#everyone say thank u to the entirety of the ever after giving us the most gorgeous backgrounds and shit fo the bees kissing like

[tequiilasunriise]

Broke: Wingman Weiss and/or Wingman Sun

Woke: Wingman THE ENTIRE EVER AFTER????

Did your OTP have an entire Alice in Wonderland alternate dimension shipping them so hard it manifested in literal magic platforms and the sky changing into their signature colors and gardens full of white lilies- which represent rebirth- blooming as they kissed? No? Thought so.

[mossible]

ALRIGHT i’d like to preface that this is most likely gonna be really rambly (mostly due to excitement), but i promise that some questions will be sprinkled here and there as well, just bear with me LMAO ANYWAYS

with that out the way, i just finished reading all the chapters you’ve released of Cracked Snowglobes so far, and WOW you’ve done such an amazing job with it!! seriously, the way you’ve characterized everyone, especially octavio, just makes my heart sing. i feel like nintendo’s slept on developing octavio within splatoon’s story modes when there’s SO much available that they could work with, so reading your interpretation is such a fresh breath of air. what inspired you to write it from his perspective?

also, i love how splatoon’s silliness and flair is still present without interrupting the genuine and heartfelt scenes; the story naturally ebbs and flows (sorry not sorry :)) between the two wonderfully, it’s really a treat to read. speaking of the pacing, you’ve done the cuttletavio content SO WELL. i really appreciate the seeds you’ve planted throughout the story, because it creates a solid foundation for their relationship to grow from and, well, make their development believable! after all, the two of them have been through a LOT, so it makes sense that’d it take a while to work through it all.

before i finish, here’s some misc. questions for you! what have you learned about yourself while writing this fic? did of any scenes leave you stumped on how you were gonna approach it? what’s your greatest strength and weakness as a writer? and lastly, what’s your favorite scene you’ve written so far? feel free to answer as many or as few of those questions as you’d like!

thank you so much for the time and effort you’ve put into the fic so far!! it’s evident you’ve done your research, and i can’t wait to read what comes next! wherever the story goes, i’ll be there for the ride!! :))

OMG HI!! sorry this took like a day to get to but holy shit this is such a thorough and well thought out ask im like. in awe thank u so much for sending all of this in

if i thanked you for every incredibly kind thing u said throughout this entire ask i would fr be typing for like. hours so i will consolidate that all here; THANK U SO MUCH FOR UR KIND WORDS OMG !! i am so glad that youre enjoying the fic so far, and that you think so highly of it ?? i am absolutely blown away every time yall give me such encouraging feedback like this thank u so much!

ok on to the questions though!

what inspired you to write it from [octavio's] perspective? ok well funnily enough, you sort of answered your own question, (at least, the second half of what my reasoning is lol,) in the paragraph before you even asked it nintendo has ABSOLUTELY slept on octavio's more indepth nuances, i totally agree! i think to fully contextualize why i chose to write his perspective specifically, i do need to let myself be a little smug and say that i just so happened to revisit and reread Dissonant Melody in its entirety this summer, long before the b-sides were ever being posted. it. oh my god it fuckign awoke something in my brain and gave me cuttletavio brainrot BAD up until the new game was released and even then that absolutely did NOT help considering how our beloved dj got such an awesome spot in the limelight during the final boss. to summarize, though, i decided to stick with his pov partly because i felt i was not alone in my own personal sentiments over him and how silly and interesting of a guy he is, that others would also probably enjoy to see his pov, (as well as the octarian pov as a whole,) quite a lot. the other part is just that i had baaad brainrot and also that he is so silly and i wanted to write him interacting w cap'n more. bc, again, nintendo!!! youre sleeping on these two!!!! quit making us writers and artists do all the work for you tell us what they were like before the war!!!

ok i said i wouldnt repeat myself over and over again thanking you but!!! ahhh im so glad that the humorous beats i wrote landed. ive genuinely always been someone who cannot handle something serious without it being just a little silly and goofy on the side, just to make it feel. believable i guess? that the world isn't as dark as it sometimes seems? that and just. most people who know who i am as a person know where a lot of my influences lie and that a lot of it is in comedic source material, so there's that as well.

what have you learned about yourself while writing this fic? did of any scenes leave you stumped on how you were gonna approach it? i am going to lump these two questions together bc i think my answer will go hand in hand. i have been very much humbled to the fact that i am naught but a humble young adult who has yet to truly drop the young part and quote, unquote, "grow up" as they say. …by which i mean; my scope of the world is very very limited, and for as much research as i am able to do about a fictional, sci-fi-esque, futuristic society dominated by evolved mollusks, there is just as much real life experience that i feel would change the entire trajectory of this fic, were i to have it under my belt. perhaps some future plot points i have prewritten would theoretically play out much differently? perhaps some characters would be characterized differently, leading to said different plot points? perhaps, we will never know… perhaps, though, there are some experiences that i will never feasibly be able to live through to then incorporate into my writing. like living for over a century to reunite with my scorned, ex-whatever the hell these two are! specifically addressing the second question with that in mind, i can say, without spoilers, that there is indeed a scene that i'm working on right now funnily enough that is. stumping me quite a bit. i'll let your mind and the context i provided before to fill in the blanks on what could possibly be in store that i'm trying to figure out how to approach next.

what’s your greatest strength and weakness as a writer? and lastly, what’s your favorite scene you’ve written so far? i'll group these last two questions together as well because i have both a short and a long answer to at least part both of them; DIALOGUE!!!! i adore writing dialogue so much i love it when characters interact and say things and when i am able to study and practice their vocal quirks and nuances in such a way that it paints not just a picture of two plot devices talking to move the story along, but two very much matching or opposing sides to a discussion that has been thoroughly baked into the narrative. that and i like making nintendo characters say things that the NA localizers would never have the balls to make them say. not just in a swearing way but in an actually natural and not trying-and-failing-to-be-hip-with-the-kids type of way. (sorry NA team i still love yalls work but sometimes it doesnt seem like yall even read the JP text at all </3) to answer the second half of the question though, i do think that my weakness is feeling a bit too comfortable writing dialogue and the like. as someone who got got their start in writing from roleplaying online, whether as canon characters or ocs, i can say for certain that it is physically impossible for someone to perfectly mimic how a character acts in canon, down to a T. you can absolutely get close, don't get me wrong! but everyone's always going to view their fave or their muse in a different light than how someone else views them. humans are perfectly imperfect, and the things that we create and put out into the world are equally such. there are most definitely a lot of times where i will let my own preferences and biases for how a scene should play out cloud my judgement, and, as a result, i write myself into a future plot hole when it comes to consistent characterization. still love dialogue though <3 speaking of things i love! that last question… hmm… i think i had the most fun writing callie's final scene in chapter 3, but genuinely everything that involved the octarians in chapter 2 is a close close close second! esp stella's little scene. i talked about this a little bit in the comments on ao3, but, without spoilers i can absolutely promise yall that she is coming back. she has evolved from just a side character to my dear sweet little scrumply munchkin she is my scrimblo. sorry shes just really fun to think about and im excited to write her more </3

[1kook]

ZOOM CALL

⇢ meeting one

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

⇢ series masterlist

summary: In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window. genre: fluff, slice of life, smut (tags tba) warnings: jk is a ditzy lil nerdy sweetheart, college crushes, social distancing -_-, use of the zoom app, 1kook Builds a Healthy Relationship (Version 2.0) ratings: M (18+) wc: 3.2k

notes: well. here we are. as always i have to thank common sense (coincidentally named rumu @kigurumu​ ) for reading this over and pointing out little details <3 after much deliberation, i have decided to post our beloved zoom jk (see origin story here) in the form of short ‘drabbles’ depicting diff zoom calls with this being The Beginning™️ so please... bare with me </3 ty to all the nice ppl who have been excited for this, luv u very much 🥺

There are times in human history where words captivate their audience; times when single words or phrases wrap around the listener, melt into their bones and radiate warmth from within. But rarely does one word manage such an impact, rarely is it as revered and as cherished as the word cancelled is to most college students. 

Class is cancelled, group meetings are cancelled, the stupidly big semester final project was cancelled. You could cancel nearly anything, and in most cases, it would be beautiful. Cancelled meant more time to sleep in the morning, an afternoon free of pesky project partners, a pleasant reprieve from having to socialize with anyone. It was a glorious word with heavenly connotations that brought tears of joy to your eyes whenever you saw it appear in an email preview.

Except this one.

Spring Semester 2021: On-Campus Classes CANCELLED — Social Distance Measures as per State Regula…

Your last semester as a student in university… online? You couldn’t believe it. All these years of studying rigorously, cramming for exams, attaining a near perfect GPA— just to sit in your bedroom and stare at your computer screen for the last 15 weeks of classes? Had your friends not been there to mope with you, you’re certain a part of you would have gone on a rampage and cursed every bacteria known to mankind for doing this to you.

It was your last year, you whined in private (never in public; your friends had always considered you the mature one, the studious friend who kept everyone in order), yet here you were, setting up your desk for your last ever first day of classes with quite possibly the biggest pout on your face.

Zoom, your school had raved in an email a few weeks into the break, the desktop application that will keep us united in these trying times! As if, you huffed, giving the stupid application permission to connect to your computer’s camera and audio systems. What even was proper Zoom etiquette? Did you have to enter the meeting and greet every student cheerfully? You had always said hi to your classmates before, but something about saying it over a computer mic felt awkward.

The feeling doubled when you finally entered the meeting, only to be met with a sea of black screens save for your professor, who seemed to be clicking around his computer in a rather confused fashion. This was going to suck, you thought bitterly.

You had entered the room ten minutes earlier because, well, you always showed up to class a few minutes earlier than the scheduled meeting time. But was there any point to doing that here? Usually, the time before class was spent making small talk with said classmates, discussing the readings or the assignments, talking mindlessly about whatever came to mind. But something in your gut said it would be weird to do that now.

So you sit in silence for the next ten minutes, nervously tapping your pen against your desk as you wait for the professor to launch into whatever introductory monologue he had planned. You toy with your phone, scrolling through your twitter feed only to see a brigade of tweets from students all over the nation suffering the same fate as you. It was a trending topic.

Two minutes before the class starts, you hear the tell-tale ping of someone entering the meeting. You wave it off just like you have your other 41 classmates thus far, but then there’s the clearing of a throat, and a sweet, “good morning” filtering through your speakers. Lifting your head from the hunched over position you had assumed while glancing at your phone, you’re startled by the sudden handsome face that appears before you.

In a sea of black screens and faceless names, there’s one smiley boy that beams back at you through the dimly lit screen of your laptop, a tiny Jeon Jungkook (he/him) tacked to the corner of his window.

He’s nothing short of a dreamboat, soft and doughy cheeks that catch the hue of the screen light, highlighting his cheekbones in a faint blue color. Imploring doe eyes blinking widely at the screen as he clicks around, narrating his confusion in a low mumble (mic still on, how cute). Dark hair— was it brown? black? the pixelated screen made it hard to tell —messily pushed away from his face.

And his voice, oh his voice. It matches his gentle appearance perfectly. A soft snort. “Am I the only one here?” he says, thin lips pulled to the side in a bashful grin.

The professor laughs with him. “No, but you are the only one with your camera on,” he responds.

You’re not sure if it’s the professor’s teasing jab at literally everyone else or the need to support the cutie who smiles softly at screen, but suddenly, a handful of windows come to life. Your classmates fill up the screen, dressed in an array of styles with bedrooms (and, on the rare occasion, dorm rooms) to match. You nibble at your bottom lip, finger hovering over the button that will expose your appearance to the rest of your classmates

Eventually, the wordless peer pressure, the need to be a good student, and the supportive face of Jeon Jungkook (he/him) have you inhaling sharply before dutifully clicking the camera on. Your face appears on screen, nearly lost in the now overwhelming sea of faces. You’re one of the last ones to turn your camera on, both pages of your zoom meeting participant windows filled with the contrasting images of your classmates joining from their bedrooms. The professor claps in delight, and finally dives into the mandatory first day of classes spiel.

Syllabuses, group work, asynchronous lectures. You’ve heard these words all before, have practically memorized this class’s syllabus like the back of your hand. The pros of being an overachiever. The cons are, however, that you think every question your classmates ask is stupid. Read the syllabus, you want to scream. But it’s the first day of class. You don’t even know who your assigned study group partners (as mentioned in the syllabus) are and you certainly don’t want them to dislike you so soon. They can do that after the third meeting, but not today.

You’re not entirely surprised when your attention drifts away from the professor and the endless sea of stupid questions he’s left to answer. Even when you realize you’ve stopped paying attention, you don’t bother forcing yourself to tune back in. No, instead your focus drifts across the windows of faces.

Some of your classmates are as bored as you, glaring at the screen with disinterest, or glancing off to the side probably at their phones. So you start looking at their rooms, analyzing their decorations and posters as if you’re a professional critic on some house design show.

Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in a rather plain dorm room. Plain light gray walls— or maybe it’s white —free of decoration. He’s sitting at the provided desk, just like you. The only reason you focus on that is because there’s a multitude of your classmates lazily sprawled across their beds, slumped over a couch. Hardly anyone is sitting at attention like you. Well, except for Jeon Jungkook (he/him). He’s practically exposing the entirety of his living accommodation with the way his camera is set up.

Above eye level, reaching just below his chest, with the room all laid out before you. A neat twin bed, sheets meticulously made. It almost looks like the decorative set at a furniture store with the way the comforter and variety of pillows are placed. He doesn’t seem to be in the crappy dorms you remember, which leaves you wondering where exactly he’s been assigned. You know certain sports clubs get fancier dormitories. Anyway, there’s a door off the side of the bed, a black guitar standing in the corner just behind it. You wonder what’s behind the camera, if maybe his desk is as organized as the rest of his room. Maybe his closet is his weakness, you muse, imagining poor Jeon Jungkook (he/him) with a tornado of a closet. But the thought doesn’t make that much sense, so you discard it quickly.

Anyway, his dorm room. It’s neat and orderly, makes you tilt your head curiously as he swivels from side to side before you. As for himself, he’s dressed in a plain white sweater, hoodie strings perfectly even. His hair has long since fallen over his forehead, but he’s pushed it over this time in a fluffy side part. He was adorably soft.

He’s paying attention to the professor like he genuinely treasures every word that comes off his tongue, nodding along understandingly. He’s even got a pencil in hand, leaning forward every few seconds to scribble something down hurriedly. Not like this is all on the syllabus or anything, you think.

But as soon as the thought crosses your mind, it’s dispelled just as fast. He’s only trying to be a good student, you scold yourself, feeling oddly mean for wanting to make fun of this sweet boy. Especially when he raises his hand a second later and asks the first good question of the day. Something about the grading scale for group projects and how much is determined by the group members themselves. You’re not too sure, the words get a little fuzzy when he starts speaking and his pink lips pull down into an endearing pout.

A couple minutes later and your professor finally wraps up the questions, telling everyone to email him if any other questions arise throughout the semester. Just as you’re sighing in relief, he utters those dreaded words: “Ice-breakers!” he exclaims, and the whole class grimaces, much to his amusement. He says something about feeling the excitement through the screen, but then changes gears. “Since it’s a little hard to talk to your neighbor, I’m going to test out the Breakout Rooms and see how that works, okay guys?”

You frown. Breakout Rooms? What on earth was that? Like most of your classmates, this is pretty much your first rodeo with the Zoom application. He was sending you all into small groups, where? The answer presents itself a few seconds later, a message box appearing on your screen.

The host is inviting you to join a Breakout Room: Group 4

Your professor is still chattering in the background when you nervously accept the invitation, his voice suddenly cut off as your computer jumps to a new loading screen. It takes a while before you’re suddenly dumped into a new room. And then you’re staring at your own face, blown up on your own screen in a rather uncomfortable way. Jeez, did you really look like this?

As soon as you get to picking at your appearance, your mirrored reflection jumps to the side, once, then twice more to fit the three new guests in your room. Silence fills your bedroom as you and your classmates all stare at each other nervously for a couple seconds, unsure of what to say. This was, after all, your first meeting.

Just as you’ve gathered all your courage to click your microphone on, the screen jumps around once more and suddenly Jeon Jungkook (he/him) is in your Breakout Room. Immediately, his surprised face melts into the most reassuring grin you’ve ever seen, and he’s practically jumping forward to turn his mic on.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says, smooth and low. It’s like the awkward tension melts away under the pressure of his pretty smile, your classmates responding back with polite hellos and good mornings to him. You barely get yours in before Jeon Jungkook (he/him) starts talking again. “So… how are you guys?”

His words, sweet and caring as they are, send the five of you into a rather mindless conversation. Talking about nothing really, just whatever comes to mind about the class, about the semester, about the remote learning. Then Jungkook— “just Jungkook is fine!” he tells the other four of you with that same too pure look on his face after someone refers to him by his whole name —starts talking about some movie he had seen on Netflix the other day, something his friend recommended to him. Truthfully, you have zero interest in the type of plot he is describing, and you can tell some of the other people in your group don’t either. But he’s absorbed in his storytelling, features lit up as he details every last plot point of the film like his life depends on it. There’s a wordless agreement to let him ramble on.

By the time Jungkook has finished his novella recapture of whatever movie he was talking about, a green message bubble appears at the top of your screen. It’s a message from your professor, who is telling you the small group meeting will end in a few more minutes.

“Aw, that sucks,” Jungkook laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. And then, “oh! We haven’t answered our icebreaker question yet!”

Ah, yes. The reason for this small group was to get to know each other, not for Jungkook to recount an entire two hour movie for you all. “Oh, right,” you agree, probably the first words you’ve said in the past five minutes. You navigate to the chat box, where your professor had hastily dumped the question before sending you all off. “What’s one thing you miss most about being on campus?” you read aloud, glancing back at the screen.

Your group mates are all in various states of blissful comfort, the gaps of their nervousness smoothed over by Jungkook’s bubbly personality, and the hesitation they’d shown at the beginning is practically gone. Someone steps forward and says something about the campus dining hall. Jungkook laughs, loud and airy, claps his hands all cute too. Someone else says the library because it was a good place to study. There’s a lull and you jump in quickly. “I think I’ll miss the couches by the gym in the student center the most,” you confess, though you doubt anyone knows which ones you mean. They were a set of brightly colored couches tucked into a cranny behind the Starbucks just outside the campus gym, avidly avoided by the gym rats who were determined to ignore the sugary drinks and snacks.

Apparently, the hiding spot isn’t as secretive as you thought. “Oh, the ones by the Starbucks?” Jungkook exclaims, excitedly looking at his screen. You have this fluttery feeling that he’s looking at you for the first time. You nod, and he quite positively beams. “I love those!”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time there,” you say, though it’s a little stilted because you’re not exactly sure how you’re supposed to react to Jungkook’s enthusiasm. Though his outgoing personality cloaks you in comfort, his pretty smile has your heartbeat acting a little funny.

Jungkook’s got these huge eyes, blinking owlishly at you. “Really? So do I!” And then you both seem to have the same realization. His head tilts to the side cutely, an amused smile on his face, “I’ve never seen you there.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” you shoot back, a little snarkier than necessary, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. His smile turns goofy.

“Woah,” he says in a rather dreamy tone, “isn’t that so cool? We spent so much time in the same place, but never crossed paths before,” he babbles. He’s stopped looking at his computer, leaning back in a sort of dazed manner with this sparkly look to his eyes, much to everyone’s amusement. Except yours, because frankly, it sounds a little bit like he’s describing— “fate!” he says suddenly, like it’s truly an aha! moment. He pauses, taps his finger against his chin. “Or anti-fate? I’m not sure. But it’s like— we could’ve met so many times before and we didn’t.” Doe eyes return to the screen, flickering around until they presumably land on you again. “What do you think, __?”

And he’s just so cute, makes the rigid shield around your chest soften for the slightest moment as you nod meekly. “Uhh, yeah. Fate,” you agree, and then get to hear him laugh and giggle for about three seconds before you’re suddenly thrown back into the larger Zoom meeting.

Weirdly flustered, you hurriedly click your microphone back off, and nearly contemplate the camera too. But then the professor is asking you all to share what you talked about and you’re resigning yourself to a few more minutes of screen time while the class wraps up. By the looks of it, not everyone had as an enjoyable time as you did. Part of you is thankful you didn’t get stuck in an awkward small group. The other part recognizes wholeheartedly that it’s all thanks to one smiley boy at the bottom of your screen.

“And group 4?” the professor asks, and you blink yourself back into attention. Before you can unmute yourself and answer for your group, Jungkook is beating you to it.

“We talked about a lot of things,” Jungkook answers cheerfully. From your view, you get a front row seat to the sheer power of Jungkook’s magnetic personality, watching as all your listless classmates suddenly snap back from their daydreams to zero in on whatever Jungkook is saying. He fills in the professor about what you talked about, from the movies to the couches, and you feel weirdly mushy when his eyes flicker across the screen before settling with a soft smile.

He can’t possibly be looking at me, you tell yourself. Your hand jerks forward to turn the camera off, but in your haste, end up knocking down the water bottle on your desk. You scramble to straighten it, thanking the universe for the fact you actually remembered to screw on the cap. You glance back at the screen, and nearly die when you catch sight of a giggly Jungkook, smile hidden behind an adorable sweater paw as he laughs at something on screen. Oh no, was he looking at me? you panic.

“Alright, everyone,” your professor says in that “I’m about to wrap this class up” voice. Too close to the screen, voice a little too loud. “Good meeting today, I’ll see you all again on Wednesday. Stay safe.”

“Bye!” Jungkook sings sweetly, and everyone else follows as they all bid adieu to the professor. Still a little frazzled from the possibility that Jungkook may have watched you flail around like a total loser, you take a second longer to turn your mic on. Your classmates quickly leave the meeting, leaving only a few stragglers until the very end.

Surprisingly, Jungkook is here too, brown eyes focused on the screen. You unmute yourself. “Um,” you stammer, eyes unwillingly flickering over to Jungkook who smiles at the sound of your voice. “Goodbye. Thank you,” you rush out, and then quickly leave the meeting as well.

With the meeting over, you’re left staring at the home page of the Zoom app, heart beating a little too fast to be normal. Your face feels warm, and your fingers tremble from some unfamiliar, giddy feeling in your chest. You exhale slowly, hand coming up to rub at your chin as if that will somehow explain the weird excitement from your Zoom meeting. Maybe it was just adrenaline, or nervousness, you try to convince yourself. After all, the first day of classes is always nerve-wracking.

Except when you navigate to your class page and begin to mindlessly scroll through the class roster, there’s a weird stutter to your heartbeat when you catch sight of that Jeon Jungkook (he/him) that appears halfway down the list.

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (ii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, stealing cultural landmarks, frustrated bucky

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: made a header 4 this fic but i couldn’t take it seriously enough <3 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! it’s always fun to hear from y’all. 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

It’s roughly a week before he sees you next.

Right on time too, according to the briefings he had received. Once a week you’d come up with your next batshit crazy idea and someone would be sent to make sure you didn’t execute it.

It was more of a babysitting gig than anything. Most people would do one, maybe two assignments before asking to not be sent again. 

He was not most people. He volunteers to go again. His afternoon is relatively free and he’s bored. 

Also, and more importantly, he needs to get out of the house before Sam finds out what he did.

“You’ll find her near the Statue of Liberty.”

“How do we know?”

“Oh, she tells us.”

“...she tells us where to find her?”

“Most times, yes. She says it’s time efficient.”

Absurd. He thinks you’re absurd.

Bucky finds you in line to board the ferry. You’re dressed to the nines like an obnoxious tourist, even though you were a local, topped with binoculars and a bucket hat. 

On an unrelated note, he thinks that maybe the mission today is to kill you for daring to wear sandals with socks like a suburban dad. A shudder runs through his body when he sees it.  

He’s wearing all black and a baseball cap. Somehow he’s standing out more than you are.

He boards the ferry behind you, keeping a close eye on all your movements. You take your place near the railing, a seat near the front of the boat. 

His phone rings. He answers it, expecting Sam to screech at him for painting Redwing neon pink again. He should have known it was coming after he shoved Bucky off the quinjet before he had time to strap his parachute on properly. 

“I thought I told you to bring a cape.” 

He quickly looks up at you but you’re not facing him. You have your phone held up to your ear, however.

“How did you get this number?” he asks icily.

“I knew you’d show up again.” Your head tilts to look at the statue in the distance. “Also, thanks for the door money, but I’m not sure I appreciate how you think the least creepy way to give someone money is to drop it off anonymously at their doorstep.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He swiftly gets up, stalking over to where you’re sitting. He was advised not to do anything aggressive. Advised was a flexible word. 

“Because I wasn’t going to answer it.” You look up at his figure looming over you. “Oh, hey.”

The phone is still pressed to the side of your face even though he’s right beside you. He cuts the call, shoving it back into his pocket.

“Allow me to introduce my pl-”

“What are you doing here?” He cuts to the chase. 

You send him a glare. “I was going to say it before you told me to. And sit down before everyone thinks you’re going to kill me.”

“Why are you going there?” He doesn’t have time for this, he thinks. He has important things to do. Like watching the reruns of Masterchef Junior. 

He sits in the seat beside you.

