#based off that one screenshot when hes making that dumbass face

[bobosbillionsknives]

Painting practice 💖✨

[tootiecakes234]

Warning: NSFW

Character aged up

You ask Katsuki if you can paint his PP🤭:

“No! Get the hell away from me!” And he starts walking away from you.

“But Katsuki! I’d make it so pretty. I already have a vision in mind. I want to paint it into a microphone! Maybe sing a song into it.” You say following behind him, positive you aren’t helping your situation.

“Y/N if you don’t get away from me right now, we are breaking up. I’m packing my shit and leaving and you’ll never see me ever again! I meant it.” And he plops down on the couch with an exaggerated groan. “You’ve lost your entire fucking mind, smooth brain.”

You know you’re gonna have to grovel for this one. You try to slide yourself onto his lap, but he pushes you off and you bounce a little on the couch cushions.

“No, you’re not kissing and snuggling your way into this. I’m not letting you practice your goddamn painting skills on my dick. Where do you even come up with this shit?” He says now looking at you with wide, concerned eyes.

“Well I was scrolling on TikTok-“

“And there it goes. I’m not even surprised.”

You lean over and run your hands over the his wide chest and buff arms.

“‘Suki when you think about, a microphone is only two colors. Black and grey. It would only take me like 5 minutes.” And then you start pressing kisses to his neck. “Pretty please. I’ll even hop in the shower with you after and help you clean up.” There’s a sultry lilt to your voice. This is something you pull out all the weapons in your arsenal for.

“Y/N i go along with a lot of your dumbass ideas, but I’m drawing the line. No paint on my d-dick. Fuck, cut it out.” You had slipped your hands down his stomach and right under the shorts he had on.

“But it’ll be easier to paint if its hard Kat, don’t ya think?” You whisper up against his ear. You run your thumb over the top and smear the precum over his slit.

“Ugghhh. I hate you, you know that.” He groans really low.

“Mmmmhhh. Pretty please,” you say and stroke down to the base of his cock and then back up. “With a cherry on top.”

“You have 10 f-fucking minutes! And that paint better be safe for skin or I swear to god!” He shouts at you.

You’re up and off the couch before he can even finish that sentence and within a minute you’re back with the paint you already had prepared and brushes.

You get down on your knees, in between his legs, and place your supplies on the ground next you. For him to be so against it, he’s already pulled off his shirt and underwear. He’s accepted his fate.

“Okay, if any of the brushes are uncomfortable or the paints don’t feel good, let me know k?” You say looking up at him.

This man has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s glaring daggers into you.

“What the hell ever woman. Hurry up, your time’s tickin.”

So you pick up a big fluffy brush and dip it into the black paint before you start working on the base of his dick.

As soon as the brush touches against his skin Katsuki screams bloody murder. Its scared the hell out of you and you’re surprised at yourself that you don’t drop the damn brush and get paint everywhere.

When you look up at him to ask him what’s wrong the bastard has a smirk on his goddamn face his shoulder are shaking because he’s holding in his laughter.

“You should’ve seen yourself. Your entire body took a screenshot. I thought you might go into shock.” Now he’s outwardly laughing loud as fuck.

He thinks he’s such a comedian. Well too bad for him because we’re a freakin party clown.

While he’s still laughing you bend down and take the head of his cock in your mouth and swirl your tongue all over it.

His laugh is cut short and you look up to see him squeezing his eyes shut. You pull your head back up and give him a sweet smile.

“So now, how about you cut out the jokes and let me focus on my masterpiece.” And you hear him grumble back some kind of rude response but you take that as an understanding.

You breathe and try to gain your composure before you start back on the task in front of you. You again start at the base of his cock and then do long stokes upwards until you get right below the shroomed tip.

You’re about halfway through when you notice his cock twitching and leaking pre all over.

Oh my gosh he likes this. Or it at least feels good because damn. When you look up at him there’s a blush covering his face and his lips are tight like he’s trying to hold in sounds that might escape. His eyes though are trained on the brush in your hand as you work.

You were about to speak when he cut you off, “Don’t. Just hurry up and finish”

“Yes sir” you say slyly as your start working on the other side.

“Ok. Base is done. Now the tip, I know how sensitive you are so I’ll try to be gentle.” And now you’re the one with a smirk on your face. “Look I can’t paint correctly if there’s precum constantly leaking up here.”

“The fuck do you want me to do. I’m not making it leak out on purpose.” He rolls his eyes at, throws his head back and uses his arm to cover his face. Hes not quick enough to cover the blush that’s dusting his cheeks.

It’s so funny that he still get embarrassed in front of you. You take your thumb and lightly run it over the top to pick up as much pre as possible then you pop it in your mouth. Then you get to work.

You dab lightly around it and make sure to avoid the opening. You hear Katsuki’s breath become more ragged.

“Ok, I’m all done. Take a look.” He removes his arms and leans his head back up. You see that his eyes are blown but you try to ignore it for now. “Do you see the vision?”

“This is so dumb.” Is the only answer you get from him.

Next thing you know you’ve wrapped your hand around it and you start singing. “ANNNNDDDDD IIIIIIIII—eeeee-IIIIII will always love Y-“

You’re cut off because he’s gotten up grabbing you with him and now you’re thrown over his shoulder.

“I’m done with this. Not about to watch you sing Karaoke into my penis. You promised me a shower.”he says as he starts striding toward the bathroom.

“But I wasn’t done! I wanted to take pictures and maybe rap a verse or two. Kats wait dammit.”

“No. I was nice. I let you play and have your fun. Now it’s my turn to play around and have some fun.” You can hear the smug grin on his face.

You take this opportunity and slap his naked ass hard asf. You were right outside the bathroom door and the jerk sets you on your feet so quickly you feel like you’re gonna fall.

“You’re gonna pay for that brat.”

And oh do you pay for it.😭

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @i-literally-cant-with-this @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife

*I have a tag list. Let me know if you wanna be added💕🤗

[velvetvexations]

Even putting aside what a ridiculous comparison that is, I need it understood that the primary way transradfems engage with "material reality" is through movies from the previous century.

It's hypervisibility vs. invisibility. Trans women were openly mocked and trans men were ignored or just subsumed into a range of experiences for cis women. That's changing now that trans men are getting more spotlight than they had before, although it's still tilted in those directions.

But there was genuinely nothing transphobic about Chihiro's story and to say there was you have to prove his model was trans women and transitioning children when there is an extremely well-established category of AMAB people who present as girls in Japanese culture that is infinitely more talked about in pop culture over there. You have to insist upon the fact that he was ever connected to people who sincerely identify as girls in the first place. If this was America, it'd make more sense, but it is actually just genuinely racist to be told all that and still be like "well, but it makes me think of trans women."

This is why transradfems hate me, too. A trans woman disagreeing with them breaks their rules.

Especially the person who cannot stop fucking bypassing my block to screenshot my blog and then justifying it by claiming I do it, even though I fucking deleted those posts after she complained and have not mentioned her a single time since unless she did first.

Here's the thing: I DON'T THINK NOT WANTING TO ASSOCIATE WITH AGAB LANGUAGE IS UNREASONABLE AT ALL! But it's fucking projecting as fuck to say that people who don't like TMA/TME language must simply want to cling to AGAB. I mean, holy fuck, right? That's not what's being argued dumbass - but she can't think of any other way to divide trans people based on AGAB without referencing it in some way, so her ideal replacement is TMA/TME, that's the two kinds of trans people that exist, you're not AMAB or AFAB you're TMA or TME, this is so fucking masks off it's wild that other transradfems aren't mortified by her saying the quiet part out loud. This should just completely obliterate every trace of protest when someone points out TME is in practice exclusively used to refer to AFAB trans people and no one else ever, unless what she's actually saying is that AFAB trans people are so close to cis women that they might as well just by default be called the same thing and have no other way of identifying themselves when you talk about categories of trans people and their experiences.

But it's so intensely psychologically revealing. I don't think she's ever been misgendered a single time in her life. I don't think she's ever had even the slightest actual barrier to hop in her quest to live as a woman, because this oversensitivity where someone acknowledging transphobes see us as our assigned sex counts as them misgendering you? That's just not the behavior of someone who actually deals with these things in the real world. Or even online. Again, I get pedojacketed and threatened with actual cancelation from my actual career because I engage with actual TERFs. These people never do anything but moan about tee-em-ees misgendering them by discussing how the enemy perceives us. And she in particular is the most desperate to shut that out, because that is the only reminder there could ever possibly be a hypothetical obstacle to her claiming her girl card. I have zero doubt she lives in the queerest city on the planet and if she didn't have internet she would literally be unable to even conceive of transphobia as a concept. And she fucking hates me for not just being a trans woman who agrees with the transandrobros, but also personally identifies with my AGAB. The implication that it's possible for a trans woman to be okay with the term "male" shatters her self-esteem. That is the extent of "misgendering" she has ever faced and ever will face. Me identifying the way I do terrifies her, I have to be objectively wrong about claiming identification with my AGAB because she copes with insecurity by imagining a world where TERFs are right but instead of biology everyone's soul is either Male and Female and you can only be one or the other. Gender can't just be people figuring out who they are and the ways they want to express themselves and live their lives, that's not real enough for her, she has to be Trve Fymyle the way TERFs go on about, except instead of centering around wombs it's this weird vaguely spiritual concept that she forces everyone else to fit into because if they don't it implies her framework isn't the tangible reality she so desperately needs to feel valid.

And that's why she "needs" TMA/TME, because she reasonably wants to talk about the experiences of people who share her category but doesn't want to identify as anything that references what those experiences fucking are (e.g. having been assigned male at birth). And again, that's FINE. I GET THAT. THAT'S UNDERSTANDABLE. I CAN SEE HOW THAT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. But that doesn't mean TMA/TME doesn't also have issues and I'm sorry if she's having a hard time coming up with something else because it's difficult to navigate the inherent paradox of wanting to associate with something that unfortunately makes her feel bad to associate with it, but she needs to pick something else, and not say "weh the TMEs are making us change our language" as though (a) transradfems aren't telling trans men what language they can use for themselves and (b) it's impossible to come up with terms that don't explicitly make claims about the experiences of others and 100% defines them by suffering less.

And isn't it strange how other transradfems are insisting they have to call themselves CAMAB and CAFAB, but THEY aren't clinging to AGAB language? Weird, right? I mean there is a group of people insistently arguing that it is simply paramount that we use AGAB language, but they're perisex trans women stealing it from intersex people so I guess it's fine?

But I don't CARE. I don't like her and I don't want to look at her stupid blog and I sure as fuck don't want to report on it. I just wish she'd stop talking about me. I literally just want her to stop block evading me and telling people my identity revolves around wanting to suck up to TERFs*. I do not talk about her except when she talks about me. AND I'M STILL NOT EVEN NAMING HER.

When she complained about me screenshotting her posts, I deleted them. They got zero notes. Her screenshots of me have hundreds and she keeps taking them because she's fucking obsessed because she can't feel like a girl if someone else identifies a little differently than she does. I don't even screenshot other people if they have me blocked but I see other people debating their takes, I make a post that references no one with unspecified prompting. And I've never done even done that with her, not only because she keeps baselessly accusing me of harassment, but because she infuriates me on a level where I just sincerely do not like seeing her fucking content in any way for any reason.

God I fucking hate radfems.

*which she happily admits to knowing is a lie but is like "yeah well I say she's mean so I'm going to keep deliberately fabricating falsehoods about her"

Thank you. <3

I have enlightened another soul!

If you asked these people, ten times out of ten they would say detransition and rape are the worst things that can possibly happen to someone and murder is no comparison, but they'll see trans men talking about their sexual abuse to be like "wow so lucky you guys just have to LARP The Handmaid's Tale, but we get KILLED."

And it's like. Okay. But fuck off, though? It's fine to personally see murder as worse and to grieve more over that, ig, it's like, whatever, but to openly state that it's a PRIVILEGE to be raped and detransitioned makes my brain melt. It's like they are physically incapable of not putting down other trans people. It is the one single area of activism they engage in. That is the war they are waging. They don't give a fuck about trans rights because they live in privileged areas with supportive families. Their battle is with the TME trans people on social media.

lolllll

"I hate how misogynistic Velvet is, she's everyone's cumrag"

^actual thing actually said and believed by the TMA/TME tankies

Before anyone accuses this anon of saying transradfems are engaging in male behavior or whatever, I'll note as I always have that they're just as sexually predatory and entitled to the bodies of others as TERFs are. That is the actual comparison being made. The worst trans women are identical to the worst cis women. Diversity win.

[deviantartdramahub]

Status by EvieJulia on DeviantArt

Evie: "And what would "my" other account be? Because last time I checked, your lot accused me of being another user on here a few times, which was debunked, and you also did the same thing to the user you accused me of being and accused them of being someone else. So how does that work, exactly?"

My lot? We can all freely speak our minds without any restrictions in between. I don't own or use them, just like they don't use or own me in any way. If we say things about you or the people around you based on DeviantArtDramaNow actions, it's because we have real evidence that hasn't been edited or tampered with in any way unlike yours. We use real evidence to support our claims and accusations, again, unlike you!

Evie: "Yeah, selfies of me are MY property, nobody else's. If another person uses someone else's property without consent, that is in fact called theft, which is illegal. But I wouldn't expect you to know that. If you left your phone outside and I took it and used it, does that make it right?"

You fail to understand my point. You uploaded them to a website that isn't well known for keeping it's member's or their uploads safe, or protected at all. You can still go to DeviantArt and right click, and "save picture as" without the person who uploaded it knowing. Now. Because I've said that, does that make me the "bad guy" here? No of course not. I know you can do that, because I do my research before anything I post or say, just like when you claimed we were stalking you when in reality, you've got such a big gob, you legitly give us the info without even knowing it. But again, using dumb logic like you always do, you decided to blame us because you dislike us, not that we did anything wrong.

Evie: "Again, more bullshit, seeing as DA literally has that feature built into it"

Eh, actually no. The fact that you pointed out her name in the ever growing list of people checking out your page is not proof in any means, Evie, for fuck sake try to take your head out of your own ass for a minute and actually read what I'm saying, will you? IF that was recent then her name would have been crossed out, however, as you can clearly see her name is not crossed out which means she wasn't one of the many vistiors to your page in recent times.

Evie: "I'm not even a part of that blog, as I've already stated previously. I posted the threats you guys sent on that blog, along with evidence. Show me where I ever made up a story or accusation that wasn't backed up with evidence. I'll wait."

Now that is bullshit, again, yes you are we know you are because as you continue to state on the next line: "I posted the threats you guys sent on that blog, along with evidence." What I want to know is what evidence, you have none. You made your claims up and fabricated them to a point where it seemed like it was impossable to fake them in the first place, but we know their fake claims, as I already said previously, you do this shit to us and our welcoming blog, because you don't like us, not that we did anything wrong!

Evie: "Oh and you even accused me of being the mod of that blog too, which was also found to be false."

False? When you just said above you posted the "threats" we were meant to be sending to you? Also, we know who Mod-S is, so don't beat yourself up too much about it, doll face.

Evie: "Your gang don't alter screenshots? Again, more bullshit. Max and the one who was formerly known as Kiyo did do that."

Don't mistake your terrorist cult blog for our more free to speak, and welcoming blog. Also, wrong again dumbass, that had NOTHING to do with us. Max was throwing a hissyfit because he got caught lying about us, like you, and went off on one. But please do continue to use that old edited screenshot of yours as "proof" it really makes our job easier to debunk your shite!

Evie: "Your numerous posts about me would say otherwise. Also, what was I caught doing, exactly? Care to clarify?"

Still looking at your blog? I mean, sure it must be hard for you to tell the diffrences between, you're fake shite, and our proven leglit evidence. Must be because of the drugs you keep taken, anyway. The countless posts about us? And other users on DA... ha, Evie just shut the fuck up and get over it, you lost. There is nothing you can say or do that will ever, turn the tables... now do us all a favour and go fuck yourself skank!

You have been once again: DEBUNKED BITCH!

She will need to clarify herself, her claims there, here, and here practically debunk themselves in the process of implying opposite things. It's not comfortable to watch.

[crimsonxe]

And you're proving my point in that you immediately go to "fanatical" when anyone doesn't go along with your bullshit. Basically all of rw/de, HTDM, and shitdom are thin-skinned know-nothing little bitches that can't stand having anyone do an "well actually" against them. How about instead of throwing that term around or whining actually trying to make a substantive point that isn't torn apart by canon and facts. Oh and ftr I'm not the recruitment type that's out here trying to persuade people to watching the show, I'm the one that comes in in place of those people to give shoulder-checks to shitheads and assholes who want to run their mouths off; then cower behind "its my opinion".

HTDM, shitdom, rw/de, etc all blend together for me. So I hope you don't actually expect me to remember specifically you.

a) Cool, still doesn't change anything I said as there's a lot of things within it. Funny how you chose to latch specifically onto Bees, almost like you're trying to not go into the rest of things. Also didn't provide a shred of anything of what you were getting at.

b) To start with your bitch ass doesn't get to tell me who I call what and based on what criteria. I see a bigot I'm calling them a bigot and your ass can fuck all the way off in trying to say I can't. Now moving on from that, what I did was present the ones I've y'know ACTUALLY RUN INTO AND SEEN. Every.single.bit.of.it. If it waddles like duck, quacks like a duck, has feathers of a duck, then its 99% chance a duck. Spouting homophobic dogwhistles, right-wing rhetoric, sexist bullshit, etc = the person is 99% chance a bigot.

c) Um no I didn't, but once again proving mine in your having a lack of being able to comprehend things. Um no, any remaining things can be handled as a couple and they're already healthy dumbass.

d) No, I really didn't actually. But undoubtedly you're doing the exact thing that the others like your ass do. Ignoring and trying to dismiss away anything against what you're saying not by actually proving anything via facts or canon; but MORE whining cause someone isn't just going along with your bullshit.

Cool, still don't remember you.

ROFL, "crazy fanatic" oh yes cause I know my shit, can argue my shit, prove my shit, and don't roll over for shitheads. Also I call a bigot a bigot; an incel an incel; a sexist a sexist; and in many cases all of them being the same type.

ROFL, dumbass your sorry pathetic ass's time is about worth a spec of fly shit.

Cool, doesn't really do anything except clutter the text; but once again your shit-for-brains type would rather that cause you sure as hell can't prove shit.

Cool, never said I was special in general or in regards to being LGBT+; what I did say however was put that experience card on the table in being able to call a shitlord's bullshit on it.

Shithead a) read the fucking shit said to your dumbass "who Monty's own twitter posts" not putting words in his mouth, but referencing posts HE MADE which is the exact OPPOSITE; b) do some goddamn research cause those screenshots of his tweets aren't fucking hidden and also aren't subtle; c) absolutely go fuck your disgusting bitch ass for even thinking you could try to step up on this front; and d) congrats on once again showing that your type don't comprehend shit and yet run your bitch ass mouths off like you do and expect others to just allow it. Tried your best at stepping up and instead managed to trip and fall on your damn face and not a damn bit of anything to back your shit up either.

It's not that every person 'outside of the fandom' that calls the show 'trash' vehemently hates RWBY. Yes, some do hate it for no reason besides hopping on the hate-train to shitsville for the lols, but from my time on r/RWBYcritics I've seen a lot of people hate that the show was such a let down with many elements shoe-horned in or concepts forgotten about in favor of pandering. A lot of people who say the show is trash is because they were disappointed in the way the show went.

Yet, one big reason people outside RWBY hate the show is because they hate the radicals in the FNDM. I've seen threads on RWBYcritics of people being lynched from being in the fandom because they had a different opinion from the rest. Like, you can't even be critical about Yang and Blake's relationship without immediately being dubbed 'homophobic' by most FNDM members.

You can say that the people calling RWBY trash is why the show failed but only if you can take the fact that the fanatical fans are also why the show failed.

[isa-ghost]

Anything That Might Be Something Recently

Sean has been on/off doing stuff that’s been making people jump. Personally I’ve been 100% doubting. So I haven’t been reacting to anything or documenting much.

But today, December 6th 2021, he’s dropped some glitches that are jarring my hope despite me being mildly salted I finally accepted the end of canon ego content recently only for this to happen.

According to the scraps I’ve ACTUALLY saved to my theory blog (@isas-theory-wall), he could have been hinting this would happen since as long ago as October 26th based off when I reblogged this post to my theory wall.

Or even more insane, if this TikTok means anything at all (I doubt it does though), he could’ve been hinting about an Anti return since August 12th, according to the date of that reblog to my theory blog.

Other recent things that have made people jump:

The Error 54 video. Here’s a post TLDRing what happened that may have been suspicious in the video.

There have been tiny glitches in videos here and there, namely in Error 54 and the two videos screenshotted below.

Changing the thumbnails of these two videos, the originals in which have been posted somewhere on Tumblr:

Thumbnail changes were something Sean was caught doing in the past during Mayhem 2018, possibly before and after that too.

The original thumbnail of the Scariest Videos OTI video was Sean’s face + the creepy big-eyed person from one of the videos he watched.

Here’s the original thumbnail of Bloodwash. Black eyes and camera closeups are a CLASSIC Anti tease trait:

Today’s glitches. Here is a post of individual glitches that were dropped in today’s video’s intro. Here’s a gifset of the glitches.

Analyzing the clip, notice how he drops limp to the floor like a puppet who’s strings are cut.

He posted these glitches on Insta too, which he NEVER does unless it means something, usually.

Thankmas is on the horizon. If I’m not mistaken, it takes place in just under a week, December 11th. We’ve already raised over $100k as of today. He could easily “reward” us for that with a taste of Anti coming back, if he didn’t originally plan to bring Anti around for the stream in the first place.

Thankmas means there could be an Overnight Watch 2 for all we know, and as many are hoping. After all, December 15th will mark ONW’s 4 year anniversary.

I THINK that covers everything that may mean anything ego-related recently.

I still don’t have the highest hopes ever, but I’m absolutely clinging to today’s beautiful intro nonetheless. I’m clutching the possible meaning behind him posting it to Insta to my chest, that HAS to mean it means something. Right? He never posts stuff there like that otherwise.

