#don't hate me for this please x')

[azulhood]

Conversations between best friends has often led to some reckless/stupid/not thought out at all decisions. Like one conversation the amity park trio had where Danny said that he couldn't see Tucker as a doctor (the medical kind) to which Tucker responded with "Alright, bet." and enrolled in medical school. ----------------------------------------------------------------- Bruce Wayne and Tucker Foley somehow by coincidence *cough* clockwork* became friends. And stayed friends even after Bruce dropped out and Tucker went on to finish med school. It was a strange friendship that was mainly just Bruce calling Tucker from the weirdest locations and asking things "Out of curiosity, if an immortal nutjob wanted you to marry his daughter and become his heir what would you do? uh-huh, uh-huh, really? ok, thanks." and meeting up for coffee every now and then. It was during one of these coffee meet-ups that Bruce confessed that he wanted to adopt a recently orphaned child by the name of Richard. There was currently push back from people who didn't think 'Brucie Wayne' would be a good parent and from others who didn't want a random kid having a chance to inherit the Wayne fortune, the media was also having a field day. Everyone kept asking him to "reconsider" and doing everything they can to stall/stop the adoption process. Tucker, being the good friend he was, said "Don't worry, I got this" Stood up from the cafe table, walked to the nearest library and politely asked to use one of their computers, spent a good ten minutes on it, printed something out on the library's printer, walked back to the cafe where he left Bruce waiting. And finally, he handed over the paper with the words "Take this." and continued drinking his now cold coffee. Bruce was, understandably, confused. "What is-" "Trust me, it'll work." Tucker assured him. That is how Bruce Wayne adopted one Richard 'Dick' Grayson.

And after that, Bruce went to Tucker whenever he came across a kid that he wanted to adopt, which was often. It's one reason why Tucker will do everything in his power to make sure Danny and Bruce never meet for fear that the Gothamite might try to add the Halfa to the growing army of children. Aka

Tucker Foley is The Guy

[c0tt0ncandi]

I hate when I hyperfixate on something and then get in too deep and hurt my own feelings. Sinners rant. Wunmi and Michael rant.

I was scrolling and saw that video of the cast standing outside for pictures. It's actually two videos like that. When Wunmi is wearing a blue dress and one where she's wearing a floral dress I think. Mind you in both videos she's standing next to Michael. Why is it that they ALWAYS split them up? Why is it a problem to have this full figured dark skin woman standing next to MBJ the star of the movie?

Ryan Coogler literally looks like he goes in for a hug, but tells her something. Her smile drops and he stands between them. Why? She and Hailee were literally laughing together and he comes over to stop her with a "hug."

Why?

The other time she and Michael had a moment where they both looked at each other and smiled then held hands. He lets her hand go and shoved Miles in between them and once again her smile drops. Why? Even during interviews they sat him away from her or had someone sit between them as if it's forbidden.

I understand I'm taking it personal because I always care about what's going on with black women and how they're being treated. So I'm not going to ignore that, however this is being done on purpose. Videos of Michael and Wunmi usually involve such admiration and or laughs so why would you not want to push that? Black women are usually always the biggest supporters so why not cater to us as well when it comes to interviews, seating arrangements, and pairings?

Why do we have to watch one of ours get pushed aside? We'd like to see one of us get some love too. Was Annie not as important to the movie as Mary? Like what's happening? Why?

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: Baby's First Commissioner Meeting :)

TL:DR This Post: Danny (orphan) gets poisoned with blood blossom extract by Vlad. He runs away from him and ends up under the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman! Starry is loudly pushing her batdad agenda.

(Also known as "Late At Night, When The Nightingale Sings" on my ao3!)

This was a fun rough idea I've been sitting on for weeks, thinking about how Commissioner Gordon and Nightingale's first meeting might go.

---------------

Commissioner Gordon likes to think that he's adjusting to the new normal of Gotham very well, -- the new normal being grown men running around dressed like bats, in military-grade strength body armor, committing acts of vigilantism, -- and slowly, little by little, he was no longer being surprised when this new normal pops up out of the shadows like the world's most terrifying daisy. His shaving lifespan thanks him for it.

....

The kid is a surprise though.

Granted, he seemed to be a surprise to the Bat too.

There's been a string of murders lately, -- which, in Gotham, is kind of like saying there's been another storm during monsoon season. And there's just been another; in some dilapidated building down in south Gotham, with the broken, boarded-up windows and mildew-crawling walls to match. The victim is a man in his thirties, multiple gunshot wounds to the chest, left in the center of the room for the blood to pool out around him.

The place is already secured when he arrives, the building swarmed with officers and the forensic detectives. The Bat emerges shortly after he does -- or, he might've been here the whole time, hiding someplace dark and shadowy. For his own sanity, Gordon doesn't think about it too hard.

The kid is a surprise, and he appears like a bolt of lightning.

He shows up in the middle of a conversation Gordon is having with the Bat.

A whistle, sharp and loud, slicing through the air, meant for open air rather than a confined space. Gordon's ears pierce and protest the sound, and the solemn, murmured chatter floating through the room abruptly cuts off like the swing of a gavel. As he turns towards the sound -- as they all do -- he swears, up and down, that he sees Batman's shoulders jump, just slightly.

At the source, perched on the window, is a boy. A boy in a gray-blue scarf and an oversized black hoodie, one that hangs off his frame and has ace bandages wrapped around the wrists in some attempt to cinch the sleeves. The hood is up, big like the rest of it, and threatens to swallow the upper half of the boy's face whole in the fabric. What upper half Gordon can see, is smeared with some kind of opaque, black face paint. He's holding onto the side of the frame with one hand, on his hip is a grappling hook. A familiar grappling hook.

Gordon has multiple questions, and his officers tense up.

Martinez puffs up, brows furrowing as his face shapes into a frown. Shoulders rolling back. "You can't be here, kid--"

The reaction is immediate, like a spark to gunpowder, the boy yanks his fingers from his mouth and his mouth twists into a scowl. Head snapping over to Officer Martinez, his hood manages to stay on but Gordon swears that as he bares his teeth, the glint makes them look sharper than they should be. His voice is rasp and quiet and harsh; snappish in its hissing; "Put a fuckin sock in it, Martinez. I'm not stayin."

Martinez reels back, and the boy immediately veers his attention off him. Like a switch, his demeanor drops. Despite half his face being covered, his mouth twists into a cringing, apologetic smile. Slanted and off-beat, embarrassed. It'd be disarming if this wasn't Gotham, and if he didn't just hiss at Martinez like he was about to bite his head off.

"Sorry." He whispers, voice deceptively polite and softer now. Gordon has to strain his ears to hear him. "I was looking for him."

He points his finger towards-- Gordon? No, Gordon follows the direction, and finds himself looking at -- the Bat.

The Bat, who always looks stiff as a pole, now looks even stiffer. Somehow. Well, the explains the grappling hook attached to the boy's waist.

"What are you doing here?" The Bat says, gruff and unable to completely smother the stumble of surprise in his tone.

The boy still holds a sheepish smile, and slips off the window ledge. His feet hit the creaky boards with a near-silent thud, the Batman finds his feet and rapidly begins crossing the room.

Gordon notes the slight tremble in the boy's legs as he straightens. He adjusts his scarf, which droops close to his knees now that he's standing, and slings a backpack -- how long has had that? -- off his shoulders. When the Bat reaches his side, he does as he always does, and looms over the boy like a spectre. A threatening mass of shadows cloaked in all-consuming black. Standing next to him, the boy looks teeny in comparison.

The Bat is a man who terrifies even the most hardened criminals, Gordon has seen grown men shiver in fear at the mention of his name. And yet when the boy looks up at him, he doesn't even flinch.

Instead, his sheepish smile melts away like ice under the sun, holding only traces of his previous embarrassment. It remains as a shadow on his face, a small upturn at the corners of his mouth. The boy pushes his hood back just enough to reveal glinting, ice-flint eyes surrounded in tar-black face paint. He holds the backpack up with one arm. "You forgot this."

[bqstqnbruin]

Always the Bridesmaid

I'm interrupting my regularly scheduled programming (again)(please read this series) with a fic that I came up with when I was writing a happy ending for @laurenairay, which, considering that is weird for me, I had to balance out the universe with this fic instead.

This is reader insert and for the most part the reader is gender neutral, but does present societally more feminine (mention of doing their hair and makeup, wearing a dress).

Have fun!

Warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, I was mean to Quinn

WC: 5528

______________

You were always told falling in love with someone would take every part of your heart and have you give it to someone else. Falling in love was supposed to be a whirlwind of joy, sadness, anxiety, excitement, fear, happiness, pain, and bliss. Your parents made you believe that loving someone meant your life would change, hopefully for the better, and you would be able to share your life with someone who wasn’t supposed to leave. 

He told you he was taking you out for dinner, to be ready when he got home. You knew you were going to one of the fancier restaurants in town, taking special care to do your hair so not a strand was out of place, do your makeup just the way you liked it, and wearing your favorite outfit that you took the time to steam the wrinkles out of so that you didn’t look like you had spent the entire day rotting on the couch, even though you did.

