#god i cannot wait to get a single room next year

[stemacademics]

my roommate had moved my bed a few paces away than where it was earlier

I slept last night thinking that it felt like I'm a bit too close to the window than before, but I brushed it off thinking I was tired. but then today I saw my suitcase lying at an infuriating angle (I would never be able to live with myself if I did that) and realised that she had pushed my cot and moved my suitcase lying beneath.

I hate it when people touch my things without my permission. like back off dude, they're my stuff and you cannot touch them without my permission, you just cannot

[ivystoryweaver]

your dads rival!leto atreides headcanons were delicious what do you think about dads rival!nathan bateman?

Your Father’s Rival!Nathan Bateman

Would Nathan engage in mainstream, juvenile behavior simply to piss off his rival? (Yes. Yes he would) Notes: smut, a bunch of oral, language. it's naughty

Word count: 3k

The above^ mentioned Father'sRival!Leto Atreides hc's @reallyrallyauthor received similar asks (Father's Rival!Nathan) and you HAVE to read the thots and headcanons - they are amazing

Everyone’s on Bluebook. Everyone. Except your family. Your friends never stop complaining about it. Your dad owns a less popular, less lucrative, but still - formidable social media platform, in addition to the rest of his business

And he hates Nathan Bateman.

He and Nathan went to school together-ish, briefly. Your dad was a superstar TA, about to finish his master's degree, when a sixteen-year-old freshman stole his spotlight. Nathan finished his two degrees and all his postgraduate work in two years,

Never got a doctorate because it was “boring.”

Your dad insists Nathan stole the idea for Bluebook. You just laugh at him. “Sure, he did, Dad.”

Despite your father's insistence to the contrary, you show up on Bluebook because you’re always in pictures with your friends.

One day your friend calls you absolutely freaking out. After a string of “oh my god oh my god's” she finally tells you that Nathan Bateman himself has liked her photo.

“Sure he did,” you deadpan. (Do you ever believe anyone?)

The next picture posted with you in it (by a completely different friend) gets a like from him. Then another, and another. One of your friends starts to put it together. Nathan has liked seventeen pictures by 6 different friends and the only connecting factor is that you are in each of them.

Then you get the email. “Nathan Bateman has invited you to join Bluebook.” You laugh. Sure it’s him. As if the reclusive billionaire plays middle school games.

But out of overwhelming curiosity and pure, college rebellion, you sign up before you can think too hard about it.

Your friends go crazy. “Look who’s finally here!” You get tagged in a hundred and one things…and Nathan likes every single one of them.

“Nathan Bateman follows you.” With the authenticated checkmark and everything. Your friends become obsessed. They follow every like, screenshotting and reposting like crazy.

Of course, by now, your father is livid. This is a betrayal of your entire family, apparently.

"You cannot give that man an inch," your dad rants, attempting to lecture you while you make dinner.

"What does that even mean?" You huff.

"He's using you to get to me," he conspiratorially rambles, pacing back and forth. "He's trying to destroy me. He's trying to take you away from me."

"He liked some pictures," you shrug, rolling your eyes. "Besides, he probably has like perfect models at his house every other weekend. He definitely doesn't want to take me anywhere."

An alert on your phone chimes.

Nathan Bateman. "Come to a party with me."

Oh shit.

"Who is that?" Your dad practically roars, fearing the worst. He is, unfortunately, correct in assuming Nathan is making a move. Or shit-shirring, whichever.

"Dad, I'm not answering that question." You fold your arms over your chest, tucking your phone out of his sight. "I'm twenty-two. Not twelve."

You lock yourself in your room and reply to Nathan, your heart pounding in your chest as you do.

"How did you get this number?"

"You signed up for Bluebook," He sends back. "I'll pick you up tonight at 10:00."

"Wait, tonight? Where are we going? What do I wear?"

"What you're wearing right now is fine. See you then."

What you're wearing right now.... is he spying on you?

You, of course, change out of your around-the-house clothes and dress in what you hope is passable party attire.

A limo arrives at 10:00 sharp to pick you up and you dart out the door, thankful your dad is already snoring on the couch. The driver opens the door for you, but the car is otherwise empty.

Your phone dings. "You changed clothes. I told you not to."

Your mouth drops open as you furiously type back, "You're really fucking creepy."

"Thank you"

You arrive at the nicest hotel in the city and are shuffled up to the penthouse. Nathan himself greets you in a white undershirt, thin gray joggers and bare feet. The shirt hugs his impressive muscles while the joggers highlight a bulge between his legs that makes your eyes linger.

"Jesus, that took forever. Should've sent the chopper."

He turns on his heel and walks inside, assuming you'll follow, which you do. Glancing around, you realize no one else is at this "party"

He plops down at a dining room table, pulls one leg up into his chair, grabs some chopsticks and continues eating a meal he started without you.

Noticing you standing there, stupefied, he motions to the chair across from him with his chopsticks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

Dark eyebrows shoot up over his wire frames questioningly.

"I'm allergic to shellfish...and basically like the whole ocean."

(He knows)

"Shit," he laughs. "Better not post a picture of our date, then, or your father will accuse me of attempted murder."

“Date? This is supposed to be a party."

Before he answers you, he holds up his phone and snaps your picture.

"What the hell are you - "

Ding, ding, dingdingingngngngg before you can even finish your sentence, your phone blows up with Bluebook notifications.

Nathan Bateman has tagged you in a photo. It's you, standing here, now. Thank god you dressed cute, but the expression on your face could be better. Still, you've looked worse.

But it's the caption. My fucking hot date

Nathan grabs the phone out of your hand and silences it, making sure it doesn't vibrate either.

"You have notifications on? Desperate." He tuts condescendingly.

You snatch the phone back and whack Nathan on the arm. "You said party. Not date. Do you ever tell the truth?"

He shrugs. "Well...you are fucking hot."

Smooth. “Why…am I here exactly?”

He nods, shoveling more fish into his mouth. “I know you ate dinner with your dad, but those Italian subs you like are on the way if you’re still hungry.”

"Mr. Bateman, really - "

He snorts. "Mr. Bateman was my father."

You gasp in mock surprise. "You mean to tell me you didn't come out of a test tube?"

He motions at you with his chopsticks. "Where do you get that sense of humor? Certainly not from your father. I've never met anyone with less imagination."

"What do you want, Nathan? Assassination by shellfish?" You fold your arms over your chest. "No way am I worth all this effort."

"Nonsense, I've been orchestrating our meeting for some time." Finally he confesses. "I’m buying out your father’s company and I want you to convince him to surrender peacefully.”

You don’t even know where to begin. Your dad is selling? Nathan’s buying? “You would never need someone like me for something like that.” You call his bluff.

He insists he’ll make it worth your while.

“How?”

He shrugs. “I have a huge dick.”

Wha? “You’re disgusting.”

“Why? According to your porn history, you fantasize about riding a big dick. I have one. Your dad surrenders peacefully, you get to ride my dick.”

"If you wanted me to touch you, you shouldn't have covered yourself in deadly allergens. Dumbass."

He continues eating. “Your loss. Your dad will already think we fucked though.”

He’s right. Everyone will actually, after that picture.

“So you might as well at least get a hate fuck out of it.”

“I hate you,” you redundantly declare. You head for the door. He is way over the line.

“You’ll be back.”

The aftermath is absurd. Your father is enraged, your friends will not shut up about your “date” with Nathan (and demand the details about the alleged sex you had with him).

Nathan sends flowers. Tulips (your favorite) mixed with stargazer lilies (which you’re allergic to). 'Miserable without you' the card says.

Your father half seriously threatens to kick you out.

Nathan tags you on Bluebook, saying you’re going to Hawaii together, if you’ll stop being mad at him.

From there, interested people start a whole narrative online, quickly and easily convincing themselves that you’re together. He texts you for weeks (You text him back. He's funny) and even calls you sometimes.

One evening, his face appears on your screen - a call you didn't accept. "Why are you stalking me?"

"Did you pack for Hawaii yet? I sent some things over."

He's working out. No glasses. Tank top. Sweat. Muscles. Fuck, he's hot.

"Yes, Nathan, I got all twenty packages." With beautiful clothes and accessories exactly your size and style. Damn him.

"But you didn't pack?" He waves his hand dismissively. "Fuck it, I'll buy you new stuff when we get there."

You remind Nathan how he is trying to destroy your father's company, not to mention steal your inheritance, so there is definitely no way you're going to Hawaii with him.

"Come over then. No shellfish, I swear. I'll eat you out instead."

Holy shit.

You’re stupefied.

He groans.

“Are you going to stare at the screen or go outside and get in the limo? I’m waiting.”

This time, the limo takes you to a helipad. You reluctantly climb on a helicopter, briefly wondering if this is a corporate kidnapping or the first leg of your alleged Hawaiian adventure. After quite a long ride, you arrive at a well hidden, sprawling estate, tucked effortlessly into the side of a mountain.

It’s freezing, but Nathan waits for you in a light windbreaker and joggers, with bare feet.

You’re secretly thrilled that he’s waiting to greet you. He kisses your cheek almost affectionately, then turns on his heel and walks away. You follow, naturally.

Once inside, he motions to a gigantic vase filled with calla lilies. “Those are for you. My assistant sent you those fucking stargazer lilies. Well, former assistant. By the way, do you want a job?”

