#but what's going on with the patches (??) on the walls

[twopoppies]

“Me best mate,” you say?

x

IIRC, the first time Louis mentioned ABBA was during his promo with Steve Aoki for JHO. He was asked what his guilty pleasure music was and he said ABBA. Jay had just passed the month before, and the thought of Harry singing these lyrics to Louis is so tender it makes me want to die.

Chiquitita

[Verse 1]

Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong

You're enchained by your own sorrow

In your eyes, there is no hope for tomorrow

How I hate to see you like this

There is no way you can deny it

I can see that you're oh, so sad, so quiet

[Verse 2]

Chiquitita, tell me the truth

I'm a shoulder you can cry on

Your best friend, I'm the one you must rely on

You were always sure of yourself

Now I see you broken and fettered

(How it hurts to see you cry)

(And how it hurts to see you sad)

I hope we can patch it up together

[Chorus]

Chiquitita, you and I know

How the heartaches come and they go

And the scars they're leaving

You'll be dancing once again

And the pain will end

You will have no time for grieving

Chiquitita, you and I cry

But the sun is still in the sky

And shining above you

(Even though you cry)

(The sun is shining in the sky)

Let me hear you sing once more

(So let me hear you sing some more)

Like you did before

(The way you used to do before)

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

Try once more, like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

[Verse 3]

So the walls came tumbling down

And your love's a blown-out candle

All is gone, and it seems too hard to handle

Chiquitita, tell me the truth

There is no way you can deny it

I see that you're oh, so sad, so quiet

[Chorus]

Chiquitita, you and I know

How the heartaches come and they go

And the scars they're leaving

(You and I, we know)

(How all the heartaches come and go)

You'll be dancing once again

(You’ll be dancing once again)

And the pain will end

(And all the pain you take will end)

You will have no time for grieving

Chiquitita, you and I cry

But the sun is still in the sky

And shining above you

(Even though you cry)

(The sun is shining in the sky)

Let me hear you sing once more

(So let me hear you sing some more)

Like you did before

(The way you used to do before)

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

Try once more, like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

[Outro]

Try once more, like you did before

Sing a new song, Chiquitita

[bumblehoneybee]

Idk if it counts as a request but I need DogDay snapping. Like this man deserves at least 1 (one) crashout at this point. Over Catnap, Angel, Poppy, anything. What we thinking, bee?

Crashout

WARNING: Chapter Four Ending Spoilers and some of my own flair on what happened afterwards, kinda depressing and defeated in vibe

"SHE RAN AWAY!" Dogday snarls. His hands shake, large fingers fumbling the bandages securing the splint to your leg. Pain swims through your head, bruised to hell from your fall. Dogday's yelling isn't helping the headache, but your tongue is too thick to tell him that right now. "Away from us! Away from him, sure, but from us! Leaving us behind!"

"She was scared." You murmur, rubbing at tired eyes. "She wasn't thinking straight."

"She wasn't thinking at all!" Dogday snaps at you. "She left us for dead, Angel. You, me, and Kissy!"

Kissy winces at her name, touching at the burnt patches of fur on her face. You touch her hand. She winces again and pulls it away from you.

"That whole mess with the Safe Haven was her fault too." Dogday grumbles. "We should've freed them. Should've taken them to the levels above! Got them out of there before blowing anything up."

"Dogday. . ."

He tenses, shoulders quivering, before they sink down with a slow sigh. "I know. . . None of us knew about Ollie, none of us knew the plan would fail like that, but. . . I dunno, I feel like we could've done more."

You coax him down enough to wrap an arm around his neck. Dogday sinks a little of his weight into you, careful of your battered body.

"Now we're stuck down here." He grumbles. You stroke his head, but he doesn't relax. "You're injured, I'm injured, Kissy's injured, and Huggy is out there trying to claw down a metal door with cloth hands just to sink his teeth into us."

"It's not ideal." You agree.

"It's bullshit." Dogday growls, but it dies away quickly. Silence settles over the three of you, somber, heavy, pregnant with words no one wants to say, but everyone knows. "Angel. . ."

"I know." You whisper, staring at a ceiling of earth and missing the sky. "I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault." Dogday sighs, settling down more as exhaustion sets in proper. "I think I always knew, even from the beginning, when you tore me off the wall and ran us out of the Playcare. . ."

He doesn't say anymore, he doesn't have to. As Kissy lies down beside you, the three of you settle into the reality that surrounds you on all sides.

You're going to die down here. And nobody will be able to stop it. Not when your luck ran out long ago, slipping through your fingers like wet clay and old stuffing.

[itsmerelliwellie]

Please Don't Be Scared Of Me | Sakamoto Days

How Sakamoto Days characters handle you being scared of them because of their job

Characters: Shin Asakura, Yoichi Nagumo, Seba Brothers, Gaku, Heisuke Mashimo

---

A/N: Hope you like this one OwO

---

~~Shin Asakura~~

When you pull away from him with that wide-eyed fear, it hits him like a ton of bricks. He hears it in your thoughts before you even speak it. “He's dangerous... what if he snaps?"

Shin freezes. His heart pounds, not because you’re wrong—he has killed people—but because you’re terrified of him, not what he’s done. That distinction shatters something inside.

“You think I’d ever hurt you?” he asks softly, voice cracking a little as he gently lowers his hand, like even touching you would confirm your fears.

He gives you space. Too much space. For days, he barely meets your gaze, too afraid of what he’ll hear in your mind again.

Eventually, he breaks, sitting outside your room like some kicked puppy. “I’ve done terrible things,” he admits. “But if I could hear just one thought from you where you trusted me again… I’d do anything for that.”

When you finally reach out, saying, “I just needed time to process,” he leans into your touch like a dying man given water. He whispers, “Then take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

He’ll never stop being protective—but he’s more careful now, more open. And when you finally kiss him, hands trembling, he doesn’t read your mind. He wants to feel your trust the human way.

---

~~Yoichi Nagumo~~

He laughs it off at first. “You scared of me? Babe, I’m the guy who brings you takeout and clips your cat’s nails.”

But when you flinch at the sound of his knife clicking open, everything stops. His expression drops like a mask falling away.

“You know, I pretend a lot,” he says, almost too casually. “Happy-go-lucky, pretty-boy hitman. But pretending you’re not afraid of me? That one really hurt.”

He disappears for a day or two. Not because he’s angry, but because he needs to figure out if being in your life is actually hurting you more than helping.

When he comes back, it’s late. Rain clings to him. He crawls into your bed fully clothed, laying next to you with his back to yours. “I never wanted you to see that part of me,” he murmurs. “But if you’d rather see the truth than love a lie, I’ll show you everything.”