If this is a tease to make people tune into the stream thinking we’re going to get something, I’m gonna be absolutely shattered. I’ll never be betrayed so viscerally again. I had JUST accepted it was all done, not coming back. Sean I am formally Begging you to be up to something. Breathe life into our beloved stabby green dumbass. I miss him. Even if its just for Thankmas.

I... never thought I would make any kind of notes post like this for this kind of reason again. I missed it a lot. It feels nice to write, even if it ends up being for nothing, I guess.

Welcome back to the fires, guys <3

[cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc]

One more time

Summary: Alex regrets ever saying yes. All he wants is a second chance.

Trigger warning: Mentions of cheating, mentions of sex, swearing, angst

Author's note: my first piece off hiatus !! - you're a twitch streamer in this fic but it won't come up too much :) hope u like it <3

Based on: Break My Heart Again - FINNEAS

you sigh. your ex-boyfriend called again. you've been ignoring your phone for 5 minutes now. was he really this desperate?

you pick up your phone and slide the green button.

"what do you want, alex?"

"___, you picked up!"

he sounded extremely relieved, like he needs you to breathe.

"i did, now what do you want?"

alex sighed and leaned on a wall in his bedroom.

"can i come over? there's some stuff i still need to pick up."

you suck in a breath sharply. the air is thick and tense.

"no."

you clench the phone you were holding and bit your lip.

"i don't want to see you right now."

alex closed his eyes and pushed himself off the wall.

"i understand, you need time."

there was silence for a moment. neither of you wanted to say anything.

"if you want to come over that bad you can get your things tomorrow morning."

"sounds good. i'll be there around 11, okay?"

"fine."

"good-"

you ended the call.

"-bye..."

alex let his arm drop beside him. his eyes were watering, but he wiped it away with the sleeve of his hoodie.

it's his fault, he knew. but why is he still so upset? he shouldn't feel like this - it's is his own doing, after all.

~

you open the door to your home. alex was standing on the porch with a few empty bags in hand. the morning sun blinded you slightly, making you squint at the man in front of you.

"hi ___."

"hello, alex. all your belongings are on the couch.

"great, thank you."

~

he looks over as he's folding a shirt.

"what are you looking at?"

you say without looking away from your laptop.

his face was getting red slightly from embarrassment.

"nothing, you seem busy."

alex directed his eyes back to the clothes in front of him.

"otherwise you would've said something about me."

alex snickered slightly, trying to lighten the mood.

you sigh, holding your face in one of your hands.

don't say it. ___, keep it in. there's no point in fighting him. ___-

"if i wanted to make a comment it'd be about the fact you can't keep your dick in your pants."

god damn it, why did you do that?

he fell quiet. you hated his guts, but even you felt kind of bad for being so blunt with it.

a part of you still loved him. his loud, yet charming laugh. his sweet kisses. his adorable clinginess. his blushing face when you teased him.

you shake your head, trying to physically get rid of your pity for him. he doesn't love you anymore. he shouldn't, and neither should you.

~

after filling the bags with alex's belongings he stood up and wiped his forehead. you waver from your work and look him up and down.

"you done?"

you asked him. he turned around and gave you a weak smile.

"yeah, i think so."

"good, you know the way out."

you turn back to your computer.

"___, wait. can i ask you something?"

you make eye contact with him, fully aware it makes him nervous.

"what do you want?"

alex took a quick breath.

"can we talk sometime?"

you look at him like he spoke an alien tongue.

"why the hell would i?"

"i want to talk about what happened between us. i hate that our relationship is so sour."

he set a step forward.

"i just want this to end peaceful - or at least neutral."

"why the fuck would i want to be peaceful with you of all people?"

"i hate ending things on the wrong foot, you know that."

alex stands his ground, making you livid.

"then we make up, and then what? you'll just break my heart again!"

you stand up, simultaneously pushing the chair away with your legs.

"then i can lay awake and think about why i even let you inside my house again in the first place?!"

if looks could kill, alex would be on the floor.

"fine. if you don't want to, then i guess everything will just stay the way it is."

alex turned around and grabbed his bags. there's no way he's getting through to you right now.

"oh, so now it's my fault?"

you slam your laptop and walk away from the table.

"well, i'm so sorry for being angry at you for cheating on me!"

you don't hold your anger in anymore, he crossed the line.

"i never said that, ___!"

alex yelled to match your energy.

you took a step back. the audacity to yell at you in your house.

"out. now."

alex grabbed the second bag of clothes and without a word walked to the front door.

"goodbye, ___."

alex pushes the door open and steps outside. you go after him but stop at the doorstep.

"fuck you!" you sob out. you grab the doorknob and slam the door shut.

your knees slowly got weaker and you sit against the front door, shutting your eyes.

~

it's been a month since you've seen alex. you've blocked him on everything since then.

you were doing a q&a on your twitch channel and everything was going well. chat was filled with questions and you answered the one's you could.

your thoughts were somewhere else, though.

you still miss him, you really did. alex used to watch your streams all the time. he sent you donations with cheesy pick-up lines, he called you during streams to make fun of you for dying in a game or just to chat while he's bored.

but that didn't happen anymore.

you realize you haven't said anything in a while and you apologize. your chat was spamming purple hearts and 'are you okay?'

"ah, sorry everyone, i'm still tired from yesterday. i think i'm going to end the stream for today, thank you all for coming!"

after saying goodbye you turn off your computer.

why are you still so obsessed over him?! he cheated on you! he even tried to cover it up with a bullshit story about "not being the first to kiss her," and "she forced me to," like someone would believe a lie like that.

yet, you still love him. something inside you wants to believe him, like he really was telling the truth.

~

the next morning you open twitter and scroll for a bit. you made a tweet earlier in which you stated you weren't going to stream today.

you looked at the trending topics and saw your name in bold letters. you clicked on it and read the first tweet that popped up.

'i really hope ___ is doing better, they looked so sad on stream :('

an image was attached to it - a screenshot from the stream you did yesterday where you were mindlessly staring at your computer screen.

you sighed. at least they're not thinking too deep about this.

you scroll further down, replying and liking a couple tweets saying you were alright, thanking them or cracking a joke. this should keep them off your back for a while.

after scrolling for a bit one tweet catches your eye. you clutch your phone as you read the comment.

'kinda obvious they miss quackity :/ it's a good cover-up story tho '

~

alex was staring at his ceiling. he'd seen the tweets about you - about him.

he hates this feeling. he hates the fact that he knows what you're thinking. he hates that he knows it's his fault. he didn't mean to. he didn't.

"come on, alex. you know you want it." the woman said.

"i told you, no! i have a partner!" alex pushed her away for the second time, trying to find a way past the girl and out of this small alleyway. he should've never gone to this stupid bar.

"tch, whatever. but know you'll regret rejecting someone like me!" the girl pushed him to the brick wall and fixed her dress as she walked away.

alex fixed himself for a minute and walked past the bar and into his car. he pulled out his phone and shot you a quick text.

'hey bb i'll be over in a few :)'

'don't come back.'

you responded almost immediately. alex froze as he looked at the screen.

'wdym?'

'you know damn well why'

you sent him a photo of him next to the bar in the alley. the girl was all over him while her lips connected lustfully to his.

'it isn't what it looks like, i didn't start any of this!'

you don't respond. alex tries to send you another text when an error pops up.

'unable to send message. user has blocked you.'

~

you hover your hand over your phone's keyboard. you thought anbout alex's offer to talk, and decided that maybe it was a good idea after all. you couldn't get your mind off him, you thought that hopefully getting some closure could help.

but how were you going to ask him? 'hey, i know i blocked number like a month ago but can you to meet me at some random park? see you there!'

after typing and deleting multiple texts you eventually landed on a message.

'hey alex, i've been thinking about your offer to talk it out, and i wanted to ask if you're still up for it?'

you send it and immediately turn off your phone and place it on the coffeetable in front of you. you did it, finally. you fall back on your couch and pull your knees up to your face, waiting for a notification.

after a nailbiting five minutes a light emits from your phone. you pick it up and read the name calling you. 'alex'. you take a deep breath and answer the phone.

"hi alex."

"hey ___, it's been a while."

you sit up straight, preparing yourself for the conversation you're about to have.

'yeah, you can say that."

the atmosphere was a lot less tense than you expected. it was weirdly... comforting? you can hear alex's raspy voice through the phone. has he been crying?

"i saw your text, you wanted to meet?"

"yes, i did. i wanted to get some closure, at least."

alex chuckled, his laugh making you a little flustered. trying to brush it off, you laugh with him.

"what's so funny?" alex asked.

you rolled your eyes and smile.

"you, dumbass."

he gasps cartoonishly loud. his goofy personality is something you could never get enough of. maybe you were wrong after all.

"ok, but seriously, when do you want to meet?"

he gets back on topic. you snap out of your smile and remember why he called in the first place.

"right, right. i'm free this whole week, you can choose when."

after some planning and back and forth, you decide to meet at a small family-run café in the afternoon. coincidentally, it's the same place you two had your first date.

~

you settle down at a table on the terrace of the café, the sunday sun greeting you warmly. you were a little early, so you decided to think of some questions. it didn't take you long to come to a few, though. your main question was the photo. what was that all about?

as you were handed a menu you saw alex walking on the pavement fidgeting with his fingers.

"hey! sorry if i'm late, i took the bus instead of my car."

he took the seat parallel to yours and exhaled.

"oh no, you're right on time. i was just a little early."

the waitress gave alex a menu and disappeared into the establishment. you both decided to stay quiet before getting on topic. neither of you want to start the conversation.

after both ordering and having surface level conversation for a while silence fell. you both know why you're here, it feels off to talk like nothing ever happened.

"okay-"

"so-"

you both start at the same time. alex awkwardly chuckles while covering his mouth.

"you first."

alex proposes. you nod and like magic lose the somewhat content mood you had prior. you steadily breathe in and pull out your phone.

"so, first things first; my main goal is to get closure and an explanation - there's no point in lying to me."

alex hums in agreement. you could tell he was nervous, you knew him better than anyone. you tap on your screen a few times until you reach the photo that was sent to you.

"now, i want a clear answer. what happened that night?"

you ask him firmly as you put your phone on the table to reveal the image.

"that's my ex-girlfriend."

alex said. you raise an eyebrow - his ex? you've heard some wild things about her and her antics, which is exactly why alex broke up with her in the first place.

"she said she wanted to ask me something in private. my dumbass said yes, because i can't pick up on context clues, apparently."

you cross your arms and lean back on the chair.

"you got that right."

alex looks up from the photo and makes eye contact with you.

"long story short, she pushed me to the wall and kissed me. i tried to push her off but she didn't let me go. after shoving her, like, twice she finally got the hint and left."

~

"so she set you up?"

"she hasn't changed a bit since all those years."

you say with a hint of condescension. his explanation made sense, and from what you heard he wasn't lying. your gut told you to believe him, yet your mind had an itching feeling that there was something else.

"are you sure that's all?"

alex flinched slightly.

"y-yes, ___. i don't know what else to tell you."

you mess with your hair a bit, clearly conflicted. there was nothing else, you knew that. but your brain wouldn't let it go. you decided it's better if you just sleep on it.

"alright, then.-"

you grab your bag and stand up.

"-i think we're done here."

alex stays seated and looks up at you.

"yeah, i think so."

you pick the phone up that's laying on the table. you pull out your wallet and put a $5 bill under your teacup.

"goodbye, alex."

"wait!"

alex stands up and grabs your wrist, the gesture scaring you little bit.

"are you still mad at me?"

those eyes. they're so pretty, almost sparlking. you snap out of it when he lets go, just realizing how weird it is to grab someone's arm out of nowhere.

"sorry, my bad. i wasn't thinking."

alex scratches the back of his neck.

"i'm still deciding if i can trust you, but i appreciate you showing up, at least."

"that's enough for me."

alex smile at you, not trying to pry.

"goodbye, ___."

"goodbye, alex."

~

you heard the chirping of the birds outside your window and groan. why is it already morning? you sit up and grab your phone from the nightstand next to your bed, the phone reading 11:23 - tuesday - xx-xx-xxxx.

you sigh and fall back onto your bed. you've been thinking about alex for a few days now, still not getting him out of your head.

after going downstairs and eating some toast you pull out your phone again, the clock now reading 12:44. you look through your contacts and eventually land on his name.

you hover your hand over the green pixels while sitting down at the dining table. you swallow audibly and click the call button.

it goes once.

it goes twice.

"___?"

'Hey alex, i wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet up again?"

ty for reading <3

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taglist: @adoring-ghost @sakisaralazy @for-memories-sacrifice @ialexabsuniverse @shiyanchan @bioluminescentfrog @esylwen

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pairings: Sub! Kaminari Denki x Dom! FemReader

warnings: characters in this story are 18+, crackfic if you squint, sharing of risqué pictures, phone sex, mutual masturbation, porn with a plot basically  dom yn, sub denki

word count: 2.6k

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You stretched your arms behind your back. After a long day of paperwork, you were tired. You bent your fingers one by one until they released that satisfying ‘pop’ sound. Relaxing yourself in your chair you reach for your phone. You go through your social media, text a few friends and then your eyes fall onto boyfriend’s contacts.

Kaminari Denki or better know as Chargebolt. The aspiring Pro-Hero who  graduated from U.A and now the 23 year old was on his journey to becoming a memorable hero. But right now, he was on his bed resting. The blonde had been hit by an energy draining quirk which made it impossible to do athletic tasks. He was advised to rest and that’s what he had been doing for the past three days.

                                                 Dankie

You[23:31]:

You[23:31]: hOWS my FAV BOI DOINGGG ???????????????

Dankie[23:31]: >:(

Dankie[23:31]: traitor ass biTCH

You[23:32]: DENKI LMFAO I SAID I WAS SORRY SILHAKD

Dankie[23:32]: u didnt come visit me today:'''(

You[23:32]: yeah,sorry about that:(((if u werent so fucking clumsy i wouldnt be stuck doing extra hours of EXTRA paperwork>:(

Dankie[23:32]: gO GET THAT BAG Y/NNIE BBIE

Dankie[23:32]: n e ways

Dankie[23:32]: ei missed juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu

Dankie[23:32]:

You[23:32]: didnt kiri visit tho

Dankie[23:33]: he did but :( ur better

You[23:33]: dfjhskjfd ik i am

Dankie[23:33]: playing uno with him isnt that fun cuz that bitch ALWAYS wins , u lose all the time lmfao i leik winning against u

You[23:33]:

You[23:33]: hows your injury tho bb<3

Dankie[23:33]: idk im gonna go to work like day after tommorrow

Dankie[23:34]: n e ways

Dankie[23:34]: how was your day, beautiful

You[23:34]: terrible, old hag keeps piling me up with work.i dont get paid enough to deal with her shit

You[23:34]: i stg gonna murder her one day.

Dankie[23:34]: awwww my poor ynnie here have a picture of your beautiful boyfriend to light up ur day:)

You[23:35]: its 11 in the night denki

Dankie[23:35]: just let me have this one thing please,

Dankie[23:35]: I HAVE A PICTUER SOMEWHERE IN MY GALLERY WAIT lOOK

Dankie[23:35]: admit it,u ken not resist ur beautiful boyfriend

You were about to text out a sarcastic reply, your fingers hovering over the send key when you noticed Denki had sent a disappearing photo.

Dankie[23:35]: [image8166.jpeg]

You press your thumb over the button to view it in full size,

probably one of his dumbass selfies again

you thought to yourself.

“The fuck!?” you almost scream, eyes blown wide at the sight.

Before you knew it you were confronted by the sight of a dick, his hand wrapped around it resting against his abdomen, spurts of cum decorating the head of his cock and onto his flushed body.

It looked so inviting, so hard and sexy waiting to be played with. It turned you on.

You gulped as you took it all in.

In all honesty the sight made your mouth water, your tongue reaching out to wet you lips as your breathing quickened, your core heating with arousal. Your thoughts running wildly as you inspect the picture, fingers trembling ever so slightly as you work your fingers to quickly take a screenshot of the picture

Dankie[23:35]: u still there yn?

Dankie[23:35]: o shit.yn im so SORRY

Dankie[23:36]:SHIT SHIT IM SO SORRY YN I DIDNT MEAN TO MY FINGER SLIPPED FUCKFUCK IM SO SORRY I UNDERSTAND IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE

Oh Fuck!

Sucking his lips into his mouth, fear took over his senses as he realized that you were about to receive his nude out of nowhere.

nonononononono nO! This couldn't be happening. No!'

Denki quickly pressed the power off button at least eight times, hoping that would change something, but he knew very well it wouldn't. His entire face flamed with embarrassment.

He opened the chat again just to check if it actually sent. Maybe he still had the chance to delete it. He was met with disappointment, the air surrounding him growing heavier, your prolonged silence was making him freak out even more DAMMIT DENKI !!

Dankie[23:36]: Y/N please say soemthing please,

The dreaded 'typing' box appeared on the bottom of the screen, he mentally prepared himself for rejection. Maybe if you ask about it, he could just pretend he didn’t know what you were talking about. Fuck, how did he manage to fuck up this bad?Just then, the sound of his notification stirred him from his thoughts, indicating a reply from you. He reached for the phone,

You[23:37]: that’s a pretty dick, denki

You[23:37]: mommy would love to play with it.

OH My God. Denki internally screamed. He did not know what he was expecting. Granted you both had started going out just recently, a slip up like that was bound to set you off. He expected you being  reluctant about the situation and brushing it of.

He thought of what he should reply and stared texting. His fingers smashed against the keyboard as butterflies danced in his stomach. He could feel himself get hard.

Dankie[23:37]: you’re making me horny, mommy

You[23:37]: fuck, you’re such a naughty boy

You[23:37]: tell me how badly you want me.

Dankie[23:38]: please, my dick is so hard for you right now. I can’t think straight.

Denki’s heart beat quickens whilst he wait for you to reply. His hand slips down his sweats as he starts palming his cock through the cotton of his sweats.

You[23:38]: you like it when mommy talks to you like this, don’t you babyboy?

Dankie[23:38]: yes i do. please don’t stop

You[23:38]: you think you can send these pictures and not face consequences?

You[23:38]: is this turning you on?

Dankie[23:38]: yes. goddamn.

It was a moment before he responded and when he did, he sent an image. Upon opening it, your throat dries out. You see the outline of his erection through his boxers you gulp again as your eyes feast on the main focus of the picture. It made your pussy throb. You couldn’t stop staring, not even when another loud 'ping' sounded through the room.

Dankie[23:39]: Oh God, please fuck me.

You[23:39]: are you teasing me?

Dankie[23:39]: ...what if I am?

Dankie[23:39]: y/n i want you so bad. are you alone right now?

You[23:39]: yes i am.

You[23:39]: such a little slut, aren’t you?

Dankie[23:39]: yes, only for you

Dankie[23:40]: God, you're good at this.

His fingers were pressing the ‘call’ button before he processed his move, thick arousal mixed with frustration clouded his thoughts. His hand palming himself through his boxers and his leg bouncing up and down in anticipation as his phone rang for you.

Your phone lit up with an incoming call.

“Hey, babyboy,” you spoke as soon as he picked up, teasing him. Your voice sultry and low making Denki gulp. The dirty talk was really getting him going.

“Just hearing my voice has gotten you so bothered, huh?” you smirk, feeling your nipples hardening and poking through the fabric of your work shirt

“I'm so lonely and needy right now-”  He shyly admitted, “I need you so bad.” finding himself blush bashfully for you. Flattered and embarrassed at his blunt confession, but still desperate for you. He could hear your breathing on the other side of the phone, it was quick, excited. You heard him take in a deep breath; you could almost see the pink painting his cheeks.

“You’ve been a naughty boy, sending me pictures like that. Tell me when did you take it? Who were you thinking of when you touched yourself?” you rasp into the phone making him gasp.

God, this was like a dream

“It was for you! Everything, You!” He sounded desperate, clinging to release as his member throbbed harder. Biting down on his lower lip, inching to hear your commanding voice over the static.

“Is that so? Well, I am flattered.” Denki smiled to himself hearing the praise. “But, do you seriously think you should be allowed to cum? After all, you touched yourself like a shameless whore. Not to mention, without my permission?”

Denki’s smile fell as he started mumbling apologizes into the phone. He promised he’d never do anything like that ever again. Please, just let him cum.

“You heard me,” You taunted, “Bad boys don’t deserve mommy’s help.” you say, your voice faking disinterest. “Please.”  he begged pathetically. Trying to convince you to help him out.

“Please help me cum.”

“Really?” You scoff, a teasing smirk appearing on your lips. “You seem to be doing just fine on your own.” apologies come rushing over the phone,  “No, no, please! I’ll be good. I’ll be a good boy! I’ll do anything!” he pants, biting the corner of his lip as his hand hovered over his erect shaft. “P-Please, Mommy!’’

You bit back a whine as you clench your thighs together “Okay,” you start, voice as smooth as silk. “Why don’t you reach down and touch yourself for me? Make yourself feel good,”

Denki relishes as hearing your command. He quickly puts the caller on speaker and places it on the stool next to his bed. His fingers pull his sweats down to his thigh, his boxers soon following. His hard cock rest against his stomach, the tip flushed and angry; pre-cum leaking from the slit. His right hand firmly grasp it while his left reaches for his phone.

He moans your name as he pumps his cock using the pre-cum as lube, he hisses and groans lost in utopia until he hears your voice again. “You don’t get to cum until I tell you to.” you smirk at him failing to stifle his whimpers, clenching his eyes shut as he took a deep, steadying breath before he responding. “Okay, Mommy.” he blushes, submitting himself to you.

Taking the base of his length into his hand, putting the phone closer to his mouth so you could hear his heavy breathing as he traced a finger along the vein decorating his shaft, he moans softly feeling sparks of pleasure erupting throughout his body. Moving his thumb to his drenched tip, vigorously rubbing himself the way you had instructed him to — the action making him crazy, Denki didn't even try to hold back the moans erupting from his mouth as he fucked his hand, wishing it was you.

“You sound so good jerking off to Mommy’s voice.”