Your hands land on your hips. “You already tried to kill me with shellfish, so I just assumed stargazer lilies were the next logical step. And did you seriously just ask me if I want to be your personal assistant? On the heels of you stealing my inheritance?”

“My assistant made almost as much as your father pays himself before I fired him,” he scoffs, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. "I'm not touching your inheritance." He nods to a stack of papers. "It's all right there. Have your attorneys take a look."

Slowly you approach the table, tracing one fingertip over the beautiful calla lilies before reaching for the papers. You sigh, shaking your head. "You're talking about my dad's life work. He'll never agree."

Nathan shrugs one shoulder. "He said he would if I'd leave you alone. Never see you again, ghost you."

Your eyes go wide. "Then what am I doing here?"

He waves his hand dismissively, inching toward you. "I still have to eat you out."

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

Nathan's thick beard and perfect lips have been nestled scandalously between your thighs for thirty-eight minutes. You've gushed all over him twice, in, hands down, the best orgasms you've ever had in your life.

Better than anybody before him. Better than your vibrator. And your other vibrator.

Your fingertips play with his fuzzy hair as your hips eagerly rock into his face again and again. Tears streak down your cheeks, pooling on the couch pillow under your hair. The overstimulation is like nothing you've ever dreamed - searing every nerve ending in delicious torture.

But you can't stop and he won't stop.

You thought he was fucking with you when he asked you to come over so he could eat you out. He hasn't even used his fingers - only his lips and tongue, stroking, licking, sucking, swirling, fucking up into you over and over. His thick fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place while his thumbs languidly trace the sensitive spot where your ass meets the back of your thigh.

Body shuddering in rapture, you teeter on the precipice of another wave of pleasure tinged with the slightest discomfort skittering along your spine because it's just too fucking much.

"Nathan...Nathan," you breathlessly moan, halfheartedly attempting to push his shoulders away from your pussy.

He raises his head just long enough to meet your blissed out, watery gaze, smiling in satisfaction. "You're close, honey. Give me one more." And dives back in without a moment's hesitation.

"oh fuck..." incoherent moans and gasps follow as he suckles your clit between his lips so tortuously your back arches off the couch. His tongue joins, rapidly flicking your swollen bud as you shatter and gush, squirting all over his tongue and soaking his beard.

Your vision goes white and your body limply falls away from his mouth as he releases you, groaning with the satisfaction that his rival's daughter is underneath him, whimpering and squirting.

His cock is so hard it hurts and he's leaked through his thin joggers, rubbing himself against your leg while he got you off. Now, as you come back to yourself, he pulls his dick out and jerks it rough and quick, licking his lips at the sigh of your glistening pussy that he can still taste in his mouth.

Your eyes flicker open to the sight of Nathan, pants pooled at his ankles, thick fingers wrapped around his dick. He was not lying. His cock is huge. Not comedically huge, like ridiculously, unfuckably huge, but definitely the thickest and longest you've ever had.

Not that you've had him. Yet.

Wetting your lips, you reach up to help him jerk off, which pulls a filthy string of curses from his lips. Pushing your fingers through his, you work up and down his shaft, bringing your other hand underneath him to cup his balls. He hisses and then groans as your tongue swirls over his leaking tip.

"If Daddy could see you now. Naked, on your knees, with my cock in your mouth. Fuck..."

You should be mad, or something. But you open your mouth wider and let Nathan push his cock all the way to the back of your throat, gagging as you swallow his tip. The most beautiful, dirty sounds you've ever heard from a man fall out of his lips as he thrusts a few times in rapid succession, praising and degrading you in the same sentence.

You can't breathe, tears burn your eyes, but through your cloudy vision, you can see his lips moving like a prayer, corded neck straining as he releases his hold in his dick and grips the nape of your neck, fucking your face, thrusting so hard you know your jaw will be sore for days.

You keep jerking him, fondling and caressing every bit of him that won't fit in your mouth. It's been a long time since you sucked a cock, and never one this big, but you keep taking it because he sounds weak for you and he's calling you his and telling you how good you feel.

Your mind fleetingly drifts to the safe word he gave you before he dove into your pussy: the one you shrugged off, as if he could possibly make you need it.

He scoffed at you. "Honey, if you don't wanna safeword tonight, I'm doing something wrong."

"Asshole," you huffed as he licked the first stripe between your folds, sending your head flying back and your mouth gasping.

You tap his leg forcefully three times and he instantly pulls out of your mouth as you gag and sputter, your weight falling forward. Bracing yourself on your hands, you drag in gulps of air, realizing that Nathan is above you finishing himself off, getting off on the fact that he's ruined you.

Hot spurts of come splatter across your bare shoulders and back. "Stay down," he orders, sent over the edge by the sight of you naked and on all fours. He unloads on you, painting your skin until he's spent. He flops back on the other end of the sofa, half naked, limp dick flopping as his eyes squeeze shut in bliss.

You're drenched in cum and sweat and your slick, filthy and somehow still wildly turned on. The thought fleetingly crosses your mind - that you wish Nathan would take your picture. Not to post, but it would just feel deliciously dirty to know he had a picture of your naked body, covered in his cum, that he could jerk off to.

"I should post a picture of you now," he lazily grins, reading your mind. "Really piss him off. Get banned from my own site."

You stand, hands landing on bare hips. "Are you going to mention my dad every time we fuck?"

He chuckles, standing to join you. "Have we even really fucked yet? Let's clean up. Our flight to Hawaii is in four hours."

"Hawaii again?" You gasp. "Nathan - "

"Look, you drive a hard bargain," he concedes, throwing his hands up. Reaching for his glasses, he kicks off his joggers off his ankles, now as naked as you. "Final offer: I'm already getting your dad's company. He's being fairly compensated. You still get your inheritance and you have generous stock in my company."

Inching forward, he reaches for the swell of your hips, pulling you flush against his muscled chest. "You get to ride my dick, you come with me to Hawaii, I get to post a selfie of us in bed together."

Your mouth drops open.

"Just from the shoulders up," he counters, before you can fire off a protest.

"I don't think I'm getting much out of this deal," you pout. "Your dick can't be that good."

"It is," he almost playfully assures you, nodding rapidly.

As you roll your eyes, he nibbles on your bottom lip. "Come on. I've never made this much effort for anyone."

"You hate my dad that much?"

"No. I want to fuck you that much."

"You're full of shit, Bateman."

"Smile." He snaps your picture. You dive for the phone, squealing at him not to post it. He has no intention of doing so, but attempting to wrestle the phone away from him is how you end up on his living room floor, riding his huge dick.

As your eyes roll back in your head while you're coming, Nathan smirks victoriously.

✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧ ---------- ✧

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[fluff-n-cookies]

more dad dabi head content?! you write it so welllll🥺🥺🥺

*sighs.* It's been a long day for me so im coping by speedrunign this. thanks for requesting, I appreciate you interacting with me more so than the usual like or comment.

Author notes under the cut as well as links

Warnings: FLUFF (mostly, 90%), not proof read, SPOILERS, minor swearing.

reader has blue eyes like Dabi's (she's a toddler, 3-4 years old)

Dabi calls reader bunny, Dabi is addressed as "Daddy"

---

Dabi would be such a good dad you cannot tell me otherwise.

I mean sure, some times he forgets things, that you have school the next morning, and most days he feels like shit for not being able to rent a proper apartment to house you in; forcing you to live in this tiny cupboard of drywall and rotten carpet because he simply can’t afford better. Yeah sure, he sometimes loses his temper and tells you to go wait in your room when he has his "coworkers" over or when the bad man is on TV. But the moment he sees discomfort, prickles of tears in your eyes

He will shut the ever loving fucking up and back away.

But I think what makes him the best dad is his undying will to protect you, usually from himself. He'll lock himself in his own room or take it out on civilians and other villains before even thinking about coming to you in such a god awful state.

however it's also important to note that he'd do just as heinous things if he finds something that's more of a threat then himself. AKA, Endeavor.

(I just realized that by typing the rest of this paragraph, I'd be spoiling the plot of part three, forget I ever said anything.)

So rather than speaking of the devil we'll talk about how much of a worrywart Dabi actually is at heart.

He spends every single waking minute, and every unconscious second, to worry about you. This man lives in constant paranoia. Truly, deep down in his heart he wants to bundle you up in bubble wrap and tuck you under 10 blankets so you'll never be cold. So it's quite unfortunate that he can never quite express these feelings to you or anyone for that matter, trauma and internalized fear of emotional vulnerability and all that.

As a result, he will often express this through odd gestures of- I'm not quite sure what exactly it is.

What he'll do is he'll stare at you for prolonged periods of time, memorize your every schedule, demand to know all your friends, he emails your teachers once a week at least to ask them about your academic and social whereabouts. Everyone thinks he's a helicopter parent, no, he's a fucking psychopath.

he might as well have a GPS tracker on you. of course you barely get a say in this. he's your darling father, he's been like this since you were born, he only does it because he loves you and wants to keep you safe. he doesn't want to hurt you, even if he does, he's always apologized right after.