He opens up like never before. About his past, about how much of it he regrets, about how every time he holds a blade. He thinks of what he could lose.

And when you finally touch his face and say, “I trust you,” his smirk returns, slower this time. “Then I’ll treasure that trust because you have no idea how much it matters to me."

---

~~Natsuki Seba~~

He gets quiet—scary quiet—when you recoil from his smile after hearing a story about one of his past missions.

“So it’s finally come to this, huh?” he says, pulling off his glasses and cleaning them slowly. “The moment when you realize I’m a monster.”

But there’s no bite in his voice—just exhaustion. He’s used to being seen as a weapon, a tool, a successful test subject. But he thought you saw him as human.

He doesn’t beg. Doesn’t plead. Just... slowly starts building walls. Talking to you only when necessary, pulling all-nighters again, isolating himself in data and chemicals.

When you confront him, saying, “I was scared, not disgusted,” he doesn’t believe you. Not at first. “You wouldn’t be the first to lie to me,” he mutters.

You finally break through when you patch up a wound he didn’t even ask you to touch. “You’re still you,” you whisper. And he grabs your wrist—hard—not to stop you, but because he’s shaking.

That night, he kisses you like a dying man. Desperate, soft, and scared. “If I scare you again,” he says, forehead pressed to yours, “tell me. I’d rather break myself apart than lose you.”

---

~~Mafuyu Seba~~

It’s a knife to the chest when you say, “I don’t know who you are anymore.” And Mafuyu just… smiles. Like he was expecting this.

“You were the one good thing I didn’t have to earn,” he says coldly. “Guess I got that wrong too.”

He shuts down completely. Barely sleep. Doesn’t text. You find his coat on your couch like he meant to come home but couldn’t.

The worst part? He wants to fix it. But he doesn’t know how. He was raised on logic and rules—emotions are messy, unpredictable. Dangerous. For the longest time, he never even had the guts for skin-to-skin contact. You were the first person to jump over the high walls.

So you break the silence first. You find him slumped over a desk, staring at a photo of you two. “Were you ever going to come back?”

“I was scared I’d break something that mattered,” he admits, looking up with raw eyes. “I don’t know how to be loved and feared at the same time.”

You hold him close and say, “Then let’s figure it out together.” His kiss is shaky, tender, and terrified. “I’ll make myself better,” he promises.

---

~~Gaku~~

He’s not surprised when you back away. He saw the fear in your eyes the moment he told you the truth.

“You thought I was just some weird, messy guy with a sharp tongue,” he mutters. “Turns out I’m also a trained killer. Surprise.”

He doesn’t beg or apologize. He just leaves. Ghosts you. The type of silence that tastes like blood and old memories.

You find him again by accident, nursing a busted lip in an alley. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?” you ask.

“Because I knew you’d try to stop me,” he replies, not meeting your eyes. “And I couldn’t watch you look at me like that again.”

You walk up and cup his jaw, thumb brushing his bruise. “You scare me,” you admit. “But I still love you.” That’s when he breaks, he hides his face in your shoulder and just breathes, like it’s the first real breath he’s taken in days.

Later that night, his touch is rough but reverent. He kisses your scars and his own. “If you ever want out,” he says, “I’ll let you go. But until then—I’m yours, even if I don’t deserve it.”

---

~~Heisuke Mashimo~~

He tries to joke it off. “I mean, who hasn’t accidentally blown something up, right?” But when you don’t laugh, he realizes this is serious.

His heart drops. “You think I’d hurt you?” he says, so softly it breaks your heart. “I’ve never even raised my voice at you.”

He spirals hard. Convinces himself you’re better off without him, that he’s too reckless, too unstable. He starts sleeping in his van again.

The guilt eats at him. You hear him muttering in his sleep—begging for forgiveness, apologizing to you, to the people he's failed.

You sat down next to him one night and said, “If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here.” He just stares at you like you’re some miracle he doesn’t deserve.

He hugs you too tightly. Buries his face in your neck like you’re his only anchor. “Please don’t be scared of me,” he whispers. “I’d rather blow myself up than hurt you.”

That night, he’s surprisingly tender. Fumbling, awkward, but passionate. “I’m yours,” he says between kisses. “Just tell me what to fix and I’ll do it.”

[ichxgo]

The world comes back in waves again. This time, it stings. Sharp pain everywhere. 

Bleach. Antiseptic. Rubber gloves. Voices, low and clinical. Someone pries open his mouth, checks his teeth like he’s a damn racehorse. He’s striped, washed. His weapons have been gone since the first time he woke. What’s left of his clothing is dropped into a pile in a corner. He’s given clothing. Shorts. Too clinging to hide anything inside, too threadbare to keep him warm. Even unconscious he knows he’s freezing. Shivering and tied to a cot. 

When he wakes next, Ichigo groans through clenched teeth. Everything hurts. His ribs burn like they’ve been laced with fire, his leg is wrapped up tight, and his arm—fuck, his shoulder—someone popped it back into place rough. He can barely curl his fingers. 

There’s a sharp tug at the edge of his leg. Stitches. Fresh ones. Then someone touches him. 

Ichigo’s eyes crack open, golden brown and feral. He doesn’t speak. Just watches. Wary. Fighting the urge to go back under.

“Don’t fuck the merchandise,” someone warns.

Don’t fuck the merchandise.

He sees red, bright and blurry at the edge of his vision, and it takes everything not to lunge right then. He wouldn't make it far. He can wait.

They move him. When he’s brought into another warehouse, they take him to a side room—cold concrete, metal grate flooring. No windows. Chain on his ankle. Drugs in his system. Every time he moves the world rocks like a sloshing cup. Vision blurs. So he shuts his eyes. The door clicks behind them. 

He counts the seconds to stay awake.

Four come back with the doctor.

One crouches to check his restraints.

Ichigo moves.

The chain gives him just enough slack. His body screams, but rage is a great painkiller. He’s on the handler in a flash, chain around his neck. He drives the bastard’s head into the floor until something cracks. The others shout. One draws a weapon. 

Too slow. Ichigo tackles him into the wall, hands slippery with gore and hair.

It’s not elegant. It’s not quiet. It’s brutal. He sways, can’t get a lock on which direction is up or sideways.

By the time they overwhelm him, there’s blood everywhere. Three down, two more coming in. The others beat him back onto the floor, boot to his spine.

He laughs through the blood in his mouth, and he’s grinning when a crowbar smashes into the side of his face.

Everything goes black again.

“The military won’t touch him. Not even research. Too distinctive.” 

He’s tied to the bed this time when he wakes. Not the small cot, not something easily moved. It’s something bolted down. Plastic under him. The bindings are thick straps. There are still splashes of blood smeared on the walls and floor.

