#come and be completely normal about this with me

[bruhstories]

Bet III

p.1 here & p.2 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right.  He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying. 

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing. 

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is. 

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :( 

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her. 

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice. 

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought. 

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare  for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration. 

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask. 

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :( 

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends. 

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

[bathypelagicbutch]

the first time i was treated even remotely respectfully in public when i first transitioned was at 3am in a 24 hour pizza place while high out of my mind on shrooms. i was in full drag with a full face and it was the first and only time i was ever gendered correctly and respectfully in a public place while presenting femme. i pass now, and I'm thankful that i do, but the amount of effort I've had to put into making my body as acceptable as possible for people just so i don't get harassed for more reasons than being Black in places i don't belong (super white grad school lmao) is wild. i shouldn't have to make myself look like you want me to fuck you for you to respect me, and it really shouldn't be that hard for queer people to realise that that is literally what most of society, including white queers, forces us to do. there's a weird intersection with Blackness and masculinity for both Black men and women that i feel gets pointed out a lot, but i feel like the hypermasculinisation of Black women unless they present sufficiently slutty is something that only gets talked about at length for cis Black women and queer Black women in general. mainly because whenever the dolls try to bring it up the only response is immediate horniness or complete denial. it's also interesting that when i started presenting more masc i started passing, but since then the amount of horny white people who've been unable to remove the rupaulified fucktoy version of me in their brain for long enough to listen to me when i try to talk about how much it sucks being butch and trans has increased. exponentially. you all have too many issues with Black men to even notice how your racism affects every part of how you view Blackness in general.

speaking of! follow up to that earlier thing i said about not being able to be masc and trans without ppl needing to remind you that they only support you for your ability to fuck them ‐ it's worse when you're Black, and you white queens do it too. and i really don't think you realise you do! because I've talked about this with almost every person I've been with (if I've even been allowed to before being dismissed without a hint of concern) and most of them just admitted to doing this at some point in our relationship. so instead of being philosophical I'll just use a few examples from the past 3 years (because they get worse if you go earlier and also i. do not have to)

you don't get to call me sir in bed because I'm masc and you said you want to treat me like a guy in bed (you're gay please stop confusing Black masculinity for being a man and work on your issues before fucking me) and you especially don't get to use this as leverage against me whenever i discuss how racist the relationship dynamic is despite your incredibly vocal support of my activism. you don't get to use my body or the right to demand that i use your body because you have a fetish for Black men, and you aren't allowed to get upset when i point out that this is the most supportive attitude you've had towards any part of me the entire time we've been together. you don't get to take out your frustration against Black people or Black men by making me fuck you, and again you don't get to get upset when i point out how fucked up that is that you call yourself an ally and then only use that allyship to get dicked down. you don't get to assume that because I'm Black and masc i'm the most aggressive top you've ever come across and you don't get to white woman tears your way out of it by using your own transness as a pass. you aren't allowed to enjoy Black bodies if we're only a commodity to you (which you openly admit) and you similarly don't get to white woman tears your eay out of it by using your confused sexuality as a pass.

i think I've made my point so I'm gonna stop! but yeah can you all be normal about Black people thanks a million blushes sweetly

kinda uncomfortable how ppl cant celebrate black trans women unless they are superduperhyperfeminine with 19 layers of makeup + expensive surgeries/weaves/dresses and looking like theyre going to walk the red carpet every day

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Sung Jinwo's significant other, who was with him through thick and thin. Someone who was very close to his family and would often fill in the gaps in his life and family.

Imagine doing your normal routine in the mornjng into to look into the calendar and saw today's date marked up with a note that says parent teacher conference causing you to blink, still sleepy. First of all, you've graduated high-school and is a worker and a part-time hunter. Second, you don't have a child let alone a sibling that's going to scho- oh!

"Sung Jinwo!" You scream as soon as he picked up the phone. You heard a groan and a bit of shuffling before you heard a deep husky voice on the phone "Hmmm? Morning." Followed by a chuckle. "Did you just woke up?" He asked causing you to roll your eyes. "No." You lied with a pout. He knew you very well. "You should get ready, Jin-Ah's parent teacher conference meeting is in three hours." "I know, thats why I called you. I thought you were still asleep." "Come on now darling, I'm not a sleepyhead like you." He laughs.

Imagine Jinwo who was on the other side of the phone, just woke up and is now making his way into the kitchen, chuckling as he listen to your rebut with a smitten look on his face, after all, there was nothing he would trade for as long as your voice is what greeted him as he wake up in the morning. "Shall I pick you up at your place so we could go in there together?" "Nah, your house route is completely on the opposite direction of mine. Let's just meet on the school grounds okay?" "Alright." He replied with a smile on his face. "Well then I need to get going now." "Alright, you do take your time to get ready." He tease

"I love you" You heard him say as you almost ended the call due to this teasing. "I love you too." You replied with a small smile on your face. "See you later babe" "I told you not to call-" "Love you! bye!" "Sung Jinwo you punk!" Although you said that with such annoyance, there was a hind of happiness in your eyes that you cannot deny.

Imagine silently waiting for him at the school gates, playing on your phone with some random blocks game when you heard a familiar step coming close causing you to look up only for your eyes to squint as you try to get a grip of reality if your boyfriend was actually the one jogging right in front of you right now.

"Hi." He said with a cheeky grin on his lips as you stare at him wide eyes. "You- your hair." You utter as you reach out and touch his undercut, causing a shiver down his spine as you do. "Yeah I though a little hair cut wouldn't be so bad, my hair was getting long. Why? Does it not look good-?" "No. No Jinwo. You're... beautiful." You utter with a soft smile and proceeded to mess up his hair. "Funny, we used to be by each others height but now you're taller than me." You whispered. "What was that?" "Nothing, let's get going, its almost time."

Imagine noticing the stare and murmurs that the two of you were receiving ever since the two of you have gotten inside the building and eventually to the room where the meeting is about to be held. And to be honest, you honestly cannot blame the students for gossiping and looking at your way because even Jian-Ah was surprised to see her brother's new look upon seeing him. But the way the young adult, one who seemed to be in the same age as you and your lover, probably the sisters of the other students looked at Jinwo that makes you sigh.

Imagine, it was easy to see the changes that was happening with Jinwo. His growth spurt, this strength and abilities were slowly catching everyone's attention. In comparison to the Jinwo you have grown up with, there was this feeling of confusion and anxiety of not being able to keep up with him. You know you should be glad that he was no longer the weak he once was but at the same time, there was this fear of being left behind by him. But you knew for a fact that he would not leave you behind, that's why you fear that you would rather become a burden for hi- "Ouch!"

"You're thinking of something stupid again." "You bas-! That hurts!" You complain as you clutch your forehead, glaring at your lover who was slurping his ramen without care. "You deserve it for thinking about something stupid." "I- I'm not thinking of something stupid." You utter, looking away from him, down into your ramyeon. It's not stupid for what you are thinking was a fact, a truth that hurts to admit.

Imagine the way he slowly reach out and touch your forehead, caressing the spot where he had flicked you earlier. "Sorry, does it hurt?" When he said that with such lovely look on his face, how could you not soften? "No, I was over reacting." You smile gentle at him and lean on his touch. "Still, I'm sorry." "It's alright Jinwo."

"Thank you for bring me home-" You were cut off with a pair of lips. Wide eye, you cannot help but to be taken a back by your lover's action. Nevertheless you soon melt into the kiss and kissed him back, even hooking your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Thank you for staying by my side all those years." He said as the two of you pull away from each other but still close enough that your foreheads where touching. "I love you and only you. There will be no one else, okay?" "Okay." You chuckle and hug him. Right there was no use in being scared when it was obvious whom he loves. "I love you too."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: I want to write an angst, not sure if Jinwo would be a fit or a blue lock or Genshin character would be a nice victim.

[igotanidea]

The talk : Dick Grayson X reader ( with Bruce Wayne)

A/n : it's a snippet, I might consider writing it fully

Warning: suggestive but not explicit

Summary: it's time for the bees and bird talk with Dick

***

Bruce walking in on a young adult! Dick and his girlfriend y/n getting cosy between the sheets.

Obviously, as a normally functioning adult and a father, even if just a foster one, the batman takes it upon himself to have a talk about bees and birds with his favourite son.

He got it all planned out, schemed, thought out to avoid surprises and misunderstandings.

He actually had the contingency plans from A to Z drafted for a while, only hoping that those would never come to use.

Unfortunately, seeing y/n, with her blouse undone, hair a mess and Dick's hands (and apparently more) on her, forces Bruce to retreat to hide the blush creeping on. The last piece of his dignity is gone and he is pretty sure there's no good way to recover from such a failure.

He had reached the ultimate botttom.

"Hey B, you good?" Hours later Dick found him in the batcave, engrossed in some feigned, quickly fixed work. It was too easy to figure he would hide there to avoid seeing or - god forbid - hear anything.

"Hm."

"You wanted to talk to me about something, didn't you?" He grinned, delighting in a way Bruce seemed to develop an eye twich.

"Hm".

"Great. I got some time before I get back to y/n, so?"

"Get back?" Bruce turned to face his son and immediately regretted it. He seriously wished to erase the sight of lipstick and love bites on his neck.

"Something wrong?" Once more dick flashed a smile, trying to force a reaction out of Bruce.

"hm."

"we're being safe"

"Amazing"

"and she's okay with it"

"Great"

"And I've studied female anatomy so I know a thing or two about --"

Oh dear lord...

"Dick." Bruce was an inch from having a spasm. How ironic it would turn out to be if gotham lost its protector because of certain golden boy growing up.

"hey did you know that --"

"Get out, Dick."

"But I thought you wanted to--"

"I said get out"

"-talk?"

"I believe you got it all wrong. It was Alfred. Yes. Alfred wanted to talk to you. Not me."

"You sure about it B? You want me to talk to Alfred about -"

"yes. Absolutely. Now go. I'm sure time is of essence"

"it is. Though Alfred took some time off, thanks to your generosity, Bruce. So I'll go, sure, but I've already got so many questions that I don't want to search online and--"

"Dick?" Y/n voice sounded dangerously close to the batcave entrance "Where are you? I'm gonna have to go soon and I need a proper goodbye --"

"coming!!!" Dick yelled rushing off the room " great talk, Bruce. We'll continue it later."