Dabi is also a cheapskate. the world's greatest in fact. despite the IRS never collecting his taxes he will forever never have enough money, he spends most of his "paycheck" the money stolen from innocent civilians on your college funds. He fully plans on starting a new life in Europe after All For One takes over and enrolling you into a top college so you can get your education (that is if the educational system is still intact.)

this is also why he is a Dumpster Diver and Pro Thriftier on the weekends! Everything, and I mean everything, is probably vintage and from goodwill. I have nothing else to say about that.

However, this did cause you to be heavily bullied and ostracized at school. A school in the pretty subarubs of japan where everyone's parent were either middle class or above, where you, you came from a different district, with the worn down shoes and the badly done hair, so excited to meet your new classmates. And it's quite sad really, never having many friends and all that. Especially if you aren't fully Japanese and were of color. (shout out to all my POC readers!)

and of course this wouldn’t be a proper story without Dabi being a little shit, but that's the thing about Dad Dabi, he is never a little shit in front of his child. never had been and probably never will be. It primarily roots from this need of an acutal father figure that he never had (endeavor was more so a mentor and teacher and, of course, abuser rather rthan an actual father to him).

he's nothing but serious around you, hell, he barely even talks, only ever grunts and hums in response to whatever you're saying so you know that he's listening to you. you may think he doesn't care, but he remembers it all as best he can, scribbles it down in broken grammar on the back of newspapers because he can’t afford a proper phone nor nice clean printerpaper.

Honestly, Dabi's a good father. But he's heavily insecure about it, he truly wants to lock you up in a castle like the princess you are to him and keep you there until the ends of time.

And on a simmilair note, he refuses to let you became a "bad" person.

AKA, someone who doesn't respect others, someone who cusses a lot, someone that doesn't show gratidute when given something good in their life. the reason he does it is because he refuses to see the current version of himself in you, he refuses to even think about you being tainted. Refuses. In his deluded mind that version of you can never exist lest they kill him.

He's genuinely the most strict helicopter parent to ever parent.

I'm talking monitors you 24/7, enrolls you in every after school club with even the tiniest bit of academic advancement (chess club, book club, math team), and he sits down with you every night to work through homework, he only ever buys nutritious meals for you; even though they take up the majority of his budget, and he only eats after you've eaten, drowning himself in the shitty dollar menu fast food.

Of course, he rewards you heavily for your hard work. Every day, he praises you for all that you’ve accomplished,

“Aww, good job honey.”

“A+, very nice.”

“You got a B? Oh, you thought you’d get an A? It’s okay, I know you tried. a B is good too.”

It not the most encouraging thing in the world but he wants your to know that he cares, he’ll takes you out for ice cream at the end of every month and give you an allowance to spend 10 dollars for every A on your report card. (This takes a huge bite out of his budget, but he made you a promise… he can skip out on dinner a couple nights, it’ll be fine.)

so far, you've been doing so well in school, one of the best students in your school, one of the more kind and respectful too. it's just that... you're so shy, you practically cower in fear when you have to talk to your classmates, especially after the incident. (Part 3, anyone?)

Dabi also puts this persona on for you, this persona of a kind man who is just a tad bit odd looking. he puts on the facade of being a normal civilian with a stable job and okay-ish income just so you don't worry. With you, he’s soft and trustworthy and only wants the best for you. Even if he does make you upset, he says sorry afterwards, always. He loves you, at least, that’s what he tells you.

And though it's not something he really worries about now, he dreads the day you become a teenager, then you'll know why he spends his nights out when there's criminals on the lose, who fears the day you'll understand what the news means, the day you'll take the hero's side. He just doesn't have the resources to keep you hidden from the outside world long enough for this wretched war he's fighting to be over. For the mean time, he denies you of much context on what he actually does all day, it's quite easy to do such a thing; he only ever needs to divert your attention to something shiny or pretty, like those little unicorn toys that he bought you for your second birthday, bought them brand new unlike many of the other things he's gotten you over the years. But he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up for, you’re smart, incredibly so, it’s only a matter of time until you know who he actually is,

another thing that he fears is of you growing up, caring for a small child is one thing, but he fears the day that you'll become a complex human being capable of properly understanding your emotions and failing to understanding that he truly wants the best for you.

he'll sit in the darkness of the living room some nights, you tucked neatly away on the other side of the couch, fast asleep, you never could finish a movie night without falling asleep half way through. his breathing's heavy as he runs his mind through the thousands upon thousands of theoretical fights you two'll have when you get older. How you’ll want to distance yourself, how you’ll cry yourself to sleep some nights because you think he doesn’t love you. he can't handle it, he won't stand to be your enemy.

because one day, you'll be an adult, you'll want to leave him, and you'll never come back. he can't live with that, he simply won't. he sometimes thinks about killing himself so he won't live to see the day you no longer want him in your life.

OR, OR, ALTERNATIVELY.

ProHero Dad Dabi.

I have been thinking about Dabi's ProHero Au since forever now. think teenage father Dabi but he got a girl pregnant the moment he's out of high school. (those after graduation parties be crazyyyy) and now he genuinely doesn't know how to balance his home life and his career and his daughter.

and obviously, just obviously, he CANNOT tell his father, he's already worse than Shoto, he's not gonna go lower on the scale.

so despite being the highest climbing amateur Hero in the past 7 years, he takes the longest hiatus of his life just to figure all this father shit out. his first plan was to but the girl up for adoption, and then he realized it would fail the moment the media find out, then he thought maybe he could tell one of his friends to take care of her, one of the ladies who'd fallen head over heels for him back in high school, he'd charm them, marry them, and then make em' into a house wife to take care of his mistake child.

honestly, it was a pretty good idea until he truly did start to love his child. similar to the main timeline, ProHero Dabi realizes he wants to be a better father than the one he grew up with, he decides to keep the child and raise her as his own, etc.

But in this timeline, literally everything is reversed.

Dabi's loaded with that money that the government gives him or fighting off a couple measly thugs, pair that with the brand deals he gets offered every other minute, and the trust fund his daddy gave him to get him through the "rough years" as he called it, he's practically rolling in cash.

oh God, you are going to be such a brat growing up. Life handed to you on a silver spoon is nice. I'm talking luxury clothes, top private schools, an allowance bigger than the gods. and Dabi did It all cuz' he loves you.

and the media goes HAM over a teenage ProHero that already looks like a villain having a daughter with a stranger! the press goes wild over it, but the whole time, Dabi covers your little tiny face with his hand so the flashes of the cameras don't frighten you and calmly explains that he will not be taking any questions. he holds you tight to his chest the whole time.

But you know who as the most furious? ENJI. big guy cussed out Touya for 3 hours straight all while holding you, at first the refused to give his son any right to hold you let alone raise you! In Enji's eyes, his son is the most malicious thing to ever grace this planet, he drinks, he smokes, he has ten thousand tattoos and piercings along his burn marks to match, Dabi's essentially the devil, and he's not going to let him get anywhere close to his first ever grandchild and possible child prodigy that he can turn into his puppet! Rei and Fuyumi had to step in and try and convince Enji to let Dabi have you rather than file to take full custody of you with the promise if Dabi even showed hints of negligence towards you, he can take his son to court.

okay that the end of my rant. and please let me know if you want to know more about pro hero Dabi from me.

---

For those who don't know, this post is related to these

Pt 1, Pt 2

my stuff is right here: Bnha master list, rules for requesting, ask box

Note: YA'LL READ MY RULES FOR REQUESTING DAMN. I GOT 2 ANONS (more than my usual of 0) AND BOTH OF THEM ASKED FOR ROMANTICS (I DO NOT WRITE ROMANTICS)

please, please, read a writers rules, please follow them, and thank you to this anon who decided to be reasonable BECAUSE MAYBE THEY READ THE RULES BEFORE DECIDING TO ASK LIKE YOU"RE SUPPOSED TO THIS HAS HAPPENED NEARLY EVERY TIME I GET AN ASK.

taglist: @blurryperrtymoonlight @harkenizalone @lostiolite @rllytriedrn @mellyxqz @cupkiki @xxnessinessiellexx @dehlieee @frog-fans-unite @rian1023 @aikobabe @double-gs @mitsuki3123 @wolvwa @red4-0

[popopretty]

BSD Chapter 105.5

"In the Narrow Room - the Later Part"

I love this chapter so much I have no words T_T Dazai is so precious I would trade the world for him!!

Please note that I typed it out very quickly while being hyped with neither English nor Japanese as my native language, so I might make mistakes here and there. Please forgive me I can't think really straight right now ;v;

SPOILERS AHEAD

Sigma tells Dazai that he cannot believe that Dazai is a normal person because he just single-handedly took down Fyodor, and asks Dazai why he chose him in the beginning instead of all the other usable tools (;v;). Dazai tells him there are 2 reasons, first is Sigma can act as Kunikida's replacement, because it would be very boring if there is no one there to be in awe and admire what Dazai did there. Sigma gets mad at Dazai and assumes that Dazai thinks he is not worthy enough to share the truth. Dazai corrects him saying that is not true, and that Dazai doesn't share anything with him because it's hard for him to understand, especially after he has been used by Tenningosui and others this whole time.

Dazai then decides to share one thing with Sigma and asks him if his ability to switch information works on dead people. Sigma confirms he can, as long as they have not been dead for a very long time. Dazai explains that he wants Sigma to use that ability on Fyodor (who is assumed dead at that point) to read his plan after that and save the ADA at the airport. Sigma is surprised Dazai did everything that he did only to save the ADA, and the words from people who used him in the past starts echoing in his head.