“Argentina pays better, but I want him out of here. He needs handlers with training you shits don’t have. Find someone to take him.” 

The new drugs are heavier. He floats in and out of awareness. When he’s awake, he’s sick. They put a patch on his neck. And then he isn’t sick, but he falls in and out of sleep without warning, doesn’t fight when he’s touched, and has trouble telling one face from the next. His limbs are weak. He can’t walk on his own. He barely cares. 

Word gets around fast that Shiro's looking for someone. The biggest drug lord in the country doesn't just start making calls without it getting noticed. He doesn't even know the guy's name but he knows what kind of work he does and he knows people who know people.

After spending what felt like an eternity digging through Ichigo's apartment looking for any clues about where he might have gone, he's pacing the hallway in a lap that begins in the kitchen, drinking Ichigo's liquor stash. He has a glass in one hand, his phone in the other, back and forth, back and forth, like someone in a cage. During one of his phone calls, his contact mentions Urahara's name and Shiro nearly spills his drink, he raises it so fast in eagerness about finally hearing what he wants to hear. "Ah! That's the fucker. Find him for me."

And suddenly there's a name going around, not just word.

No doubt Urahara hears he's being sought out before Shiro manages to track him down, because he doesn't seem surprised, just mildly amused, when Shiro shows up on his doorstep.

Shiro's been thinking about how to approach this guy for hours by now, but the moment he's face to face with him, all professionalism leaves. "Where the hell's Ichigo? Who did you send him after?" No preamble, no introduction. Expecting to have to buy this information, he has more cash on him than any sane person would carry around. If that fails, he's willing to fight for it. He might be a prissy rich bitch these days but he's as scrappy as ever and always needs a good, violent outlet. He wants Ichigo back and he'll have him one way or another.

[miserybread]

Oblivious, stoic Oc x Lovestruck, delinquent M!reader

This oneshot is more like a prologue to the main events of the story.

cw: brief mention of a wound

1k words

"Hey, wanna play hide and seek?" You asked, looking down at the boy who boy tucked his knees into himself, tracing random lines into the sand

"Mm." He let out a small hum with a brief nod, standing up and looking at you.

You never understood what this kid's deal was. He felt more like a ghost than an actual person, always sitting alone, playing alone. His replies were a mixture of short, monotone hums and brief words as his gaze bore into the recipient's eyes. Creepy. At least that's what all the other kids thought.

"Ugh. Do we really have to play Arlo? He's so weird!" That was the usual response you'd get whenever you wanted to include him in the game of tag.

Kids are mean, not even bothering to soften their words or at least spare victims from hearing them.

Arlo never said anything about what others thought about him, not even a hint of hurt graced his features at their weird looks or hushed whispers. It somehow made you even more angry. How was he so unbothered!? Your fists clenched, your teeth gritting back the words you wanted to scream back at them.

"Calm down." That's all he said, giving brief glances to your hands and face as once more, another kid didn't want Arlo to be included in one of their games

But that didn't stop the fist that was colliding right into their cheek. It didn't stop you from pushing the kid down, grabbing and tugging on their hair.

The sound of the bell ringing rang in the stuffy and crowded high school walls, signaling the time for class. You felt small prickles of pain on your forehead.

"(name). Are you zoning out again?" Arlo asked, his tone laced with a hint of annoyance. You could pick it out of his usual monotone voice since you've been friends for so long

"Huh? Yeah... My bad." You replied, snapping out of your trip down memory lane. "Ow!" You let out a soft hiss as the swab disinfectant brushed against your wound, earning you a sigh from Arlo.

"We're graduating in a few months. Get yourself together. You'll get kicked out of every college if you keep getting into fights," Arlo simply stated, pressing the swab a tad firmer into the side of your forehead—a reminder of the consequence of your fight.

You let off a groan. "I know, I know. If they're gonna run their mouth about you, then it's not my fault If I knock their teeth out," you simply replied, a slight pout gracing your lips. Arlo shook his head and continued patching up your wound.

People are mean, hiding their bigotry behind fake smiles as laughter and gossip echo behind the victim's back.

Arlo gently flicked your forehead. "Keep your gaze on me, not the wall." The words seemed a tad possessive, though the monotony of his voice didn't indicate any of it. But you knew better than to hope for that, Arlo was simply trying to keep you from zoning out once more.

You start to shift your gaze over his features—Begrudgingly complying with his words. You gazed over his long black hair, his bangs—a silent indication of not wanting to be seen, his dark blue eyes—a constant entrapment of your attention. Your gaze trailed down to his boy—slim with a hint of muscle. Arlo disliked sweating, but since you practically begged him to get a gym membership with you he complied, always going along with whatever you wanted after a couple pouts and whines.

You wanted to look away so badly, focus on anything but him. Arlo was the reason your knuckles were bruised and bandaged, the reason for the many fading scars along your body. He knew it, yet he chose to pretend he wasn't the reason for your constant aggression towards the people in these confined walls.

Focus (name), focus damn it. You're gonna zone out again.

"So uhh, we're late to class." You mutter out. Your distraction of choice was the clock.

"I know." Arlo bluntly stated as he plastered a bandage on your forehead, gesturing with his head to stand up

"Aw mann, I so don't wanna go to math!" You whine as you glance at Arlo, shooting him a pleading look

"We're not skipping." He replied bluntly

"I didn't even suggest it.." You groan out, but you knew you wanted to skip

"You were gonna." Arlo shot back as he glanced at you

Fair enough.

As you silently walked through the school corridors you felt your gaze drifting back onto Arlo—an instinctual reaction from the blossoming feelings in your heart. You leaned in closer, the feel of your shoulders brushing against his sent a small shock through your body.

Closer, just a bit closer...

You leaned in, a hint of his cologne making its way through your nose and into your core. Causing your stomach to flutter with butterflies

Arlo didn't say anything, nor look, or make any indication of noticing your gestures.

Your hand started to slowly creep toward his

"(Name), Arlo. Why are you late?" Your teacher's stern voice immediately snapped you out

You didn't even notice Arlo opening the classroom door

"The nurse was out, I patched him up" Arlo stated as his gaze bore into the teacher's. She simply sighed and gestured to sit down.

Why does she question anymore? Probably out of routine.

You and Arlo sat at your desks at the back of the classroom. Pulling out your textbooks and listening to another boring topic.

Yap, Yap, Yap.. Pythagorean theorem.. Yap Yap.. Geometry..

You rhythmically tapped your fingers against the desk, leaning your head against your palm. At least Arlo is paying attention, I'm gonna need his help with studying for this test. You couldn't wait for classes to end, to finally hang out with him at your house. Play video games, watch movies, and nonchalantly lean your head against his head. Lean in, too close, too intimately, then notice Arlo's monotone expression and lean back with an awkward laugh and the switch of a subject. If only you had the guts and closed that small gap, or maybe it's good that you didn't...