“Feels good, huh, babyboy?” you ask. He hums nodding his head. “Feels so damn good.” His hand leaves his dick, coming up to his mouth and spitting on it. Using spit as lube as he began to rub himself, hips bucking against his hand; whimpering your name as his back arches up slightly, the pre-cum and spit making it easier to move his hand quicker moaning and hearing you doing the same. He could hear your breathing get heavier,the anticipation of you masturbating too made his even harder if that were possible.

“There’s a good little slut.” you say with a normal, leveled voice while he struggled on the other side of the phone. You listen to him jerk off, pumping his shaft and moaning out your name. Hearing him pump his cock up and down, you pictured his sitting on his bed, flushed face hand stroking his cock cum oozing out of his slit. Maybe you’ll ask him to lick it up later.

“Are you wet, Mommy?” His voice is soft followed by heavy breathing. “So wet. You have no idea.” your raspy voice filled the empty room.

“I want to taste your pussy, Y/N.” he moaned into the phone. You slip your hand down over your clothed cunt, rubbing against your swollen clit. “Is that so, Denki? Wouldn't you like that? Me sitting on your face? You can eat all you want.”

“God, your pussy sounds so good.” Denki moaned as you adjust the phone closer. “Oh fuck, Denki!" you moan as you sunk down onto your fingers. The scent of sweat and lust lingered through his nose, he scrunched his eyes shut and his head pressed back into his pillow. His mouth was gape open, breathing heavily as he moaned loudly into the phone. “Shit. Mommy." he cursed.

“Mommy, I need your pussy.” you hear him beg, “W-wanna feel it a-around me. Milking my cock s-so good, wanna f-fuck you until you scream,” he speaks between choked moans. You wonder how he’s gotten so bold. “I would fuck your tight pussy so good.” you don’t doubt him at all.

Your fingers rub against your velvety walls, your hips bucking into your hand as you rolled your clit swiftly between your nimble fingers. “I’m gonna fuck you so good once i get my hands on you, babyboy.”

Speeding up his pace, imaging your face Denki let out a growl. Imagining you hovering over his pinned body as you whispered the most dirty words into his ear while pleasuring him. “F-fuck, Y/N.” he whispered, dropping his head back against the pillows as his eyes squeezed shut, his back arching wildly. There was no way he was going to last much longer.

The familiar feeling soon washed over you, your pussy pulsing and clenching around nothing with each delicious rub of your fingers against your clit. Your heart beat fast, your body tingling from the sensation it gave you. Your nether regions throbbing in pleasure. You almost fell, your legs quivering going limp

His stomach was clenching and he knew he was going to cum any second now “Please keep talking. Just a little more, please,” he begged breathlessly, continuing his thrusts for just a little while longer to get over the edge and you did just that.

“I- I’m so close mommy. Can I c-cum?” He bits his lower lip, trying to control his breathing. “Since you've been such a good boy. You can cum, baby.” you said breathlessly.

“Thank you so much, Mommy.”

“I want to hear you while you cum, baby. I want you to feel good, I want to feel good with you.” you choke out.

You wait patiently for his response but it doesn't come. After seconds of silence, you pulls your device away from your ear only to be greeted by the dark screen.

“Oh. He hung up?” you murmur out loud, a bit sad but you decide on not to dwell on it as you slip the phone back into your pocket, figuring his battery might have given up on him. After minutes you hear you phone start buzzing.

Dankie[01:20]: Baby NO. I’M SO SORRY MY PHONE DIED

Dankie[01:20]: Y/N PLEASE SOME BACK I DIDN’T MEAN TOOO

Dankie[01:20]: Y/N PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE COME BAC

You[01:21]: im here!

Dankie[01:21]: i m so sorry my phone died

You[01:22]: did you cum?

Denki feels his cheeks heat up again.

Dankie[01:23]:

A few moments later. A video clip appeared in the chat, you opened it much too quickly.

In the video, Denki had his hand wrapped around his shaft while his other hand was palming over his balls. He pumped himself, “I’m gonna come for you, Mommy.” It appeared he had situated the phone so his entire body was captured by the camera. Your eyes traveled down to his toned body, drinking the sight in. Moan escaped his parted lips, opening his eyes and staring at the camera with playful eyes. His jaw hangs open as he finally releases all he had over his stomach, chanting a string of your name and curses.

“Fuck, I really wish you were here now.” You heard him hiss “Really wish this was your mouth instead of my hand.” he whispered, his agile fingers move swiftly as he collected the white substance and then moving his hand upto his lips. Parting his lips swirling his tongue around his digits, sucking off the creamy substance and moaning louder for you. His eyes darkened with lust and hunger as he swallowed down every last drop, moaning at the taste of his warm cum causing your breath to hitch as much as he let out a series of seductive,soft pants.

“Why don't you come here and ride my cock?”

Your walls tighten around nothing and you immediately got up, your chest heaving as you attempted to catch your breath.

You[01:43]:im coming over. gonna make sure you end up in the hospital for weeks after i'm done with you kaminari denki.

Dankie[01:44]: osiht (｡+･｀ω･´ )

Dankie[01:45]:

@mylovelyreblogs  @amahzing004 @thoughtfulpandazine2 @the-one-who-ate-god @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love @villain-hotline @dabiisdaddy @annimalq @reader-stash @rcjackie @leeladebris @expn @vocaloidinlove @edgycactus @neon-tries-writing @shiggydiggydicked​ @yandereguysgalsandmonsterpals @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa​ @chxrryvibes​ @yanderesmemory @purple-rabanito @amajikistan99​@the-grimm-writer​ @n4dhii​ @imkumichan​  @akura-ous-lady​ @dabicakes​ @leeknowstoomuch​ @nereida19​ @sahrafinee​ @uwubba​@anime-girl-nikki​ @rekoii​ @badtimechara​ @peachyashell​ @weirdr-artiest​ @prince-zukohere​ @deliciousstar​ @murderfesto​  @mltcp​  @alunafort​  @mrsllawliet​  @babayaga67​ @supernaturaldreamergirl1130​  

[skateboardtotheheart]

Alex vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda

hello, everyone! i’ve been working on a fic titled “Alex vs The Homo Sapiens Agenda” for quite a long while, and i’m finally biting the bullet and posting the first chapter. this fic is based on the novel "Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda" by Becky Albertalli! it will be very closely based on the book, as well as some things from the movie "Love, Simon", and you may find dialogue or details that you recognize from either version of Becky Albertalli's story! i have no rights to the novel/movie or the JATP characters depicted in this fic. that said, there are a lot of details that are changed, and you'll be able to spot those really easily. this fic will be crossposted to my AO3 and can be located HERE. 

like i said, this fic has been a long time coming, and there is tons and tons i have planned for it. here on tumblr, i will be posting things like extra details, bonus content, and maybe some sneak previews! for now, let’s get into the fic!

SUMMARY: Alex Mercer is just like everyone else- only he has one huge ass secret. Nobody knows that he's gay, not even his closest friends and bandmates Luke, Reggie, and Julie. The only time he's ever mentioned it to someone, it was in an anonymous email chain with Ghost, another Los Feliz High School student. Alex can't risk coming out to anyone, but when his emails fall into the wrong hands, his secret is at risk of being thrust into a spotlight. Suddenly an already stressful junior year is all that more complicated as he juggles everyday drama, the school's annual band competition, blackmail, and trying not to lose his shot with the best guy he's ever met.

READ CHAPTER ONE BELOW THE CUT

Everything about this conversation is so out of the box of normal that I barely even register what's happening. Of course I'm the type of person who can't tell when this- something so crazy and awful and stressful and honest to God what the hell is happening- is going on. In my defense, Caleb Covington has never spoken to me before. I had no reason to assume that the first time he did, it would be to blackmail me.

We're taking a water break in the bleachers when Caleb saunters over. No greeting, no introduction- just words to send my entire junior year of high school spinning on its head.

"I read your email."

I swallow my water. "What?"

Caleb raises an eyebrow at me, and there's no other way to describe it but menacing. It's funny looking back on it all; I'd always heard Caleb was a really nice guy.

"I was in the library. And I read your email."

"You read my email?"

"Not on purpose. You really should have logged out of Gmail."

There's nothing I can do but stare at him, dumbfounded. What in the name of David Bowie is happening right now?

Caleb, thankfully, stops towering over me and takes a seat in the bleachers, a foot or so away. To anyone else, it might look like we're friends. To me, it feels like I can't breathe.

"Why the fake name?" Caleb asks, and my entire soul screams a wish that he would stop being so casual about this. 

I want to tell him that the point of a fake name is to keep people like Caleb Covington from knowing my secret. Way to freaking go, Alex. He must have seen me sitting at the computer like the monumental dumbass I am.

"Would it interest you to know my cousin is gay?"

"Um. No, Caleb. It really wouldn't."

He still has his eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. If I focus hard enough- kind of impossible right now- I can picture Luke punching it right off his face.

"What do you want Caleb?"

This is the longest five minute water break of my life. 

"Look, Mercer, I don't have a problem with it. It's not a big deal."

Yes, it really is. It's a huge monster of a deal. This is the biggest disaster since Luke slammed his fingers in a door and couldn't play his guitar. 

"But. . ." Caleb drags out, and I can feel my leg bouncing quicker by the second. "It's pretty clear to me that you'd rather keep it all hush, hush."

I mean. Yeah. Kind of. The coming out thing doesn't scare me that much. Except it does. Because if people know then my parents will know and if my parents know then my whole family will know and if my whole family knows then I've become like a living, gay, everyone-finds-out version of If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, and I'd rather die than have that happen. So maybe the coming out thing does scare me. But the biggest problem if people found out? 

Ghost.

I have absolutely no idea what it would mean for Ghost if Caleb was going to tell anyone. The thing about Ghost is he's a pretty private person. I bet he wouldn't forget to log out of his email so people like Caleb Covington wouldn't see it. I bet there's a good chance he'll never forgive me if he finds out about this. So really, I have absolutely no freaking clue what would happen to Ghost- to us.

And I'm still sitting in these stupid gym bleachers, the pink hydroflask Reggie bought me limp in my hand, desperately wishing Carrie would call an end to this godforsaken water break. I can't believe I'm having this conversation with Caleb right now. Why couldn't anyone else have logged into Gmail after me? Why was I so impatient to see if Ghost had emailed me back that I used the freaking school computers? Why did this stupid school insist on blocking the wireless so I had had no choice but to use the school computers? But it had been one of those days where I couldn't even wait to get out of dance practice to check my phone in my car.

I'd emailed Ghost this morning, and it had been a pretty big email. I was desperate to know if he'd emailed back.

I must have been just staring at Caleb for a while because he cocked his head at me and said, "Don't worry, Mercer. I'm not going to show anyone."

I take a relieved breath. Then my hydroflask finally slips from my fingers as I freeze, and the sound echoes through the gym. I don't even look at the rest of the dancers when their laughs break out.

"Show anyone?" I ask. 

Caleb leans in a little bit, smirk wider on his face. I feel sick.

"Did you- oh my god, did you screenshot my emails?"

"Yes, see, I wanted to talk to you about that."

"You took a fucking screenshot?" I hiss out, thankful I'd put my stuff farther away from the rest of the dance team today.

Caleb has the audacity to roll his eyes. "I've heard you're in a band with-"

"What the fuck does that have to do with- Let's go back to how you screenshot my email."

"Or you can shut up and listen to what I have to say." 

Something about the way Caleb's gaze catches you, it's hard to do anything but what he says. Fuck.

"I believe we may be in a position to help each other out."

Jesus Christ, what 18 year old talks like this?

"Why the hell would I do anything for you?"

It's a stupid question, I realize as he stares at me calmly. Calmly. Like this isn't the end of my life. Whatever he wants right now, it'll be in exchange. I do this, and he doesn't broadcast my private emails with Ghost to the entire student body.

All this time and I really thought Caleb was supposed to be this nice guy. Fuck me.

"You're going to make me do whatever you want?"

Caleb tsk'd like the condescending bastard he clearly is. "Well, now. I'm not making you do anything."

"But if I don't help you, you'll what? Post my emails on the fucking tumblr?"

LosFelizSecrets. The bane of every Los Feliz student's existence. Ground zero for more gossip than anyone in their right mind knows what to do with. A school of almost 3,000 kids but if it's on the tumblr, most people know within a day. A complete and utter hellscape disguised as a blog.

When Caleb stays quiet, I speak again. "What do you want from me, Caleb?"

He sneers. 

"Music of the Night."

Once again, I'm stuck staring at him. Music of the Night? That's what this is about?

"Your band is signed up, as is mine. The HGC lost to Dirty Candy last year, and I will not lose again this year."

Music of the Night is this competition Los Feliz holds every year as part of the music program. At the end of the year, there's this huge concert held at the Orpheum theatre in Hollywood. At the beginning of the school year, anyone can sign up. Then each band has 4 months to perform at school events, outside gigs and parties, and whenever they have an opportunity, really. During winter break, the student body votes on who the headliner of the concert will be. Last year, the headliner was Dirty Candy. Because they won last year, they're out of the running this year and are in charge of organization and things for the concert. This year, I was hoping the headliner would be Julie and the Phantoms. My band. Caleb and his band HGC has entered the competition every year, and he's never won. He's a senior, and I know this will be his last chance. I also know who his biggest competition is. 

Us.

"So. . . what? You want me to sabotage my own band?"

I feel breathless and dizzy as I ask. Caleb just shrugs casually.

"Whatever you need to do. So long as it's my band that gets the votes. Like I said, I think we can help each other out. Think about it."

Caleb winks- he actually winks- and walks away. I stare dumbly after him. No way. No, I'm not doing this. I can live with being outed. Right? 

But my thoughts travel to Ghost. Because he's a part of this, too. He goes to Los Feliz, and he's my age, and he uses a fake name, and he's not out. 

Ghost isn't out, and Caleb has my emails.

Fuck.

----------

Any hope I have of forgetting about that stupid conversation clearly isn’t worth it. I have an hour before dinner, and right now I’m basically willing to do anything to avoid my family. Trying to talk to my parents is exhausting. You can’t just get away with telling them your day was good or bad. No, you have to ring out every excruciating little detail. Everything that happens in my or my siblings’ life, they want to know about it. In all honesty, I used to love telling them all that stuff. Now I can’t get away from them fast enough. Especially today. I’m barely in the house long enough to put my backpack in my room before I’m slipping out the back door and leaving again. 

I try to drown out my thoughts with Axl Rose screaming into my earbuds. But my mind is stuck on Ghost, emails, and Caleb freaking Covington. Caleb wants to win Music of the Night. I can’t exactly blame him for that. Everyone wants to win it. 

Except he’s blackmailing me. And by extension, he’s blackmailing Ghost. And that makes me want to hyperventilate a little bit. Maybe go scream somewhere. 

But Axl Rose is helping. The familiar route of walking to Luke’s is helping. We don’t get much of a fall in LA, but the air feels a little crisper in mid October, and I can already see the houses that are getting ready for Halloween. 

When I reach Luke’s house, I don’t even bother going through the front door. I just cut through his backyard and head through the backdoor right next to Luke’s bedroom. I hear them before I see them. Reggie’s laugh fills the air, paired with a frustrated groan from Luke. They’re sitting side by side on Luke’s bed, facing the small tv with some video game I’ve never seen on the screen. They look like they haven’t moved in hours. Luke pauses the game as soon as he sees me, waving, and I can’t help but smile a little bit. The guy won’t put down his guitar for you, but he’ll pause a video game or movie without a second thought. 

“Great, you’re here! Tell Luke he’s shit at this game and he should let me play Mario Kart.”

I roll my eyes, “Dance was great, Reg. Thanks for asking.”

Reggie sticks out his tongue, and I crack a smile. This is the most comfortable I’ve felt all afternoon. I throw myself into the beat up bean bag chair Luke keeps in his room.

“Luke, you’re shit at this game and Reggie wants to play Mario Kart.”

Luke gapes at me, a betrayed gleam in his eyes, but I just shrug. Luke grumbles a bit as he gets up to switch out the game, and Reggie whoops in victory. I let out a soft sigh. I think I needed this. The chaos of Reggie and Luke playing whatever game, the strange mix of leather, Axe, and his mom’s Hawaiian Breeze cleaner that makes Luke’s room smell awful and entirely wonderful at the same time, and the familiarity of Luke and Reggie. Everything just fits right when I’m with them. 

As Luke sets up the game, Reggie looks at me excitedly. “Alex, Luke hasn’t heard about le wedgie.”

I snort a little, “Ah, yes. Le wedgie. C’est une histoire touchante.”

I don’t know why Reggie bothered to wait for me to tell the story; he’s the far better storyteller between us. Maybe it’s just because I’m better at French. 

Luke stares at me, “English, please?”

Reggie and I thought we’d be fancy and take something fun like French for our required language credits. Luke decided to take something actually useful and learn sign language. This story is stupid, and my reenactment is stupid, but it feels kind of perfect. Like Caleb and secrets are all things of my imagination, and nothing exists but this bedroom and me, Luke, and Reggie. Benefits of having known these dorks since elementary school, I guess. 

About as they finish the second race in Mario Kart, Luke lets out a yawn. Reggie reacts so quickly I barely realize what he’s doing. He grabs a crumpled up Hershey’s Kiss wrapper from Luke’s nightstand and throws it into Luke’s mouth. Luke sees it just in time to clamp his mouth shut. Reggie sighs in defeat, but shrugs.

“Keep yawning, I’ll get you one of these times.”

“Why are you so tired?”

“Because I party real hard. All night, every night, baby,” Luke says, slamming Reggie’s bike with a green turtle shell. 

“Alone in your room with your guitar. Some party that is,” Reggie retaliated with a bomb thrown in Luke’s direction. 

As the race finishes Luke yawns again, and Reggie’s Kiss wrapper bounces off his cheek. 

“I just keep having these weird dreams,” he explains. 

I raise my eyebrows. “TMI, dude.”

“Not that kind of dream!” Luke tosses the wrappers at me, Reggie cackling beside him. 

Luke starts explaining his dream- something about every time he started playing his guitar his cord had magically unplugged itself from his amp- and Reggie and I just share a look. We were used to Luke being in his weird, feels-the-need-to-analyze-everything moods. But even after all these years, it was almost like a movie, watching Luke get so weirdly passionate about things- music and otherwise. It made me glad that Luke was a brother to me by everything but blood. Partly because if he wasn’t, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from falling for him. And I have a strict policy about not falling for straight guys.

To everyone but me and Reggie- immune to him after knowing pretty much every thought that’s ever gone through his head since elementary school- there’s this pull to Luke. Like he casts a spell that has everyone in a 10 mile radius tripping at his feet and each and every girl swooning. Poor Julie is not immune to the spell, it seems. Lucky for her though, Luke doesn’t seem immune to her either. 

It took barely a few weeks into the school year before I noticed Luke switching seats with Willie Meyers at lunch to increase the odds he’d end up right next to Julie. Then there’s that stupid, puppy-dog, love-sick look in his eyes that Luke gets every time he thinks Julie isn’t looking. And it’s not like Reggie and I haven’t put up with a pining Luke before, but everything seems a little different with Julie. It makes me think of Ghost. 

Would I look like that if I saw him in person? Would he look at me like that? 

If Caleb leaks my emails and Ghost hates me forever, I don’t think I’ll ever find out.

-----------

chapter one complete!

i'll let everyone know right now that i have no clear updating schedule for this fic; it's kind of hard to write and get down the way i want, so i'm not sure how long anything will take me. but it is summer break for me, so hopefully you'll all start seeing consistent posting of new chapters!

i hope you all liked this first chapter, or are at least intrigued to read some more. as i said in the starting notes, this will be cross posted to my AO3! Feel free to leave me a comment here if you would like, or head over there if you have any comments about the fic at any point! feel free to send me a message/ask on here if you have any questions or comments, too! my inbox is open any time <3

if anyone would like me to start a tag list, let me know and i’ll get that done right away!

this fanfic is definitely my baby, so i really hope you guys all like it as much as i do!

thanks <3

[losingmymindtonight]

Whump: Hostage

AN: Y’all I mean it when I say that this one is long. It’s over 11k. So, if you’d rather read it on the AO3, I’m linking it right here.

Just a little housekeeping before we proceed! This is set post-Endgame, but with a few tweaks to pieces that I didn’t like, because this is fanfiction and I can do that. For one, Tony’s alive. Steve did not go back to Peggy. Bruce is not... that weird Hulk/Bruce thing.

This is technically a continuation of my last bingo square, which was AU: TV/Movie! You don’t need to have read that for this to make sense, but it would definitely help! If you haven’t read that other fic, just know that May died sometime after Endgame and Tony adopted Peter.

There’s a little ‘bonus scene’ at the end of this, from Natasha’s POV. It’s my version of an end credit scene, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t even know why it’s there, but it is.

This boy is long, and some parts are edited a lot better than others. Did I mention that this thing is 11k yet? Because it is, and I think I’ve gone insane.

EDIT: I’m a dumbass and I forgot to mention that this one is based off of a West Wing episode, just like the last square. If you’re a West Wing fan and it feels familiar, that’s why!

WARNINGS: kidnapping, mentions of date-rape drugs (but no sexual assault, just a brief mention near the end, and not in reference to something that actually occurred), non-consensual drug use, a couple mentions of alcohol, lots and lots of ruminations on a missing persons case, discussions of death (I don’t think there’s anything too graphic, but it’s there).

--

“Suma cum laude from Columbia. Columbia, Rhodey. Did you know that their acceptance rate is 5.1%? That’s the second most selective college in the Ivy League.”

Rhodey didn’t look nearly as impressed as Tony thought was appropriate. He just took a sip from his whiskey, tone dripping with sarcasm. “So you’ve told me.”

“That’s more selective than MIT.” He gestured with his own glass, although his was filled with some of Morgan’s apple juice. “Their acceptance rate is 7.9%. That’s a 2.8% difference.”

“Yes, Tones. I, too, am capable of basic math. Even though I did graduate from MIT, which is obviously the inferior institution here.”

