other as the late morning light sliced through the cracks between the buildings. The sky was too blue for how shitty the day had started.

"Inukai-sensei scolded you again? What a drag." Emi's voice broke through the idle silence, syrupy with a mix of concern and genuine amusement. She had her eyes closed and face looking up into the sky, bathing in the sun like a happy cat.

You nodded in response.

"Another lecture about skipping class and how I could amount to more and to 'please think of my future' and yeah... The usual." You waved a hand in the air as if you could swat away his voice. Just retelling it made your skin itch with anxiety. You patted your blazer for your cigarettes.

Emi let out a thoughtful hum. And opened her eyes to study you with a tilt of her head.

"Well, he's right. You used to get really good grades in first year..."

You shot her a disgusted look, scrunching your nose.

She laughed, brushing you off. "Hey, I'm just saying. Why waste your time with us anyway? Why don't you listen to Inukai-sensei and get your grades back up?"

"I just don't get the point of chasing 'academic success' All that effort just to end up working in some office that'll suck me dry and bury me under unpaid overtime like the rest of this country?" You scoffed, still patting your pockets. "Bullshit... Where are the fucking things?"

Emi rolled her eyes and reached into your bag, retrieving the familiar box with a practiced flick of her wrist. She stole one for herself, already slipping it between her glossy lips.

Emi was loud, pouty, and wore trouble like lip gloss. Shiny, sweet, and impossible to ignore, she floated through the chaos of Nekoma High with a glossy grin, a one too many questionable friends (one of them being you). The perfect image of a bleach-blonde puppy pretending to run with the big dogs.

But underneath the fake lashes and the too-short skirts, she was pure heart: loyal, messy, a little reckless, and your best friend.

She loved too fast, forgave too easily, and stuck to your side like her life depended on it. In a city full of knives disguised as smiles, Emi was an open wound— raw, real, and stupidly brave. A rare trait in Nekoma. You'd landed more than a few punches to protect her, and you were willing to land many more if it meant she was out of harm.

"You sound like such a snob, Y/N."

You snorted as she handed over the box.

"Thanks, babes," you whispered as you took it form her hands, pulling a cigarette out of the box. "Call me whatever you want. As long as I pass and graduate, the rest is useless." You bit down on the filter of your cigarette, patting your pockets again, this time in search of your lighter.

"Sure, sure. You've gotten enough lectures today. I've got my own problems anyway." Emi sighed, reaching into your left pocket and fishing out the lighter. She lit her own cigarette before handing it to you. You gave her a grateful nod. "Yasuo broke up with me. What's up with that?"

You didn't really hear her. Your lips parted just a little, cigarette hanging forgotten between your lips. Your gaze was already drifting toward something—someone—far more interesting.

Kuroo Tetsurou, striding across the schoolyard.

Broad shoulders, long legs, the kind of posture that said I know exactly who I am. His hair was a wild mess—bedhead in the most deliberate, devastating way, like he'd rolled out of someone else's bed and still looked hotter than anyone had a right to. It was all jagged spikes and volume, practically defying gravity, but somehow it worked for him.

Too well.

Next to him walked a shorter guy with a slouched posture and his eyes glued to his phone. But your eyes? Locked on Kuroo like a heat-seeking missile.

He turned his head slightly, talking to his friend with a lazy grin. You caught a glimpse of sharp, narrow eyes and a grin that looked like trouble. The kind of cocky smile that said he knew exactly what you were thinking and was daring you to think it louder.

Your heartbeat stuttered, then picked up like it was trying to break free from your chest.

Fuck, he was hot.

The kind of hot that made you want to do something reckless. Like ruin your academic record. Or make it better. Or crawl into his lap and ask him to tutor you in anything but math.

Eureka.

"Very cute," you muttered under your breath and lit up the smoke, eyes raking over him like he was your next bad decision wrapped in a school uniform.

(He was.)

Emi's voice rose in protest beside you. "Hey! Are you even listening to me?"

You crushed the flavor capsule between your teeth, a little too hard.

"Who's the hottie? Never seen him before..." you murmured, half to yourself, half to Emi—afraid that if you took your eyes from him, he'd vanish.

Emi's annoyed pout was immediately replaced by a curious squint. "Eh?"

"The tall one, next to the blondie," you pressed with a jerk of your chin in his direction, your body practically leaning forward like gravity itself was pulling you toward him. "You know him?"

Of course she did. Emi knew everyone.

She followed your line of sight—and her face lit up with recognition. "Oh! I do, he's the captain of the volleyball team... Tetsurou! Kuroo Tetsurou. He's in Class 5, I think."

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun, huh?" You rolled the name over your tongue like candy, savoring every syllable. "Class 5... so hot and smart. I like."

You needed him.

Biblically.

You didn't notice Emi's wide-eyed stare as she put two and two together, looking between you and Kuroo with a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

"Wait—seriously? Him?" she spluttered.

You shot her a glare, brows raised.

"Don't get me wrong," she rushed, "he is hot. And he does sports. And he's like, top of his class, I'm pretty sure. Pretty good catch... for a good girl."

You scoffed. "Pfff. Who's the snob now?"

"I'm just saying. I don't think he'd mingle with the likes of us. You could have any of the guys if you wanted."

You made a face like you'd tasted something sour. "The guys have no brains. And even less charm. Brain-eating bacteria would starve up there."

She blinked. "Brain-eating... what?"

You shrugged, lighting your cigarette with a smirk. "Besides, it's the chase that's exciting. He looks like a tough cookie. I like that."

Emi snorted. "Girl, if he's a cookie, you're a box of cheap cigs. You two don't mix."

But you weren't listening anymore.

Your sights were set, your interest fully piqued. Your mind was already spinning a thousand possibilities.

And right now? You wanted Kuroo Tetsurou under you.

Or on top of you.

Or really anywhere he wanted to be. But that was beside the point.

You tilted your head, eyes narrowing on him like a predator sizing up prey.

"Magnetism, honey. Polar opposites attract... sometimes."

You took another drag, eyes back on Emi. "But no pain, no gain. Whaddaya think?"

"I think you're insane," Emi said, laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "But I love it when you get that crazy look in your eyes. It means a shitshow's about to happen."

"Thank you, babes."

"You know it. Always got your back."

"If you need someone dead, you know who to call." You winked, and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No new info there." She took her final drag, then ground the cigarette out under her shoe.

She turned back toward Kuroo and his friend. "Okay, but real talk—how're you gonna pull this off? You need a plan."

You mirrored her movement, flicking away your cigarette and pulling a tissue from your blazer pocket to pick it up.

"I'm working on one. Step zero is in motion." You handed her the crumpled tissue. "Pick up your butt or the teachers will know we smoke here now."

"Oh shit, you're right." She bent to grab the butt, mumbling as she moved. "You see? You're smart—Eh? Where are you—"

When she looked up, you were already walking.

Purpose in every step.

The distance between you and him closed with every beat of your heart, Emi's voice fading behind you as she scrambled to catch up. The sun hit your back. The breeze lifted your hair. And in your head?

You were already imagining his hands on your waist, his voice in your ear, the way that smirk might look beneath you.

He looked even taller up close.

Even hotter.

And you needed him like your lungs needed that next hit of nicotine.

The two boys stopped talking, eyes flicking up as you approached.

Kenma scrunched his nose immediately, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke before he could.

You looked up at Kuroo with a tilted head and a smirk.

"What's your name?" you asked, even though you already knew.

Conversation had to start somewhere.

You caught it—a flicker. His pupils dilated. A split-second widening of the eyes before suspicion slammed into place.

Cute.

Kuroo was already analyzing you. Running the odds. He couldn't quite place what your intentions were, but something about the way you looked at him told him it couldn't be anything good. His eyes narrowed, as though trying to peel back the layers of your carefully crafted nonchalance. He didn't trust easily, and people like you... well, you had a way of being unpredictable.

Kuroo knew you, or at least he had heard of you. You were infamous in ways that made most people wary, always getting into fights with girls and boys alike, to the point that more than one person he knew was outright afraid of you. Still, for some reason, the teachers—despite the rebellious streak you wore like armor—seemed to favor you. They kept trying to pull you out of whatever bumpy road you'd decided to drive down, but he couldn't see why.

You were... trouble. Big trouble.

But despite that, there was something undeniably magnetic about you. And damn it, he couldn't help but wonder if it was curiosity or something deeper that had him paying more attention to you than he probably should.

You were also lowkey hot to him—highkey, super pretty. But way too much trouble to pursue.

So, what the hell were you doing right in front of him?

"Kuroo Tetsurou," he answered, tone neutral.

"Nice. I'm—"

"Y/N," he interrupted. "Most people know you."

"Most people know about me." You caught the way Kenma cringed at your words. It made you smile.

There was a moment of silence between you, where you took your sweet time examining his features. His eyes flickered, maybe to keep his cool, maybe to hide the fact that he was intrigued—his eyebrows raised, like saying 'So... what do you want?'

But he was fronting. Freaking out on the inside. Still trying to make sense of you. He wasn't sure if you were about to punch him, kiss him, or just walk away. The worst part? He couldn't figure out which one he hated less.

Your unassuming smile made it hard to read you, but there was something in the way you looked at him he liked. Your eyes looked curious. Like a dog sniffing a possible friend.

Or a prey.

"Would you tutor me?" You saw Kuroo's eyes snap to Emi, whose jaw hit the floor the moment the words left your lips.

He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, tutor me. My homeroom teacher has been giving me shit about grades, and I'd like to graduate."

He shrugged. "Naturally."

Oh, so he was a smartass.

"Would you?"

"Why me?"

"Aren't you in class 5? That means you're smart."

He wasn't budging. His expression remained unconvinced, the flicker of suspicion in his eyes never fully disappeared. And then there was the look on Emi's face, like she was questioning your sanity. Yeah, that confirmed it—he was right.

This was bullshit. There had to be more to it than just grades.

"I'll pay you."

Both Kenma and Emi looked at you with wide, unblinking eyes. Kuroo's lips curled into a sly smirk. 

Now he was really curious. 

He leaned in just a little, intrigued. "How much?"

"1000 yen." Emi's eyes almost popped out of her head. Why were you willing to pay him?

"3000 yen." Kenma's face shot to Kuroo, equally shocked. Why was he raising the price?

Your smile grew. Why was this kinda hot?

"Are you trying to scam me, smart boy?"

"Pfft, that's a miscalculation, considering you'll be taking away my study time to help you out."

You raised an eyebrow.

He looked down at you like he didn't regret this conversation anymore.