This is the first fanfiction I've written, I'm mostly writing for myself and will keep updating. I'm not sure if I'll keep it light and fluffy or will include smut. Hope you liked it!

Dividers

Made by: @miserybread

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

Hi omg can u pls write little van and cg lottie as adults pls?

Little!Van x Cg!Lottie - Reuniting

Cw: swearing

Word count: 1065

—————————

Van had picked foraging, which was stupid. She did not want to go around and pick berries like she was back in the dumb wilderness again. Everything that had happened today - and everything that had been happening for the last few days - felt like the most mean and horrible joke. Van had tried her hardest to avoid all of the big and scary memories but now she was back here, in the clutches of the very people who shared the key to the box where she hid all the scary stuff. It had been messing with her brain, sending her straight back there, or, further, really. Trudging along around the tree line that surrounded Lottie's weird culty camp, Van couldn’t stop her mind from slipping back to an age before all of this had started.

“There are some nice flowers growing on the western border, if you want me to show you?” it was Lottie’s voice, causing Van’s metaphorical hackles to raise. She whipped her head around defensively.

“I don’t wanna,” She huffed, unable to keep the petulant tone from her voice. Lottie tilted her head slightly to the side, Van’s voice sending her back to moments shared what felt like a lifetime ago.

Lottie stepped closer, not missing the way Van tensed at the approach. “Berries out north then?” Lottie suggested, her voice placid and gentle. Van crossed her arms, brow creasing in frustration.

“I don’t want to do any of this stupid shit.” She stomped her foot grouchily and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

Lottie’s face fell. “Van, we don’t use that sort of language,” She reprimanded gently. Van’s eyes began to well up with tears. None of this was fair! She didn’t want to be here, she didn’t want to do this. She also was not a baby, and Lottie didn’t get to tell her what language to use! Lottie didn’t get to talk to her like she would’ve 25 years ago. As if nothing had changed, as if they were back there. Van turned on her heel, never one to cry in front of others, and stormed off to go hide.

She ended up slumped down against the wall of one of the many sheds on the compound. It was quiet and the tall building shaded her from the burning afternoon sun. Frustration built up inside her chest, making her feel smaller than ever. The thought that maybe she had wanted Lottie to follow her flickered vaguely through her mind. It was an upsetting thought, to consider maybe after all this time she could trust Lottie the way she once had. Morseo, it was upsetting that she knew she couldn’t. Van rubbed the tears from her cheeks and began to rip handfuls of grass from the ground below her, chucking the dirt filled blades onto the ground in front of her and watching as they flew out over her worn out sneakers. This was all so dumb. She just wanted to go home.

When Lottie appeared beside her a few minutes later, Van didn’t have the energy to move away. Lottie slid down the wall next to Van, leaving only the torn up patch of dirt between them. “I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry,” Lottie apologised quietly. “I guess… I just forgot how long it’s been, I should’ve understood that it wouldn’t be the same.”

Van frowned, sliding down further against the wall so her legs were stretched out almost as far as Lottie’s. “Sorry for using bad language,” Van mumbled, because even though it had been a long time, Van didn’t want Lottie to be mad at her.

“No need to be sorry about that,” Lottie sighed gently, patting Van’s knee comfortingly. The small gesture pulled a string in Van that she thought had long ago been severed. She leaned instinctively into Lottie’s side, letting her weight fall fully into someone else’s hold for the first time in 25 years. “I’ve got you, it’s ok,” Lottie cooed, wrapping her arms around Van tightly. Van sniffled, hiding her face against Lottie’s neck. With her eyes closed, it was almost possible to convince herself nothing had changed at all.

“Mama.” The word should’ve sounded foreign and unfamiliar on Van’s tongue after all these years. But it didn’t. It was natural, Lottie was her Mama.

“Mama’s here,” Lottie promised, peppering kisses to the top of Van’s head. “Why don’t we go back to my room, hm? I could get you some juice?” Van perked up at the suggestion. Her body was starting to ache from sitting on the hard ground and she hadn’t brought her medication.

“Mkay,” She agreed, letting Lottie lead her towards her quarters. It was nice inside, Lottie’s room was decorated with gentle colours and lights. It felt warm, homey. There was a couch, a bed, and a small kitchenette.

“Go lay down, I’ll get your juice,” Lottie directed. Van nodded, slipping her shoes off and crawling up onto Lottie’s bed. It probably would’ve been more appropriate to lay down on the couch but Van didn’t care. The bed had thick, fluffy pillows and soft blankets which Van immediately wrapped herself in. It smelt like Lottie. Yes - there were hints of lavender soap and perfume and things that they didn’t have back then, but beneath it all, there was something familiar. Lottie came over with a sippy cup in her hand and van couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that Lottie might’ve taken care of other people like she was taking care of Van now. It didn't really matter, she decided, when she felt the gentle presence of lottie slip into the bed next to her. Van made grabby hands for the sippy cup, blue with little green dinosaurs on it. “Manners,” Lottie prompted gently.

“Please?” Van requested quietly, smiling when Lottie handed her the juice. It tasted different to anything van had ever had before. Earthy, thick, but still very sweet like it had been mixed with honey. It wasn’t bad, she decided firmly. None of this was really that bad when she thought about it. At least, van couldn’t bring herself to think about all the ways it could possibly be bad when she was curled up against Lottie in bed with a sippy and a gentle hand stroking through her hair and working out all the tensions in her tired body.

[mintyys-blog]

MUCH NEEDED TRAINING | kon el kent x reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: smut, mention of hurting someone during sex unintentionally, rough sex, swearing,

You didn’t mean to knock the guy through a wall.

You were aiming for a clean punch—enough to daze him, maybe keep him down until the cops arrived. But when your fist connected with his chest, he flew. Not staggered, not stumbled—flew backwards like a ragdoll, right through the brick facade of an abandoned warehouse.

You froze. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

The dust hadn’t even settled when Kon zipped in front of you, landing with that confident little smirk on his face and a criminal tossed over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“I leave you alone for two minutes, and you’re already takin’ out the architecture?”

Your heart was hammering. “I didn’t mean to hit him that hard—I wasn’t even trying—Kon, what if I broke something?”

He raised a brow, glancing toward the distant, groaning heap of a man who’d just been ejected through reinforced stone. “You definitely broke something. But probably just the wall.”

He stepped closer, his cocky expression softening the longer he looked at you. You were breathing too fast, jaw clenched, the panic tightening your shoulders.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you muttered, trying not to flinch as he touched your arm. “I think I’m in control and then—bam, some poor asshole gets thrown halfway across the block. What if it’s not a villain next time? What if I hurt someone I care about?”