He glared. “Yeah, well, did you know that Peter graduated on a 4.0 GPA? You know how hard it is to graduate on a 4.0 GPA at an Ivy League school?”

“I don’t know. Probably about as hard as graduating on a 4.0 GPA at MIT. Which I did, by the way.”

“Are you ever gonna let that one go? I’m the visionary of a generation, but I got one B in an English class and my best friend does a mutiny.”

“Yeah, well, your son managed to make an A in English.”

“He did, didn’t he?” He grinned, still drunk on the memory of Peter in his cap and gown, leaning down so that Morgan could adjust the tassel. “I think he made a 99 in that course, too. He’s smarter than you and me, Rhodey. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

Rhodey held up a hand, stalling him. “I’m sorry, you remember the exact number?”

“Of course he remembers the number, Rhodey,” Pepper sighed, slumping down at Tony’s side with a glass of wine in her hand. “He used to pin the screenshots from Canvas up in his office.”

Used to? He thought, a little incredulous. He still had them there.

“Listen,” he griped, “there are worse crimes than a father being proud of his child. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Sure,” Rhodey said, not even trying to conceal his amusement. “By the way, I thought that his security detail did a good job of blending in today. If I didn’t personally know all of them, I wouldn’t’ve suspected a thing.”

Tony snorted. “Let me tell you something: when it’s your kid, you don’t want them to blend in. You want them carrying a sign that says, I’m carrying a loaded gun and the safety’s off.” He swirled a finger around the rim of his glass. “But, yeah. I think Peter even managed to forget about them for most of it, which was the goal.”

“His speech was lovely as well,” Pepper interjected. “Very polished. He’s grown up a lot.”

A dagger of nostalgia pierced through him. “Oh, don’t remind me. I swear that I was coaching him through his first awkward date just a couple of days ago. What the hell is he doing going off to California all alone? It’s ridiculous.”

Rhodey snorted. “Sorry, I don’t get it. Are you proud of him or are you trying to lock him in the house and never let him out? I’m just trying to make sure that we’re all on the same page here.”

A chime from Rhodey’s phone interrupted the conversation. The man glanced down at the screen, expression darkening at whatever it was that he found there, and then quickly excused himself.

Tony didn’t really think anything of it. Rhodey got a lot of calls and texts that weren’t pleasant. It came with the territory of being such a high-ranking Colonel in the military. Nobody on Earth would call that a relaxing job. Plus, he still flew the occasional mission as War Machine. Not every superhero was quite as ready to leap into retirement as Tony had been.

Minutes trickled past with Rhodey out of the room, and Tony and Pepper found themselves constantly circling back to their favorite topic: their kids. They (well, it was mostly him, but Pep joined in occasionally) reminisced and complained, in the pride-struck kind of way, about the bittersweet upheaval that the upcoming months would bring to their lives. It was nice. It was quiet. It was a taste of the peace that he’d fought for through all those years as Iron Man.

Isn't that the mission? Isn't that why we fight? So we can end the fight? So we get to go home?

He’d ended the fight, and the endgame had been so much better than he could’ve ever imagined. When he’d said that to Steve, he hadn’t even had a home. His home had been the Avengers, even if he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself. But after Thanos, after hanging up the armor and looking into a future, a real future, he’d built a home. He’d built a home out of a dozen scattered bricks: the scarred shambles of his and Pepper’s baggage-laden love affair, a pregnancy test that was never meant to be positive, and a frightened, orphaned teenager with nowhere left to go. He’d taken those foundations, and he’d built and built and built until they were sheltered. Until they were home.

The pain of letting Peter leave, of releasing his grip and watching him run off to California to be his own person, to build his own home, his own life, was such a new, privileged kind of pain. It hurt, but in a gentle way. In the way that good things sometimes ached in the beginning, before they settled into a normalcy.

Tony had just decided that he’d be happy to live through a hundred moments of Peter graduating college (just so long as he could feel this proud with each repetition) when Rhodey surged back into the room, chest heaving.

He knew, somehow. He knew from the moment he saw the look on his best friend’s face. He knew even before Happy, who was not supposed to be here, who was supposed to be with Peter at some graduation party in the city, came barreling in at his heels. He knew.

Maybe it was a father’s intuition, maybe it was just paranoia, but he knew, and that knowing was the absolute worst thing in the world.

Everything froze.

“Rhodey?” He set his glass down on the coffee table, half-rose from the couch, wanting to ask but desperately not wanting to hear the answer that came after the asking. “What’s-”

“Tony, it’s Peter.”

--

The world had broken into color and chaos. The drinks had been cleared away, the coffee table in the living room swiped clean. Pepper was in the kitchen, babbling on the phone to about a dozen different people at SI, trying to organize whatever and whoever she could. The team was on their way: the new and the old. He’d spoken to Steve for a stunted 30 seconds, had pulled himself out of his adrenaline just long enough to process his promise of I’ll be there in an hour before hitting End Call.

He was sitting on the floor, now, back pressed against the couch, clutching the TV remote in his left hand for no reason other than to be holding something.

“Is Morgan still in her room?” He whispered, because that was… that was all he had left. God, he couldn’t live without one of them, how would he possibly survive losing them both?

“Yeah, Tony.” Happy seemed hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how much information he was meant to be revealing. “Pepper checked on her. We’re letting her sleep.”

“Okay. Okay.” He closed his eyes. Tried to steady himself on a home-grown foundation that had just lost one of its most vital supports. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Rhodey knelt beside him, hand heavy on his shoulder. “Tony, are you sure that you shouldn’t-

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snarled, although he wasn’t really sure what he was sure about. He wanted his child back? Yeah… Yeah. He was sure about that. He was sure about regretting the fact that he’d ever let Peter leave his sight. “Now, will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?”

Happy sighed, pushing the coffee table out of the way and joining Rhodey on his knees in front of him. It was funny, in a horrible, morbid, stomach-twisting sort of way. Three of the most high-powered men in the country were kneeling on the floor, falling to pieces because a single kid was missing.

“He was with his friends, at a club,” Happy started slowly. “We had two of his guards in there with him, blending in and keeping their distance, and a group of six more stationed on the outside. He got up to go to the bathroom. One of the guards followed, the other stuck by his friends so they could have eyes on him when he came back. We don’t really know what the hell happened after that. As far as the guards saw, he never came out of the bathroom. One of them went in after about ten minutes, checked all the stalls. His phone was on the floor, but he wasn’t there, so they raised the alarm. We scanned the perimeter, and found skid marks and one of the external guards down by the kitchen’s loading area-”

Tony hated panic, hated situations that threw him in the deep end like this. He wasn’t used to being slow, to being one step behind everyone else, but that’s exactly what this was. He was handicapped, stuck in molasses because this was his child. There was nothing… There was no way that the word efficiency could slot into the haze settling over him.

“What, uh,” he shook his head, trying to clear it, to knock his thoughts into something orderly and complete, “what do you mean, one of the guards was down?”

“They’re dead, Tony,” Happy breathed, and even though his own turmoil, Tony could see the pain on the man’s face. “Whoever took Peter shot them in the head. By the time we got to the scene, there was nothing we could do.”

Peter’s never going to forgive himself for that.

He didn’t even have the presence of mind to feel guilt over the fact that his only concern was for Peter. The guard… he’d feel bad about that later. He’d compartmentalize it, because it was selfish and horrible and very unheroic, but nobody mattered more than Peter. Nobody mattered more than his kid.

“Why… Why didn’t he hit his panic button?”

“That’s the question.” Happy scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Every inch of him looked tired, like he’d been running on empty for weeks and weeks and weeks, except it hadn’t been weeks. It had only been a few hours since Peter had been taken, only a few minutes since Tony had been told, but it felt like… it felt like decades. “We found it out in the alley, a few feet away from where we think the getaway car must’ve been parked. He never pushed it.”

“He didn’t push it?”

“No.”

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Sure, Peter could be a brat about security sometimes, but he did use the resources he was given. He’d hit the panic button multiple times before. Why didn’t he do it now? Why?

He shook his head again, swallowed hard past the lump growing in his throat. “So… So he knew them. He must’ve.”

“Or… Tony, you know I don’t wanna be the person to break this to you, but he was drunk. He’d already had about half a bottle of champagne and a few shots by the time he was taken. One of the guards said he was stumbling when he got up to go to the bathroom, and his friends told us that he seemed pretty wasted.”

That shouldn’t have mattered. Peter was… he was 22, for god’s sake. He’d just graduated valedictorian from Columbia. The kid was allowed to drink some champagne, to get a little-

“Wait, no.” He ran a few numbers through his head, cold and ice and dread sprouting up in his lungs as they refused to compute. “That… he was stumbling?”

“Yeah. That’s what one of his detail said, at least.”

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense, Hap. He… He shouldn’t’ve been that out of it already. His… His metabolism. It’d take more than some champagne and a few shots to get him that drunk. He’d need… He’d need something else.”

Realization snapped over Happy’s face, and he lunged to his feet, kicked the leg of the coffee table irritably when it got in his way. “Fuck. Shit. Why didn’t I think of that? They drugged him. They must’ve.”

Rhodey rubbed Tony’s shoulder, his calm presence the only anchor in wave after wave of helplessness, failure, fear. “Then they were inside the club. Or they had someone helping them.”

Happy was nodding restlessly, already working furiously on his phone. “I’m gonna call the guys on the scene, tell them to detain the bartender and anybody else who might’ve had access to the kid’s drink. And I’ll have someone get his glass and that bottle of champagne for testing.”

“You go,” Rhodey said, slipping forward to settle down at Tony’s side. “I’ll stay here. Hold down the fort.”

“Got it.”

Happy was rushing for the door. Tony could still hear Pepper talking in the kitchen. The team must’ve been most of the way to the cabin by now, scrambling over themselves because this was… it was all too much. Too awful to comprehend. Tony’s brain couldn’t process it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that Peter just… wasn’t going to come home. Wasn’t going to walk through the front door, a little tipsy and a little unbalanced but fine. Safe and loved and present. Ready to fly off to California at the end of the summer and leave a very, very proud Tony behind.

“Happy?” He called out, voice rough. The man went stock-still in the doorway, just barely turning to let him know that he had his attention. “Call me as soon as you know anything? Even if… Even if it’s bad. Just… please. Call me.”

That’s my baby, he thought, chest constricting at the bone-crushing loss of it all, if he’s dead… if he’s… if he’s never coming home, then I need to know. I need to know.

“I will, Tony. I promise.”

--

The Avengers blew into the cabin like a choreographed hurricane.

Tony had rarely had a chance to admire their efficiency from afar. He was usually on the outskirts of the disasters, working alongside them. But now he was the disaster. He was ground zero.

Rhodey brief them on what they knew so far, and the living room was quickly transformed from a haven of fireplace and colorful throws and family movie nights into a control room. The only thing that wasn’t touched was the couch Tony was leaning against. He didn’t even realize that it was because of him until Steve sat down on the carpet, brow furrowed in concern as he set a cautious hand on his knee.

“Tony, I want you to let Bruce examine you.”

He scoffed at the suggestion, bitterness rolling over him so suddenly that he felt swamped by it.

“And I want my child back,” he snarled. “Guess tonight’s just gonna be full of disappointments for all of us, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Don’t even start with me, Rogers.” He didn’t know why he was being so cruel to Steve. The man didn’t deserve it. He was just… the closest target. The easiest thing to despise. “I’m just not in the mood.”

“Tones,” Rhodey whispered, dropping down pacifyingly between him and Steve, “listen to me. You know that your heart’s weaker after the Snap. If I’m hauling your ass to a hospital, I’m not looking for your kid. We’ve gotta prioritize, here.”

Even in this state, Tony was clever enough to know when he was being manipulated.

Luckily for Rhodey, he was just too goddamn tired to care.

“Fine,” he growled. “What the fuck ever. Just do it.”

Rhodey was right, unfortunately. He didn’t have time for a heart attack right now, didn’t have time for his body to be anything but functional. After they brought Peter home, well… then it didn’t really matter anymore.

He blinked up at the ceiling, ignoring Bruce as he tugged out his arm, clipped something onto his finger.

Bring him home, he prayed, although to who, he didn’t really know, please, just bring him home to me.

--

Apparently, his blood pressure was high.

Everyone seemed pretty damn concerned about it, which was just… honestly, it was hilarious.

Did they think it wouldn’t be high? His child was off god-knows-where with god-knows-who, probably drugged and confused and afraid and desperately in need of his father, and Tony was supposed to be calming down for the sake of his blood pressure?

His blood pressure could go screw itself, for all he cared.

Of course, nobody else seemed to share his viewpoint. They all fussed over him. Pepper tried to get him to do some bullshit breathing exercises, while Bruce called Cho and bickered with her about medication and preventative measures.

He really didn’t know how to explain to everyone that there was only one cure, and it was his child, safe in his arms.

Until that happened, there wasn’t a drug or a pill or a yoga technique in the world that could save him.

--

Happy burst into the room without any ceremony.

“I’ve got the results from Peter’s drinks.”

Tony staggered upright, shoving Clint’s hands away as the man tried to steady him. He felt breakable, like a single touch might send cracks down his spine, into his bones and down through the ground. Like one wrong move might split him apart.

“And?”

Happy winced. Physically winced, like the words he was about to say weighed a thousand tons. “They found gamma hydroxy butyrate, more commonly known as-”

“GHB,” Tony finished, and he was surprised by how numb he felt at the news. It should’ve terrified him. At the very least, he should’ve felt something. Instead, he just stared at it clinically, chemical formulas and sterile facts filling his head in place of the things he just couldn’t think about. The things he didn’t want to face. “It’s degreasing solvent mixed with drain cleaner.”

God. Drain cleaner. Someone… Someone had given his kid drain cleaner.

“Exactly,” Happy said, voice small and unsure. “And in low doses-”

“In low doses,” he breathed, “it’s a date-rape drug.”

Pain streaked across his old bodyguard’s face: a cocktail of guilt and terror and shame. “Yeah, Tony. It’s… It’s a date-rape drug.”

He swallowed. “That’s, uh, that’s why he was stumbling. Why he didn’t hit the panic button.”

Happy nodded. “Yeah. From the looks of the doses, it was probably meant to knock him out, but with his metabolism…”

Tony finished the sentence in his head. With his metabolism, it probably just made him feel awful, sick, confused. He probably wondered what the hell was happening to him. He probably wanted me.

“He was awake when they took him,” Tony whispered, nauseous. God, he was awake when they took him.

“That’s our best guess. And, uh, Tony…. Listen, I don’t really know if I should be telling you this, but-”

“Tell me,” he ordered, voice somehow sharp and resigned all at once. He… He had to hear it. He had to hear everything. It didn’t matter if it gave him nightmares for the rest of his life, didn’t matter if it was the worst thing he’d ever heard.

It was the only link to Peter that he had.

Happy was silent for a few seconds, then let out a defeated breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Peter’s phone. Tony knew it was his because of the case: pink and green and godawful to look at. The kid had only bought it because Morgan had liked it so much.

“We’ve gotten all we can from this, so I thought I’d give it back.” He handed it over, and Tony slid his fingers over the case, borderline reverent. He could still imagine it in Peter’s hands, or charging on his bedside table, or getting tossed onto the couch in favor of playing a boardgame with Morgan. Tiny, insignificant snippets of life, and yet they mattered so much. They’d mattered so much. “We think he was using it when they grabbed him.”

He tilted the phone to the light, watched his reflection warp in the glass screen. “What was he doing?”

“He was texting you.”

Something icy gripped his chest. When he finally managed to force words up his throat, his voice came out hoarse.

“What’d he say?”

Happy just gestured at the phone, expression pinched. “Bathroom didn’t have any service, so none of them sent, but it’s all still there. We didn’t delete anything. D’you know his passcode?”

“Yeah,” he said. Peter just doesn’t think that I do.

“Okay. Well, I’m… I’m gonna get back to work. I’ll come back if we find anything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to read it, Tony.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Alright.”

He heard rather than saw Happy move away, just barely caught him murmuring, “don’t let him spiral,” to Rhodey before he left.

Sure enough, Rhodey was right beside him within a few seconds, voice lowered in a guise of privacy, despite the fact that the room was still packed with Avengers, all pretending not to watch but definitely watching.

“Tony, it’s late,” he whispered. “Don’t do this now. Get some rest, and you can face it in the morning, if you really have to.”

“No,” he said, more forceful than he’d intended, but then again, Rhodey just didn’t understand. He was holding his child’s last words in his hands. How could he not read them? What kind of father would he be if he didn’t? “No. I need to do this now.”

He left the living room before anyone could stop him.

Happy’s car was already gone by the time he got to the front porch. He briefly considered settling down in one of the rocking chairs, or the porch swing, but every one of them carried a dozen memories of Peter, of summer days and fall nights and laughter and warmth and the kid’s head pressing heavy on his shoulder and he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face them.

He sat on the floor, back pressed up against the cabin, knees drawn to his chest.

He unlocked Peter’s phone. The brightness was up, but it automatically adjusted after a second or two. He opened the messages app, clicked his contact icon, and read.

hey tony? i thimk i fucked up (ERROR: not delivered)

i feel super super gross (ERROR: not delivered)

:( (ERROR: not delivered)

plz dont be mad i didnt mean to grt thsi drunk (ERROR: not delivered)

ugh fuck batgroom service (ERROR: not delivered)

i just kinda wish u were here to yell at me rn (ERROR: not delivered)

--

The front porch was nice at sunrise.

He’d spent so many hours out here, with Morgan and Peter. Both of them tended to be up early: Morgan because she was a child, Peter because he carried things that no child ever should. He’d sit with them, curled up under one of the afghans Pepper liked to buy from pop-up markets, and watch the sky become an oil painting.

That’d be a pretty smoothie, Morgan would say, pointing at the horizon, and Peter would laugh like she was the funniest thing in the world.

And what would it taste like, Mo?

Like a smoothie!

He heard the door swing open to his left, and while he knew it wasn’t Peter, a tiny part of him wanted to keeping pretending.

“Tones?”

Rhodey. Right. Of course it was Rhodey. Who else would come out here this early, ready to pick his ass up off the floor?

“Did you find anything?” He rasped, still staring out at the lake, watching the daylight step into the clouds, wishing he was watching Peter instead.

“Not yet.”

He just barely inclined his head in response. The answer should’ve hurt him, should’ve stung or panged or something, but it didn’t. After a while, pain just become pain. There wasn’t a scale anymore, wasn’t any room for additions or levels. There was just pain. Pain, and a family missing child. That’s all Tony had.

“I need you to tell me something,” he whispered, then swallowed. His throat scratched, dry and hot, “and I need you to be honest with me when you answer.”

Rhodey sat down beside him, leg braces glowing gently in the yellow-red dawn. “I can do that,” he responded, solemn.

“Do you… Do you think he’s already dead?”

Rhodey’s answer came immediately. “No.”

“Are you lying?”

“If I thought he was dead, I’d tell you.”

“Do you promise?” He balled up a fist, resisted to urge to slam it through the nearest object. “If you… If we reach a point where you think he’s dead, do you promise to tell me?”

He knew he was asking a lot. He could tell, because Rhodey’s breath caught, and he paused. Considered.

“Yeah, Tony,” Rhodey murmured, with all the enthusiasm of someone bartering away their soul. “I promise.”

“Good.” It wasn’t, but it felt like the right thing to say. “This is… This is bad, Rhodey.”

“Yeah, Tony, I know.”

He dropped his head into his hands, strained and exhausting and defeated. Peter was all it took, and Iron Man was down, decimated, conquered.

“If… If they show me a picture of him alive,” he whispered, and he knew he was saying something awful, admitting something dark and frightening, “and then they tell me to aim missiles at… at some hospital full of refugees on the Syrian border, they’re counting on the fact that a father would-”

“But you wouldn’t.”

His head snapped back up, and he nearly laughed at the conviction in Rhodey’s voice. God, had everyone really forgotten who he truly was? The heroism of Iron Man was an act. It was a stage curtain, drawn down to hide the monster underneath. Tony Stark was not a good man. He was certainly not a selfless one.

Yet he was so good at pretending that even his best friend believed the ruse.

He turned to stare at Rhodey, voice low. “I might.”

And that might be the most important thing I’ve ever said to you.

The corner of Rhodey’s mouth quirked up, like some part of this was actually amusing to him. “There are people around you who won’t let you.”

He couldn’t possibly be this good at deception. Had Rhodey actually forgotten? Had he forgotten that Tony hadn’t always been an Avenger, that the Merchant of Death was still a title that haunted him? Somedays, he was almost certain that he was more Merchant of Death than he was Iron Man. More a war-profiteer than he was an idol.

“What about a picture?” He said, because he didn’t know how to stop. He’d never known how to stop. “They’ve got a knife to his throat, and they tell me to send a Jericho missile to a bunker in Afghanistan?”

Rhodey shook his head. “You shouldn’t think of images like that.”

This time, he did laugh. Rhodey flinched, concern etched in every inch of his face, because yeah, Tony probably looked like he was losing his mind. And wasn’t he? His child was missing. There was no sanity to this.

“All I can think of are images like that.”

“Tony…”

“I know it's a strange time to bring this up,” he said, and he knew it was abrupt, but nothing seemed quite so linear anymore, “but I forecasted this once. I made up a scary story a few years ago for Peter so that he’d take his protection seriously, and I… and I went too far. And I scared him.” He let out a breath, years-harbored shame rising in his chest. “And he cried. And this… this was the story.”

“Tony-”

“I’m supposed to keep him safe.” His shoulders jerked, his breath hitched. He bit his knuckles to hold back a sob, ribs creaking under the strain of keeping it in. “That’s… fuck, Rhodey, that’s my only job. I’m supposed to keep him safe.”

“You can’t protect him from everything.” There was a pause, hesitant. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because he’s your child. He’s gotta find his way just like everybody else, and you were letting him do that.”

He wished it was as easy as that, as straightforward and simple to navigate, but it wasn’t. Once again, they’d found their way back to the same frustration he’d been helping Peter cope with for years: being a Stark was not normal. Nothing around them would ever be normal. Sure, the world didn’t stop spinning, but they had to operate differently inside of it, just because of Tony and his curse of a last name.