And you looked up at him like you were about to set his entire world on fire.

"2500." You offered your final bid. His smirk widened.

"Y/N!" Emi whispered in urgency.

"Done."

Your smile grew. "Okay. Thursdays after class."

"After practice," he corrected, voice smooth.

You shrugged. That worked for you.

"Can I go watch?" you teased, flashing a cheeky grin.

"I'd rather not." His smirk deepened as a pout tugged at your lips. That look suited you.

"Fair. See you Thursday, smart boy~" You waved a hand at both of them as you turned to walk away.

Kuroo watched you go, still wearing that crooked grin—but now, there was something else behind it. Interest. Amusement. A flicker of intrigue he hadn't expected to feel on a Monday. You'd crashed into his day like a storm in lip gloss and leather, and now he couldn't stop wondering what the hell you really wanted from him.

Kenma nudged his elbow. "You're actually gonna tutor her?"

"She's paying," he replied, though his gaze was still on your retreating figure. "And she's... interesting."

"Interesting's one word for it," Kenma muttered, unamused.

Meanwhile, Emi was dragging you down the school grounds back to your little corner like you were a possessed doll, whisper-screaming at you in complete disbelief.

"What the actual hell was that?!"

"What?" you said, feigning innocence as you pulled out another cigarette, mostly for effect. "I got a tutor. Aren't you proud of me?"

"You just offered to pay the guy to spend time with you—and called him smart boy, by the way. That was a little cringe."

You exhaled with a grin, smoke curling past your lips. "And he didn't say no."

Emi looked like she wanted to peel her own face off, but she wore a shocked smile.

"You're insane," she whispered, like she couldn't believe you.

But you? You felt electric. Buzzing with adrenaline and reckless possibility.

Being honest, even you couldn't explain what had you this hooked in the first place. It wasn't like you to flirt, let alone sleep around—especially not with some guy you'd just met. You weren't even that experienced, really. Just good at faking it when you had to. You knew how to make guys back off, not draw them in. And you liked it that way—especially with a friend as stupidly pretty as Emi. 

Someone had to be the one with teeth.

But the second you laid eyes on Kuroo, something unfamiliar ignited in your chest. Hot. Sharp. Wild. It didn't feel like danger, not exactly—but it burned just the same. And without thinking twice, without looking back, you lunged toward it like instinct. Like hunger.

You weren't chasing chaos for the thrill this time.

You were chasing him.

And there wasn't a single part of you planning to stop.

When Thursday rolled around—and after confirming to Emi three separate times that yes, you were going to pay him, and yes, you were trying to fuck him—you actually paid attention in class. Took notes, too, so you didn't show up to tutoring empty-handed. Half-assed, sure, but it was something. You even waited for him outside school like you said you would.

The spring wind clawed at your jacket as you leaned against the weather-worn "Nekoma Metropolitan High School" sign, flicking ash from your cigarette like you weren't freezing your ass off. Rust crept along the metal edges, and the chain-link fence behind you rattled every time the breeze picked up. You looked every bit the part of a stray dog waiting to be fed—eyes sharp, restless, scanning for the only person you'd follow home.

You caught sight of him leaving the gym, towel slung around his neck, hair damp and a little more tousled than usual from practice. Of course he wasn't alone—Kenma trailed behind, glued to his phone, already scowling once he noticed you.

Kuroo slowed when he saw you, surprise flickering across his face. He clearly hadn't expected you to follow through on your offer, and the corner of his mouth twitched like he couldn't decide whether to be impressed or concerned. But once it was clear you were serious—and once you confirmed the study session was happening at your place—he tossed a quick goodbye over his shoulder and followed you through the alley-strewn veins of Tokyo.

Your apartment complex looked like it had seen better decades. Rusty stairwells, cracked concrete, the faint smell of piss, mildew, and something metallic hanging in the air like a permanent tenant. Neon light from a busted sign across the street flickered through your broken blinds. The building groaned when the wind pushed through its joints, and the elevator had been broken since forever. Kuroo took it all in with that quiet, unreadable look you'd noticed he got sometimes—eyes narrowed, thoughtful.

He didn't say anything. That was somehow worse.

Inside, the place wasn't much better. Cigarette smoke clung to the yellowing walls. A stained countertop, three empty ramen cups, a crumpled paper bag, and a scrawled note waited:

For your tutoring and anything else. I have a fight today. Grandma's at the pachinko. Behave.

It was scrawled in your dad's sloppy, half-illegible handwriting. Kuroo read it, then blinked slowly like he wasn't sure if he was impressed or deeply concerned.

You grabbed the bag, tossing the note into the dented trash bin with a smirk.

"A fight." he muttered, still processing as he followed you down the hall. His gaze drifted around your room like it was offering up pieces of you without permission—band posters, a half-broken fan, a low table in front of a dusty floor TV.

"My dad's a boxer," you explained, toeing off your slippers and throwing your bag onto the bed.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. "And your grandma's a—"

"Pachinko enthusiast," you finished, grin crooked. "So we've got the place to ourselves until at least nine."

You thought he'd get the hint. His Adam's apple bobbed—nervous? Excited? You couldn't tell. But when he sat down cross-legged at your low table and pulled out his books like he was actually here to tutor you, you almost groaned aloud.

"So," he said, pulling a blue folder from his bag, "let's see what you're failing."

"You actually got my report card? That's commitment." you said, raising a brow.

He ignored your teasing as he flipped through the papers. "You're not failing anything, surprisingly. But your chem grades are garbage."

You flopped dramatically onto your bed. "I'm struggling."

"I see that," he muttered, pulling out a notebook. "Come on."

You sat up with a groan and dragged yourself to the table, grabbing a pen. He didn't look at you when you settled beside him, but you caught the slight shift in his posture when your knee bumped his. He cleared his throat and started explaining covalent bonds.

You half-listened. You watched his mouth move instead. His voice was smooth, confident. He was focused, leaning over your textbook, one hand pointing at a diagram, the other scribbling notes with clean, sharp handwriting. He smelled like cheap body spray, shampoo and faint sweat from practice.

Your hand slipped onto his thigh.

"Tetsurou-kun," you said, all syrup and heat, "you can't seriously think you're here to actually study, right?"

He froze. Swallowed. Then, to your shock, lifted his gaze with forced calm. "What am I?" he asked. "Some common whore you're gonna pay to fuck?"

The words cut sharper than you expected. Your smile faltered. You hadn't meant it like that. You weren't sure what you'd meant, actually. Suddently this whole thing felt a little shittier.

Your fingers twitched where they rested against his thigh, but you didn't pull them back.

"N-no," you muttered. "I just—" You exhaled, frustrated. "I didn't think this far ahead, okay?"

He watched you. Read through you. His expression softened a little, the edge in his voice gone. But he still didn't touch you.

You were about to say something else—maybe change the subject, maybe apologize—when he talked again, teasing.

"You actually want to learn this or not?"

You blinked, thrown off. "Huh?"

He held up the notebook. "Chemistry."

You stared at him. Then, grudgingly, nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

You leaned in, this time actually paying attention. Took notes. Bit your lip when he smirked at your compliments and felt your stomach tighten every time he laughed when you cursed at the confusing parts.

"Not gonna lie, you make this sound way easier than the teacher. What the fuck," you grumbled.

He seemed to like the praise, smiling beside you while he continued to explain. His voice settled into your ears like warm honey. When you answered his questions right, he smirked. When you got one wrong, he nudged you with his knee and explained it again, slower this time. You hated that he was good at this. That he made you want to keep going just to see the way his eyes lit up when you understood something.

Eventually, the lesson became background noise. Your focus shifted to the way his knee brushed yours, to the way he stole glances at your thighs like he didn't want to be caught but also didn't care enough to stop. To the way his fingers moved—long, elegant, tapping the page as he talked, not realising he was doing it. His mouth, his voice, his brain—God, this was so much worse than you'd planned. He was actually hot and smart.

You were openly staring at his lips when he finally noticed.

"What?" he asked, brow arching.

"Nothing," you said, leaning back with a slow smirk. "Just wondering how you make covalent bonds sound hot."

That got a laugh, rough and short. But his ears were a little pink.

"Thought you liked ionic bonds more," he teased with a raised brow.

"Don't get me wrong, ionic bonds are cool. Covalent bonds are... hot."

"That's a new one," he said, voice low. "Gonna start rating chemistry terms by sex appeal now? Want me to whisper 'intermolecular forces' next?"

You snorted. "Don't tempt me. I might actually learn something."

"Blasphemy," he said, mock-scandalized. "You learning? In my presence? Next thing I know you'll be asking about valence electrons like you mean it."

You sat up, leaned in, and closed the book between you with a soft thud.

"Okay, I was good. I listened. Took notes. Didn't even flirt for twenty straight minutes." You raised a brow. "Now, when are you gonna stop pretending this is actually about chemistry?"

That wiped the grin off his face—but not entirely. It curved at the corners, wry and knowing. His gaze didn't leave yours. You saw the fraying edges of restraint, the tension vibrating between you.

"Isn't it?" he asked, the words almost gentle.

But his pupils blew wide when they dropped to your lips. You caught it. And still, you didn't move. You weren't about to force it. A single "no" or even a flicker of hesitation from him and you were ready to throw in the towel, swallow your embarrassment for the rest of the session—maybe learn some more chemistry and then avoid him for the rest of your last school year. Hopefully, the rest of your life.

You let the silence hang a beat longer.

"Look..." you exhaled. "I'm not really good at this. I just pretend I am."

That caught him off guard.

He could tell—you were slick, but he was smart. Sharp enough to see through you and that overconfident persona you put on, but he hadn't expected you to admit it. Not like this. Not in your room, with his textbook sitting closed between your thighs. At least, he knew he wouldn't have.

You saw the shift immediately—his breath catching, his posture tightening ever so slightly.

"Huh," he said after a second. "Guess I'm not the only one bluffing their way through this study session."

"So you're saying you don't get turned on by covalent bonds?"

That earned a soft huff. He leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice low.

"Depends. Are you offering to share some electrons, or...?"

You laughed. His hand moved slowly, fingers brushing your hair behind your ear. And when he looked at you this time, it wasn't with that usual playful glint.

It was something raw. Like honesty.

"I like you," you admitted, tilting your head slightly. "But I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Good," he murmured. "Then we're even."

Then, slowly—finally—he leaned in to meet your lips.

Soft at first. Testing. But when you answered back—with a hunger he didn't expect—the leash snapped. His hand slid behind your neck, anchoring you against him as his mouth claimed yours. His tongue licked into your mouth with filthy, unhurried precision, dragging a whimper from your throat.