You knew what he was going to ask.

____________________

“What are you doing right now?” Quinn’s head pokes through your bedroom window, your boyfriend climbing into your room, trying not to laugh as he struggles to bend the right way to make it through without getting hurt.

You turn the page in your book, not bothering to look up. “I’m in the middle of taking over Poland,” you deadpan as he makes his way over to your bed, plopping himself down at your feet. “One day, you’re going to break your leg or something doing that.”

Quinn’s bedroom in your respective family’s lake house’s was opposite yours, allowing the two of you to see what the other was doing whenever the curtains were open. Since you were younger, that was your signal to each other that they could come over. You thought it would involve using the front doors, but Quinn took it as an excuse to truly act like a twelve year old, despite being older than that, and makeshift a ladder from the tree that was right there. 

He grinned at you, leaning against the wall and starting to fiddle with the fringe of the blanket sitting at the foot of your bed. “I want to go do something.”

“We haven’t even been here for seventy two hours and I’m pretty sure you’ve been active for seventy of them.”

“Please,” he whines, leaning over so that his body is parallel with yours. You try to ignore him as you attempt to focus on your book, feeling his eyes practically pierce your shin. “I want to go for a walk.”

“If you can scale the side of this house, I’m sure you can do that just fine.”

“I want company.”

“You have two brothers.”

“They’re asleep.”

“We both know if either of them wanted something from you, they would not hesitate to wake you up.” 

“But I want you to come with me.” You put your bookmark in to save your space, giving him an unimpressed look. “Please? How often do we get to do things where it’s just us?” He takes your hand in his, the calluses on his hands from using his stick in his driveway back home without his gloves surprisingly soothing to you. You roll your eyes, Quinn nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as you can’t help but smile.

You pull him off the bed, your book all but forgotten, Quinn trailing you like a love-sick puppy.

____________________

You got ready way earlier than you needed to be, anxiously pacing around your apartment you shared with him. You could see him in every corner; it was his apartment first that you had eventually moved into. The furniture was all his, the decorations that were there were chosen by someone he paid rather than the two of you picking it out yourselves like you wanted, even the books in the bookcases weren’t ones you picked; half of them were just for show, those coffee table books on topics you didn’t care about, but looked impressive to those who didn’t know either of you. 

____________________

“This is how you decorate?”

You roll your eyes at him as he flops on your bed. As usual, Quinn was being no help to anything, but it was your first time being with each other since you left for college. “I’m going to be here for a year, why do more?”

“You don’t even have a picture of us in here.” He sits up to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap. He kisses the top of your head, you letting your eyes flutter closed as you exhale against him, curled into his chest.

“My roommate keeps bringing guys back,” you tell him. “Four of them would see a picture of you and ask me to send you their highlights.” Quinn burst out laughing, throwing his head back and sending a shiver through your body. You missed hearing him in person, being with him and being able to touch him. 

You missed him. 

You pull away from him slightly to kiss him, his hands tightening, bunching up your shirt in his fists. Thank god your roommate was away this weekend.

“Leave room for Jesus,” one of your friends barges in, Quinn practically launching you off him. You could feel the heat rush to your face, convinced it was visible from space by the smirk on the intruder's face. “Party tonight at Kappa house.”

You exchange a look with Quinn, trying to get a read on his face before looking back at your friend. “Ok?”

“Are you two coming?”

Quinn shrugs, leaning back on your bed, the hem of his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin that made  your heart race. That stupid smirk on his face told you his answer. “Sure.” 

Your friend squeals, launching into talking about you borrowing clothing, getting ready, making sure all three of you look as fantastic as possible for what was all, apparently, your first college frat party. 

Two hours later, you were in a different room down the hall, pre-gaming, cringing as your friend thrust a shot of rosé wine into your hand, immediately following it up with raspberry vodka. You nearly gagged after downing the combination that never should have existed, looking at the disgusted look on Quinn’s face that mirrored your own. “I wish I never drank that,” he sputters out, sticking his tongue out as if the air around him would get rid of whatever that lingering taste was. 

“I’m never drinking vodka again.”

Quinn shrugs. “You never liked it much anyway.” You look at him for a second, not sure if you were unable to see the connection he was trying to make because you genuinely didn’t know, or if the horrible alcohol was somehow already fogging your brain. “Remember a few summers ago when some of our hockey friends came up to visit? They brought vodka and you hated it.”

“Was that the night I fell asleep in your bed and your parents freaked out when they found us?”

“It was the night you fell asleep in the bathtub with Jack, actually.”

You cringe, biting your bottom lip, wishing that he hadn’t brought that night up. Nothing happened between you and his brother, but it was easy to see why Quinn was annoyed at the sight of the two of you. Actually, you remember telling him nothing happened, because nothing did. So why did he get mad at it? “Why would you bring that up?” 

Quinn shrugs, turning his attention to the group of guys cheering on another as he shotgun a can of beer. “Just made me think of it.” 

____________________

He texted you that he was downstairs, ready to pick you up, just as you agreed he would do that morning. He was late coming back from practice, letting you know that he took the time to get ready at the practice facility so he wouldn’t have to come up and do it. 

You felt yourself exhale, the anxiety in your chest dissipating ever so slightly. Him being downstairs gave you more time before you had to see him.

You didn’t want to see him.

____________________

“I want to see you, though.” 

You roll your eyes, thankful that Quinn called you instead of Facetimed you, knowing he would get upset over your reaction. You were having this conversation for the fifth time now, Quinn begging you to come see him when you told him it wasn’t possible. “I have four exams this week and I have a job interview. I need to be here.” 

“Where’s the job?”

You hesitate for a second, trying to figure out if you should lie or not. “New Jersey.” Quinn doesn’t say anything. “Q?”

“I thought you were applying for jobs here?”

“I am,” you say quickly, “But I need a job after graduation, regardless of where it is. I can’t move to Vancouver if I don’t have a job, too.” 

“I can take care of both of us.” 

You let out a loud sigh, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I don’t want you to have to ‘take care of me,’ Quinn, I can do it myself.” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to.”

“And what happens if we break up?” you snap. “What happens when you and I aren’t together anymore and I have nothing because you controlled everything? I’ll have no job, no experience, nothing to fall back on and I’m screwed.”

Quinn doesn’t say anything for too long, your heartbeat getting faster with every second he was silent. You didn’t know you were afraid of that. “You think we’re going to break up?” he finally asks, his voice barely audible. 

“Quinn,” you start.

“No, no, it’s fine. You’re right. You don’t want to bank on us being together forever.”

“Quinn,” you try again.

“Hey, I have to head to the arena, and you have to study. I’ll talk to you later.” 

The line goes silent before you can say anything else. You check the time, taking into account the time difference. You knew Quinn’s game-day schedule. He still had two more hours before he had to leave. 

____________________

You get downstairs, seeing your boyfriend leaning against his car. He was in a suit, one you hadn’t seen before. He bought a new one for tonight. It fit him well; you could see the curve of every part of his body, every crevice that you knew by heart, everything that was stashed in his pockets outlined. You could see the box in his pant pocket. 

He was looking down at his phone, a lock of his hair falling into his eye without even hearing you coming towards him. That sight of him used to make your heart skip a beat. 

He finally looks up, the grin on his face growing with every step you took towards him. He shoves his phone in his pocket, pulling you in for a kiss. His arms wrapped around you, his lips pressed to yours, you praying he doesn’t notice the slight sweat you felt forming over your entire body. 

He opens the car door for you, running around to get into the driver seat and take you into the city.

“You are gorgeous,” he breathes out, his hand resting on your thigh as he drives.

____________________

You stare at your phone, praying that someone would email you or call you. If you watched your phone enough, you could will them into getting back to you, right?

“You’re next,” your cousin’s hand finds your shoulder, making you jump out of your skin. “God, ok.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, putting your phone down and getting in the makeup chair. The person your cousin hired to do the bridal party makeup was talking to you about what you wanted, you barely paying attention while your mind wandered, trying not to be rude and check your notifications every time your phone screen lit up. 

“What’s with you?”

You look to your left, the makeup artist turning your head back toward them. “I’m supposed to be hearing back from that job,” you tell her.

“So why do you look like you want to throw up?”

You hesitate, a text from Quinn showing up on your screen to let you know that he was almost ready to head to the wedding venue. 

“Because it’s my dream job, but,” your voice trails off. She eyes you, the look on her face burning a hole in the side of your face. “It’s not in Vancouver.”

She nods. “So it’s not near Quinn.” 

“It’s in New Jersey.” 

“Are you going to take it if you get it?”

You exhale. The job was everything you wanted; in the field you studied in college, in a great place where you didn’t have to spend what felt like millions on rent, the people seemed great, the benefits were perfect.

It was just in the wrong country. 

“You know what? You’ve just graduated, we’re getting ready for my wedding, and your boyfriend is out there probably thinking about the day that this is the two of you, instead. Relax.” 