Kon’s hand slid up your bicep, his voice low but steady. “Then you learn. You train. And until you’re sure, you don’t go near the people who can’t take a hit.”

You looked away, guilt gnawing at your gut.

“I’m serious,” he said, guiding your chin back toward him. “You’re still learning, Y/N. But you’re not doing it alone.” He gave you a half-grin. “Besides, if you’re worried about hurting someone in the heat of the moment… there’s at least one guy on this planet who can take everything you’ve got.”

You blinked. “Are we still talking about punching people?”

That grin turned downright wicked.

You rolled your eyes at his smirk but didn’t pull away when he slipped an arm around your waist. The adrenaline was still fading, but being close to Kon always had a way of steadying your pulse. Even if he was smug as hell.

He looked up at the sky, then at you. “C’mon. You owe me a meal for having to patch up your mess.”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed, half-laughing. “You loved watching me punch that guy through a building.”

“I did,” he admitted shamelessly, already floating a few inches off the ground with you in tow. “But I’m still hungry, so unless you want me hangry and difficult all night—”

“You’re always difficult.”

He grinned. “And you still keep callin’ me.”

With a dramatic sigh, you let him pull you into the air. The wind rushed past your face, cool and sharp, while the city lights sparkled beneath you. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that this wasn’t normal. That flying with someone, laughing midair, stopping to grab fast food in full costume—it was all a part of this strange life you’d stumbled into.

You both landed outside a grimy, 24-hour burger joint on the outskirts of the city. The cashier barely batted an eye at the sight of Superboy and his powered-up maybe-girlfriend ordering chili fries at 11:47 PM.

Kon inhaled two cheeseburgers before you were halfway through your nuggets. “God, I missed food. You’d think with all the world-saving I do, someone would comp me a pizza once in a while.”

“Maybe if you smiled more,” you teased around a fry.

“I am smiling. This is me smiling.”

He shoved another fry in his mouth and grinned like a complete menace.

You snorted, licking salt off your fingers as you leaned against the table. “Thanks, by the way. For earlier. I know I joke about it, but I really do suck at this sometimes.”

Kon leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing slightly, like he was studying you. Then he said, voice low and sincere, “You don’t suck. You’re just learning how not to hold back anymore.”

You felt something twist warm and slow in your stomach—not just desire, but something softer. Something more dangerous.

The quiet between you stretched, charged, until he nudged your foot with his under the table.

“So,” he drawled. “We goin’ back to your place, or should I start clearing space in my room for the bedframe we’re about to break?” You choked on your drink. He grinned.

You ended up back at your place, fast food wrappers crumpled on the counter, the distant hum of the city outside your window. Kon had made himself at home on your couch—shoes off, jacket slung over the armrest, his muscular frame stretched out like he owned the place.

He looked too comfortable.

“You know,” you said, brushing your hands off with a napkin and sitting beside him, “I’m still trying to figure out how you managed to eat five burgers and not even look bloated.”

Kon tilted his head toward you, smirking. “Perks of the DNA cocktail, baby. Solar-powered metabolism.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, biting your lip a little as the warm buzz between you settled into a softer hum. For a moment, neither of you said anything. The air grew heavier—not awkward, just charged. Like your thoughts were trying to escape your mouth but kept second-guessing themselves.

You broke the silence first. “Can I ask you something kinda… personal?”

He looked at you, instantly attentive. “Yeah. What’s up?”

You picked at the edge of a napkin. “Do you, uh… do you ever sleep with people who aren’t superpowered?”

His brow arched, but he didn’t laugh. “I mean, yeah. All the time. Why?”

You hesitated, cheeks warming. “I just… I’ve been worried about it. I’m still not used to this strength thing. My control is all over the place. Like… one time I was with this guy, right before the powers really kicked in full force. Thought I had it under control. But during—uh, during sex… I kinda—” you swallowed, grimacing, “almost broke his dick.”

Kon blinked. “Almost?”

“I mean, there was a sound. Like.. a not good sound.”

He blinked again, then snorted.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “It’s not funny! Ever since then I’ve been terrified I’ll hurt someone by accident. Like, what if I get carried away and break a rib or crush somebody’s pelvis? It’s not like there’s a manual for this kind of thing.”

Kon didn’t say anything at first, just shifted on the couch until he was facing you more directly. “Okay, first of all? Damn.”

You snorted, muffled in your hands.

“Second,” he continued, voice dropping a little, “you probably shouldn’t be doin’ it with ‘normal people,’ at least until you’ve got better control. But lucky for you…” He leaned in, a grin playing on his lips, “you can’t hurt me.”

Your breath caught.

“I mean, you could try.” He smirked. “Could be fun. But if you wanna test out your strength somewhere a little more… private?” His eyes dropped briefly to your lips, then back up. “I’m game.”

You stared at him. “Are you—are you offering to be my sex dummy?”

He shrugged. “Let’s call it hands-on training.”

A beat passed. And then you were kissing him—fast, hot, eager, like you’d been waiting weeks to do it.

You barely made it to the bedroom.

Clothes hit the floor in a trail from the hallway to the bed—Kon’s shirt, your hoodie, his belt, your bra. Everything felt electric. His hands were warm on your hips, thumbs teasing the skin just above your waistband, but he let you guide him. Let you take your time. That smug, knowing look in his eyes didn’t fade even once his back hit the mattress.

He laid there, bare chest rising with slow, steady breaths, arms folded behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he wasn’t about to let a half-panicked, half-turned-on meta learn how to fuck without pulverizing her partner.

You climbed on top, straddling his hips, your thighs already trembling a little—not from weakness, but from the sheer intensity of wanting to get this right. You looked down at him, biting your lip, hesitation flickering in your gaze.

“You’re sure?” you asked, hands braced against his chest. “I don’t know what’ll happen if I… lose focus.”

Kon just grinned, slow and cocky, but his voice was soft when he said, “Then lose focus. You’re not gonna hurt me. You need to feel what you’re capable of—not fear it.”

That kind of trust settled deep in your chest. Anchored you.

You leaned down and kissed him again, slower this time. Your fingers dragged down his chest, memorizing the hard lines of him, every scar, every dip of muscle. Then you shifted your hips, slowly easing yourself down on him.

The stretch made your breath catch. Kon groaned under you, hands gripping your thighs but not guiding you—he let you move how you needed, let you take him inch by inch.

“That’s it,” he murmured, eyes hooded as he looked up at you. “You’ve got me. Just like that.”

You rocked your hips gently at first, afraid to throw too much of your strength into it. Afraid of slipping up, of hearing another horrifying crack sound. But Kon’s hands slid up your waist, grounding you.