He kissed like he meant it. No fumbling. No hesitation.

You gasped when he tugged your hair just enough to tilt your head back, and the gasp melted into a moan when his other hand traced up your spine, pulling you closer—guiding you over to sit on his left thigh. Your fingers twisted into his shirt, clutching him like he was the only thing holding you up.

"You're all talk," he muttered against your lips, grinning when you shivered after a well-placed flex of his thigh. "But so am I."

You squeezed your eyes shut—dazed, aching, and a little embarrassed.

"...Shut up," you breathed, your usual sass caught somewhere between your throat and the pounding in your chest.

His smile turned downright wicked. His mouth dragged along your jaw, down your neck. You squirmed, knees bracketing his thigh as his hands slipped under your shirt, palms hot and rough against the bare skin of your back and waist.

"You don't have to act tough," he whispered, voice rough and reverent. "I think I like you more like this. Messy."

His mouth dipped to your collarbone, kissing and biting the sensitive skin. Every nerve in your body lit up.

Your head tilted back to give him more space, heart thudding so hard you thought it might crack your ribs. Your tough-girl act had fully melted now, replaced with the kind of hunger you'd been feeling since the first time you saw him—the kind of hunger you didn't know how to fake.

"God," you gasped. "You're not supposed to be good at this..."

He chuckled low in his throat, kissing a line down your chest. "Top of my class, remember?"

"Smart boy..." you growled—but it came out more like a broken, desperate plea. "If you don't—"

He cut you off with another kiss, deeper, devastating. His hands dragged up your stomach, slow and sure, thumbs brushing the underside of your bra with maddening patience.

You tried to shove him gently back, straddling his lap like you could wrestle some control back—but the second his dark, hungry gaze locked onto yours, you felt your composure crack.

"You sure you're inexperienced?" you asked, trying to tease—but your voice betrayed you, too breathless to land the hit.

He didn't even dignify it with a real answer. Just kissed you again, harder—tongue sweeping into your mouth like he fucking owned it. His hands clutched your hips like he was trying to brand himself into your bones, and after a small, involuntary moan slipped from your throat, you pulled back with a narrowed look, silently demanding a response.

He just shrugged. That maddening, smug little shrug. Like he hadn't just made your whole body tremble.

"I'm a fast learner," he said, trailing his mouth down your throat, voice dropping lower.

A shiver went up your spine as he bit down at your pulse point, and you whimpered, threading your fingers into his messy hair and tugging.

Still, you didn't stop him.

Didn't want to.

This was what you wanted, wasn't it? To see if all that cocky arrogance and big-dick energy were just a front.

And judging by the thick length of him, already hard beneath you and pressing snug under your embarrassingly wet core... You might've bitten off more than you could chew.

Kuroo unbuttoned your shirt slowly, peeled it off your shoulders, and tossed it aside—then paused for just a second.

His gaze was scorching.

Starving. Almost reverent.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed. "What a pain in the ass."

"Huh? Which one is it?" you whispered, smirking—until his mouth latched onto the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to make you tense a little. It burned in the best way—lingering and possessive.

He unclasped your bra like he'd done it a thousand times, and the second you were bare in front of him, his hands were everywhere—palming your tits, dragging his thumbs over your nipples until they were tight and sensitive. Squeezing. Claiming.

Then his mouth followed.

Hot. Wet. Perfect.

His tongue circled a nipple, then flicked it—slow at first, then rougher—and you arched with a soft, broken moan.

"Oh my god," you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders as your hips rolled. "You're dangerous."

He laughed against your skin, biting just enough to make you jolt. "Top of my class," he muttered again—infuriating, smug, hot as hell.

You rocked down harder, grinding against the hard bulge in his pants, and his breath stuttered. He gripped your hips tighter—bruising—guiding your movement with a low, wrecked groan.

"Fuuuck..." he breathed. "Do that again."

You did—and something snapped.

His hands shot down to unzip your skirt, and you let him, lifting your hips so he could drag it off and toss it somewhere on your floor, leaving you in nothing but lace panties. Bare thighs. Wet as hell.

He didn't even strip off his shirt, still fully clothed—his mouth just went right back to you, trailing down your chest with a reverent slowness that made your pulse jackhammer. You felt his lips, his tongue, worshipping every inch like it meant something, while little groans and moans escaped his lips as you rode him over his pants.

His lips were swollen, your skin flushed, legs wrapped around him as he rolled his hips into yours, pressing you harder against his thick cock. His hands moved over your body like he owned it—confident, thorough, maddeningly slow.

And every time you thought you had control, he took it back.

Faster.

Rougher.

More deliberate.

His grip bruised. His tongue fucked into your mouth like he was chasing a high. Your panties were soaked, clinging to your folds, and your clit throbbed with every subtle shift of your hips against him. You didn't even care how obvious it was.

You wanted him. All of him.

Every time you rocked down onto the thick bulge in his pants, you could feel the friction spark—sharp, maddening, electric. The tension inside you built in waves, tightening with each grind, pressure curling low in your belly, spiraling toward something reckless.

You were right on the edge, strung so tight you felt like you'd snap if he so much as exhaled too close.

And the worst part? He was trying to keep quiet. You could feel him trying—holding back. Swallowing grunts. Burying moans against your skin.

But they kept slipping out.

Low, desperate sounds tearing from his throat with each drag of your body against his cock. His breath caught every time you moved—hitching, stuttering, wrecked. You could feel it vibrate in his chest, in his mouth, in the fists he clenched on your hips like he was trying not to beg.

Oh you could only imagine he was a loud fucker.

Those sounds were unraveling you faster than anything else.

And still you kept grinding. Kept chasing the friction.

You were dizzy with it. Hot and wet and aching. So close you could barely breathe.

"Don't stop," you whispered—your voice low, needy. "Just... don't stop."

He froze.

Just for a beat. Just long enough to make your heart lurch.

Then he leaned in, lips ghosting over your throat, collarbone, jawline.

"Oh, I'm not stopping right now," he said, voice rough like a sin. "I'm just choosing when."

You scoffed, tried to grind again—but his grip locked you down, holding you in place like you weighed nothing.

"God, you're..." He cut himself off with a ragged breath as his fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties—just barely. Teasing. "Didn't know you were this fucking greedy."

"I'm not," you argued. "But you are. You're so—fuck—you're cocky."

He laughed—quiet and mean—and you felt it echo through his mouth as it dragged over your bare tits again, tongue leaving wet, hot trails.

"If I keep going..." he murmured, lips ghosting over one aching nipple, "...I'm not going to stop."

You looked down at him, lips parted, chest heaving. "That's not a problem."

But he just stared at you—hungry, calculating. Controlled to a fucking fault.

"You're paying me to tutor you," he said.

Calm. Dangerous. Like a warning—or like a reminder. To you. To himself. Maybe both.

"And you think this is a game."

Your stomach flipped. You didn't know if it was the way he said it—so calm and knowing—or the fact that he was absolutely right.

And then he leaned close, mouth brushing your ear, breath hot and voice fucking lethal.

"I'm not going to fuck you just because you're good at pretending you want me."

Your whole body locked.

Then his hand slid up between your legs, pressing against your clit—hard enough to make your spine curve, but still not enough to finish you.

"I'm going to make you mean it."

You moaned, hips bucking—but before you could chase it, he was already pulling away. Already lifting you off him.

Gone.

Just like that, the warmth of him was gone.

He stood, chest rising and falling, one hand dragging through his hair like he needed air. The other palmed his cock through his pants—thick, straining—not even trying to hide it.

"I'll see you next Thursday," he said, voice maddeningly even. "For chemistry."

Then he smirked.

And walked out.

Left you half-naked, flushed and aching, sitting on the floor of your room.

Ruined.

Fucking prick.

tags. taglist open! let me know in the comments <3

Next chapter↪ (coming soon<3)

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

"oh wow, you're even pudgier than i thought !"

shouto looks up from the photo album to look up at you, his expression barely betrays how confused he is. he raises a brow.

"...is that a good thing ?"

"mhm." that's all you say. shouto decides not to ask for more. you flip another page, squealing in surprise when you see another baby picture of your boyfriend.

"holy shit, just look at those cheeks--"

"it's not that bad." he grumbles slightly, feeling a bit insulted (and secretly a little embarrassed.)

"your head is massive !" you laugh, your boyfriend pouts slightly at you sitting next to him on the floor of his living room. usually, he's not out here much but he likes being here with you.

today though, not as much. he curses touya for ever telling you the location of this cursed item. then again, he should've known.

"if you're gonna keep making fun of me i'd rather we put this away."

"no, no !" you yelp, squeezing the book close to your chest when he reaches for it "i'm not making fun of you, honest ! you're just so cute it makes me wanna squeeze you silly." you squish his cheeks and he visibly relaxes, like a cat.

"you already do that, angel." shouto sighs.

"baby you, i mean. i wish i could've met you when we were younger, we would've been the best of friends."

shouto's eyes soften then, leaning into your touch "i'm sure we would've been, love. but i'm glad i'm not just friends with you now, at least."

"always so smooth.." you pick the album back up, shuffling through some more pages and laying down on your back with a groan. shouto lays down on his back next you, always wanting to be closer now that you'd let go of his face. there's some pictures of him and his siblings as babies that make you laugh, like the one of his oldest brother sitting on top of him while he's red faced and in tears, touya holding a casual peace sign at the camera. (shouto scoffs under his breath when he sees it, like he remembers some kind of incident)

you land on a picture that makes you pause. it's a picture of him on his mom's lap, he's showing her a toy car and looks like he's describing it in great detail. his mom looks down at him so softly, with a sweet smile on her face while she listens to what you imagine is a very riveting monologue.

it makes you pause, and it makes your heart squeeze. shouto is quiet next to you.

"hey, it's your mom."

your boyfriend hums in response "she's been asking after you."

you smile, "tell her i miss her next time you visit, okay ?" and he hums again. you're really inspecting the picture and you realise--

"y'know, you like a lot like your mom."

shouto's breath gets caught in his throat. he's silent and he wants to speak but his throat feels clogged, he forces his voice to come out anyway, it comes out quiet, surprised, and almost..meek.

"...really ?"

you don't notice his change of tone, happily continuing "yeah, yeah! especially..." you trail off, flipping back a few pictures to another one with both his parents and him tucked behind his mother's leg as he takes his first day of grade school picture in his cute little uniform.