Before you could give an answer, it was time for you to get your hair done, your cousin being whisked away by the photographer to start getting some pictures taken. You didn’t even have an answer. 

Your phone buzzes, another text from Quinn, a new email in your inbox. 

You don’t check it, your thoughts lost in the whirlwind that became getting ready to join your cousin to walk down the aisle to who was supposed to be the love of her life. 

The bridal party ahead of you starts to enter, your cousin behind you pacing while the music continues to play. She calmed you down before when she was the one who was supposed to be anxious. What could you do now? 

You walk forward, the aisle seeming much longer than it did during the rehearsal dinner considering you were now in much higher heels, with makeup that you hoped wasn’t running down your face from the heat you felt. 

You catch Quinn sitting by himself, the smile on his face making your heart skip a beat. 

You felt yourself calm down, all the worries you had melting away as you headed toward the altar. 

You wanted to be walking toward him, to see him waiting for you, ready to tell everyone you cared about that you wanted to be together forever.

The entire wedding went by in a blur, your conscience focused entirely on you picturing yourself with Quinn standing at the altar.

When you finally get the chance to check your phone on the way to the reception, the email notification sits on your screen, unanswered. You open the app, your heart racing. 

‘Good morning, we are pleased to offer you the position…” 

____________________

The two of you fall into mundane conversation once you’re seated. He had asked for a table away from everyone, off to the side where the two of you had privacy, just as the two of you had liked it. You felt awkward being in the middle of any restaurant; he hated having people stare at him because they were sure they knew who he was and spent the entire time gaping at him once they realized who he was.

He asks about your day, about your job. 

You relay to him the events of the day, just as you did every single day the two of you had time to sit down and eat together. It was the same conversation every time, yet he seemed to love to hear about it. 

“I remember when I was excited about this job.”

“Do you still want to quit?” 

____________________

“How do we manage this?” Quinn’s voice comes through your phone, an exasperated plea. 

You hesitate, trying to figure out what to say. “I have no clue,” you admit. “Do we try long distance?”

Quinn sighs, the sound of his car starting up in the background. “We’ve been doing that for the last four years. Do we really want to keep doing it like this?”

Silence comes from you again, this conversation going exactly how you thought it would; neither of you sure what you wanted to do. 

Your dream job made you an offer that you couldn’t refuse. Your boyfriend was on the other side of the continent in another country. You couldn’t do both.

“It’s that or we aren’t together anymore.”

“Are you sure you want to take this job?” Quinn’s voice cuts you off before you can say more.

“Quinn.” 

“Is this job this important to you? Did you try to look for something near here?”

“You know that it is and you know that I did,” you reply, your tone getting defensive. “I’m supposed to be meeting my friends tonight and I still need to get ready,” you lie to him, giving yourself the best out you could. “I’ll talk to you later.” 

You pace around your apartment, pulling up the email chain with the offer letter attached. It was everything you could want. It just wasn’t close enough to the person you wanted. 

You end up falling asleep on your couch, waking up in pain from the angle you somehow thought was comfortable the night before, with someone pounding on the door to be let in. Your phone starts buzzing, your brain barely functioning to register anything other than the time, almost noon.

“I’m coming, calm down,” you rasp, hoping the banging would subside. “Quinn?”

“I can’t have this conversation with you over the phone,” he barges in, pushing past you. 

“How did you get here?” 

“I took the first flight out.” He sits down on the couch you were just asleep on, making no comment of your obviously disheveled state. “We can’t break up. I love you and I don’t want us to break up.” 

You sit down next to him. “I love you, too.”

“Do you want to break up?” he asks, panic in his voice. You study him for a second, knowing that the silence you were giving him wasn’t settling him in any way. He was clearly exhausted; his skin was more pale than normal, his hair poking in every direction possible. The bags under his eyes were darker than you had ever seen him, and you’ve seen him after he pulled an all nighter for a final, running only on energy drinks, french fries, and pure hope that he would pass the exam that morning. 

“I don’t want to,” you start, your voice trailing off. “But, Quinn, this job.”

“Marry me.”

You jolt back. “What?”

“Marry me. Don’t worry about the job. You don’t have to worry about anything. I want to be with you and I know you want to be with me.”

“Quinn,” you scoff, a laugh bubbling into your voice. “We can’t get married.”

____________________

“You could easily find a job somewhere else, though, right? If you wanted to?” he asks.

You nod. “But it was already overwhelming trying to figure everything out when I first started. Do I really want to do that again?”

____________________

“How are you settling in?” Quinn’s question made your heart ache, the first time you’re talking to him since you moved only able to be a few minutes over Facetime. “Has Jack helped you?”

You let out a laugh. “You know he’s only helped eat my food.” Quinn’s laugh matches yours, a tightness in your chest at the sound. “I miss you.”

Quinn lets out a sigh, closing his eyes. “I miss you, too.” Both of you stare at each other in silence for a moment, you looking away to pretend to continue unpacking. You were still trying to find everything in the boxes you hastily packed up, the start date your job provided you only giving you a week to pack and find a new place. Everything was in unlabelled boxes and just thrown together, meaning you were finding multiple pairs of underwear mixed into a box of dishes and books. “I wish we didn’t have to break up.”

You feel a sob creeping up your throat, the same sentiment you had being verbalized by the one person you wished didn’t feel the same. If this were a clean break, everything would be so much easier. If it were a clean break it would be easier to get over and move on. If it were a clean break, then you wouldn’t have what you were sure was a permanent pit in your stomach telling you that this was the wrong choice.

Before you can answer, someone knocks on your door. “Um, I’m gonna go. I think that’s Jack or Luke. They said they were going to come and help today.”

“Tell them to behave.”

You force a smirk through the tears that were brimming in your eyes. “We know they won’t.” You say your goodbyes, the tears finally falling down your cheeks when you open your door. “Oh, Nico,” you sniffle, Jack and Luke’s teammate standing in your doorway without the two boys who were supposed to be there. 

Nico’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?” he takes a small step towards you, gently resting his hands on your arms. His attempt at comfort sends a shiver through your body, the attempt to hide your physical recoiling at his touch unsuccessful. It wasn’t one of disgust, it was more out of shock. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” you tell him, tugging his sleeve to pull him into your apartment. “I’m just,” you hesitate. Telling an attractive guy that you were crying over your ex seemed like a bad idea. Especially when that ex is the brother of two of this guy's closest friends. “I’m overwhelmed from unpacking.” 

Nico nods, looking around at the mess of boxes that are cluttered in what is supposed to be your living room. “When was the last time you ate?”

You stop and think, checking your phone to see it was closer to dinner than any other normal meal time. “Yesterday?”

  “Come on.” Nico holds out his hand to you, ignoring the uncertain look on your face. “Jack and Luke asked me to come because they’re doing god knows what, and we both know dealing with them when you’re hungry is going to end up with one of them dangling from that window by their sock.”

You can’t help but laugh knowing that you and Quinn have done something like that to Luke when you were younger over the summer. There’s a reason there’s now a small balcony outside Quinn’s window. The thought of you and Quinn makes your heart hurt again, the threat of tears coming back.

“Hey,” Nico’s voice goes soft, pulling you into a hug. You melt into him, the comfort of his cologne making you exhale. “Whatever it is, you’ll be ok.” 

____________________

“Remember that one wedding we went to, one of your college friends?” he reaches across the table to take your hand, his voice shaking as he abruptly changes the subject. He waits for you to nod. “Do you think about what it would be for us to get married?”

As soon as you hear the words starting to form in his mouth, you grab your water with your free hand, gulping it down to give yourself time. “Um, yeah,” you lie.

____________________

“Jack, you fucking idiot,” you scold him, grabbing the napkins and trying to get as much red wine off your white shirt as you could. It’s your fault, really. You’ve known Jack long enough to know how dangerous of a color it is to wear around him. 

“I’ll grab you something to wear,” Nico mumbles, glaring at his teammate. He heads to his room, the base of his neck turning bright red as he walks away. 

Jack looks sorry, giving you a puppy-dog pout that you were all too used to from your childhood. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter. Nico comes back with a sweatshirt, a Devils logo and the number 13 on the breast for you to throw on while you’re here. He plants a kiss on the side of your head once you pull it on, sitting down next to you. 

The rest of the night passes by, Jack spilling two more drinks all over Nico’s table that made Nico send his teammate home.

You settle in his bed, letting out an exhale as you sink into the soft mattress. Nico comes into his room, your shirt in hand. He tried his best to get the stain out.

“I think it’s a lost cause,” he tells you, tossing the shirt into his hamper. “I’ll see if the cleaners can get it out when I bring my suits in next time.” 

“I know better than to wear white around a Hughes brother,” you joke, Nico climbing in next to you and pulling you close.

You hear him sigh, tucking his arm under his head as he lays down. “Do you still miss him?”