The money was nice. The fame was even pleasant, every once in a while. It certainly had been when he was young. But now? God, Tony just wanted quiet. He didn’t want this for his children. He’d give anything to drop off the radar, live in some middle-class neighborhood, buy a lawnmower, argue with Pepper about school districts.

“But they took him because he’s my child,” he pushed. They took him because they know it’ll break me. “This… This wouldn’t’ve happened to another kid, Rhodey. You know that.”

“Maybe not, but it did happen, and that’s what you’ve got to work with. Now, come inside,” Rhodey ordered, slicing a knife down on the conversation, as if ending the words could end the horrors still playing through Tony’s head. “Come inside, sit with your wife, and let us fix this.”

There is no fixing this. This will never be fixed.

But instead of staying that, he just did as he was told, and hoped that the next few hours wouldn’t bring him doing something awful in Peter’s name.

It was such a pure name, washed clean by kid who carried it. It didn’t deserve to be sullied by Tony’s true nature, by the darkness he dragged behind him like a chain.

God knows that enough had already been sacrificed on that altar.

--

It was daylight, and there were reporters outside.

Happy and his guys were keeping them back. Apparently, they’d released details of Peter’s kidnapping to the press in the hope that someone might’ve seen something, that they’d come forward with information. In these kinds of cases, one detail, one first person account, could be the difference between life and death.

They’d set up a hotline, and the team was already chasing a few leads, but the reporters were chasing the story, the sensationalism of it all, and Tony hated it.

His child wasn’t a headline. His child was a child. A living, breathing, precious person. Something be cradled and adored and protected. Not something be exploited for a melodramatic hook.

Pepper and Steve would talk about it in tense, hushed tones. A couple of the Avengers had gone out to talk to the gathered press, just once or twice, but Tony didn’t have a clue what they were saying.

What did other parents do when this sort of thing happened? When their child was taken from them? He remembered a few high-profile kidnappings, all distant and wobbly in his head. What did they do? Did they print flyers? Did they give interviews? Did they beg?

Wait. Wait. That’s… That’s exactly what parents did.

They begged. They pleaded. They told the kidnappers that they’d do whatever they wanted, as long as they got their baby back.

He staggered to his feet, a little wobbly but emotions finally hardening into something tangible, something he could focus on.

There were only a few things on Earth that Tony Stark was willing to swallow his pride for, and this… this was one of them. His children would always be one of them.

He was going to beg.

He only made it about four steps towards the cabin’s door before the team noticed. There were a solid few seconds of scattered glances, a rapid exchange of responsibilities, until Natasha stood and took the lead.

“Tony?” She grabbed at his arm, expression somehow soft and fierce all at once. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make a direct appeal.”

The whole room went silent. He made the mistake of glancing at Clint’s face, and the raw pity there made him want to scream.

“Tony,” Nat said, voice quiet, coaxing, lowered like he was stupid, “you can’t.”

“I’m his father,” he choked out, because at the end of the day, that was the only thing that mattered, the only explanation that he should ever have to give. “I-I don’t even know why I’ve waited this long. I-”

And then Steve was there, reaching for his other arm, voice as calm and solid as it always was.

“Come on, Tony, let’s think this through-”

“Get away from me,” he snapped.

“Tony-”

“I’m going to make a direct appeal,” he repeated, and even he knew that he sounded like a broken record, but he just… all he could see was Peter. The stupid grin on his face earlier that day, when Morgan had barreled into his chest and he’d scooped her up off the ground, spinning her like she was the one who just graduated, like she was the most valuable thing he’d ever held. “I don’t know why I waited this long.”

Nat sounded a little desperate now, pulling hard at his sleeve, warning. “Tony, I know that you’ve convinced yourself that you’re doing what’s right, but you’re not thinking straight-”

And then there was Pepper.

She planted herself between him and the door, firm and solid and Tony knew, he knew that he wasn’t getting past her. He knew it from the moment he saw the look on her face: devastated and loving and calm.

“Stop it, Tony,” she said, soft and kind.

He grabbed for her, taking fistfuls of her shirt and clinging. He felt like a little kid, confused and lost and alone. He was navigating whitewater rapids without a map or a paddle. He couldn’t… He couldn’t do this. People weren’t built to survive this kind of thing. It wasn’t possible.

“I… I have to make a direct-”

“No,” she murmured, cutting him off. “No, Tony, Natasha’s right. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

He had meant for the question to be abrasive, angry, but it just came out broken.

“It can be seen as negotiating with the people who took him,” Pepper said, not apologizing, not pulling punches, “and if their goal is to destabilize us, or Stark Industries, or the Avengers, then they're going to see you and know that they're succeeding.” She let out a breath, composure cracking just a little, just at the corners. “You… You can’t make a direct appeal.”

He knew she was right. He’d known she was right long before he’d even made the choice to do it.

It still felt like he’d been torn in two.

He sank to the floor. He was vaguely aware of Natasha grabbing his elbow, guiding him down so he didn’t hurt himself. She pushed him up against the wall, then stepped away, gave him the room he needed to crumble.

“Honey,” Pepper whispered, voice hitching, hands tracing down his face. He didn’t know when she’d joined him on the floor, but he… he was so glad she was there. He was so glad that someone was still there. “Honey, I…”

“I’ve seen other fathers do it,” he croaked. “Before. In… In other kidnappings. I’ve seen other fathers do it.”

“I know.”

“I thought… I just thought that, that maybe if I tried, then I would’ve… then I would’ve done something.”

“I know.”

“I can’t stand not doing something. I have to be doing something.”

“I know that, too.”

His eyes jerked up, meeting hers in a clash of long-harbored panic. “Pep… What if he’s…”

“He’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re not other fathers,” she said gently, a sad smile on her face. “Other fathers make direct appeals because that’s all they can do. They’re going to want to negotiate, Tony.”

“I… I can’t negotiate, Pep. Not… Not for him. How could I?”

“I know that. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

He blinked. That was… a good idea. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. Pepper had never, ever lost a deal that mattered. Ever. She had a spotless track record. And while she loved Peter, she wasn’t as shredded by this as he was. Her head was still above the water, at least for now.

Pepper had joked, once, a little bitterly, that Peter was all Tony’s kid, she just helped out with the details. He knew that wasn’t entirely true, of course. She’d stepped up for Peter in ways that had mattered beyond her comprehension, but she wasn’t entirely wrong, either. Peter had been his kid long before he’d been Pepper’s. And that changed dynamics. It had to.

“You have to bring him home.”

“We will, Tony,” Pepper said, and Tony wished with everything he had that he could drown himself in her belief, her faith. “We’re going to do everything we can to bring him back to you.”

He tried to ignore the fact that, as promises went, she’d just given him a pretty unstable one.

--

Tony was still sitting on the floor, staring blankly into nothing, when the alert chimed in.

He didn’t think anything of it, at first, and he supposed that he’d been doing a lot of that tonight. Staring past the obvious, overlooking the signs because ignorance was so blessed and calm compared to knowing.

But then Natasha’s face went hard, and she was waving for Steve, and then he was waving for Rhodey, and then he was waving for Pepper, and Tony realized that something had just gone very, very wrong.

He staggered upright, making a beeline for the rapidly growing group huddled around Natasha’s laptop. He couldn’t see past their shoulders, couldn’t even hear what they were saying, because so many voices were intersecting and overlapping in every other beat, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“Is it Peter?” He snapped, and Steve swung to face him, face a mixture of pity and concern.

“Tony…”

That was all the answer he’d needed. It was Peter, then. Hell, what else would it be?

Something else had happened to Peter. Somewhere in his gut, he knew it was bad. Awful. Nothing that he wanted to see.

And yet he knew that he had to.

He tried to push past Steve’s restraining hand, craning his neck to catch of glimpse of the screen. “What is it?”

“It’s a ransom note,” Natasha said, forever to the point. He’d never appreciated that personality trait more than he did in that exact moment.

“And they sent a picture,” Steve added.

The world snapped to a halt. He felt hysterical. Unhinged. And Steve… Steve didn’t understand. None of them did, except maybe Clint. He was a father and he’d been torn away from his child. He just… He just wanted him back, even if it was in the form of a picture. Even if it was through a ransom note.

“Is it of Peter?!” He tried to lunge forward again, and failed. Damn Steve’s super strength. He wished he had the suit. “The… The picture. Is the picture of Peter?”

“Yeah, Tony, it is, but you have to understand-”

“Let me see,” he snarled. “He’s my kid. It’s for me. So let me see it.”

To his surprise, the group all exchanged glances, different people in varying degrees of sympathetic pain, and parted.

The image had obviously been taken with a polaroid camera, and then scanned or faxed alongside the handwritten ransom note. The quality was bad, but it was clear enough to show details. It… It wasn’t grainy enough to spare him.

Peter was tied to a chair, a dirty gag shoved into his mouth, digging into his cheeks. The kidnappers had tossed a newspaper into his lap, proof of life with the date clearly shown, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention. No, it was Peter’s face that ached, somewhere deep in his gut. If he was a spiritual man, he would’ve said that it ached in his soul.

He knew his kid. Knew his eyes like he’d never known anything else. And that photo? It was wrong. Peter wasn’t just scared: he was drugged out of his mind. In fact, it was the general lack of fear in the kid’s gaze that disturbed him the most. He looked too incoherent for any emotion other than exhaustion.

He’d seen Peter high before, always after Spider-Man related injuries, but it’d never been like this. It had always been monitored, consensual, safe, and nothing they’d given him had ever made him vacant. He was usually just sleepy or giggly or both. He’d… He’d never looked so detached.

It made Tony want to hold him, shield him, but now he couldn’t do either of those things and it hurt.

“Oh, god,” he gasped, panic attack smacking right into him without warning, without a single chance to batten down the hatches. “Fuck.”

The world tilt-a-whirled. He felt Rhodey grab him, push and pull and tug him until he was sitting on the couch. His head was shoved between his knees, and conversations pinged around above him without any of the words computing. All he could hearseethink was Peter, Peter, Peter.

If I was a better father, none of this would’ve ever happened.

Eventually, someone grabbed his shoulders, hauled him upright, and it took him a full minute to realize it was Rhodey.

“Tony,” the Colonel said, and he sounded serious, like whatever he was saying was final, no arguments allow. “I’m going to call Bruce, alright?”

Yes. Yes. Bruce… Bruce would be good now. He’d heard them whispering about sedating him earlier, off in corners and hallways, when they thought he was too absorbed in his grief to notice. At the time, the thought had made his heart race, terror and revulsion making him paranoid. He couldn’t check out. He couldn’t. What use would he be to Peter like that?

Now, he’d lunge for just about anything that would take this feeling away. That would let him pull back from the grainy images of Peter’s eyes: glassy, unfocused, afraid and confused and lacking in that spark that would lull Tony into moments of forgetfulness. Moments when he’d genuinely have to remind himself that Morgan was the one with his DNA, not Peter.

“Tell him,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut against the things he didn’t want to see, the photo that he’d never be able to forget, “tell him that I want whatever it is that Peter got.”

--

He didn’t know how long he slept for, but he knew that when he woke up, he woke up groggy. Groggy enough that, for a shamefully calm half hour, he forgot that Peter was missing.

And then he remembered, and he lost his child all over again.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. must’ve alerted Pepper when his heartrate spiked, because she slipped into the room within two minutes. She sat beside him, hand resting on his hip through their comforter. Her eyes were red, but she smiled like it was just another Tuesday, like their entire world wasn’t crumbling down around their feet, and he envied her. He envied her the composure. The ability to catalogue the things that were important and the things that weren’t.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hey.”

“I thought you’d sleep longer than this.”

He pursed his lips, ignored the implicit suggestion in the words. “Anything new?”

“No.”

He nodded, took in the disappointment slowly, wondered how long he could survive living in limbo. There were thousands upon thousands of unsolved missing persons cases in the United States alone. Every hour that crawled by lessened their chances of bringing Peter home alive, or even bringing him home at all. How could Tony possibly be one of those parents, the ones who spent the rest of their heartbeats agonizing over their child’s loss?

Are they still alive, hidden somewhere out in the world, vulnerable and unprotected? Are they dead? Which option is better: knowing that they’re alive, and suffering, or dead and free? Oh, god. What was it like, at the end? Were they afraid? Did they cry? Did they call out for their dad, because he was the one person who was always meant to save them?

Tony hadn’t been there for the start of Peter’s life. And now it might be over, Peter might be gone, and he hadn’t even been there for that, too. Couldn’t even say if it had happened.

“What time is it?” He asked, just to distract himself. Besides, every hour marked a dwindling statistic. Tony needed to know if they stood a chance, if there was still even a sliver of hope, and someone must’ve closed the curtains after he’d gone to bed, so he couldn’t quite see if there was daylight or darkness behind them.

“7:30.”

“Oh,” he whispered. That was later than he’d thought. The graph in his head nosedived. “Bruce gave me something.”

Pepper’s face twitched, eyes bleeding sympathy. “I know. I’m so sorry, honey.”

“They gave… They gave Peter something, too,” he choked out, “and… and he said that it made him feel sick and I wasn’t there to take care of him.”

Pepper’s blink lasted a good few seconds longer than it should’ve, as if watching Tony crumble was too much for her to watch, but the rest of her stayed steady. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He swallowed, trying to stamp down the perpetual helplessness that had taken residence in his gut, replace it with something else, something he could hold.

“How’s Morgan?”

“She’s okay. She’s been asking to see you.”

“I wanna see her.”

“In a minute.” Pepper slid her hand through his hair, voice soft, the kind of tone she used with Morgan or Peter when they were upset. “Try to relax a little first.”

“I had a dream,” he blurted. He knew that this was probably the opposite of what Pepper meant by relaxing, but he couldn’t help it. “I was in Peter’s bedroom, but it was… it was before. Right after May died. Remember… Remember how he wouldn’t get out of bed?”

For a split second, Pepper’s face flashed from composure to devastation, but it was so brief that it was easy to imagine that it had never happened at all. “Of course I remember. He wouldn’t get up, so you used to go in there and sit with him.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and he smiled despite himself. He treasured those memories just as much as he wished they’d never happened. Helping Peter grieve for May was an ongoing tragedy, and one of the hardest things he’d ever had to watch, but once the initial aftershocks ended, Tony had gained a second child. “He’d curled up in my lap, and I was holding him. We didn’t… We weren’t even talking. I was just holding him.”

He swallowed, breath hitching. He met Pepper’s eyes, trying desperately to convey something that just wasn’t possible to capture in words. A loss, a fear, a weakening hope.

“Pep,” he whispered, hoarse and crackling, “Pep, I was holding him, but then I woke up and he wasn’t there.”

She didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize, or promise that they’d get him back.

She just reached out and took his hand.

--

It was just past 11:00 when Rhodey pushed into the bedroom.

For a split second, Tony assumed the worst. But then,

“We found him,” Rhodey breathed. Beside him, Pepper gasped, like she couldn’t believe it. “Happy got a lead and, well, it doesn’t really matter. But we’ve got him, Tones. Steve’s got him.”

--

The flight from New York to Calverton, Virginia took an hour. They left Morgan back at the cabin, with Clint’s wife. Tony half considered bringing her, but he didn’t know what shape Peter would be in, physically or mentally. And he… he didn’t want to frighten her, although he supposed that was a moot point after the last 48 hours.

When this was all over, Tony promised himself that he’d apologize to both his children, for lots of different things.

For now, he just wanted Peter. He wanted to hold him, like in his dream but real. He wanted a moment that he couldn’t wake up from.

He mostly ignored Rhodey’s explanation of how they’d tracked the kidnappers down. It was complicated and had something to do with a gas station and a random college kid who’d seen Peter’s picture on the news. Happenstance, really. They’d gotten lucky.

“Is he alright?” Pepper asked, and Tony was glad that someone rational was thinking of the important things. “Did they hurt him?”

“The medics think that he may have a clavicle fracture,” Rhodey said. Tony could feel his eyes on him even though he was staring at his feet. “His kidnappers set off some tear gas and stun grenades when the team went it, so he’s got some irritation and ringing in his ears. No sign of sexual assault, but he’s still pretty out of it. They’re running a tox screen to make sure we’re not in danger of any overdoses.”

Tony looked up. He flexed his hands out in front of him, wincing when his wrists popped. “Is he asking for me?”

“Yeah. Steve said that that’s pretty much the only thing he’s said, too. Asked where you were a couple times and checked out.”

Tony bit his lip. Peter had been drugged, beaten, surrounded by doctors he didn’t know and thrown right into the chaos of a crime scene, and yet he’d still looked up at strangers and asked for him.

“Does he know I’m coming?”

“The medics told him.” Rhodey reached across the seats and grabbed his elbow as they started to descend, engines whining. “Hey, look at me. You sure you’re good to do this?”

He blinked, barely even processing the words.

What kind of question is that?

“This,” he started, quiet enough that there was no way Rhodey would’ve heard him if they didn’t have headsets, “is my job.”

“If he sees you upset, it’s gonna make him even more upset.”

“He won’t see me upset.”

Rhodey groaned, and it kind of hurt that nobody seemed to believe he was capable of parenting his own goddamn kid, no matter what emotional state he was in. “Tony, you’re-”

“Very good at this,” he finished, cutting off whatever Rhodey actually meant to say. He imagined he wouldn’t’ve liked it much, anyway. “I’m very good at this.”

“I know you are, Tony, but this has been a rough-”

“He won’t know I’m upset,” he snarled, voice dangerous, and it felt so good to have a purpose. To have something to curl over and protect. “He won’t.”

Rhodey sighed, defeated. He didn’t look like he believed him, but Tony didn’t really care. “Alright. Just be careful, okay? Don’t go overboard.”

Overboard. Of course he was gonna go overboard. He was gonna go overboard with absolutely everything for the rest of Peter’s life.

He didn’t bother walking when the helicopter landed. He just bolted, weaving through police and paramedics and FBI agents and what felt like a thousand other pointless uniforms. Pepper and Rhodey both tailed him, not missing a beat.

Nobody had told him where Peter was, and it was pitch black outside, midnight having only recently come and gone. The only light came from the dozens of different emergency signals spread out across the field, blue and red and yellow and every other color of the rainbow, all blinking at their own dizzying frequencies. There was no logical way that he should’ve been able to find his kid in that chaos, and yet his feet just took him there, like they’d walked this path a million times, even though he wasn’t sure that he’d ever been within a hundred miles of Calverton before.

He saw the security before he saw his kid. There were about ten guards holding a perimeter around the solitary ambulance, and Tony made a mental note to give Happy a goddamn raise once this was all over.

And then there was Peter, and every single mental note he’d ever made evaporated into thin air.

He was slouched over on the back of the ambulance, orange shock blanket folded over his shoulders. He was bloody, bruised. There was dirt and ash all over his face, but none of that mattered at all because he was still the most beautiful, wonderful, breathtaking thing Tony had ever seen.

“Peter!” His voice broke with the force of the shout. “Peter!”

Despite everything, Peter recognized him right away. His head turned towards the sound, and his arms lifted up, fingers curling weakly in the air.

“Tony?”

“Here,” he gasped, skidding to a stop in front of the kid. “I’m right here, Pete. I’m right here.”

He grabbed Peter’s face between his hands, dragged the pads of his thumbs along the curve of his cheekbones, brushing away tear-smudged grime, and all his anguish evaporated. Gone. He knew it’d return, at some point, probably in the folds of night, far away from where anyone but Pepper could see it, but for now he was calm, capable. He felt in control, because that was the only thing he was allowed to be. Because that was exactly what Peter needed him to be.

He’d meant what he’d said to Rhodey. He was good at this.

“Hey there, buddy,” he whispered. He sniffed hard against the tears building in his throat, but he was grinning so wide that his cheeks ached. “You really got yourself into a mess this time, huh?”

“He’s been a little too close to unresponsive for our tastes,” one of the medics offered, and he glanced up to her. She had a sympathetic smile on her face, soft and kind, “but we were hoping that having dad here might help.”

He nodded, hoping that his expression conveyed the thanks he didn’t have the breath to voice, and turned his attention back to Peter. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, shifting Peter’s face a little, trying to get a reaction. “You with me, squirt?”

Peter looked dazed, pupils blown so wide that Tony could barely find any brown in his eyes at all, but there was recognition there, too. Drowsy and subdued, but recognition all the same.

“‘M with you,” he slurred, blinking hard. “I don’ feel very good.”

“I know, squirt. We’re gonna fix that, okay?”

Peter nodded, then slumped forward into his chest, nose digging into the crook of his neck. “‘M sorry. Didn’… Didn’ mean it.”

Tony had expected the apology, but it still felt like a slap in the face. “Shh, shh. None of this was your fault, kiddo.”

I’m sorry I didn’t do enough to protect you.

“‘M so glad you’re here,” Peter mumbled, and Tony wondered if he even knew that he was talking. “Kept asking for you. They said you w’re coming.”

Tony could feel each one of Peter’s breaths on his skin, warm and slow and relaxed. He’d heard about hostage victims being keyed-up on release, jumpy and paranoid, and just here his kid was: practically dozing off in his arms, murmuring apologies and sermons of faith, easy and relaxed just because Tony was here. Because Tony was holding him.

“Of course I was coming,” he managed to choke out. “I’ll always come for you, Pete. I’m always gonna come for you.”

“Mm. I know. Always got me.”

He’d never deserve this. Never. He could spend the rest of his life devoted to charity, to selflessness, and yet there would never come a day when he would deserve his children.

It should’ve been a disheartening thought, but it wasn’t. It was humbling. It made him feel grateful.

He found the gaze of the nurse who’d first spoken to him, fingers threading slowly through Peter’s hair. “Can I take him?”

“Of course,” she said. “But he’ll need x-rays to confirm that fracture, and fluids, and I wouldn’t let him go unmonitored until his tox screens start coming back clear. You have someone back at base who can do all that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then he’s all yours.”

He wrapped the shock blanket more firmly around Peter’s shoulders, dreaming of the moment he could tear it off, burn it, and replace it with one of the red fleece ones Pepper had brought back from a conference in Colorado at the end of Peter’s senior year. He couldn’t wait until they could finally peel off the layers of this night and replace them with new memories, with new things, with good, peaceful, mundane things.