"yeah, here! especially in this one !" you point. shouto leans in some more, and he searches around for any resemblance because frankly, he doesn't think he sees it much. other than the color of his eye and strands of his hair he can't seem to find anything.

being your own person is nice, but you'll always have something that likens you to the people that brought you in the world. and shouto had been told so often by people who didnt know any better (or maybe some did) that he resembled his dad; his quirk, his face, his gaze; it always went back to him. him, him, always him. at some point in his life it made him genuinely sick, but he's learned to live with it now.

but you, you see his mom. in his cheekbones, in the shape of his eyes and in the way that he smiles "pretty like his mommy", apparently. even tracing his features and nodding, so sure of yourself, calling him a total "mama's boy".

and shouto can't help but be honest, "i don't really see it..." he trails of shyly. his heart burns.

but you're going through hell and high water to convince him otherwise. like he's crazy for not seeing it even though all he's been seeing was the aftermath of the man who had ruined his family. you point out how rei's little dimple matches his and how his voice is soft and airy like hers. they both have the same preferences and specific mannerism that he himself hadn't even noticed. and he can't help but smile.

( taglist ! )

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin @bakugouswaif @themultifandomgirl @icey-wonders

[eddiegettingshot]

another thing is that like, okay, obviously opening with. buck did not do anything “wrong” there’s really no such thing in this situation. buck was doing his best. but eddie needed buck to ask what it was like not only because he’s always waiting for permission to let it all out, but because he clearly felt like he COULDN’T ask buck, nobody felt like they could! he was worried about buck’s level of worry—this is his partner, who has been spiraling since the funeral, scrambling because of all these assumptions he’s making about what bobby asked him to do and what everyone else would want from him, administering clinical assessments as a numerical gauge for how everyone’s feeling, which is really actually a numerical gauge of how well HE is carrying out bobby’s wishes, because he needs to do that for his own sake, his own grief. on top of this buck feels like he failed bobby by not being able to save him and they all know it, eddie especially knows it because buck once felt the same way about him.

at what point, witnessing this, does eddie feel like he can say Um hey by the way I felt all alone and was losing it alone because of this choice I made that you didn’t want me to make in the first place, a choice that hurt me in a way we still haven’t confronted, plus the guilt of not being there with you guys, again because of this choice I made that’s clearly still an open wound for both of us, is eating me alive, and by the way I’m going to make that choice again (even though I don’t want to and can’t admit it yet) and I’m just hoping you won’t blow up at me for it this time, which you might, because Bobby just died, so I couldn’t blame you anyway, but I can’t talk to you either, about any of this, because I’m a 12.

of course whether or not this perception was “correct” isn’t the point at all, it just Was, because of how eddie is and how he knows buck to be and because of their shared history and because the situation sucks badly. that it just Was and that it caused this married couple dispute makes it so magical

[dissociativewriter]

Unnatural Affinity- Part 2

Isekai!Reader x Love and Deepspace

wc: 2.8k

cw: angst but not too heavy this time, allusions to self harm, questioning of worth i guess?, reader wonders if she’s supposed to be there and what’s going on, kinda awkward interactions tbh, lots of confusion; not proofread

Synopsis: You soon find yourself filling in the role of Em’s friend and roommate, and try to fit into your new life and new (?) job at the Hunter’s Association. At lunch break, you and Em eat lunch with Xavier only to find some… odd behavior from him.

author’s note: I really need to be updating my Once Upon Another Time PoTo x LaDS series but this has taken all my inspiration :( i feel like this is kinda weak but it has some good lines. i don’t know how to write xavier so ill try to figure that out before i write more of him

tag list: @animegamerfox @ixloom819 @magennta09 @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007

Series Masterlist

Em certainly knew how to hold a conversation, you quickly realized.

She was the exact opposite of you. Where you were quiet and reserved, she was loud and outgoing. She could talk to anyone, and it seemed as though she held all the energy in any room she entered.

That wasn’t a bad thing, of course. You almost envied her for it, the way she could so easily navigate social situations. She was charming and witty where you were shy and sarcastic. It was far from a bad thing, it was just something you weren’t used to.

And why would you be?

This is the life of the Main Character.

“So, anyways, I was trying to get him to switch with me so I could have a turn, but he insisted that he keep playing!” Em was complaining about one of the men wrapped around her finger, and you had honestly lost track of which one she was talking about now. For having five objectively attractive men practically at her feet, she certainly didn’t appreciate them all that much. “He said he’d use his Evol and it’d be fine, but then he still missed!” Her expression was exaggerated, her pitch rising as she kept talking. A small pout formed on her lips. “All that to say, we didn’t get a plushie,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry, who was this again?” You decided to just bite the bullet. You’d learned that Em was aware she could talk fast sometimes and skip out on details, so asking for clarification wasn’t that anxiety-inducing anymore.

“My friend Xavier. He’s a hunter, you might have seen him? Silver-white hair, big, blue eyes, tall, really quiet?” Em cocked her head.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve… seen him around.” You nodded. You couldn’t exactly explain he was a Love Interest in the only game you played daily.

“Yeah, it’s hard not to notice him. I think most people in the Association have at least heard his name, even if they haven’t seen him.” Em suddenly stopped, grabbing your arm and pointing to a small shop with her other hand. “That shop looks so cute! We have to go there.”

You didn’t argue, simply following her lead like a lamb as she guided you to the store. Another thing you’d realized: Em was used to getting what she wanted. But she was never rude or entitled about it. No, that’d be too negative for a Main Character. She could be a bit bratty at times, however, a trait often showed in memories with Sylus or Caleb. Clearly, though, this wasn’t something she only did with them. You’d fallen victim to her pouts, puppy-dog eyes, and guilt-tripping in the mere three hours you’d been together.

Despite all this, your differences, your slight annoyances, your envy, you’d managed to become somewhat comfortable around Em. Maybe it was her Evol helping her resonate with everyone, but it’s like she just knew how to make people like her and be comfortable. You weren’t sure how you felt about it. She couldn’t read you and your emotions, something you were thankful for, but she was clawing at the walls you’d put up defiantly, like the kitten Sylus so often compared her to.

After a few stops at a couple more shops, you two finally headed back to your apartment. You were filled with some kind of rotten eagerness. A person’s home can so easily show their secrets: their struggles, interests, and happiness. You wanted to see how you lived in this life. You wanted to see if it really was better than what you’d had before.

You wanted to see if what you were losing when you entered this world was really worth missing.

The apartment was… nice. Like the rest of Linkon, it was sleek and innovative. You recognized a lot of it from the screenshots in the back of the main storyline or memories, but there was something unnerving about the whole place. It reminded you of Em’s eyes. Pretty at the first glance but lacking substance when you look further.

There were a few things here and there that weren’t in the original art of her apartment. A stack of books here, an extra pair of shoes there; Your mark was evident. You weren’t just shoved to the side to make room for the main character. You were allowed to self-express in your own (new?) home.

“Why do you look so shocked? I mean, I know I straightened up, but it wasn’t that messy before,” Em laughed.

“Nothing… just thinking.” You shook your head. “It’s not important.” Em cocked her head but didn’t say anything more.

You hovered in the entryway for a moment after kicking your shoes off, taking it all in. Em stayed in the living room, scrolling her phone as she laid sprawled on the couch. Then, as if your body knew what your mind did not, you entered what you could only assume was your room, dropping your tote bag in the chair in the corner and shrugging off your jacket. You performed what felt like second-nature, like your body remembered this life where your mind didn’t. It seemed like force of habit, so you could only wonder if adapting to this new world would really be all that difficult.

“I’m going to sleep!” Em yelled outside your door. “You should soon. We’ve got to get back the Association tomorrow and I just know Jenna’s going to overload everyone with work after that whole issue in Skyhaven.”

Habit was a funny thing.

It was as if some things didn’t need a second thought, just something you did because your body knew to.

But how did your body know your exact routine in this life? There was nothing inexperienced about any of it. You didn’t bump into any furniture, didn’t look for where your shirts were kept for twenty minutes, didn’t question anything.

What was going on here?

You grabbed a bag you didn’t even know existed before and a travel mug from the counter before leaving with Em. This was routine, you realized, but whose?

As you were leaving the apartment building, Em turned around, zeroing in on a specific window. You curiously followed her gaze, only to find the curtains drawn.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Em’s gaze suddenly snapped back to your own, as if she forgot you were there next to her. “Oh! I was just going to see if Xavier was leaving too and let him walk with us.” She laughed. “Of course, knowing him, he’s probably still asleep!”

I didn’t think Xavier usually went to the Association, you thought. Didn’t he just take missions without showing up?

What else is different?

You shrugged. “We can wait for him, if you want,” you offered. You didn’t know if you really should be interacting with any of the Love Interests, but if you both worked at the Hunter’s Association, you couldn’t really avoid Xavier.

You couldn’t change things that much anyway, right?

“No, it’s fine.” Em shook her head. “Let’s just go. I have a meeting with Jenna first thing and I do not need to be late again,” she groaned.

With bright lights and wide windows, the Hunter’s Association certainly left no stone unturned. There were no shadows to hide in, no darkened corners to find refuge, not even a closet to hide the skeletons you knew the Association had.

You subconsciously adjusted the tote bag on your shoulder, feeling the weight of your laptop and the folders containing God(Astra?)-knows-what. You’d tossed your copy of Frankenstein in before you left, too. You didn’t know why. It wasn’t even your favorite book, but it was something real. The annotations were fragments of another life. A life where you hadn’t been happy, so why did you find yourself missing it so much?

Your hands itched at your thighs again, feeling the healing cuts rub against the fabric of your pants.

“Well, I’m gonna go.” Em’s voice, bright like the Association, broke you from your thoughts. “Say hi to Nero for me!” You nodded and returned her wave as she walked away.

Wait.

Nero?

What did he do…? You wish you had the guide from the game giving you descriptions on everyone and everywhere. What did they say about him? He liked Wanderers… and didn’t he have social anxiety?

Your feet took your where your mind couldn’t and you saw Nero sitting at a slightly cluttered desk with an empty one directly across from him.

His little portrait in-game did not do him justice. He was honestly cute, especially with his slightly oversized glasses. He was shy, sure, giving you a weak wave of acknowledgement, but he was by no means lacking confidence. He dodged eye contact, but his shoulders were back and his posture straight. You could tell he was confident in himself, just not in others when it came to socializing.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, almost unsure. “I left a report on your desk for you to read over… just, whenever you have time!” he quickly clarified, as if he didn’t want to put unnecessary pressure on you.