The silence between you two is palpable. You never talk about your past with Quinn, awkwardly dancing around the subject whenever he inevitably gets brought up. You weren’t completely over him, but how could you tell your boyfriend that? You lived here, Quinn was in Vancouver. “I miss my friendship with him.”

It wasn’t totally a lie. Even before you started dating Quinn, he was your best friend. Now, you could barely talk to each other. 

“I get that,” you hear him say, not without you noticing the strangled tone in his voice.

Your phone buzzes, Jack tagging you and Nico in a story from your dinner, captioning it ‘taken moments before disaster (myself) struck.’ You can’t help by laugh, showing Nico the post. He smiles, the two of you taking in the photo. The way Nico looks at you makes your heart flutter. He loves you. You know he does. And you do love him. 

You look at the time, the late hour making you groan. “Ugh, fuck.” 

“What?”

“I’m only going to get, like, three hours of sleep if I want to make it home in time to get ready for work.”

“Why don’t you move in here?” Your head whips to him, feeling a pain in your neck, trying to hide your wince so that Nico doesn’t think you hate his idea. “I mean, you spend more time sleeping here than you do at your actual place.”

“Are you serious?”

Nico smiles, pulling you in for a kiss. “Of course.”

You mirror his smile. “Yeah.”

You eventually fall asleep, an excited feeling about a new chapter in yours and Nico’s relationship keeping you awake. 

When your alarm finally goes off, you let out a groan, Nico stirring beside you as he wakes up with you, despite not needing to. You see a text on your phone, sent not long after you went to bed.

It was from Quinn.

‘Does he at least make you happy?’

____________________

Nico is clearly nervous, his free hand rubbing against his thigh. You can feel the sweat forming on his hand in yours. “We’ve been together for how many years now? Three?” You nod. “I love you.” 

____________________

Every time Vancouver came to play in New Jersey, Ellen and Jim insist on you joining them to watch the game. They think of you like a daughter, despite the hopes of you actually joining their family dwindling down to nothing with every year that passes by with you staying in New Jersey.

Of you staying with Nico rather than Quinn. 

It doesn’t get easier any time you see Quinn. According to a drunken Jack, Quinn still loves you. You know you love Nico, but can you also still have feelings for Quinn? 

The Hughes parents weren’t there yet, you sitting alone as the two teams come out onto the ice for warmups. You see Quinn, the sight of him making your heart skip a beat, even after all these years of falling in love with Nico. He looks like he’s zoning out while skating in a circle around nothing, his stick in both his hands parallel with the ice. You know him well enough to know that this is how way of focusing, reviewing everything he could remember about the game tapes he had spent the last few days studying, as if this weren’t the third time this season he was playing against his brothers.

Against your boyfriend. 

The three brothers meet at center ice, taking a picture as they did before every game, the tradition somehow never losing its magic and never getting skipped over no matter how many meetings the two teams had. You feel your anxiety go up when Nico skates over and joins them, the smile on Nico’s face not being matched in the slightest by Quinn. 

The last time you saw Quinn, it was like you were two strangers who were forced together by accident, rather than being two people who grew up with each other, who knew everything about each other. His sentences and comments to you were short, his eyes never meeting yours.The only thing he said that really mattered to you was him telling you he wasn’t sure he would ever stop loving you.

You didn’t remember how that even came up.You had been talking about the wedding you were in, one of your friends from college getting married a few months before yours and Quinn’s last meeting. Quinn was invited, but, according to Jack, he couldn’t get himself to go once he saw you were in the wedding party. 

Your phone buzzes, a text from your boss. You can’t help but let out a groan, knowing that nothing good could come of him texting you on a Friday night when he knew you were at the game.

You skim the message, hoping that it was something that you could ignore for a few hours until you and Nico got home that night. One word catches your eye, causing you to choke on the sharp breath you took in. 

‘Vancouver’ is right there, your boss telling you that there was an opening in your company’s office there, that you would be perfect for it, that you would get a higher salary, a relocation fee, the company would take care of everything you needed to have you move to Canada.

You would be near Quinn. 

You let your boss know that you would think about it, reminding him that you were out with your friends at the game, just as you told him that morning. He sends back a simple thumbs up, as if that was a good enough reaction to letting you know that your dream job just got better. 

The Hughes finally join you right as the anthems begin, pulling you in for hugs. The game begins, your attention anywhere by the actual game. You were facing the ice, but your mind was back to your phone. During the intermissions, you’re completely anti-social, looking at the application your boss sent you that you would need to fill out. He was right, you were perfect for the job.

The game ends, you heading down with the parents to see the guys, Quinn the first one out. He talks to his parents, you awkwardly standing off to the side. 

He finally acknowledges you when his brothers come out of their locker room.

“So, how are you?” he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground. 

“Good. You?”

“Good. How’s the job?”

“Good,” you let out. “There’s an opening in our Vancouver office,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

Quinn’s eyes light up, the smile on his face one that you hadn’t seen from him in a while. It made you smile. “Really? Are you going to take it?”

You sigh, the smile melting from your face. “I’m not sure yet. I would have to move. I would have to figure out Visa’s and everything. I would have to figure out things with,” your voice trails off, both of you knowing what you meant without you saying it. “Nico.”

Your boyfriend appears behind Quinn, a sudden panic coursing through you. You remember the idea of being away from Quinn tearing you apart inside, the thought making you sick. The idea of being away from Nico didn’t have that same effect. 

____________________

“Will you marry me?” He asks, the look on his face hopeful and nervous while he waits for your answer. 

You hesitate, knowing that he was panicking, hating that you made him feel that way. Your phone buzzes with a text from your boss before you can answer, your eyes flicking down to the screen. ‘Still interested in Vancouver?’ You hadn’t told Nico you applied for the job. You told yourself you didn’t want it that much but that it wouldn’t hurt to apply. Seeing Quinn keping coming up in your mind each time you lied to yourself, how you would be back in the same city as him. 

You still love Quinn.

“No.” 

[rubydubsnuby]

YOU VOTED AND WE LISTENED!!!!!

THIS CANNOT BE UNDONE

MR CHARLIE IS HERE TO STAAAYYYY 🤩🤩🤩

[hegory-grousing]

im not a writer so this doesn't have real dialogue. mad libs I guess. I imagine this happens often on their lunch dates hehe

[akirathedramaqueen]

The bias is not always conscious

And that's the case with Stolas. That's it, that's basically the post, so you can count it as your tl;dr, but let me elaborate. :)

(A little gratitude note! Sorry @tealvenetianmask, I failed being concise here, but I thank you for encouraging me to put it all together :3 I also thank you for our conversations about Stolas and about museums in particular which heavily contributed to it)

I think there's some misunderstanding when people get offended by the suggestion that Stolas acts classist/racist. It seems that people assume we’re implying he is malicious and intentional with it, but the actual problem is that he doesn't think.

S2EP2, Seeing Stars, 1:29

The problematic behavior we're discussing is reflexive and internalized. Stolas was raised in an environment where the lower demon class is looked down upon, and while he believes he expresses nothing but deep respect for Blitzø and treats him as an equal…

Goodnight, Blitzø. S1EP7, Ozzie's, 14:50

And while you can see from this bow that this intention is sincere, which is both wonderful and fascinating—he preserved this profound gesture ever since he was a kid, despite being actively discouraged from doing so!...

[Stolas]: I'm Stolas! It's nice... Ouch! [Paimon]: Don't bow to that one! He bows to us! Idiot! S2EP1, The Circus, 7:40

He was still raised in privilege and influenced by the narratives around him. For him, it's acceptable because that's what he was taught is fine. It's part of his everyday speech, and he never actually asks Blitzø, or anyone else, how they feel about the literally belittling nicknames (like literally—do you notice how often he uses the word "little" when referring to imps?).

I mean... there's a lot, okay? I'm just going to pull out some examples off the top of my head. All of them are from Season 1, and I'll explain why later.

I was hoping you brave little imps would accompany us! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 5:15

Ugh, that's better... Where's Blitzy? He's my knight in shining armor, not you, littler ones! S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 13:22

And it [grimoire] isn't supposed to be lent out to itty-bitty imps like yourself. S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 0:30

Greetings, tiny Wrath Ring imps! S1EP5, The Harvest Moon Festival, 8:22

[Stolas, in the background]: Who dares threaten my little impish plaything? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 18:20

How the fuck did you get caught by humans? Are you little creatures not being careful up here? S1EP6, Truth Seekers, 19:38

He also takes pride in being part of Ars Goetia. That pride seeps into his mind whether he wants it to or not. He lives in a huge palace, never worries about money, can arrange a seat in a club that’s always booked out, and gets admitted to a hospital immediately, while hellhounds wait five years for a Hellbies shot.

Being part of the Goetia family is rather valuable, you know. S1EP2, Loo Loo Land, 4:39

Most of these examples come from Season 1 because, after the disastrous Ozzie’s date, Stolas begins to unconsciously cut back on this language. He seems to sense that something is wrong, though he doesn’t fully understand why. However, he is acutely aware of the problems with the transaction and the unfair dynamics it creates, and he is serious about putting Blitzø on equal ground by providing him with the means to run his business independently of Stolas.