Dick left and Bruce was finally able to let out a groan. The masterplanner forgot to acknowledge the fact that sweet kids tend to turn into feral, hormonal young adults and require actual upbringing.

***

"you're so mean to him, you know that?" Y/m muttered, once again with his lips on hers

"mean? Who, me? Ouch! You're hurting my heart here princess."

"you are. He could easily be a DILF, yet is alone and you're tormenting him."

"but if you saw the look on his face --"

"you're only proving my point of you being mean".

"I'm sure he'll get some, some day--"

"but still- mmm!"

"I remind you that you enabled the plan baby.... Played quite an important part in it." Dick started kissing her a little harder, not even trying to hide where he was heading. "Wonder why that is..."

"cause you're also a -- ohh!"

"you were saying?" He smirked, looking up at her.

"-prick"

"Am I?" His hands moved where she liked it "what else?"

"liar..." She gasped. While it was true he didn't tell her why he invited her over and that his father was in, his movements were serving as a pretty good apology.

Even if knowing Dick it was obviously also a way to boost his ego and prove his point and complete his twisted and deranged plan.

"you know what, I've already had one talk, I don't really need another.... Rather keep my lips occupied with something else --"

***

Bruce came out of the batcave only after making sure it was safe.

Mentally cursing himself for having not one, but four boys under his care.

Which meant that this - whatever it was-- was about to happen again.

[lastoneout]

Also another more recent one here!

While wider studies are needed, it does feel really insidious that stimulant medication is misunderstood, demonized, and so strictly regulated that most of us have had to go without for days or weeks at a time sometimes multiple times a year or even EVERY MONTH, and in some places it's almost impossible to actually access at all while the truth is that it is quite literally life-saving medical care for those of us who need it.

I've left the stove on three separate times when unmedicated and I was VERY lucky that none of them resulted in carbon monoxide poisoning or me burning my house down. I've also nearly electrocuted myself or walked into traffic, being off my meds legit feels like all my senses are dulled, I'm far clumsier which leads to injury, forget important things like if I've taken my other meds, meds that if I go off of suddenly or take too much of can cause severe health problems. I've heard horror stories of how hard it is to even just drive safely with unmedicated ADHD and most people don't even realize how unsafe it is until they've gone on meds and learned what normal driving is for a neurotypical person. And the list goes on. Hell, being unmedicated can even lead to losing our jobs, housing, or access to food and support systems, and makes it way harder to keep your house clean, all of which also lead to an increased risk of injury, illness, and death. I've missed rent more times than I can count, racked up credit card debt, had my utilities shut off, all because I just can't fucking remember to pay bills on time without my meds, I've missed fucking black mold in my shower, accidentally eaten food out of date, gotten way too drunk without realizing it, it's a nightmare, it really is.

I really just hate thinking about how many people with ADHD have likely died or been seriously injured or suffered due to simple mistakes that they never would have made if they were properly medicated, and it makes me so angry that ADHD treatment is so hard to get almost entirely based on bullshit scaremongering about addiction. In fact being medicated puts ADHDers at LESS of a risk of turning to alcohol and drugs to make our lives manageable, and it's nearly impossible for someone with ADHD to get addicted to a stimulant medication anyway.

(Not that addicts deserve what happens to them, they need help and support as well, everyone deserves human rights and to have their needs met, this just is a completely fabricated problem when it comes to ADHD and it's normalization is legit killing us. My mom has also nearly died due to not being medicated and she to go through like four different licensed psychatrists until she found one who would actually prescribe ritalin for her, the rest all cited risk of addiction as a reason to deny her even though they should fucking know that isn't a legit concern. One even said she just "didn't want to be held responsible" for her patients forming addictions to ADHD meds. I wonder how she'd feel if she was held responsible for all the suffering her desperation to keep her hands clean has almost certainly caused.)

And tbh I'd also rather a million people get high off adderall than have even one person with ADHD miss out on medical care that can save their life because disabled people shouldn't have to suffer to make up for shit we basically can't do. Why should someone else abusing adderall mean I have to risk my life and go without. Make it make sense.

It is actually way better for 100 addicts to get their fix on pain pills than a single person in pain go without. I call this the "Torture is bad" principle. You should be able to get the good stuff forever after a single doctor's visit. If you're worried about addicts fund rehab centers and needle exchanges instead of torturing people.

[captain-hawks]

hair down!karasu

“you’re so distracting,” you grouse as you feel your roommate’s chin come to rest on top of your head, your fingers stilling over your keyboard mid-sentence. 

“‘m bored,” karasu sighs. “and ya spelled specific wrong.”

tilting your head upward, you glare up at him while whacking the backspace key more aggressively than necessary with your middle finger, “because you distracted me!”

he stands back up, chuckling to himself and sauntering off into the kitchen to inevitably make more noise while you sacrifice what remains of your late-semester soul to the research paper gods. 

to be fair, the issue of him being a distraction is less about his shuffling and tittering about the apartment in boredom and moreso just about…him. 

well, a very specific part of him. 

you’ve been friends with karasu for years, you’re close. exceptionally close, you’d argue. and when the entire first floor of your dorm building flooded out last week, he offered you the spare room in his apartment—no questions asked.

it’s a temporary arrangement, so really, it should pose no risk to the neat and tidy little drawer that you keep your attraction to him shoved into the dark corners of. spending a few weeks underfoot with his warm accent, pretty eyes, dry humor, and gravely laugh shouldn’t kill you.

you’re been compartmentalizing it all like a champ for years, after all.

if subterfuge of unrequited pining was an olympic sport—

but you underestimated one tiny issue that you hadn’t quite thought out the consequences of when presented with the opportunity to cohabitate with karasu tabito. 

one little thing—

his hair.

his at home hair. 

his i’m not leaving the house or seeing anyone today hair. 

his clean, completely product-free, ridiculously attractive hair—which falls softly across his forehead, tickling the bridge of his nose. which flits along the shell of his ears and rests against the back of his neck.

(which makes you want to run for the hills and jump into his arms and flee the country and kiss him until you can’t breathe and—)

it’s funny, really, when you think about it. the fact that you’ve actually never seen karasu without styling wax in his hair somehow. it feels somewhat ridiculous thinking it out loud. 

but restricted exposure throughout the duration of your friendship thus far was clearly for the better, given the way you haven’t been able to stop glancing over at him every two minutes since he got out of the shower three hours ago. since he padded into the living room in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and plopped down on the other end of the couch, idly scrolling through his phone and entirely unaware of the crisis he’d unknowingly thrust upon your unsuspecting, fragile mind. 

because here’s the thing—on a normal day, you can squash them down, these inconvenient feelings of attraction. the way your heart flutters feebly against your ribcage at the sound of his voice, at the curve of his lips when you say something ridiculous that makes him smile. 

at the way he says your name, how you always seem to be the first person he calls after games. how he falls asleep with his head in your lap when you watch movies, the way he doesn’t even have to ask what you want when you’re ordering food or getting coffee because he just knows. 

but this. 

this. 

he’s sitting on the other end of the couch again, lazily running a hand through his hair and blowing it out of his eyes every so often while he taps away at a game on his phone. 

and yeah, you’ve never been quite so attracted to him as in this moment.

it’s not even just the fact that his hair is down, even though the back of your neck has yet to stop burning at the sight of it. 

it’s the undeniable domesticity of it all that has your heart racing in your chest. 

that has your fingers itching to toss your laptop aside, to crawl across the expanse of cushions and into his lap—

“please tell me you’re almost done,” karasu interrupts your treacherous train of thought. 

you find him on his hands and knees in front of where you’re seated sideways against the arm of the couch, positioned between your lazily spread legs with one hand hovering over the lid of your laptop, which he’s slowly pushing closed. 

“hey!” you choke out, both startled by the way your body reacts to his sudden proximity and the fact that you haven’t saved your document in fifteen minutes. 

hastily, you do just that, and the laptop snaps shut with a resounding click that seems to echo off of the walls of the apartment like a beacon while karasu stares back at you for a beat. 

a slow grin of victory spreads across his face when he uses one hand to transfer your laptop to the coffee table, but he makes no move to get off of you. 

“otoya and hiori wanna get dinner,” he tells you by way of explanation. 

it’s not fair how much more attractive his stupid, cute little mole looks with dark strands of hair falling against it—

“and?” you ask carefully. 

you just want to reach out and touch—

“and you gotta eat, too, so i’ve been waitin’ on you, princess.”

fucking pet names. one goddamn crisis at a time.

your ribcage is on the verge of becoming a triage center. 

“well, don’t you—shouldn’t you go and get ready, at least?” you do your best not to sound completely and entirely rattled as you gesture toward his hair. 

he looks up with just his eyes, as if he’s only just now noticing the origin of your afternoon’s torture. “what, does it look that bad?”

is he serious?

he smirks, and—oh. your breath hitches in your throat as you try to figure out when he got so close, when he shifted even higher to cage you in entirely between his tall, muscled frame and the plush, worn-in couch cushions. 

it makes you feel dizzy, being beneath him like this. 

karasu smells like the strawberries he was eating earlier, and your throat goes dry as you think about the way he’d outright fed one to you instead of handing it to you like a normal person when you asked. the way his fingertips had briefly touched your lips—

he smells like the fabric softener he’s used for years, and it’s seemingly the last remaining lifeline left to ground you in this moment. you grasp at it, almost desperately. 

you end up unconsciously fisting a hand in the fabric of his shirt instead. 

he leans in a little closer, close enough that his hair brushes against your forehead. 

it tickles. 

warmth blooms hot in your gut, petals of heat caressing your spine.  

“does it look bad?” he asks again. 

you can feel his breath skirt against your lips. 

“maybe,” you whisper, voice almost hoarse. because you need some sort of an upper hand here. 

he huffs, eyes locked on yours. “liar.”

“you’re distracting,” you tell him again for the—you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve said it today. 

one of his knees is slotted dangerously between your legs, and you try not to think about the way his thighs look in his kit. how often you have to tear your eyes away from the sight of them when you’re watching his games. 

fucking footballers. 