“Look at us.” You grin at him. “Me with the evilest outfit I could think of, you with your... Addams Family cosplay. We’re like, two peas in a po-”

“Start explaining,” he interjects. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to shrink the Statue of Liberty and use it as a keychain.”

“What?” It’s probably the most benign plan he’s ever heard in his life.

“I’m kidding.” Oh, good. “I’m not using it as a keychain, I’m taking it to class.” Nevermind. 

“What?” He finds himself repeating his previous question.

“I’m shrinking all the statues I can find. I want to use it in my classroom to teach the kids.”

“You’re... a teacher?” He blinks.

“You got a problem with that?” You look offended, to say the least. 

“No.” It’s not what he would peg your occupation as. He didn’t think you had one at all. “How are you planning on shrinking it?”

You rummage through the ugliest fanny pack he has ever had the misfortune of seeing. You pull out a small ring box, complete with a bow tied neatly on top. 

“I was saving this for our third anniversary, but-” you offer him a nervous laugh.

His stony expression doesn’t change, not even a blink. 

“Fine, Jesus, you’re no fun,” you huff, dropping the emotional act when he doesn’t look amused. 

You flip open the lid. Inside there are a few small disks. It looks familiar, he realises.

“Your friend Ant-Boy didn’t file a patent, so I just took his whole shtick.” He wants to defend Scott’s honour; it’s Ant-Man not boy. He doesn’t. He’s too transfixed on what you have in your hand.

“Pym particles.”

“The diet version.” You pick up one of them carefully. “A ripoff, but effective. Just gotta attach it to the thing I want to shrink and give it a few minutes.”

“You’re going to steal the Statue of Liberty,” he says, frankly a little taken aback that you were serious.

“Would you relax? I’ll put it back.”

“That’s not the point,” he damn near exclaims. “You can’t take away the Statue of Liberty just because you feel like it.”

“I literally can.” You point to the chips in your hand. “That’s the point of this, keep up.”

He feels exasperated. He didn’t sign up for this when he became an Avenger.

“Give me the box.” He makes a grab for it but you yank it away from his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I don’t have time for this.” His reruns would begin in an hour.

“That’s my problem, because...” you trail off. 

He rolls his eyes, makes a grab at the box again. His tactic is different this time. He stealthily pins one of your arms down so that you’re basically incapacitated.

“Hey! Stop that.” You fumble against his reach, shoving him with your elbow.

“Just give me the thing and we can all go home for the day,” he huffs, unfazed by your squirming.

“No! Over my dead bod-” 

He doesn’t immediately notice what goes wrong in the scuffle. 

Until you look at the ground near your feet. A disk lay there, undisturbed.

“Is that-” All of a sudden, either he’s getting taller or the ceiling of the boat is getting lower.

“Oops,” you say, not remorseful in the slightest. 

“Are we going to-”

“I’d give it five minutes max.” 

Great. He was stuck on a boat that was beginning to shrink. The other passengers were either oblivious or ignorant to seats that were starting to become too small for them, but Bucky’s heightened senses and extreme reflexes made it hard to skip.

He nudges the piece of tech with his foot. Maybe he can kick it off the boat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn solemnly. He wants to disagree but doesn’t know enough about the device to dispute you. 

“Fix this,” he hisses, panic slightly rising. His fingers find their way to his phone to send out an emergency text requesting backup and mass evacuation. 

“I think it’s a rather lovely day for a swim, don’t you?” You stare dreamily at the waves that were inching closer up the boat. 

Or you were inching closer to the water. Technicalities were frivolous. 

“There are other people on this boat.”

“River’s big enough for all of us, I reckon.”

“Fix it.” 

“Or what?” There’s a wicked gleam in your eye. “We both know I have the upper hand here.”

“Or I call the entirety of the Avengers here and haul your ass to prison.”

“Will they bring snacks?”

You’re insufferable. You know it. But you also are the fastest way to get out of this situation and right now, he didn’t want to be responsible for a shipwreck simulation. 

“Fine. Tell me what you want.”

“I like soy chips.”

“Soy chi-” He nearly throws his hands up in frustration. “You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I want one historical artifact so I can impress the kids. They think I’m the cool teacher and I want to keep that reputation alive.”

“What makes you think I can arrange for that?”

“You’ve been alive since goddamn dinosaurs roamed this earth, I’m sure you have some connections.” You pause to assess his face. “You know, you don’t look a day over 29. Dermatologists must hate yo-”

“I’ll get you an artifact, now fix the fuckin’ boat.”

“You promise?” You grin brightly. 

He stares at you. You are unyielding. 

The boat’s uncomfortably small and people are beginning to take notice. Worried murmurs fill the air behind him.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You shrug simply.

You kneel over, picking up the chip from the ground. You do nothing else for two minutes, instead turning away from him to look at the Statue of Liberty that was coming closer.

It takes him a while to realise that half his body isn’t hanging off his chair anymore. The ceiling is moving further and further away from the top of his head. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He wants to strangle you. 

Why did he listen to you when all of this would have been over the minute he kicked it off the ship. 

“You can drop it off at my lair on Monday and pick it up on Friday.” You gather your belongings, leaving him steaming behind you. “Nice talkin’ to ya, Sergeant.” 

You step over him, flashing him a quick smile before walking off the boat with the rest of the tourists as if nothing had just taken place. When he looks down, the stupid ring box is on his lap.

He sits there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the container.

The ferry conductor asks if he’s going to get off the boat. 

He simply shakes his head.

Next part

[mooniefics]

AFTER CONTEMPLATING FOR SEVERAL MINUTES:

reiner braun 🤪 + “please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

this is literally the cutest moonie, i'm proud of you for hitting 250!! ilysm 💖✨💕

oh my gosh i’m so sorry this took me so long,, thank u so much for the request n the congratulations mar !! very happy that my first work for this event can be for my love, our one n only reiner ♡(｡- ω -)

in all your years of knowing reiner, you couldn’t say that you’d ever once heard him sounding so frantic.

“please?? just pretend we’re dating. it’s only for today, i promise!”

those were the exact words he’d used over the phone, imploring for you to come to the official marley high ten-year reunion and pose as his girlfriend. despite how you assured him that you were certain no one would judge him for being single, he seemed adamant that it would be the exact opposite. and after a few apologies for your laughter at his predicament and a brief negotiation over his payment of getting you your favorite drink from the cafe near your workplace for the next few weeks, it was a done deal.

though you admittedly felt a twinge of anxiety upon entering the venue of chattering adults, dressed in the best semi-formal outfit you had in your closet, you could see that he was the more obviously nervous one between the two of you.

“just relax, rei.” you murmured, slipping your hand in his and giggling at the way his arm tensed, “these are your high school friends! i’m sure they’ll be surprised enough that you managed to find a nice girl like me all by yourself—“ he huffed disapprovingly, earning another small laugh, “—and only ask about your work or something.”

you barely finished your brief attempt at a pep talk when a loud voice came from somewhere by the food table. “is that you, braun?!”

reiner’s jaw shifted, a sign you’d come to learn meant him holding back a wince, turning to see a man with slicked back hair and a broad grin on his face approaching. based on his heavy-lidded gaze, paired with the red solo cup tipping dangerously horizontal in his grasp, you assumed he was quite tipsy already.

“considering how late you are, i wasn’t sure you’d even show,” he chuckled, still having to peer up at reiner despite still being taller than you, “but the more i thought about it, the more i remembered you never were the punctual type anyways.”

“great to see you too, porco..” reiner replied half-heartedly, palm already getting clammy in your grasp.

you glanced momentarily between them, deciding to come to your friend’s rescue by clearing your throat, drawing the teasing attention away from him. “actually, he was late because of me.” you flashed a smile, leaning into reiner’s side. “just wanted to look my best since i knew i was gonna be meeting his old friends.”

“holy shit..” porco muttered after a moment of silence, hazel eyes blowing wide as he stared at you like you’d disappear if he blinked even once, only breaking his gaze to turn over his shoulder and call out, “piecky, c’mere! i think reiner’s actually got a fuckin’ girlfriend!!”

you barely stifled a laugh at reiner’s low sigh of discomfort, pointedly ignoring how the people around glanced at porco’s shout. “did you seriously used to hang around with that guy?”

“no..” he grumbled back, “he hung around the people i hung around with and always gave me shit for no reason.”

“wow, rei, feeling a little feisty tonight, are we?”

he scoffed as you reached up to poke at his cheek, able to see the pink flush that had settled over his sharp features despite the dim lighting, dodging your inquiry while he looked ahead. “he’s coming back.”

putting on the smile you’d practiced so many times right back on, you caught sight of a cheerful dark-haired woman sidling over to your small group. “reiner?! you seriously got even taller? who’s this?”

you both exchanged names, offering a hand for her to shake which she eagerly took, turning to reiner for affirmation of your identity, to which he said, “yeah, she's my.. girlfriend...”

“how long have the two of you been together?”

“a couple months—”

“—almost a year.”

you quickly laughed off the sudden nerves of giving conflicting answers, turning back to reiner’s friends and recovering with, “we’re not super big on keeping track of dates. you know how time flies when you love someone.” you turned up to reiner, lips perking into a doting smile, “right?”

his cheeks flushed an even darker red, a sheepish smile brightening his expression. “right.”

“looks like you’re the only single one, pock.” pieck teased, laughing when the man rolled his eyes and huffed.

“you’re still with zeke?” reiner asked, prompting her to extend her left hand, waggling her fingers to show off the large diamond ring on her finger.

“yep, engaged for two years now!”

“apparently still too good to come to anything she invites him to.” porco grumbled in response.

“i already told you he’s on a business trip,” she frowned, taking his cup from his hand and taking a generous sip from it, “i’m sure he would’ve come if he hadn’t had somewhere else to be.”

“whatever you say..” he sighed, letting her finish his drink despite his apparent annoyance.

thankfully, your small slip up had been ignored, allowing both you and reiner to relax when the two finally turned their attention back to you. the night progressed much less turbulently than you’d previously anticipated, reiner allowing you to handle any questions directed at your relationship, not saying anything when you frequently slipped in little white lies to make everything seem more convincing. it didn’t stray terribly far from the truth, you were entirely honest about the way you’d met and the things that had made you “fall in love with him”. 

you took a strange amount of joy in posing as his significant other, just as he gave equally genuine reactions when you wrapped his arm around your shoulder or ate something from his plate of food, flustered and smiling all throughout. for a few brief moments, you almost forgot that he was meant to be pretending too. he’d seemed more than happy to see that you were getting along well with all his old friends.

you learned more about reiner in the hour that you’d been milling around the room with him than you probably ever had in the confines of the job environment that you’d met him in—intrigued to hear that he’d been the captain of the football team, feuded with the neighboring high-school’s while being head over heels for the captain of their cheer team, held the title of champion arm-wrestler for all four years he attended marley—little details that you made you would’ve never known had you never agreed to come. the unintentionally intimidating, humble, easy-to-fluster human resources manager that you’d befriended apparently used to be a total jock, always getting himself into trouble. 

and, based on how many times you’d been congratulated on managing to stick by his side for longer than a few months, you could only assume that you hadn’t even scratched the surface of discovering the entirety of reiner’s character.

eventually, your small group of four that’d you started out the night with had reconvened, tipsy from constantly sipping on spiked punch, an excited exclamation from pieck made all of you turn. “look! the photo booth finally opened up!!”

she was already rushing away for the corner of the venue before anyone could say a word, everyone following suit with a laugh as she stuffed a five dollar bill into the pay slot.

“uhh, pieck, i think this thing was only meant for two people.. max.” porco said after drawing open the curtain, earning a frown from her.

“but i want us all to take a picture together!” she slid into the booth despite the observation, turning to you, “c’mon, i’m sure we could all squeeze in if you sat on reiner’s lap.”

you felt your face flush, knowing there was no way to work around her request without raising some kind of suspicion and ruining the act you’d both somehow maintained for the entire night. “sounds like a plan..!”

you could feel how tense reiner was behind you as you got settled on his thighs, hesitating to rest his hands on either side of you while pieck and porco struggled to work the screen before them. you were starting to regret not asking if this was okay with him before agreeing, but you were sure he would’ve found some way out of the situation if he was truly uncomfortable. he only seemed to be preoccupied with the thought of making you uncomfortable, something which made a flicker of affection warm your chest.

“alright! we’ve got four pictures,” pieck announced, “starting... now! and make the first a normal one!”

the first three pictures were the standard photo booth antics—one with all of you smiling normally, one with all of you making the most ridiculous face you could think of in five seconds, and one of all of you arguing over what the third photo should’ve been.

“do something cute for the last one to make up for the messed up one!” pieck demanded through her laughter, pointing urgently at the countdown on the screen, “hurry up an’ kiss or something!!”

you turned back to look at reiner, wide golden eyes gazing down at you, obviously unprepared for the steadily escalating circumstance that was only being intensified by the chanting of “kiss, kiss, kiss!” coming from the woman who’d paid for the photos in the first place. and although you knew you had no obligation to do what she asked just because she had been so kind to you despite only meeting you tonight, or because the timer was winding down towards zero all too quickly, you still found yourself reaching out a hand to settle just under his jaw, heart racing impossibly fast when you realized he was already leaning down to meet you halfway.

his lips were still sweet with whatever juice had been mixed with alcohol, skin warm and blushing from your proximity, the hand that had been resting in your lap wandering to lace your fingers with his. the exchange didn't last nearly long enough, the click of the camera drawing you back to the cramped reality, pieck's cheers through giggles and porco's disgusted scoff for you two to get a room.

"i better be invited to your wedding!" pieck joked, reaching across you to draw open the curtains in a silent sign for you to pry yourself away from reiner.

"likewise." you replied with a smile, almost giddy with excitement as you clambered out of the photo booth.

though reiner's expression just barely passed as casual, his cheeks were burning red, even the tips of his ears flushed as the four of you waiting for the machine to dispense your photos. the function was winding down fast, and as soon as your drawn-out goodbyes were finally finished, you and reiner left, hand-in-hand, much to talk over but neither of you willing to speak until you'd reached the privacy of his car.

you turned to him, smiling in the dim glow on the lights of his dash, laughing softly at his sheepish expression, "i know you said we'd only pretend for a day but.. you think i could request a little extension?"

[hetacon]

Prom Queen: Chapter 4

First || Previous || Next

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Word Count: 1,800

Pairings: Endgame Prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, more could be included at a later point

Warning: Swearing, small food mention, let me know if there’s anything I missed!

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Summary: “Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

(Make sure to read all the way to the end if you want my thoughts so far! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this story, my art, or writing! Enjoy the chapter!)

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Virgil started to spend more time with the popular kids after they got back to school, something he never thought would be happening. They were gossipy and didn’t really appeal to Virgil as overall people but Roman was their friend so he started to get to know them for the sake of his best friend. He didn’t even really know them honestly, they almost never talked about themselves or their interests or anything in terms of personal information, the conversations almost consistently focused on the drama going around the school that day. There was something new every time they went over. For a solid month, he and Roman would go chat for a minute or two before going off to find Patton and Logan.

That was actually what they were just doing that day when one of Roman’s friends got Virgil’s attention.

“Hey Virgil, tell us about yourself, yeah?” one of the girls asked, the guy she was just talking with fixing his gaze on to Virgil too.

Virgil looked over to Madison if he remembered correctly, trying to hide most of his shock at the fact that she even addressed him. Not many of Roman’s friends acknowledged him much when they would go over but Virgil guessed they’d taken some interest in him. He had been coming over with Roman for quite a good while now, it figures they’d notice his presence at some point. He had to respond quick though, this chance couldn’t go to waste. “Uh, ok, what do you want to know?”

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Well, an odd question to start off with.

Virgil shrugged a bit. “Eh, just what everyone else listens to, you know? Not really anything in particular. It’s not like I really look for songs to listen to by anyone specific.”

Roman nudged him with a snort. “Since when has this ever been the case? If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you’re emo through and through,” he said, a certain fondness to his look. Virgil bumped his shoulder with a laugh back, fixing him with a playful glare.

“And what if I can like things that you don’t expect of me, huh?” Virgil asked with a slight tease. Roman simply raised an eyebrow but shrugged, letting the argument go without much more of a struggle. Roman wasn’t wrong though, he still listened to everything that he had before, none of it had changed despite what he said. Definitely none of what people usually listened to. He was never one to follow trends with music or otherwise and Roman unfortunately knew that.

“Do you do anything interesting?” one of the people joining the conversation asked.

“Things here and there, not exactly much. School is a drag, takes up way too much of my time to actually let me focus on anything even remotely interesting,” Virgil said calmly, trying to look casual. He hoped it was working, he felt like a nervous wreck. With a few laughs and a “Fuck yeah it is!” he mustered up the courage to add in, “I draw if that counts for anything.”

“Oh yeah? Mind if we take a look?”

Virgil nodded and rummaged through his bag, finding a leather bound book. This one happened to be his more serious one, he had another that was far more personal stashed away. Only Roman, Patton, and Logan ever saw that one, and not even in its full entirety. The personal one had gotten a lot more use than the one currently in his hands. Virgil slid the book over the table and he watched as it was opened to a page of really messy scribbles in the shape of a distraught person’s face. He’d remembered drawing that one, he was in the middle of history sophomore year having a panic attack but was too nervous to ask to step outside.

“Woah, this is cool man,” Tyler said as he looked over it, others nodding in agreement. They proceeded to flip through the pages for a bit while they took turns asking him more questions.

With so much talk, Virgil noticed Roman jump up suddenly, tugging at Virgil’s sleeve frantically. “Pat and Specs!” he explained before packing up his things frantically. “So sorry guys, I need to talk to them before we have to go to class! I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!” he shouted out as he started speed walking, Virgil in tow. Virgil barely managed to collect up his stuff before he was at Roman’s side, seeing the slightest crease between Roman’s eyebrows. As relieved as Virgil was to be away from all of the questions and potential judgement, he noticed Roman was in a big rush. He couldn’t really place why.

“Hey, you uh.. You ok? What’s up?” Virgil asked, relieved as Roman slowed down a little as they turned a corner.

“I just want to get to Pat and Specs, they’re our friends you know?” Roman asked with a bit of an edge before sighing. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect you to uh.. Hit it off so much with them, I usually just say a quick hello really,” he explained.

“Really? You think so?” Virgil really hoped he was impressing the popular kids, they were Roman’s friends after all. If he was having luck with them, he wasn’t going to lose Roman that easily. He couldn’t possibly do that, not when he’d already put so much at risk.

“Yeah but anyone who doesn’t like you how you are is insane,” Roman said lowly. Virgil thought he saw Roman’s jaw clench for a second but he quickly looked ahead of them as Roman glanced over.

Virgil was tackled in a hug by Patton, causing him to smile as he hugged back. He didn’t smile for long though as the bell rang, causing Roman to sigh. He looked over, laughing a little awkwardly. “Ha, sorry Ro, didn’t mean to make us so late.”

Roman shrugged. “It’s ok, just means we’ll have to get here as soon as possible tomorrow!” With that, he and Logan started to talk as they headed to class together.

Virgil watched as Roman walked away from him and Patton and he frowned slightly before Patton was nudging his shoulder and nodding his head to the direction of their classes.

Virgil nodded back and started walking, burying his hands deep into his pockets. He really wished he had his usual hoodie to pull over his head and hide from the world. His bangs would have to do, giving him a good look at the sickeningly sweet pink he’d decided on a month prior. Who let him do that again?

“Hey, you ok?” Patton asked, silently offering Virgil a cookie. Snickerdoodle today, Virgil would’ve usually loved it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Virgil told him. “I’m not hungry, thanks though.”

Patton looked at him with a worried look for a second before sighing, taking a bite of the cookie himself. “Alright Virge, if you say so. Who knows, maybe some rest is all you need, make sure you go easy on yourself!”

Virgil agreed, looking ahead of them.

He went home that day and went through the motions in a haze, glad when he finally got out of his disgustingly bright outfit. He stared blankly at the wall when he got a text from Roman.

“Hey, sorry I was so tense where we left things off.. I promise you didn’t do anything, that was all me.”

“What was up with that?” Virgil texted back.

Roman’s response took a minute before it popped up on Virgil’s screen. “I don’t know, I just didn’t expect them to really take such an interest in you. They can be a bit... Stuffy. Like, all the time, I much prefer hanging out with you, Pat, and Specs.”

“I mean, they’re your friends right? They asked me questions, I answered.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Some of your answers surprised me though lol, you are truly a dark and stormy knight after all!”

“Hey, I’m allowed to expand my tastes, aren’t I? You got me into some of your dumb musicals after all.”

“They are not dumb, take that back you jerk!”

Virgil snorted, hugging his pillow to his chest as he typed out another message. “Oh yeah? Make me, you pompous thespian drama queen.”

“I just might!”

Before Virgil could respond, Roman shot him a quick text reading “Shit, GTG, I need to run a few scenes before I sleep! Until tomorrow~!”

“Go chase your dreams of ‘professional make believe’ as Logan would say, night.”

As an afterthought, Virgil tacked on a red heart before blushing harshly, cursing into his hands. He really did that, no taking that one back now was there?

Either way, check in time. Roman was still his friend, they just had a normal conversation like two human beings ought to be able to have. While he seemed a little off-put by some of the changes Virgil was talking about, he didn’t seem to take it as a serious offense so a plus there. The clothes were horrible, Virgil still hated his hair, but he was doing this for Roman so he’d suck it up. Roman’s friends were starting to like him, they liked his art so that was good. Luckily they latched on to something he couldn’t lie about.

Just as Virgil was about to go to bed, another notification popped up on his phone, this time from an unknown number. Virgil stared at it for moment, his brow furrowed. He opened it though and read it.

“Hey Virgil, this is Madison! Got ur number from Roman’s phone lol, hope u don’t mind sweetie!”

Well, he kind of did mind but putting that aside-

“Hi, did you need anything?”

“Not rn but I might! Just wanted to have ur number just in case. Anyways, I’m going to bed, see u tomorrow!”

Virgil nodded to himself before he got one more text.

“BTW loveeeee ur artwork, keep up the good work bby!”

This was certainly... Bizarre. He didn’t expect to ever have the number of a popular girl in his phone but he never knew high school would be this insane. He’d survive this though, for Roman if nothing else. And if not, he just might lose Roman forever and never be able to forget about it for as long as he lives! Ok, breathe Virgil, breathe...

Things would work out, Virgil was going to make sure they did or die trying. Nobody, Roman included, could think to stop him now.

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More Prom Queen content huh? Anyways hey hey hey guys! How’d you like the newest chapter?

To be honest, I’m not sure how to feel about this one. I feel like all of my writings sound like they’re in an echo chamber. Like as if the events are completely isolated and don’t fit into an expansive narrative and existence. I have no idea if that makes a bit of sense, it might just be my depression tbh? It’s been kicking my butt more than usual.

But Virgil is finally getting noticed by the popular kids, woohoo! This obviously can’t go wrong! We shall see what Virgil will be getting up to with time!

As always, feel free to leave comments or send me asks and whatnot if you want to talk with me about the story! I’d love to hear from you guys!

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Taglist: @artissijules, @virgils-paranoia, @its-the-cat-queen, @myyoutubecorner, @marshmallow-the-panda, @anotheregofanficblog, @tssidesfamily, @shapa-likes-art, @isabelle-stars, @falsemood, @katlikethesword

[tracynotabi]

Riptide Day 2 / Undertow

September 11, 2021

D-Day.

Kevin, Ivan, Joey, and I were getting a ride from Spencer, who was also taking Narq to the venue, while Robert and Parker got a ride from someone else. Well, at least we didn’t have to walk to the venue. I didn’t pack sunscreen.

At 9am, about half an hour we were supposed to leave, Kevin gets a stomachache.

Me: He just needs to poop. Spencer: The classic.

We end up going to the lobby to wait for Spencer in Narq, which was fine considering we actually didn’t want Spencer, our ride, waiting for us.

Spencer: Okay, Narq’s just using the bathroom rq lol Me: Is he also having tummy problems Spencer: Nah just bein stoner and forgetting to do stuff lol Me: The classic

We go get Chick-fil-A and I’m sitting underneath the dashboard again by Kevin’s feet. I think the employees were very bewildered, as the woman on the other side of the window did a double take. I would, too, if I saw a smaller-than-average person just hiding underneath the dashboard sipping on a cup of Coke.

Some time after I get to the venue during doubles, I end up talking to Jimmy (j u m), when Kevin comes rushing over to me, a panicked look on his face.

Forgot to mention, but Kevin actually couldn’t get all of his poop out before coming to the venue and now it is back with a vengeance.

He tells me that he’s unable to go to any restroom because there were three stalls in the men’s restroom: two were occupied and one was clogged with poop.

He had tried flushing the poop one but it only made it worse. It just clogged more and the water level rose. If he had sat down and insisted on finishing, his balls would be touching the water and that’s a no-no.

He tried asking the front desk for other restrooms, but he was informed it was the only one. He was desperate and you could just see it in his eyes that he was about to break.

Me, using the big, wrinkly brain that I had, told him to use the women’s restroom. He froze, not even realizing that that was an option.

Now before anyone complains, hear me out.