And still, he maintains full control over the conversation during the Full Moon meeting, immediately dismisses Blitzø after one mistake, and throws him out. He continues to impose his narrative on Blitzø and…

I don't look down on you! How many times do I— When have I ever?! S2EP9, Apology Tour, 2:45

When have you ever indeed, Stolas? You literally look down on Blitzø saying that. This moment illustrates the problem clearly. He isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t look down on Blitzø because he genuinely believes he doesn’t.

Despite all said, Stolas is making a tremendous effort and is progressing, and he is far ahead of Stella, who is openly classist/racist and very conscious of her biases. So I believe—no, I know—he will get there one day. But not today.

This is something I take quite seriously, and I think people need to understand how dangerous this subtlety can be, as it happens all the time in real life too.

How often do you ask yourself why medical research groups are predominantly represented by white, cis, upper-middle-class males, and how this affects the efficiency of treatments suggested in these studies for everyone else—women, people of color, non-binary folks, and those who struggle financially?

How often do you visit museums and see art created by wealthy aristocrats who defined what constitutes 'fine art,' while 'folk art'—often created by marginalized communities—is overlooked and lost to time?

I could elaborate further on how deep and cruel this bias is, but I’ll stop here. I just ask you to consider why you might get offended when someone points out Stolas's subtle bigotry and why you might downplay it compared to the loud, aggressive Blitzø, whose anger and avoidant issues are obvious.

Just sit with it.

[necrofagewriter]

As someone who believes that the presence of queer ships are a sign of a healthy fan space, I feel it is especially important to see in Invincible fan spaces, especially in relation to queer ships involving viltrumite characters.

Because can be used in such a great way to address and discuss the anti-queer aspect of the Viltrum empire's ideology (I'm looking at you WillMark shippers; CecilNolan shippers, y'all are great, but I haven't seen enough).

As the show and comics have made clear, Viltrumite ideology views sexual relationships as a means to an end, only existing to create offspring, with romantic relationships being not only nonexistent but also viewed as a weakness.

As a result, this makes all Viltrumites, whether Kirkman intended or not, raised to believe that intercourse, the one of the last types of intimacy allowed in their culture, should only exist between individuals of a different sex.

After all, it makes sense in a twisted way. A same-sex relationship, in most instances, is not going to bare any offspring, removing the one level of validity any type of intimacy has to the Viltrum empire. Why would they want that?

They wouldn't. And that's queer relationships with Viltrumite characters is so important here. They grab that idea of intimacy only existing for the use of breeding and turn it on its head. They say "creation is not the purpose of intimacy and it never was" and directly confront how this control over intimacy is just that, a way of control.

Yes, we do get a look at how normal, healthy straight relationships can help Viltrumites (I am not opening that can of worms here), but they all still hold onto the Viltrum idea of intimacy being an act of heterosexuality only.

That is why I think queer ships are so important here not only as a way to help point out how yet another internal bias of Kirkman's has embedded itself in his writing but also because they help us look and explore the social impacts this fictional ideology has in universes on members of that society.

P.S: And this is why I think there should be at least one gay Viltrumite- *I am shot by an Amazon executive*

[sataneyu]

And so I watch the new episodes, laugh at the jokes, wonder at Lin Ling's coolness, and then I remember that everything literally started with the suicide of probably the most unhappy person, and it makes me so anxious and sad...

I'm really terribly interested and at the same time scared to find out what happened to this guy that he literally decided to step over the edge. And no matter how much I like the show, I realize that it's not fun at all. And it has never been like this

[mmmelodramatic]

i don't normally share doodles from my sketchbook, but i've been drawing a lot of odydio recently and i feel like it'd be funny to share these

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Flip-Flopped AU

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

1k. Series Masterlist

My entry in the Flip-Flopped Summer Writing Challenge by @munson-blurbs and @corroded-hellfire in which a plot point happens differently in your story and alters the trajectory.

In this AU, Eddie and Teach got lost in the heat of the moment in Chapter 17 and both decided not to use a condom.

CW: pregnancy, big feelings, protective!eddie

If this is not your thing, feel free to scroll on past! This does not affect the main story whatsoever.

The days were getting longer. 

The changing of the clocks had sunlight stretching on past dinner time. Birds were making nests outside your bedroom window, singing as early as you woke. But they had been feeling longer even before now. Back when frost still clung to the windows of your classroom, you would find yourself slumped against your desk before lunch period—bleary-eyed with a tiredness that seeped into your bones, made you want to sleep forever. They were long because you were exhausted, and not just from work.

There were changes in your body. The early nausea had ebbed for you to discover your appetite again. You couldn’t wear underwire bras anymore, not that any of yours fit anyway. You could smell the ink from the Xerox machine over by the coffee table clear across the room; a superpower you never wished you had. When it finally stopped whirring, you got up from the table and sought to alleviate the pain in your lower back with a stretch. It did little good. With a tired sigh, you plodded over to the Xerox machine, grabbing the warm stack of copies and securing them with a binder clip before placing them atop three large textbooks. You hoisted the stack, wincing at the soreness in your breasts but thankful for the shield it provided. You’d noticed another change this morning that had you feeling anxious others would as well.

Like clockwork, Eddie was waiting just around the corner, leaning against the concrete wall pretending to read one of the novels you’d assigned last fall. He brightened as he saw you, stuffing the dog-eared book into his back pocket. “Hey,” he breathed, joining your stride.

You smiled, parroting the same in response, unable to stop the tingles at the sight of him from radiating down your chest to flutter low. That hadn’t changed at all.

“Let me grab that,” Eddie offered with a nod of his chin.

You clutched the stack like a safety blanket, readjusting your hands against the stiff covers. “It’s fine, I’ve got it.”

“Come on, you probably shouldn’t be carrying so much while—” Eddie glanced around the bustling hallway, lowering his voice, “in your current condition.”

You sighed, softened by the concern in his deep brown eyes, the way he hovered so attentively beside you. “Ok, fine.” Veering out of traffic, you halted by one of the bulletin boards and yielded the stack of books into his waiting arms.  

That was when he saw it—the swell under your floral cotton dress. 

It had appeared practically overnight. Or at least it seemed that way. You had been looking out for it for many weeks now, always checking in the mirror before you left, making sure your clothing covered anything suspicious. It was easy in the winter, but there hadn’t been much to hide then—aside from the truth to those closest around you. Now that the trees of late March were beginning to bud, your options were dwindling to dresses with empire waists and generous fabric, big t-shirts on casual Fridays. 

A lump caught in Eddie’s throat, eyes locked on the small bump. He almost dropped the books, hands burning with the urge to feel the evidence of his fatherhood. Your eyes met for a long, heavy second, welling with mutual recognition. Chatter echoed off the tile, lockers slammed, shoes squeaked and quickened with the approaching bell. Reluctantly, you broke his gaze to glance around, folding your arms protectively across your midsection before starting slowly down the hall again. 

It was a longer walk than usual, or maybe it just felt that way because of the weight of your predicament hanging between you, or maybe it was born out of the desire to be close as long as possible.

Suddenly, a freshman whizzed by, weaving in and out of traffic to bump past your left shoulder. You stumbled, clutching your belly reflexively as your feet righted themselves beneath you. 

Eddie felt a rage course through him like he’d never felt before. Icy like fear, but igniting to a blind fury that seared through his veins, made his vision narrow until he saw nothing but red. “HEY!” he barked. All of a sudden his shoes were pounding the tile as if moving on their own, books shifting to his left arm while his right reached for the handle on the freshman’s yellow backpack. He yanked the kid back, almost lifting him off the ground to face him. “How ‘bout you watch where you’re going, ‘kay?” he gritted.

Terror swept across the freshman’s pimpled face. “‘Kay,” he eked out. 

Nostrils flaring, Eddie held his gaze for a second to drive home his point before releasing his grip. The freshman clambered away, straightening his shirt and glancing over his shoulder as he slunk into one of the classrooms. Eddie stood there a moment, staring at the door he’d vanished into, steadying his breath before your voice broke the spell.

“Eddie,” you started wearily, unable to maintain your exasperation when you saw the worry so vividly in his eyes.

“You tripped.”

“I’m fine,” you soothed, resuming your place, close enough to brush the hair on his arm. Though you didn’t condone the outburst, you couldn’t deny it stirred a warm, buzzing feeling in you. 

You walked together carefully in silence as the chaos swirled around you. But the tension didn’t leave his shoulders, not even once he unloaded the pile from his arms with a thud onto your desk. 

The classroom was empty, but not for long. Beyond the open door was a commotion of footsteps, any one of them with the potential to breech the threshold. Eddie eyed your bump again, and the stiffness in his jaw softened slightly to longing. Stepping around the corner of the desk, he closed in until it was just about the only thing between you. 

“I’m coming over later,” he said just above a whisper, eyes flitting up to yours before resting on your belly again.