“am i?” 

you nod slowly, and you wonder what his lips taste like. how he kisses. if they’re as warm as the body heat that’s blanketing you while he keeps you bracketed beneath him. 

if he’d methodically break you down like he does to his opponents on the field—if he’d call you some other endearing thing in that pretty accent of his while your legs are wrapped around his waist, while you’re carding your fingers through his hair and parting your lips and gasping his name. 

you wonder if he’d take it slow and drag his nose down your cheek before sliding his lips along the curve of your jaw. 

if he’d kiss you long and deep, licking his way into your mouth with one hand splayed against your throat and another curled around your hip. 

if he’d—

“you’re distracting, too, ya know,” he whispers. 

“what?” your heart’s pounding so loudly in your chest, you’re not sure if you heard him right. 

karasu taps your chin lightly with his pointer finger. “ya read out loud, and ya sing to yourself while you’re cookin’ and cleanin’.”

embarrassment washes over you as you begin to realize what a bothersome house guest you’ve probably unintentionally become over the past few days. “i’m sorry, i’m just so used to living alone, and—“

he cuts you off abruptly, “i said you’re distracting, not that i didn’t like it.”

you blink up at him owlishly, and your chest tightens in confusion as you breathe out what seems to be one of the few last remaining words in the wasteland of your mental dictionary, “what?”

“you have a pretty voice,” he murmurs, thumb ghosting over the edge of your bottom lip. “i like hearin’ it.”

you feel breathless when you exhale the only other thing you can think to say, “karasu.”

his eyes fall shut for a moment, and he smiles. “i love the way you say my name.”

your tongue dances impatiently against the back of your teeth as you swallow, testing the weight of three different syllables—

“tabito,” you whisper. 

he opens his eyes suddenly, and he stares down at you with an expression that has your toes curling against the couch cushions. 

“you should only say that if ya want me to kiss ya,” he rasps. 

your fingers tremble slightly as you reach up and touch his hair, slowly brushing the tips across his mole. he catches your hand when you go to pull away, keeping it there. 

“tabito.”

karasu’s mouth crashes into yours. 

[sematarygirls]

cw: manipulation, abusive behavior, drug use, guilt tripping

rafe who lured you in by being the perfect, doting boyfriend. you legitimately thought you had met your prince charming, and you didn't understand how this rafe cameron was the same one you'd heard all those nasty rumors about.

and on your wedding day, he had you sign a prenup. he insisted it was just a precaution that his dad was pushing for, and that he never in a million years would think that low of you, so you willingly signed it without question. this was normal, after all. he was rich, and you were poor. it was standard practice, right?

you didn't even notice at first how controlling he had become. he insisted you quit your job because he just wanted to take care of you. you could just be his pretty little housewife and let him worry about all that "adult stuff."

but then he began to stop letting you see your friends, insisting that all you needed was him. his behavior became erratic and scary. he would come home late with wide, bloodshot eyes, his pupils taking up so much of the beautiful blue irises you once loved to stare into that they looked almost completely black.

sex became rougher, an excuse for him to treat you like his personal plaything and slap you around by justifying that he was just "caught up in the moment," and at first, you believed him, but it very quickly became too much for you to handle.

the day rafe came home early and saw you packing your bags, you were genuinely fearful of what he might do. at first, he looked like he might raise a hand to you, but then, he spoke: "i-i give you everything, and you want to leave me? after everything i've done for you? i saved you from your shitty life and your shitty friends, and this is how you repay me?" he took a deep breath, running a hand over his head like he usually did when he was stressed. his eyes were wide and glassy, and he seemed on the verge of snapping. "no, no, you're not going anywhere, alright? if you try to leave me, i'll take everything from you. you signed a prenup remember? you have no money, no job, nowhere to go. everything you own was bought by and belongs to me," he reminded you cruelly. "i swear to god, if you even think about leaving me again, i'll make sure you regret it, got it?"

you had no choice but to stay. he was right. you had nothing; he had made sure of that. all you had was him. all you would ever have was him.

[witherby]

I really want to see Littlest Wayne having more interactions with the justice league, especially Hal! That bit of him getting emotional after the baby says his name was adorable 😭

You don't have to tell me twice. Get ready to get a lot of uncles and aunts 🤭 featuring more Bruce x Hal because I'm shameless

Slightly spoilerly warning: ⚠️ Emetophobia ⚠️

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Team

Masterlist is Here!

"Oh! No. No, I don't — I'm good, actually. No thanks."

Clark gives Hal a curious look, but doesn't try to pass you over to him after that initial rejection. He smiles down at you and goes back to gently tracing the tip of his finger up and down the bridge of your nose. Your eyes droop almost immediately, then you're asleep a minute later.

"They're beautiful, Bruce," Diana says, clapping a hand against his back. Bruce, to his credit, barely stumbles.

"No names in costume," he says.

"You literally brought us your infant child to coo at," Barry chimes in, cracking open a bag of chips. "They're in a Cookie Monster onesie. I think we can let it slide just the once."

"Hnn," Bruce mutters. He lets the edges of his cape fall over his chest, cloaking his limbs and torso until he looks like one, solid shape. "Only the once."

Barry grins, zipping past him to stand in front of Clark and gush over your snoozing form. Oliver held you for a minute when Bruce first showed up to introduce you to the team, then Dinah stole you from him and peppered kisses all over your face until you were squealing with laughter. J'onn carefully held you how he was instructed and told everyone you were thinking about how colorful they each looked. Arthur jokingly asked if Bruce wanted him to baptize you. Arthur swiftly lost his baby privileges. Then Diana held you kind of like someone weighing a ham, nodded once, called you "phenomenal," and handed you off to Clark, where you currently remain.

It was a little curious to see Hal so vehemently refuse to hold you when, as far as Bruce can see, he hasn't taken his eyes off you the whole time you've been in the Watchtower. Even more curiously, before Clark did that little nose trick to get you to sleep, you'd been staring right back at him.

Bruce could go Full Investigation Mode on this, but he understands that it might be a bit much to do to someone he's only been seeing for, like, ten weeks. They haven't even talked about labels yet.

So he does a small guilt trip instead.

Just a small one. Microscopic, really.

Completely harmless.

When he holds out his arms for you, Clark reluctantly surrenders, and you snuggle up to your father with a soft huff. Bruce delicately thumbs over your cheek, taking a moment to admire you, then carries you over to Hal and puts his very harmless plan into motion.

"It's a shame you hate my baby."

Hal looks like he got shot. Guilt Trip Plan: 6/10, too traumatizing. Refine for future use.

"I'm kidding," Bruce says, trying to cushion the blow. "Calm down."

"Jesus, Spooky," Hal mutters, rubbing his temples, "do you ever just ask normal questions outright?"

"Of course I do," Bruce says. "Last night, when we were both free, I asked you if you were interested in having se—"

"Okay!" He waves his hands, glancing at you with panicked eyes, which Bruce finds absurd. You're barely old enough to comprehend the fact that you have a body, let alone the ability to start processing language. You don't even know your name. You do kind of recognize Bruce's voice, but mainly when he's changing or feeding you, and only by his tone. It's all just senseless noise for you, otherwise, stimuli you allow to wash over you without putting conscious thought to it.

Bruce sighs and takes a smaller step closer to Hal. Hal takes a step back.

"I'm very curious about where this is coming from," Bruce says, choosing to be blunt. "You're fantastic with children, in and out of costume."

He takes another step forward. Hal takes another step back.

"Yeah, sure — kids and stuff — not babies," Hal says. "Kids can walk and talk and aren't...y'know, breakable."

"The baby isn't made of glass, Lantern."

One step forward. One step back.

"I know that! But they're also, y'know...just there. Kids are just tiny people. Babies are babies."

One step forward. One step back.

"I feel obligated to inform you that babies are also classified as people. They have social security numbers, birth certificates —"

One step forward. One step back.

"You know what I meant, don't get smart with me."

"I'm trying to know what you mean, actually. It's not like you don't want to hold them, I can see in your face that you do. The question is why you won't."

One step forward. One step back.

"Bruce, I need you to turn that gorgeous detective brain off for ten seconds and realize how intense you're being. I'm literally being backed into a corner."

Bruce stops walking. Hal can't walk back anymore because he's flush against the wall. Oops.

He acquiesces with a step back and turns his focus back on you. Your eyes are twitching under the lids. He wonders what you're dreaming about.

"This child is mine," Bruce says quietly. "I'm not asking you to step up and play stepfather, Hal, but this is a package deal. Them, and my boys. If that's too much...if that's a deal breaker —"

"Oh," Hal says, "no. Hey, no, of course it isn't! I'm not like that, B, I'm just — I've never — ugh."

He wills the domino mask away so he can rub his eyes, groaning, then shakes his head.

"They always puke!"

Bruce pauses. Thinks. Comes up empty. "Elaborate."

"Babies! Every time I hold a baby, they vomit on me. It's like some horrible magic trick or something, but I swear to you, I've never held a baby and it be able to keep its formula down."

Hal looks very distressed as he admits this, gesturing emphatically to get his point across. Bruce finds it endearing.

"Babies are the most adorable things on the planet. You think I don't wanna take them from you and snuggle up on the couch all day? I do! But they're gonna hurl about it!"

"Okay."

"I swear I'm not lyi— okay?"

"Okay," Bruce says. "I don't want you to get puked on, and I don't want to clean up more baby vomit than I have to. It stains absolutely everything it touches. It's a nightmare." He shifts his weight, rocking you slowly when you start to fuss. Is it a bad dream, or do you feel stuffy in the onesie? He'll take you home and get you down in the crib, soon. "But that's good to know. We'll figure something out."

"We will?" Hal says. "You aren't upset?"

"No. In fact, thank you for admitting it. I would have been pissed if you made my baby spit up and didn't warn me ahead of time."

Hal snorts. Bruce cracks a small smile, looking back down at your sleeping form. You seem to be settling again.

"So you'll have to wait a little longer to say hi to uncle Hal," he murmurs. "That's fine."

"Sorry for eavesdropping, but if he's Uncle Hal, can I be Uncle Clark?" The Kryptonian asks, almost shyly as he floats over. "Also, I didn't make the baby spit up. Can I hold 'em again?"

"We get to be uncles?? Hell yesssss," Barry says, pumping his fist.

"I will be the most impressive uncle among you," Diana declares, cracking her knuckles. "How do we battle for such a title?"