I would rather be in a restroom with a male in the stall next to me, than exit the restroom and see someone standing outside the men’s restroom trying to wait for a stall with a shit stain in his pants. Excuse the vulgarity, but it’s true.

If you’re ever at one of my tournaments and you need to go and no male restroom is unoccupied, for the love of god, please fucking use the women’s restroom. I do not need this mess on my hands and you best believe I’m shoving myself in the men’s restroom if I gotta fucking go expel unicorns and rainbows.

I go to the restroom with Kevin and stand awkardly on my phone to keep watch, because he didn’t want any of the staff members actually seeing him and risk himself getting kicked out of the venue.

That would’ve been extremely unfortunate.

Luckily, nobody else needed to go use the restroom while Kevin was in there and he was able to safely compete his duty (lol).

If anyone is upset at my suggestion, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t about to not provide such a simple solution for Kevin’s emergency.

Anyway, the tournament start shortly after that.

First match I pay attention to is Kevin vs. Wombat. In my head, I think it’s pools so I shouldn’t worry too much. I try to watch Kevin’s sets, but it makes me physically ill sometimes because my anxiety is wracked up like crazy and I just want to throw up. Many have witnessed me walking away and trying to distract myself multiple times at multiple different tournaments.

It’s like that gory horror movie that you can’t keep looking away from.

Besides knowing that I get sick, I figured it would be fine since I actually enjoy trying to support my boyfriend and watch him come out of pools winners’ side. Not meaning any disrespect by Wombat, by the way. He’s great. Just realistic. It’s like how I expect Kevin to lose to Bob.

Kevin loses Game 1.

Ooh my tummy’s doing barrel rolls like the way Twisty did with that pullout bed. I look away but I’m just so distracted by the crowd noises.

I totally get it, though. Obviously, it’s sick that Wombat’s holding his own against Kevin, who is seed 3 of the tournament. I’d be excited, too, if my friend was making an upset on someone else. But Kevin’s my boyfriend, so obviously, I want him to win.

Kevin barely wins Game 2 and I’m like ooooh boy. My tummy’s going to town and I think I gag a little by how sick I feel. Gotta focus on getting Joey his next match. *deep breaths*

When heartswaptv airs the whole tournament, definitely check out the set. It was really good (as far as I can hear, I couldn’t bring myself to watch the rest of it).

Kevin comes over to me after he’s out of pools and I scold him for making me worried.

AND YOU NOW WHAT HE SAYS?

Kevin: Babe, it’s fine - I almost lost to Zeddy at Redacted City and I got 2nd. I’ll be fine. Me: T____T *incoherent whining noises*

Does Kevin thinks he’s fucking cute for saying that or something? I was not amused.

Since I didn’t have to volunteer TO the entirety of the tournament, I bounced around mingling with other people.

At one point, I get a message from Suvir in our group chat about how he, Sosa, and Narq were planning on coming to visit NorCal. Of course, since Narq was already here, I decided to just go up to him and ask.

Me: So I heard you’re coming to NorCal? Narq: I am? Me: That’s what Suvir said. *shows phone* Narq: I guess I’m going to NorCal!

Suvir: Narq doesn’t actually know. Sosa just said he’d take him with him and said Narq would agree to go because he’s Narq. Me: Oh that makes sense why he had no idea what I was talking about.

It wasn’t until around top bracket did things start to pick up. Not too many spoilers, because (1) no spoilers before they upload the vod and (2) I have a terrible memory when it comes to the matches.

I remember holding up Kevin’s phone to stream to our Discord because we had some non-PM player friends who wanted to see and I think Kevin wanted Thomas (ThundeRzReiGN) to give him some advice throughout the tournament. Not actually coach, but to critique his play.

As more and more top players fell, Kevin made it a goal to do his best not to fall into the landmine that was Losers’. So many heavy hitters were large threats to him: Techboy, Malachi, Akimi, Cloudburst...

Not to say that Winners’ side didn’t have their fair share of monsters: Peter, Parker, Kumatora, Twisty, Nogh, Lunchables...

Kevin’s first match in Top 32 was against Bongo, who people sleep on quite a lot. For those of you that don’t know him, he’s a Captain Falcon from NY who actually beat Kevin at Flex Zone 3 in 2018. Kevin had beaten him at Encore, but it wasn’t easy.

Not to mention Falcon is a pain the butt for Mario. Unfortunately, the match was not recorded (as far as I know), and it was a very exciting match from what I heard. I avoided watching it because based on how long it took, I knew it had to have been a Game 5. During that time, two matches have been finished on “stream.”

Kevin had said his match against Bongo was the toughest one he had - not to discredit his other opponents, of course - but according to him, it was the scariest and closest. Also the threat of being put into Losers so early would’ve made the climb to Top 8 a lot harder.

His overall goal was actually to make Top 8. Despite being a third seed and rank 5, what I’ve noticed about Kevin is that he does have doubts about himself quite often. He’s never complacent in his opponents and worries all the time about being upset and I don’t think anyone puts more pressure on him more than himself.

As I watched my friends progress through bracket, all I can think is there’s not much I can do. I don’t understand the game very much, despite my heavy involvement in the scene. In fact, more often than not, I believe I understand the game the least compared to everyone else.

A tangent from the actual tournament itself is coming, but I think I should address why I’m even in this community:

While everyone loves the game, I love the community behind it. I find it worth it to sit/stand in one location for hours at a time because it allows my friends to enjoy the game they love comfortably without worrying how the tournament is progressing. They can focus on their own growth and passion.

I think what I see is completely different. Like I said, I don’t really understand this game - I can’t differentiate uairs, bairs, d-smashes, etc. I compute it in my head, but can’t visualize it. I don’t recognize most combos - in fact, more often than not, I’m sitting there just staring at the screen kind of blankly. Sometimes, it does make me wonder if I really am part of this community because I don’t really understand the game.

I can’t say I particularly care too much about the game, but I understand how much of an impact it’s made on me and for that, I’m very thankful for this game because it’s led me to some great people.

Back to the actual event and less sap. lol. Is anybody still even reading?

For something put together in a mere two weeks, Trin and their team did an amazing job. Three recording set ups, graphics, a pot, a venue... props to them for gathering the scraps and making a whole out of it. And to think we almost didn’t go.

Madeline (Swanner) ended up coming and it was honestly so good to see her. We aren’t particularly close, but she’s someone I’ve come to care for and just want happiness for her.

Major spoiler, but I don’t think anybody who cares about PM/P+ doesn’t know Kevin won the tournament.

Everyone expected a pop-off, but Kevin just sat there, crying.

I don’t think there’s ever been anything that Kevin has been more passionate about. He loves this game; he loves this community. Never did it ever occur to him that he would win.

I wish I could say more, but honestly, him winning stunned me speechless. And if you didn’t know, the first thing he said after was that he had to call his mother.

His mom is one of his biggest supporters and I love her to death. She has such a huge heart and has never, ever frowned upon Kevin’s love for the game, whole-heartedly supporting it.

I hugged Maddy, because I can’t even imagine how heart-breaking it must be for her to see what could have been on the mainstage. I imagined how much it must’ve hurt her because she just loves the game and the community, but to see it constantly be torn down by Nintendo and her unable to do anything... Give Maddy a hug and thank her if you see her. She deserves the world.

We ended up walking home with PNW, Bob, Mar, Bongo, Cameron (LoyaL), Ivan, and a few others, honestly too dark to completely see and name. It was a very nice night.

We did, however, pass by the rundown house that definitely looked like if we were to talk in there, we’d be killed by the axe murderer that lived there.

Kevin also lagged behind a lot because his phone notifications were going off like crazy and I was worried he was going to just get lost in the darkness or get hit by a car. Stop looking at your phone when you cross the street, dammit.

We got back to our hotel room and ordered pizza - it was bad. God-fucking-dammit, Ohio, why do you suck so much? Kind of a shitty dinner to end the day on, but nothing else was open at 2am. FeelsBadMan.

[general-mahamatra]

ahh im so glad!!! thank you for your answer! to expand on the protective hcs, how do u think each of the wolves show their protective side?? like, what kind of things would they all do for eachother? ALSO (i hope this isnt too much fknhknh) but sexuality hcs and maybe family hcs too? like the kind of families they have outside of pack and how it effects how they get along with their wolfy fam

Of course! I love the anons I've been getting and yours blessed my night so much! I really wanna give you a name so I can refer to you if you ever come back 👉🏻👈🏻

Maybe,,,, maybe timber anon,,, cmere timber anon I fucking love you so much

(damn this became long)

But protective sides!

Jack: Jack is the kind to do anything to protect his pack, even if it means going behind their backs to work with the order. His idea of protecting them is taking important tasks on his own and electing explicit help from specific Order members when necessary. He doesn't want his packmates to get hurt in some way so when it's life or death and only one person needs to get hurt or die? That'll be Jack. He will do anything to make sure his new family is safe, even if it means putting his life on the line.

He tends to ignore their please to help him, often shutting them out to do it all himself. He rarely tells them the entirety of his plans, even when they're as a group. He'll always give the instructions of grouping the other wolves together but he always scopes around on his own. Never, NEVER does he let someone accompany him. If someone is gonna get hurt, it will only be him.

Hamish: he's very protective, that's definitely known. Just not in terms of he'll go out and kill someone for it just because they're a threat. He's much more of a talking kinda guy. Pep talks, stern conversations, that sorta thing. He's much more likely to see how far he can get with his words before he moves on with anything else, but he's prone to get angry. While he isn't physical, his tone gets harsh and he'll do everything considered to be rage except for scream. When he's angry, he talks fast and sharp. His words will jumble together and he will get up close and personal, but never hit.

His protectiveness is more within the pack than taking out threats. He's one to give them a dose of reality and tell them what's up.

Randall: his idea of protection is using common sense. He will always point out when something is a terrible idea and makes a stand. He refuses to be swayed from his position and even if he loses a game of beer pong and is forced to agree, his mind is never changed. He will ways express his worries. "The Order is our ENEMY", "they tried to kill us a couple months ago!", "they literally stole our memory to control us", "this is a FUCKING DEMON HOW DUMB ARE YOU GUYS??"

Although the pack tends to make him a pushover, he will never shut up. In fact, being shoved to the side in big important missions is what makes Randall louder. He WILL be heard and he WILL make sure of it. And even if someone says his idea is bad, he will stew. He will sit and broil over until he figures out how to get his idea and pull it off. Even if it means risking his own hide to kill someone to complete a ritual.

Lilith: oh yes, Lilith. The girl named after the mother of all demons. You know her idea of protection is vicious. She is the one who will openly go to slit someone's throat for so much as looking at one of her packmates wrong. And she is snarly. She will growl and snap at whoever gets too close and will gladly punch someone for saying something wrong.

Her idea of protection is genuine killing. She is open about how vicious she is and uses it to her advantage to keep her pack safe. She refused to let anyone lay a harmful finger on her family.

-----

Sexualities!

These are my personal views on these characters from watching the show! I'm completely open to all other interpretations!

Jack: straight! He may have dabbled a bit with men but in the end, he came out preferring girls.

Hamish: he doesn't label himself. To the outside view he is bisexual but if you ask him, he will say he likes whoever. Labels just aren't for him.

Randall: bisexual! And he is VERY open about it. He is a genuine 50/50 with boys and girls and will openly admire them all. He's also definitely the most queer and accepting given how casual he is with cross dressing and how affectionate he has been with both Hamish and Lilith separately.

Lilith: bisexual leaning girls! She has expressed interest in boys (as seen with Randall) but in the end definitely prefers girls. She may end up being lesbian later on but for now, she still has minor interests in boys from time to time!

-----

Their families outside of the pack

Jack: we already know about his family. With basically all of them gone, Jack is left alone in the world with only his friends. Its why he's so protective of them. He's already lost his blood, he doesn't want to lose his found family.

Hamish: he isn't that open about his family but he has mentioned them. Given how we don't know how old he is, it's difficult to determine a lot about him. From my basic guess, he's in his late twenties given his parents are both still alive and how close he is with the pack despite being the senior member.

He is DEFINITELY a trust fund baby, but he's good with it. He's spoiled with money (probably from his mom marrying a sugar daddy or something--which could allude to why he's "hot for teach") and resources. But, given how he's genuinely mature and seen to live within the den, it's safe to assume his family taught him how to properly use his money. They seem like they have a good relationship.

He's definitely an only child and it's very much why he seems so much more mature. He grew up on his own and after years of learning how to deal with people, he is able to properly deal with the pack and assert himself properly while still being open and genuine. He never takes full control.

Randall: he has brothers for sure, it's why he's so athletic. He comes from a family centered around sports and football and every Superbowl they would send the boys out to play with the rest of the family at their parties. Its what got Randall so into working out and sports. Of course there were fights, but he got along with them pretty well since they were all close in age. Obviously, he was the youngest but shh, only by a year.

Its why he's so energetic and playful with all the pack. He's boisterous and loves to harass the others, especially Hamish with the nicknames. To be fair, though, he nicknames EVERYONE. Jack is only ever Jacky Boy in his mind.

Lilith: she isn't too close to her family. She isn't open about them at all and never mentions them to anyone else. Most of her times over the holidays are spent on campus with either the pack or some of her friends from other classes. Its not entirely known why she doesn't like her family, but it's suspected it may have had to do with her feisty attitude and tendency to lash out at those close to her.

It's possible she had a sister and was known to be close with her despite a bunch of arguments. They were probably the reason Lilith ended up splitting away from her family.

Its why she tries so hard to stay close with the pack while also keeping them at a distance. She doesn't want a repeat of what happened with her sister; she can't lose another family.

[otonymous]

I just found this and omg,, i’m in love with your writing and stories!! I read your nsfw alphabet for Lucien, how about one for my man Victor? :D

Hi dear Anon! 

Thank you so much for checking out my work and your super sweet comment!  💕Here’s a NSFW alphabet for everyone’s favourite pudding-making, time-controlling CEO!  Hope you like it and happy reading! 😊

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.

The ABCs of Victor (MLQC Headcanon - NSFW)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Victor enjoys taking a warm, luxurious bath with you after sex, your back laying flush against his rock hard pecs and the man soaping every deliciously sore body part with the gentlest of hands, as if paying homage to a goddess who took him to new heights of pleasure.  Expect to be surrounded by lit candles with beautifully subtle scents

Afterwards, relax and rejuvenate in his silk sheets and a mattress so comfortable you have to double check to ensure you’re not sleeping on a cloud

Victor already had his butler prepare a sumptuous yet healthy spread for the two of you, left on a cart outside his bedroom door

You can bet he’ll have some of that pudding from Souvenir as a special post-coital treat

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your collarbones: loves pressing kisses and running his tongue along them.  Gets a certain sense of satisfaction in buying you the most exquisite necklaces to further highlight their appeal

Just the slightest peek from the collar of your top has the blood rushing to his cock

Victor is proud of his broad shoulders and arms, especially his biceps: they’ve always been naturally buff, and he loves to bounce you in the air for some hot standing sex (bonus points if there’s a mirror nearby)

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

This elegant man loves to give you an equally elegant pearl necklace by cumming on your neck and chest

He also loves it when you swallow (please see “Dirty Secret” below)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Victor loves to see your mouth glisten with his cum, and he especially loves tasting it from your lips

The CEO cannot resist pulling you in for a deep kiss after you’ve taken his release in your mouth

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Victor knows what he is doing: his attentiveness to your physical and emotional needs will keep you beyond satisfied and coming back for more

He had a past relationship with an older, more experienced female who gave him a crash course in sex, sensuality and seduction

F = Favourite Position

Like Lucien, Victor has a couple of favourites

He loves to bounce you onto his cock while he’s standing up, your legs hooked over his elbows and pressed against the solid bulge of his biceps

There is no shortage of mirrors in his bedroom: this man loves to watch as he impales you onto his rock hard erection, fully drenched in your arousal

He also enjoys good old Missionary with a twist: your head is hanging off the edge of the bed, the position making your collarbones more prominent.  Victor cannot help but mark them up with fervent kisses as he’s pounding into you, the blood rushing to your head as well as your pussy

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)

Overall, Victor tends to be more serious when it comes to lovemaking, although there have been times when you’ve made him chuckle with an odd comment

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Victor is bare.  Completely bare.  Feel free to suck his balls into your mouth

You wouldn’t even know if the carpet matches the drapes because the man keeps his personal aesthetician busy

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Victor is incredibly big on romance and affection

Throughout the act, he’s looking deeply into your eyes, kissing your lips, the tip of your nose, your closed eyelids, pressing his forehead to yours, burying his face into the nape of your neck to inhale deeply

Contrary to the brusque way in which he usually speaks on a daily basis, words of devotion and admiration are spilling from his lips

He’s telling you he loves you, that you’re his everything and the one thing he cannot lose in his life.  That he would willingly throw everything away for you if that’s what it took to make you happy, that the fruits of his hard labour would amount to nothing if you weren’t there to share them with him

And he means every word

It may not be readily apparent, but Victor needs you to tell him you love him with all your heart as well; for someone who comes off as completely confident and self-assured, you might be surprised to find that he always craves this reassurance

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

The CEO masturbates around 2-3 times/week

Victor prefers to remain pent-up to heighten your lovemaking sessions when they finally do happen

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

As mentioned previously, Victor loves to watch as you make love: his bedroom has a number of well-placed mirrors and he has made recordings of you guys in the past (all securely encrypted, of course)

When the CEO does jerk off, he’ll often refer to these videos

He also loves fucking you in the ass (only if you’re down with it, of course)

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Places that are comfortable, luxurious and completely private…so in his own home or the penthouse suites of the most expensive hotels

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Needless to say, you’re his biggest motivation (see “intimacy” above)

The sight of you riding a horse also does things to him

Victor is putty in your hands when you kiss his.  Suck his long, tapered fingers into your mouth and shyly lick at his knuckles and the CEO will be restraining himself from ripping off every article of clothing from your body

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Like Lucien, Victor does NOT share

He wants you in your entirety and would be completely broken on the inside if you even mention adding another participant into the mix in the bedroom

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Definitely prefers to give oral and THE MAN IS SKILLED & THOROUGH

Don’t get me wrong, Victor loves having your lips and tongue on his cock as well, but he really gets off on giving you pleasure and tending to your every need

He really wants to please you

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

At least initially, Victor tends towards slow and sensual because of his MASSIVE COCK

He is patient and meticulous when it comes to his foreplay: he knows how important it is to ensure you are fully aroused, opened and properly lubricated before he even considers entering you for fear of hurting you

Once you have comfortably acclimatized to his size, the pace and depth of Victor’s thrusts will start to increase

He will never, ever be needlessly rough (the man always has your comfort in the back of his mind)

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Not a big fan of quickies

To Victor, lovemaking is a ritual and cannot be rushed

If he had his way, he would devote an entire day to enjoying each other’s bodies, relishing the time spent in really getting to know one another incredibly well: the places to lick to make you moan the loudest, the frequency with which his fingers should press and curl deep inside you to make your legs tremble and shake

He would rather forego sex than engage in a quickie, waiting for the opportunity to take you to his home or at least a luxe penthouse suite at the best five-starred hotels

This also has the added benefit of getting the two of you so pent-up that the sex is absolutely EXPLOSIVE when you finally get the chance to be alone together

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Victor himself tends to be a bit more reserved, but he’s willing to experiment for your sake if you express interest in something (as long as it doesn’t involve a third party — see N above)

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Victor is a swimmer and fit as shit, so you know the man’s got stamina for DAAAAYYYSSSS

Quality over quantity: the CEO can go a couple of rounds per lovemaking session, but each round lasts a while

He’s able to exert incredible control over his body, pulling back at the right time to delay his release, then slowly building it up all over again

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Victor doesn’t have toys to use on himself

But he does have a vibrator from that time you expressed curiosity in how it would feel to be double-penetrated. That toy has since seen many uses.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Victor isn’t much of a tease at all

Believe it or not, he actually lives to please you — so feel free to tease him as much as you want if that’s what you’re into

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Mr CEO is not known for being loud in the bedroom

That’s not to say he won’t pant hot and moist in your ear just as he’s about to come

Expect heavy breathing, the odd moan and groan here and there

That doesn’t mean your man is silent: Victor loves to talk, his language both sweet and filthy at the same time

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Before you have to part, the man likes to reach between your legs to gather and smear your arousal on several of his pulse points, much like he would with cologne, just so he can have the subtle hint of your scent remind him of you for the rest of the day

Contrary to his usual exacting and stern external façade, Victor is actually super, super soft for you - this is typically revealed during moments of intimacy

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Victor has a BIG COCK (see Pace above)

The man is long AND thick

Not much curvature

Cut and completely bare

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is average (see Quickie) — the man is able to delay gratification until he’s capable of properly fucking you well and good

It also cannot be helped that the man is so busy keeping tabs on so many things at LFG — he simply cannot afford to be thinking about sex all the time

All the same, his sex drive goes from zero to sixty at the slightest remembrance of you

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Doesn’t fall asleep quickly after sex

Victor needs time to come down from his high even after all that physical exertion and his climax — hence he enjoys taking a nice, warm bath with you afterwards: you’re able to clean yourselves off while relaxing and preparing for a nice post-coital slumber

——————————————————————————————-

Thanks for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[honeymoonjin]

day 11 & 12

With Festa in full swing last week, I feel like I didn’t have a chance to breathe let alone sit down long enough to articulate a review worthy of Day 11. I shall endeavor to do my very best to make up for that here. And, upon reading the start of Day 12, I am actually kinda glad I waited because I think that it gave me time to put both chapters into perspective. 

Day 11 was a very emotional one for Jungkook and I feel like we got to see those emotions coming to a head in this chapter. On the whole, Day 11 was such a fun, lowkey entry that I wasn’t really sure if I would have anything coherent to offer beyond high pitched squealing accompanied by the occasional swoon and cooing. But after seeing the tension and subsequent squabble that transpired at the breakfast table on Day 12, I see that perhaps there was more to ruminate concerning the feelings that Jungkook had experienced in the confessional booth. It’s so interesting from a writers perspective that you chose Jungkook to be the one to reiterate the whole point of the show; he’s younger, thus perhaps conventionally he’s a bit more emotionally immature than the rest of the guys. And yet, from the beginning, none of these guys have ever been portrayed as stereotypical or conventional; you have always expertly reminded the audience that each of the contestants (including our lady!) is more much complex than what meets the eye. It’s one of the things that I love so much about this series; none of the characters are ever “too perfect” and it’s those candid moments of vulnerability or weakness that truly makes this story stand out from a lot of other stories that I read. So to choose Jungkook as the person to make those “bold” comments and to have Namjoon be the one to call him out for being insensitive makes me feel like Jungkook’s response was much more complex than what it seems at glance. Like, it’s pretty obvious that Jungkook likes and respects our lady and perhaps he realized his indiscretion just a little to late but now he’s put on the spot, he’s been called out in front of everyone, and beyond the fact that he probably feels like shit for saying what he said and inadvertently hurting our lady in the process. He’s probably also hella embarrassed. I wonder too if maybe Jungkook is also ashamed that the person who called him out was Namjoon, someone who I want to believe, he respects and perhaps maybe admires a little. And despite the fact that I chuckled a little bit when our lady noticed that Jungkook was “staring at his pancakes like he’s trying to make them burst into flames”, I realized that he might also be both angry and disappointed in himself for his behavior. *sigh* Boy, you were so right all those weeks ago when you said “emotions are messy”. Anyway, that’s my roundabout way of saying, I liked the breakfast scene. Haha! Drama is inevitable; I love that you don’t shy away from presenting conflict for them to overcome. It offers opportunities for character growth and character exploration and I really appreciate that! 

Speaking of character growth, Namjoon got a chance to really flex those skills he acquired from “Hoseok’s School of Sexual Prowess”. That scene left me melting! Melting, I say! I’m not sure if you noticed but I make it a point to not reveal who my actual bias is in these reviews because I feel like I want to give all of the guys a chance to win me over for fan favorite. What I will say though is that you kind of hit on a lot of my personal preferences with Namjoon’s scene. Beyond the fact that the scene was really, really hawt, it fulfilled me on an emotionally intimate level, so it made the scene extra special. Bravo! 

And I suppose Jimin also deserves a standing ovation for that amazing show he put on. Holy smokes that was so hot. From the light banter and quips at the beginning of that scene to Jimin actually owning that entire lounge! And as amazing as the show (plus subsequent private scene with our lady afterwards) was, my favorite bit might be the exchange between Jimin and Hoseok, another scene that filled with tension and new revelations! It might actually be the most fascinating scene because it gave a glimpse at something rather unexpected; something has transpired between Hoseok and Jimin. I might be reading too much into the exchange but it feels as though something has happened away from the cameras between them. Because it feels like there has been a shift from blatant hostility between these two to something more akin to a genuine understanding that this is now a battle for power and control. I could be reaching but I feel like, at the very least, there have been words exchanged between them! It made the scene all the more intriguing! I loved every moment of it. Oh! Speaking of which, what is up with Jin?! When Yoongi asked Jin to speak to Kookie about what had happened that morning, it seemed he was a bit apprehensive to take up the task. I know that there might not be anything more there than just the fact that Jin might not want to be the one to have to broach the subject with Kookie but I feel like there’s more there than what meets the eye as well… my theory is in it’s fetus stage though, so I feel like I’ll hold back on my thoughts concerning Jin for now. And Yoongi, for that matter! I feel like there is something more there as well. AH! Too many theories to juggle! I will let you know what my thoughts are about it once I have gathered more adequate information. 