A smile cracked through the worry on your face for just a moment before a glance at the door made it return. You could tell from the heat in his eyes just how badly he wanted to touch you, just how close he was to letting the impulse take over.

He followed your glance toward the door, then back to the subtle swell, rising and falling with your bated breath. With a determined set of his jaw, and eyes that brimmed with unbridled wonder, Eddie raised his hand and placed it firmly on your belly. It was warm and soothing, thumb stroking gently over the smooth cotton.

And for a fleeting moment, on an exhale you both shared, all was right in the world.

______

A/N: If you loved this, please tell me! And lmk if you want to be added to the AU taglist (which will be separate from my main one) because I will be writing more of these! Just little vignettes.

I am taking requests for anything and everything in this AU, so if there is a moment or situation you want to want to see, send me an ask!

Also, there will be a celebration hosted by the lovely @teddiemunson86 and @ladylilylost on their discord server tomorrow Sunday, Sept. 1st at 2pm EDT where I will be talking about chapter 17 and what the future has in store for our forbidden lovebirds (and maybe the AU as well)! If you're interested in joining, the link to the server is here. Hope to see you there!

Tagging my main list just this once to gauge interest: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly

@kissmyacdc @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @keeponquinning

@blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @alizztor @godcreatoreli

@ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxxsblog @siriusmuggle

@sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420

@readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless

@eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo

@eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi

@liminalpebble @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins @mimsthebannished @tssf-imagines

@eddiethesexy

[simplysamiblog]

The weight of a perfect goodbye

Before I even begin sharing my thoughts, I need to make one very important thing clear: I am a firm believer in the theory that Jayce and Viktor survived the ending of Arcane. As far as I’m concerned, they were teleported through time and space and are now slowly, painstakingly rebuilding their lives. Together, of course.

I’ve read dozens of (amazing) fanfics where this is exactly how their story unfolds, and some are so well-written that I honestly consider them canon.

That said.

I’ve seen several discussions online about this very topic:

"The creators confirmed it: they’re dead."

"The creators don’t know anything, they’re alive."

"Accept it, they were disintegrated by the Rune."

And so on.

But here’s what I think (not that it matters to anyone or carries any weight at all):

We can’t completely dismiss or outright reject the idea that, yes, Jayce and Viktor are, unfortunately, dead. At some level, we need to accept it—to believe it.

But let me explain why.

Not out of respect for the creators, the canon, the fandom, or anything like that. But out of love for the story, for the essence of their narrative.

At the risk of sounding cliché, do you really think Arcane would have been just as special if Jayce and Viktor had survived? Can you picture the scene? The protagonists recover, the fog of war and chaos clears, and there they are—Jayce and Viktor—standing atop the Hexgates, smiling. Ah, what a happy ending. What a good ending.

Sure. Nice. Nothing more.

Or imagine if we had gotten something like: "And they remained like brothers forever." Ugh.

It’s cruel, it’s unfair, it’s heartbreaking—

But it’s perfect.

The chain of events (cough) that led to that moment, the sacrifice that sealed their fate—

The relationship between Jayce and Viktor would never have been as impactful otherwise. Personally, I don’t think I fully grasped the depth of their bond until their foreheads rested against each other. In that moment of resignation, of acceptance.

Their story, their magic, was beautiful precisely because it ended right then, in that instant.

Jayce asked Viktor, "Why did you ever give me this?"

He could have let him die in the storm. Or, if he wanted to be more merciful, he could have simply saved him without giving him the Rune—

The world would have been safe. The world would have been saved.

But…

The world wasn’t as important as the moments they shared. Their friendship, their collaboration, their bond.

Viktor couldn’t deny another Viktor those moments. That brief but immense joy. Those years in which he had truly lived.

They were stronger than everything—stronger than everyone—

Even stronger than death.

And that’s why, in a way, their death is precisely what makes them so wonderful.

Call it cliché or a bit of a stretch, but the first comparison that comes to mind is Romeo and Juliet. Would it really be the most famous love story if they hadn’t met their tragic end?

"Happily ever after."

Or—

"Never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Sure, they might have survived, somewhere. And it’s absolutely valid to believe that.

But if not for that ending, for that terrible, heartbreaking moment, how much would we have missed out on? How many incredible fanfictions wouldn’t exist? How many fanarts, how many works of art would we have been unknowingly deprived of?

We’ll never know, and I don’t want to know.

Because what we have is amazing.

So yes, I accept the idea that they’re dead—because it makes the fantasy that they’re alive and in love so much sweeter.

But most of all, it makes their relationship a game of fate, something they built around each other. A perfect circle, an inseparable chain binding them as one.

Pulling them together, pushing them apart—only to bring them back to each other again.

Over and over.

Forever.

[theadhddimsenion]

Look as much as I love m&m and fizzmodeous I don't think that they should be exempt from having struggles in their relationships that last more than one episode.

I personally don't like that m&m and fizzmodeous are put on a pedestal compared to stolitz. I think that them having multiple episode struggles would be good for the show for to have the extra drama will for sure draw in more views and fans but more importantly it will show that even "perfect" relationships require work from both sides.

I think millies pregnancy and what it means for her relationship and ozzies inability or less likely unwillingness to help fizzs closest friend could both nessacry struggles for the perfect couples to go through.

Like this could help fizz and Ozzie reconcile with the nature of their privileged postions and acknowledging the oppressive system they find themselves at the top of and ultimately coming out as a healthier couple for it.

Or maybe the potential baby could help m&m actually look at the flaws in their relationship like moxxies emotional needyness (which has been getting better as his confidence has grown) and millie learning she shouldn't have to sacrifice her own mental well-being for others all the time and trying to do so will only result in her blowing up at the people she's trying to help.

All I'm saying is stolitz shouldn't be the only ship in this show that has to go through multiple episode struggles.

Hell I've mentioned it before but I think it would be really cool if stolitz actually helped m&m with their first spat.

Blitz talks with millie and stolas with moxxie as they explain if they can have a semi healthy relationship even after all that's happened then a couple as lovely dovey as m&m will be just fine. Blitz comforts millie reassuring her that no matter what happens both he and moxxie will always welcome her and respect her descion regarding the child while stolas shares his experience with wives with moxxie showing that he should count himself lucky millie Is nothing like stella and loves him dearly and as such he shouldn't take her for granted and make her his emotional rock 24/7.

[bubblegumflavor]

You look like a movie

You sound like a song

My God this reminds me, of when we were young..

Let me photograph you in this light

In case it is the last time

That we might be exactly like we were

Before we realized

We were scared of getting old

It made us restless

It was just like a movie

It was just like a song..

(Adele ~ 'When we were young')

[fervidgrey]

my favorite flavor on you✨️

When did the chapstick you wear become a ritual for him? Why did it feel so good?

✿ Featuring: hajime umemiya, hayato suo, jo togame

✿ Warnings: the only warning is that I am terrible at writing fluff but I am trying to stretch my wings. sfw.

¨`*•✿ Togame ✿•*`¨

Togame's chin tips, stopping just before the kiss, where he lingers. His glasses rest at the tip of his nose, while his green eyes peer down at your lips. A frown takes over his features. Your change in chapstick did not go unnoticed. 

“Where is the one I like?” His question startles you.

He wiped his long thumb across your bottom lip smearing your chapstick away. You shifted your foot, finding your words.

"I was running late, this was the only one in my bag." It was true, you had rushed to meet him after work. His favorite lemon scent balm sat on your desk forgotten.

"Don't forget again." He smiled coly before pulling you close and bringing his thumb to your lips once again. He focuses the last bit of chapstick away before taking a long drink of his ramune.

His lips pulled you into a demanding, his fingers lacing in your hair. You melted into the kiss, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

The world around you faded away, leaving only the sensation of his lips on yours and the warmth of his body pressed against you.

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and your lips wet. A small smirk sat at the corner of his mouth. He adjusted his sun glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose.

"Much better," he murmured, chuckling to himself. Your whole mouth now tasted like ramune, the flavor strikingly similar to his favorite chapstick. Something told you this man might be more in love with ramune than you.

¨`*•✿ Ume ✿•*`¨

The look on his face was sweet as normal but there was something about the way Ume’s eyes traveled to your lips after a kiss that made your heart drop. You had forgotten to put on his favorite chapstick, sweet mint. It smelled akin to one of the herbs in his garden.

He would never say anything negative about something as silly as chapstick- no he was far to sweet but it was easy enough to read the disappointment in his eyes. You silently cursed yourself for such a small oversight. Ume's gaze lingered for a moment longer before he smiled softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"Shall we take a walk to the garden?" he suggested, his voice warm and inviting as always. You nodded, grateful for the distraction from your perceived misstep.

As you strolled hand in hand among the fragrant herbs and blooming tomoatoe flowers, you couldn't shake the nagging feeling of having let him down. The mint plants caught your eye, their leaves swaying gently in the breeze. Ume noticed your gaze and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

"This is good timing actually," he smiles, leading you closer to the patch. A small tin was sitting in the shade with a silly doodle on the lid.