"You're an Auntie, Di."

"Then I will be the most impressive auntie among you."

"I think we're all just gonna let you have that one. You win."

Diana smiles, triumphant.

[marzipanandminutiae]

the place I used to live, where the fire happened, sold for $1.2 million in October. I just found out online

they renovated it entirely- very stark, very white. very modern. I can't be mad about this; the fire made the interior completely unsalvageable, and anyway, it had burned ten years before this last time. so it was hardly All-Original when I lived there

they changed the layout. I can't place the location of my room, even though the windows are in the same spots. I can be mad about this, but I'm not. I am unaccountably sad

sometimes everything I've bought and made and been gifted and built since then, all the replacements, even through they're the work of my hands or the love of friends and family made real- feel fake. feel rushed and hastily cobbled together. I suppose it's because they're, at most, two years old in my life. in the old place, some things had been with me decades or more

where I live now is older, more ornate. beautiful. full of people who think well of me. it's a good place, it really is. I've rebuilt in so many ways

I wonder if the ghost of Me Before This keeps the millionaires up at night, walking through walls down a hallway that no longer exists. too much a creature of sea-green paint and rattling old doorknobs to fit in their ice-white luxury. I'm not sure she'll ever come back to me- acting out a normal evening return that never was, over and over again. finishing that day as I never got to

I hope they're nice. I hope they have better decorating taste than whoever staged those photos

grief, when it's deferred by the urgency of a survival checklist, bursts out at odd times and places

it was not home. not meant to be. I try to remind myself of that

I want to go home

[schlatt-love-bot]

yuck! part 1.5 - schlatt x reader

So, as I went to begin writing part 2 of Yuck!, I realized I had written a whole one-shot about being friends with benefits with Schlatt and literally included zero smut…it’s unacceptable. Here’s a little smut to hold you all over before I continue and complete part 2 :) 

NOTE: For the purpose of this part, the reader is female and goes by she/her. I know in the original part I left it rather gender neutral…I just haven’t really written much smut that’s not from a feminine perspective, it’s what I’m most comfortable with! Hope you enjoy :) 

IF YOU ARE A MINOR, DO NOT CONTINUE READING! NSFW CONTENT!

The car ride to the cabin was tensely silent. You could tell by Schlatt’s lack of small talk as you drove through the mountain scenery that he was truly thinking hard about something—what exactly, though, you weren’t sure of. You had your hand lazily placed on the center console, and every so often Schlatt would take one hand off the wheel and give it a light pat, signalling to you that he was okay, just deep in his own thoughts. Bored, you began to look him up and down, thinking about all of the things you could get yourself into once you had gotten to the secluded cabin. As your gears got to turning…why did you have to wait that long to get things started? 

You reached your hand over the console and into his space, your fingers lightly grazing up and down his thigh, ever so slowly making your way towards his groin. You saw his eyes begin to widen, never leaving the road, though, as a rosy blush began to creep from his ears across the rest of his face. 

“Woah, what’s this bright idea, toots? I’m drivin’ ‘ere…need to concentrate…” He grumbled, feeling as you began to put more pressure on his semi-hardened member, causing you to giggle at his flustered state. 

“Mmm, well we’re getting really close to the cabin…and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you, Schlatt…” You said coyly, gazing up towards him with hunger in your eyes. He scoffed, continuing his steady watching of the road in front of him.

“Yeah, yeah…sweetheart, the more impatient you’re gonna be…the worse off it’ll be for you later…” His voice became strained the longer you kept your fingers on his now-hardened member, groaning at your touch. Giggling, you looked up, seeing the cabin slowly coming into view. 

“Fine, fine…you’re lucky we’re close to the cabin, otherwise I would’ve sucked you off while you were driving…” Your voice trailed off, as you sat back in your seat, looking out the window. You heard him sigh as he continued to drive, leaving you in a bit of confusion. What was this attitude for? He normally would never decline your advances, especially when it was in a…risqué location. 

Pulling out front, Schlatt put his car into park, not saying a word as he unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbed his phone, and made his way out of the car and to the trunk, where you had kept your bags. Stepping out of the car yourself, the cool winter air nipped at your skin, leaving you with more goosebumps than Schlatt had been giving your lately, walking to the trunk to grab your own bag when it was snatched out from your hands. 

“Hey!”

”Listen, toots…you may have been a brat on the way up ‘ere…but you’re lucky I’m still a gentleman. Not lettin’ you carry this in there, let’s get inside…” He grumbled, throwing your bag over his shoulder as he picked up his own, heading towards the door of the cabin. You sighed, quietly following behind, following him into the cabin. It was still rather cold inside, the wood fire stove not being on yet caused the inside of the cabin to feel closer in temperature to the winter weather outside. You gently placed a hand on Schlatt’s shoulder, walking in front of him to grab your bag. 

“Here…let me take these to our rooms…do you mind startin’ up the heater? It’s cold in here…” You voice trembled slightly due to the chill you were feeling, as Schlatt handed you the bags. 

“No problem…don’t need sweetcheeks to get frost bitten, right?” He chuckled, heading over to the wood stove to see how much firewood was there, and how much he would need to add to kindle the fire. You retreated up the stairs to find two separate bedrooms–even though the two of you were frequently sleeping with one another, you still slept in separate beds, unless the fun times tuckered you both out so much that you felt the need to sleep immediately. Those softer moments, waking up in Schlatt’s arms after a long, tireless night were the moments you found yourself craving, needing his touch in softer, more loving moments, rather than just the sexual ones. You sighed, opting to give Schlatt the larger room, placing his bag down on his bed as you made your way across the hall to put your bag down in your own room. Peering over the banister, you could see a dim flame coming from the heater, realizing he was able to start the fire quickly. Heading back to the entryway, you took your heavy winter coat off, feeling the semi-cool air beginning to prick at your skin as the room hadn’t gotten all the way warm yet. Walking closer, you watched him as he began shoving more firewood in, the flames ever so slowly becoming larger. 

“Nice work, big guy…” Your voice trailed off as you reclined on the couch, eyes watching him like a hawk. He slowly turned to face you, shrugging his own jacket off his shoulders as he eyed you up and down, immediately spotting your lack of a bra through such a tight shirt. 

“Toots…what the fuck are you doin’...” His voice got darker, deeper with lust as he placed his jacket down on the couch beside you, towering over top of you. Arching your back, you began to play coy, needing his touch after a long, desperate car ride. 

“Mmm, don’t know what you’re talking about…” His hands quickly latched to your hips, swiftly picking you up and placing you down on top of his lap as he sat on the couch in front of the fire. 

“You…you know exactly what you’re doin’...such a little brat…teasin’ the whole ride here, sittin’ here looking all perfect with that tight top on…” His words grumbled in your ear as his hands snaked their way up your sides and under your breasts, squeezing lightly. You let out a small yelp of pleasure, causing Schlatt to smile, knowing you were about to become undone with pleasure. 

“Name…name me one good reason why I should fuck you right now, sweetheart. You’ve been playin’ real dirty…really teasin’ me, testin’ me, here..” He growled, nipping at your earlobe as his hands began to massage your chest through your shirt, making you groan—you needed his touch on your bare skin, not like this. 

“Mmm, please…I’ve been as good as I could be…need to feel your touch…” You groaned, pressing yourself lower into his lap, snaking your own hands behind his neck and to his hair, giving him a light tug. He smirked at your neediness, feeling you begin to melt into putty in his hands.

“Use your words, darlin’...tell me…” 

“Fuck…need your hands…on my skin…all over…please…” You panted, through your hooded eyes you could see Schlatt’s shiteating grin begin to widen. He tugged at the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling it off your now-sweaty body, due to a combination of need for him and the intense heat of the fire besides you both. Leaning down, you connected your lips to his, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip before slipping it in as he began to laugh at your state. He gripped at your bare back, soaking in the moment.

“Look at you…at these. Perfect. Fuckin’ perfect..” He growled, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses and bites down your jawline and neck to your breasts, peppering the surrounding sensitive skin with sloppy wet kisses before looking up at you once again. 

“Words, princess…” 

“Mmm, fuck…Schlatt…please…” You groaned, head thrown back in pleasure.

“Please, what…? Words…” He ordered, hovering above your peaked nipples. 

“Mm, suck them, please….pleasure…needed…” You managed to get out before pulling his hair with one hand, forcing a connection between his mouth and your breast. He began going to town, lightly tugging on your fleshy mounds with his teeth, feeling the warmth between your legs beginning to grow in his lap. 

“Shit!! So…so fucking good…” You moaned, fingers tightening your grip on his flowing locks. You felt him hum against your breast, sending chills up your spine. 

“What now, toots?” He panted, looking down at the marks he’s now left painted all over your chest. Your groan spoke of levels of dissatisfaction, missing the warmth he was providing your body.

“Fuck…shit…need you…need you in me…” You begged, grabbing at his wrist to force his hand to your waistband. He snapped his hand back, laughing at how badly you needed his touch. 

“Now, now…you know better…nice and slow, toots..” He said, ever so slowly unbuttoning your jeans before beginning to peel them off of you. You lifted yourself as needed, connecting your own mouth to his neck to pepper him with kisses and hickies as he worked to unclothe you. He growled, pulling at your hair to separate you from his neck. 

“Nu-uh, you know better, princess…no touching, no kissing unless I say so. Got it?” He said, not giving you a chance to respond before his fingers began sliding around your slick folds, laughing as he felt how wet and pathetic you already were for him. 

“So wet already, hmm? How long have you been this needy for me?” He groaned in your ear, sounds of his fingers in your slick filling the air around you.

“Fuck…since…since we were at the apartment…talkin’ about coming here…” You groaned, burying your head in his neck. He let out a laugh, realizing just how long you were waiting for this.

“Mmm, maybe you were more patient than I thought, toots…” His fingers finally connect to your sensitive clit, causing your mouth to pour out a string of obscenities. He smiled at the sight, knowing just how close to fully coming you were. He drew soft, quick circles on the sensitive nub while leaving your neck with more kisses and bites, truly putting your senses to work overtime. 

“Schlatt..fuck! Feels….so..so good…let me cum?” You whined, managing to ask for permission before your release. It was something that the two of you had eventually added to your ‘friends with benefits’ contract a year ago, when Schlatt was growing frustrated with the amount of times you’d come without him. 