I still feel guilty for not being able to give you a full length review of Day 11. It really was such a great, light day. Jungkook’s scene left me all hot and bothered to the point where I spent the entirety of the week, searching up Jungkook smut fics to fulfill my Jungkook fix that that chapter evoked in me! Not to mention that the boys getting up to antics for a whiteboard that in the end they didn’t really need just made me all the more baffled by their behavior. It was fun, hilarious and just what I would expect from the guys.

To make up for not having anything for last week, I would like to take the opportunity to tell you about me loving this amazing story so much I nearly force-fed my best friend to read it with me so that I would have someone to fangirl with. Let me tell you a little bit about her. See, she doesn’t consume fanfics with as much verocity as I do. She is a very casual fanfic reader and if she does (which is rare in it of itself) she only ever reads MxM. Period. So when I told her the premises of “The Gentlemen” she was curious enough to read the contestant profiles. But I must say, from Day 1, you had her HOOKED! She would text me screenshots and emoji filled fangirlings in the wee hours of the morning (the only time she had to read at all) every single thing she loved about each chapter and it brings me so much joy that she was really dissecting and appreciating all the little things that I too loved about your story! We would have long, deep discussions about her prompt theories, her favorite members, tiny details that you’ve so expertly woven into the story (like Jimin’s tattoo for example, which is something she is obsessed with, btw) all of her favorite traits that our lady of the house has. It’s been so blissfully fun having this to share with her especially since I have her to thank for getting me into BTS in the first place. So, please know that you have a secret fan of “The Gentlemen” who would like you to know that she has been enjoying herself thoroughly and that she looks forward to your updates just as much as I do now! 

Anyhoo, I think I’ve prattled on long enough. Thank you so much for your continued hard work and dedication to this series! This was such an amazing chapter I cannot wait to see how everything unfolds; it feel as though these last 2 chapters have planted some major seeds (no pun intended!!); I look forward to see what it sows in the coming days. 💜 Jan

Oh my gosh! In all of my ramblings, I forgot to say "shout out to Lady Mango! You go get that stake, girly!" Also, YAY Grandma Park!! Heck, that entire exchange in the bathtub made me uwu so hard my heart is just a pile of mush rn! Also, also!! Jin x Tae is lowkey underrated, so thank you for that! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆ I lub u so much!! kthnxbye

---

i’m not ashamed (okay, maybe a little) to admit that i kinda teared up and did a happy lil dance when i saw the email that you’d sent in a submission fksdjfkds i figured you’d probably been busy with life or with the mountainloads of content bighit is giving us these days so i was content to wait patiently, and it just made it that much more exciting when i saw this come in !

thank you, as always, for being so sweet and articulate and thoughtful in your reviews of the chapters. often you point out things that make so much sense that perhaps i hadn’t even noticed when writing. other times you hit an idea that i’d slipped in right on the nose. 

jungkook definitely is having a pretty tumultuous time on the show. for him, i imagine he feels like he’s the only one having a difficult time ironing out his feelings, or that if anyone else is struggling too, that they’re acting like nothing’s up. i also feel like jungkook’s competitive streak comes through in unexpected ways. of course he feels proud of his sexual prowess and kinda wants to showboat a little bit, but i think there’s an aspect too where he needs to be the one that’s always bolder than the others to assert his position. writing the namkook scene i kind of drew on that feeling where you’re fighting with someone you care about or think highly of, and even as you realise you’re wrong, you don’t want them to think badly of you and so you desperately scramble for a way to come out on top or prove you’re in the right. there’s also def a degree of him trying to convince himself the show is just about sex and that the rest doesn’t matter. he certainly doesn’t feel that way inside, but we see him vouching from that position so fiercely in d12. 

i’m glad you liked the namjoon scene !! one day i’ll figure out your bias fkdsjfksdjk you do such a good job at analysing and discussing everyone equally that it’s difficult >.<

it’s so fascinating to hear your jihope theory that they’ve spoken before. i must keep my silence on the details BUT there will be a very important scene between them coming up in the next few days of the show that i think will really change things between them and also how the readers see them. i’m super excited to write it ! 

beyond that, i’m happy you noticed something about jin in this chapter.... yn and jin still haven’t resolved their issues yet, plus here we are having jin not respond that well to being asked to counsel one of the members, something he always stated he was happy to do,,,,, hmmmm 0.0

i love hearing your theories so much !!! i eagerly await getting new content out so i can see how they shift and change from release to release

and also you really don’t need to feel bad ! there’s never any obligation to write out a long review for every chapter, but you do so anyway and that means a lot to me xx if you’re busy one week you don’t have to force yourself to make time for it. we have over 50 chapters, so we’re in for the long haul ! there’s really no rush

ahhhh that’s so cool to hear about your friend! it always warms my heart hearing stories of people that got their friends to begin reading and stuff, honestly even the thought that people think about tgm outside of reading it blows me away, it feels so special that it’s something y’all wanna share and discuss w your loved ones xx 

YES LADY MANGOOO i love adding little slips of her in the chapters, i know she doesn’t factor into the main story that much but everyone can rest assured that all of the members of the house (okay, and probably our three on-site producers too) spend a lot of time with her, walking her and cuddling her and playing with her. tae is probably currently trying to teach her some commands, but of course the only one she’s got the hang of is lie down jskfjsd

(finally YES taejin is such an underrated duo i love them)

[grannygerd]

I’m Lynn from PVRIS! AMA

I’m Lynn from PVRIS. We just put out our new album Use Me which you can listen to HERE. This Saturday, we’re going to be playing our first album White Noise front to back in its entirety for the first time ever. You can get tickets for the live stream HERE.

Proof: https://imgur.com/9K4IgJf

DieDunkleFritte: Hey Lynn, would you rather have really small hands or really small feet? Best regards from germany :D pvrisofficial: Feet!!! Need normal sized hands to play instruments! haha

Nikkiestables: Lynn!!! I was in the US for my exchange and was going to FINALLY see you in person but I couldn’t:( do you think in the future you would tour Asia? Which parts would you like to explore? (Please say Hong Kong) pvrisofficial: We'd love to tour Asia more! We've loved the places we've been in Japan, Singapore, & South Korea so far! Would love to add Hong Kong!

ShadeOfNothing: Hey Lynn! I’ve been a PVRIS fan Since White Noise and I’ve loved seeing the band’s sound evolve through the years. I know you’re a huge believer in astrology, past lives, and the paranormal, so I was wondering if there were any crazy experiences you had witnessed or drew inspiration from while writing/producing Use Me. Thanks so much! pvrisofficial: yessssssss I am a nut. I didnt make Use Me in a haunted church this time but i DO think I stayed at a haunted airbnb. Food kept disappearing and then one night a giant ghostly handprint was left on my guitar case and my hand was way too small to have created it.

hinterscape: Hi Lynn! I've been following you guys since ~2014, you're awesome and I look up to you. Do you see yourself making music forever or how long do you see it if not? pvrisofficial: FOR-E-VER! It might take different forms and go through different stages but i think i will always be creating music!

imaliveunfortunately: Hi Lynn! First of all I love you and the style of music you've put out recently. I saw you at Reading last year, and in Manchester in 2017 so I'm really happy to seeing PVRIS get the exposure it deserves :) So it's gotta be asked, I understand there's issues with the label, but what are the chances of Mvdonna and Blood On My Hands being released? Whether it be as singles, on a new EP, the next album, etc? They're just damn good tracks pvrisofficial: I want them to come out SO BAD too haha. I want to make sure the production is perfect so its now a matter of finding the right collaborator for them.

CookThePasta: Do you believe in life after love? pvrisofficial: yes

OldManMalekith: Hi Lynn! How did working with JT on Use Me differ from your previous experiences with producers? Everyone that I've seen or heard work with him puts it as a really positive experience, and he helps make great stuff! pvrisofficial: He is the BEST. He was very similar to Blake in the sense that he was incredibly nurturing and encouraging, dedicated to making sure it was 100% everything I wanted and always stood up for me if the label ever tried to change it. His production style is definitely different but its extremely diverse. It's a lot punchier and crisper and a bit more minimal than in the past but i think it almost makes things more impactful that way!

villanelleinsuits: Hi Lynn! You’re a creative genius, thanks for existing. If you could live anywhere in the world where would it be and why?? pvrisofficial: I would love to live in the UK countryside!!! Maybe Bath or something.

Queenio01: How are you feeling today? pvrisofficial: Sleepy but EXCITED to rehearse!

dancorcoran: How often do you get recognised by fans in day to day life? pvrisofficial: Not too often! I usually get recognized at coffee shops and starbucks though? and Lush hahaha

jessica_pasta: Hi Lynn!!! Was wondering how do you make your synth patches? What synth sounds are your favorites? Thanks so much! Love PVRIS and all that you do ❤️❤️❤️❤️ pvrisofficial: I use Zebra a lot and also use a Prophet Rev2. One of my favorite things is to throw synths through different effects to get an entirely new sound!

ImadaPC: Hi Lynn, I got a question. What inspires you to make music and why? pvrisofficial: What inspires me is wanting to hear something I havent heard! I want to hear all my favorite artists and influences into one thing so that's usually how PVRIS stuff is inspired haha.

staceelogreen: What are your stand out albums of this year!:) pvrisofficial: Great Q! 070 Shake - Modus Vivendi Tinashe - Songs For You (technically 2019 but I've been jamming it all year) They. - The Amanda Tape KAYTRANADA - Bubba (2019 but it came out late 2019 so it counts as 2020 for me!) Howling - Colure

DH00338: What are you most excited about in terms of this new era of PVRIS? pvrisofficial: More writing!! and more collaborations!

creewitch: Hiya Lynn! I hope your morning is going well. When have you felt the proudest of yourself and why? ☺️ pvrisofficial: Oooo good Q! I always think there's room for improvement so it's hard to feel pride, but I am definitely grateful for my resilience through the crazy shit haha.

liky_gecko: Because you’re from the Boston area, what are your favorite spots to eat/hang out there? I may be going to school there pvrisofficial: Do itttt! My fav spots are a little outside of the city.... the Crane Estate, Mt. Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Maudslay State Park in Newburyport, Portsmouth NH, Shedd Park Cemetery in Lowell.

goszkv: Hi Lynn! Was wondering if you'll ever consider coming to Poland :( ofc post corona pvrisofficial: yes!

cecy_db_11: Hi Lynn! Can't wait to see you guys this Saturday. How do you feel once the songs you write (your personal feelings and thoughts) are available for the world to listen? Do you get used to that over time? pvrisofficial: Still getting used to that to be honest. Once songs are out, I weirdly stop listening to them. Prior to that I listen in the car a lot and drive around testing songs out haha.

musicfan1976: Do you think the spring 2020 shows will still happen or be rescheduled again due to Covid? Stay healthy and take care. pvrisofficial: I truly have no idea.... :( you take care too! <3

yikesmiles: Hey Lynn! I hope you’re well! I’ve always been curious, what was it that inspired you to make music? pvrisofficial: Good Q! WHen I write, I try to write music that I want to hear that hasn't crossed my path yet.

LeahLNurse: Is there any unreleased songs you wish made it onto White Noise? pvrisofficial: Nope!

JRuiz1775: Hey Lynn! I remember the first time I saw and heard you guys was when you opened for Pierce the Veil and Sleeping with Sirens. I was hooked and have tried to see you guys anytime you are in my area. My question for you is what is your favourite tour experience? What is your dream tour to be on? pvrisofficial: There's SO many favorite tour experiences. I love touring the UK and Europe a lot, exploring before shows is my favorite thing and has some of my favorite memories. Our UK/EU tour with BMTH was one of my favorites.

ac-36: hi lynn! i love your music so much, it means a lot to me. if you were to remake your past music now, how do you think it would be different, and what do you think the future direction of the band will be? pvrisofficial: I would definitely approach the drum production a bit different but keep it pretty similar with the other textures/instruments! Future direction can go anywhere! Definitely want to keep taking risks and trying new things, but still keeping it dark!

staceelogreen: If you could go back in time to give yourself advice, what would you say to your past self? pvrisofficial: Take it easy on yourself.

NouveauJacques: Hi Lynn, huge fan and I love the power behind your music. Do you ever write songs that are too emotional and feel conflicted about putting into an album? pvrisofficial: usually if they feel too emotional or heavy, I know they need to be released haha

Defiant-Strawberry37: Hi Lynn, hope everything's okay with you and the band. I'd like to ask you what PVRIS' era you think is the best and why? Hope I can see you guys someday soon acting in Portugal. Love you all! PS: why so Lynnda? *portuguese pun intended, beautiful = linda in portuguese* ly! pvrisofficial: Thanks! I love every era tbh but I'm definitely always the most excited on the present moment!

pvrisbae: youre the cutest little soul ily. whats ur fav song at the moment? pvrisofficial: Brian showed it to me! It's "Too Late" by Washed Out.

agnespvris: Hi Lynn!! Have you had any good laughter when you've been looking through the #pvrismemes ?? pvrisofficial: oh you betcha.

whothefuckisrvmi: ok so im not understanding shit about this app but im here for you pvrisofficial: thank u

vioIentbounce: hi lynn! what do you think will be your favorite song from use me to play live? pvrisofficial: I think.... Good To Be Alive or Gimme A Min

jaydenc30: hi lynn I just wanted to say how much I appreciate you and everything you do! I hope you are doing well, what was the first song you wrote for use me? What’s does PVRIS’s future look like to you? pvrisofficial: First song for Use Me was Old Wounds! I wrote it before the second album even came out haha

IrlandaBDelao: Hi lynn, would you be down to open commisions for tattoos? If so, how much would you charge for a drawing? pvrisofficial: I wish! I do not have time to at the moment :( but if I have time in the future, you will be first to know so you can get first dibs!

CookThePasta: are you really looking at all of our memes?? pvrisofficial: trying OUR BEST!!

nonoplznowhy: why did your parents name you Lynn? pvrisofficial: Lyndsey* but they always call me Lynn or Lynds. I was named after my mom's childhood bestfriend named Lynn, she passed away when my mom was pretty young :(

golrip: What is your favourite song on awknohawnoh and why? That album literally changed my life and shaped me into the person I am today so I would really love knowing your opinion. also: what's your favourite the weeknd song/album? pvrisofficial: NOLA 1! It was my favorite to write and the memory around that time is magical. We wrote it in New Orleans and it's my favorite city.

bnizz95: Hey Lynn!! I saw you guys perform for the first time live in Cambridge last September and im so excited about the stream. I was wondering what your favorite song/songs off this album are? Also, do you still steal rosemary from your neighbors? Hahaha pvrisofficial: hahaha I have a little rosemary plant that I use now :)

vioIentbounce: are you still making collages? if not, have you taken up any new artistic hobbies lately?❤️ pvrisofficial: Little collaging here and there :) I've been researching a lot of interior design and fashion design lately!

fee-lixdawkins: Hey Lynn! Excited for the livestream! I know you’re an AFI fan. What is your favorite album and song(s) by them? Would you ever want to tour with them? I’d kill to see that happen! Take care! pvrisofficial: Brian is the bigger AFI fan! I cant pick a fave Im scared

ivykrvft: How does it feel to (kinda) be performing again as an entire band after all these months? pvrisofficial: Really good!! Definitely going to be weird without you guys in front of us!!

Ariana_0918: hi lynn <3 i wanted to know when you saw florence in concert what was your favorite song she performed live? pvrisofficial: Cosmic Love. She played it first and it was acoustic, I instantly cried hahahaha

TheSinger_Z: Hey Lynn! How old were you when you first started writing songs? What is the most memorable prank/joke that you have pulled or has been pulled on you while on tour? How many instruments do you play and what’s your favourite? I just want to say thank you, you’re my biggest inspiration when it comes to music (I sing and I’m learning to play guitar and hope to do it professionally when I’m older as I’m only 14 😬), and I’m really thankful for you guys. I got meet and greet tickets for November 30th for the White Noise stream, so see you then! pvrisofficial: i was in the 3rd grade. the songs were horrible. Its not really a prank but we love having our in ear monitor tech do the worm on stage sometimes. Extra points when he does it in costume. I can play 7 instruments! Looking to add more to the arsenal over time. I love piano a lot and drums. Keep it up, can't wait to see you be a star!!! ALso the livestream is the 21st! DOnt want you to miss it :)

CheezeGrenade: I missed out on a lot of concerts growing up and I couldn't make it to a concert out of state that I bought tickets to about a year ago. Will you guys play through Awkohawnoh again in anyway? Such as Half/Winter/No Mercy/Walk Alone. Litterally that album and the one before got me through alot of depressive phases in my life and Awk has really inspired alot of my writing for a series I want to create someday. pvrisofficial: I cant wait for you to start writing it! You got this! We will be playing through AWKOHAWNOH but the date is not announced yet :)

srankie: Are y'all Pats fans? Red Sox? Bruins? Cause if not the Eagles family will accept you with open arms pvrisofficial: NEW ENGLAND/BOSTON ALL DAY BABY!

macauley7: Could u please ask harry styles if u could tour with him? I need a pvris x harry watermelon sugar vibes thanks pvrisofficial: I'll call him right now.

brisbubbles: Hey, Lynn! Can’t wait for Saturday! I was wondering, how do you feel about singing old tracks from WN since you relearned how to sing? What has that experience been like? Wishing you and Brian the best! xzlinx: I am wondering about this as well. Maybe I am just nosey but I wonder about the process of retraining your voice and what exactlt happened. It must have been insanely difficult on her mental health but goddamn what a trooper bc Use Me is unbelievable! pvrisofficial: Great questions!!! Singing WN is definitely a little challenging to begin with because I'm older and my tone isn't the tone of 19 year old me anymore haha. A big thing was anxiety which caused me to choke up a lot and tense my chords. Then when i was being coached, out of fear of damaging something we had to rebuild and start small and light which we think caused the chords/muscles to atrophy, which set it back further haha. I eventually went to another coach who then was able to take my "retrained" voice and then strengthen it up and rebuild it back to where it was before!

ImOnlyHalfAlive: Hey Lynn! First, I can't express just how much PVRIS has meant to me over the last couple of years. Your music has helped me through so much, and I will forever be grateful. My question is: What's a life mantra you've always lived by? pvrisofficial: Life mantra (theres a lot but this one I always connect to when it comes to career): Patience and persistence is key.

Okosano: Hi Lynn and greeting from Germany! The one and only important question here : Whats your favorite comfort food? pvrisofficial: Favorite comfort food...... Indian food! My absolute favorite.

Ok-Personality1480: What’s your favorite tea pls 🤠 pvrisofficial: Throat coat for singing, housemade chai for joy.

CookThePasta: Do you know the muffin man? pvrisofficial: yes

LynnGvnnFvn: What were the creative differences between writing an album like White Noise or AWKOHAWNOH and Use Me? pvrisofficial: Age, time, locations, different producers and collaborators!

unit525: How are the submissions for the meme competition looking? Any front runners emerging? pvrisofficial: It's a CLOSE call for a lot of them...

LynXiger: Which song from your discography is your least favourite and why? pvrisofficial: I wont say incase it is anyone's favorite!! hahaha

lgbtiffany: do you have a tendency to incorporate spirituality into your creative processes? love the album and can’t wait for the stream ✨❤️ pvrisofficial: I think creating is spiritual in itself! You're channeling sound and melody and MAGICCC! So yes!

vessed1: hiii. I’d love to know who found the White Noise mirror ☺️ pvrisofficial: Me too

LynXiger: What is your favourite genre to listen to? And how has this changed over time? pvrisofficial: I'm a big sucker for hip hop and pop... really anything that's catchy and hits hard and has cool production!

nicthehic: Hey Lynn! Been a huge fan for a long long time and took up doing music professionally because I was inspired by you and the rest of Pvris’ rise and work ethic. I was wondering if there was anything you would do differently while recording your first album and any advice to new ish band working on their first professional project (in the midst of covid no less) and any tips to make our first album just as great and timeless as white noise Thank you! pvrisofficial: Awww this is awesome! I'm sure you're gonna crush it! I definitely would have wanted to make the production a little different but keep a lot of the same fundamental aspects/textures. Do what YOU feel you want to create and dont feel any outside pressures. Crush it! Cant wait for you to record!

minidudette106: Hey Lynn, Do you ever think its crazy that people get tattoos of your lyrics & ones inspired by your music? also wondering what your thoughts are on pineapple on pizza? lol pvrisofficial: I used to get freaked out bc I didnt think my lyrics were great but now I think its so cool! haha.

Hot-Lime3627: Hi Lynn, how is Opal and the other cat whom you took care of during quarantaine doing ? pvrisofficial: They are back with their owner! I truly miss them every single day... they were my little fluffy pals.

kelcea244: How do you keep your creative muscle flexed so you’re ready to create? And do you create every day? EDIT: Also really sad you guys weren’t able to make it over to the UK this month! We’ll be so psyched for you when you do come! pvrisofficial: We are sad too!!! We can't wait to get back whenever it is safe to play shows there. I miss it every day! I try to create every day even if it's just 5-10 minutes, always good to keep those muscles flexed!

socksgrowonbushes: first of all i just want to say how much i admire you, you’re amazing :) my question is what is your favourite song you have ever written? is it one that’s on an album? one that hasn’t even been released? i’m curious pvrisofficial: Use Me!

LadyEpicenter25: What the significance of playing in Arizona?! pvrisofficial: Resources to make the stream happen and rehearsals happen :)

bitchesonthephone: I have one question and one question only: When will we get Let’s Go Vertigo? pvrisofficial: NEVERRRRRR

Antique_Performer_45: Hi Lynn! I’ve been a big fan of PVRIS for a few years now. Which song from Use Me was your favorite to write? I love you guys! pvrisofficial: Use Me! or Good To Be Alive!

JadeAdelaideee: Hello!!! You’ve been a huge help with me realising I was gay, is there anyone who you would look up to when you were younger who sort of helped ease that journey? 💕✨ pvrisofficial: tbh i didnt have many. It was the scattered bits of magical gay representation on teen tv shows like Degrassi/Skins etc. haha

brandonjback: what song are you most proud of from AWKOHAWNOH? pvrisofficial: Anyone Else and NOLA 1!

DixieF: A question I've been waiting ages to ask. Why are you guys so awesome? pvrisofficial: We got awesome parents!!!

Emmahumphrees: Out of all yours songs what is your favourite lyric?? pvrisofficial: "On the porch the ceiling's painted baby blue dressed to the nines just like the sky in early afternoon 'cause it's midnight and the ghosts might be coming soon" Its a reference to a New Orleans superstition that the baby blue porch ceiling would ward off spirits in the night to trick them that it was the daytime sky.

lgbtiffany: what was the most difficult part of trying to regain your voice when you were having troubles with it? pvrisofficial: Definitely just getting on stage every night knowing it wasn't working and having to pretend it was... haha. Super embarrassing.

cnnrtower: Hi Lynn! MA fan here who first saw PVRIS open for A Skylit Drive at the Palladium in 2013. Super incredible to watch the journey for the band / yourself as an artist! What was the first gig/experience that made you stop and realize that PVRIS was going places? pvrisofficial: one of our first headline shows in CT back in 2015. Show was crazy!!