“C’mon, babe. Don’t hold back now,” he teased, voice a little rougher. “You got all this power—you really gonna waste it bein’ shy on top of me?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Thought so,” he smirked.

You snapped your hips harder that time, the wet slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the room. Kon hissed through his teeth, grinning even wider. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about.”

You moved faster, testing how much strength you could pour into each grind, each bounce. Kon met you halfway, rising slightly with every thrust, every deep pull of your heat around him. He felt so good—hot, solid, unbreakable. You could let go with him.

And you did.

Your hands braced on his chest, fingers digging in. You rolled your hips harder, faster. His name slipped from your lips like a mantra, and Kon’s praise followed every moan, every twitch of your muscles around him.

“Look at you,” he panted, voice husky. “Ridin’ me like you were built for it.”

You whimpered, close, breath shuddering as you tried to keep control.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” he groaned, gripping your hips now, eyes dark. “Feelin’ strong yet? You should. You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

That pushed you right over the edge.

You came hard, shivering, body clenching around him so tight he growled, teeth gritted as he held still and let you ride it out. His hand cupped the back of your neck, gently pulling you down until you collapsed against his chest, shaking, breathless.

You felt him kiss your temple, hand smoothing down your back.

“See?” he murmured, voice low and smug. “Told you I could take it.”

You lay draped across his chest, still trembling slightly, slick with sweat and glowing in the aftermath. Your cheek pressed against his skin, the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath you as grounding as it was intimate. He was warm, solid, and completely unfazed by the chaos you’d just unleashed on him.

Your thighs ached in a way that made you proud, and your lungs were still dragging in air like you’d just sprinted a mile.

“I’m…” you gasped, laughing breathlessly. “I’m glad I didn’t break your dick.”

Kon barked out a laugh beneath you, his chest shaking against yours. “I’m glad too,” he grinned, running a hand lazily up your spine. “Was gettin’ kinda attached to it.”

You snorted, then wheezed when the motion made your sore muscles twitch. “Ow. Okay, yeah… I might need, like, six pancakes and a Gatorade before round two.”

“Oh, so there’s a round two now?” Kon asked, eyebrows raised, the cocky little smirk back on his face. “Guess that means I passed the test, huh?”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his gaze, chin resting on his sternum. “You didn’t just pass—you aced it. Broke the curve. Raised the bar. Other guys are gonna suffer now.”

“Good.” He kissed your forehead, hand finding the curve of your hip and giving it a lazy squeeze. “Let ‘em. I like bein’ the only one who can handle you.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart flipped anyway.

The silence between you now was softer, more intimate. You traced little circles into his chest, still winding down. Kon’s fingers brushed against your hair, occasionally drifting low to tease along your waist.

After a while, he broke the quiet.

“Y’know, if you ever wanna keep practicing… strength control, rhythm, stamina—” He nudged your sore thigh with his knee. “I am available. For heroic purposes, of course.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Oh, so this is for the greater good?”

“Absolutely.” He grinned, shameless. “Public service. I’m practically a saint.”

“Superboy, protector of pelvic bones everywhere,” you muttered, laughing into his skin.

He pulled you closer. “Only yours.”

The second round didn’t start so much as ignite.

You hadn’t even made it out of bed. Pancakes were a lie. Gatorade sat forgotten on your nightstand, condensation dripping down the bottle as you writhed beneath him again.

Kon had rolled you over, kissing down your neck with maddening slowness until you tugged him on top of you—something desperate in your touch that only he seemed to satisfy.

“You’re seriously ready again?” you panted, legs already wrapped around his waist.

He just smirked, mouth brushing your collarbone. “Didn’t hear any complaints the first time.”

You moaned his name as he thrust back inside—slow, deep, the kind of stroke that made your toes curl and your fingers claw into the sheets.

And that was when the building shook.

Just a subtle tremor at first—a soft rattle of your bedroom light fixture and a picture frame thudding to the carpet. Kon paused only briefly, blinked, then looked down at you with a smirk as the shaking intensified.

“Oops.”

“Kon—” you gasped, clinging to him as the headboard slammed into the wall hard enough to leave another dent. “You’re gonna get us evicted!”

“I’ll fix it later,” he muttered, before snapping his hips forward again with a sharp crack of impact.

You cried out his name that time—louder, breathier, the kind of sound that echoed way past your apartment walls.

Your poor neighbors.

The window rattled now. A half-full laundry basket tipped over from the shockwaves of your body colliding with the mattress in rhythm. You didn’t care. You couldn’t care. You were too full, too gone, too focused on the boy above you who looked at you like he could live in your moans forever.

“Say it again,” he grunted, voice ragged as he drove deeper.

“Kon—” you whimpered, eyes fluttering. “Fuck—Kon—!”

He grinned, glowing in the praise. “Love when you scream my name. Might make a habit of this. Maybe start every morning like this, till you can’t even walk straight.”

“Already can’t—!”

You broke into breathless laughter, even as another moan tore out of your throat, half-bliss, half-shock. He was merciless and steady, pushing you higher, kissing you like he owned you, like your body was his personal playground.

Another thrust. Another quake.

BANG.

“Okay, that was a structural noise,” you choked out, barely holding onto the headboard.

“You’re still moaning,” he pointed out smugly. “I’m allowed to multitask!”

The building shook once more, this time with such force that you swore the foundation itself might collapse. The headboard slammed against the wall again, and a second thud followed from the other side of the apartment.

Your eyes widened, and you pushed your hands against Kon’s chest, trying to hold back the burst of laughter. “Kon, I think we might need to tone it down before we get kicked out of here!”

He just grinned, impossibly cocky as he continued his relentless rhythm, his hips slapping against yours in a way that sent waves of pleasure crashing through you. “Can’t promise anything. You’re too loud to ignore, babe.”

“I—Kon!” You gasped, a moan escaping as your legs tightened around him again, your back arching into him. But then the sound of a fist pounding on the wall from the next apartment over stopped you both dead in your tracks.

Knock knock knock.

“Would you two PLEASE keep it down?! Some of us are trying to sleep!”

You stared at the wall, blinking for a moment. Then you couldn’t help it. You burst into uncontrollable laughter, your whole body shaking with the force of it. “Oh my god, did you hear that?!” you laughed.

Kon, barely fazed, chuckled too, though it was more of a deep, amused rumble. “That’s the price of living next to superheroes, babe. Can’t control the groundbreaking events.”

Another knock, knock, knock. “I can hear you both through the walls! We get it!”