“Wait…wait a little longer. Can’t be coming without me…” He groaned, bringing his fingers to his lips to get a taste of your juices he had oh so missed. Your eyes never left his as he sucked his fingers dry, finally taking his hands down to his lap to undo his jeans, sliding them down slightly until his already-hardened member slapped up at his stomach. You let out a groan of desire, licking your lips before looking back at him. 

“Stroke me off, princess. I need to…need to get as close as you are…” He ordered, taking your hand and placing it on his shaft, hissing at the sudden connection. You hungrily nodded your head, stroking your hand up and down, using your fingertips to slide his precum down the rest of his shaft like lube to quicken your pace. Feeling your fingers on the redden tip of his dick made him hiss once more, throwing his head back. 

“Shit, (Y/N)...don’t know how you do this so well…so good…” He moaned, hands tugging at your hair. You knew the quicker you got him to his edge, the sooner he would fuck the living daylights out of you, and with that, you quickened your strokes. Once he began to buck his hips involuntarily towards your hand, he grabbed your wrist, signalling you to stop. Without a word, he lifted your hips, gently placing yourself back on top of him, lining his tip up with your entrance. 

“Words…use your words…” He growled, making eye contact with you, hungrier than he has ever been. 

“Fuck me! Fuck the shit out of me..” You groaned, as he began to sink your hips down on his length before you finished your sentence. Your moans came out together, as you began to arch your back as you bounced on his lap, his hands tightly grasping at your hips. 

“So good…such a good girl…bouncin’ on my cock like the little slut you are…” He groaned, bucking his hips up as he used his hands to forcibly bounce you even harder down on him. Your overwhelmed senses became too much, unable to voice your pleasure in cohesive statements. 

“Shit…shit..Schlatt…gonna…cum…” You managed to get out, fingers once again laced in his hair, tugging in ecstasy. 

“Hold tight, princess…not yet…” He said, snaking a hand back down to your folds to play with your clit once again. You moaned at the touch, totally losing control of all your senses. Seeing how completely at his mercy you were, his edge was coming near. 

“Come with me, toots….cum…” He groaned, his last few bucks getting sloppy as he felt his cock twitch within you, seed spilling into your pussy. Feeling full, the pressure finally tore open through your body, moaning like you never had before as your juices began to flow around his cock, spilling onto his thighs. Despite hitting your highs together, he still bounced you up and down for a few more moments on his lap, before disconnecting you from him, still sitting on your lap as he placed his forehead on yours. 

“You did so good, princess. So needy…” He managed to say, still catching his breathe. You mumbled, still unable to find your words.

“Thank you….thank you..” You meekly said, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. After a few moments of recollecting yourselves, you gave him a knowing look. 

“So…what other part of the cabin should we break in, now…?” 

“Mmm, you tease…I like that idea…let’s figure it out…” He growled, snaking your legs around his waist, heading for the spacious kitchen bar with a large window view of the woods outside your cabin. This was going to be a nice, long trip…

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 1, a familiar stranger

Masterlist Word count: 1.2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content yet.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Did Rafayel find someone to rent my apartment yet,' Zayne questions as he puts two mugs of tea on your coffee table. You shrug in response. 

'Haven't heard anything yet, but knowing him, it'll probably be soon.' Zayne smiles at your sulking expression. He reaches out to ruffle a hand through your hair. You quickly smack his hand away and stare at him with pretend anger. 

'How have you been holding up without me?' That question is loaded, and he knows it. For the past four years, he has been your neighbor. But he has always been much more than that. 

When he noticed you were living on your own, he would sometimes bring over leftovers. Some days you would come home to a note taped on your door with a request to be quiet because he had a long shift and another even longer shift coming up. You started doing the same, but with notices if you had someone over or were doing something that could cause noise. Eventually, you two got to talking and formed a familial relationship. It always felt like you had a big brother looking out for you. 

Ever since he moved to the next city over to work in another hospital, you have missed him tons. Sometimes it hurts when you realize you can't just walk two steps from your front door and be talking to him. Meeting up is even more strenuous than it was before, and you miss him like crazy. It's not just the proximity though, no, it's also that you don't know everything going on in his life anymore. He's doing amazing things, meeting amazing people, helping to make the world a better place, and you barely know the names of his closest colleagues. 

'I'm fine,' but your voice betrays you, trembling throughout your words. Zayne's eyes look worried, and his hand moves to touch your shoulder to comfort you. 'I'm fine, really. Just getting used to being alone in the city again.' 

'You're not alone anymore. You've got Tara, and you get along alright with that new colleague of yours, right? Jeremiah?' 

'I know, it's just...' He reaches out to pull you into his chest. 

'I understand. I miss you too.' 

'I just hope the next person is nice too,' you mumble against his shirt while he gently rubs your back. All this feels so normal, so nice. You're not sure if you'll ever fully get over not living next to Zayne anymore. It was perfect, and now it's gone. You can't blame him though. This was a very important step for his career and you're glad he did it, it just makes you feel like you're stuck in the same place all over again.  

Everything just feels so stagnant, so normal. Like nothing ever changes. You can only tell that time has passed by your growing fingernails and the dust building up on your windowsill... You should really clean. It's been too long. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'This is nice,' Luke awes as he walks into Sylus’ new apartment. The place is completely empty and there's a bit of an echo, but he's right. The place is nice. That doesn't mean Sylus has to be happy about it. In fact, he's not even close to being done groaning and whining about being doxed for the third time. 

Sylus grumbles: 'My last place was nice.' Kieran nudges him over the threshold of the apartment. 

'Stop whining you big baby. Shit happens.' Sylus turns to him with a death glare. Kieran rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in defeat. 'Sorry man. There really isn't much else to say about it.' 

Sylus knows damn well that he's right, he's just not ready to admit it. That last place was a little bit special to him. It was the first place he moved into on his own after a long relationship. He knew his job would always be an obstacle in any relationship, but he thought she had gotten over it. She clearly hadn't.  

When his popularity skyrocketed, she left him. Told him she couldn't keep sharing him, no matter how many times he told her there was no one to share him with. She was part of the reason he started doing solo stuff. He even offered her to stop doing it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. That didn't matter to her. 

Luke and Kieran tried to get him back to who he was, yet even they couldn't ignore the fact that he became a little different. He distanced himself, became harsher, became colder. He wasn't particularly rude or anything, just a bit off-putting if you don't know him. 

'Anyway, I'm going to let your neighbor know we're moving you in this week,' Kieran states and quickly leaves the apartment. Luke gives Sylus a look. 

'What,' Sylus snaps at him. 

'Shouldn't you join him?' Sylus raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger and a lot more intimidating. 

'I just got doxed. Why would I go around introducing myself to everyone?' 

Luke just shrugs. Sylus antics don't do much to him anymore after knowing him so long. 'Fair enough.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The doorbell buzzes. It's ever so slightly longer than the average person would press a doorbell, and so ever so slightly more annoying. Mayorly more annoying because you were just dozing off cuddled up to Zayne on the couch. It has been a long time since that happened. 

You groan and shift, but Zayne tightens his grip. 'Don't go.' His voice is gravelly, tired, a little strained. For a little while you're considering it, but then the bell buzzes a second time. Longer this time. 

'It's just for a second,' you whisper back. He nods and his grip loosens. You get off his chest and quickly shuffle to the front door. When you open it, you have to take a few seconds to digest the picture in front of you. 'Kieran? Why are you here? Does Tara need something?' 

It seems his head short-circuits just like yours has as he takes a few seconds to answer. 'Eh, no. I didn't know you live here. I'm just... I'm helping a friend move in. I'm doing a round to warn people about the noise.' 

'Oh, good to know. Thank you. Who's your friend?' 

'His name is Sylus but he's a pretty private person, so I can't promise you he'll stop by to introduce himself.' 

'Fair enough,' you respond while you think back to how Zayne used to be. It was a similar situation. Took more than half a year before you two would even greet each other when passing in the hallway. 'Well, give Tara my best. I'll probably see you soon.' 

'I will. See ya.' 

'Who was that,' Zayne asks from the couch. 

'Friend of the new neighbor. He's moving in this week.' You grab your phone from the coffee table to check if Rafayel send anything about a new tenant, instead you see a notification from Red Crow's socials. A new post. 

"No smutty chapter this Friday. I have a busy week.   Maybe if you beg, I'll record myself getting off." 

Previous - Next

[ofbatsandballads]

Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What are your thoughts on the possibility of Petunia redeeming herself or atoning for her abuse of Harry? This is more ramblings and musing then coherent ask, sorry.

You mentioned in a previous post that while she might not love him, she is concerned for her nephew’s safety - as well as that her emotions towards Harry are quite complex (similarly to her emotions towards and relationship with Lily, post-magic revelation).

There are many fics where Petunia does eventually break the cycle of abuse she and Vernon perpetuate on Harry (but usually this is the result of either divorcing Vernon or her husband outright dying), but I’m kind of curious as to what you think in your analysis of her character.

Petunia is a tough nut to crack for me when it comes to fics where she is redeemed.

At the very least, the extreme neglect and enforced silence that Harry is raised in just…it’s terrible when you look at it more deeply than the early books intend.

Which is made worse still by later on, when she swings a frying pan at his head (Chamber of Secrets, I think?).

In the first books, I get that as the target audience was young kids, not much gravitas was placed in Harry’s treatment in the hands of the Dursley’s - they were the bad family he escaped into the magical world from, the anti-thesis to the Weasley family later, meant to seem more caricature and buffoonish.

If that frying pan had hit Harry, though? Depending on how hard Petunia swung it, no matter that she was concerned for Dudley (after Harry didn’t even use magic, just pretended to), that could have killed him.

We know Dudley beat Harry quite often with his friends, and Vernon at the very least threatened to do so (and from some of Harry’s lines, likely went through with said threats at times), but little about Petunia’s abuse of Harry is mentioned except in the very early books - her shaving his hair except for his bangs for example, leaving him to go to school mortified - so there’s no indication that she regularly threatened him physically over the emotional abuse, but still.

Not to mention the potential for neglect/abuse that Petunia herself went through, Lily being their parent’s favored child over her, how that in turn also affected her relationship with her sister, and then how that is turned on to Harry…

Petunia’s character, and redemption/atonement for Harry’s abuse is such an interesting concept.