“Here!” His grin was ear to ear waiting for you to take it. Gently you palmed the tin noticing it was twist. With ease you twisted the lid and instantly smelled mint. Upon closer inspection you noticed it was some type of balm.

“I made it for you, homemade lip balm!” He looked so excited as he pointed to his plants “They are from my garden!”

Your heart swelled as you realized the depth of Ume's thoughtfulness. The worry you had felt earlier melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. You couldn't help but smile as you gazed at the homemade lip balm, a testament to Ume's care and creativity.

"Ume, this is... incredible," you breathed, your fingers tracing the doodle on the tin. "You made this just for me?"

He nodded, his eyes filled with delight at your reaction. "I've been working on the recipe for weeks. I wanted it to be perfect for you."

Touched by his gesture, you immediately opened the tin and applied the balm to your lips. The cool, and the tingley sensation was refreshing. With a quick lick you could detect subtle undertones of other herbs from his garden, maybe cammomile. It was better than any store-bought chapstick.

“I love it Ume, thank you!”

Ume's big blue eyes lit up with joy, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. As he pulled away, he licked his own lips, savoring the taste.

"Mmm, even better than I imagined." he murmured, his gaze warm and affectionate.

¨`*•✿ Sou ✿•*`¨

The dry winter air pulled at your skin with a fury. You had dressed warm but the air still found tender flesh to dehydrate. Small red dots forming on your cheeks as proof. Pursing your lips became very painful.

You fumbled in your pockets, searching for the familiar tube, but came up empty. A pang of disappointment hit you as you realized you must have left it on your nightstand this morning. With a huff your resigned yourself to cracking lips for the rest of the day. Of course Sou appeared beside you, seemingly out of nowhere with the very thing you needed.

"Here," he said softly, pressing the chapstick into your gloved hand. "I always keep one- just in case."

Gratitude washed over you as you applied the soothing balm. The familiar scent of mango filled your nostrils, a small comfort against the biting wind. Sou's thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze you, especially in these harsh winter months when he always seemed to anticipate your needs.

"Thank you," you murmured, your newly moisturized lips curling into a smile. Sou nodded pulling your scarf up higher, covering your nose and mouth, how you got such a sweet boyfriend was beyond you. He used the height difference to kiss the top of your forhead, his lips oddly warm dispite the weather. A blush rushed to the top of your ears as he lingered, enjoying a moment with you in the falling snow.

"Come on," Sou said, gently taking your hand. "Let's get you inside before you freeze." You nodded, feeling the chill seeping in despite your best efforts. Sou gestured towards a nearby café, its windows glowing invitingly in the fading afternoon light.

"How about some hot chocolate? My treat." Sou offered, knowing it was one for your greatest weakness. You could never turn down chocolate, and thought of your hands around a steaming mug was too tempting to resist.

[la-gotica-fantasma]

A Torn Trebuchet

relationships - Newt x Male!Reader

characters - Minho, Frypan (Siggy), Nick, Gally, Alby, Clint, Newt, Male Reader

setting - The Glade

word count - 2.6k

contains - Gally and Nick appreciation / no funny business / body kissing (not freaky though I swear)(ACTUALLY. ykw. i DONT have to explain myself to you.) / tiny lil sex joke / love confession (takes a hot minute to get there though...) / "But we're boys!" "We're all boys..." "Oh yeah." / Internal crisis / No beta we die like Winston

request - “Newt is love, Newt is life” all the voices chant in unison, so, heh, guess what I’m requesting 😏 YOU GUESSED IT, ANOTHER NEWT X MALE READER (I am an insatiable little fuck-) but to make up for the angst in the last one hear me out on a book version where reader is one of the original Gladers along with Newt and was a natural born leader but didn’t want to lead, he was the one acting calm and calming down others when they first got there and just overall kind and stuff like that and Newt was just immediately drawn in. Reader would’ve originally been offered the leader position but turned it down because he simply didn’t want to (but he’s the keeper of the medjacks and if you’ve ever read warrior cats and how the med cat is an advisor of sorts that’s what reader is) Newt would make excuses to constantly visit the MedHut whether it’s getting hurt “accidentally” (whenever he gets hurt he specifically asks for reader to tend to him) or just sneaking off. Reader is also the one who cared for him after his accident and helps him with physical therapy and walking afterward. (Has massaged his leg before leading to a very flustered Newt.) Just fluffy stuff, reader is very sweet to him, they’re both pretty attached to the other, maybe even comforting a certain blonde by playing with his hair👀 suggestions, suggestions - 🪶

summary - Basically a compilation the beloved male reader before Thomas came along (This is part one... there might be more.)

authors notes - Hey guy, welcome back to the middle of the ocean. Uh oh, I don't know how to swim. - Please don't ask me how many times the letter N was used.

A thick metal grate as cold as ice was what he wrapped his hands around underneath him. His stomach felt like it was hooked to the ground. He groaned, holding his hands over his ears as he plummeted upward into an fate unbeknownst to him. Hunching over slightly, his arm ran across something soft. Something that emitted warmth. The drowse that had swallowed him moments prior had fully slipped from his mind as he saw the vague outline of a man. The outline’s head hung forward uncomfortably, visibly from unconsciousness.

Eating his brain like flocks of vultures to rotting carrion was the realization he had no idea of his own name. The breathing of the boy beside him was erratic and scared, like he either knew how he was to wake up, or he was having nightmares of an even worse place.

Ignoring the darkness that blurred the dimly blue lit death trap, he scanned the box-like device. Looking across from him was a dark-skinned boy, his head rested on the shoulder of an Asian boy.

The box stopped abruptly, a clanking sound echoing through the small chamber that smelled of must and animals.

The Asian boys eyes started to creep open, peering tiredly before changing to a look of pure fear. “What the-”

They all stood, looking around the elevator and seeing the plethora of boxes around the five other boys.

“We have land, captain.” the darkskinned boy announced as he peeked over the wall of the box.

The landscape was green and vast, something that upon looking at it; made the other boys shut their mouths. “Woah,” a boy behind him muttered. “Where-...?”

“Beats me.”

“Come on, let’s do a role call.” [Name] announced after everyone stood on the grass, looking around the open landscape, shaking in fear. “I’m [Name],” he said, trying his best to ignore the abnormal feeling of saying it. It felt weirdly fuzzy and almost cruel to some part of his mind. Though he couldn't think of any reason why.

“Alby,”

“Gally,”

“Minho.” a boy said, attempting at confidence but failing miserably with his frightened eyes.

“Nick.”

“Newt,”

[Name] sat as the silence of the concrete prison spoke louder than any words could. These boys, no older than fourteen, were scared out of their heads. “Hey, boys,” he said, inching closer to them in hopes that closure was following close behind. “We don’t have to figure out what this is, we just have to figure out how to deal with it.”

The boys nodded slowly in understanding.

"What if we don't figure it out?" Alby asked. He asked like he was asking for the class rather than himself.

"Well then, shi-fuck-"

"Shifuck?"

"I thought he said shuck."

"Why would he say that? That makes no sense, 'shuck'-face." Minho shot back, rolling his eyes.

Nick's head snapped up at the sound of the wind blowing through trees, "Hey! That looks like a house!" he shouted at them with a childlike joy, a moment of forgetful peace.

The boys chased after Nick, all but one. "You're a good leader," Newt smiled, his thumb in his pant loops.

"I'm not a leader, Newt." [Name] struck back before jogging after the boys to the wooden home.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two boys stared up at the stars, their necks bent in a way that will surely begin to ache later. “Do you think the stars have names?” Newt whispered, his hand leaving the wooden ground of the watchtower to rub the back of his neck.

[Name] stilled in thought, “Probably,” he sighed, “But the people who named them aren’t here.”

Newt’s hand left his neck as he pointed up at the sky, “So we can name them?”

[Name] breathed slowly, taking in the beauty above him and the beauty beside him. “We could make our own constellations, if you'd like."

"Make them?" Newt turned his head to [Name], brows furrowed in confusion.

"I can make anything but a living," [Name] joked with a laugh, but it elicited no laugh from Newt.

"The constellations are ours," Newt redirected the conversation, looking again at the blinking stars.

"If you want them to be,"

"I'd want nothing more."

[Name] began to stand, reaching out his hand for Newt to take. Newt grabbed onto it like a lifeline, like if he let go; he'd slip and fall through the cracks in between the wood. "Careful," [Name] warned after Newt slightly wobbled.

"I'm fine," Newt said, thoroughly unamused. [Name] kept a light grip on Newt's elbow, just in case Newt needed something to fall into.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The sun shined through the window in front of [Name], the Med-Hut was deathly silent, just before [Name] heard the door creak open. "Newt?" he said, turning to the door. "What's wrong this time?"

"Does something have to be wrong?" Newt feigned surprise, his hand flying to his chest as he gasped.

"No, it doesn't. And you know that. Come, sit." [Name] said, gesturing him to sit down on the cot.