“Alright, Nero,” you smiled, your grin only growing as he glanced away.

You quickly fell into a rhythm after getting settled at your desk. Nero was in data analysis, you finally remembered, which meant you were, too. At least, in the same department. You had a different job from Nero, compiling and proofreading all of the information from the reports. It could be confusing here and there, especially trying to decode any shorthand used or even just some messy scrawl, but it was overall easy work.

Now you understand why Em had mentioned you helping her by giving data. You had access to all the data that went through the Association. Even what they hid from the Hunters.

In a world where knowledge was the only thing you had, this realization held unimaginable power.

Between what you knew about a few characters from the game and what you could learn from all these reports, it didn’t seem like you’d be scrambling for some footing.

You and Nero fell into a rhythm, too. He would complete his reports, pass them over to your desk, where you would edit and transfer into the database. Not many words were exchanged, maybe a quick “here” or “thanks” muttered occasionally. With such a loud life next to Em, it was nice to find these quiet moments of reprieve with him.

A few hours passed quickly before the clock hit 1:30. You straightened up your pile of reports before rising from your chair. “Nero? Aren’t you going to lunch?” you asked.

He shook his head. “I’ll just stay here for my break. You have a fun time, though.” He gave a weak smile.

“Alright, if you insist…”

Em met you at the entrance to the Association, a tall blond in tow. “Hey!” she exclaimed as soon as she saw you. “I wanted to introduce you to Xavier since you said you’d never met, so I thought, why don’t we all get lunch so you two can properly meet!” She grinned widely, quickly glancing between both of you.

You gave a polite nod and introduction to Xavier, not expecting much from him. He never paid much attention to anyone beyond Em, you knew, and you didn’t want to incite any unnecessary jealousy if he thought you two were too close. You were roommates, after all, and you’d seen Xavier get jealous over only a neighbor.

You didn’t think his jealousy would stop at only men, either.

To your surprise, however, he grabbed your hand, giving you a chaste kiss on the top of it and a small smile. “Nice to meet you,” he murmured.

Okay, what?

You hadn’t expected him to be rude; he would never be rude to someone important to Em. But this was a bit kinder than you’d expected. Just a bit.

You, Xavier, and Em left the Association, walking down the street after Em proposed some hotpot. She was slightly ahead of you and Xavier, extremely enthusiastic compared to your relaxed pace. You thought it odd that Xavier had stayed back with you instead of hovering next to Em, but what was odder was the hand ghosting at the small of your back.

This was a comfortable motion, maybe not practiced, but definitely not awkward. You felt his eyes on you as you kept looking forward, his chin tilted up as he looked at you through his bottom lashes. He was searching for something. You could feel it, though his face betrayed nothing.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was just as confused as you were with the amount of attention he was giving you compared to Em.

Hotpot was nice, if a little chaotic. Em and Xavier sat together in a booth, with you across from them in a chair. You were directly across from Xavier, and you noticed him watching you closely as the meats and vegetables cooked. There were even a few times when Em had to frantically tap him to get his attention and say it was done.

Conversation ended up flowing easily between the three of you, once you got settled. You and Xavier were putting in as much as Em, something extremely unusual for the both of you. Right now, Em was in the middle of telling of an interaction with a civilian during a mission, which was apparently so funny that she couldn’t breathe for a few minutes before beginning.

“He kept insisting that he be let past, like he knew what was going on!” She howled with laughter. “I said, sir, you don’t wanna be involved in that and he just held his hand up and said how can you know that, I’ll do as I please! Obviously, he took two steps, realized what was happening, and got out of there as fast as possible. Honestly, I don’t know what people are thinking sometimes.” Em wiped the stray tears from her eyes.

“Wait,” you chuckled. “So he was just like: ‘oh i can do this, i’m better than a trained hunter, step aside little girl’?” You raised your hand, the back of it facing you, just as Em had done to get your point across. Em didn’t say anything, merely laughing as she nodded. You laughed, too, keeping your hand raised although it faltered.

Xavier, who had completely dissociated for the entire story, snapped back into focus. He zeroed in on your outstretched hand, immediately drawing a conclusion you weren’t sure how he reached.

“Mind if you borrow my hand?” he asked, his brows slightly furrowed. He leaned forward a little, raising his own hand. “…Like this?” He tapped his hand against yours in a weak high-five.

Watching your hand falter, out of sheer confusion and shock for how this was playing out, a slight frown grew on his face. “It seems you had something else in mind.” He shook his head, his lips now curling up at the ends. He quickly entwined his fingers with your own, holding your hand tightly. “Can I borrow your hand, then?”

Your mouth was slightly agape. He was supposed to be acting all cute like this with Em, not with you!

“Is this what you call borrowing?” Xavier chuckled as he released your hand.

You stared at him, barely noticing Em glancing between you both. A frown was playing on her lips, and she shifted closer to Xavier. You watched him closely as he absentmindedly chewed his food. You were trying to figure out why he did that.

Why did it feel so familiar?

What was it so comfortable?

You figured it out later.

Finally, after a few more hours the Association and a quick dinner back at the apartment where Em was uncharacteristically quiet, you figured it out.

It was a Relax Time in the game. One of those little interactions you unlocked as Affinity increased. It was identical down to the dialogue. Except, those were always little couple-y moments shared between the MC and her Love Interest in Destiny Cafe, always adorable, always invoking your somber envy.

So why was Xavier doing it with you?

You didn’t think Em liked it much either. She wasn’t bitter about it, you could tell, just… confused. She isn’t officially dating any of the Love Interests as of now considering just the Main Story has happened, but it’s still odd for any of them to be doing something remotely romantic with anyone, man or woman.

You just hoped you wouldn’t run into any of the other men. Who knows what that could lead to?

You didn’t know what exactly was going on, or how you could deal with it, but you knew one thing: Something was wrong.

Maybe it’s your fault. Maybe you’re not supposed to be here. Maybe your very presence is throwing everything off-kilter.

In a game so based around Fate, unexpected events don’t seem very welcome.

And what were you, if not unexpected?

comments and reblogs appreciated! <3

masterlist

[exitwound]

Like okay sorry specifically one of the things I was trying to epxress with this post and this is like just one singular thing the sentiment of the post defineitly applies more broadly but one of the things is like the prevalence and meaning of the attitude of people who are being exploited but do not recognize that, who either refuse to recognize or proclaim it as the preferred situation-- they do so because it is a survival mechanism, but the fact remains that it is also going to kill them faster and hurt them more they are killing themselves you know and killing others. Killing is the strongest limit of the effects often it doesnt come to that but like. I dont know I think that there are huge downstream impacts to the ways in which any iindividual processes and responds to their various experiences of suffering and the more often that people are reading their pain according to ways that benefit othres and hurt them more, like, the more tangled the k not gets.... I dont mean to maske generic statements i think the advantage of the jenny holzer truism style i wrote the original post in is that it allows you to state things so broadly and generically that any criticism that "thats not always true" is just ridiculous which allows you to get at ideas that might otherwise be hard to get at but anyway i am digressing.

Another related thing that I was thinking about are these passages from Deleuze and Guattari's Anti Oedipus

"That is why the fundamental problem of political philosophy is still precisely the one that Spinoza saw so clearly, and that Wilhelm Reich rediscovered: "Why do men fight for their servitude as stubbornly as though it were their salvation?" How can people possibly reach the point of shouting: "More taxes! Less bread!"? As Reich remarks, the astonishing thing is not that some people steal or that others occasionally go out on strike, but rather that all those who are starving do not steal as a regular practice, and all those who are exploited are not continually out on strike (...) "(...) Reich is at his profoundest as a thinker when he refuses to accept ignorance or illusion on the part of the masses as an explanation of fascism, and demands an explanation that will take their desires into account, an explanation formulated in terms of desire: no, the masses were not innocent dupes; at a certain point, under a certain set of conditions, they wanted fascism, and it is this perversion of the desire of the masses that needs to be accounted for." (p. 29)

IF YOU STOP TO PAY ATTENTION TO HOW IT FEELS YOU MAY OBSERVE THAT IT FEELS BAD. EVENTUALLY YOU MUST STOP PAYING ATTENTION AND CONTINUE AS YOU WERE. AFTER ALL AS DOSTOYEVSKY SAYS MAN IS A CREATURE WHO GETS USED TO ANYTHING. MAKE NO MISTAKE. THE ABILITY NOT TO CRY OUT IN PAIN AGAINST THAT WHICH IS KILLING YOU DOES NOT MAKE YOU MORE LIKELY TO SURVIVE IT

[jmdbjk]

I have some fun news.

I am going to NYC to see Jimin's The Truth Untold Exhibition!!!! I'm so glad I bought tickets before it SOLD OUT! It is not sold out, only the early bird tickets are sold out. Regular price tickets are still available.

But see? That's how misinformation is spread, when one person on X screams it's sold out and random people (me, I'm random people) scroll through and see the post and run with it.... (rolls eyes).

ANYWAY...

I need to see Jimin's outfits in real life. I need to see the size and shape of that man up close and personal. I won't ever dream that I'd ever get to actually see Jimin in the flesh within touching distance but I will see his actual clothing within inches of myself and that's almost the next best thing.

I am going in June the week after the four are discharged, the tickets I bought are for June 21, the day Yoongi is released from his social service.

If there is a group live from the Hybe building lounge room couch while I'm in that exhibit I will scream with everyone else. My family will be traumatized but oh well, right?

It'll be a day to remember.

And... I discovered AFTER THE FACT that we booked our hotel right in the middle of Koreatown. I HAD NO IDEA until I started to look for restaurants and guess what? Antoya is 2 blocks from my hotel. I will take pictures. Not sure if we'll go eat there but who knows. We'll try.

[Yes, I used that potato quality, non-official pic.]

Of course I'll blog about the trip when I get back.

But WE HAVE SO MUCH TO ACCOMPLISH BEFORE THEN!!!

Jin's Echo album and subsequent tour!

FESTA!!! CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THE SCHEDULE!!!!

AND THE FREEDOM OF OUR SEVEN!!!! HOW WILL IT UNFOLD??? WHO WILL MEET WHO AT THE GATES??? I CAN'T WAIT!! I'M GONNA CRY, LOSE SLEEP, CRY SOME MORE!!!

Hobi wrapping up HOS tour and the HOS Final in Seoul ON FESTA DAY! And ANOTHER new song at some point!

The timing of Hobi's HOS Final concerts has been known for a long time. Securing that stadium for those dates had to be planned well ahead. I will be watching the livestream of both nights.