Personally, I was never interested in a Petunia redemption arc. I think she's just as bad, if not worse than Vernon. So I'm going to have to disagree with you.

It's not that Petunia's sitting there feeling bad about how she and Vernon treat Harry and wish she could stop it — she doesn't. It's very clear throughout the books that she isn't remorseful at all.

Her feelings about Harry are complex because Harry is Lily's son. And as bitter and jealous as Petunia is, I think, she used to love her sister. Used to even be protective of her. So, deep down, I don't think she wants Harry dead or seriously hurt (to her standard), but at the same time, she feels justified in hurting him and treating him as subhuman.

See, Vernon truly does hate wizards. He fears magic, he loves normalcy, and he despises the "freaks" that essentially represent everything he hates. He's straightforward and completely honest in his approach.

The reason I sometimes consider Petunia worse, is becouse she isn't honest, she's a fucking hypocrite.

She wanted to be a witch. She wanted to be special and go to wizard school like Lily. She was jealous of Lily that she got to do magic and go to Hogwarts.

Petunia started calling wizards freaks and latched onto normalcy as a way to cope with not being special. I mean, she was told that magic exists, that there's a whole special world of magic out there, but that she isn't special enough to become part of it.

So young Petunia coped by going in the opposite direction. She became as normal as can be. Started claiming anyone special was a "freak" even when deep down she fucking knows that if she got a chance she'd leave and go to Hogwarts in a heartbeat. That deep down she wants to be special.

She transferred that jealousness and bitterness, then toward the wizarding world as a whole onto Harry personally, which is so unfair. Like, I find it disgusting, I find it disgusting how righteous she feels treating him the way they do. She is very similar to Snape in this regard (projecting her problems with Harry's parent onto Harry), just without any of the redeeming qualities since she isn't even all that smart, and she wouldn't give a shit if all her neighbors died one day (Snape would). And Snape was better to Harry than Petunia, let's be real, being an ass to a kid is not the same as starving a kid and locking him in a cupboard.

But I do want to point out, that she doesn't have the excuse of a cycle of abuse (I'm saying excuse because that's what it is. Tragic backstory can be used to explain characters' actions but it doesn't absolve them) becouse Petunia wasn't abused or particularly neglected. We have no indication she was, and I think it's more likey she was treated well.

We're told their parents loved having a witch in the house by Petunia in PS, but when we see Snape's memories, apparently their parents urged a pre-Hogwarts Lily not to do magic. They feared it until it was explained to them. Petunia is biased in what she says. Because while they were supportive of Lily once they understood, I don't believe they ever mistreated Petunia, and I don't think she is meant to be read as neglected.

I mean, Lily wasn't even home most of the year, Petunia was getting all of their parents' attention year-round, and during the breaks, they probably dotted on Lily because they hadn't seen her in months. This isn't neglect or abuse. This is Petunia being a petulant child who didn't get to be showered in attention all the time because her parents wanted to hear from the daughter they only got to see, like, 3 months a year.

I don't think either Lily or Petunia were abused or neglected, and I find it somewhat silly to try and justify Petunia by giving her a tragic backstory when the books make her reasons to hate Harry very clear. These being jealousy and pettiness.

So, I'm not interested in a redemption arc or atonement arc for Petunia or Vernon for that matter. I think neither of them deserves it and the only atonement I'd be interested in for them is a prison sentence for child abuse and neglect.

Yes, Petunia may not beat Harry physically as often as Vernon or Dudley, but she lets them. She watched him be chased by Marge's dog and laughed. She approved of Vernon's and Dudley's treatment of Harry because if she didn't, she wouldn't have let it happen. She stopped Vernon from throwing Harry out of the house when Dumbledore sent a threatening letter to her in OotP; if she cared to stop the abuse she didn't actively participate in herself, she had the power to do so, but didn't. Becouse she thought Harry deserved it. She mistreated him just as much. Looking at him with disgust and scorn and calling him a freak is abuse. Starving and locking him up is abuse. She isn't any better than Vernon.

The only Dursley I can see redeemed is Dudley. He started his journey in the books (btw, in that scene, Petunia thinks Dudley is "too sweet" for telling Harry he isn't a waste of space) and he actually was a child, like Harry. He did what his parents did like every child does. But he shows signs of improvement after Harry saves him from the dementors. He realizes his parents are full of shit.

So, yeah, Dudley is the only Dursley I'm interested in a redemption for. Petunia and Vernon deserve a prison sentence.

[smittenmeraki]

I have so many random ideas of Andreil being found out by the media in the strangest ways. My personal fav so far is them going pro and being on different teams. They end up playing against each other and everyone starts to think their rivals because Andrew keeps launching the ball at Neils helmet. After like 7 headshots from across the court Neil swears at him in german something along the lines of "I know you're doing that on purpose quit being a bitch for the sake of your entertainment or I swear I will empty your candy drawer" and of course Andrew's just there with his blank expression leaning on his racket, knowing Neil will forget all about it when they're home. However, all the fans see is Andrew targeting Neil over and over no matter where he is on the court so everyone thinks they hate each other until some weeks later an article is released with pictures of them grocery shopping together. Andrew is in the cart eating candy he hasn't even bought yet while Neil scans the aisle with a hand in Andrews hair. Another picture of them loading everything into the car, Andrew with a hand on Neils waist as he opens the backdoor. The article is titled something like "rivals or lovers : a deep dive into their history" and it brings up points like Andrew protecting Neil from Riko and Neil getting Andrew to shut down the goal with just a few words (ones no one knows), but also points of them shoving each other and getting in each others faces (tbh they were just flirting but from an outside prospective it was violence because they are never normal) all of the fan theories come to a head when Neil gets interviewed.

"What is your thoughts on the rumors about you and Minyard?"

"Rumors?"

"Yes, the ones about you two being teammates turned rivals turned lovers. Many fans are speculating what your relationship is and several articles have become very popular over it."

"We were never rivals??" Neil is absolutely lost at this idea, complete confusion.

"Really? Never once over the years?"

"No? And what articles? I don't understand how this has anything to do with Exy."

"Its about your career in the sense that Andrew Minyard has been a challenge for you." Neil smiles at the idea of Andrew being a challenge. "There was a really big article that shared some photos of you two together at a grocery store. It's rather unusal to see you two in a domestic setting, can you tell us about that? Many are wondering why you shop together." The first photo is pulled up on the big screen and Neil just stares for a moment, unsure of when it was taken.

"1. Its creepy that that was taken without us knowing. 2. I don't know what you want me to tell you, Andrew's not allowed out of the cart because he's a mence to shop with or maybe he refuses to let me go alone because I constantly forget things. Its just normal every day life, same as everyone else. 3. Because we live together?? I still don't see the relevance any this has to Exy. Many spouses go against each others teams, it's a part of being pro's."

"Spouses? So you are confirming you and Minyard are married?"

"Not on paper. Fundamentally yes. I thought this interview was supposed to be about how our season is going?" Neil sits back, baffled but also slightly smug from the look of shock on the interviewers face.

Meanwhile Andrew is at home with the cats eating a tub of ice cream while watching the interview thinking to himself 'yeah, fucking tell her. Noisy ass drama seeker.'

[istoleyoursphenoidbone]

Danny in the Bathroom

DPxDC

I wanted to try and get back into writing (havent in like a good 5 years), so this might be horrible. But inspired by the song "Michael in the Bathroom" from Be More Chill.

The music and chatter from the party outside pulsed through the door like a heartbeat, distant and muffled. Danny Fenton leaned against the bathroom sink, his hands gripping the cold porcelain edge. His reflection in the mirror stared back, pale and tired, framed by messy black hair and the faint glow of his ghostly aura that refused to fade completely. He couldn’t blame it; even his human half wanted to disappear. He turned the faucet on, letting the water run for no reason other than to give himself a task. It masked the noise outside, made him feel just a little more alone—but not in a bad way. Not in the way the rest of the party had.

He had come here with Jason. Jason Todd, the guy who somehow managed to make him feel grounded in a way no one else ever had. They weren't even officially together, but they'd found some weird balance of trust and shared darkness that felt enough. Or, at least, it used to. Danny had thought this would be one of those rare nights when things felt normal. A party, some laughs, maybe a moment where it was just the two of them sitting outside, away from the noise, watching the stars like they always did. Instead, Jason had vanished into the crowd of people who seemed to orbit around him effortlessly.

"I should’ve stayed home," Danny muttered, running a wet hand through his hair. "Could’ve binge-watched something dumb. Or, you know, not gotten up at all." The faucet dripped. A drunk voice outside slurred through a Whitney Houston song, loud and off-key, and it almost made him laugh. Almost. Instead, it made his chest ache. He used to joke about stuff like that with Tucker and Sam. Now it was just him, Danny—in the bathroom, his phone clutched in one hand as he tried to summon the courage to text Jason.

"Hey, you okay?” he typed, then deleted. “You ditched me. Cool, I’ll just head out.” That went, too. He leaned back against the sink, closing his eyes, letting himself feel the weight of the night press down. The memories of Jason’s grin earlier, the way his voice had sounded when he said, "This'll be fun, trust me," felt like salt in the wound now. Danny had trusted him. He wanted to believe Jason hadn’t forgotten about him, but the silence in his messages was louder than the music outside.

The door suddenly creaked open a crack, and Danny tensed. "Occupied," he called out, his voice sharper than he intended. But instead of retreating, Jason’s head peeked through the gap. His hair was messy, cheeks slightly flushed—not from alcohol, Danny knew, but from whatever chaos he'd just left behind.

"Hey," Jason said, a little breathless. His blue eyes darted over Danny, taking in the slouched posture, the furrowed brows. "I've been looking for you." Danny crossed his arms. "Yeah? You looked really hard." Jason winced, stepping fully inside and shutting the door behind him. "I got... caught up. I didn't mean to leave you hanging." Danny looked away, focusing on the faucet again. "Sure. It’s fine. I’m fine."

Jason stepped closer, the tension in the small room rising. "You're not," he said softly. "And that’s on me. I’m sorry." Danny sighed, finally meeting his gaze. Jason looked earnest, and Danny hated how much he wanted to forgive him just for that.