KimLC24: I was just wondering how you get your inspiration to do your art and music? because it can sometimes be hard to even get motivated let alone create pvrisofficial: Totally relate and understand! I won’t lie, the older I get, the more I need to hype myself up and set a tone to create, especially when there’s so much music swirling around us at all times (the internet/streaming/etc). I almost always have a moody or dreamy movie/show playing on my ipad next to me while I work so that way there’s an inspiring visual going.

deadweighttttt: Hi Lynn!!! What’s your all time favourite lyric from the album?! pvrisofficial: HII!! "Do you even notice how easy you've got this? Taking wings off a goddess if I'm being honest"

Pvffreis: Hi Lynn, I have no idea how to use this/reddit but great to see you here! Hope you're doing good? <3 Update: I figured out how to edit comments ayyy I just signed up to ask you this very important question: Red or green apples? pvrisofficial: Idk how either but I think I got it!! Red apples! W PB

dancingonslowsand: Hi Lynn!! Been following PVRIS for a while and I’ve loved seeing how your sound has evolved over the years. Do you have any idea of what direction you want the band to go in the future? Or are you just riding the wave and seeing what happens? Also what’s your fav bird pvrisofficial: Thanks so much! I definitely plan to just keep riding the wave… I feel like every album leaves some room for the direction to go anywhere so the next chapter never feels too restricted. I have been feeling pretty hyped and high energy lately so I feel like it may reflect that a bit! Fav bird is… PENGUINS (even though people debate that they are mammals.)

pvrisofficial: Okay my friends, I gotta head out and get to rehearsals! This was so much fun, sorry I couldn't get to every Q. Love yall! See you guys so soon! <3

November 18th, 2020

[peterbishop]

hi emma!! what are your tww thoughts? like otps, headcanons, favorite episodes or arcs, fave characters? tell me anything! i love your blog and this show is amazing so i just love talking to people about it- feel free to rant about anything tww related!

hi! thank u sm for enjoying my blog haha. i really do have a lot of thoughts so let’s get into this

my favorite character is josh. which i feel like is so predictable knowing myself. my inner monologue really is: oh look at this semi-attractive main character who is kinda an asshole i must love him. i love how biting and brutal he can be but then he can be an absolute softie (when he gets donna that xmas gift in 1x10 hello????) also he’s from connecticut like me and that’s what i call #solidarity 

also josh in the entirety of the supremes um yes feminist icon get the first female chief of justice elected

and can we give a special shout out to how jacked josh is despite those ugly suits they put him in. 

broke: sam seaborn is hot

woke: josh lyman is hot

my favorite character after him is such a toss up. it’s either cj or bartlet or donna. really depends on the day. all the main characters are so good it’s pretty impossible to choose

favorite episodes (bear in mind i’ve only seen the show all the way through once): noël, in the shadow of two gunmen, the supremes, celestial navigation, 17 people, literally most of season 2, 20 hours in america, game on.

hands down my favorite episode is noël. we love a josh-centric episode

bradley whitford did not have to go off so hard but he did!!!! emmy winning king!!!! also his acceptance speech is too cute

favorite arcs: everyone finding about MS (that string of 5-6 episodes might be the most solid string of tv episodes ever), the santos campaign (especially in s7 once donna was there), and for the dramatiqueness of it all, gaza

this isn’t an arc, but i love it whenever the characters get fired up about gun control

the best scene of the entire show might be when josh and toby lose their actual minds over daylight savings 

there are a couple ships on the show that i find cute (jed/abbey, zoey/charlie, perhaps even sam/ainsley), but THE otp and one of the key reasons i started the show, is, of course, josh and donna

i fucking love slow burn. most of my favorite ships are slow burn. i like it when it takes, 5, 6, 7 seasons for a couple to get together. i am far more entertained. and that was josh and donna!!!!!

(even though they should have gotten together after gaza. maybe even after jed’s reelection. i think i just wish sorkin wrote them because i feel like he would have given us a wedding ep)

but anyways!!!!!!! i love their dynamic and how they push each other and make each other better people (mostly josh growing from knowing donna). their first kiss is iconic as hell 

also their kiss(es) in transition fuck. janel and brad’s sexual chemistry did that

there are just too many good josh/donna moments: every time she ties his bowtie (which janel said was basically a sex scene for them), josh telling embarrassing stories about donna and saying “those are nice stories. i’d like you if i heard them,” the entire snowball scene like did he really have to stop his train of thought just to tell her she looks beautiful, donna taking josh to the hospital at the end of noël, literally every single time they look at each other, IF YOU WERE IN AN ACCIDENT I WOULDN’T STOP FOR RED LIGHTS

the list goes on and on

as you can tell josh and donna take up 80% of my thoughts

ok headcanons let’s go

j/d basically moved in together after their trip to hawaii. in that one week, things that needed to be said were finally said and they said screw wasting any more time, let’s just be together and be happy

they get married the summer before the midterms in connecticut. they try to keep it small but when two presidents show up, it’s anything but

by year 3 of santos’ term, j/d have a little boy. seeing josh lyman brutally take down republican house members while an infant is strapped to his chest in a baby bjorn is a sight to behold

santos wins his reelection. donna and josh quit the white house and start a think tank. sam takes over from josh and donna finds an apt replacement for herself. helen and matt wish nothing but the best for the couple even though they’ll be sorely missed

the barlets love baby lyman and it gives j/d an excuse to escape to new hampshire every odd weekend. 

(when baby lyman was born, josh had his doubts as a father. jed pulled him to the side and said “i know you’ll be great. how do i know? because you’ve had great fathers like noah and leo”)

when baby lyman is 3, donna runs for congress. she easily wins, especially with cj and toby helping out behind the scenes. josh becomes a stay at home dad who gives the occasional lecture at georgetown. he couldn’t be happier. 

[foolgobi65]

Lois/Clark + travel au + fake dating + “are you sure this is legal?”

again, its kind of a fake marriage and...also again....this is kind of the set up for the fake marriage scenario? i basically used this as an opportunity to write down a bunch of my lois headcanons for a period after superman reveal but before the get together lmao but i hope you still like it!! thank you so much for sending the prompt, i love lois sm and this was i think the first time i’ve really written from her (or actually written out lois and clark lol) so everyone please send feedback re: lois and clark characterizations!!!!

love u to the moon and back!!!!

---

“Clark, what does legal really mean, other than the things our government arbitrarily decided we’re allowed to do?”

Next to her, Clark rolls his eyes and Lois tries not to show the awe that briefly floods her body when she remembers that Superman is Clark is Superman is Clark, which means that when he responds to her quip, it’s not only as Smallville but as Kal-El, who she once named ‘the Man of Tomorrow.’ 

“Nice to see Libertarian Lois make an appearance,” Clark-El quips, and Lois nearly melts. It’s been about a month since what she, agnosto-sympathetic as she’s always been, termed in her own mind as the Revelation. Clark is Superman is Clark, she reminds herself as she always has to, to keep herself from running in as many directions as she can, vainly trying to outrun the fastest man alive. 

Being, maybe. Because he’s not really a man, is he?

Clark, Lois thinks again. Clark Kent from Smallville, Kansas. Son of Martha. Man, man, man. Lois is no fool to think that he could really be anyone else -- Clark, for all that he’s apparently lied to her, couldn’t possibly have lied about this. Superman had always seemed so aloof, so removed from the daily grind of humanity’s issues: sure, he’s saved plenty of cats up trees, but Lois had always wondered if he understood why those cats were so beloved, or worse if he saw humanity as the perennial cat constantly stuck up in trees of its own making. But she hadn’t known Superman, really, hadn’t thought she would be able to. 

Not like she’d known Clark. Clark, of the long-form article following the production of a single plaid shirt he’d been wearing on Monday during the week’s pitch meeting. Clark, who was always falling into step right next to Lois no matter where she was, or who she was up against, his heart the only one that burned like Lois when confronted with the nastiness of the world. 

Clark, who Lois has always considered the most human man she ever met. Clark who is somehow biologically, the least human man in the universe.

“Lois?” Clark’s voice is just slightly strained as if he can hear the thoughts scurrying round and round Lois’s mind, but no Lois had asked about that during those first few terrifying days when up had seemed like down and she’d felt like the shittiest investigative reporter since Arnab Goswami. Clark couldn’t read minds, not really, he’d said -- he could at most see the neurons firing (and wasn’t that a horrifying thought?) but he hadn’t tried to figure out a pattern. 

“But I don’t watch your neurons,” he’d said with what then-Lois had recognized as a hint of human-Clark, who she later realized was just-Clark’s shit-eating grin. “Your mind makes me dizzy enough when I’m just observing from the outside. Can’t imagine what would happen if I was trying to follow your thought process in real-time.” 

Now-Lois shakes her head slightly, unattractive like a wet dog. “Sure it’s illegal to impersonate a pair of massage therapists, but you’re an extraterrestrial traveler, Clark. Do the mighty dictums of the United States really mean that much to you?” 

She knows almost as soon as the last half of the sentence leaves her lips that it’s the wrong thing to say. Clark’s from Kansas, just like he always said. He was raised in Kansas, with Kansas values whatever the hell that means. Christ, she thinks, she’s never been so insensitive to an adoptee in her life. 

A month ago, Clark’s face might have crumpled. Two weeks ago, he might have thrown Lois’s insensitivity right back in her face. Today, though, his eyes only go wide for a second, right before Lois sees them glint with what she can only label as sheer Clarkness. It’s a near cousin of his shit-eating grin, that’s for sure, and if it makes her heart race with a little anticipation that between her, the universe and, if he’s listening, Sup--

Shit. 

But maybe Clark isn’t listening, too focused on what he’s about to say, because he plows on despite her heart rate. “Lois,” he drawls, “I don’t ignore the dictates of the United States because I'm an alien.”  

Oh for fuckssake. “Clark now is not the time to crib off of your much cooler mom’s actual anarchist credentials. You can talk as much theory as you want, but you were the one who just asked if we should continue our pursuit of justice based on legality.” 

Clark scoffs. “Perry suspended us for two weeks, and on day two you called me up and asked if I wanted to go on a vacation.” 

Sometimes, Clark’s whole Clark-shtick makes it so that Lois can’t tell if he’s actually hurt, or if he’s just fucking with her emotions, the ones everyone told him she’d long shot dead and buried behind the house, for his own amusement. She squints, leaning in a little closer to check for his usual tells, and there! Just at the corner of his lip, a slight twitch, so minuscule that no one but Lois could have found it. 

“You asshole! You were bored too!” Lois crosses her arms. “C’mon, would you really have been happy with a normal cruise, just floating on the ocean and wearing Hawaiian shirts while eating shrimp, no care in the world?” She raises her eyebrows, grinning like she’s trying to sell Clark a tub of Crisco. “Isn’t taking down the Mob just so much more exciting?” 

According to her therapist, Lois was never really in love with Superman. Lois was in love with the idea Superman represented -- a good man, powerful without the corruption she saw infesting those with power every day, a man so far above humanity that he was safe from the trainwreck that was Lois’ interior self. He could never really love her back, so Lois was safe loving him, never had to worry about her job putting him in danger or her tongue slicing him up during an argument until there was nothing left but his torn up suit. 

Clark, though, Clark was very real, her therapist said. Says, though Lois hasn’t been responding to her calls since the Revelation. She doesn’t know how quite to say “hey Doc, remember how we’ve been talking on and on about Clark and Superman, and how I have to ‘give up my illusion of safety in order to take a real leap of faith?’ Well, do I have a doozy for you!”  

But anyway, the point her therapist was making was that Clark actually knows Lois, inside and out. Probably better than Lois knows herself, at this point, and he loves her for it anyway. Because he does love her, Lois knows. Just like Jimmy knows, and Perry, and Lucy, and hell the guy at her corner bodega too who thinks that “that nice plaid-shirt guy you’re seeing, who comes in to buy you a whole dozen maple donuts before he picks you up, he’s gonna pop the question any day now Miss Lane!” 

Clark has loved Lois for a long time but never told her because Lois has spent almost the entirety of their partnership pretending to love Superman, afraid of being judged wanting by the only person in the world who could actually make that judgment in the first place. Clark loves her now, but Lois’ parents loved each other too once, and that relationship ended with her mom being just a little grateful that the cancer was actually going to kill her so that she wouldn’t have to put up with the General anymore. Lois knows that Clark thinks she doesn’t love him, that he thinks her love for Superman died in the fire of knowing that Superman was actually her bumpkin friend Clark, but for once she’s too afraid to report the truth. 

The truth, that all those parts Lois’ mother hated in the General -- his stubbornness, his arrogance, his inability to see anything outside of the scope of his gun -- Mad-Dog Lane has too, probably in equal measure. Clark isn’t her mom, but he too is kind, and gentle. Soft sometimes, in ways that Lois can’t believe he manages when faced with the horrors of humanity twice over. He’s her best friend, her partner, but if they added another step to their weird dance wouldn’t it finally be too much? Clark has parents who love him, makes friends easier than Lois can breathe, but Lois has only Clark. Maybe Perry, but even then who knows -- Clark might get Perry in the divorce since he can actually spell. 

“Hmm?” Lois shakes herself again, finally seeing Clark’s hand wave in front of her face. “Sorry, Clark.” 

He laughs. “It’s fine Lois, I was just saying something you’d probably have liked to hear so it’s probably best that you didn’t.” 

Lois clicks her tongue, rounding on Clark. “Well if it’s that I was right about you being bored after an entire two days off, then I don’t need to hear it. I already know I’m right and that’s good enough for me.” 

Clark rolls his eyes. “One of the precious few times you are, since this idea of yours is all sorts of wrong. Beyond the legal thing, which I will remind you, is a matter of having a massage therapy license that neither of us has and as such, cannot in good faith offer massages as part of our jobs as massage therapists.” Funny that Clark seems to have no comment on the whole “fake marriage” part of Lois’ plan. 

Lois brushes off his concern with what she thinks is aplomb. “See that would have been a problem for the Lois-of-a-month-ago, but today-Lois knows something that you apparently haven’t thought about!” 

“Oh?”

Lois beckons Clark closer, and because he loves her, he humors her by leaning in close. “See,” she whispers into his ear, “Today-Lois knows that her partner Clark has super-vision, and can see all those pesky muscle groupings neither of us knows about. Just talk to me in a language we know but the client doesn’t, and we’ll be all good!” 

Clark chokes. “You want me to...use my powers to aid in our...subterfuge?” 

Lois raises an eyebrow. “Are you seriously telling me that you haven’t used them on a story before?” That would be very Clark-like of him, she supposes, but on the other hand, the Clark she knows would never not use a resource to help break a story. And, just like she thought--

“No,” Clark says, flushing beet red -- I made Superman blush! Lois thinks and tamps down -- “No I have, but just not so....” 

“Planned?” 

“No,” Clark admits, “it was definitely planned.” He laughs softly. “Honestly, I think it’s that no one else has ever planned to use my powers, at least not as Clark.” Superman, of course, helps build millions of homes and launches nuclear waste into space: there’re entire forums where top scientists compete to see which of their ideas Superman can help them fulfill. And here Lois is, asking him to use those same powers so that they can fake being massage therapists to coax out leads from horny couples with connections to the Mob. 

She bites her lip, insecure in only the way Superman and Clark have been able to make her feel. Just figures that they were the same person the whole time. “Is..,” Lois swallows, “Is that ok? That I planned it?” Her eyes widen, sudden panic suffusing her body. “Ohmygod Clark, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, or anything, I mean I definitely think your powers are cool but I love you for your mind first and fore--” 

Everything inside and out of Lois’s brain shuts off. Did she just--

Clark’s jaw drops, wild hope Lois doesn’t even think he realizes creeping into the corners of his eyes. “Did you just--” 

“I..” Lois’ brain is now entirely composed of those moments when your CD skips, no words, no feelings, just skips. 

And then, like the greatest gift and curse the Universe could possibly bestow at once, the Cruise Director’s door opens. “Hello,” she says, glancing down at the names on her clipboard and doing a double-take. “Bumpo and Geraldine McTungus?” 

[ultrakeystotheheartblog]

Not So Alone (Part 2) (Teen Titans x Reader)

Part 2 of 2

Request: Requested by multiple people.

“Uhm, your teen titans imagine was?? so great?? I would totally love a sequel omg (only if u want obv)”

“Omg please I just read the fic and want a sequel too so badddd you don’t have to if you don’t want to but I’d be super hype to see it and read and scream because the first parts great” - @laneygthememequeen

A/N: I’m back! I’m not dead! And I am definitely going to  write an update some time soon to explain everything that’s happened, but for right now I’m just gonna go ahead and say thank you again for all the positive comments and support that the first part received. I wasn’t expecting so many people to enjoy it, so I was over the moon at the response. With that said, I hope you all enjoy this part too ♥♥♥ 

(PS: This was the imagine that got the most votes, so the final part for my Jason Todd fic will be coming next! And, uh, It’s already turning out like a novel guys, prepare yourselves).

Warning: Swearing. Little bit of angst, but mostly a whole lot of fluff.

*********************************************************************************

You can’t help but feel that something is not quite right today.

Things are quiet.

Too quiet.

There’s no bouncing music or flashing video games, no arguing, no laughing, no daily echoes of training or disastrous calamities unfolding in the kitchen. No doting, friendly teammates to regale you with their presence (as what’s been the norm for the past few weeks while you’ve begrudgingly, slowly, began to heal from your injuries). No, the Tower is practically, for lack of a better or less ironic term, dead. And has been for most of the day—a husk of boredom and loneliness and one too many pieces of cold, leftover pizza. 

Not to mention that looming cloud that’s followed over your head, a suspicious kind of quiet that’s been pressing in all around you like a swarm of invisible hands, seeping into the very foundation of the room. It’s been keeping you teetering on the edge of a pinpoint for literal hours—your fight or flight response practically grinding its teeth in preparation for an inevitable...something. And all the while you sink further into the entertainment room’s monstrous, curved couch and try to focus on ‘relaxing’.

Ha.

You’d be more relaxed if you knew where everyone disappeared to.

But alas, you do not—no matter how much the urge to snoop is (and you so want to snoop), because that’s not what friends do. At least, you think it’s not. You have to admit, it’s been a long time since you’ve considered anyone a friend, but you’re trying. Trying to let go of the past. Trying to be vulnerable. To be good. To be open. And you very much find yourself liking all the ensuing, chaotic changes in your life recently. But you’re rusty and unsure, and always, always, waiting for some other shoe to drop.

You don’t want it to.

You really don’t want it to.

But sometimes you wonder if it would give you some sort of relief from all the waiting—if that metaphorical shoe just got it over with already and put its ugly, metaphorical foot down. So you could breathe without all this pinchy, backwards kind of guilt you’ve been storing up inside for years, waiting to finally punch out into the world like a nest of angry wasps. Like you should feel bad for wanting to be a part of something....something more. 

You’ve always hated just waiting for something to happen. But here you are now; alone, completely over-thinking the meaning of life, and left to stew in a concoction of sulky feelings that leaves you nauseous in a way you’ve worked so hard to forget.

So.

With your sore legs propped up onto the coffee table for comfort, you just continue to glare at the blank TV screen and watch your faded reflection in the shine of the glass, biting bitterly into the last of the pizza crust from the plate balanced in your lap.

ZuZu (as declared by Star the morning you’d first woken up—words tripping in a rush of excitement and a stream of breathless chatter about some sort of inspiration from an earth movie—while she gently sits the little creature into your lap with a ceremonious flourish of her arms) flops onto their belly to find a more comfortable position beside you. 

Their front legs tuck underneath their bulk, long, spiked tail curling around their body in looping circles, before they come to rest their head on your hip, staring intensely at the leftover crust between your fingers.

They’re about the size of a small dog, heavy and wide, with the hybrid body structure of some sort of lizard and a...well, a bear. Their face is coated in silky auburn fur, snout ridged and twitchy, large heavy-lidded, expressive pink eyes set deep in their sockets. The majority of their torso and back legs are scaled and shiny, while three stripes of that autumn colored fur zigzag down their back, their front legs thick and capped with massive fuzzy paws and hooked dark claws. But the most distinctive features are the large, pleated creases of skin which usually lay folded back against their head and neck. 

A frill, like you remember seeing once, adorning a lizard from some travelling petting zoo. It’s supported by long spines of cartilage connected to each side of their jaw bone, and when spread to encircle the entirety of their head, is lined in pink and filled with bright orange scales.

Beast Boy called it a ‘deimatic display’ that first day, a behavior or reaction of patterns and colors used like a defensive bluff—akin to beady eyes on the back of a moth’s wings or selective changes in the body pattern of a cuttlefish—manipulated to startle, display a warning, or distract predators. But it seems ZuZu is able to use it a bit differently—a slight alien twist to the reaction, which allows them to communicate solely through a language formed by varying flashes and multitudes of color. 

You’ve all been scrambling to figure out the meanings behind each display lately, trading yes or no questions with the creature at any given point throughout the day, before documenting any noticeable details in the Tower’s staggering, inexhaustible database. 

Red, you’ve found quickly, suggests that they’re annoyed, or angry, or generally, exceedingly, unhappy about something. Yellow, on the other hand, simply implies content in the most peaceful sense. And pink? That’s become their version of taunting—something smug and annoyingly self-assured, which seems to be their more….colourful version of resting bitch face.  

You grunt at the heavy weight of ZuZu’s head as it presses more firmly against bruised muscles and skin, hidden away beneath the cozy, cotton sweatpants you’d wrestled from the bottom of your closet. It doesn’t keep you from slipping deeper though, into the clouded memories shrouding that first dreamlike morning after finally waking.

Robin—grinning, more relaxed then you’d ever seen him, and already lying back in his spot beside you on the bed—had leaned over when Star finally took a moment to find her breath, voice dipping low as he casually filled in the most obvious, glaring blanks in her story. He explained how they’d come upon ZuZu while rushing you back to the tower for medical attention—left behind by their master, defensive and shaking, and hidden away beneath the burning hot rubble from unlucky buildings crushed during the Jump City attack.

You can vaguely recall those creatures and their part in the invasion, as you hold the curious, unwavering stare of your new housemate. You pinpoint a fuzzy recollection of hundreds of similar alien hybrids, large percents of them being used as cannon fodder against the city’s responding defense—some sort of attack dogs or bloodhounds originally breed for what seemed to be an unparalleled sense of incoming danger. And a lethal aptitude for sniffing out and marking targets, even in the most extreme of circumstances. All to make the invading attack’s that much more…. precise. 

Equally as shaken and heartbroken, both Starfire and Beast Boy insisted on giving little ZuZu a home, one without the need for cold masters and needless sacrifices.

Robin admitted that it took some convincing to get him to agree, but that he caved to them rather quickly, like the truly soft-hearted dork you know he is on the inside. The one, you’ve been noticing, that is no longer carefully tempered behind masks both metaphorical and literal (like those you’d learned to cultivate for yourself, to ensure your own survival among the flocks of good and evil in this world)—all veils of enigmatic charm and cool leadership, strategy and logic.

(While for just as long, you had mused, you refined your wall of sarcasm and teasing, and strained, plastic smiles. Even as fate saw it fit to laugh and thrust you into the role of cosmic punching bag in both a figurative and literal sense).

Because Robin is never really one to deny a safe haven to someone, especially an orphan, in need.

And it’s not too hard to understand why.

It’s one quality you’ve only caught glimpses of, before the attempted invasion and one too many near-death experiences changed everything.

Your once positive opinion on lizards.

Your practical, humanly limitations regarding the ability to eat your weight in cold, cheese pizza.

Your mostly cynical take on all the possible wonders of this life.

Your team and their conduct—their outreach of friendship, their measure of trust and willing openness towards you.

Your place among them.  Your.... the need for the permanence of those masks.

All while you’ve been learning to come to terms with this warm, slowly blossoming….strange feeling of finally belonging.

ZuZu shifts to find a different angle, and then they’re sliding their head further into your lap, situating themselves just underneath your hovering hand. Your sullen gaze darts down to examine them again in the cresting evening sunlight, their lithe body bathed in an orange light that softens the harsh lines and edges of bluish-green scales, until they’re all but glittering like some magnificent, stain-glass fish below rippling water. 

Shit, they’re so wonderfully unique, maybe too much so, for a world that tears down all that’s different in the name of fear (and this you know all too well). They’re intelligent and hardheaded, and kind of an absolute dick if you’re being honest. But you can’t help but feel close to the little creature, and hope, however possibly (awfully) misguided, that it’s at least somewhat mutual. After all, for all their rough edges and guarded, worldly acceptance, they were learning to fit in here—just like you.

The flash of a long, forked tongue startles you from your thoughts, and you catch sight of it in your peripheral, snapping out towards the piece of half-eaten crust in your hand before you can even process where it’s suddenly emerged from. You jerk away clumsily on reflex, letting the crust plummet back to the plate in your lap as you lean to the side, trying to avoid the persistent little alien. You hoist the plate up and out of their reach at a safer distance—though not without a twinge of pain that bursts like fireworks in your shoulders. 

You glare down at them in admonishment.

Well then.

Earlier sentiment revoked, actually.

ZuZu narrows their intensely bright eyes right back at you, their frill rising from their neck like the hackles of an angry dog. The trim pleats of skin folded there flutter in anticipation before finally sweeping open with the rippling, fluid grace of a hand-held folding fan. The pretty scales lining the exposed frill change colour almost instantly when they hit the open air, flaring a deep red when you stick your tongue out at ZuZu in an act of childish defiance. 

Yeah, someone’s no longer a happy camper now, are they? Well, join the club, pal.

You can’t always get what you want. Because no matter what you do, life just likes to screw you in the—

It takes a total of three, distracted seconds.

The offending tongue snaps out at an impossible length to hit the surface of the plate. It’s like some cartoon frog catching a fly that’s far enough out of reach to be considered natural, the appendage wrapping around one end of the half-bitten crust, before proudly reeling it back down into a waiting mouth. Their jaw snaps shut again with an audible click of teeth, and they swallow their prize whole and much too slowly, flashing you a fanged smile that gives you the creeps.

Or you do, you find yourself bitterly amending in the wake of defeat, especially when you’re a terrifying space gremlin with freakish mouth biology. Why are you even awake again today?

You sag into the couch cushions with an unexpected wave of soul-weary tiredness, a full body and mind exhaustion creeping upon the fringes of your being, though you’d been fighting it off rather successfully for most of the month. 

You lower the empty plate to sit on the surface of the coffee table—while grumbling under your breath about the reigning injustice of such snack-stealing gremlins in your midst—and lean even more precariously forward. Much farther than you normally would consider doing without others around, but you persist in you reach, getting a good grip on the propped up crutch you’ve left leaning against the table. 

You struggle to your feet then, deciding to leave the main living room to find something more productive to do (rather than wallowing and getting your food pilfered from beneath your slowly healing, broken nose). ZuZu watches you silently from their cozy napping spot, gaze tracking you as you begin to hobble around the couch on your way from the room. You toss a half-hearted, parting wave to Starfire’s first adopted friend—a chunky, gooey, mutant moth larvae dubbed little Silkie, snoring away beneath an open side table near the couch.