Dazai and Sigma get on an elevator to get to the room where Fyodor is supposed to be drown. While they are waiting, Sigma asks Dazai what is the second reason for Dazai to choose him, to which Dazai nonchalantly answers that if he didnt choose Sigma, Sigma would be silenced by Fyodor or Gogol later. Sigma is shocked, trying to confirm Dazai's intention to save him but Dazai doesn't say no more. Sigma starts to wonder what kind of place is the ADA. He thought Dazai was the same as those guys who used him, but he feels something different now. He thinks about how he wants a home, where he is not used by anyone, and he realizes that, the ADA is not using Dazai, and Dazai is not using the ADA either.

Dazai notices something is strange because the elevator is taking too long. Suddenly the evelator stop and they hear the voice of the time freezing skill user on the radio, begging for her life. Fyodor is seen alive with Chuuya, shooting her dead. Fyodor then tells Dazai over the radio that he is surprised, not by the flooding, but by the fact that Dazai and his 7-year partner's bond was so shallow that Dazai think Chuuya's ability cannot deal with that flood. He reveals that he has had Chuuya break and distort the track/rail of each partition wall when they entered. That way, it will prevent the doors to close properly, letting the water leak outside and allowing them to easily escape. He then says that if one cannot even think of that, they do not have enough qualification to use the gravity manipulation.

Sigma does not get why Fyodor could do that, Dazai then explains to him that Fyodor must have put one of his vampire among the guards, and when he couldn't contact with that vampire anymore, he was able to guess that the control room has been taken. It also means that Fyodor has already been in control of Mersault way before Dazai took his action.

Fyodor admits he was caught by surprirse with the attack though, and even though it is seemingly a suitable trial for a servant of God like him, he is weak and cannot stand it if he catches a cold, so he wants to return the favor by making Dazai and Sigma go through the same trial. After he says so, the elevator starts to be filled with water. The two of them try to get out as the door being locked and Fyodor praying for them to be held in the hands of God.

The chapter ends here. Next issue will be released on March 3 (Japan time). Thanks for reading till the end <3

[alittlebitofloveliness]

The Outsiders Prompt Fic #12- I didn't know where else to go

This is for @ramennoodlezzzao3 who requested prompt eight with Ponyboy. Sorry for the wait, I hope you like this. I wrote it sleep deprived after work and it's unedited so I apologiz wfor any typos.

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

Tap. Tap. Tap.

When Curly first hears the tapping on the window he thinks it’s his beloved Princess Chunko, aka the raccoon he’s been feeding and attempting to train for the past six months ever since Tim told him off for feeding her- the poor thing was a single mom who worked two jobs and Curly wasn’t heartless. He wasn’t about to let his girl down, ok?- and Angela said you couldn’t teach a raccoon tricks because ‘they aren’t like dogs, dumbass’. Shows what she knows. Curly’s managed to almost get Princess Chunko to shake his hand on command (she’ll do just about anything for leftover fries from McDonald’s), and she’s only bit him like, three times. 

However, when he pulls back the curtain (thank god Angel’s sleeping at her new boyfriend’s place tonight because she would be beyond pissed to get woken at one in the morning) it’s not his beloved furry princess he sees, instead it’s his beautiful, very human and also male princess. 

Right. He’s gotta be cool about this. Smart. Suave. Pony’s never come here so late at night before. Curly isn’t exactly at his best right now- he’d been planning to shower in the morning so he still smells like the desperation of high school and whatever boozy concoction Ma had thrown at him earlier- but he isn’t gonna like, turn Ponyboy down if he’s come here for a hookup. He’s not that stupid.

Except when he throws open the window he catches sight of the pure misery on Ponyboy’s face and all impure thoughts fly out of his head. (Ok, maybe not all of them- he’s a simple man and Ponyboy is Ponyboy and he’s also right there-  but  Curly is again not heartless so like 98% of the impure thoughts are banished. Maybe 97%.)

“Hey Ponyboy!”

Pony runs a hand through his hair. He sighs, and the sound is so tired it could give Tim a run for his money.

“Hey Curly, can I-” his eyes get shiny but he blinks hard and they’re normal again, “can I come in?”

Curly doesn’t bother answering, just grabs his best-friend-maybe-boyfriend-but we-haven’t-had-that-talk-yet-but-also-kiss-and-stuff under the arms and half drags, half lifts him through the window. Curly thanks his unlucky stars that Angel’s mattress is under the window because this was not an elegant maneuver, and Pony landed right on top of him. Like, right on top of him. Curly isn’t exactly complaining because this close he can see the freckle near Pony’s hairline and smell his toothpaste and whatever shampoo he uses, but Pony also completely knocked the wind out of him, and Curly’s is also a fifteen year old boy and attracted to Ponyboy so if Pony doesn’t move soon a different problem is going to make itself known and Curly cannot let that happen or he’ll have to jump off a bridge.

He shoves Pony off of him as gently as he can without being soft, and leads him over to his own side of the room. Angel will already be pissed enough that he was on her side of the room, nevermind the fact it was just to open the window, and Curly doesn’t want to add fuel to the fire. Sure, he loves making Angela angry but she also took a razorblade to his favourite hoodie last week and Curly isn’t willing to risk her ire right now. Things with the boyfriend she’s currently staying with are slowly but surely falling apart and Angela going through a breakup is a dangerous creature. Even Tim steers clear of her as best he can during her anger phase, and then they both decide to be a little nicer when Angel moves on to grief. 

Pony sits next to him and Curly wonders if he should’ve put a bottom sheet on his mattress, then banishes the thought because it’s stupid and because he doubts there’s a bottom sheet anywhere in the house- angel bought her own and guards it viciously. Still, he can’t help the anxiety bubbling in his chest. Pony is in his room, sitting on his bed. In all the time they’ve been hanging out he doesn’t think Pony has ever been in his room. And they’ve certainly never been alone in his room- or in Ponyboy��s for that matter since Sodapop Curtis is the world's most annoying cockblock and one of these days Curly is really gonna slug him.

Fortunately- or unfortunately, he really isn’t sure- Pony seems oblivious to Curly’s internal turmoil. In fact, he seems kind of oblivious to everything, staring blankly at the wall and biting his lip hard enough it might start to bleed soon. 

Rude, Curly thinks, if someone’s gonna be biting ponyboy’s lips tonight it should be him.

It’s kind of worrisome though. It;s not like Ponyboy’s the more, well, present even on a good day, prone to daydreaming and getting all focused in a way Curly doesn’t understand, but this seems different, worse somehow. The misery is still written across Ponyboy’s face, but there's an undercurrent of anger there too, and beneath that, fear.

“You good, man?” Curly’s never been great with emotions, never understood his own or wanted to help with others. He wants to help Pony now though, he just doesn’t know what to say. “You uh, you need anything?”

“No- yes- I dunno.” Ponyboy shakes his head, curling in on himself, and no, nope, if he bunches up it’s like he gets even more stuck in his own head and Curly refuses to let that happen so he yanks him until Pony’s head is resting against his shoulder, his arm around the guy’s admittedly very nice shoulders. “I didn’t know where else to go, I just- I couldn’t stay there. Not tonight. Can I stay with you?”

“Of course,” Curly agrees immediately. There’s a whole host of reasons why and he’s sure some of them are good but the only important one is the thought of Ponyboy Curtis sleeping in his room with him, “why though? Didya finally get tired of Sodacan cockblockin’ us?”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, expecting Ponyboy to roll his eyes but snicker like he usually does when Curly makes a suggestive joke, but instead he just sighs, his eyes getting all sad again.

“In your dreams Shepard,” he says, “but nah, it’s nothing like that, just…Darry and Soda are fighting.”

Curly blinks. That’s what Ponyboy is upset about? His family fighting? If Curly got sad anytime people were fighting in his house he’d have died of heartbreak years ago. Shit, Ma hadn’t gone a day without swearing at them in years, and Tim had told him just this morning he was a waste of space. Last month, he and Angel hadn’t spoken for over a week after she tattled on him to Tim about his plan to get into Buck’s race fixing scheme. 

Then again, the Curtis family- even their gang- wasn’t much like his own. They weren’t soft exactly, but they weren’t cold neither, which was something Curly had got used to at a very young age. Ponyboy on the other hand…well, he doesn’t have much ice in him at all.

“They’ve been mad at each other for days, and tonight it’s like they just blew up,” Pony continues, “like a match in a powder keg. They’ve been yelling off and on for hours, and everytime they start to shout it gets worse. They hardly even noticed when I left.”

“Darry won’t be pleased you ran off,” curly points out. He’s not good at emotions but he is good at being practical, at least when he’s trying to think like Angela, and he knows Darry Curtis will be mad if Ponyboy comes home late or not at all. Curly thinks the guy needs to lighten up a bit. One murder wrap when Pony didn;t even kill the guy shouldn’t mean he needs to be supervised 24/7. Darry needs to lighten up.

Ponyboy rolls his eyes.

“Shit man, you sound like Two-bit. I left a note alright? And if they’re really that worried they can get over themselves and come and find me.”

“What are they arguin’ about anyway?”

That was apparently the wrong question to ask because Pony’s face shutters again.