“I’m gonna take you home now, Pete,” he whispered, fisting his hand desperately in the back of the kid’s shirt. “We’re gonna go home.”

--

Peter slept straight through the helicopter ride back to New York, legs stretched over Tony’s lap like a cat. He woke up just long enough for Tony to guide him to his bedroom (Tony had to coach him up the stairs like it was his first encounter with the concept), but he was out again as soon as he reached his bed. Cho and Bruce both assured him that there was nothing to be concerned about, that his body was just burning off the drugs, but it didn’t stop him from laying Peter against his chest and keeping a finger on his pulse.

Cho and Bruce must’ve sensed that he wanted nothing more than to be left alone with his kid, because they rushed through the process of converting Peter’s bedroom into a makeshift hospital suite. Peter roused a little when Cho placed his IV, but only enough to make a mild noise of displeasure and bury himself more firmly into Tony’s arms. Otherwise, Peter seemed perfectly content to let Tony deal with the world for him.

That was fine. That was more than fine, actually. It was exactly what he’d been wanting to do for days.

Pepper wandered in and out of the room, spreading her time between them and Morgan. Bruce popped in to give him the tox screen results, but he left almost as soon as he came. He didn’t know what the rest of the team was doing, but he knew that Rhodey had stayed behind in Calverton, with Happy.

The longer he spent unwinding, the more he wished he’d asked better questions.

He didn’t have a clue what had actually happened to Peter, didn’t know if his kidnappers were captured or dead, or if they’d escaped. He didn’t know anything.

Steve knocked on the doorframe after a few hours of pointless wondering, shifting nervously on his feet. It was as if Tony had put an impassable barrier around Peter’s bed, the kind that no one could see but everyone could feel. Nobody was brave enough to touch it.

“You can come it,” he said, amused. “I don’t bite.”

Steve took two steps forward, then stopped, clearly having no intention of moving any farther. “I don’t mean to intrude-”

He rolled his eyes. “What do you need, Steve?”

“The press is clamoring for a statement,” Steve said, after a brief moment of hesitation, “preferably in person.”

Tony pushed some of Peter’s hair back from his forehead, forcing himself to ignore the tiny cuts and bruises littering the kid’s face. “Giving a statement would involve leaving this room.”

Steve just nodded. “I understand.” He gestured in Peter’s direction, stiff and unsure, like he was treading on ice. “How is he?”

Tony smiled. He really didn’t know why everyone seemed so determined to dance around the topic of Peter, especially now that he was home. It wasn’t a touchy subject, it was Tony’s favorite subject.

“He’s sleeping, safe and sound.”

“I’m glad.”

“They ran a tox screen,” he offered. “He’s got GBH and ecstasy and a couple other pretty nasty things in his system. Cho’s confident that the fluids should help him metabolize it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirmed that he’s got a small fracture in his collarbone, but his healing should take care of it pretty quickly once his body recalibrates.” He smiled, eyes never leaving Peter’s face. “He’ll be back to playing Mario Kart with Morgan in no time.”

“Good.” Steve walked around to his side of the bed, steps slow and measured. “Do you want me to give you the details of everything now, or later?”

“Give me the essentials. Are they dead?”

“Yeah.” Relief shot through him. “Clint got two with his arrows. The other one was sleeping when we came in. He tried to grab a weapon, but Nat got to him first. Sam found Peter locked in a closet in the back bedroom.”

The rage he felt at the detail conflicted with the tenderness that rose with every second he spent with his children. In the end, he set the anger aside. He didn’t need it, right now. It wouldn’t made Peter heal faster.

“You sure there were only three?”

“We’re looking into it, but we’re nearly positive.”

He dipped his head in Peter’s direction. “How was he when you found him?”

Darkness swooped over Steve’s face, and his voice went hard. “Not great.” A pause. “You think he’ll be alright?”

“Without a doubt,” he said, and he meant it. “He’s a tough kid, and he’s got a good therapist. Pretty sure there isn’t anything he can’t tackle and come out the winner.”

“And what about you?” Steve asked, as sincere as Tony had ever heard him. “Will you be alright?”

He smoothed his palm down Peter’s back, and thought back to his dream. He’d imagined the whole thing wrong, he realized. The joy he’d felt then hadn’t captured even a single fraction of the joy he was feeling now.

“Of course I’ll be alright,” he said, like it was obvious. “I’ve got the best family in the world.”

--

--

--

Natasha had never been in Peter’s room before. Then again, she’d very rarely been the cabin, either. Tony had gone out of his way to keep his family shielded from everyone, even the team.

After everything they’d been through, she had a hard time blaming him for that.

Tony and Peter were both asleep when she poked her head through the door. She guessed that it was probably the first time either of them had had any real rest in days. Even unconscious, Tony had placed himself between Peter and the door, arms wrapped tightly around the kid, as if someone was going to try to steal him when he wasn’t looking.

Bruce and Cho had turned the bedroom into a makeshift hospital room, monitors and an IV pole tucked up in a corner, but it didn’t change the cozy atmosphere. A few framed sci-fi posters littered the walls, but there were family pictures as well: everything from photobooth strips to professional portraits.

For a brief few seconds, she let herself wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up in a place that felt like a home.

Pepper ended up catching her attention before the thoughts could go too far. She was the only other person in the room, and, unlike Tony and Peter, she was actually awake. She beckoned for her to come in, posture as relaxed as Natasha had ever seen it.

“Hey,” Pepper greeted, voice just above a whisper. “Are you here for Tony?”

“I am.”

“Can it wait?”

Her eyes flickered up to the pair curled around each other on the bed, and she made her decision without a hint of hesitation. “I’ll make it wait.”

Pepper shot her a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. How are they?”

Pepper leaned forward in her chair, and brushed the back of Peter’s hand gently. It was a mother’s touch, kind and adoring. She tried not to stare.

“Peter’s still pretty out of it, but he’s been talking to Tony, so that’s a step in the right direction. It might take a while for his metabolism to clear out all the shit they pumped into him, but his vitals are holding steady.”

“Did the tox screen come back?”

Pepper sighed. “It did. It’s a miracle Tony didn’t have an aneurism when Cho read it to us. They gave him GHB and ecstasy, among a few other things, but there’s nothing we can do about it except wait.”

That certainly wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. She hadn’t said it out loud, but she’d been prepping herself for the possibility that by the time they found the kid, they’d have already OD’d him.

She’d seen those kinds of bodies before, and they weren’t pretty. She wasn’t sure how Tony’s would’ve handled it.

Speaking of which…

“And how’s Tony?”

Pepper’s face softened even more at the mention of her husband. She reached out to adjust his shirt, tone warm. “His baby’s back, so all’s right with the world again. At least for now.” She let out an exhausted breath. “And after everything that’s happened, I’ll take for now.”

She wondered if Pepper had slept since Peter’s graduation. The more she analyzed the past few days, the more she came to the conclusion that she hadn’t.

“I doubt Peter’ll be allowed out of his sight for the next few weeks.”

“Weeks?” Pepper snorted, a rare slip of her polish. Natasha guessed that she saw it more than the boys did. “Oh, Peter’s going to have Tony following him around for the next decade at least. It’ll be sweet for a while, because at first he’ll actually enjoy the coddling, but then both of them are going to make my life a living hell.”

Natasha just smiled. There wasn’t even a hint of genuine aggravation in Pepper’s voice: just relief. “You can’t wait, can you?”

Pepper’s face lit up. “God, Nat, I’ve never been more ecstatic over the thought of the two of them snipping at each other in my life.”

She laughed, careful not to disturb either of Pepper’s charges, then took a cautious step towards the door. As much as she enjoyed Pepper’s company, there were still a million things to be done. She’d handle the paperwork, and she’d let the parents handle the kid.

She wasn’t really qualified for the gushy stuff.

“I’ll let you spend some time with your family.”

“Actually, Nat, before you go…” Pepper paused, chewing on the words, “just, well, thank you. People are never able to forget that Peter’s Tony’s child, but they tend to overlook that he’s mine now, too. He’s been mine for nearly six years. And I know that I’ll never love him like Tony does, but… but I still love him, and I’m still grateful.”

“I’m just doing my job,” she said, smile tight.

“It’s a good job, Nat.”

She backed the rest of the way into the hall. “Yeah, it is.”

The door clicked shut, and she just barely inclined her head to the security guard that was stationed outside of it. They’d be a common presence around here, for a while, at least until Stark re-found that tenuous balance between keeping his kids safe and letting them live.

She’d been worried about Peter, before. If there was anyone in the world who understood trauma, understood what it could do to your soul, it was Natasha Romanoff, but she knew now that Peter Parker had something that she’d never had.

He had people who gave a shit. People who’d make sure that he was fine.

She wondered if he knew how lucky he had it.

[buggachat]

My friend told me "all pairs of Love Square is cool except Ladynoir because Ladynoir is weird. Ladybug don't like him and sometimes couldn't even stand him and Chat is being a creep, always trying to flirt with her and kiss her even though she clearly stated that she wants nothing to do with him. He can't take no for an answer." And I feel bad now maybe she has a point? I'm confused :/

First of all, I totally get what your friend means and her discomfort with Chat’s behavior towards Ladybug is totally valid. 

However, I’m going to write a thing in defense of Ladynoir. This isn’t really to prove your friend wrong, per-say, because I’m honest when I say that her being uncomfortable by that is totally legitimate, but rather that “your friend isn’t necessarily right, depending on how you interpret it, and Ladynoir is still a totally valid ship and you don’t have to feel bad for liking it”

my argument is under read more

So a key thing in this is, while what Chat’s doing could definitely be creepy / make some people uncomfortable, I’m going to argue that Ladybug isn’t made uncomfortable by his behavior. Chat knows this, and this is the only reason that he continues.

I’ve personally never gotten the sense that Ladybug feels at all threatened by, uncomfortable with, or pressured by Chat Noir. She gets annoyed, sure, but her annoyance is basically on the same level as her annoyance at his puns. Her reaction to his flirting is less “please Chat, you’re in my personal space and you’re making me uncomfortable” and more “really? now? we’re in the middle of fighting something, dumbass”.

Here are basically Ladybug’s general reactions to Chat flirting. Notice that while she’s usually not happy, she certainly doesn’t seem cornered, pressured, or uncomfortable in any way other than mild annoyance (again, similar to her reactions to his puns). I did not selectively pick screenshots to prove my point, these were just some scenes I remembered to look for off the top of my head where Chat flirted with her:

In terms of power, I feel like Ladybug basically always has the ball in her court. She’s in control of the situation, she knows it, and Chat Noir knows it. Ladybug is confident and upfront with her feelings, and as such there’s never a sense that Chat Noir is “corning” her or “pressuring” her into anything, because Ladybug does not feel cornered or pressured. If anything, her treatment of Chat’s behavior is similar to maybe what an adult would react to a little kid flirting with them. Like a roll of the eyes and “okay, little one. whatever you say.” lmao

As for what your friend says about “trying to kiss her”, Chat only ever tried to kiss her during Prime Queen (and zombizou but lmao i’m pretty sure we’re not counting that), and honestly? He wasn’t randomly trying to kiss her for no reason, it was a legitimate strategy for taking down Prime Queen. He tried to kiss her, she said no, and he backed off.

Is Ladybug annoyed? Yes. Absolutely. Does she look pressured, uncomfortable, or scared? Nope. Just annoyed.

He does try it a second time, but again, it is a strategy for fighting the akuma (and they were kind of in a desperate situation the second time, too). So honestly I can’t really blame him. And, again, he gave up when she, confidently and without fear or hesitation, said no.

And it should also be noted that Ladybug flirts back with Chat Noir sometimes! She’s totally comfortable around him, and the flirting isn’t necessarily what makes her uncomfortable. I honestly moreso get the sense that she’s annoyed at his timing more than anything else. Of course, she doesn’t have feelings for Chat Noir (at least she thinks she doesn’t lmao), but that doesn’t mean she can’t have some fun flirting with him, too. Platonic flirting, I guess.

(I tried to get a good screenshot of Ladybug winking at Chat in Stormy Weather and this was the best I got askfjsaklfj)

(again, awkward screenshot lol but she’s flicking his bell!)

So an important thing: Chat knows this. Chat Noir knows, for a fact, that Ladybug isn’t uncomfortable with him. I don’t get the sense that Chat Noir would continue his behavior around Ladybug if he ever felt like it was making her legitimately afraid or feel pressured. Chat Noir wants Ladybug to feel safe around him and he’d never do anything to violate that, and so far, I believe Ladybug does feel safe and comfortable around Chat Noir. So, despite his flirting, he has not done anything to violate that trust.

Also, a big thing….. Glaciator. Glaciator is the one time we see Ladybug legitimately and honestly sitting Chat Noir down and telling him flat out “I’m not interested in you.” And what’s his reaction?

Ummm… like the sweetest, most understanding response he could possibly have. He didn’t make her feel guilty for turning him down. He didn’t throw it back in her face. He didn’t claim the “friend zone”. In fact, he basically said “being your friend is a great honor, thank you”. So the idea that Chat Noir “doesn’t take no for an answer” really isn’t true.

And really? Chat Noir…. doesn’t flirt much with Ladybug after Glaciator. He still does, sure, but not as much as he did in Season 1, at least from my memory. (and don’t even get me started on how respectful he was to her in Sandboy, but that’s another story)

Basically, I get what your friend meant. In a different situation, the kind of behavior that Chat exhibits to Ladybug could be totally inappropriate… but within the context of their relationship? I think it’s okay. Because Ladybug is comfortable around Chat Noir, Ladybug will tell Chat if he’s making her feel cornered, and Chat Noir does know this and would stop if he felt like he was making Ladybug feel unsafe.

Should Chat Noir tone it down? Yeah, probably. But I think he is. And in the meantime, the worst he’s doing is being kind of obnoxious.

In conclusion, Ladynoir is still a good ship and is still based around a good sense of mutual respect and trust, and you shouldn’t feel bad for liking it.

[technoskittles]

Chat Blanc Theory - aka “I thought I was smart enough to figure something out for once but basically confuse myself by the end of this post”

okay I’ve been watching the Chat Blanc trailer obsessively (bc c’mon, we’ve been waiting for this FOREVER who wouldn’t?)

and I could be way off-base because this show typically throws me but like

does Marinette....know Chat’s identity now?

I mean, it wouldn’t really make sense considering that I’m pretty sure Chat Blanc is supposed to take place before the two finale episodes (which I am admittedly guilty of watching those because I’m impatient) though ML is also really notorious for their timeline being all over the place

 but like, here’s my reasoning:

Okay so Mari was sad about....something regarding Adrien it looks like cause she’s seen walking away from him. And she’s upset enough that an akuma is going after her

Also I think this is taking place outside of his house?

Which also makes me realize 2 other things, one of which I’ll get to later and the other one now

First realization is that maybe this DOES in fact take place after the finale timeline-wise because Marinette’s hair down is here (as seen in the above picture and this one here)

[[[[[[SPOILERS FOR LOVE EATER]]]]]]]

and Adrien says in Love Eater that it’s the first time he’s seen her with her hair down

So that means one of two things:

1) Chat Blanc takes place after the two-episode finale which makes the above statement of Adrien seeing Marinette’s hair down for the first time true

or 2) This is a result of inconsistent writing (which wouldn’t totally surprise me either)

I might be biased though because I do think the first option is more plausible for a multitude of reasons given what I’m discussing in this post

Now, going back to Marinette possibly finally finding out Chat’s identity, we go back to the scene where she’s walking away from his house. An akuma is going after her and Adrien, being the valiant yet fucking DUMBASS boi that he is transforms. Right. Fucking. There. to save her

To which Marinette is....very surprised by this whole thing. Which could very well mean that she knows that it was Adrien chasing after her and turns out to see him gone but Chat Noir instead? 

(also, side note: The Gorilla is very clearly standing in the doorway probably watching this all go down btw so he probably saw Adrien’s transformation too so like I said, this boi EXTRA DUMB)

Granted, this is all PURELY speculation because we’ve been juked before by trailers that tease possible reveals but I also still have a reason that, unlike the times before, this MIGHT have actually happened (which, again, I’ll get to in a sec)

But back to Marinette possibly knowing. So there’s a scene right before this where she, as Ladybug, drops off something in Adrien’s room signed by her as Marinette

Which also could have two explanations:

1) This is a love confession that happens prior to the Chat saving Mari scene and is what leads to him possibly turning her down which is why she gets so upset

OR

the one I personally think makes more sense...

2) This is a note from Marinette, who is now aware that Adrien is Chat Noir, thanking him for saving her from the akuma. However, this does still raise a few more questions like “Why doesn’t she just thank him as Marinette to his face?” “Why does she choose to drop this off as Ladybug and not as Marinette?” “Why do it like this when he’s not around for him to read later?”

The most plausible answer is that Marinette might still be shocked over the whole thing and maybe doesn’t know how to confront him and also...it’s Marinette. She’s a clever girl but also is still a teen so she doesn’t always necessarily think things through or consider what consequences may come after.

But then we get Adrien’s reaction to seeing Ladybug leave this behind and his face after reading it

(also dude what the fuck is going on with your shirt??)

but yeah, this? This is the look of someone who might have just figured out that Marinette is also Ladybug, aka the Love of His Life. 

So moving onto the other realization I had, Adrien transformed in front of his house right?

Well guess who else lives there???

THat’s right. HIS DAD, AKA HAWKMOTH

So it might be possible that Marinette isn’t the only one that knows about his secret identity, which would explain the scene of why Chat is down in the basement garden where Gabriel is keeping Adrien’s mother preserved

Which could also be when Adrien finds out that “holy shit Hawkmoth is my fucking DAD” and most likely when he gets akumatized

HOWEVER, once again, regarding the timeline, a lot of things don’t really make sense. If this episode is, in fact, supposed to take place after the finale, why would they air this one before it? Why not make THIS the finale? There’s a lot of big stuff going on, a lot of reveals happening....and although the finale definitely had some major moments, they all seem kind of lackluster (save for the one) compared to this. 

Plus, one of the most IMPORTANT things that happened in the finale would SURELY be mentioned in this episode somehow, right? (For anyone who’s seen the finale eps, you KNOW what I’m talking about.) So why would the people working on the show stress all the fans to avoid watching the early releases and insist on watching the episodes in order if the finale was potentially going to be spoiled anyway? Or that all the things that are supposedly happening in this episode aren’t brought up whatsoever in the finale??

This string of thoughts would perhaps be the biggest hole in my speculation because it all doesn’t make sense as a whole. Because either way you look at it, things just don’t make sense. If this episode really does happen after the finale, then the finale would’ve surely been spoiled because of the Big Thing™ if you were to watch the episodes in order.

But if this episode happens before the finale, then why isn’t any of this information brought up in the finale? If they really do know each other’s identities (or at least, if Mari knows Chat’s and Hawkmoth and Chat know each others’) then the finale just truly does not make any fucking sense.

(I mean, COME ON. This garden sanctuary containing his mom is underneath is own GODDAMN HOUSE. I know the boy is dense but that’s too fishy to not draw any connections. And since Adrien knows that Hawkmoth is kinda just hanging out and plotting in his house, whether he knows Hawkmoth’s identity or not, surely he would’ve told Ladybug where Hawkmoth is hiding.)

UNLESS

This episode really does take place before the finale timeline-wise, there is one possible explanation. 

So during this whole analysis, I’ve still been replaying that trailer to a) try and make sense of things and b) collect screenshots. On one of my rewatches, I realized something that had happened to quickly at one point for me to actually catch it.

During the part where the metal bowl is being taken off Ladybug’s head, we see a white figure walk past her but it’s kind of brief. Given the nature of the trailer and content of the episode as well as the scene it cuts to where Chat Blanc and Ladybug are fighting on what looks to be the same rooftop, naturally I figured that it was Chat who took the bowl off her head.

However, upon watching it numerous times, I noticed something. The person who takes the bowl off LB’s head? It’s not Chat Blanc...

...but this hoe (I forgot her superhero name if she had one I’m so sorry)

Which means....there’s some time travel fuckery going on next episode which means that almost everything I said prior to this means absolutely nothing in terms of the timeline

But, I do think it’s interesting to point out that it means that she probably brought LB to the future because it looks like they’re on the roof of the broadcasting building but there’s water around it for some reason? Which wouldn’t make any sense unless they were in a different time

Now what does all this mean? I have no fucking clue

My main guess is that Chat Blanc was such a problem that maybe he terrorized Paris well into the future? And that him being akumatized was an anomaly in the future we saw in Timetagger? 

But in terms of their identities being revealed? I do still think that’s what happened. But now because time travel is involved, it’s entirely possible that all of this was reversed somehow where the events leading to the reveals just...didn’t happen I guess.

I don’t know. I was really on a roll at the beginning of this post but whenever time travel gets thrown in I lose all traction. I’ve confused myself.

If you made it this far or bothered to read this at all, thanks. But now I’m just a confused idiot who has no idea what’s going on. Maybe someone smarter than me will figure all this out 

[lokiarsene]

like yesterday, here's a bullet list of my thoughts for episodes 18~21

thoughts on episode 18:

oh no, it's the beach episode.

-- i really like how they show the way the PT take care of futaba. ren patiently cleaning up her room in between hours at the florist, them playing vidya with her, or just having lunch together in montage moments is very sweet. it makes me wish the anime had much slower pacing, more slice of life-y kind of drama.

-- watching yusuke, ryuji, and futaba lose their freakin minds over good curry is VERY relatable.

-- i still don't understand why ann and makoto thought that a two piece frilly bathing suit was the way to go with futaba. a one piece that she could wear under a long wrap or a hoodie would've made so much more sense... but >male gaze

-- have i told y'all how fucking tired i am of the sexualization of the teenage girls in p5 yet, and how it is one of the several things that fuckin ruined this game for me

have i?

well here it is again

none of the previous games were as bad as this b t w and p4 had one of the dungeons be a STRIP CLUB.

-- yusuke and his lobsters are wonderful.