It’s good going, until something unexpected flutters down from the ceiling with the grace of falling snow—just as you’re about to cross the threshold into the hallway. Your gaze follows the swirling path of the shiny, red and black length of foil as it lands near your feet. A candy wrapper.

Huh.

Strange.

You pause in your journey and peer down at it for a moment, bewildered enough to take a full step back before finally looking up to retrace its fallen path.

And okay, so in hind sight, you kind of wish you hadn’t left the couch.

A single, suspiciously green, bat drops like a stone from the ceiling once it’s seen, swooping down over your head with a panicked flutter of leathery wings. You shout and unashamedly curse like a drunken sailor, ducking in surprise to further avoid the little needle talons that brush across the top of your head. Beast Boy turns human once he clears your form and hits the floor, once again completely, frustratingly, naked when he hops up to his feet. 

He tries to quickly console you, only to jump back in order to dodge the fear-driven swing of your crutch.

“Hey! It’s just me!!” He exclaims, hands held out towards you. You sling your cast over your eyes and wonder just how bad it would be if you bleached them clean of the searing, full-frontal image that lingers just behind them.

“WEAR PANTS.” You demand in alarm.

“They’re not comfortable!” He complains. Eyes still tightly shut, you shake your head and gesture wildly at him, throwing out your plaster covered arm to wave it around in loose, frantic circles. “PANTS!” You insist in a higher voice. “Fine!”

He mutters something else, low and displeased under his breath, and then goes to dig out a familiar non-descript bag you’re used to finding at random—usually full of extra clothes and stashed around the tower, or other frequent hangout places around the city—hidden away within the grassy, potted plant next to you both. You choose to ignore the obvious sass he’s exuding in protest, cracking open an eye just a bit to make sure he’s following through. 

He smoothly tugs his purple and black uniform free from the depths of the shiny leaves, wrangling on the bottom half with a pout as quickly as he can, and before you know it, he’s already shrugging the fabric up over his narrow shoulders.

(Though to your satisfaction he’s careful of the stitches still lining his spine). You sigh in relief, “Just—oh my god, what were even you doing up there in the first place?!”

Beast Boy works his mouth in silence as though he can’t find the right words to explain at the moment, bottom canines glinting as he squints up through the fluorescent lights and tosses the empty bag to rest beside the plant. He seems to be thinking hard about his answer (you hope), his gaze dropping to you after a few seconds of awkward, disbelieving silence. He shrugs, apparently deciding it’s appropriate to simply respond with a pair of finger-guns and a strained grin. “....hanging around?”

…..

You think you’re starting to miss those dragon-tailed, sumo alien’s from space-hell.

Your shoulders slump as the pent up energy from your frustration and sudden scare seeps from your body all at once. You groan, lifting your crutch up to point at him, the tip barely brushing against his chest. “You’re dead to me.” You proclaim lightly. Beast Boy rolls his eyes, and after securing the clasp on the back of his suit with a small chuckle, reaches out to gently lower the makeshift weapon. “Oh, come on—”

You don’t wait for him to finish, moving to hobble around him and retreat to your room. You shouldn’t have gotten up today. Nope. Call it a bad feeling. Something is going on around here and you are getting the hell out while you can. He slides into your path immediately, cutting of your escape with a smooth glide across the hardwood flooring. You narrow your eyes, shuffling to move around him again. He meets you like before, lunging closer still with each attempt to counteract your movements. You huff and stare him down, feeling like a Spanish bull in the ring, ready to charge the moment you see an opening. “BB, move.” You warn lowly.  

He throws out his arms to either side of him, blocking your way when you take a threatening step forward. “Can’t do that.” He chirps, puffing out his chest to seem more confident in his current position, while beginning to look as though he’s starting to regret his life’s choices, what with the way you’re gaze is cutting into his very soul. (Positively icy. You’d practiced that, rest in peace).

But he doesn’t move.

You frown and glare at him suspiciously, forcing your heavy limbs to cooperate with you for a moment. You take a step to the right, and as expected Beast Boy mirrors your movement, but your body isn’t as fast as you remember it. And he knows it. You careen to the left to try and complete your fake-out, but Beast Boy anticipates the slow sway of your body, following the uneven momentum like a puppet on strings to block your way yet again.

 He reaches out to steady you when you wobble, legs shaking with the sudden quick strain on your knees, and you wince at the flair of pain. Crappy broken body. You shake him off angrily, more upset at yourself then at him, and strike your crutch against the floor with a wave of strength (propelled simply by the heated frustration you feel festering in your chest like icky, wriggling worms). “Beast Bo—Gar, I’m serious.” You hiss in annoyance, ignoring the ricocheting twinge of pain that shoots up into your shoulder at the action.

“Believe it or not, so am I!” He defends, hands flying to his hips.

“Debatable.” You snap back.

“Rude.”

“Twenty bucks on (Y/N).” A new, deeper voice declares with obvious amusement. You spin to face the living room again, Beast Boy peeking around you to get a better view. Cyborg and Starfire are standing before you, having appeared out of thin air and quiet as can be, the latter of the duo looking as though she could just burst with excitement. More than usual. Cyborg’s gaze cuts to you when he notices the way you’re staring at her in confusion, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently to sooth the absurd tremble of her body. 

Okay. Double suspicious. 

They’re dressed in casual clothes; Starfire in high-waisted, purple shorts and a stylish pink sweater that hangs off her shoulders, her wild red hair tied back into a ponytail and her feet bare, smile wide. Cyborg is donned in sweatpants and an old blue and yellow football jersey you think might have seen better days once, newly buffered limbs gleaming under the lights. Beast Boy pursues his lips and squints up at his friend when he catches sight of the teasing smirk Cyborg trains on him.  

“Thanks, dude.” He responds as sarcastically as he can. Starfire spins to face Cyborg with glee, hands clasped in front of her.

“Friend Victor, I too wish to attribute money to the outcome of this argument.” She reveals enthusiastically, leaving you to trade an exhausted look with Beast Boy at the spiraling situation. Cyborg’s grin grows larger, and he winks at you both before giving Starfire his undivided attention.

“Okay.” He relents, staring down at her curiously. “Bettin’ on (Y/N) then?”

Starfire pauses, nose crinkling as she considers the question. “Can I not take part of the betting for both?”

“No, Star, it doesn’t really—” Cyborg begins, sighing with reluctance when she only continues to look up at him expectantly. “You know what? Sure.” He amends with a shrug, rubbing at the back of his head. Starfire claps her hands excitedly and laughs, her feet lifting from the floor in her in a rush of elation.

“Glorious!” She exclaims. You almost miss it when Cyborg turns away from her, but you’re able to barely catch the sly way she throws a wink at you too, the quick gesture leaving you reeling in amusement.

Oh shit, what a hero.

You can definitely appreciate a good swindle win you see one. And that was great.

You slump against your crutch and chuckle tiredly, massaging your forehead with the tips of the fingers peeking stiffly from your cast, before raising your arm up to draw their attention.

“Alright, seriously, what’s going on with you guys today? Where’ve you all been? Some secret club within our secret club?” You question fervently, on a  new mission as you hobble closer towards them. “I have to admit, I’m kind of offended if that’s the case.”

“Oh, you know, out.” Cyborg says much too casually and unhelpfully for your liking, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats. Simultaneously, Starfire responds much too quickly.

“In my room!” She declares loudly, unable to stop herself from flinching at the sharp, wide-eyed look Cyborg cuts her. She mouths an apology at him and flashes you a sheepish smile, tapping the tips of her index fingers together.

Oh, something is definitely going on. Not on my watch, secret keepers of the crypt.

You squint at them, “Sure. I’ll believe that. But why do I suddenly have a five-foot-furry shadow? One who doesn’t seem to know the concept of the word shame?”

Beast Boy gasps as though he’s never been so insulted in his young life (okay, so you may have possibly taken it a little too far that time. But in your defense, there’s a lot of stressful things going on right now, and the bat thing may have thrown you a little too far over the edge), scurrying around you to passionately wave a random, uh, peace sign in front of your face.

Wait, what?

“Five-foot-two.” He stresses firmly, wiggling both fingers for emphasis. You lean your weight on the single crutch keeping you gloriously upright, reaching out to tug his hand down with a groan.

“So not the point, batboy.”

“Hey! Bats are cool!”

“Ha! You know what else is cool?” You question sarcastically, nestling your casted arm against your chest as you lean forward to regard him with an arched eyebrow. “Not scaring the living shit of a person who’s already legally died twice from heart failure.”

Beast Boy concedes to your logic with a grimace, no doubt fighting off a burst of vivid memory on the subject.

“Point taken.” He agrees.

Cyborg pads over to you with a muffled laugh, giving your upper back a hearty, friendly slap that propels you forward a few steps. “Aw, B.B.’s just doing his job. Lighten up, (Y/N/N).”

You stumble with a strangled sound and work to regain your balance yourself through burning muscles, gripping the handle and uprights of the crutch as tightly as you can. You always forget how strong he is. And sometimes, though not often, so does he. Cyborg winces, flexing his fingers while he graces you with an apologetic smile. You raise an eyebrow at him; eyes locked intently on his face, as though you could simply reach into his mind and know all with a simple blink, and subtly tilt your head towards Beast Boy.

"And that means I can't leave one single room?"

"It was more to keep you busy." Cyborg admits with a grin that makes you all too nervous.  

Okay, red flag. Were you sweating? You might be sweating. They weren’t the…vengeful type, right? It’s not really your fault you tend to stress eat. Though….

"What are you all planning?" You ask again, unconsciously scanning the corners of room behind them for your two missing team members. Why do you feel like you’re about to be ambushed? Starfire hops forward like she’s stepping on air, looping her arm through yours and shaking it gently as she leans into you. Then she begins to drag you forward the smallest bit.

"Something wonderful!” She responds in that giddy way of hers, green eyes simmering with something impassioned and restless when they focus on your dumbfounded expression—fire brimming from her touch and her very being. She leans in closer and continues in a secretive whisper, which you think was meant to be soothing at some point between her thought process and strange execution. “But you must come to the roof to see it, my friend."

The….roof?

What’s so special about the fucking—

Oh.

….

Sonuvabitch.

To be completely honest, you knew it would somehow end like this. Betrayed by a moment of weakness and reduced to seething shame and broken trust, only to be real-life ghosted and then unceremoniously Mufasa-ed by your own team. A dramatic, imminent doom of Disney proportions. Ugh, what an embarrassing way to go. You really shouldn’t have gotten out of bed this morning like some normal, model citizen with an inane urge to contribute to society. What an idiot.

Still….maybe you’re just being a little over-dramatic here. Heroes usually have non-murdery morals, don’t they? Which is a big step up from your last group of…yeah….they weren’t even close to friends. Still, you can never be too careful these days. Right? Right.

You pull back from Starfire, trying to sound teasing as you respond, while barreling through your baseless internal panic and sprinkle of sugar-riddled guilt. How do you always get yourself into these messes?

"Is this the part where you throw me from the top? For finishing off the leftover cake without telling anyone?"

Beast Boy’s jaw drops.

"That was you?!"

Of course it was.

You laugh nervously and much too awkwardly to be convincing while you scramble to backtrack, "What?! Of course not!"

It was so good.

Starfire looks kind of horrified at your earlier insinuation about the roof, and she pulls away from you completely, eyes wide and unbelieving. She gasps, "We would never!"

Cyborg’s eyebrow shoots up as he studies your reaction. He frowns, lifting a hand to rub at his chin with an exaggerated sweep of his arm—as though he’s taking a moment to think more deeply about the matter—his metal fingers clunk-ing in the blanketing silence when they meet the thick, metal plate covering it. He sounds playful when he speaks up, and you know he’s not taking the news as hard as Gar currently is. 

"Well, now you've given me a lot to think about." He says slowly, amusement thick in his voice and vibrantly pulsing beneath his already crumbling, disappointed façade.

You wonder when it was exactly—when you’d unconsciously began to find his eagerly outspoken and protective spirit, his overly intense and personal pride (in all manners of technological tinkering and projects), and awful, awful acting, somewhat endearing. Maybe it was around the same time you’d grown rather fond of Beast Boy’s organic simplicity with life or perfectly-timed wit, his endearing, steadfast spirit and dorky, down-to-earth charm (though you would deny any accusation that says otherwise, pretending to find his endless stream of puns nothing but annoying). 

Or Starfire’s unfathomable warmth and, mostly smothering, overzealous passion in all things, no matter how small—a burning, extraterrestrial sun with a warrior’s soul and an open heart. Or Raven’s sarcastic calm and quiet disposition, a hopeful kind of darkness—as encompassing as it mystifying—which brings peace in ways one wouldn’t expect or think they needed. 

Or Robin. Noble and kind, brooding, insufferably stubborn, Robin—with an annoying competitive streak that rivals even you. Your outwardly, fearless friend and leader, a little birdie who keeps you from slipping back into your cold, old ways while still wanting to be a part of something better. To be a Titan. Time and time again. And—

Ah, fuck. You’ve gotten so sappy lately.

Near death experiences are the worst.

You roll your eyes at Cyborg, regardless of that grating, growing itch of sentimentality crawling up from your chest and into your throat like a rock, all the while fighting down the upwards twitch your lips.

"Oh, shut up.” You mutter, ducking your head so he won’t see as you move to hobble past the group back into the centre of the living room. “Even though I'm at my weakest right now, it doesn't mean I won't fight you."

Cyborg drops his arm and laughs, "I don't doubt it."

Beast Boy ducks around him; sparing no time as he shrinks down to the form of a chattering, green squirrel. Without breaking stride, he dashes towards your slowing figure, leaping forward to scale the rungs of your crutch. 

You jump at the sudden weight and list sideways, the vibration of his hurried ascent and the clattering of his nails against metal throwing you out of your concentrated state. You lean back too fast in surprise, catching the back of the couch with the underside of your cast to keep yourself somewhat upright, and wait with a raised brow as he moves to pull himself up onto the crutch pad at the top.

"Besides, you proved you’re anything but weak when you kicked Death’s ass! Multiple times.” He chirps proudly, settling back onto his little hind legs to stare up at you, bushy tail twitching and dark eyes round and glinting when they catch the light. “You're a survivor. Always have been.”

You grin, feeling satisfied that he finally seems to be more…relaxed about your injuries now (as opposed to the annoying, but much appreciated, panicked mother-henning you’d experienced throughout the first few weeks back on your feet). You have a sneaking suspicion Cyborg had a hand in this recent development—bless his beautiful, understanding soul—and you make a mental note to treat him to a pizza night soon. Or just hug him really, really tight in relief.

You heft your cast from the couch to hold out two fingers towards Beast Boy.

"And always will be." You agree. He reaches out with a shrill, happy squeak, tapping a front paw against them in a painfully adorable semblance of a high-five. Starfire joins you by the couch and lays her hand against your upper back, right between your shoulder blades, the swelling heat of it soothing the ache and strain of your poor muscles. Her gentle touch slides up, mindful of the bruises still splattered like patchwork across your skin, until you feel her lightly squeeze your shoulder.

"Very much like the warriors of old from my planet." She tells you softly, a smile pulling at her lips when your eyes dart up to look at her. It’s then you realize that all three of them are now looking at you rather expectantly, attention solely trained on your face as the room falls into an eager kind of silence. One that is quick to twist your abdomen into fluttering, nervous knots. 

Right, you think with a start, there was something about the roof—something they wanted me to see. You hesitate (is it getting hot in here, or is that just you self-combusting?), gaze jumping to each of your friends in turn. They continue to stare you down with purpose, waiting for your consent to be dazzled and thoroughly surprised, before you catch the barest hint of movement in your peripheral vision. You glance down at the back of the couch, wanting to scream your frustration to the sky, when you take in the wide, furry face peering back up at you.

Oh, not you too, ZuZu. You traitor.

She locks those intelligent eyes on you. He glowing pink gaze is intent and reprimanding, and god, you’re actually—silently, awkwardly—getting told off by an adorable lizard-themed care bear, who hails from the far reaches of infinity and beyond the known galaxy. What has your life come too? And the worst part is you don’t think you’re strong enough to—oh, goddamit. Peer pressure is a bitch.

"Alright.” You relent with a groan, throwing ZuZu a pointed, disgruntled look (which she simply counters with a glowing pink frill and mischievous wink, a move that has you breathing deeply to avoid just chucking your crutch across the room in defiance of it all). You turn to gesture at the others, “Fine. Let's get this show on the road then."

Beast Boy leaps down from the top of the crutch before you’ve even finished talking, his tiny shape shifting into the much larger form of a tiger once he touches down (more gracefully than you’d expected him to). He gives a little throaty growl in excitement, circling in place to get his bearings. And then with a sudden focus that makes you laugh, he’s bounding in a rush to slink between Cyborg and Starfire—his gaze already intensely trained down the hallway that leads towards the elevator.

"Sweet! Now you’re talking!" He exclaims with a swish of his tail, pausing only for a moment to throw a look back at Cyborg, the familiar imitation of a fanged grin even more terrifying with larger, sharper teeth on display. "Dibs on the donuts!"

Uh, donuts??

Cyborg groans and scrubs a hand over his face, stepping forward with his other hand outstretched, as if he could keep his excited friend from moving with just sheer force of will. "No! You don't get to just—Gar!"

Starfire tilts her head and watches until Beast Boy disappears around the curve of the hallway, "You have to admire his will power up until this moment." She points out, reaching out to brush a soothing touch to Cyborg’s shoulder.

He gives her a solemn nod in agreement. "...true." "Hi, yeah, still confused." You slowly iterate, when it’s clear they’re going to say nothing more on the manner, and looking hilariously haunted, just stare out into the middle distance like some kind of dramatic dork-asses. You can’t help it though—you want answers. You’ve been officially intrigued (donuts are always a good sign and nothing will convince you otherwise) and that cat-damning curiosity in you can never be quieted for long, so help you.

“Are we still going to the roof?”

Cyborg is the first to shake himself to attention, and he swings around to look at you with a knowing grin that tells you’re probably about to regret opening your mouth again. Probably. You guess?

…..

Okay, so you might be already exhausted enough now, with all this moving about and floundering, moral turmoil, to deal with any mysterious roof meetings and their possible consequences—and there’s no truly hiding it, or just burying it away for future you to worry about come morning (damn, why is past you always such a dick?).

Which leaves you decidedly awash in a ‘My mind is an emotional dumpster fire and all I want is to hibernate for forty years’ kind of way, unable to completely distinguish the nuances of your feelings on anything happening within a 10 foot radius. 

Especially since you’d….broken that quiet morning after the attack, finally reconciling with a screeching realization you’d been pushing back for years—even with all that damaged purpose, all that strength and determination and precious time you’d flooded into looking after yourself and only you, instead of worrying about others and how they might screw with you this time, you’d left yourself open anyway. Unwillingly, accidently, raw—like an exposed nerve adrift in the cosmos and crying out for relief.

Someone in power must have had mercy on you at last though, because you have friends. Good friends who are good people. And you love them in your own rough-around-the-edges way (is that the right word here? Love? You hope that’s the right word—it feels like the right word); but there’s no chance you’re ever going to tell any of them that. It’s become too embarrassing to even think about in your own mind, let alone out loud where they could actually...hear you.

But you’re not going to let all your personal baggage stop you now. Not while there’s the promise of donuts anyway.

Yeah, your priorities might need a little sorting out.

"Come on." Cyborg says, already treading backwards in the direction Beast Boy had gone. Starfire zips past you with ease, cutting around the corner like a fish would dart through deep water.

Her laugh echoes through the hall as she vanishes from sight, "Oh, this is going to be such a joyous occasion!"

Cyborg takes his time to snicker at the nervous grimace on your face. But you valiantly choose to be the bigger person here (no matter how much you want to knock your head against the nearest wall and see if your middle finger still works within the stiffness of a cast), simply rolling your eyes as you hobble to catch up to him around the bend in the hallway. He slows his pace without a word until you’re following closely at his side.

“So why aren’t we taking the elevator?” You inquire, watching as the thick metal doors slide past in your peripheral. It’s then you spot the other two loitering around by the door to the stairs.

The plot thickens.

Cyborg struggles to squash his playful grin, “Occupied.”

“By...”

“A second surprise. Now come on.” He diverts smoothly, waving his hand over the sensor for the door once Beast Boy and Starfire step away to make room for you both. It slides open from left to right with a mechanical hiss, and you peer in to the brightly lit stairwell with a raised brow. The glaring, white fluorescent lights are already giving you a headache.

“How do you expect me to get up the stairs?”

“Easy.”

“Oh, really? Easy? What are you even—”

The world shifts like a seesaw in your vision and you can barely comprehend the next few seconds: the way Cyborg stoops low enough to knock out the backs of your knees, the simultaneous rush of weightlessness—a fluttering, dizzying drop in your stomach that stalls the very breath in your chest—or even the jumbled burst of restrained laughter and disapproving click of a tongue which dissipates almost as soon as it starts. 

And you tip backwards into his arms with flailing limbs and a startled yelp as you’re gently scooped up, hanging shocked and boneless until he swings you up to cling onto his back like some sort of panicked koala. Cyborg laughs more boisterously as you lose your crutch in the commotion, grip loosening in your surprise until it slips entirely from your hold and vanishes from reach, the telltale clattering of metal against ground echoing from somewhere off to the side.

“—goddammit, Vic!” You gasp when the world stands still again, sucking in air for your breathless lungs. “A little warning!”

He simply cups the back of your knees and holds your legs tightly over the ridged, triangular slab of metal casing his hips, slowly straightening to his full, giant height again. It gives you a moment to throw your arms around his neck for safety and squeeze with all your reprimanding might. Cyborg turns to look at you with a teasing smirk you’re all too familiar with, before stepping further into the doorway.

“Comfortable there, Grumpy?”

“You’re the worst.” You announce without any real bite, leaning back to scan the floor for your missing crutch. It doesn’t take you long to realize that Starfire has already rescued it, hugging the dented metal pole to her chest with a look of determination. She catches your relieved gaze over Cyborg’s shoulder and nods as if reassuring you that she’s got everything handled now, gently patting the cushioned padding at the top of the crutch.

And then her eyes eagerly snap to Cyborg.

You can’t see his face from your vantage point, but you think he’s relaying permission with the way he tilts his head towards the stairs. Both Starfire and Beast Boy rocket forward in any case, barely sidestepping around you in their race up the first flight of stairs. Cyborg follows them without hesitation, and you can hardly wait another moment once your little group hurriedly passes the third floor, before the mystery of the roof becomes too intriguing to avoid any longer.

“So...are Rob and Raven in on this too?” You carefully begin, speaking to no one in particular but hoping someone might answer you anyway. “Cause they've been more mysterious than usual.”

"Grumpy and observant. You know…you'd make a pretty awesome detective too—give Dick some healthy competition around here." Cyborg returns in an innocent manner, which you know for a fact is bullshit. So you lamely thump a fist against the point between the heavy, metal plating circling his neck before it tapers down into his chest, and grumble your displeasure.

"Annnd you're dodging my questions, big guy. Again."

Cyborg says nothing this time and simply uses the firm hold he has under your knees to toss you up a few inches, jostling you free from your comfortable koala cling as though he`s trying to readjust your position. Only you know that’s not what he intended at all—evidenced by the irritating way he starts to laugh while you groan at him and shimmy urgently at his back, trying to right yourself from the haphazard tilt you’d landed in.

"Ugh! I miss being able to walk up a flight of stairs like a normal person!" You whine, bonking your forehead against the smooth, climate-controlled casing covering the back of his head, the vibrations of his full-body laughter rattling straight through you.

Beast Boy goes still ahead of the group, front paw hovering above the next step up. That unsettling tiger grin as he turns to regard you is the only warning you get before the inevitable.

"Eh, I wouldn’t trust these stairs though,” Beast Boy drawls with terrifying purpose, “They always seem like they're…up to something."

Starfire pipes up from her place hovering beside you and Cyborg in perfect comedic timing, her eyes narrowed in contemplation.

"Well yes, up to the roof—oh...that was..."

Yeah, Kori. Damn.

He waits in the ensuing, hollow silence of the stairwell for a reaction, gaze expectantly darting from person to person until you don’t know whether to laugh or just get mad.

....both?

Alright, okay, here’s the thing.

Though you may have...secretly....begun to appreciate Garfield’s endless arsenal of jokes and puns as much as that next person (you’ve got a reputation to uphold after all), that....was not so good. 

You’d face palm if you had complete confidence in your upper body strength as of late, but you definitely do not—especially after that embarrassingly sad attempt to escape to your room earlier (feat. the interference of your awkwardly unexpected, five foot-two bodyguard). And you’d very much like to keep securely clinging for your life atop mount ‘Victory’ Stone instead, rather than somehow (ridiculously) finding some way to slip from his back and fall to a more permanent death down the tower’s two-hundred stairway to hell.

So, you’ll just lock away this existential breakdown for another day and move on. Be the bigger person here, again.

....

Or.