“That’s the whole problem! I dunno! I can’t figure it out and I listened to them argue awhile. It got real personal real quick, whatever they started arguin’ about probably isn’t why they’re mad now.”

“I’m sorry man,” Curly says, and he is. Rarely is it that he feels any sort of sympathy for other people’s issues, but Ponyboy curtis is not just anyone. In fact, he’s maybe the best person Curly knows, and he doesn’t deserve his house to feel like Curly’s does. The Curtis’ are supposed to be better than that. Ponyboy is supposed to have better than that.

Curly knows there isn’t much he can do. There never is, and with his penchant for fucking shit up he’s rarely trusted with even meaningless things let alone important ones, so he’s not usually armed with the skills to help anyone. However, in this situation, Curly knows what to do because it’s something he wished for every day or his childhood, and something that was never really provided to him no matter how hard Tim sometimes tried. 

Tonight, he can keep Pony safe.

“You can stay here,” he promises, scrubbing a hand through Ponyboy’s hair as an excuse to feel how soft it is without grease in it, “whenever you want. Just show up.”

“Really?”

“‘Course.”

That earns him a smile, a real one, the kind that makes Ponyboy sort of glow and Curly kind of want to kiss him and combust and jump out a window all at the same time.

“Thanks.” Pony murmurs, and Curly feels himself grin when Pony settles his head back on his shoulder, exhaustion returning.

Curly lets himself grin as he maneuvers them so that they’re squished together on his lumpy single mattress. It’s not the most comfortable position- Ponyboy is half on top of him and not in a fun way, his bony elbow jammed into Curly’s ribs, and his hair tickling his nose, but Curly wouldn't change it for the world.

Ponyboy is already gone when he wakes up the next morning, but that’s alright, Curly expected it, just like he expected the call that came when he was making breakfast and the light that has returned to Pony’s eyes when he sees him at school.

The Curtis house isn’t supposed to be like his own, and it isn’t. Ponyboy wouldn’t ever look this relaxed if it was. 

Even still, Curly reasons, it can’t hurt to keep his window unlatched. Just in case. 

[16eggsforxio]

did you know?

Joshua Rosfield x Reader

5340 words, fluff

Summary: Word on the street was the Archduke had a favourite amongst the Shields of Rosaria.

(AU where Rosaria is somehow defended and that bitch Anabella dies too. god I hate her so much)

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

The room felt oddly cold, for one that housed the Warden of Fire.

“I must apologise, but I cannot accede to your request at this point in time.”

You’d seen the man knelt before Joshua many times before. His silvery hair was styled rather asymmetrically, braided on the left and loose on the right, so his appearance particularly stood out to you. Not that you quite remembered his name or who he was, apart from being a representative of Waloed. Joshua always treated him dismissively, and so did you.

His demeanour was usually placid, but you observed the way his shoulders were much too tense. Without raising his head, he slowly said, “I implore you, Lord Rosfield—my master grows weary of waiting. Surely you could entertain a single meeting with him?”

Right, the King of Waloed had been wanting to meet Joshua for a while now. In the past year, this man whose name you did not remember showed up like clockwork every month, bringing the same request every time and going home with the same rejection every time. You recalled that in the beginning these requests had been sent via mail, but after one too many times of Joshua putting it aside on his desk and saying I’ll respond to him later nonchalantly, this nameless man started showing up at Rosalith Castle’s doorstep.

“Please understand, Sir Harbard—I would love to speak with your king, but my duties as the Archduke have my hands full.” Oh, his surname was Harbard. Joshua clasped his hands on his lap. “As I have mentioned before, at the earliest opportunity, I will be more than happy to arrange something with him. But now simply isn’t a good time.”

Your neck felt a little itchy, but you resisted the urge to rub it for the sake of looking professional.

This time, Harbard raised his head, brows creased. “Forgive my saying so, but this cannot wait any longer.”

“And you must forgive me as well, as my answer would have to remain the same.”

Harbard’s once composed gaze morphed into something resembling a glare, but not quite yet. “I must warn you that my king is not above the means of using aggression as a form of communication—”

He didn’t get to finish speaking. In the next second you were in front of him, sword unsheathed and the tip of its blade prodding his throat, almost provoking him to continue speaking. For the first time he looked up at you, meeting your blank gaze.

“Commander, please…” Joshua called placatingly from behind you.

Your retreat wasn’t explicitly ordered, but you knew that was what he meant. Of course, you’d only been following what you were taught—subdue all imminent threats before they become a real danger—but following the Archduke’s words preceded that, so you wordlessly sheathed your sword and backed away to your original position behind Joshua.

Joshua just waved a hand to signal the end of his audience. “Thank you for your warning, but I suppose this concludes our meeting. Please relay my words to your king.”

Harbard looked like he was biting back a retort, but he pulled a graceful smile taut on his lips and rose to his feet. “Of course. I thank you for your attention.”

He turned to the door to leave. The two guards standing by the exit stepped forward to flank his side, escorting him out of the room. You wondered if you should follow in the event that he caused any trouble, but your assignment was to stay by the Archduke’s side, so your eyes trailed after him as the doors shut on their backs. He’d be back, evidently, be it in a peaceful or hostile manner the next time.

With the guest gone, you finally took the opportunity to stretch your stiff limbs, before glancing over at Joshua. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to keep ignoring him?”

Joshua looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I have yet to ascertain their goal, so it’s best to refrain from doing anything with him for now.”

“He just threatened you with war, though.”

“If his goal was conquest, then his loyal servant wouldn’t be here every month to beg for an audience.” He leaned forward, palm cradling his cheek. “And he has yet to turn up personally. He seems to want to meet elsewhere—anywhere but Rosaria. Is he looking to create a distraction? Or could he have another goal?”

You snort. “He sounds rather annoying.”

“Better annoying than dangerous.” Joshua stood up from his seat, and you toddled along to his side. “I’ve ordered investigations on it, but it’s still too early to say anything.”

That was a first. “Investigations by who?”

He regarded you with a coy smile, which you had learned he did when he was about to feed you a half-truth. “Secret subordinates.” Then he raised a hand and pinched you on the cheek. Not enough to hurt, but you winced in surprise. “But I must say, threatening one of our guests’ life at the first provocation? You could stand to be a little less protective.”

It was against the regulations to defy the Archduke, and you assumed pulling away from him counted as that, so you settled for a grumble. “It’s my duty…”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Joshua made for the doors, and you followed him closely to exit.

By tradition, the First Shield was the one who was always by the Phoenix’s side. That would be his brother, Clive, and not you, a regular commander. And it would’ve been so if Clive hadn’t awoken as Ifrit, which had led to Clive often being dispatched to all over Valisthea instead. You weren’t privy to the exact details, but he’d been investigating the Blight and the Mothercrystals and also settling some scuffles as a sign of diplomacy. He’d become just as important and prominent as the Archduke himself, and he was also not burdened with illness, so he often took more trips out in Joshua’s place.

It wasn’t official, but you seemed to always be the stand-in personal guard for Joshua whenever Clive was gone, and attended to your regular duties whenever he had returned. Although, more and more often you would have to be with Joshua even when Clive was back, and you would see him accompanying Jill. You didn’t really mind. It wasn’t a difficult position. If anything, you seemed to be around less for Joshua’s protection and more for his entertainment.

“Did you know that these flowers used to be ground and used for cosmetics?” Joshua gestured to a row of bushes lining the corridor on the side.

“Oh?”

“Then they were claimed to cause rashes, so their purpose in recent times are purely decorative.”

“I didn’t know that.”

You felt like your duty was actually to just stand around and listen to him babble about something or other that he’d read or heard the other day. You didn’t mind it that much.

Joshua turned his head to face you. You kept your eyes trained in front so the both of you didn’t walk into something. “My brother should be returning tonight or tomorrow morning.”

Really? You felt like he hadn’t left long ago. “So soon?”

“It’s been a few weeks, actually,” Joshua corrected. Then, mischievously: “Perhaps you’ve become too accustomed to my side?”

You held his arm and guided him around a corner before he could walk into a wall, then let go of it. “No, I must’ve just lost track of time.”

“Yes, of course,” he agreed, and not sounding like he agreed with you at all. His tone soon turned sour. “We also have to discuss that ball coming up, so after he’s returned, you may return to your regular position for the time being.”

It was no secret that Joshua was not a fan of parties, but unfortunately, his ancestors must have been. They’d made it a tradition to celebrate the day of the formation of the Grand Duchy of Rosaria, which had been established by the unification of several small independent provinces. And perhaps to highlight this very undertone of strength in numbers, they usually invited people and nobles from all over Valisthea. Waloed was most likely not on the guest list, to the king’s probable chagrin. Neither of the Rosfield brothers were inclined to the idea of the grand ball, but breaking a tradition that had been upheld for generations would be alarming at best, so they begrudgingly put up with it.

Two soldiers were stationed along the corridor. Upon seeing the both of you, they saluted. You bowed your head and Joshua nodded at them.

“I had heard preparations for that were already completed,” you said idly.

“For the most part, yes. But events like these attract droves of people from all over Valisthea, and I can assure you a good portion of our men would be too lost in the sense of celebration to be on guard.” He walked closer to you, bumping his arm against your shoulder. In a lower voice, he continued, “Wouldn’t it be so tempting to break through using that window, if you were the enemy?”