“I’m not mad," Danny admitted. "I just... don’t do this kind of thing. I’m not you. I don’t know how to be in a room full of people and not feel like I’m invisible—or worse, like I’m not supposed to be there." Jason frowned, then moved to sit on the closed toilet lid. "You think I don’t feel that way? Half the time I’m in a crowd, I feel like a ghost.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them, and for the first time that night, Danny let himself smile—just barely. “I’m serious,” Jason continued. “I don’t know how to do this stuff either. But you? You being here? That’s the only thing that made me want to show up in the first place.” Danny blinked, caught off guard. He let the words hang between them for a moment before he pushed off the sink, sitting down on the tiled floor across from Jason. “So,” Danny said, “you’re saying we’re both disasters?” Jason grinned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Exactly. But at least we’re disasters together.” And suddenly, the noise of the party outside didn’t seem so loud anymore.

[redisthenewblue]

TINKER-Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 2

Part 1

[Name] was jolted awake by a gentle poke to her side.

“Mrggg…” The girl mumbled, rolling over.

“[Name], you need to talk to Headmage Crowley,” Lilia said, and at those words, the girl shot up, her head darting from side to side.

“Headmage Crowley?! Where is he?!” she exclaimed, confusion written all over her face.

“In his office. You need to see him right now while he’s not busy,” Lilia replied.

With that, [Name] rolled out of her makeshift bed and landed on the dresser. She stretched her wings out, feeling the need to wake up a bit more, and ran her fingers through her hair. To avoid drawing too much attention, she decided to stay in her smaller form. She turned to Lilia, who was busy gathering his supplies in his bag.

“Thanks again, Lilia.”

“Not a problem at all… Good luck!” he said.

With a quick nod, [Name] set off to find Crowley. She zipped through the halls, feeling like the school was a giant maze. Finally, she stopped in front of a door that looked significant enough. Peeking at the gap under the door, a grin spread across her face. She took a few steps back to gain momentum and—oh, she got stuck. Maybe she had overestimated the size of the gap. She could see Crowley right there too! Pushing against the door, she tried to wiggle free. With one last strong shove, she tumbled across the floor, fairy dust sparkling around her with every movement. Comically, birds circled her head as she transformed back to her normal size.

“Mr. Crowley, sir,” she paused to catch her breath, “I wanted to talk to you about staying at this school. Before you say anything, just hear me out. I can’t go back home right now. If I do, I’ll be stuck in a horrible house with older siblings who absolutely despise me in Fairy Hollow, a town that feels completely unfamiliar with a future that seems just as uncertain. Please, please, please let me stay!”

Crowley’s eyes widened at her outburst, and he let out an exhausted sigh. “You can stay under certain conditions. You’ll have an earlier curfew, must keep your grades above a B-, no tardies, and if you ever feel threatened, you’re allowed to use your magic.” [Name] lit up, her glow brighter than ever. “Got it! But what about my dorm and uniform situation?” she asked eagerly.

“That will be sorted out later. For now, get to know the school and your classmates,” Crowley said, pushing a magic pen towards her. With a smile,[Name] enthusiastically took the pen and bolted out the door.

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“Pfft. All it takes is a little gust to—Hah! Oh no! The Queen of Hearts's statue looks like it’s been flame-broiled!” Ace exclaimed, his cool demeanor crumbling as he took in the damage from the fight.

“Flame-broiled indeed,” [Name] replied with a mischievous grin, enjoying Ace’s misfortune.

“Where did you come from?! Why is there a girl on campus?!” Ace shouted.

“[Name]?” Grim and Yuuken chimed in unison.

“I go to school here, duh,” she said, sticking her tongue out playfully. “So, what’s going on?”

“It’s Ace’s fault for trying to divert my fire! He should’ve just let it burn you to a crisp!” Grim shot back.

“Who in their right mind would ever do that?!” Ace retorted.

“What’s happening here? Cease this at once!” Crowley called out, making his way over.

At the sound of Crowley’s voice, [Name] froze. She really didn’t want to get blamed for anything, so she did what she does best—she shrunk down. But of course, she wasn’t going anywhere; she wanted to see how this played out. It felt like one of those cheesy Tubi movies she used to watch for inspiration on her inventions.

“Oh no! The headmage!” Ace cried, panic creeping into his voice. It was only the first day, and he was already in deep trouble.

“Not more lashings of love! We gotta get outta here!” Grim, Yuuken, and Ace tried to make a run for it, but [Name] had other plans. Whipping out her magic pen, she tripped the boys with a vine, falling over in silent laughter. This school was going to be full of opportunities for mischief! As they stumbled, Crowley approached with a fierce expression.

“OW!” Ace yelped, clutching a bruised spot on his side.

“Myaaaaah! I’m still sore from yesterday too!” Grim complained.

“As if the likes of you could ever escape my wrath! Did I not just warn you about ‘no more incidents’? And now you’ve charred one of my statues?! It’s almost like you WANT to be expelled!” Crowley threatened.

Yikes… So glad I managed to dodge that bullet!

“No! Please forgive me!” Ace pleaded.

“Hahhh… I wish I had my phone on me. This would totally blow up on magicam,” [Name] said, rolling over onto her side and getting comfortable as she watched the chaos unfold.

Crowley shifted his glare to Yuuken. “And you! You were specifically told to keep Grim under control!”

“I tried to stop him, but…” Yuuken began, only to be interrupted by the furious headmaster.

“This is unacceptable. And you! State your name and grade.”

“Ace Trappola… Freshman,” Ace said solemnly, sulking so much that [Name] thought he might just sink into the floor.

“Then listen carefully, Trappola. You, Grim, and Yuuken will be punished for today’s antics. You’re all assigned to wash a hundred windows!”

“Myah?! This is what you get for making fun of me! It’s all your fault! And where’s [Name]?!”

[Name] felt the urge to storm over and help Grim clean those dirty windows, but she had to keep her wings down and play it cool. 

“What? I have to do it too?!” Ace whined.

“Of course you do,” Crowley scoffed. “You’ll meet in the cafeteria after class. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Ace finally relented.

“Ugh, I can’t catch a break!” Grim groaned. “I’m already worn out from a full day of cleaning. I can’t believe we still have to wash a hundred windows.”

Yuuken, clearly annoyed, cut in to silence Grim’s complaints. “We just have to suck it up and do it. You didn’t help at all earlier anyway…”

That’s when it hit [Name]. Yuuken didn’t snitch on her when Crowley asked where she was. In a way, she owed him something, but she just didn’t know what. Then it clicked, and she snapped her fingers.

“I know!”

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With a sense of urgency, [Namel hurried toward the ramshackle dorm, logs of wood trailing behind her. All she needed now were some metal scraps, screws, and a bit of wood polish to get things rolling. As she turned the corner, her wings twitched—a telltale sign that something was about to happen. Maybe it would be wise to take a different route to the ramshackle. "Hey, hold up there! No fair getting a head start! Wait!" The unmistakable voice made [Name] shake her head in frustration. Of course, it had to be them. 

Just as she was about to turn around, something knocked her to the ground along with the logs. "Outta my way!" a boyish voice shouted, fading into the distance. As she tried to get back on her feet, Namel stumbled over the logs in a rather embarrassing fashion. Her previously calm expression morphed into one of pure fury. She whipped around to see who was responsible for this mess—it was none other than Ace Trappola. Taking a moment to gather herself, she stood up, piled the logs together, and tied them securely. With a sprinkle of fairy dust, she made them float again. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she couldn't deal with this chaos right now; she had to get to the mirror hall.

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"This is not good..." Ace winced, clearly feeling the weight of the situation.

"What am I going to do?! How am I supposed to break this news to my mom...?" One boy was in full panic mode, realizing he couldn't afford to lose his place at NRC.

"Well... there might just be a glimmer of hope," the headmaster chimed in, offering the students a ray of optimism. "There’s a slim chance we can fix this chandelier."

"Wait, really?!" The boys shouted in unison, their hopes lifted.

"The magestone that powered this chandelier was sourced from the Dwarfs' Mine. If you can find a magestone with the same properties, we might be able to make the repairs."

"Then I’ll go look for a magestone! With your permission, sir!" one of them declared, determination shining in his eyes.

"Just a heads up—I can’t guarantee that any magestones are still out there. The mines have been closed for quite a while now, so it’s possible that all the magestones have been mined already."

"I'll do whatever it takes to avoid getting expelled, sir!" the boy insisted, desperation in his voice.

"Hmmm... Alright then. I’ll postpone your expulsion for just one night. But if you don’t bring back a magestone by morning, then all of you are out." Crowley negotiated, setting the stakes high.

"I understand, sir! Thank you so much for this chance!"

 "Okay, let’s get moving. We need to find a magestone and wrap this up," Ace said, his shoulders drooping as he let out a heavy breath.

"You can reach the Dwarfs' Mine instantly by using one of the gates in the Mirror Chamber," Crowley informed them.

"Yes, sir!"

"Why do I keep running into you guys...?" [Name] grumbled as she stood at the entrance of the mirror hall, eyeing the chandelier on the floor with a frown. "How do you always manage to get into trouble?!"

Yuuken simply shook his head, muttering, "Grim and Ace..."

"Hmph." [Name] replied, "Who's that, and why is he staring at me like I’m the elephant in the room?" She pointed at the boy who was looking at her with wide eyes.

"Maybe it’s because you’re the only girl in an all-boys school?!" Ace shot back, much to [Name]'s irritation.

"Shut it," she hissed, switching her focus back to the boy who looked completely taken aback. "What’s your name?"

"Deuce... Spade…" he managed to say, still looking a bit overwhelmed.

"Deuce?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Please stop looking at me like that."

"Sorry!" he said quickly, before turning back to the boys.

"We can’t waste any more time. Let’s go! Dark Mirror! Take us to the Dwarfs' Mine!" Deuce urged enthusiastically.

"Huh?! Wait!" [Name] exclaimed, feeling herself being pulled into the portal. She desperately tried to grab onto the smooth floor, but her efforts were in vain.

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"So, this is the Dwarfs' Mine... A long time ago, it was overflowing with magestones," Deuce remarked, taking in the surroundings. 

The girl rubbed the spot on her head where she had landed. "Are you serious right now?!" She quickly dusted off her pants, her wings twitching as they prepared her to take off back to campus. 