-- oh god i forgot COMPLETELY about the whole 'mental shutdowns' thing in this game's plot. i think because it's all so pointlessly convoluted. p3 had something similar but even there it was just people turned catatonic for weeks on end when the monthly boss-shadows drew near.

i think the reason i find this so hard to understand is because from p3 to p4 the rules of shadows didn't really change so much. p3 had the persona users go up against shadow bosses; p4 had people confront the shadows within themselves, either accepting them completely (which then turned into persona), or the shadow 'absorbed' the person and ran rampant as a monster. neither of those rules really contradict each other, but in p5 personal shadows for persona users are gone completely, and how you deal with other people's personal shadows doesn't even involve them being present to complete the merge.

mona says that persona users can't have palaces, but persona users in 4 could and DID have 'dungeons' within the shadows' worlds. these dungeons dealt specifically with what was at the core of the shadows' emergence--a deep secret and a hidden truth that caused the shadow to grow, a place that was a replica and a distortion of reality based upon that suppressed truth. so that sure sounds like a fucking palace to me.

so....................... unless there's like, multiple realities folded into our own, and persona users can only access certain ones.................. i'm just super confused.

like, i know it's because the rules change game to game, but p3 to p4 didn't have any contradictions, and p2 didn't contradict anything in p3, either. it just went from a full party of wild card users to a singular one.

-- i'm glad ann's getting a little screentime here. i was just thinking about how other characters' development was lacking after makoto and futaba got so much focus.

-- mona's so sweet to ann ;-; now that he has a human form in p5r, i hope they become really good friends. she needs a kind guy friend that'll be reliable~ plus he makes her laugh.

-- sojiro talking about the anniversary of wakaba's death is......... really interesting........ considering that screenshot of futaba sitting next to a woman with the exact same haircut as her "deceased" mother.

-- ren reassuring mona that he absolutely has to be human, that he will return to who he used to be once they figure out what's happening in the metaverse is jsut jdfklasd

AND HIS LIL ROUND OF APPLAUSE WHEN MONA TALKS ABOUT ALL THE THINGS HE'S GOING TO DO TO KEEP THE WORLD SAFE ;-;

AND THAT SHOT OF HIM SLEEPING CURLED UP ON REN'S STOMACH

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

-- listen i know mona isn't rly a cat but he's the BEST cat

thoughts on episode 19:

oh it's the hawaii episode.

-- man what the hell kinda budget do these school's got that they can just go overseas with dozens of students on a yearly basis? that's impressive.

-- ryuji: "whoa, awesome! ..... i don't really get it, but awesome!" fjdsafds okay that got a laugh outta me. good one, ryuji.

-- ren: "i'm excited, too." (said in a monotone) fjklsadsl BLESS THIS BOY

-- ren's FACE when he learns that futaba installed a spying app on his phone and can hear him/see pictures he takes is...... kind of hilarious. especially if you have the headcanon that he and akechi send dumbass snapchats to each other a lot--which i do. and which you do now, too.

-- mona's depression is ten times more sad because he's a cat okay :c why they gotta make the cat so cute

-- ren, ryuji, and ann's lil sleepover is adorable. especially since ann chastises ryuji for not knowing one of the basic rules of a sleepover: if you start talkin' about your crushes, you gotta start with your own~ thems the rules lads

-- rip principal bloatneck.

-- honestly that truck shoulda at least TRIED to stop.

-- "A LO HA." goddammit that's adorable

AND HE GIVES THE LEI NECKLACE TO MONA FJDSKFJDSKL ren you're so SWEET.

-- I TOTALLY FORGOT THAT MONA CALLS SAE "ONEE-NO-NIIJIMA" FJADSKLFJDSKL ahhhh it's so cute.

-- the PT targeting okumura, who is essentially the dave thomas with political ambitions of the persona 5 world, is far funnier now that i phrase it like that.

-- ANN, OF ALL FUCKING PEOPLE, SAYING THAT THEY PROBABLY BROUGHT THIS RECENT TROUBLE ON THEMSELVES, IS A FUCKING STUPID WRITING DECISION. I CAN'T BELIEVE SOMEONE DIDN'T LOOK AT THAT AND GO, "ANN WOULDN'T SAY THIS. ANN HAS NO REASON TO SAY IT." god. lmao PLEASe let p5r be a goddamn second draft.

-- mona's totally right that ryuji's just concerned with getting popular and his dick wet. like,,, that's why this argument only made me hate ryuji more than i already did. he gets pissy when mona points out the truth.

god he sucks lmao

I'M SORRY I'M SO SALTY YOU GUYS

LOOK I'LL SAY SOMETHING NICE: SAE AND AKECHI ARE COOL

-- i really like how guarded akechi's face looks in his conversation with sae, and how off his guard he looks when she tells him that she's not going to hold back, especially since the culprit is doing such dire, awful things. he's not exactly surprised, but he's definitely uneasy and shaken by what he hears. which makes me wonder who he’s really concerned for--himself, or for ren (and the PT by extension, but akechi only really seems to care about ren, so).

the reason i like that is because the okumura arc in p5 is really where akechi's mind starts its downward spiral. principal kobayakawa's death obviously rattled him, especially since the only reason the principal died was because shido saw him as useless and disposable, something akechi is desperate NEVER TO BE. and it's that + what happens with okumura that really kicks him over the edge.

i hope p5r will give us the chance to pull him back from it. he deserves a better chance than the game's subpar writing gave to him.

thoughts on episode 20:

-- ren wakes up in a panic because he thinks he sees mona on his bed ;___________;

-- goro snoopin' on the PT's LOUD, TOTALLY CONSPICUOUS conversation in front of okumura foods' HQ is kind of adorable if you remember he clearly loves star wars (HE HAS A LIGHT SABER), and the camera cuts to his face right as they're talking about big bang and outer space lingo.

-- oh, haru. i really wish you were the black mask. that would've been so much cooler--and an actual twist. her total hopeless panic about being a beauty thief could still be a thing (because it is actually endearing), it'd just be an act. but that's me talkin' fix-its again.

-- i really like the scene of haru defending mona to the PT on the rooftop, then cutting to show just how strained her relationship is with her father. she exists to be useful to her father's ambitions and nothing else, and that scene really drove home just how painful that is for her.

-- REN TWIRLS HIS HAIR BETWEEN TWO FINGERS WHEN HE'S DEEP IN THOUGHT. AHHHHHHH I FORGOT HE DID THAT

-- oh hey remember how the game went through the trouble of showing how haru's fiance is a sexist, violent, animal-hurting piece of shit and then promptly failed to actually separate her from him in game (i think you only can do that in her s-link?? the s-link you can barely finish in your first run of the game??), and in t hEN SHOWED HER IN THE CAR WITH HIM LATER, LOOKING HORRIBLY UNCOMFORTABLE?

god this story makes me so fucking mad lmfao STOP PUTTING GIRLS IN PHYSICALLY OR SEXUALLY VIOLENT PERIL AND NEVER ACTUALLY ENSURING THAT THEY'RE SAFE, YOU DAVID CAGE LEVEL OF HACK BULLSHIT WRITERS.

-- ryuji running into the attic, all worried about mona, with a first aid kit, is..... very good. very good and endearing. good on you, ryuji.

-- haru gently encouraging mona to tell the truth is also really good. idk if i just missed it in the game or what, but i really like how she's presented in the anime. she's like a counterpart to ren--soft, sincere, observant, patient, yet she's made of pure steel beneath all that.

thoughts on episode 21:

-- WHY WAS HARU'S GRANDFATHER GIVING COFFEE TO A FIVE YEAR OLD

-- haru, the reason your father's heart grew twisted is thanks to capitalism. you gotta change the heart of capitalism.

-- not to be all poochie here but whenever akechi isn't on screen, all i can ask myself is whERE'S AKECHI?

-- HOW CAN I TAKE THE EVIL DAVE THOMAS SERIOUSLY WHEN HE'S DRESSED LIKE FUCKIN MEGAMIND?

-- okay see this is where i'm thrown completely out of the story or even really liking haru. haru just listened to her dad's shadow saying he would PIMP HER OUT TO HER FIANCE WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT. and she still is just like ~no i want him to go back to being kind~

bitch are you nuts

are you NUTS

youR DAd SHOULD DIE AND YOU'D BE BETTER OFF

CONSIDERING HOW THE GAME GOES, YOU ARe BETTER OFF

god. i'm getting so mad again lmao

-- ren approaching haru to point out that if the truth of her father's crimes comes to light, she'll forever be associated with him (and with all the harm and ruined reputation that brings) is, once again, further reminder of just how... damn good ren is. he doesn't hesitate to speak from the heart nor does he ever fail to listen to someone else speak from theirs.

-- also not for nothing but uh

how did the cops not like

figure out how the PT phan-site was set up within the first few months and track it down to mishima? was that ever addressed at all?

-- honestly another reason why i get so fucking mad about this okumura stuff is the game goes SO FAR OUT OF ITS WAY to make you feel BAD that he died, when he was by all rights a fucking shitheel monster, yet when akechi dies it's like 'oh well. that sucked.' fuck off, atlus. the death of a greedy, heartless CEO isn't more sad just because his gaslit daughter is conditioned to be sad about it.

i understand that a large part of the shock after okumura's death is because the PT don't know if they did anything wrong. but okumura was in no way a good person. he was in no way a person whose redemption overruled all the hurt and harm he did. that has been the case for EVERY PT target before this, so why the fuck is okumura suddenly so different? why SHOULD he be?

the difference between him and, say, akechi is that okumura et. al. all made those choices on their own to do terrible things. they delighted in it, they enjoyed it. but akechi, much like futaba, was forced into a cycle of self-destruction--it’s just that in futaba’s case, her self-destruction targeted herself, and akechi’s was quite literally weaponized and used against others. he approached shido as a young teenager and was then used by him for years.

a teenage boy being used as a magical hitman by his shitlord father is far more deserving of sympathy and redemption than grown adults who willingly make the decision to harm, abuse, and prey on others. but no, the game didn’t want to do that.

this is another big problem i have with p5's second and third acts: it's so tonally dissonant and sloppy. it's like they didn't try to actually be as rebellious and hellraiser-y as the first act WANTED to be, and it all ends up being such a limp-dick shriveled mess of "let's fight against this rotten society!! ......... as long as it in no way actually upsets anyone or does any REAL change." fuck off lmao

that's not me even commenting on the "twist" and how it needed to be explained MULTIPLE TIMES to the player for it to make any sense.

and it still doesn't make sense to me btw.

so that's another thing i hope p5r fixes.

-- rip evil dave thomas megamind.

-- akechi floating the idea to sae that the phantom thieves had nothing to do with okmura’s death is............................ interesting.

[commander-yinello]

JuminZen Week Day 2 - Cats & Dogs

@juminzenweek Based on something that actually happened to me in real life... confusing my friend’s cat for something else jlsdkdslkjdkj xD I hope you enjoy! More under the cut <3

Cool raindrops hit his face as he exited the theater. Zen pulled his jacket up to shield his neck and mentally prepared himself for walking through the rain when something in the corner of his eye seemed to move. Turning his head, he saw the alley beside the building, littered with empty bottles, plastic bags, torn up fliers and a small cardboard box. It was nothing unusual.

Except the box moved.

Zen walked over to it and very carefully opened the flaps, desperately hoping it was just a trick of his imagination and not a huge angry rat that would bite his face off. What he saw instead, he almost thought it was a rat at first, was a wrinkled, completely furless, small animal staring up at him with big dark eyes. Its ears, too large for such a tiny head, were poised stiff and made Zen think of a dog. It backed away into a corner, scared of the giant human looming over it.

“Hello little one, why are you out here?”

There was a dirty blanket in the box, making Zen suspect someone had put this animal here. When its body shivered from what had to be both fear and the cold, Zen’s heart broke.

“You sure aren’t the prettiest puppy, are you? But that doesn’t mean you should be out here.”

Zen took off his scarf and placed it in the box, hoping it could warm up the poor thing. With no effort, he picked the box up, the puppy weighing nothing. While heading home, he noticed how the puppy started to shiver less but never stopped staring.

***

Tuesday, 20:21 - Jumin Han, Yoosung★, Jaehee Kang, 707

- ZEN has entered the chatroom -

Jaehee Kang: Hello Zen ^_^

Yoosung★: Hi Zen!

707: Actor man! ヾ(⌐■_■)ノ♪

ZEN: Hey all ZEN: What, no hello for me Trust Fund?

Jumin Han: If you insist. Jumin Han: Hello Zen.

ZEN: -.-

707: lolololol

ZEN: Whatever, I don’t have time for your bullshit now

Yoosung★: Oh brb guys, raid pull

ZEN: Guys, I need some advice ZEN: Have any of you ever owned a dog? ZEN: Don’t bother answering Jerkmin

Jumin Han: C&R has a branch that imports dog food.

ZEN: What did I just say

707: Who needs a dog when you got the lovely Elly~! ♥‿♥

Jumin Han: Her name isn’t Elly and I would like to remind you of the restriction order.

707: Ellllyyyyyy ;___;

Jaehee Kang: I can’t imagine owning any pet right now. But a dog? Why do you ask?

ZEN: Thank you for being the only normal one Jaehee ZEN: I found a puppy. I found him in the alley next to my theater in a box

707: :0

Jaehee Kang: In a box? :o In this weather?

ZEN: Yeah, ikr? Some people are heartless. Dumping a puppy in the rain?

707: D=

ZEN: I brought him inside

Jaehee Kang: That’s Zen’s kindness <3

707: Say the word and I will try to track the asshole down, Zen

Jumin Han: It’s good that you did that, but make sure you have food for it as well as a towel. Jumin Han: Assistant Kang, look up the nearest shelter for dogs.

ZEN: Obviously I already did all that, you jerk! D:<< ZEN: What I wanted to ask is if anyone knows about dog illnesses, because of the fact the puppy looks strange, I’m worried

Jaehee Kang: Strange how?

ZEN: He seems to be missing his fur? Like all of it? And he doesn’t seem to like the food I set out for him. I’m scared he’s very sick, maybe that’s why he got dumped ZEN: He looks like a wrinkled shirt tbh ZEN: I guugled a bit and maybe he has mange? But I’m not sure cuz Guugle images seem different ZEN: He’s really sweet though, he won’t stop climbing on my lap and making these odd rhythmic sounds

Jumin Han: …Like a motorboat?

ZEN: Yeah, kinda. How did you guess?

Jaehee Kang: Maybe Yoosung might know. Do you have a photo?

ZEN: Of course I had to make a selfie with me and Adonis

707: Pfff Adonis, really

ZEN: Of course, he’s just as handsome as me~

ZEN: <IMG309094888>

ZEN: Two lost souls, beautiful yet abandoned, finding each other~~~~ ZEN: The apartment is small but I think I might keep him.

707: …

Jaehee Kang: Err Jaehee Kang: Zen

707: SJDDSKKDJSDSJKSDKSDJJKSDKJSD

ZEN: ???

Yoosung★: Back! Yoosung★: Oh Zen, you adopted a Sphynx! I didn’t expect that of you

ZEN: A what

707: LOOOOOOOOL 707: A CAT 707: ZEN ADOPTED A CAT 707: AND HE THINKS IT IS A DOG

ZEN: Stop making bad jokes Luciel!

Jaehee Kang: Seven is right, Zen. Jaehee Kang: That is a cat.

ZEN: But… the lack of fur?

Yoosung★: Sphynx cats are a completely furless species!

ZEN: But….. I didn’t sneeze or anything!

Yoosung★: Yeah, they can’t shed hair, so your allergies don’t react as heavily

Jumin Han: Sphynx cats are a unique breed, you are quite lucky to have found one. Jumin Han: Whoever abandoned him is truly a monster.

ZEN: …I can’t believe this

707: LMAOOOOOOOOOO 707: I’m screenshotting this chatroom

Yoosung★: How did you not know it’s a cat???

ZEN: I never owned a dog or a cat, okay?! ZEN: I’m used to cats being these fluffy balls that force me to sneeze ZEN: Ugh my nose just started to itch!

Jumin Han: Zen, make sure Adonis get frequent baths, either twice or once a month depending on how active he is. Jumin Han: Make sure to take proper care of his eyes and ears, because of his lack of hair. Jumin Han: Also keep him warm, always indoors - you can clothe him during cold seasons. Jumin Han: I will message you this comprehensive guide.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han, I didn’t know you knew so much about Sphynx cats.

Jumin Han: I have researched and categorized every known breed of cat in my personal library.

Jaehee: Kang: Of course. What was I thinking.

ZEN: I

Jumin Han: Cat food ideally with 35% protein and 25% fat. I recommend the brand NutriKitty

ZEN: !! ZEN: What does it matter what kind of cat food when the stores are closed, dumbass!

Yoosung★: I would use the cardboard box as temporary kitty litter box Zen, just throw some dirt in it Yoosung★: As for food…

Jumin Han: There is no need to worry about any of that. Jumin Han: I am on my way with a litterbox, the appropriate cat food, clothes and toys. Jumin Han: Please open the door in 2 minutes and 11 seconds, Zen.

ZEN: WHAT

Yoosung★: Wow Jumin doesn’t waste time Yoosung★: He has a spare litter box?

Jaehee Kang: There’s 2 alone in my house and 1 in my office =__=

707: Jumin, I want one!!

Jumin Han: You can buy your own. Also, restraining order. Jumin Han: 1 minute and 20 seconds.

ZEN: Damn it Trust Fund!!! Are you for real right now?!

Yoosung★: But Jumin, you don’t live that close to Zen right?

Jumin Han: I suspected Zen was in possession of one of the world’s most marvelous creatures and told Driver Kim to start the car.

ZEN: I have a right mind not to let you in

Jumin Han: Zen, prepare to open the door in 30 seconds.

ZEN: STOP IGNORING WHAT I’M SAYING

Jaehee Kang: Good luck Zen ;;;;

707: hmmm if Jumin is away from Elly (¬‿¬)

Yoosung★: You are never going to get past the bodyguards lol

707: they say you can’t win if you don’t try~!

Jaehee Kang: oml Jaehee Kang: Don’t bother, she’s with me right now. Jaehee Kang: Tempting as it is to let you take her, I won’t put my job at risk.

707: \(!!˚☐˚)/ 707: ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡

Yoosung★: lmao

***

Exactly as 30 seconds passed, Zen’s doorbell rang. The actor groaned and gently pushed Adonis off his lap, who stared at him and the door with wide eyes from the couch, large ears perked up. Zen couldn’t help but smile at the adorable thing while he headed to the front door.

Opening it a large, heavy bag of kitty litter was shoved right into his arms.

“Put that somewhere where you would like the litterbox to be,” Jumin instantly ordered him, holding the plastic litterbox in one hand and a fancy shopping bag in the other. Zen thought that had the be the fanciest and shiniest brand name he ever saw on a bag.

“Jesus, Jumin! You can’t just drop by and barge in whenever you feel like!” Zen said, standing aside as Jumin ‘barged in’ by walking through Zen’s open door.

After the stoic businessman placed the litterbox on the ground, he put the bag on the kitchen table and started taking out cans and what looked like tiny sweaters and hats. “You said you needed help. I’m here to help.”

“Advice! I wanted advice!” Zen huffed, dropping the heavy litter on the floor with a ‘thunk’. Someone passed by giving him a curious glance, and he quickly closed the door.

“You admitted yourself the stores are closed. A litterbox and food are basic needs for a cat, Zen. At least accept them for the night.”

Zen fell quiet at that. Just as Jumin was done filling his entire table with all kinds of cat things that made Zen’s nose tingle, the businessman was suddenly distracted by a hairless kitten carefully staring at them, hiding as much of his body behind a pillow. Adonis must have gotten scared from all the yelling, Zen realized, and felt guilty.

“Is that him?” Jumin asked in awe and already strode to the couch. The kitten fell on his side, startled by the new presence, but upon Jumin offering his hand the cat’s childish curiosity won

Zen swore he saw a smile on Jumin’s face as Adonis sniffed his fingertips. “You’re right, he is quite handsome.”

“Of course he is,” Zen boasted. While Jumin was busy winning over Adonis’ heart, the actor grabbed the bowl on the floor with barely touched dog kibble. Soon it was replaced with Jumin’s overpriced kitty food and he set it near the couch on the floor.

The reaction was instantaneous, Adonis forgot everyone and everything around him, jumping down to shove his face into the bowl, devouring the food.

Zen sighed. “Thanks Jumin, he must have been starving.”

Sitting on the couch, Jumin watched the kitten eat. “He looks healthy. You have a vet visit planned?”

“Of course. What do you take me for?”

Only the tiny sounds of munching filled the air. Jumin kept staring intently at the tiny creature, and Zen’s irritation slowly dissolved. Somehow, he felt the urge to sit next to Jumin and waved the bizarre feeling away. Right after, seeing his newly discovered cat brought about more worrisome thoughts.

“Jumin… I was thinking. Maybe you should adopt him.”

Jumin straightened his back to look at Zen. “You said you wanted to keep him.”

“I considered it, but I know less about cats than dogs. What if I end up hurting him?” Cat or not, Zen couldn’t handle the idea of any animal suffering under his care. His heart raced from the thought of it alone. He bit his lip, hating this sudden anxious feeling. “He would be safer with you, we both know it.”

It was then Adonis was done with his meal, having licked every part of the bowl until he was certain there wasn’t a trace of kibble left. Then, he jumped on the couch, sniffing Jumin for a second before climbing on top of the armrest to demand attention from Zen. Zen couldn’t resist petting the little wrinkled baby.

“There is a saying that the pet chooses the owner and not the other way around. He clearly prefers you. He doesn’t trigger your allergies, he’s not going outgrow your apartment, isn’t he perfect for you?” Jumin countered, scratching Adonis on his back, causing the spoiled kitten to throw on his loud motorboat purr.

Zen had expected Jumin to accept instantly, so the actor was at a loss for words. Since when was the cat freak so nice anyway? It flustered him, causing Jumin to chuckle.