You stared ahead at the nearest corner to turn at. “You said Waloed wouldn’t turn aggressive.”

“It’s unlikely, not impossible.”

Ugh. You wished you had lopped off that—what was his name again?—asymmetrically-haired man’s head back there, though more out of frustration than as a calculated move. Every time you heard about Waloed, you had to stifle a groan.

The scurrying of footsteps sounded up ahead. A servant rounded the bend, panting with a jog, envelope clutched in their hand. When he caught sight of Joshua, he lit up and straightened his hunched back, slowing his pace drastically.

“Your Grace.” He halted and then bowed, stretching out both arms to present the envelope to him. It was a little crumpled. “This is addressed to you. It says it’s urgent.”

Joshua stopped in front of him, and you mimicked his action. He peered over at the envelope curiously. It was indeed addressed to him, with a very tacky looking URGENT, and signed off by Cid.

“Ah, it’s from Cid.” The name was unfamiliar to you. Joshua plucked the envelope from the servant’s hands between two fingers. “Thank you.”

After hastily bowing again, the servant retreated the way he had come. Joshua hummed and pocketed the envelope, looking not at all ruffled by a letter that supposedly conveyed an emergency, and continued strolling down the corridor.

Puzzled, you skittered to catch up with him. “Are you not going to open it now? It’s urgent, isn’t it?”

Joshua looked down at you, gait uninterrupted and unbothered. “Oh, Cid always writes that. If it were truly urgent, he’d have sent someone.”

You frowned and cocked your head. “What kind of person is he?”

He chuckled, ruffling the hair on the top of your head. “Wouldn’t you like to know, my dearest commander?”

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

Clive had returned, so the next day, as usual, you were discharged to regular commander duties.

The open sky scrolled overhead, clouds dotting over them like merry sheep in an azure field. A breezy zephyr trilled its way around the castle courtyards; present enough to be pleasant, but not strong enough to mess up your hair and get in the way. Grunts and laughter from soldiers sparring, harmonised with the hard sound of wooden sword against wooden sword, echoed and bounced off the walls eagerly.

You readjusted your grip on the wooden handle of your sword and wiped away a dribble of sweat on your chin with the back of your hand.

The soldier in front of you swung down at you again, an action that you had seen from miles away, and blocked it with a parry of your own sword.

Too slow to catch you off guard, and not strong enough to knock you off balance. You opened your mouth to give feedback, but before you could get any words out, he spoke first.

“Say, Commander, is there anything going on with you and the Archduke?”

You let go of the parry, swinging away from the arc of his remaining slash and throwing his balance forward and momentum off, then completed your spin by slamming the flat side of the wooden sword at his knees. He yelped and collapsed sideways, and you had more than enough time to direct the blunt edge of the blade against his neck, stopping just short of nicking it.

He winced. “Not the prodigy commander for no reason, eh?”

“Distraction is fatal in battle, you know,” you remarked, bumping the sword against his jaw before stepping away.

He huffed, recovering from the shock and moving to sit on his bum on the dirt. “That wasn’t a real battle, y’know.”

“I should pray that you don’t think up of some rubbish like that in a real battle.”

“Grumpy as always…” But he had some sort of stupid amused grin on his face. You offered a hand and helped to pull him to his feet. “Well, what’s your answer?”

You raised your wooden sword so that it was level to your face, smoothing out the dented edges. “I don’t answer nonsensical questions.”

“C���mon, don’t pretend,” he continued drawling. “He only ever asks you to stand in for the First Shield, out of all our commanders. And he’s a nice guy and all, y’know, but he doesn’t talk even a quarter as much to any of us than he does to you. Hard to not notice.”

Tapping on your palm with the sword, you furrowed your brows at him. “That’s strange. I hit you in the knees, so why are you acting like I hit you on the head?”

“But he’s right, Commander,” some other dastardly nosy soldier piped up, obviously not busy training and eavesdropping on you two instead. You turned to the soldier who was resting by the fence a few feet away. “We can keep a secret!”

“There’s nothing going on. I know my place.”

“What about him? Don’t you think he fancies you?”

You looked at him incredulously. “What sort of rumours have been going around? Shouldn’t I report this as insubordination?”

You wouldn’t, and they also knew you wouldn’t, so the soldier carried on. “His Grace has never shown interest in anyone else, right? You’ve been with him for pretty long, right?”

A decade? Maybe a little more than that? You hadn’t actually cared to count. You’d been brought in to train as a knight after some of the adults had witnessed your spectacular talent in combat, but during the Night of Flames, you had still been a child, and had been protected from the battle like one. Afterwards, you only heard the tale via word of mouth. The battle between Ifrit and Phoenix had somehow wreaked enough havoc to force the enemy to retreat, and then the story became ambiguous from there. But Rosalith successfully defended itself, albeit suffering heavy losses. Clive had awoken after a few weeks, and Joshua after a few years, but both of them had slept through the angry mob of Rosaria, rioting against their mother’s betrayal and then burning her at the stake. Probably for the better that they hadn’t witnessed that.

By the time Joshua had awoken, you’d already clawed your way up in the ranks of knighthood. With both brothers being able to prime, it seemed unwise to have them stuck together all the time, so even as the First Shield, Clive often went off elsewhere. You hadn’t been a commander at that time, but with the sad dregs left of the Rosarian army and your outstanding capabilities, they’d assigned you to guard him anyway.

“I don’t think so… what do you mean by ‘been with’?”

Before they could spout anymore of their foolery, you heard someone call you from a distance. You turned to the direction of the source and found Joshua and Clive, standing under the shelter of the corridor, waving you over.

“Speak of the devil,” the soldier you’d been sparring with mused.

You shot him a dirty look before traipsing over to them.

Sometimes when Clive had just returned at the gates of Rosalith, he would look very tired and very haggard, so seeing him in freshly pressed and blood-free clothes was always nice. You weren’t as familiar with him as you were with Joshua, so you took care to bow first, and he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

“I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?” Joshua tilted his head at you.

“No, you came at a good time.” Saved you from them becoming more aggressive in trying to wrangle anything out of you.

He raised a hand and placed it on top of your head. “You must’ve been working hard. Have a rest.” You heard the telltale jingle, and the Phoenix’s flames of rejuvenation washed over you. The soreness in your muscles melted away and every nerve in you sparked with renewed life. “I thought I should let you know first—I’ll need you to be with me during the ball. My brother has… other matters to attend to.”

Other matters probably being that Jill had a free hand and no dance partner that night, if you had to hazard a guess. “I see.”

“This wouldn’t pose any problems, would it?” He removed his hand from your head.

If he didn’t need you, you’d probably be stationed elsewhere outside for guard duty, anyway. “Not at all.”

“Thank you for taking care of my brother all the time.” Clive’s smile always looked genuine.

You nodded. “It’s my pleasure.”

“If he’s being too pushy or causing you any problems, you can come straight to me. I’ll handle it.”

“Clive…” Joshua protested.

“Of course, I will.”

Joshua made a sulky expression, evidently displeased that the two of you had turned on him. Clive patted him on the shoulder unhelpfully, then steered him away and left you to return to your sparring. A non-issue for you, since Joshua had eased away all your scrapes and fatigue from your earlier session.

Touching the top of your head with your own hand, you stared after their retreating backs.

You’d admit to no one but yourself that you were a little curious.

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

Although, being curious and actually getting answers were two different things.

Having seen it for years by now, the grand ball celebrating the formation of Rosaria didn’t quite faze you anymore, but it would always be quite the sight. Joshua had once described it as a garden steeped in a myriad of colours, sprawling with diversity, and you had thought he was waxing too much poetry, but he was right. Even though they were all dressed for the same event, it was obvious even to your unrefined eye; the differences in their updos, the cuts in their garments, the way they were poised and how they interacted—they came together as an amalgamation you could only awe at from a distance. You’d never see a sight like this anywhere else in Valisthea.

Though, to you, that was just what it was reduced to: at best, a lively sight. All the guests here could enjoy themselves, but you were more attentive to how a man draped in white stumbled a little too close to the table, a woman hiding something under the fluffy layers of her skirt (it was food), a particularly rugged man lingering far too long at the utensils. No one noticed how you were watching them like a hawk, and if they glanced in your direction, their focus would probably fall on the Archduke sitting diagonally in front of you.

Speaking of him, he turned in his chair and touched your idle fingers. You glanced down at him from where you stood. “Don’t be so tense, dear commander.”

“It’d be troublesome for me if you suddenly got assassinated.”

He smiled at you, amused. “That’s very unlikely. Something like that would reward the perpetrator with nothing but hostility from the whole of Valisthea.”

In particular, you were looking out for any silver-haired man with a strange asymmetrical haircut. The Kingdom of Waloed was like a boisterous child who had no problem stirring up trouble with anyone and everyone.

You also knew Joshua was so stubborn that he put every mule to shame, so you just said, “Right, of course.”

Your gaze briefly fell on a mop of black hair amongst the sea of people, followed by a swish of cascading grey hair. Clive and Jill seemed oblivious to everything around them and had that silly drunk smile at each other despite being completely sober. (Clive had promised not to drink, should anything happen.) In the past, there would be droves of women flocking to Clive’s side—you supposed he seemed a tad more approachable without the title of Archduke—but in recent years, Jill would never leave his side at parties. The envious eyes that followed her didn’t escape your notice, but it was Jill, so she could handle herself.