"Where do you think you're going, insect?!" the cat called out, a hint of annoyance in its voice.

"Back to NRC," she replied flatly, not bothering to look back.

Just as she was about to launch herself into the air, she was suddenly tackled by a ball of fur. 

"Get off me! How are you so heavy?!" [Name] struggled to push the cat off her.

"Nyah! You left us behind near those statues!" the cat exclaimed, indignation in its tone.

"That wasn't my fault, was it?!" [Name] crossed her arms defiantly. "But... I guess I can help you find the magestone. I could use a little adventure anyway."

"Look, everyone! I see a house over there. Let's check it out and see what the folks there have to say," Ace suggested, his shoulders slumping in a casual manner.

"Hello? Is anyone home...? It must be empty. This place looks like it’s been abandoned," Deuce said, glancing around.

"Bwah! I just got a spider web on my face! Ptchoo! Ptchoo!" 

"Wow, these desks and chairs are tiny! Did kids live here? One, two... seven! It’s like a clown car in here," Ace joked, managing to elicit a giggle from [Name].

"When the mine was thriving, this house must have been a really lively spot," Deuce mused.

"Well, standing around here isn’t going to get us anywhere. If we want to find a magestone, we've got to go inside the mine. Let's head in," Ace declared, stepping out of the house.

"You want to go in THERE? It’s pitch black! Insect! You go first! You’ve got that weird glowing thing around you," the cat retorted, a hint of fear in its voice.

An irked expression crossed her face. "Wuss," she muttered as she stepped into the cave, her glow lighting the way.

"What, scared of the dark? Pathetic," Ace teased Grim.

"Myah?! I’m not scared of anything! I’ll take the lead! You all follow me!" Grim puffed out his chest and moved in front of [Name].

"Whoa, hold on!" Deuce warned the others.

"What now?" Ace asked, clearly annoyed.

"There's something up ahead!"

At that moment, [Name] felt a bone-chilling sensation crawl up her spine. Turning around, she gasped at the sight of a ghost, her wings instinctively spreading out as a defensive measure.

"Do make yourselves at home... You can stay forever!" the ghost rasped, a cold aura enveloping the cave as it spoke. More ghosts emerged from behind the first one.

"More ghosts?! They're floating around here too!" Ace stepped back, ready to defend himself with his magic pen.

"If we stop to fight, we’re never going to get anywhere. Let’s just keep moving," Deuce reasoned, trying to keep the group focused.

"Sure, but don’t act like we voted you as team leader. We’re here because of that ridiculous stunt you pulled," Ace shot back.

"Oh? I’m pretty sure this all started because you tried to dodge your window-cleaning punishment!"

[Name] listened to the boys argue, feeling her blood pressure rise. She just wanted to rip her hair out in frustration.

Yuuken watched [Name]’s face twist in exasperation. From what he had seen during orientation, he didn’t even want to imagine how she would react now. He cautiously covered his ears, bracing for her outburst.

"So, we’re digging up ancient history now? If we're getting into it, this all started when furball here torched that statue!" Ace pointed an accusing finger at Grim.

"Myah?! Maybe you shouldn’t have made fun of me, then!" Grim defended himself.

"SHUT UP!" [Name] snapped, startling the boys into silence. The cave echoed with her voice, and they could have sworn they heard birds fleeing from the nearby trees.

"Everyone, just calm down," Yuuken attempted to diffuse the tension.

[Name] scratched her neck sheepishly. "Sorry..."

"...iiivvv... ...oooouuu..."

"Huh?!" the group gasped in unison, fear creeping into their voices.

"Wh-where's that coming from? [Name], was that you?" Ace asked, his eyes wide.

"No! Why would that be me?” [Name] whispered, hugging herself tightly.

"...neeevvvaaa... ...iiivvv... ...ooouuu..."

Why did [Name] let herself get tangled up in this mess? Would she even make it out alive in time for her first day tomorrow?!

"Sounds like... it's getting closer..."

"Stooonesss... Stooonesss aaare miiiiine!"

"There it is!" Yuuken pointed out the looming monster.

"What is that?!" Deuce’s eyes widened in horror.

"Myaaah! No one said there'd be monsters! Let’s get outta here!" Grim tugged on Yuuken’s pants, panic in his voice.

"That thing is super creepy! But didn’t it just mention something about 'stones'?!" Ace exclaimed.

"Stooonesss... ...nevvva give stooonesss...!" The monster swung at the group, its movements threatening.

"So there ARE still magestones here!" Deuce concluded, his eyes gleaming with determination.

"Myaaah... Even as a master sorcerer, I... I don't think I can take that thing down!" Grim admitted, his bravado fading.

"Are you really a master then?" [Name] couldn’t help but tease the cat, even in such dire circumstances.

"But we need a magestone or we’ll get expelled! I’m going in!" Deuce charged toward the monster, ignoring the warnings.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

"You can't do this alone!"

But Deuce brushed aside their concerns. "I won't be expelled! No matter what!" 

"Get lost! Get lost! Get loooost!"

Deuce cried out as the creature lunged at him.

"Oh no! Loosey-Deucey is in trouble! Not on my watch! Heeyah!"

"Oof!" Ace hit the ground hard, wincing in pain as his muscles tensed.

From the sidelines, [Name] struggled to contain a laugh, watching the boys get tossed around like rag dolls.

"Myaaah! Keep away from me!" Grim raised his paws in sheer panic.

"GRRRAAAWWRR!" The monster let out a fearsome roar.

"It's like nothing even phases it!" Grim shouted in disbelief.

"Did you just see that sparkle?!" Yuuken exclaimed, staring past the monster at a glimmering rock.

"Look behind the monster! There's something shining in the mineshaft!" Ace said, pushing himself up from the floor.

"Could that be a magestone?!"

"GWAAAAAAAH! Nooo, I won't let you take the stooooone!" The monster attempted another strike. [Name] flinched, that attack almost hit her.

"Yuuken, we need to get out of here, and fast! That thing's going to turn us into tuna paste!" Grim pulled Yuuken by the sleeve.

"Retreat!Retreat! Retreat" Yuuken called out to the others.

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"This should be far enough, right?" Grim panted as he rolled onto his back.

"Owww... What was that thing? No one warned us about something like that!"

"That was definitely not your average ghost."

"Let’s just give up and go home. I'd gladly take the expulsion if it means I never have to face that thing again." Ace sighed, resigning himself to the idea of leaving NRC.

"What?! No way, that's not happening! I'd rather face death than get kicked out of Night Raven! How can you give up when the stone is right there?" Deuce shook his head vigorously, refusing to back down.

"Pfft. Easy for you to say, considering you’re not even half the mage I am. If you want that stone so badly, go get it yourself. I'm out." Ace turned to walk away, but Deuce shouted after him.

"Oh YEAH?! Fine, just run back to your little coop, you big chicken!" Deuce taunted, momentarily breaking character.

"Whaaaaat?! Who are you calling a chicken, huh?!" Ace shot back, crossing his arms and stepping closer to Deuce.

"Whoa, Deuce... Did you just, like, totally change personality there for a second?"

"Huh?! Sorry... I lost my temper for a moment." He cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed.

"So, what do we do now?" Yuuken squatted down, looking to the others for guidance.

"Can't you guys just blow that thing up with magic?" Grim directed his question at Ace and Deuce.

"Can't you do something magical yourself?" Yuuken asked Grim, raising an eyebrow.

"The headmage said it himself... magic has its limits. If you can't visualize your magic clearly, it's not going to work." Deuce explained to Yuuken and Grim. "Using magic on a larger scale or trying different kinds of magic requires training."

"Exactly, that's why magic academies exist. It takes a ton of practice before you can just snap your fingers and make your thoughts manifest as magic. And the more flustered you are, the more likely you are to mess things up." Ace added in.

"So that's why Grim can only summon fire," Yuuken said, taking a jab at Grim's ego.

"Hey! Just you wait! I'm gonna learn to use way cooler magic than that! I'm just getting started!" Grim shot back at Yuuken.

"Anyway, we need to come up with a plan to defeat that creature and grab the magestone," Deuce reminded everyone.

"Yeah, just like last time with the chandelier, right? You 'found a way,' and now look where we are. We just fought that thing and it wiped the floor with us. So what's your grand plan, genius? Because I definitely don't trust you to wing it!" 

"What?! You're the one who—"

"And here we go again," Grim sighed, realizing this was going nowhere.

"So, I guess we should all just get expelled then," Yuuken shrugged, sounding indifferent.

"What?" Ace and Deuce exchanged bewildered glances, taken aback by Yuuken's sudden defeatist attitude.

"Whoa, that was a bit harsh. Where did that come from?" Grim's eyes widened at Yuuken's unexpected demeanor.

"Why not try working together for a change?" Yuuken suggested earnestly.

"With Loosey-Deucey? No way! He'd get me killed!" Ace shot back at Deuce, dismissing the idea.

"Like I'd enjoy teaming up with you?!" Deuce retorted.

"What if we actually came up with a solid plan first?" Yuuken proposed.

Ace clicked his tongue in annoyance. "A solid plan? Like some buddy system? Are you kidding? You always say the most ridiculous things with a straight face, [MC]."

"Agreed. There's no way I can work with him." The blue-haired boy shook his head defiantly.

"Yeah, but... getting expelled on the first day? That's pretty lame too. Maybe even lamer." Grim pointed out.

Ace stuttered, caught off guard by Grim's comment, "W-well..."

"Yeah, there's nothing cool about that!" the black-haired boy added.

"Ugh... Fine. Let's just get this over with. All right, Yuuken. What's the plan?" The orange-haired boy asked, sounding resigned.

"Yuuken… Is this plan of yours really going to work? I'm scared—I mean, I'm a little... uh, hungry," the cat confessed.

"Then let's brace ourselves for the worst," Yuuken said with a hint of pessimism.

"Heh heh. That's not exactly encouraging! Keep it loose and lively! Let's do this!" Ace declared, pumping his fist in determination and flashing his trademark smile.

"Wait! I feel like we’re forgetting something..." Deuce said, deep in thought.

"That monster really must have done a number on you," Ace chuckled.

"Whatever!" Deuce shot ahead of Ace, ready to take action.

What do you guys think they forgot in the mines???