There is no way we will not see the freshly discharged members in some way, they will be there, in the audience or on stage or at the very least in photos from backstage. They will be there. Why wouldn't they? The timing was timed as if the Universe said "let it be so."

As far as performing, I won't wish too hard for it but they might?! The timing of these shows is just giving so much potential for anything to happen!

In a blog post on July 2, 2024, I said they would hit the ground running. Look at Jin and Hobi since.

They aren't going to "rest" after discharge. If you think that, you clearly have not been paying attention to what they've been saying for the past 3 years.

They've looked forward to all of this for YEARS, "this" meaning "this time of post-military enlistment" where nothing is in the way of their artistic freedom and living their lives the way they wish. It was such an ordeal to get to this point in time, years of delays, they are not going to sit around and let more time pass before they get back on stage.

Successful people are DRIVEN. They are ready to hit the ground running.

I am overwhelmed knowing in less than five weeks 6 out of 7 will be free. I don't want to get my hopes up but I feel strongly that at the very very least, a 7-member group photo will be shared at some point during those few days of total chaos.

I will watch the livestream of Jin's concert, but as of this moment, I am not going to go see him. Never say never though,right? But after watching his concert livestream, I might change my mind. We'll see. I reserve the right to book a last minute trip (its the way I roll anyway). I am very excited for his album next week!

This is going to be an unpopular opinion with some: Anyone who knows me knows I support all of them, right? But I gotta be real here. The AMAs are the American Music Awards. Jimin's Who went furthest over here than any of the others this past year. The no-brainer to me is to vote for Jimin for this particular award. I have to weigh the circumstances and the numbers.

The context was not taken into consideration in this case and now the votes are going to be split.

We need to be smarter and stop being driven by emotions when there clearly were numbers to show how big Who was in the U.S. this past year.

The drama and fighting was unnecessary. RPWP and Come Back to Me have won so many critical awards – real, peer reviewed and film industry awards – that trying to "give" Namjoon this AMA award just seems very manipulative.

Don't get me wrong, if Namjoon wins this I WILL BE ECSTATIC that Army actually pulled it off. But I will also be surprised if he wins because I know the votes are split between he and Jimin. I'm afraid it will be a sad situation of self-sabotage and the BP girl is going to win because of that.

In other instances, if I am faced with choosing between Jimin and any of the others... Jimin is my man y'all. It is what it is.

Regarding fans who also went on hiatus: Let the fans who took a break come back without criticizing them. Let the casual fans be casual. Just because they weren't obsessed with social media these past few years does not make them "less" of a fan or unimportant. There will always be someone doing something "more" than you in some aspect so just shut up and let them come back and get off your high horse of self-importance.

I do not sustain a constant social media presence but I'm here with my face in the BTS business every single day. I know what is going on to obsessive levels.

I also have a life, a job, family, etc that I must pay attention to as well. But in my down time, everything BTS is what I'm obsessed with. You just don't see me needlessly posting about myself doing it 24/7.

Let. Them. Be. The world needs BTS, let the world come as they are, casual, hardcore, baby Army, OG Army, everyone come to the BTS table and feast! No one has a right to gate keep the 7.

Every day that comes keeps getting brighter and brighter knowing our 7 will be back together NEXT MONTH! 30 days left for Jimin and Jungkook, 40 for Yoongi, 29 for Namjoon and Tae.

[fruit-fight]

YOU GET IT!

Hear me out!( Ramble that quickly turned into a dialogue mini fic)

Wukong finally starts to understand the beef when he starts attending PTA with Macaque, so he's like, "dw babe, watch this." And decides to show off their son's other 50% which as we all know is gremlin little shit(who also happens to be FILTHY rich). Imagine one of her kids is a fan of Monkey King(he's all over children's media), and another is a friend of Xiaoxing, so both get invited to his birthday. Linda has to go or she looks petty and can't pull the old "well you can't expect everyone to be available at the same time" bc Mac made a point to invite her and her sons, personally, in front of everyone including her sons. Her babies even got their own individual royal RSVP cards to feel grown up. She looks at the location. It's FFM and free, SAFE, transportation is provided. Wukong is standing behind Mac, looking far too pleased despite doing everything he can over the centuries to keep people out. Her sons are estatic. She can't refuse or bash it. But she's too stubborn to trust sending her boys only, so she's coming.

Wukong remodeled everything back to its glory days. The cave tunnel system are all rustic, beautifully carved hallways of the mountain that's technically a palace on the inside with modern touches in the more "commonly used" areas, like tech and plumbing(✨️Magic✨️) and hand painted murals. The mountain is literally a stone palace! The weather is perfection. The Monkies are perfectly mannered, gentle, and playful with all the kids Xiaoxing invited, and avoid Linda like the plague after she huffed and puffed about animals loving her. To the point it was almost comical watching them go out of their way to get away from her, a bold young one going so far as to throw a nut at her head to give another the chance to escape(theyre all over Macaque as usual tho). And the beaches are pristine.

Wukong worked on it for months just to see Linda's face as Mac had the time of his life rubbing it all in.

Macaque: "Oh, Linda, I'm sure your 5th husband would have party prepped an entire island, and payed for all the cantering, and bought a pile of expensive gifts, and payed for all the set up, and still be an amazing stay at home dad if you gave him the chance. Or was it the 3rd? Which one are you on now? I can't remember. At least you never get back with an ex, you're so much stronger than Wukong and I, in that regard. Guess we can't seem to let the other go" *sighs wistfully*

Wukong: *Slides up next to them with brightly colored drinks* Hey Mrs. ___! Hello, beautiful~ the Nannies you're sister recommended just arrived and bar is now open~

Linda, desperately latching onto the only thing she can complain about: Hello, Mr. Sun~ that sounds fun but I gave up most alcohol after my first litter, besides this is a children's birthday party. I wouldn't want that to be what breaks my streak. It'd be irresponsible of me.

Shadowpeach: *bombastic side eye*

Wukong: Well, that's no problem, everyone to their own. Virgin is an option for most drinks, and I caught that 'most', plum wine, and peach wine are both options available. Also there will be karaoke for the kids soon soooo

Macaque, genuinely surprised and pleased: *gasp* Plum wine?! You got my favorite? I haven't had that in forever!

Wukong: one correction, I made Plum wine with the grove I grew here for you. And yeah, I noticed you haven't had the chance to relax were you weren't to tired to bother with alcohol so I picked up a couple old hobbies. I had the time to kill anyway for a bit of research. Surprise!

Macaque, genuinely touched and lowkey forgetting the act for a second: Oh, mango, thats so sweet🥰

Linda:

Wukong: That reminds me, I'm also giving mango wine a go, so that'll be out of the cellar in a few months for taste testing.

Macaque, remembering himself and trying really hard(failing) to get his shit together: That'll be fun!

Linda, lowkey fuming as she watches the exchange: I'm sure. So what is that you have there Mr. Sun?~

Wukong, legit forgot she was there for a sec: oh! Right! *hands a rainbow drink to Macaque* This is a drink I saw online. Thought it would be fun to try.

They both take a sip.

Wukong: Oh!

Macaque: This is actually really good, what's it called?

Wukong, already giggling: Sex on the Beach

Macaque, rolling his eyes fondly: So Mature. Though that does remind me~ You worked so hard to make today perfect for Xiaoxing, how will I ever thank you?~

Wukong, caught a little off guard: *Stares. Looks down at his drink as though asking what was in it before deciding he didn't care rn. Looks back up at Macaque, processes. Glances down at the drink again before finally focusing on Mac and responding* I might be feeling inspired~

Linda, actually loosing her mind at being pushed aside so casually so many times: Maybe I will have a little treat for Mommy. Wukong, you seem to know your stuff, any recommendations?~

Wukong: I'm sure you'll get a much more interesting answer out of our bartender. Anyway, peach! You want me to adjust your dampening spell now or later? One of the kids seem really excited about Frozen.

Macaque, delighted by the way Linda's face crumpled at being brushed off by Wukong: I can wait until they pull out the machine, thank you mango~ *pecks his cheek just to rub it in*

Linda finally huffed and stomped off toward the bar as dignified as she can manage, leaving Macaque giggling into Wukongs shoulder. Wukong trying not to laugh as he watches her stumble through the sand on unfamiliar paws.

Wukong: Well pissing her off was fun

Macaque: Right! Did you see her face after she asked for a drink? I think she expected you to fetch it for her!

Wukong: I did! Dumb bitch. I'm literally a king. Even if I was interested, expecting me to wait on you is not how you flirt with me.

Macaque: I don't know~ you seem pretty eager to serve me last week~ you look so pretty on your knees.

Wukong: Stfu. I'm gonna go check on the other parents.

Macaque: Okay, I'm gonna go check on the kids and let the caterers know they can bring out the popsicles now.

When are you gonna drop a Linda design? I need to draw the beef!/silly

- @fruit-fight

Give me an animal to base her off of and I’ll get to work💃💃

[lemotmo]

Just rewatched the episode and omg the kitchen scene. Absolute cinema. Eddie just walking in calmly seeing the groceries seeing buck and then realising buck is pissed about something. It's so married coded. How many times have i seen arguments like this. Starting off small innocuous and then the actual problem comes out. The tension the acting... just chefs kiss. How both are hurting and just want the other to hug them. The lighting the cinematography. Hands down one of my favourite scenes in the show if not one my favorite buddie scene.

Only wish they hadn't had Ryan do the move forward and point at buck thing. Only because all I see are bad takes and ammunition for that Fandom that it's ruining my experience. I know I know I should ignore them but when it comes to Eddie i can't help it😅. Also made me wonder how the GA took this as. A scene between 'bros'? Or actually intimate moment? Do they even understand Eddie's characterization?

Anyway I'm gonna go and watch it again. Need to feed this into my veins.

I've combined these three asks, because they all touch upon a few topics I really wanted to talk about.

First of all, OH GOD YES! That scene was literal gold. It was soooo good! The acting was top notch, the direction and camera work were both amazing. Oliver was great as always and Ryan... well, that man has been showing us time and time again that he is one of the better actors on this show. They are all great, but that kitchen scene was on another level. I have rewatched it a billion times already! 😄

Both Buck and Eddie were at their most vulnerable in this scene. They wanted to show us that these two men KNOW each other through and through and even though they are hurting and grieving, they can still call each other out for their bullshit. It was like watching a married couple getting into a heated disagreement. Pure gold.

I'm also pretty sure the GA has caught on what is going on by now. 8x11 was very clear on the Buddie of it all. Then we had all those Facetime calls in 12 and 13. A lot of these people have been watching these kinds of procedurals for a very long time. 8x17 just made it more clear where this story is headed. They can see it coming.