It’s almost like… we’re family, Zen thought, and Jumin must have thought the same, for the moment passed and everything suddenly felt awkward. At once, Jumin halted his petting and stood up, brushing off his suit from non-existent fur. “Rest assured that if you do mistreat the cat, I will inform the police in seconds.”

“Wha-“

“And of course, we must arrange playdates for your cat and my Elizabeth.”

In protest, Zen picked up his kitten, Adonis struggling lightly out of confusion and finally resting his paws against Zen’s chest. “What! As if I’d let my kitten anywhere near your furball! Ugh, my nose is itching again!”

Jumin rolled his eyes. “Excuse you, Elizabeth is a very refined and beautiful cat that yours could learn a lot from.

“Adonis is more beautiful than your bag of fleas ever will be!” Any trace Zen ever had of giving his pet away gone, the actor holding his cat possessively against his chest.

Zen saw the future CEO’s lips curl into a small smile before it dropped off again. “She is a queen amongst commoners. Anyone with sense would agree.” Jumin lifted his sleeve, revealing an expensive-looking watch. “I have stayed here far too long. I’m late for my evening appointment.”

Jumin, late for an appointment? Zen wondered if Jumin would risk annoying a client for a cat. Yes, of course he would. Though Zen knew he would have done the same.

“Good, get out you home invader!” Zen said, acting like he was chasing Jumin out while Jumin already opened his door.

“See you soon, Zen.” Jumin waved.

“Oh come on!” Something told Zen he wasn’t going to get out of those playdates.

After Zen shut the door behind the businessman, he sighed - out of relief, he told himself, not because of anything else. Adonis proceeded to climb onto his shoulders and Zen wondered how he could have possibly thought he was a puppy.

Hmpf, of course Jumin thinks his stupid cat is prettier. He knew he should start practicing his lines as normal, but Zen proceeded to snap more selfies of him and Adonis together and posting them in the chatroom for good measure.

***

Wednesday, 8:37 - Yoosung★, Jaehee Kang, 707, MC

MC: What’s this I read about Zen adopting a cat???

Jaehee Kang: It’s a long story

707: An amazing one!!

Yoosung★: You missed the battle of the cat selfies yesterday. Yoosung★: Jumin’s blurry photos didn’t make sense tho o.o;;

707: I have saved every single one for my Cat Tripter account!

Jaehee Kang: Thankfully they stopped.

707: They didn’t, they went over to private messaging lolol

MC: Awww, I wanna see

707: How long do you think before they plan a date?

Jaehee Kang: A… date for their cats?

707: Suuuuure let’s go with that

MC: I bet not long! ;D

Yoosung★: If that’s true, then Jaehee might have to catsit two cats lol

Jaehee Kang: (⊃д⊂)!!! Noooo spare me!!

MC: Don’t worry Jaehee! I will help you! (=^･ｪ･^=))ﾉ彡☆

707: Why does Jaehee get to live the dream and not meeeeee ;___;

Yoosung★: Guys I was joking ;;;;;;

[trashunlimited]

the complete history of julie’s development

(and some other stuff too)

i was thinking about making this post because i actually have a lot to say in regards to this?

@nightshade1994, @glampyra

so, i started watching rnm back in around may 2014, when i was still 13 years old. while the show currently has three seasons with a fourth in production, back then we only had season one, which is what most of the info surrounding julie is based on.

the character of mrs.sanchez(rick’s wife) is still elusive as hell, even more so back then. all the show really told us was:

she is no longer around for whatever reason

rick left her for an unspecified reason

which isn’t really much to go off of. but people were still making versions of her back then, and i wanted to get in it on. julie started out as a design really, nothing more, and her name was “tatiana” back then. but i decided instead to switch to an english name, and she was renamed “juliana”, or just julie for short(which is actually the french form of julia).

i ended up coming up with ideas for julie’s personality, but what really inspired me was when i was looking through a now dead rick and morty confessions blog, and someone posted a confession that they thought maybe the reason rick is so attached to morty to begin with, is because morty reminds him of his wife. both characters being shy, cute and awkward, but his wife also being this really sweet and kind person. that was basically the basis of julie’s personality that i expanded on over the years.

i still have that confession saved too

with the way mrs.sanchez is presented, it’s clear she’s dead. however, 13/14 year old me was not about that shit, and i opted to keep her alive. the explanation is she ran away to look for rick, and ended up becoming some badass bounty hunter type. i still have this pic i made back in 2014 of her bounty hunter look(pictured with rick):

my dumbass preferred her over the younger julie(because she’s cooler or whatever), and i kept her like this for a while, and for a short time, i got rid of the bounty hunter thing but still kept her alive, before coming to the tragic conclusion she had to be killed off. it fucking hurt, but it was the realistic option and i knew i had to do it.

since then, julie’s been in a continuous development, and she only has gotten better, as i’ve gotten better at character creation.

onto her design

julie was made to be conventionally attractive, i mean look at her daughter and rick

it’s clear, beth takes over rick in terms of personality, and her mother in appearance.

i made julie a redhead because it’s meant to explain where summer’s red hair comes from, both parents need to carriers of the red hair gene in order for it to pass onto the offspring...and even then...it’s really recessive, which is why only a small amount of people have it. beth carries the red hair gene from her mother, and jerry carries it from a direct relative of his.

julie has a small button nose to explain where morty’s nose shape comes from. beth’s nose shape is explained as being a combination of julie’s nose and rick’s nose, it goes down like rick’s, and is rounded like julie’s.

(reference pics i have)

her hairstyle was also made to reflect her shyness(with a whole side of her face being covered) and her femininity, as it’s long and very neat.

her outfits are also meant to properly look like outfits from the 70s, the particular decade julie comes from. these pictures of outfits from the 70s inspired julie’s:

and since julie is feminine, of course her outfits reflect this too.

julie’s design hasn’t changed drastically, i mainly just redesigned her outfits, the one she had for the longest with a violet sundress and brown boots, but i changed it because it was too plain and not 70s enough. looking back at this old traced thing i made, also back in 2014, julie’s hairstyle appears to be slightly different too. and rick’s skin was wayyy too damn light, i think i just chose a bad screenshot to take his skin colour from at the time.

i even redid julie’s elderly design, in the au where she lives, and also redid that top picture of rick and julie from years ago:

(now rick and julie are even wearing their wedding rings!) and julie looks skinny and has a younger-looking body because rick used some anti-aging serum on her. now elderly julie is a stereotypical grandma who bakes cookies and knits cute sweaters for you. where’s that damn “julie lives” au.

i redid that other picture too.

i think i should also bring up julie’s friends because they are important too.

i did mention before that the earliest version of how rick and julie met was because of julie’s friends dragging her to a bar. one of the friends wanted julie to socialize more, this became vivian, and another girl who was a party animal named hilda, who i scrapped completely. another friend of julie’s that was scrapped was sandra, who was supposed to be the friend julie could talk about “girly stuff” with. i scrapped them out of a lack of ideas.

as for mark, i wanted a character who was reasonable and julie could go to for advice, and i made him a male to balance out the three female characters. he was made a hippie because my ass couldn’t resist including one. a significant part of mark’s backstory is him being a victim of child abuse, and the inspiration for this comes a tragic place.

child abuse is a very personal thing for me, not because i was a victim of it, but because both, yes, both of my parents were victims of it themselves. they faced physical and emotional abuse growing up, and had to deal with a lot of other shit in their younger years that i won’t go into detail about. i really wanted to make a character that was a victim of abuse, and at first, it was handed over to julie, but i couldn’t bring myself to do it, and i liked the idea of a big part of why julie is the way she is because is because her parents had a very positive influence on her. so it got handed to mark instead, who i didn’t have much backstory in mind for at the time.

i can’t believe i’m saying this, but initially there was a point when there was a love triangle. look, i’ve said it multiple times but i initially created julie when i was 13/14, i didn’t know any better. when i finally realized how dumb it was, i scrapped it, along with the character in the love interest, also vying for julie’s affections, named kent. the story revolving around this was how it was for the longest time too and i’m so fucking embarrassed holy shit.

at one point, julie also had a younger brother who was named charlie(julie was born in 1951, and i think he was supposed to be born in either 1952 or 1953). he didn’t last long and was scrapped too, i didn’t want there to be a whole other side to the smith family they were either:

completely unaware of

OR

knew they existed and didn’t care about them for whatever reason

i gave charlie black hair, and to this day, the design i have in mind for julie’s mother has black hair too, i just think it looks good on her. at the end of the day, scrapping him was really good in the long run, mark and julie, who both don’t have siblings, see themselves as brother and sister, and it adds to their bond. it also reinforces julie’s loneliness, and the reason i have in mind that about julie’s innocent nature is because her parents were protective, because julie’s mother suffered a miscarriage a year after julie was born and was rendered infertile. her parents didn’t want to lose their only biological child after all.

i don’t have too much to say about vivian, she’s always been fairly constant, except she used to be a lot bitchier, but i opted to make her nicer, even if it doesn’t come off that way. i also always had the idea of her and mark being paired together, i just liked the idea of putting a character with a short-temper and a character with a mild-temper character. their relationship is more subtle than rick/julie.

once i branched away from the love triangle shit, the story needed to change, and i started out trying to incorporate the galactic federation into it. but it wasn’t very...successful...

i came up with the idea for the fyralogin empire because i thought it would make sense for the universe to have a great power before the federation replaced it. so they were represented as a dying empire on it’s last legs, struggling to hold onto power.

i don’t have too much else to say from this point on. but as you can see, julie, her friends and the story itself went through a lot before reaching their current point, and...i think it’s all for the better.

[jillmckenzie1]

The Silver Lining – Online Dating on the Road

Once upon a time, in a galaxy not so far away, I came across a guy on Bumble who immediately proclaimed in his bio that faith was the number quality that he was looking for in a woman. Okay. He then proceeded to say how much he loved positivity and hated photo filters: “Real is beautiful.” You got it, bud. I second the filter hate train. I mean, I’ll send you a dumbass video of me with cheeseburgers circling around my head, but a hard no on the cat ears for public visibility. In true Stephanie fashion, I led with: “Should I start sending all my Snapchat filter selfies now or later?” (don’t worry, the answer is yes, I do amuse myself). Here’s the part where you sit back, relax, and enjoy the show. His response: “Funny, Funny. I wonder what a vagina looks like filtered? Huh [insert light bulb emoji]. I have an idea. Test it out for us. Send me one both ways. I’ll let you know [insert smiley face emoji].”

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

Yep, this actually happened. Seriously. I responded and questioned why, on any planet in any point in time, he believed this response would be an acceptable way to speak to a woman. Ever. I recall using words like “disgusting” and “degrading” (I’m sure the screenshot is somewhere deep in the abyss of my iPhotos if you need evidence). His response? He was joking. Right. Super funny, dude. Real funny. Report. Block. Terminate. Bye.

If you’re single, you’re not surprised by this story. If you’re in a relationship, I hope to God you are completely astounded. And, while I often think dating apps are the absolute devil, it is also the current means to an end. Are you even a real single person if you are not on a dating app? Not even kidding. Okay, slight over exaggeration, but truly, never in our wildest teen years did us 30-something-year-olds imagine using our phones to score a significant other (AIM, sure, but not our phones).

So, I exist in my current reality. Fact: I’m single. Fact: I’m transient. Fact: I’d like to be in a relationship. Fact: I don’t care whether or not that relationship exists in a transient or stationary state. So, yes, if our vibe is high and you want to hop in the Airstream and explore every end of the earth, great. If you work in a job you love in a city that you call home, ask me to stay. Let’s ride the wave. Together. Because, seriously, doing life with someone who really gets you better than anyone else ever could is the real damn deal.

Back to dating. I don’t think anyone actually dates anymore. I am actually convinced that it’s not really a thing these days. There’s like pre-dating in which you entertain the idea of actually dating. And then there is friend-zoning or jumping deep into the abyss of quasi-matrimony. I speak with experience from the former, not the latter. And, mark my words, “friends with benefits” is so hot right now. I actually went toe-to-toe with two guy friends at a bar last weekend in a pursuit to convince them that the typical Millennial male is more often than not seeking a friend with whom he can simply have sex than an actual committed relationship (let’s just say they didn’t disagree). Because, I actually do believe that most men do not want to sleep around with handfuls of random girls. They seem to be perplexed by their own paradoxical existence of not wanting anything serious (i.e. being forced to attend your grandma’s 80th birthday with you) while simultaneously wanting to have sex as much as humanly possible.

Let me present to you exhibit A.

I moved to Denver in my Airstream last spring. I met a guy on Bumble who happened to be on the way to a bachelor party for the weekend. I assumed we would engage in an hour-long text conversation that would end with him asking me to send nudes or with him sending me a completely unsolicited dick pic (because, yes, as you can assume from the above scenario, guys really do that). I’d tell him to (a) Google a nude, any nude (most certainly not mine), if that’s what he wanted, or (b) I’d cuss him out for exposing himself like a disturbed and arrogant asshole, and I’d add another tally to my list of douchebags found in the wild.

Welp, surprisingly, he proved me wrong. Beyond that, he actually seemed interested in who I was as a human being, and he proceeded to text me non-stop over the course of the weekend. While at a bachelor party (I feel that this detail needs repeating).

So, he returns home three days later and we commit to actually meeting face to face (like, whoa). And, for lack of a better word, it’s flawless. We’re super funny together (priority one), conversation is natural, and chemistry is fire. We hang out for a few weeks, which inevitably leads to sex. Immediately, he drops the bomb: let’s be friends. Let’s. Be. Friends? Oh wait, I’m sorry, correction, let’s be BEST friends. Perfect. Great. Because, I’m really lacking in the best friend department (insert massive eye roll here).

At this point, I assume it will die out. I assume that he used the nice guy “let’s be friends” card in an attempt to save my feelings and he will vanish as quickly as he had appeared. But, no. He quite literally continues to pursue my friendship. For a month he asks me to do nearly everything with him. He also proceeds to pay for everything: climbing, concerts, movies. Let’s note here that he also proceeds to take my clothes off on a semi-regular basis (despite his constant commentary on us needing rules to prevent such happenings). Final bomb: after a Luke Bryan concert, while sitting on a bench enveloped by a Colorado night sky, he tells me that he loves my soul. I’m sorry, what? Like, we are dating, bro. We. Are. DATING. I don’t care what you title me, but let’s call this thing by its Urban Dictionary definition. He follows up this statement with the fact that I simply deserve better. One, I think I am being dumped for the first time without ever actually having been in an established relationship. Two, fuck off. No one gets to tell me what I deserve. I decide that. So, no, I don’t deserve better. You simply deserve less based on your own evaluation of whatever this thing is that we’re doing. Say that, please. Own that.

So, spring came. And, spring went.

Summer roared in like a lion, and I committed myself to rock faces and mountain peaks, two things that I find to be (surprisingly) much more predictable than men. I also dove even deeper into my work (don’t worry, the digital dating gods still delivered amidst my commitment to my professional projects).

Enter exhibit B.

As a freelance creative director and brand strategist, I work remotely for all of my clients. Idaho. California. Kentucky. Texas. I sometimes wonder if I have a subconscious goal to knock off all 50 states. With all that being said, I met a guy in another state who pursued me completely on his own accord. My vision had always been to travel with my Airstream, but I was never 100% certain on dates. This guy gets my number, he uses round-about questions to engage me in some witty banter, and low and behold he says, “Move down here and I’ll fix all your dating problems.” Wow. Bold statement. I like it. So, after a couple months in this state of flirting euphoria, I commit (amongst a sea of many factors, but I’m intrigued by what’s happening here). He calls me pet names and we have running jokes, and if you know me, these are the keys to my heart. So, I’m smitten kitten. Without any expectation of what will actually become of it. If anything.

The point here is that I show up. I have the luxury of saying yes and then doing something about it. I want to be next to him, so I choose that. Because his voice brings this uncanny smile to my face, and when his name appears on my iPhone notifications, there is a simultaneous level of excitement and comfort. He is fireworks, and he is coming home. And the beauty lies not only in the feeling, but also in the reciprocation of the feeling. Because, there is zero bone in my body that has interpreted anything that he’s told me as being untrue.

Until I’m there. Until I’m standing in front of him begging for every inch of contact. And, that alone becomes the culmination of months of aggressive flirting. Me. Begging (like, seriously, just kiss me before I scream). Because he likes me, but he doesn’t know. I’m sorry, what? Yes, he likes me, but he doesn’t know. Because, self-admittedly, he is a tease. And, he likes it, even though he’s not proud of it (his words, not mine). Perfect. Great. Because, my character flaw is not consuming enough water daily. The effect of this flaw on other people: zero.

At this point, I need to clarify two things. One, I respect people who have an awareness about what they do not know. There is nothing wrong with not knowing. I would take harsh honesty over a sugar-coated lie ten times out of ten. My frustration or disappointment or bewilderment exists in the actions that suggest otherwise. I get it, the pursuit is fun, but if you are not ready to take the elk out of the woods after the hunt, then why are you going hunting in the first place? Terrible metaphor, by the way, but rolling with it. Two, I do not believe in forcing anything in life. I spent far too many years making things happen in the pursuit of checking off items from some proverbial checklist (which is entirely bullshit, by the way). So, for someone not to choose me does not devastate my being. Yes, I have feelings. Lots of them. Too many of them, probably (hello, Leo over here). But, in a world where we get to choose everything (for argument’s sake), I’m not into forcing anyone into a choice that involves me.

What I have observed in this last eighteen months of singledom is that no one wants to commit. To anything. There is no need to commit to anything. Most guys are on dating apps to have sex. Okay, rephrase, most guys are on dating apps posing like they want something substantial in order to get sex. I actually have the most respect for bios that read, “If I’m being honest, just looking to hook up.” Bravo. Kudos to you, dude. Because, I have had my own seasons of wanting more and wanting less. And, there is nothing wrong with either choice. There is nothing wrong with existing in either space. It’s the lack of honesty that burns me to my core. Stop flirting with me if it’s not going anywhere. Stop wasting my time. I don’t need more friends off of Bumble, or sliding into my DMs, or through obscure means of getting my phone number. Truly. I’ve reached my lifetime quota after 34 years.

In tandem, what I have observed in the last eighteen months about myself is that I am, most certainly, a lover and believer of words. And, that is the crux. That online dating, or simply just dating, is this whole show of words. That are so easily believed. And it’s just all shit. If I had a dollar for every guy who suggested running away with me in my Airstream, I would have been able to pay straight cash for my new F-150 a few weeks ago. Seriously. There’s one in LA, and a couple in New Jersey, a handful in Texas, and so many in Colorado that I’ve actually stopped counting. Because the minute I say, “Okay, I’m calling you on this statement,” my experience indicates that they can’t live up to it.

Great, tell me all about your fantasies, homeboy, only to ghost two days later (or, better yet, I find out about your undying love for your current girlfriend on your second to last Instagram post from five days ago). Newsflash, smoother operator, this is my actual life over here. Hope you enjoyed your glimpse.

So, yes, I’m attempting to not grow cynical. I’m also attempting to unpack two very real personal questions. One, if a game must be played in order to win the affection of another, and that game requires me to act outside of my normal state, then am I even winning if I do “win?” For example, guy articulates that he doesn’t know if he wants anything. Then, the same guy asks for me to bring him food because he’s stuck at work. I show love through service, so naturally, my being is dying to deliver said food. But, guy advice (based on my current inner circle) is usually, don’t bring him the food: “He’s using you. If he can’t say that he wants you, but is willing to get favors from you, show him that you don’t have time to do him favors without him giving you a respectable level of commitment.” And, this is fair. This actually makes sense. But, still, I deliver the food (yep, that’s me) because, yep, that IS me. And, I don’t want to be anything but myself. Ever.

Two, what is my responsibility to give people space to be honest and themselves but also to guard my own heart in that process? I believe in ease. I believe that there are certain things in life that mysteriously and beautifully fall into place. I’d like to believe that a romantic relationship would unfold in a similar fashion. But, if this guy says he doesn’t know and then proceeds to engage with me in a fashion that suggests otherwise, should I believe his actions or his words? And, the fact that I’m asking that question is my answer, right? If the right person were standing in front of me, I’m confident I wouldn’t have to be choosing between his actions and his words in the first place because there would be an alignment in both areas that carries the level of integrity that I demand for in my own self. Yet, here I am, FaceTiming my best male friend at 7:32pm on a Wednesday night to ask how to respond to the 47th text message from a guy who just doesn’t know what it is that he wants from me, making me perplexed on how to proceed with my own verbiage and actions.

At this point, let’s add the nomadic element to the mix. And, I am quite confident that therein lies a bigger piece to this commitment-phobic puzzle. Because, it is easy to fall into a routine with someone who resides within your city limits and has a similar schedule to your scripted life. It is an entirely different thing to choose a person who has the freedom to leave. To ask someone to stay requires a deeper level of commitment. It means that someone is choosing for me to do life alongside him, and it means that we are taking off into the sunset together or I am abandoning the road to call someone my home. Ultimately, that choice is my desire. Because, the more I embark on adventures alone, the narrower the gap becomes for me to experience those things for the first time with someone else.

And, I’m starting to question whether or not anything is actually beautiful without it being shared, without it being seen through two sets of eyes in the same moment, if anything is real without the conversation of that thing existing between two coherent bodies.

So, I continue to sit and manifest these desires in the belief that, one day, I’ll be done with the exhibits. That, one day, someone will choose me, and I will choose him back. Without force. Without fear. Without the twenty questions. Granted, maybe I’ve already missed out on Mr. Perfect somewhere in between. Because I didn’t like his shoes. Or his haircut was weird. Or, I swiped left because he failed to include a bio (c’mon, guys). Regardless, I know that wanting something requires attention to that thing. I know that wanting someone requires intentionality to his existence. So, I’m here. Showing up. Attempting to live outside of our digital dead zone. Attempting to keep doing the work to have that one thing that my heart yearns to explore. I can reason that if it were easy, then everyone would do it. Like, really do it. It’s not easy. Not everyone does it. Like, really does it. But, it will damn well be worth it.

Meanwhile, if you need help with your pickup lines, don’t hesitate to slide into my DMs. They’re currently still free for the taking.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/the-silver-lining-online-dating-on-the-road/