Fingers grasping Joshua’s hand, you guided it back towards the tabletop. Without releasing it, you blinked down at him. “When do you suppose the First Shield is going to announce his engagement to Lady Jill?”

Joshua fixed you with wide eyes. “They aren’t engaged.”

“Why aren’t they? They behave like they are.”

“Well…” Joshua was mulling over it like trying to explain an advanced concept to a child. You definitely weren’t a child, though. “He will in due time, I suppose? There have been a lot of unsettling matters as of late. I expect he will once things settle down.”

At this rate, you thought Jill just might take the reins into her own hands. You cocked your head silently and let go of Joshua’s hand and stood up straight again.

It probably wasn’t good practice to be chatting with a Shield so long in front of guests, after all. Most of them had already greeted Joshua, so they weren’t paying much attention to either of you. If it were the time for politics, they certainly would be, but in the time of party and dancing they would much rather relax and soak in the atmosphere elsewhere. He did speak to some of them briefly whenever he got up to serve himself more food (he refused to let a servant help him with that) but you thought it was probably to distract others from the fact that he was demolishing the desserts. Even now he was delicately slicing at a gargantuan piece of chocolate cake.

Your eyes followed a lady who was regarding her dance partner with a giddy smile.

“You aren’t interested in getting engaged, Your Grace?”

Joshua coughed loudly.

“Did you not take your medicine again?” You started digging in your pocket. The healer always left you some whenever you were assigned to him.

He raised a hand, the other covering his mouth, and you paused. The look he gave you after was almost exasperated. “Why… Why are you curious about that?”

“You are of age, but you always turn down any nobles interested in talks of becoming betrothed.”

“That’s… true, but…” The well-spoken Archduke was floundering for words.

“And you don’t appear to be interested in courting anyone, either.”

“I don’t?”

“No?”

Joshua looked at you flatly.

You frowned. “Are you perhaps interested in men?”

Reaching for a napkin, Joshua dabbed at the corner of his mouth even though it was clean. “Could I ask that we table this conversation for later?” He seemed to have composed himself.

A low, outsider voice interjected, “No, no, now I’m awfully curious, too. What’s your answer? Your Grace?”

You barely had time to scold yourself for losing focus on your original task, hand whipping to the hilt of your sword. Your stance was interrupted by Joshua leaping out of his seat, eyes big with pleasant surprise at the man in front of his table. He held a hand out for a handshake. “Cid! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then, after a brief pause, he added, “I don’t recall sending you an invite.”

Vaguely recalling that was the name of the person who’d sent Joshua a not-urgent letter, you scanned him up and down. His attire seemed entirely too casual and it was apparent that he hadn’t made any effort to dress for the occasion, and the smell of alcohol was radiating off of him, but his posture and every muscle seemed far too relaxed. He didn’t seem in a good condition to attack, anyhow.

“You didn’t,” Cid affirmed, grasping his hand back. “I’m quite hurt.”

“I apologise, but having an outlaw around here seemed less than ideal.” Joshua was in correspondence with an outlaw? “But you’re already here, I suppose. Did you come here in search of something?”

Cid waved a hand dismissively. “Not tonight, Lord Rosfield. Tonight I’ll be but a simple man luxurying in life’s simplest and greatest pleasures.” He must be here for the free ale, judging by the sloshing mug in his other hand.

Maybe Joshua didn’t catch on to that, because he looked a little confused. “I see.”

Turning his attention to you instead, Cid extended a hand for another handshake. “This young lady here glowering at me must be the Shield I’ve heard so much of.”

If you really had been glowering at him, you were sure your expression was now a perplexed one. Hesitantly, you accepted his firm hand. “You’ve heard about me?”

Cid shrugged. “Genius knight, one of the youngest ever to achieve the title of a commander, the most favoured of the Ar—”

Joshua suddenly batted at Cid’s hand like a cat did at something unpleasant, breaking the grip between the two of you. Wearing a very taut smile, he circled around the table and placed a hand on Cid’s shoulder. “It’s been a while since you’ve last seen my brother, Cid. Would you like to go greet him?”

Cid grinned at him knowingly. “I never pegged you as a coy one. But it would be my utmost pleasure to, Lord Rosfield.”

The two of them pulled off into the crowd, and you plodded after them carefully. The idea of an outlaw roaming around in the walls of Rosalith didn’t sit quite right with you, but no one seemed to be paying him any heed, so maybe it was okay? There was an unspoken rule of no conflict or violence at this celebration of unity as well, so perhaps anyone with grievances against him would hold it back just for tonight.

They located Clive, and shared a few words that you didn’t fully listen to, with your eyes trained on the surrounding people instead. You only caught whiffs of information like how this uncouth man was actually the Dominant of Ramuh, and they had some plan or other that involved the Mothercrystals and the Blight. If it was something you needed to be involved in, Joshua would tell you, so you tuned out their drones and honed in on your task.

After a while, when they had finished, Cid wandered off again outside for a smoke, and Clive and Jill retired themselves into a secluded balcony. Joshua turned to you, tugging on your hand.

“If you feel worn out, I could call someone to stand in for you.”

This was hardly anything. “I would be more concerned about yourself.”

The rest of the night passed without incident. It was a good thing all of Joshua’s concerns had been unfounded. The guests streamed out of the ballroom in trickles, and you followed Joshua as he went to bid them farewell at the castle gates. It must’ve been hours past midnight by the time they had all left, and although you were accustomed to long working hours, the same probably didn’t go for Joshua’s poorer constitution.

Unexpectedly, he inclined his head towards you. “Would you care to go on a little walk with me in the gardens?”

You sighed. “I wouldn’t be able to convince you to retire for the night, would I?”

Joshua pretended to give it some thought. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Then I don’t quite have a choice here.”

The stars behind in the sky decorated his almost cheeky smile, and you took you by the hand and started towards the empty gardens.

Servants and soldiers would be bustling here in the day, traipsing from one end to the other, tending to the plants, or simply taking a breather under the benevolent shelter of the gazebo. Somehow, after the Night of Flames, you felt like the gardens were even brighter, every stem and leaf spruced to verdant life. Stoned pathways snaked their way through the blanket of grass, but whoever had laid them out had done a good job in making them feel like decorations rather than an intrusion.

You knew this place like the back of your hand, but your interest was piqued again when you found a familiar flower, red petals curved outwards as if stretching lazily.

Slowing your pace, you gestured to it. “That’s the one you said used to be ground for cosmetics, right?”

Joshua’s gaze followed your hand, and he stifled a laugh. “Did you know you’re the only one who remembers everything I say?”

“It sounds a little depressing when you put it that way, so please don’t.”

“But it’s true.” He reached out to you, cupping your cheeks with his hands and angling your head upwards to face him. You didn’t flinch. “Also, did you know you’re a very important person to me?”

The moonlight made his golden locks glisten white.

You reached up to grab his wrists. “Of course, I knew that.”

His look softened. “Would my very important commander allow me to have this dance?”

This time, you averted your eyes. “I don’t know how to.”

The way of the sword was all you’d been taught, and fighting was nothing like the elegant and tranquil movements that belonged in a ballroom.

“I could teach you,” Joshua offered.

There was no music except for the buzzing of the crickets, but you didn’t see the harm. “Just for a short while.”

“Here, like this.” Stepping closer, he clasped both of your hands and positioned them outwards by your side the way you saw most people postured back in the ballroom. “Follow me. It’s fine if you happen to step on my feet.”

You found the motions unfamiliar, completely unlike the sharp and jarring reflexes you had during battle, but you still felt a tinge of deja vu. The way you kept your gaze locked at the ground to make sure your feet didn’t stumble reminded you much of your days when you’d first picked up the sword; untrained and uncertain. You were sure you looked nothing as graceful as the women were back there, and Joshua was probably practising extra caution to watch out for you, too.

The flowers in the garden smelled sweet.

You glanced back up at Joshua. “By the way, you never answered my question if you were interested in men.”

Joshua fumbled and trod on your boot. It barely hurt, but you huffed.

“My apologies. I…” He squinted at you like he was trying to figure something out. “I don’t understand why you could be so curious about this.”

“I already mentioned it, didn’t I? Are you not worried about finding a betrothed?”

He slowed to a halt, and you did the same. “It’s not that I’ve been avoiding it—I’ve simply been preoccupied with… other things, is all.”

You tilted your head. “I see. Then I’ll have to assume the rumours are true.”

Joshua blinked quizzically. “What rumours?”

“You must’ve heard of them. I’m talking about these.”

Your reflexes were always going to be much faster than Joshua’s—you dropped your hands along with his down to your sides, leaning forward until the tips of your noses met, sharing a breath. His pretty blue eyes were so wide, so confused, and for the first time in a while, a grin stretched itself out across your lips.

“Did you know? I’m not that oblivious.”

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

Author’s note: I’m not actually sure what the ranks of knighthood are, so I’m just going to say there are several commanders in the ranks and then one lord commander.

Also, Clive’s hair was styled in the flashback but became unkempt afterwards because he was pretty much a slave, so I wonder if he’d continue styling his hair as an adult in this kind of AU.