Now for the discourse part of this reply:

I agree that it is VERY frustrating that some people have started using very loaded words, such as 'abuse' and 'assault', when it comes to Eddie's behaviour in the kitchen scene.

Especially because there is not an ounce of truth in any of their statements. In fact, most of these allegations are made because Eddie is clearly being set up as Buck's great big true love interest. And some fans do not agree with that, because they want Buck with someone else. So basically these 'abuse' or 'assault' claims are being made over a ship, which is frankly insane.

The way I look at it is that the majority of fans are extremely happy with the episode and especially this kitchen scene. But a small part of the 911 fandom have disliked and hated Eddie ever since BT happened. That hasn't changed. It never will, because Eddie is in the way of a plot device that used to be a racist and misogynistic bully. 🙄

And rereading that last sentence? Well, the fact that they keep stanning their own very problematic white man while openly hating on a half-Mexican man who had a short heated discussion with Buck? Tells me enough.

As for those few Buddie shippers/Buck stans who are also hating on Eddie? Pfff, again... nothing new, is it? Their precious Buckaroo needs to be protected at all times. Poor baby. 🙄

They refuse to let go of any of the arguments Buddie have ever had and where Eddie said something hurtful to Buck. I swear... the amount of times I still read about the whole 'You are exhausting' thing that Eddie once said SEASONS ago, is insane.

Why are people still stuck on that one line? Buck has long forgotten about that line, but some people still cling to it as some kind of misguided proof of abuse.

It's a dramatic TV-show! There will be drama between the characters! That's what makes these shows so interesting.

Buck is a grown man. He doesn't need coddling or babying. Having these kinds of confrontations and discussions will make him think and it will help his character evolve. There is no need to keep Buck into this 'oh poor baby' state of mind. Let him out!

Also, I don't think that any of these people yelling abuse know what they are talking about in the first place. Social media has really given a lot of people a skewed image of wat abuse really looks like.

Having a heated argument in the kitchen is NOT abuse. Using your finger to angrily point at someone is NOT abuse. Showing someone that you are also grieving and in pain? THAT IS NOT ABUSE!

It's frankly disturbing that people seem to have convinced themselves it is actual abuse, especially in a show that has shown us REAL abuse with the Maddie & Doug storyline.

If what happened in that kitchen between Eddie and Buck was abuse? My entire family, myself included, would be 'abusers'. I come from a passionate family and we have these kinds of arguments a lot. 😆 Half an hour later all is forgiven and forgotten again. 🤷‍♀️

Look, at the end of the day, there will always be unhappy people who will hate on Eddie for no reason whatsoever. It sucks, but it won't change.

I tend to ignore them and let them scream into the void. Block whenever I come across them.

Because you know what?

We all know the truth: Eddie is a wonderful man and Buck is lucky to have him in his life.

Oh and...

Buddie is going canon. Suck it up haters! 😌

[queenjunothegreat]

Hello, everyone, I am BACK with something incredibly stupid. And this one is actually a collaboration! @ihavetoomany-fandoms invoked my name, @demigod-shenanigans picked the prompt, @damstaplereater decided on POV, @manygeese named Jason's lacrosse buddies, @imliterallyinsanern decided on the monster, and @apollo-is-somthing chose how Jason got detention! Fun games all around, thank you all for playing (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ EDIT! Fic added under the cut for all the Tumblr readers out there <3

ANYWAY, here's another post-FsH Edgarton Valgrace fic: Yes Leo Time

“Do either of you know how to get a week’s worth of detention, fast?” Jason blurted. It was an embarrassing question to have to ask, but he was desperate and willing to get his help from anywhere at this point. Keith and David exchanged a puzzled look, before turning back to Jason. “Uh, yeah, probably,” David said slowly. “Why?” “Leo got detention,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been trying to get detention all afternoon, but I can’t figure it out.” “So that’s why you were just standing through Mr. Thomason’s lecture,” Keith laughed brightly. Jason groaned and hid his face in his arms again. “Guys, please. I’m running out of time. If I don’t get detention now, I won’t get it today.” “And why do you want detention again?” “Because Leo has detention,” Jason repeated like it should have been very obvious, which, to be clear, it was. “Your boyfriend got detention, so you’re getting detention, too, so you can hang out with him?” David asked, chin resting in his palm and eyes shining in mirth. “Gotta say, you’ve got weird taste in dates, Grace.” *** Jason gets detention

So, yeah, I’m gonna have after class detention for, like, a week. Leo had said the words so casually when he’d met up with Jason for their usual morning break, not realizing he was ruining Jason’s whole day. Really and truly, Jason shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew that Leo was by no means a teacher’s pet. He’d heard plenty of stories from him and Piper both about the nonsense the two of them had gotten up to at Wilderness, as well as them swapping tales of all their misdemeanors from before meeting. Piper was the self-dubbed “scourge of the LA private school system” and Leo seemed like his default state was getting into some sort of trouble. He’d even heard Piper complain over Iris Message about the punishments she’d been racking up at her school. Really and truly, it should have come as a shock that Leo hadn’t gotten detention before now.

But that was the thing. Leo hadn’t gotten detention. Not the whole four months that they’d been at Edgarton. Apparently, “fancy pants rich boy schools” are more than willing to kick out the brown kid on scholarship if he makes too much of a fuss, and Leo really didn’t want to get kicked out, a stance which made Jason feel a little fuzzy inside. So, Leo had been remarkably well-behaved, going to class and keeping his pranks to mild annoyances at worst, and Jason had assumed that they were basically home free.

What he’d forgotten to consider was the fact that Leo was an obstinate little bastard when he wanted to be. According to him, his Spanish teacher – a lady with blue eyes and bright red hair named Ms. Jones – had mistakenly corrected his pronunciation one too many times, and he’d decided that he’d simply not participate in her class. He still attended, so as not to get caught skipping, but he didn’t do any of the work she’d assigned him, and rattled off random bouts of Ancient Greek any time she tried to talk to him. Jason couldn’t really find fault in Leo’s actions (he’d nearly bitten off his classmate’s finger when he’d tried telling Jason he was conjugating his Latin wrong) but he wasn’t really fond of the results. He didn’t particularly like the fact that Leo was now going to be spending an extra hour and a half sitting in a classroom every day for a week. 

So, Jason had come up with a foolproof plan: get detention himself. Sure, he could just as well do, well, not that, but that would mean a whole seven and a half hours of No Leo Time, which would cut into his already limited Yes Leo Time, considering they only shared two classes. And what was Jason supposed to do while Leo was in detention? Sit around the dorm and just wait for Leo to come back? No! Jason was a Roman, a warrior. He wasn’t going to just sit there and twiddle his thumbs and wait for Leo, not when he could go out and face the threat head-on at Leo’s side! No, the only option he had was to get detention just like Leo.

The only problem was he… didn’t know how to do that.

Unfortunately, to match his best friends’ delinquent status, Jason was the most comically straight-laced student Edgarton had seen in a very long time, possibly ever. He didn’t follow the rules blindly (he had killed his math teacher a month before, after finding out she was an empousai, after all, and he was pretty sure that was against the rules) but he liked discipline and order. The rules of Edgarton were simple and reasonable, and Jason understood the benefit of most of them and the ones he didn’t love weren’t exactly a hardship. It was almost second nature for Jason to just… follow the rules laid out before him. He was so good at it, in fact that all of his teachers seemingly didn’t think he was capable at breaking the rules at all, which made getting detention very difficult.

Tried talking in class? The boy next to him was given two warnings before Jason shut up.

Tried breaking something? Oh, that globe really was in an inconvenient spot. It was bound to get knocked over some day. 

He’d even tried just standing in the middle of the room, completely stone faced and silent instead of going to his seat and his teacher had applauded him for his daring performance art. Granted, he probably should have tried that in a class other than Theater, but it had been his last class of the day and he’d run out of ideas. 

Now, things were really down to the wire. Jason was sitting in his homeroom class with only five minutes left before the final bell dismissed him and he would be sent back to his lonely dorm room sans boyfriend, and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Woah, Jay, you good, man?”

Jason looked up from where he’d had his head buried in his arms, wallowing in defeat to see Keith and David watching him with concerned looks. He liked Keith and David. They were on the lacrosse team with him, and they always made an effort to rope him into team stuff when he was awkwardly hovering on the fringes, unsure of what to do with himself. They were also pretty understanding and also had lots of experience being a teenager, which Jason admittedly lacked.

“Do either of you know how to get a week’s worth of detention, fast?” Jason blurted. It was an embarrassing question to have to ask, but he was desperate and willing to get his help from anywhere at this point.

Keith and David exchanged a puzzled look, before turning back to Jason. “Uh, yeah, probably,” David said slowly. “Why?”

“Leo got detention,” Jason admitted. “I’ve been trying to get detention all afternoon, but I can’t figure it out.”

“So that’s why you were just standing through Mr. Thomason’s lecture,” Keith laughed brightly.

Jason groaned and hid his face in his arms again. “Guys, please. I’m running out of time. If I don’t get detention now, I won’t get it today.”

“And why do you want detention again?”

“Because Leo has detention,” Jason repeated like it should have been very obvious, which, to be clear, it was.

“Your boyfriend got detention, so you’re getting detention, too, so you can hang out with him?” David asked, chin resting in his palm and eyes shining in mirth. “Gotta say, you’ve got weird taste in dates, Grace.”

“Guys! Come on!”

“Well, I mean, there is one option,” Keith said slowly. “But Coach isn’t gonna be happy with you.”

“Keith, what do–”

“I’ll do it,” Jason said immediately, glancing at the clock. Time was running short. “Just tell me what it is.”

“Jay, man, no! Don’t do this,” David protested. “Keith, what the hell?”

“He just looks so sad!” Keith argued. “I can’t just sit here.”

David rolled his eyes, but sat back. “Fine. Whatever, man. Do what you gotta.”

Keith turned back to Jason with a beaming smile. “Alright then. Punch me in the face.”

Without a second thought, Jason reared back and decked him.