You collapsed back onto the bed, still laughing. “Maybe we should get some soundproofing? Or—”

Kon leaned down, kissing the curve of your neck. “I’ll go talk to ‘em,” he said, completely unfazed, even as the neighbor continued to mutter threats from the other side. “Maybe we’ll offer ‘em a little… compensation.” He grinned wickedly, and you caught the gleam in his eye. “I’ll slip a bill under the door with a note that says, ‘This is how Superboy does it.’”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, but it only made you laugh harder. “Oh, please. They’ll never want to see you again. The poor guy probably thinks we’re murdering each other in here.”

Kon raised an eyebrow and smirked down at you, his hands sliding back to your hips, moving slow this time. “But I’m not done with you, babe.”

You shivered in response, pushing yourself up, your fingers teasing the edge of his jaw. “Alright, alright. But no more earthquakes. I don’t think we could handle another angry neighbor.”

Kon just pulled you closer, grinning that cocky grin again. “Let’s see if they can handle round two first.”

After a few minutes of quiet, just as you were beginning to recover, Kon stood up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll fix the wall later,” he muttered, wiping a hand over his face. “Gotta make sure you don’t get too used to that.”

You snickered, sitting up and tossing the sheets aside. “You might just have broken me for any other guy, you know.”

Kon stopped mid-stretch and looked over at you, eyebrow raised. “Oh, I’m well aware. You’re mine now.” His smirk was all too knowing, and you couldn’t help but laugh again as he pulled you back toward him, this time for the slower, softer aftermath.

As he settled back down, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the soft glow of the morning started creeping through the blinds. “So… pancakes?”

“Yeah, pancakes,” you sighed contentedly. “And maybe next time, we’ll keep the earthquakes to a minimum?”

He chuckled, nuzzling your hair. “Promise. But for now… you sure you’re done?”

You smirked. “I’m never done with you, Kon.” And just like that, the chaos continued, but in the most perfect way.

[fluffyenergee]

Here, have some ler!Heavy lee!Medic 👍. This is a tickle fic

“Doktor?”

Medic looked up from the documents scattered across his desk after a second more of writing down.

“Ach, Heavy!” He beamed seeing his bigger teammate but there was some concealed weariness behind his eyes that said person did not miss. “What brings you to my humble abode? You know I always welcome you here though I’m afraid I’m a bit busy right now.” He returned to writing. “I gained the most fascinating results from, ahem, patching up Scout today and I just need to write it all down. For prosperity.” His eyes looked like they would bulge out of his sockets.

And maybe they would have, had Heavy not come closer, put his hand on Medic’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Doktor,” He repeated. “It is midnight.”

“Oh?” Medic looked up to check the wall clock. It was indeed just after 12 am. “Time flies when you do something you love, doesn’t it?” He chuckled. 

“Da.” Heavy nodded, still next to the other, still holding his shoulder. “But work can wait until morning.” He cradled Medic’s face forcing him to meet his gaze, not that the doctor really protested. “You need rest, Herbert.”

“Well, Misha,” Medic mirrored smugly, “if that’s so then why are you still up too?”

“To make sure you go to sleep,” Heavy deadpanned, ignoring Medic’s self-satisfied blinking. “If I don't make sure, you won’t. Heavy knows.”

“I don’t need to be babysat.”

“Nyet,” Heavy agreed with a good-natured nod, his expression softening into a more mischievous one. “But you need to be… convinced.” That last word was coated in a lower, deeper tone.

Which certainly had caught Medic’s attention because after that he didn’t once look down to his notes. Instead, excitement began tugging at his every feature.

“Och?” He tilted his head now closer to Heavy’s hands. “And how are you planning to convince me?”

“Doktor knows.”

He did. They both knew, but, after all, the anticipation was almost as delicious as the action itself.

“Oho!” Medic wasn’t exactly taken aback when Heavy picked him up and sat him on top of his desk, naturally after stacking the documents and putting them elsewhere, but he still couldn’t stop himself from letting the sound slip his lips. “How strong.”

“Heavy is strong.” Heavy gripped the other’s leg and straightened it in front of him, next taking care of removing his footwear. “And Medic is ticklish. Very useful.”

“That is undisputed.” Medic wiggled his bare foot’s toes, his palms now planted firmly behind his back on the desk.

“Da.”

Not waiting any longer, Heavy wriggled his big fingers quickly against Medic’s sole, not holding anything back, his other hand making sure the sensitive foot remained unmoving.

“OHOHOHOHO!” Medic burst into laughter immediately, his head thrown back. “KHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHHEAVY!” He did absolutely nothing to stop it.

“Yes, doktor?” Heavy grinned while his fingers covered the entirety of the tickled sole - heel, arch, toes… 

“THAHAHAHAHAHAT TIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!” Medic eventually managed to blurt out comprehensible words as his fingers clawed at the surface underneath.

“Mmm, good, that’s the point.” Heavy focused on skimming between the toes now which caused the other to jerk and finally tug at his ankle, his other calf flailing freely. “Tickle, tickle, tickleeee. Medic is unusually ticklish. I like this.”

“AHAHAHA, OH!” Medic moved on to arching his back and lowering himself gradually on his arms as Heavy pinched between his toes. “AND YOUHUHUHU, AH! ARE A PEHEHEHEHERFECT TIHIHIHICKLER!

Heavy had hummed in contentment before… grabbing Medic’s other ankle and repeating the process of undressing his foot. He eyed the ever-growing redness on Medic’s face and quickly dug his thumbs into the center of both arches.

“GAH!” Medic’s toes all straightened as his arms finally lost all their strength and the doctor continued laughing and squirming flat on his back. “KHAHAHAH, OH, HEHEHEHEAVY!”

“Is doktor tired yet?” Heavy asked teasingly while reveling in the wild noises filling the infirmary and absolutely not stopping or even slowing to help the other answer.

“NO, NO, NEHEHEHEHEIN!” Medic’s words quickly dissolved into laughter under the prolonged foot tickling.

“Still too much energy then.” Heavy shook his head in mock-disapproval but when he moved to stand at Medic’s side, he could clearly see the other heaving once the laughter died down. “Heavy fixes.”

“Then… uff… what are you… waiting for?” Medic gave Heavy a challenging look, his toes already back to wiggling, his arms away from his torso, leaving it nice and vulnerable.

Heavy was not about to ignore this invitation.

“Very well.”

One of his hands returned to one of Medic’s soles, while the other one moved under his clothes to initiate direct contact with his stomach. He struck again.

“OHOHOAHAHAH!” Medic wiggled and squirmed on top of the desk, his hands now plastered to his very much red cheeks. “OH GOGOGOGOGOTT! MISHA!” He eyed the other through little tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

“Misha know, it feels good.” Heavy’s big fingers started wiggling in circles around the center of Medic’s stomach, not stopping there or on his foot for even a second. “Silly Medic.” It was his turn to take in the other’s delicious state. “So ticklish and loving it so much.”