"I think I'm starting to miss the coma." You deadpan with unabashed pettiness (because you’d actually had to listen to that with your own two ears), refusing to give him even the slightest satisfaction of a job well done.

Step up your game, Gar.

You can pinpoint the exact moment Cyborg winces with regret for his friend—his chin dipping down, the glowing blue machinery encasing half his skull whirring with a soft, discomforting humming like he’s finally reduced to just screaming on the inside.

"Oof,” He eventually adds through a long exhale. “I've heard better stuff from you, man."

Beast Boy sniffs in displeasure at your less than positive reactions, "Yo, give me a break; I'm still getting over the pizza thing."

You heft your body up straight to stare him dead in the eyes and lift your unbroken arm, wiggling your fingers over Cyborg’s head in a teasing way. "Let it haunt you for the rest of your daaaays~"

You don’t think you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing a hulking, green, murder cat roll its eyes so hard before. But there it is—in all its uncanny, cartoon-like glory. Beast Boy shakes his heavy head and resumes slinking up the stairs, leaving the rest of you to catch up while he throws another line over his shoulder, in a way you know is meant to be a playful declaration of war.

"Which reminds me...” He purrs slyly, “….what did the ghost say when it arrived at the party?"

Starfire taps at her chin in thought, "Ummm hello?”

Beast Boy’s enthusiasm swells with her genuine attempt, and he turns to coax his best friend into answering as well.

"Not quite. Come on, Cy, this is all you dude."

"Can I get a—"

"Victor don't you dare!"

Cyborg merely hums at your desperate interjection, "Uh-oh full name. That's never a good sign."

"Oh!” Starfire’s expression lights up in a way you’re entirely used to by now, and she leaves your side on the flutter of a giddy laugh, hovering quick up the next few steps. She smiles down at Beast Boy once she reaches him, titling her head as he looks up at her with an animated flick of his tail.

“I believe I know this one. May I?" She quietly gushes, twirling to lounge back gracefully in the air beside him. His head bobs once, long and slow, still flashing that sharp grin.

"Dazzle me, Star."

"Can I get the Boo-ya!!?"

"HA! Yeah, that’s wassup!"

You thunk your head against Cyborg’s shoulder this time, wincing at the brief pulse of pain from pounding metal against skull. "Oh my god, are we there yet?"

"As a matter of fact..." Cyborg mysteriously trails off, hopping up the last step to the top landing of the stairway. You peek up in interest and immediately want a better look when you see that the access to the roof is propped open the slightest bit, squishing your cheek against Cyborg’s as you lean forwards with the anticipation of it all. It’s easy to spot the flickering movement from just beyond the door—shadows moving fast from one end to the other. Is someone already there?

You suck in an anxious breath when Cyborg lowers himself to one knee and releases his hold on you, carefully helping you dismount from your cling, and Starfire is all too eager to return your crutch, pushing it into your arms and waving you forwards. Your friends let you nudge open the door then without another word, following you out as you bravely take your first few steps and—

…..

You think you might’ve blacked out for a moment in shock.

Beast Boy circles your legs as you silently take in the state of the roof, rubbing against them with a gentle brush of his body before he exclaims, "Surprise! Did we getcha??"

You blink a few times to get your bewildered mind working again. Because out of any possible scenario you could have—and did—invent within your imagination….it was nothing like…well, this.

The smell of hot food wafting through the summer-like air reaches you first, and you’re drawn to admire what is definitely Starfire's touch in your unexpected surprise. 

There are two tables set up across the roof directly ahead, side by side and pushed flush against the lip of rectangular ledge boxing in the space. Each wooden surface is filled with cutlery, food and drinks in jade colored bowls and glasses, and adorned with fun, rainbow coloured table cloths—the cheap, plastic kind you’d find from a dollar store—and regal centre pieces among the clutter. These consist of wreaths with beaded jewel strings and alien metal shapes, forms that remind you of branded symbols you’d once glimpsed from the hilts of her homeworld weapons.

There’s a fancy new boom box sitting on the ledge, just to the left of the food tables. It’s silvery and shiny in the late evening light, akin to the small heap of patterned presents sitting below it, or the bouquets of metallic balloons weighed down by sandbags in each corner of the roof. 

Cyborg’s own creative touch is more quiet, but still obvious in your racing mind, reflected in the large blue and white fairy lights the size of your fist, strings of them hooked beneath the ledge and spaced along the entire perimeter of the roof. They remind you of mini lava lamps—slowly swinging, each casing filled with swirling, pulsing energy, casting loops of light and shadow which dance across the sleek stone of the rooftop ground.

Your gaze finds four, dark green bean bag chairs next, moved from the game room to sit in a circle further down the left side of the roof. A neat, tent-like canopy, reminiscent of Raven’s more gothic looking style, is set up over them and affixed with steel piping, made of sheer dark sheets in purple, blue, and black—a cozy, magical lounging spot that makes you long for the calmness and dark that only sleep can bring. 

You slowly turn to your right, noting that access to the elevator on the other side of the roof is surprisingly clear for once, the usual pile of rickety telescope gear stored away to make room for dancing. And through an odd urge to cast a look behind you, you easily catch sight of the cute, homemade banner dangling above the door you’ve just stepped through, green and bubblegum pink letters scrawled across a white strip of poster board: Party Like It’s Your Birthday!!

You recognize Beast Boy’s handwriting the moment your eyes trace the first few letters.

It takes you a moment, still staring out at the culmination of your surprise, to realize that it all clashes terribly, although you don't find yourself caring in the slightest. It’s beautiful and endearing and makes sense to you in every way that matters—and you wouldn't have it look any other way.

Huh…look at that.

You're actually getting a hang of this sappy feelings thing.  "Uh, wh—I…what's all this for?" You finally manage to sputter out, once your friends go back to watching you with those barely contained grins and expectant gazes. Even Raven, already in the midst of final preparations, standing by that glorious canopy as she methodically smoothes out wrinkles in the overlapping fabric—both manually and magically—is smiling shyly at you over her shoulder. Her dark, purple-colored eyes are carefully mapping out every hitch in your expression. 

Like the others, she’s dressed more casually than you’re used to seeing around the tower; ripped dark-washed skinny jeans with a cropped tee to match and clunky, black combat boots, a leather choker that looks uncomfortably tight around her neck. But the most unexpected difference has to be when you realize what she’s missing. Her signature, purple-blue cloak has been swapped for a hooded, bomber jacket—black with gold zippers and detailing, and one size too big. It’s so strange a sight that it’s actually….kind of weirding you out a little.

Starfire grasps the wrist of your cast and gently tugs you forward, guiding you further into the organized mayhem that was once the tower’s roof. "The happiest day of birth to you my friend!"

Oh. Oh.

Now this is awkward.

"It's my…birthday?" You ask dumbly. Beast boy’s tiny head, that of an adorably, fluffed up squirrel monkey this time, pops up from the depths of a bowl sitting on the first food table—like some knock-off whack-o-mole game (and wait a goddamn minute, when the hell did he even get there?). His little hands grip the lip of the bowl as he chatters through crunching pretzels.

"Duh! At least yeah, I think so…uh, right?"

You clasp a hand to your forehead when you remember the date and groan, "No, no, you’re right, I think it is. Crap, I feel like I lost an entire year."

Starfire’s whole body slumps at your reaction, floating down until her feet touch ground.

"You are unhappy." She concludes sadly.

Aw, cripes, why are you like this?

"NO! No, Kori, I'm happy!” You hurriedly reassure her, “I just....I haven't really celebrated it in a long time. I never had anyone to..."

They hear your unspoken implication clear enough and offer you sad, little smiles—varying degrees of empathy seeping through into their expressions. Empathy. And not pity. Not judgment. Just compassion from people who understand it all. 

An alien princess far from home who embraces difference and is learning to choose a life for herself, a half-cybernetic football star who had to learn when to let go and walk a new path in life, a troubled half-demon not wanting to be defined by the past or her heritage, a metahuman menagerie of animals fighting the pull of loneliness while still finding strength in his friends, and an orphan circus boy turned vigilante—given not only a second chance to make a difference for others, but unwavering hope as well.

Your own Breakfast Club of heroes.

"Well now ‘ya have us." Beast Boy says with serious resolve you haven’t often seen when it comes to your loyal jokester, the others agreeing simultaneously as he bounds closer in small leaps from across the table. There’s a painful clenching in your chest at their sentiments, and although it feels like you’re on the verge of a heart attack, it’s a good kind of hurt that brings relief to your entire being.

Because thinking it is one thing, but hearing it out loud dregs more emotion to the surface than you ever thought you had—makes it all the more real. You swallow thickly and try to keep composed through another monumental shift in your perceptions.

"I know." You return softly.  Starfire takes your hand and holds it firmly in hers, mindful of the strength in her grip.

"And you are indeed truly....happy?"

Well, that’s a heavy question.

You never truly belonged anywhere, in the past. Too unnatural for everyday civilians, too angry for heroes, too kind for villains. You never understood why no one could just let you be....something in the middle.

But now, you think you’re finally learning that happy is something you can be, even while half-existing in that kind of grey area. So you squeeze her hand in reassurance and take a page from Beast Boy’s book—you attempt to lighten the mood.

"I will be once we get this party started." You tease, pulling away to turn on the boom box and click through stations in search of something party worthy. With that, the others move to disperse; Starfire and the boys already picking through the food tables with interest, while Raven briefly ducks beneath one to retrieve an opaque, plastic storage tote. 

It’s blue and more than decently sized in her arms, but she carries it easily and without a word to the bean bag canopy, sitting (legs crossed and back perfectly straight) to methodically sift through its contents.

Starfire waves you towards the food tables once you settle on a popular radio station known for their mix of genres and artists—a little something for everyone hopefully.

"Come then, you must partake in some of this delicious food. I tried earth recipes." She proudly tells you, scooping up some sort of rice dish to wave under your nose as though hoping to entice you further. It smells pleasant, of grilled vegetables and egg, but all your attention has latched onto a single word that equally intrigues as it concerns you.

“Tried.” You echo, leaning to balance on your crutch and free up your unbroken arm. You press a single finger against the rim of the dish in her hands, lowering it down and away from your face. Starfire looks a little sheepish as she curls an arm around the ceramic, rounded dish and fits it into the crook of her elbow to rest, lifting her own newly freed arm to sweep a lock of hair behind her ear. A nervous tick.

She hugs the dish even closer, “There were…the incidents.”

“Nothing you couldn’t handle.” Raven adds from afar. Starfire leans around you to beam at her welcome encouragement; seeming as though she’s already seconds away from just fly-tackling her into a vice-like hug—a very Starfire act of affection.

Which you should probably redirect now, if you want to keep that beautiful canopy standing.

"Everything smells great, Star. Thank you. In fact..." You select a spoon from the first table and a tiny serving plate, before gesturing in silent question to the dish still in her arms. She’s ecstatic at your offer, extending it to you at once with bright, shining eyes. You carefully ladle out a few spoonfuls of the rice mixture, and with a playful cheers and raise of your spoon, you taste your first dish of the evening.

"Oh shit, that's good." You groan in surprise.

"Oh wonderful, I knew you would enjoy it!"

Beast Boy whoops eagerly from the centre of the second table, crouching among a spread of simple desserts. "Wicked! I call the donuts next!"

Cyborg anticipates his movement before you can, firmly squashing a hand against Beast Boy’s monkey head to keep him from leaping towards an open tray. Beast Boy whines openly at the injustice.

"Dude, come on, be cool!"

Ah, now that makes sense.

Starfire sighs and returns the tasty rice dish to its rightful place, hesitating only to shoot you an apologetic look as she steps towards the commotion. But you just smile in understanding, gesturing for her to go on and deal with the boys before they decimate all of her hard work.

And now it’s probably a good idea to clear the blast zone.

You make a rather slow beeline for the front entrance of the canopy, lowering your body down to sit in the place Raven silently offers you by shifting pointedly to the side—content to be off your feet for a moment. Raven picks up on your underlying curiosity though, the second you glance at the box still under her scrutiny, her gaze cutting up to regard you with the slightest touch of amusement. 

You observe the way she tips her head, a pulse of darkened magic lighting up around the mysterious container, and it slides in a short burst to rest in front of you.

Well, well, what do we have here?

You peer down into the depths and react too late to stifle your gasp.

It’s filled with boxes of classic party games and entertainment, stacked upon each other in neat little towers along the inside: video game cartridges and two portable games devices, a deck of cards, Connect Four, Cluedo, and yep….that's definitely Twister, oh my fuck (you may be a little over excited for this. Which is strange for you...considering you can't even remember the last time you've ever so passionately, deeply, viscerally, wanted to roll out a stupid, colorful tarp and contort your body into unhealthy positions), a wooden board and an accompanying game-piece tin for Checkers, Pictionary, Monopoly, Jenga, Uno, the Game of Life (aaaannd too real with this one actually, might be avoiding that), Guess Who?, Snakes and Ladders, as well as games you hadn't seen since your earlier days of childhood—Rock 'em Sock 'em Robots and Hungry Hungry Hippos (meaning your small child self is living right now).  

Only one person knew about this, knew about your stupid birthday-candle wishes from the short, hopeful part of your childhood that's since been eradicated by harsh realities; the longing desperation to make any kind of worthwhile connection, to know love or be wanted outside of a means to a quick pay-day. 

To swing with others at a crowded park, to play games and join clubs, or have a sleepover with greasy food and late night truths—to be free (and you blame this emotional vomit entirely on exhausted, blabbermouth you, spilling your guts in a tired stupor while sharing stove-top hot chocolate in the kitchen at 3 a.m. Feeling vulnerable when he'd quietly shared his own frustrations with the role of leader and recent disconnect with his father, letting you lament in return about never getting the chance to just…be a normal kid. Something he understood. Something he remembered).

Oh, Dick Grayson.

You are the best of us.

You shake your head clear of any vivid memories, reaching in to unearth the Twister box and hold it up to admire its magnificence in the rapidly fading light. "So.” You start in what you hope is a casual enough tone, exchanging the box for another to seem busy. “You put all of this together, huh?"

She shrugs, "We figured you could use some...fun. After everything that's happened."

You grin and fish out an exceptionally old classic next, pointing the vibrant box of colourful, caricature hippos at her. "I didn't think this was your kind of fun, Rae."

"It's not.” Raven admits bluntly, floating the game from your hands despite your protest and back into the storage container with a challenging raise of her brow. “But I can enjoy the value in it. And in spending time with my friends." 

(You don’t do enough of that. Why don’t you do enough of that?)

"Pfft are you going soft on us?" You say, weakly avoiding eye contact while wrestling away the any more intrusive thoughts and stabs of related guilt.

You watch her fight the beginnings of a smirk, "I could ask you the same question."

"Oh man, that's disgusting even for you B.B!" Cyborg grouses suddenly in the distance, and you’ve never felt so relieved for a distraction in your young life. Your friend is standing in front of the farthest food table when you look over, his hands on his hips and a frown of disapproval trained on something among the mass of dishes and delicious smelling cuisine. 

You find out why when you follow his line of sight, your body and gaze lifting a tad to seek out what’s happened—and you can’t say you’re all too surprised with this inevitable development.

Beast Boy is laying, dramatically draped, across the tray of donuts he’d been denied earlier, monkey toes wriggling to dispel powdered sugar from between them.

"Let me live my life, man." He jokes between fistfuls of sweet pastry. Cyborg makes a grab for him in retaliation and he jerks back out of reach as if fully expecting this outcome, throwing himself to the side in a graceful dodge.

"Halt! Oh please do watch out for the—"

In his flurry of movement—kicking out his legs for momentum and rolling head over feet to a neat stop a few feet further down the table—Beast Boy accidently whacks the side of another bowl near the edge, the dish teetering dangerously on the precipice of destruction.

But Starfire is always quick on her feet. She lunges for the bowl and makes the catch before it can fall victim to the laws of gravity (those you’re already painfully aware of), cradling it safely in her arms and sighing in relief as she cordially lifts it in your direction.

"Do not fear! I have saved the mac of the cheese!"

"Though it has its moments." Raven deadpans, flipping up her hood with a shake of her head.

"Speaking of moments…is this a good time for a dramatic entrance?"

Starfire whirls around unearthly fast at the familiar voice, the echo spiking through the low, near constant beat and rhythm drifting from the speakers of the boom box—none of you having heard a door open or close, or even a single footfall drop onto the roof.

"Robin! You have made it!"

Alright.

You know he’s practically a ninja (because it’s what he’s been dutifully trained to do), but you still think this deserves a hearty what the hell anyway.

How long has he even been standing there?

Though before you can reflect too deeply on the matter, you find yourself bearing witness to Robin’s handling of the fly-tackle hug. To his credit, he takes the sudden, colliding weight like a champ; a short laugh ripped from him at the initial breath-stealing thump, and he stumbles back to restore his balance without falling on his ass.

You can tell that he’s definitely a pro at this by now.

He gives her a generous, friendly squeeze before they part, turning his attention back to the rest of his team. It’s then you fully take in how he’s dressed; slim-fitting jeans, a dark blue tee, a solid, gray flannel shirt over top—unbuttoned and left hanging open, long sleeves rolled up at to his elbows—and red converse. 

His knee is still in a brace, a black watch with a stiff Kevlar strap fastened around his left wrist, its face square and rimmed with silver. And from your place you can even study the state of his dark hair—soft and without gel, but noticeably mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.  

"There's our fearless leader!” You warmly call out, letting Raven ease you helpfully to your feet so that you can welcome your newly arrived team member. You lightly bump your cast against his shoulder once you reach him, and then again just to be annoying when he nudges your arm away the first time (but not without a fond roll of his eyes).

With less distance your gaze finds thin, pink marks left like badges on his skin, the stitches having already healed and dissolved from under his chin and across his collarbone, his blue eyes a little hazy in their focus. 

All in all, he looks tired up this close, in small ways you might overlook in passing—his grin beginning to wilt just at the upper corners of his lips, dropping eyelids and subtle bruising under his eyes, and the barest smudges of oil left neglected on his person; freckle-like specks across his jaw, staining the toes of his converse and the collar of his t-shirt (that particular one looking especially dark and ingrained into the fabric, like he’d hastily blotted at the spot in a rush and then gave up half-way through)—though you wouldn’t guess it from his posture. 

He’s all squared shoulders, a confident lift of his head and a soft, delighted glint in his eyes despite the heaviness you’d noticed before. He’s proud even in the face of exhaustion, so you elect not to bring any attention to it.

“I was beginning to think Batman whisked you off back home for some clown-punching and father-son bonding." You continue impishly, mimicking his mentor’s cowl by placing an index finger on either side of your head. You bounce them up and down in a tease.

"No, that was last month.” Robin reminds you dryly, pressing his lips together to keep from smiling. He jabs a thumb over his shoulder at the open elevator door he’d obviously emerged from. “I was actually just finishing up some final touches on an old friend of yours."

Huh. O…kay?

"Ominous." Cyborg offers before you can voice your own confusion, settling back against a food table with a deviously knowing smile.

Best Boy huffs with palpable disappointment instead, climbing swiftly onto the ledge behind his friend. He scuttles around a portion of the roof to sit beside the thumping boom box, while still taking time to throw out his own affirmation on the matter, before shifting back into his human form and swinging his dangling legs to the beat of the current song.

"Yeah, way creepy, dude."

Robin frowns, “I was being mysterious!”

Cyborg seems to be enjoying this immensely for some reason, leaning forward and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, don’t.”

“Damn. Don’t hold anything back.”

“Do not worry, Robin.” Starfire remarks with a pat to his shoulder, “I still find you the mysterious.”

You try to stifle your sputtering laughter as Robin sighs in defeat, reaching up to touch her hand in wordless thanks. He motions for you to stay where you are then, swiping his finger across the face of his watch. It lights up blue like a touch screen, and something large and humming (a machine?) darts from the inside of the elevator.  

The futuristic motorcycle that slides to a near-silent stop in front of you is like something right out of Tron. There’s a high leather seat and bullet-proof windshield among sleek, rounded black metal and glowing, magnetic green lights. They detail the length of the body like racing stripes, circling around the headlights and up into the shape of a triangle above them, as well as lining the inside rims of its large, treaded wheels (two in front and one in the back). The padded, silver handles poke through the front casing like devil horns.

It’s a familiar, wrenching image—one you could only dream of seeing again after the brutal attack on Jump City.

"Lucy!” You burst out instantly, and much to the Robin’s immense enjoyment, hopping forward in your excitement to reach your beloved cycle. You trace your fingers over the glowing triangle, pressing your palm to the leather seat with stinging, blurry eyes. It feels warm. Alive. “Oh my crap, you resurrected my bike!"

Cyborg gently pats the cycle with pride, "Rob and I spent weeks trying to fix her up. Finally got all the parts working again."

"You—this is—holy shit."

"Glad you like it."

Robin throws an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, pretending not notice your muffled sniffling like a super-star best friend. "Happy birthday, (Y/N)." He mutters, loosening the fancy watch so he can clasp it around your unbroken wrist in a nimble flourish.

Cyborg pumps his fist in the air when you choke out a disbelieving laugh, victoriously striding to the centre of the roof to proclaim:  

"Well, what are we standing around here for? Let's get this thing started!"

“Oh yes, let us start the celebration my friends!”

“Eh, sure.”

"Party people!" Beast Boy cries out in agreement, finally leaping down from the ledge.

"Alright, Alright. You don't have to tell me twice." Robin chuckles, gesturing for the others to go ahead with the festivities. He stays to hover around you though, and is suspiciously quiet at first, simply stepping around you and your newly built cycle to pluck a can of soda from a food table. He idly brushes away condensation with a broad swipe of his thumb, waiting for the others to further disband around you both. 

When the coast is clear, evident by the way he glances from side to side, he turns towards you with his head down, popping the tab on the can and taking a heavy gulp. You raise a brow and wait, more than aware of his tendency by now to try and constantly torture you with the value of patience. He purses his lips in thought, before he finally meets your gaze with a playful twist to his usual smirk.

“So, hey.” He begins somewhat offhandedly, drumming his fingers across the surface of the table, “We should take a team picture at some point. All of us. Like a…memory of tonight’s occasion—if you want.”

You shouldn’t make it this easy for him—because he’ll never stop teasing you about how quickly you caved—but you find that you truly do like the idea. He just doesn’t need to know how much at the moment. So you settle on feigning tired reluctance, hoping (fooslishly) that he doesn’t see right through you.

“It wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

“You guess?”

….

It’s really annoying when he does that.

You pout at the light amusement in his tone and follow his earlier path to the table, seizing a donut in a moment of pure impulse from the tray Beast Boy had previously vacated. You feel satisfied when you notice that it’s one of the unfortunate monkey feet ones, and then thrust it into Robin’s free hand. 

He must have been around long enough to see the offense for himself, because his nose crinkles in distaste when he registers what you’ve given him, letting the tainted pastry dangle from two fingers.

Sweet revenge.

You dole out smirk of your own.

“Eat your donut, dick.”

*****************************************************************

It’s well into the evening, sunset colours already fading calmly from the sky, when Robin parks himself next to you on the ledge of the roof, smoothly swinging his legs over and dropping to sit with a long sigh of relief. Huh…it seems like someone definitely had a longer day today than they let on.

And honestly? Mood.

You tap him with the rounded bottom of the crutch lying across your lap, throwing him a cursory glance and a smile in greeting. But he doesn’t respond the way you expect him to, no. Instead, you’re surprised to see that rare, relaxed grin of his already peeking through all of the obvious exhaustion.

"What are you smiling about, Grayson? You're creeping me out." You muse gently, brow arching at the amusement that grows all the more in the curl of his smile. It’s like he’s proudly uncovered some great secret in the time it took you to voice your thoughts, and is now going to make you work for a satisfying answer. Which, you have to admit, isn’t a very unusual outcome when it comes to your friend and his bat-crazy mentor.

Heh.

Gar would love that one.

"Oh, you know…nothing too important.” Robin counters with a non-committal shrug of his shoulder.

Uhhh, yeah, that’s not comforting in the slightest, you decide.

You narrow your eyes at him and poke at his upper arm accusingly, “You’re never really this terrible of a liar usually.”

“Well, usually isn’t now.”

You pause to let his utter nonsense sink in.

“Are all detectives this uselessly cryptic or is this just a you thing?”

“I think it’s a family thing actually.”

“That I believe.” You laugh, gripping tight to the edge of the concrete ledge with one hand as you lean forward to admire the twinkling darkness of the water far below—a beautiful, convoluted gloom in the beginnings of silver moonlight. You catch his lingering stare in your peripheral when you shift, an odd amount of softness there you’re not exactly used to seeing directed your way.

“What?” You ask again in exasperation (and maybe a tad more overly sharp than you wanted). He only winks when you turn to get a better read on him, and looking much too smug and unconcerned, tips his head back to study the distant, firefly-like pinpricks of light just now glittering through the encroaching dark above you.

There’s a blissful beat of silence between the continuously wafting smells (of heavy spices and cheese and the lingering sweetness of fancy chocolate) and the nearby ambient sounds of your friends locked in an intense game of Jenga (their laughter and conversation—Raven is definitely on a roll by the sounds of it—the clinking of cutlery and plates, and the low, near-constant pop music blanketed beneath it all), and then—

“Welcome home.” He says quietly.