*-*-*

Leo hated detention. He’d never loved detention, seeing as sitting in a boring room for an hour and a half should have been considered cruel and unusual punishment for someone like him, but since coming to Edgarton, he’d been very careful to avoid getting written up or anything like that. Partially because he was genuinely worried about getting kicked out if he became more of an effort than his (quite frankly, amazing) test scores were worth, but mostly because he had much better things to do now. Why the hell would he want to spend a second longer than he had to in a classroom when he could, instead, be swapping spit with his hot boyfriend? He wouldn’t. Obviously. He wouldn’t go so far as to say he regretted antagonizing Ms. Jones for the  better half of a week, but he did sort of wish he could have managed to land himself with lunch detention instead. Or better yet, detention instead of her class. It wasn’t like he needed her to teach him Spanish. He could ace her stupid quizzes in his sleep and pronounce everything correctly to boot.

But no. Ms. Jones was too fucking crafty for him, and she’d assigned him after school detention. He wondered if she knew that she was keeping him from making out with Jason. If she did, would that count as homophobia? He’d believe that Ms. Jones was homophobic. She had that air about her. Then again, even if she was, Leo doubted that “she gave me the wrong kind of detention so I couldn’t kiss my boyfriend” would really hold up in any sort of court. Damn her. Outmaneuvered him again. 

“Mr. Grace? What are you doing here?”

Leo whipped his head around to see Jason standing in the doorway, flushed cherry red and holding a sheet of paper, which he awkwardly handed over to Mrs. Warren. “I, um, have detention?”

Mrs. Warren looked down at the sheet, which Leo could now only assume was a detention slip, then back up at Jason, looking at him like he’d grown a second head. “Seems you do. Well, go on then. Take a seat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jason did that weird little twitch he did when he was smothering the reflex to salute and shuffled over to sit next to Leo. Mrs. Warren watched them with an arched eyebrow, but said nothing and went back to her cross stitch. Leo was glad Mrs. Warren was running detention. Mrs Warren was cool. And probably not homophobic, unlike Ms. Jones.

“So,” Leo drawled, cupping his chin and leveling Jason with a playful smirk. “How’d a guy like you wind up in a place like this, hm? Say ‘yes, sir’ one too many times or something?”

“Uh, no,” Jason said. He was refusing to look at Leo, which Leo didn’t mind because it meant he got to just stare at Jason and see the adorable flush deepening on his cheeks. “I, um, got in a fight.”

Leo’s eyebrows shot up and his face split open in a grin. “Ooh, a fight? I had no idea I was dating a bad boy.” Then his face puckered in concern. “Wait, why were you fighting? Was it a monster or–”

“I– Well, no,” Jason admitted. “And it wasn’t… really a fight. I just punched Keith once.”

“You punched Keith? I thought you liked Keith.”

“I do!” he insisted. “He told me to punch him!”

Leo squinted at Jason, who was still refusing to look at him, much like a dog sitting next to a mess they were desperately pretending they didn’t make. “And why did Keith tell you to punch him?”

“He said that was the fastest way to get detention?”

“And why did Keith want to get you in detention?” Jason mumbled something Leo couldn’t hear, so he made a show of cleaning out his ear and cupping his hand to it. “Run that by me one more time, compadre?” 

“I didn’t want you to be in detention by yourself?” Jason repeated. “I was worried Mrs. Warren was a… water nymph.”

“Uh-huh,” Leo grinned, cupping his chin in his hand. “And here I thought the nymphs were the good guys. My hero.”

“Nymphs aren’t always good,” Jason said seriously. “Back in Rome, some tried to drown me and Piper. And Percy.”

“Right, right. So, this is strictly a recon mission, it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that you’d be stuck boyfriendless?”

Jason finally turned to him, his face puffed up in what was probably supposed to be a scowl, but definitely came out as a pout. “I would have missed you.”

Leo felt his heart leap in his chest and his cheeks get warm as his grin turned more than a little besotted. He knew Jason cared about him. Like, to an almost embarrassing degree. He knew factually that he was Jason’s favorite person on the planet, but the thought that Jason – Mr. Perfect Pants himself – would stage a fight just to spend time with him made him giddier than a school girl. Without thinking, he grabbed Jason by the face and pulled him down for a kiss, brushing his thumbs over his wonderful boyfriend’s delightfully warm cheeks. Jason made a sharp startled sound for only a moment before he melted into the kiss, his hands coming up to hold onto Leo’s wrists like a lifeline. 

“Mr. Valdez, Mr. Grace, please refrain from public displays of affection in the classroom,” Mrs. Warren called lazily. “Feel free to do so in your own time, but wait until you are released.”

Leo pulled away from Jason and gave her a salute that was so sloppy it probably made a little piece of Jason’s soul die. “You got it, teach.” He turned back to Jason and very matter-of-factly said, “I’m like ninety-seven point six percent sure I’m in love with you.”

Jason just sat there and blinked stars out of his eyes, cheeks flushed and his lips curled up in an almost drunken smile. “Cool. I should get detention more often.”

Leo laughed brightly, loud enough that any teacher other than Mrs. Warren would have yelled at him, and grabbed Jason’s hand. He scooted over so their chairs were right next to one another and rested his head on Jason’s shoulder. Jason squeezed his hand and pressed a kiss to his hair, and Leo felt his heart melt just that little bit more. He shut his eyes and hummed softly, content to just listen to Jason breathe. 

Maybe he should get detention more often, too. 

[zaddizu]

hiii, to shift we only need to assume/embody, but how to deal with yk the frustration of not shifting even after doing all that + sleep methods for 2-3 weeks? like I don't understand.. shifting isn't supposed to take this long?

hello!!!! okay so i’m not the most educated on shifting, i’m not some all knowing god, nor have i shifted. but i’ll give you the best i can. most of this is just my opinions so feel free to nit pick what feels right to you, as shifting is all your beliefs. take what you will.

shifting is a practice that you get better at everyday. but nonetheless, it’s unfamiliar, it’s new, and it’s not something you get on the first time trying. (well, unless you’re bloody awesome, but it’s unlikely to happen.) anywho, you shouldn’t get upset about not getting stuff the first time. just like any other hobby or practice ; there’s layers. there’s stuff to learn. you could be a professional ghost hunter and still have stuff catch you off guard like… i dunno… ed and loraine, i guess? bad example, sorry. but you get it. it’s unfamiliar and it’s okay.

stemming off the shifting isn’t supposed to take this long part, it can take that long — actually, for most it does — but the length it takes doesn’t mean your result will be any different. it’s still the same end goal, even if it takes 2 days or 2 years. shifting isn’t some huge treasure that will differ in quality if you make the wrong move, it’s just.. there. it’s an option, a possibility you may or may want to take. don’t put it on a pedestal if it’s literally optional. it’s not that special. you’re not god tearing and making new universes, you’re you. you’re shifting your awareness from one place to another, so don’t over think it.

anyways, you don’t assume, you know. because it’s true; you’re already there. time doesn’t pause in your dr just because you’re not there, it’s ongoing. you’re probably making tea right now, maybe dropping your phone into the kettle. you’re already there, you’re just not aware of that yet. you get what i’m tryna say?

to deal with the ‘failed’ attempts? well, there isn’t a definite way. i mean, you’re human in this reality wherever you want to or not. you’ll have emotions, you’ll get annoyed, you’ll get frustrated. of course you will. just handle those emotions. don’t take them too seriously, push them away (not down, kick them out. they aren’t welcome. don’t bottle up emotions) and get on with it. this is what helps with me, perhaps you’re different, but try not to let it get to you. try new things, maybe an awake method, maybe randomly try at random points in the day, maybe start doing reality checks. either way, there isn’t a definite way to get rid of frustration, but there’s methods to bully it. to make it feel small. you’re in control, emotions are just the side effects.

[kidspawn]

In regards to this post

One thing to consider, which I was speaking to @feralkwe about, is how Gansey and Adam all but explicitly have romantic/more-than-platonic feelings towards one another. I don’t know if this was intended, and obviously The Raven Cycle dabbles in that blurring of lines between what is considered friendship, romantic, queerplatonic, etc. And we all joke that their divorce arc and their situationship is the real emotional crux of the first two books (when literally Adam’s love for Gansey is the main reason he takes the actions he does.), but... we’re not wrong?

In regards to the late night phone calls, where Gansey mentions Adam as the first choice to call when he can’t sleep, and alludes to this being not only his initial urge, but it being a common occurrence. Correlate with the idea of the reason Gansey is in love with Blue being that when he talks to her, he can sleep. When he grows explicitly romantic feelings for Blue, he begins calling her to speak and voice his thoughts and to make his head quiet. An action he participates in with Adam during the first book. Not just in phone calls, but Adam serves as the person he bounces ideas off of, the person he goes to when his thoughts need an outlet, and the person he calls when he can’t sleep. 

And this was pointed out, and I’m running with it - Gansey and Blue start hanging out after Adam and Gansey’s relationship gets incredibly tense. And I’m not saying that Gansey was coping by almost replacing Adam with Blue in this dynamic, but Blue becomes more of Gansey’s confidant as Adam grows distant. And I love Blue and Gansey and this is not to frame Blue as the second choice, or any such bizarre notion, but the emotional connection is one Gansey desperately craves and associates with a romantic connection. (Though he doesn’t voice this as something he uses to define love until Adam asks him how he knows he’s in love in The Raven King. So. Food for thought.)

I also think, while it’s hard to piece together Adam’s own stance (because getting a straight [heh] answer out of Adam is like going up a stream without a paddle except you’re on a cardboard box and the river is raging and intent on destruction for even trying to navigate it), I think it comes down to: Adam’s faith in Gansey, and Adam’s envy of Gansey. Adam’s “imperfect faith” in magic but his unwavering faith in Gansey, and his inability to say no to him (a sentiment he makes explicit, he does not think he can deny Gansey, and he shows this multiple times), his devotion to Gansey being the main reason he kickstarts the events of the last book. More obvious, and incredibly damning, is Adam’s relationship with envy and wanting to be like someone and how that translates to his attraction. Each explicit attraction Adam has is tied into a sense of envy, a quality of the person he wants to emulate. And his envy of Gansey is a constant in his every interaction. Also, you could say a lot about Adam being useful and seeing usefulness as a trait to express his affection, and his determination to be useful to Gansey and help him accomplish his goals. 

Anyway, this could all mean nothing and I’m just imagining things except I’m not and I stand firm that Adam and Gansey would have kissed if anyone had given Gansey a sip (a sip!) of alcohol in Adam’s presence. And yeah bros being bros, but something something about “hey tiger” and “Gansey was stupid about Adam” and “I can sleep when I talk to her” and not saying no to Gansey and Adam wanting to protect and save Gansey and god was that casual? I’m not saying this all leads me to read the relationship with a romantic undertone, but please know that Gansey wanted to smooth Adam’s forehead with his thumb like his mother did to his father. Okay, have a good night <3