Newt turned on the cot before [Name] sat down beside him, lifting his half-healed leg into [Name]'s lap. [Name] trailed his hand down Newt's leg gently, massaging at the muscles that seemed to tighten each time Newt looked at them with his pained eyes. "Can I ask you something?" Newt asked shyly, looking away from [Name].

"Of course," [Name] smiled, raising his grip from Newt's leg. "Go on."

"Can you just hold me?" he sputtered out, turning red at his own words. "Just- Like nothing matters. Please?"

"Of- Of course, Newt." he nodded, pulling Newt into a warm embrace. [Name]'s hand sat at the nape of Newt's neck, rocking back and forth. Newt rested his head on [Name]'s shoulder, holding his breath as if it'd stop time from moving.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"He looks a little green," Gally pointed out as everyone stood around the Box, looking down at the sickly boy. "A little greenly,"

"A little greenie." Nick chuckled.

[Name] raised his eyebrow in suspicion, "Is he gonna vomit?"

"I'm not cleaning it." Nick said immediately, scooting away from the Box slowly, his hands raised in defiance.

"Well, I wasn't gonna make you," [Name] said, adding a twist to the end to insinuate he will now.

"Definitely not, captain." Alby said acerbically, leaning his head toward the boy who had now definitely thrown up in the Box.

[Name] drag his palm across his face with a groan, "So we are sending that back down, right?"

"For sure, captain." Newt said, nudging his elbow into [Name]'s arm, a smirk on his face.

"Can you guys stop calling me captain?" [Name] groaned again, before jumping down into the Box to help the newfound 'greenie'.

"Sure thing, cap'." Minho chuckled, giving him a thumbs up and a big smile from above.

[Name] looked down at the boy, his afro uncut and covering half of his eyes. "Hey greenie," he greeted, immediately cringing at the use of the nickname Nick gave the boy.

"'Greenie'?" the boy asked, glancing up from his bent position.

"You are looking a little greenly," Newt mumbled from land. "Sorry." he said, waving to the boy.

Laughing a scoff, [Name] looked back to the boy. "What's your name?"

"Siggy." he slightly whispered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"'Siggy'?" Alby said in an almost judgemental tone.

"Well. That ain't that great." [Name] somewhat agreed with Alby. Leaning into Siggy, he whispered, "His name is Alby, can you believe it?" he joked.

"Can you just tell me where the hell I am?" Siggy asked, fed up and staring at the clouds.

"Yeah... We don't know that part." Minho alerted, his face scrunched up and slightly apologetic.

Without looking away from [Name], Alby raised his hand and smacked Minho on the back of the head. Nick and Newt immediately broke from their obvious disappointment to laugh.

"Now come on, Siggy." [Name] said as he stood from his crouching position, reaching his hand out for Siggy to grab. "We got to get you a job here now,"

"Where is 'here'? I ask again," he said with a nervous smile. "You know what, forget that, just get me out of this cheese grater."

"Damn Siggy," Minho said with a mouthfull of stew. "You're pretty good with a frying pan."

"I didn't even use a frying pan?" Siggy responded dryly from the other side of the table, taking his own bite of stew before scooping up some of the broth and catapulting it at Minho. "But you know what," Siggy said, "Call me Frypan now."

"Why the shuck would we do that?" Gally said, looking up from his eventful game of swirling his spoon in the empty bowl.

"Because Siggy is such a bad name," Nick half-joked, all but Siggy at the table laughed, Siggy just nodded.

"I'm serious, I'd rather be called Frypan than somethin' that sounds like a new fish discovered in the bottom of the ocean."

"What kinda fish are you lookin' at?" Nick responded, peeling his leg over the bench to stand.

"None, if you couldn't tell." Siggy joked, pointing to the closed doors that trapped them.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"What are you wearing?" Newt snorted, "Get dressed."

"I am dressed?"

"Oh." his face flattened, "Then dress better?"

"Fine," [Name] groaned, rolling over the bed that sat in the middle of the room to reach into his dresser, fishing out a tank-top and shorts. "This good?" he asked, holding up the items.

"Sure," Newt nodded, "Hope you're ready for a big day." he said, trying to start pulling up his pants.

"Hey, hey," [Name] said, walking over to him, softly nudging him to make him fall onto the bed.

Newt landed onto the bed gently, his legs dangling from the side. The sheets around him swarmed like waves around a rock. "I don't need help," he complained, scooting his partially swollen leg away from [Name].

"I'm not saying you need anything, I'm just trying to love on you." [Name] smiled, picking up Newt's shorts and slowly putting each leg into the pant leg, pulling them up to his waist, where Newt buttoned them up himself.

"I guess I do need your love," Newt sarcastically sighed, but his sarcasm didn't meet his eyes.

[Name] stopped abruptly, standing straight. "Do you really mean that?" he asked, sitting beside Newt on the bed.

Newt gulped harshly, looking at [Name] unconvincingly. "Do you want me to?" His accent seemed thicker, for a reason [Name] couldn't comprehend.

Taking in the silence like like it was being forced into their lungs, [Name] gently wrapped his hand around Newt's wrist, bringing it to his lips and kissing it. "I would."

Newt's face was as red as saffron, his fingers limp as he was struck repeatedly by confusion. "I think," -he swallowed harshly- "I think I need your love." he admitted, looking frantically in between [Name] and the wrist he just lovingly kissed. "But what if they never understand us?"

Newts eyes started to well up with tears, his redness now a show of his sadness and fear. [Name] took his hand to wipe his tears, rubbing his thumb along Newt's cheek. "I hope they don't." [Name] whispered, leaning in close to Newt's face—their noses touching. "Can I kiss you?"

"Any time,"

Their lips joined, Newt's arms wrapping around [Name]'s back.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"So, what's your name?" [Name] asked the boy, he stood uncomfortably—like he was feigning confidence. He did so, but poorly. His shoulders sagged low, his eyes unconfident.

"Why?" the boy responded, looking up over the corners of the Box, immediately shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

Alby jumped down, moving in front of [Name]. "I'm Alby. Come on, let's get you situated." he greeted, his hand holding the boys shoulder.

"Yeah," he mumbled off, "I'm Clint."

"I've found one of those before," Minho smirked, elbowing Nick with a wide grin on his face.

"God, ew, Minho. And no, you literally haven't." Nick replied, his face twisted up in disgust, shoving Minho away from him.

Minho's mouth twisted up, "Aye, we don't know that, shuckface."

"We can make an educated guess," Gally trailed off, eyeing Minho up and down judgementally before turning and leaving toward the homestead.

"I wish we had cement, so I could make that guy eat it." Minho scoffed, rolling his eyes and turning to leave as well.

"I heard that!" Gally shouted, Minho blew him a kiss in response.

[Name] turned to Minho, "You can't make people eat cement,"

"I mean, technically, you can." Newt shrugged at Minho. [Name] shot Newt a dirty look; a quiet way of telling him to zip his lips. "No, [Name]'s right. Can't do that one," he said, nodding and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth at the end.

"You're so love-whipped, it's sick." Minho groaned, rolling his eyes again.

"Yeah, totally bitchin'." Nick mocked, playfully making a hang-loose gesture, sticking his tongue out of the side of his mouth.

"Ha-Ha. Very funny," Newt commented sarcastically, turning away from the group.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[Name] watched from the window as he saw Frypan jog over to the bird feeder that hung on a short, sad little tree. He seemed hopeful that he'd find some actual birds. "What kind of bird has showed up to the bird feeder today?" he asked with a smile, peering around the tree.

"Gally-bird." Gally laughed as he jumped out from behind the tree, a wide smile on his face.

[Name] turned to Newt, who gazed at [Name] from their bed. "Funny boys," [Name] commented, Newt nodding in response.

Walking to the bed, [Name] reached his hands into Newt's messy hair, twisting the golden locks around his fingers. "I was born to be with you," [Name] whispered, pulling back from Newt to look into his eyes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[Name]'s tears flowed down his face like they had no other meaning but to taunt him with something seemingly never ending. He squeezed his eyes shut, still painfully aware of how shaky his hands were. He wept unforgivingly.

Warm hands wrapped calmly around his, holding them tightly and reassuringly. "It will be okay," Newt's voice said.

"I'm not the man I try so hard to be," [Name] sobbed, his chin falling against his chest and his mouth opening as sobs hit him as hard as possible.

"You don't need to try to be any man," Newt assured calmly, holding his hand in [Name]'s hair, twirling it just as [Name] had done for him. "Not any man but a good one." Silence washed over like waves over shells, falling into the small crevices kindly.

"What if the best I can ever be is just pretty?" he cried, his head tucking into Newt's warm neck.

"Then I must be hallucinating, because I see so much more than just a pretty face." Newt kissed along his face, "You could lead us into a war, and we'd follow."

[Name] let out an involuntary laugh, his eyes opening to see Newt sitting directly in front of him. "I wouldn't lead you guys to war," he laughed, tears slowing subtly.

"A good man." Newt said strongly, confident he had proved his point.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.◯ .* :☆ﾟ. ───