You stare at him a moment longer; hesitant, flustered, warm—like some kind of utter punch-drunk goober—until your gaze slips mercifully back to the sky, drawn in by the trembling might of the stars far out of reach.

And you let the moment sit within the unexpected, peaceful calm his voice brings, unbroken without a sarcastic quip or cynical remark, just this once. A moment to find value in.

Because this is your family, or….what you’d always imagined one to be.

So, even though you’d never truly been privy to a lot of happiness before this—this tiny, momentous moment right where you need to be; sitting on the roof ledge of your home—you find your own sense of peace in thinking that here and now, if there ever was a happy place in this life for you—

This is it.  

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Retrograde (Pieces of the People We Love, Part 2.)

Description: Not many people had the chance to see a vault or to mean anything in the world of Pandora. Will a hardly built relationship in the loneliness of the desert have the potential to change anything in the world of anarchy and chaos - or will the friends try to murder each other?

A/N: One time, my friend asked me if I would like to drink Dr. Bob or classic Coke when she was making an analogy for a random movie. So Dr. Bob is sort of a long running jokw when comparing a bad movie.

Warnings: A lot of guns, violence, reader is a tough badass - not a vault hunter tho. They’re badass and don’t give a fuck. And Scooter is a dumb bitch, as always. All Psychos and Fanatics are various Vine references - oh, what luck that reader can understand them since she is friends with Bandits.

Word count: 3.6K

Tagging: @notaliteraltoad​, @nemodoren​

Series master list:  H E R E

You were looking straight into the man's face for what seemed to be infinity, it was almost half an hour, while your entwined fingers supported your resting chin. You sat there like that for the past hour while Scooterboy was eating like crazy. He was sure hungry like a wolf.

That was pretty acceptable and reasonable, as far as you could judge - he was pronounced DEAD several years ago. The worst part was that the whole Pandora probably mourned for the best-known, and basically only, mechanic in the business. And now, he was just looking at Pintley and ate almost everything from his plate, looking like a hamster. Scooter literally stuffed his faces with homemade fried Skag bacon and Pintley's bread - definitely one of the best combinations in the entirety of Pandora.

"Are you done with the food?" - A mumbled cold as ice filled the room when Scooter finally finished the fourth plate of food and his last can of the Dr. Bob cola. The drink was sure as hell not healthy and barely nutritious, but it was the only soda Pintley had in Hell's Cauldron's pub.

"Now, you're going to explain to me how the hell are you alive and why, for the fuck's sake, have you respawned here." - The rhythm of your words was slow, your tongue rolled every syllable on its top - as if Scooter had some brain damage. Each of you was staring at the mechanic with hidden curiosity; this was a miracle, to say the least. Was he inside the database the whole time? If he wasn't there, could it be that the systems had some hard time figuring where should it respawn him? It didn't matter how you approached the problem - any of the solutions was making sense to you.

"Ye man, I'm done for now. Thanks for payin' for me, anyway. I don't have any cash on me since..." - Scooter zoned out for a second, watching a small spot next to your head. He was doing that quite a lot throughout his eat-all-you-can episode. His eyes fixed on a precise point somewhere inside the room. It was unnerving.

Without wanting, your eyebrows had risen on their own after a minute of complete silence. You've counted every second of Scooter spacing out before deciding to drag him out of the trance. Slowly, you rose both your hands and clapped. The metallic one could clap pretty loud, so it made Scooterboy freak out, looking around with genuine fear on his face. You've given him another ten seconds to get it all together before you leaned a bit closer, still staring at him without any clear emotion on your face.

Scooter, at first, was staring back at you. Then, he chuckled and leaned his back into the chair. - "How can I know, man? I'm only Scooter, I do cars. Ye, I could repair you a network or stations when ya would like me to, but nobody except those Hyperion robots doesn't know how does New-U work. Can I have another Dr. Bob? I'm really thirsty." - Scooterboy asked you politely, raising the empty can to your eye-level. Oh, he was negotiating, that was what he was doing. He wasn't going to tell you anything without another can of the naughty mysterious cola, right? Well, if this was the case...

Slowly, you closed your eyelids so much that they became two small lines, thinking about murdering Scooterboy just for the fun of it; it wouldn't be that bad, since he would respawn at the station again. It would be maybe morally incorrect, but who were you to care about such bullshit? Being the responsible adult you pretended to be, you managed to overcome your sour feelings against Scooter and calmed down, leaning your back into the chair as well.

"Listen up, young man. You'll tell me everything you remember from the last time you were alive and I, as a little show-off of my gratitude, will buy you another cheap and disgusting cola. Are we on the same page?" - Another few seconds passed until Scooter nodded in agreement before you stretched your arm to Pintley; the old man basically tore the money out of your palm, making you shoot a furrow in his direction. With the speed of literal lighting, he fetched another red can of the soda; everyone was eager to hear Scooter's tale so they could piece the story together on their own.

That didn't mean you would completely wipe the thoughts regarding Scooterboy's sudden and unexpected death in your head. For a reason, when you managed to wrap yourself in some rather unpleasant bullshit, murder scenarios were your usual go-to tactic to calm down once more. Like most things on Pandora, this tendency couldn't be simply explained or treated by walking straight to a therapist's office. If you'd believe what Blindy told you here and there, another psycho named Jay had a small psychologist office on his own - but let's be serious, what good could a therapy by a psycho do? Your situation wasn't that bad for now; until you'd randomly go on a rampage, you weren't planning on booking an appointment.

The staring contest was going on for a few seconds, yet when neither of you cut the staring off, your normal arm slowly rose another two dollars, as you kept on watching Scooter intensely. Anticipation was in the air as the mechanic leaned closer to Pintley, catching the soda between his fingers. After that, he just gave you an innocent gaze. - "I blew up." - Scooter said simply, shrugging his shoulders. That made Billy, who was sitting two tables away from you, laugh out loud.

"BITCH DISGUSTING!" - Rayray yelled and every single one of you, including Scooter, looked at the bandit boy. Scooter was the only person in the room who certainly didn't know what Rayray just told him; given Blindy gasped for air, it couldn't be nice. "Dude, there's no need to be this harsh. Calm your tits and apologize!" - You yelled in Scooter's defense and so did Billy.

Not that you were a master psycho-to-normal translator, yet you could at least roughly understand what Rayray just said. Each of you had your mouth opened as you stared at the bandit boy. You could rarely hear him say something so outrageously accusing. What he said was so damn rude; he was accusing Scooter of lying just like that.

"There's no need to be so fuckin' aggressive, you deadbrain! You don't know if he's lying or not! Say that you're sorry. Do you even realize that enough people already think that we're nothin' but stupid idiots?!" - Billy said in a firm voice and stared Rayray down, almost smacking him like a bitch. Rayray and Billy had a father-son relationship which could simply be described as ridiculous. Yet, since they both lived in the same bandit colony, somebody had to lead Rayray to behave as well as he could.

“I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE DONE THIS.” - Rayray said in a low voice with his head hung low. Everyone shook their heads and looked at Rayray with disappointment just before shifting their looks back on Scooterboy. Each one of you was wondering about the story Scooter had to tell; as you looked over to him and observed the face his face was looking, he surely wasn't done with the story just yet.

“There was a group of weird people travelin' with my friends and one day they came to me and ask “Hey, Scoot, ya willin' to make us a rocket? Need to go to Helios ASAP.” and I was like “Yea”. So I and my pal Janey built them a rocket, but there was a small mechanical problem and my hand was stuck in the rocket... And it needed to blow up, so they could continue their journey to reach Helios, alrite? And it took me to hell and back, man, I tell ya.” - Scooter smiled a bit at that thought. - “I remember it blowin' up. Me bein' on it. And now I'm sitting here with new friends, sippin' some good old Dr. Bob. How is Helios hangin'?”

The silence that had suddenly surrounded you all was uncomfortable, to say the least. Quickly, you glanced over Pintley to look out of the window. Until that day, you could still pinpoint the exact location where Helios was hovering in the sky. Never in those long years since it had blown up, you'd look in the sky and think "Man, it's strange to not see an ugly-ass space station there". But, somehow, that was precisely what you've been thinking about at that moment. Obviously, if Scooter was dead for the past seven years, his first instinct wouldn't be to look up and search for the most hideous view you've ever had encountered. But not that you realized he wasn't fucking with any of you, it felt strange not to see the station there. As if it was your personal guilt that some jackasses had blown it up.

It was you, again, who decided to speak the first. With a gulp, you've leaned forward to lean your elbows to your thighs, trying to say it in the most natural way possible. - “Scooter... Helios was blown up by a group of pretty weird guys.” - It was nothing but a mere whisper. - “Five years or so ago.”

For a moment, Scooter didn't seem to be connecting the information. It didn't click until a few minutes later. - “Wait, what? And... Sanctuary?” - Scooter leaned even deeper into his chair with his gaze directed into the oblivion. Why did you have to be the one who had to tell the deadman all the news? Why wasn't anyone else speaking? But as you looked over to the men around, their gazes only answered "Well, you've started with it, don't be a pussy now and finish what you were saying". Did Scooter even know that Handsome Jack was dead now? That there were rumors about discovering about four or five new vaults on the sister planets of Pandora? Did he know that the Children of the Vault had risen all over Pandora? And if he didn't know... How much were you supposed to tell him if you didn't want him to have a hysterical seizure?

“Okay, we might have to trace what you know, get your timeline matching ours and we will have to tell you... So many new things that you may shit your pants.” - You mumbled and opened another Dr. Bob. It took quite some time before you managed to somehow connect your memories with his. It was almost ten p.m. when you ended. Occasionally, you managed to line-up his memories until the moment when the original Sanctuary was attacked by the flower-army or who (don't act so surprised - anything was pretty much possible on Pandora). As the tales said, the town was now blown up into millions of tiny rocks and the VHs had constructed a literal spaceship (which was Scooter's sister Ellie). Again, you couldn't tell how much of it was true. You couldn't be quite sure that anything on the planet Pandora you heard had actually happened.

But mostly, it all seemed to true - that Helios has fallen, that Sanctuary was teleported by the legendary siren Lilith, known as the Firehawk, or that Handsome Jack was posting a job wanted posts for Vault Hunters wanted just so he could easily kill them off. Carefully, you told Scooter about the chaos that started when Sanctuary was blown up and the vault key had been lost in the desert. Back then, it was hard to notice the entire Pandora changing since you've been living in a literal desert, but you could tell that something wasn't adding up. When you told him about the siren-powered Calypso twins, you couldn't leave out their cringy streaming career.

You told him all about how the COV had recruited most of the bandit and psycho clans all over Wastelands, starting their big suicidal cult somewhere in an old base, growing bigger with each month. They weren't a serious threat, serious pain in the pain at their best, but they could be quite something to deal with at times. Of course, were now including all the women that were insane enough to join them, which was among the first questions Scooter was wondering about. Now, there was a small amount of free-psycho-bandit-whatever clans remaining in the deserts and wastelands. Most of the bandits joined the COV; the places they've been living in before were now empty, lifeless and Pandora was a bit less fun without the random encounters.

“So, you aren't in contact with Lilith? Or Moxxi? Or Ellie? Or basically anyone?” - The man asked suddenly after being quiet for a moment. You weren't thinking of yourself as the most empathetic person in the whole of the desert; you've told Scooter all about the reality you've been living in for the past couple of years. For you, it was natural to take it all as the matter of fact - but you couldn't forget about Scooter being a man-out-of-time. It could take him some time to understand the rules of today's Pandora and you had to be patient with him for now. Until you'd get rid of him and get back to your old life.

The question about the VHs and Crimson raiders made you surprised. How could you be in contact with them when you never met them before? - “I don't even know them personally, dude. Hey... You okay, Scooterboy?” - The can with the nasty cola was laying on the table as if Scooter didn't even want it anymore. His face went two shades paler and the grin on his face had faded away. - “You look like you're about to puke.”

Now, he lowered his head and played with his fingers, fidgeting them around. Yeah. It was tough to get accustomed to. So many things had changed since his days on Pandora and even though, it all remained almost the same. It must've been feeling pretty surreal. - “Nah, man. I'm not about to puke, don't ya worry. It's just too much to take in. That's all. I'll be alrite.” - He answered. You could tell something's off. He was an exploding ball of energy and happiness just two hours ago; now, you managed to destroy his confidence, positivity, and to murder his good mood. Wow. Good job, you.

“I'm sorry if you think that your friends abandoned you here..." - At that point, Pintley looked on the back of your head. Was he dreaming or were you being... Nice to someone? What happened to you? Were you trying to calm Scooter down? Did you finally grow as a person? Oh, but then the rest came, destroying the nice-person aura you had for a bit. "But that's true, man. They left you here because they thought you were dead-dead... And that's kinda fair if you ask me. I both know it, you know it, Rayray knows it. We all do. Keep it together, yeah? You were fucking dead for the past couple of years. There are so many new things to get accustomed to. But if you'll chicken out of that, you're a pussy." - The tone of your voice was empty and emotionless.

Pintley, for a minute, saw some kind of humanity shining through the aura of I-don't-give-a-diddly-damn you've been keeping ever since he met you. The truth was - you simply didn't care enough to "do emotions", as you called it. You weren't good at it at all, so you didn't bother with trying. Maybe that's was why you were living on your own in the middle of a desert. That was a pretty plausible explanation.

There were some people you'd call friends, yeah. You even liked to joke around with them. You could do sarcasm, irony, and arse-biting jokes that were sometimes really offensive. But every other emotion was a literal mystery to you. You couldn't quite show them off even if your heart was warm and full of love. And it was even worse when somebody pissed you off. As soon as you turned on the killing-machine mode, as Pintley called it, you didn't care about being as subtle as possible. Nothing in this world couldn't stop you from shooting someone, killing them, or simply throwing them through the window? Oh, how many times did you have to pay Pintley a new window? He wouldn't be able to count it even if he'd like to.

Yet, even though your dead stare and emotionless expression, the man smiled and patted your shoulder. With a furrow, you watched Scooter slowly backing his hand back to his lap, since you seemed to be thinking about biting the said arm off. "At least I respawned here, where ya people are actually pretty friendly under playin' that "I'm a badass and cold" facade." - At that, Pintley grinned; since you didn't know what you should respond, you just nodded and made a weird sound. You didn't know what to answer - you never met anyone that would see you as a... Friendly person? Ugh. Sure, pretty friendly persons live in a cabin hidden far, far away from any signs of society and they have actually fun when they hunt Skags. Right... That was a description of your normal local weirdo, not a description of a damn nice person. As you finished your internal monologue, you snickered under your breath, shaking your head as you unconsciously sat in a defensive position; your knee was thrown over your knee, your arms were covering your torso.

"And where you're planning to sleep, Scooterboy?" - Pintley asked. Since he was done with all the cleaning, he lightened up a cigarette, leaning his shoulder into a near doorframe. - "You know. Just wondering."

Scooter seemed to realize it at the same time you did; where will the poor guy sleep? Pintley had a guest room, sure, but you could already tell something fishy was going on since Pintley himself was the one calling the shots. You knew a spot or two in the forest where Scooter could make a small campsite; you've been sleeping there when the hunt took too long. - "I hadn't thought of somethin' like that. Wow. I am a homeless person, isn't that quite funny?" - Scooter said, clearly being more saddened than before. Damn, were you and Pintley trying to outdo each other in bringing Scooter's mood lower than before? Clearly, you had more points for the entire Calypso mascarade, but this was an impressive move, to say the least.

Of all people inside the room, it was Blindy who answered. - "Y'all know we can't take him to Ham's Creek. Guys would eat Scooter alive, Cowboy." - Blindy shrugged his shoulders and you just nodded. It was clear Blindy wasn't joking around - every time you had to visit Ham's Creed, you had goosebumps all over your body. Even if you didn't think of yourself as an emphatic person, you surely thought you're courageous. Damn, your day-to-day job was to hunt Skags down. But Ham's Creek? That was a whole another universe of horror and things that were unseen until you stepped inside the psycho territory. They would grill him like a pig and you didn't second-guess that they would even manage to find an apple which would they stuff into Scooter's mouth. That wasn't a nice image.

Pintley, the traitor, sighed too. - "I would give him a room if Jocelyn wasn't over right now." - Pintley said in a low voice, which was merely indicating how deeply in love your friend was. That mothersucker. Oh, you knew her. You precisely knew who Jocelyn was. With a confused face, you've been the one to answer Pintley's confession. "Listen, man, love's nice and all... But... Just theoretically... If you have your girlfriend over, and you have sex with her... Why don't you guys sleep in one bed? As far as I know, it's kinda considered to be normal." - It was a frown on your face that made Pintley realize you didn't buy his bullshit at all.

The old man only reddened before mumbling an answer. - "Jocelyn and I aren't ready for such a commitment to sleep in one bed." - At that, you had enough. The next sentence kind of... Slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. "Pintley, do you realize that Jocelyn is a figurine? You can literally put her anywhere else and let Scooter have a sleepover at your place before we figure out what to do with him." - The tone of your voice was so incredulous that your voice just slipped an octave higher. For a moment, you've been looking at each other; but it didn't make Pintley say "okay".

It was at that second when you realized what was going on. No, Pintley and Blindy didn't agree on this beforehand, yet both of them were sure it wasn't to be them who would have the boy in their home that night. The truth was that you had an ultra-old couch at your place that was just... There. - "Ah, you sons of a bitch." Right after that, you stood and expected Scooter to do the same; as he remained sitting there, you just snapped your fingers in front of his face, which freaked him out. As he was picking himself up from the ground, you walked through the pub while putting your significant hat back on.

"Looks like you'll be at my place, boy. Get up, Blindy will drive us home.” - And right before you left, you've shown Pintley your middle finger, making the man chuckle under his breath.

[ionlycareaboutteam7-blog]

why do sasunaru shippers hate sasusaku more than naruhina/sakura more than hinata? || aka a sasunaru shipper explaining why sasusaku is better than naruhina in every conceivable way

yeah yeah this isn’t my lane as a sasunaru shipper to comment on ss because it’s not my ship but it IS my lane to comment on sasuke and sakura, 2 of my favourite naruto characters.

this is my first post about naruto or any series in quite awhile, so excuse any possible errors on my part, but i’ve been thinking and i’d like to write out my thoughts on a particular subject. i’m back with a controversial opinion, of course because those are the only ones i’ll ever have

if you ship sasunaru and u viciously hate sakura i suggest going into this post with an open mind because... you aren’t gonna like a lot of what is said here but i suggest reading anyways :-)

during my time in naruto fandom i’ve noticed a trend among sasunaru shippers(and anti ending people in general), sakura is the butt of all of the jokes and especially after the manga ending and gaiden being released people have loved to make jokes about SS’s marriage but hinata never gets the same negative treatment and my thoughts are only

why?

act i: underratus sasusakus

i’m going to get straight to the point and say my opinion. sakura and sasusaku especially are given extremely unfair treatment and exaggerated belittlement among the sasunaru fandom. allow me to explain why

if you love this bitch right here

you should have done enough character analysis to realize these few things about him

1: he was completely deprived of love and any connections from like age 7 up until he met naruto, sakura and kakashi

2: he felt like he had to push everyone he cares about away because he saw it as weak

and 3: underneath all of his trauma he’s kind hearted

so knowing all of these obvious things, why would you say that in moments like these

he is actually trying to shake off someone he doesn’t like at all and only sees as a girl with an annoying crush?

or alternatively, why would you say he’s abusive and she deserves better but then go and ship him with your favourite character? it’s so transparent and it’s obviously just a filler excuse so you don’t have to actually look into the character dynamics and how they work because you don’t want to admit that your least favourite ship actually isnt awful.

Sasuke isn’t the type of person that would have such disregard and apathy towards a person that’s shown him nothing but love throughout the entire series. that goes against his entire character’s philosophy and most of the arguments seem to be pulled out of thin air also

He obviously cares about sakura plain and simple, no mental gymnastic argument in the world can disregard plain canon evidence. if youre so set on the idea that sasuke doesn’t give a shit about sakura, then i’m gonna raise the question: why would you have a character who doesn’t care about one of his teammates that supported him as ur fave? which leads me to my next point

there’s obviously gonna be theeese kind of people:

“of course my precious baby sasuke loves his team, but sakura has a selfish love and she will never deserve him!!!!”

there are SO many anti sakura arguments from sasunaru shippers that are just plain wrong so i’m gonna use this opportunity to crush them all

“sakura only liked sasuke cause he was hot and popular”

after sakura was surprised that the kid guessed she liked sasuke, she was informed he was popular with the girls

so that one panel gets rid of that argument

“sakura doesn’t really love sasuke, she was going to kill him...”

...because she thought it was her ONLY OPTION to save him from himself, she thought he was too far gone and it wasn’t until naruto showed up that she had hope again (which is why sasunaru shippers being as threatened by ss as they are is so dumb and crazy)

personally i don’t like this aspect of ss and heavily prefer the sasunaru dynamic with the whole eternal never giving up on you thing because it scratches my particular shipping itch but it’s foolish to say that sakura doesn’t love sasuke period, she obviously does and she does deeply and she’s one of the closest people to him and always will be

Sasusaku gets tons of unfair hate just because of the long running anti Sakura meme, and it’s always been the scapegoat of the anti naruto ending crowd. But it’s silly to me because it makes sense that if sasuke doesn’t end with naruto, he would end with sakura

aside from naruto, his closest living person is sakura plain and simple. she’s done nothing but love him, maybe not as absolutely and unconditionally as naruto has, and maybe she did falter but it’s more than anyone else in the entire series(besides naruto) has and it’s more than he’s ever got from anyone else (besides naruto lol) so if sasunaru doesn’t happen why on earth would you be upset that the boy who was so deprived of love for his entire life ended up with this girl?

if not naruto, sakura is the best person for sasuke plain and simple because literally who else in the series (besides naruto) put up with all of his baggage for the entirety of the series, + she raised his child when he was MIA and sarada actually grew up to be a diligent and intelligent ninja. i ain’t even mad when people ship SS

sasuke has recognized all of this, too.

and has thanked sakura for all of the love she’s ever provided for him throughout the years, even when he was not himself and hurting her, she always just wanted him to be okay, and he appreciates it. so of course he married sakura, duh.

you cant even be threatened by their eye smex

because sasuke gives naruto bedroom eyes all day long

he gives a shit about sakura okay?!?! sakura gives a shit about him okay?!?! it’s okay to acknowledge that his canon marriage isn’t the devil while still realizing the objective superiority of your otp!!!!!

all of this can be summarized into, for some reason sasusaku threatens the sasunaru fandom and leads them into having bullshit mental gymnastic arguments against it for no real reason when....

the real monster of the series is naruhina.

act ii: naruheinous disgustus

NARUHINA IS THE WORST SHIP TO EVER COME OUT OF ANY SHOUNEN MANGA, OR ANY MANGA EVER EXCEPT MAYBE SOMETHING LIKE VAMPIRE KNIGHT. I said it.

sorry about coming off a little strong there, but i have a lot to say about this matter, and you know i’m for real when i have a lot to say about something that has so very little.

it seems to me like most sasunaru shippers don’t actually care about naruhina and just give it a free pass cuz it’s boring and she’s nice and cute and whatever

but naruhina is so much worse than sasusaku on every imaginable level

so, so much worse

because where sasusaku at least has friendship

naruhina has nothing

at least where sasusaku has care and chemistry

naruhina has a bland empty space

because hinata is a bland and empty character

[due to plot holes and retcon in the last and other filler, i will only be using kishimoto’s material for this post. but hey, since naruhina is canon only the author written material has to be enough, right? right....? please guys he ships our ship he made it canon i swear he planned everything to end with their epic moon(who sasuke) love story]

we get shown this when naruto gets introduced to hinata and his only impression of her is that she’s a weirdo

We get this when Naruto never ever noticed Hinata, while Sasuke was actively trying to cheer Sakura up

naruhina in part 1 has absolutely NO basis at all. it’s absolutely nonexistent from naruto’s side.

unfortunately... it remains that way.

this moment. this fucking moment is when it all started to go downhill. i mean, naruhina was always at the bottom but this is when it becomes apparent that the ship is never going to pick itself back up.

i’m not going to be one of the people who say that after naruto completely ignored her confession that she should just never think about him again and find a new guy, that’s unreasonable.

however,

naruto completely ignored her confession! in fact, i don’t even think he ignored it. i think it just never occured to him that he should even talk to her which is even sadder imo... sasuke, who is apparently the devil to sasuke, at least y’know... thanked her.

after this happened we never saw hinata’s reaction to this, her feelings on why naruto never replied to her, we never even see her doing anything outside of thinking about naruto/talking to naruto period unless it’s a fight in a flashback

it’s almost like hinata is an NPC in the naruverse programmed to react to anything naruto related and nothing else. you can definitely not say this about sakura, she has a defined personality. Hinata doesn’t.

don’t even understand how this

[sending her son to fight alone against an enemy of unknown strength and only telling him to... take care of naruto-kun]

could ever be favoured over this

sakura > hinata

sasusaku > naruhina

sasunaru shippers = dumb for hating on sasusaku and giving naruhina a free pass