In turn, Medic simply leaned closer to Heavy’s hands, though at this point it was hard to say if it was intentional or simply an effect of moving so much while screeching without a break. It continued until… the tears of mirth gathering in Medic’s eyes started streaming down his cheeks and Heavy gradually slowed his tickling until he eventually stopped altogether. 

Medic was left with his body trembling, his tongue licking his dry lips, and of course that big smile which was very much still there.

“Oh… oh… mmm, that was…” He took a bigger breath and threw his arm across his eyes. It didn’t do much to hide his blush but that wasn’t the point. “That was so good.”

Had not the arm Heavy was sure he would be able to see literal hearts in Medic’s eyes. Perhaps that was what dictated his next move.

“Then would be shame not to…”

Medic felt devilish fingers scratching the sides of his neck.

“AAAAHAH!” He squealed. The infirmary came into his view once again, though most of it was covered by a certain mercenary. His hands flew to grip Heavy’s wrists. Which achieved absolutely nothing. “OHOHOHAHAHAHAHA! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEA-.” The rest of the word dissolved in a wheeze.

“Tickle, tickle, doktor.” Heavy’s fingers teased under Medic’s jaw before wandering down the sides of his neck and taking their time at its base.

If Medic’s legs were kicking before then now, they were downright spasming. Not that the rest of his body was faring any better.

“...” Not a sound escaped Medic for a second or two, but his face provided more than enough information to show his deliciously panicked excitement. And then… “...OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” The comeback of laughter was accompanied by Medic’s hands, finally, finally putting genuine effort into trying to push Heavy away.

“Hm, naughty hands,” Heavy grunted before determination took over his face. “Don’t worry, doktor, I will help make sure they don’t stop your enjoyment.” With that, he grabbed both of Medic’s hands into one of his and forced them above their owner’s head. “There.” 

Neither of them missed the absolutely violent shiver of excitement running through Medic’s body.

“Hah, H-Heheheavy, I’m so hehehelpless now!” Medic gasped when Heavy slowed significantly his now one-handed tickling for just a moment, as if in preparation.

“Good.”

“Ja, goohohohod.”

Heavy’s free hand found its place tormenting Medic’s neck again. By then the blush had reached the spot too and what followed were more screeches, more squirms, and one hell of a lot of laugh-screams that 100% could be heard beyond the infirmary.

The final result? Time - much closer to 1 am than midnight. Heavy - satisfied, still holding Medic’s wrists above his head. Medic himself - elated and exhausted.

Or so Heavy thought.

“Heeeh… heh…” Medic attempted to catch his breath hungrily. “More…?”

Heavy blinked at him and let go of his wrists in favour of using both his arms to pick up the doctor. 

“I will give more tickles, but only once Medic lies in bed.”

“Is that a promise, Liebling?” Medic managed to move his head just enough to lock his gaze with Heavy's.

“Da.”

“Ach, then I can’t deny such an offer.”

With their eyes stuck on each other and Medic limp in his arms, Heavy left the infirmary, absentmindedly shutting the door behind them. The day wasn't quite finished yet.

Blue widened eye remained unblinking as it took in the sight. The sound accompanying it was unnecessary but helpful in recognizing what was going on and it certainly wasn't hard to miss it from this proximity, especially considering that he opened the door juuuuust enough to be able to peek inside. He hadn't been planning to stay there, let alone for so long, but once he started observing he couldn’t stop himself.

…

Scout tensed up straightened against the wall and gritted his teeth as the infirmary’s door hit him when Heavy and Medic went through. They didn’t see him, and for once he was grateful. They continued up the hallway and then disappeared from view. The lights switched off leaving Scout in the darkness. He was more than sure of the way out to the rest of the base, but it still took him a few seconds to move.

“Lucky freakin’ bastards.”

[bet-on-me-13]

Sam is Adopted

So! Have you ever noticed how Sam doesn't look like either of her Parents? Her Mom and Dad are Blonde and Ginger, and neither of them have Purple Eyes. How would Sam ever come from either of them?

She tells people that she dyes her Hair and wears Contacts, but the reality is that she was adopted as a baby by them. They had just found out that Pamela was Infertile and they wanted an Heir foe their company, so they decided to Adopt a kid.

But the Adoption Agency didn't have any kids who would realistically look like them, so they just got the first kid they found.

She had been left at the Orphanage by her Mother citing an inability to raise her and an unstable income. She never told the Agency her name, but told them that the baby's name was Sam, named after her Grandfather.

Sam was raised knowing that she was Adopted, but never really put much interest into it. Until one day when she decided that her adoptive Parents support of the Anti Ecto Acts was a step too far for her. She took an Ancestry DNA Test to see if she could find her Bio Mom to get away from them.

The results came back, and she found out that her Mom was a woman from Metropolis named Lois Lane.

[spacedlexi]

"sounds nice... having a partner"

[mydaroga]

Found on Facebook: "Paul getting ready for a home photo shoot with Barry Lategan. Pictures were featured in the Observer Magazine article ‘What Makes a Man Stylish?’, 1968."

Unsure who the woman in the photo is.

[greyedian]

oh my god I was thinking about a jayvik fallout new vegas AU and was like "hm maybe Viktor uploads himself into one of those robots until he can get a different body by like repurposing power armor or something idk" and then I remembered that this guy's name actually is Victor

[disorganised-bagel]

been playing way too much slime rancher recently, and am now getting The Urges to make some kind of rtc slime rancher au

[bookwyrminspiration]

Silly Game Time: What are some of your favorite kinds of candy or sweets in general?

I've just been staring at this ask all day and drawing a near complete blank. I'm more of a spice person, so when I eat sweets it's usually just whatever's around.

I tend to prefer sour/acidic things? Tamarind, lemon, lime, other citrus--and that includes in desserts like cheesecake. I can say with confidence though that I do NOT like nutella or most cakes.

I'll also go for cinnamon or mint. But yeah I'll have to circle back to this I'm for real stumped

[voidsentprinces]

Oh Zenos, it felt like you had so much potential but then they kept you along waaaaaaaaaay past the point of narrative importance. Made you show up in the end as a glorified uber into a final boss fight and then tacked on your final battle to the Hype Battle Music which was the equivalent of a stepping a little to the left, a little to the right and then doing a Quick Time Event to win. And now Zero and the Scions won't top bringing you up in conversation like Zenos was a new hip restaurant we all use to go to and now it closed down due to COVID so now we have to reminiscence about you in passing.

[calbeloved]

POOR WANDERLEY WHAT ARE THEY DOING TO HIS ROOM 😭😭