[abiiors]

To Build A Home

Day 6 of Matty's Birthday Bash! I've never done a headcanon before so I'm really sorry if this is rambly and all over the place

Series Masterlist / the rest of them will be in the reblogged post

minors dni

Saturday: 34 headcanons for 34 years of Matty Healy

In the beginning, there would be so much shameless flirting and rockstar charm he uses to whisk you off your feet. 

It starts off a bit clunky; he is away half the time and worried that you might find it to be a deal breaker. But he’s pleasantly surprised and eternally grateful when you turn up time and time again.

There’s always that nervous feeling in his gut that this is the date he ends up being ghosted, that this is the phone call where you dump him for not being enough. But each time it doesn’t happen and he lets himself hope more and more.

By the third, fourth, fifth time his friends tease him for being whipped, for always getting excited when a text comes through. But they could not be happier at the sight of his bright smile, at the way his eyes light up.

He has a small, tight circle of friends. He would really appreciate someone who seamlessly integrates themselves into it. Not just as his partner but also a friend to his friends.

He pretends to be offended when they take your side over his but secretly he beams with pride every time. His girl, his partner, is not just important to him but important to the people he holds dear.

Then there are moments that are permanently seared into his brain. He remembers coming home one evening and finding you there, waiting to surprise him with dinner and he thinks how he wants to come home to this every single day. To the smell of warm food and your perfume, to sweet music and soft laughter. 

This feels a bit like a beginning of a film to him; your warm body next to his in the white sheets. Sunlight streaming in as the room fills with your giggles because he cannot keep his hands off you. But he’s not worried about this being taken away from him. He believes wholeheartedly that you are his happy ending. 

The first time you say I love you to him, he spends the night on his knees worshipping. And then he spends the morning after counting his blessings. He doesn’t believe in the existence of God, that’s for sure but in his heart, he knows you were made for him.

‘Live here, share my house with me, make it a home,’ he speaks in a hushed voice when you wake up and melts completely at the excited look on your face. There are several whoops of joy once you finally say yes. 

And years later when he gets down on one knee, tears in his eyes, it’s your turn to whoop in joy and say yes. He thinks this is his favourite sound in the world.

Move-in day is chaos. He has to drag his friends over with a promise of free pizza and beer. Half the day flies away going down memory lane. The other half is filled with childish antics and silly fights. These are the golden years of his life, and no, it’s not too soon to say that. 

And there is a maple tree in the garden he cherishes with all his heart. Most days when he finds you reading under it, it makes his heart flutter because it’s sacred to him that his favourite place is also your favourite place. 

There are highs but there are also the lows. There are days when his fairytale dims a bit, when you get into silly fights and arguments. But he refuses to let you go to bed angry. He would rather say ‘I’m sorry’ till the words lose all their meaning to him than letting you sleep in one corner of the bed and away from his arms. 

His heart breaks at even the slightest hint of tears in your eyes. If the reason is someone else then he will find every possible way to make sure that person knows not to fuck with you. If the reason is him, he will grovel and apologise till you laugh and give him a kiss on the nose. That night he sleeps with an extra tight hold around you. Perhaps that night he realises how quickly this could all crumble. 

But his heart soars in his chest when you bring him breakfast in bed the next morning. A true sign that all is forgiven, that you still love him just the same and one silly fight doesn’t change it. 

Let’s not even talk about him being mad at you. He’s utterly incapable of it. He can be annoyed for a bit but then he sees your pout and hears you say sorry and suddenly he doesn’t remember why he was annoyed, to begin with. 

[igotanidea]

Someone special : batboys x ADHD!autistic!anxiety!Enby!reader

Request: batbros with a Enby reader who has some mental disabilities: Autistic, ADHD and anxiety who is pretty smart with random information and info dumps but is slow with processing things

DICK

„Hey, what’s with the long face?” Dick asked seeing them frowning in the corner of the batcave avoiding any other member of the family.

“Nothing….” They muttered, not facing him, making Dick crouch just to look straight into their eyes.

“Hey….” He repeated, a bit gentler this time “you can tell me, love. What’s going on?’

“I… I didn’t quite catch on the plan you were describing” they muttered, blush creeping on their face “God, I am so stupid!’

“You’re not stupid, peanut” Dick grabbed their hands in his reassuringly “I can describe it again to you if…..”

“That is the whole point, Dick!” they exclaimed “you shouldn’t have to! I’m just so sick of myself and of making you say everything twice just because I cannot process information fast enough. God!” they groaned getting up and starting to walk around the batcave in circles.

“Honey…..”

“Stop honeying me! I shouldn’t even be at this team! I’m like a threat to everyone’s safety while on patrol.”

“Ok, now you are exaggerating.”

“How am I….. how am I exaggerating?!”

“You’re like a mine of knowledge, if you don’t mind me using that term.”

“Yeah, sure.” They scoffed “completely random, useless information.”

“I wish I had as much of those as you do.” Dick mumbled under his nose

“You…. you what?”

“Yeah, you heard me.” He smiled “Come here.” Grayson patted the spot next to him and they obediently approached him, sitting down and letting him put an arm around their shoulders reassuringly. “Back in the days, when I was a detective….”

“Oh, that is an old time ago, you dinosaur.” They laughed

“Well, thank you very much. Someone once called me ancient, so sorry to disappoint but you are not the first. But. As I was saying, when I was a cop…..”

“Did you know that there are less than 1000 cops in Bludhaven and even less in Gotham?” they blurted “And statistically, each year there are less new and more retiring, so most probably in the next 5 or so years we will be left without any PD to protect us?”

“Y/N….”

“Ohmygod I did it again!” they covered their mouth instantly regretting each words said “Imsosorry, Dick, Ireallydidntmeantoburstoutlikethis.”

“Hey, hey, breathe.” Dick pulled them closer to him, rubbing soothing circles on their chest “It’s all good. I was going to say that random information are usually what helps crack the case, you know. Something completely unrelated is helping with the solution”

“Ho… how?”

“Have you watched legally blonde?”

“what does that have to do with anything?” they frowned searching for an answer in the back of their mind, Dick not helping just watching them with that smile of his, waiting patiently “Oh…..” once they realized what was the point their eyes went wide “you mean the part when Elle figured that the daughter killed the father, because she couldn’t have been at the shower at the time because of the perm?”

“Yes. And you are babbling again.” Dick grinned

“I’m sorry……” they looked down, ashamed. If only they could be different…..

“Why?” Dick kissed the top of their head “you are so cute. Everything you do or say is always so cute. And damn, I love you because of all that. So don’t ever be sorry for being an amazing human being.”

“All right….” They mumbled, leaning into Dick’s touch.

“Pinky promise?” he asked pointing a finger towards them.

“Sure, Grayson. Pinky promise.”

JASON

Everyone in the room where laughing at some joke he just said, but instead of joining the group in the joy, Y/N stood up and walked away, without a single word. At first, Jason didn’t even notice that being too caught up in being the center of attention (good for once in his life), but barely  a few seconds after he run the corridor just to find them. Fuck, what kind of boyfriend was he to miss their disappearance.

“Sunshine? Come on, where are you?”

“Hey Jace…..” they emerged from the nearest room smiling widely ‘what’s up?”

“You’re asking me?” Jason was dumbfounded “You.. you left and I though…..”

“Oh, were you worried about me? “

“Um, yeah.”

“Why?” they tilted their head and Jason started wondering whether that was just some silly game or if something really happened.

“Um… cause I was worried?”

“Oh, that is so sweet.” They cooed taking a step forward “but you really shouldn’t have. Your joke just reminded me of some book I was reading and I came here to check if I was right about the reference. And on my way I realized I left my cup of tea in the kitchen. But while I was in the kitchen, I realized I wanted to talk to Tim about one of his crazy plans that truly have like zero chances on succeeding, even if he insists on doing it.”

“Sure.” Jason crossed his arm on the chest, those stupidly big biceps flexing making their mind go blank. “Is it your anxiety again?”

“Yeah….” They played with their fingers in embarrassment “no? yes? Maybe? I don’t know. I just got giddy for no particular reason. Guess it’s more the ADHD thing than anxiety this time. I….” their mind was now running with the speed of light, their thoughts unable to stop and making them space out.

“Sunshine?” Jason put  a hand on their shoulder throwing them off the reverie and only that made them realize he was actually talking for the last minute or so, probably finishing with a question and awaiting answer.

“Hm?” they tried to cover for being so recklessly distracted

“I know that look.” Jason said “where were you?”

“too far from you…..”

“That’s not possible.” He laughed, cupping and caressing their cheek “you can never get far form me, cause if you do, I will come find you and bring you back home.”

“Jace…. I…..”

“Hush, little one. It’s my job. To keep you safe. “

“Even from my own nature? You must hate me for it.”

“Did you hate me when I was having panic attacks, trauma and when I was dealing with post-pit aggression? Yeah, we both now you did not. So how can I hate you? I …. I feel a lot for you, you know it, but hate?” he shook his head “hate is none of those things, baby.”

“Thank you….” a single tear flew down her cheek. Just one since Jason skillfully stopped the rest that might even dare to uglify their pretty face

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Yes, please….”

“Let me rescue you then.” He grinned, picked them up and carried outside, ready for a night bike ride to help them clear their mind and stop the pacing thoughts.

TIM

“You’re back!” Tim only did as much as step though the threshold when they threw themselves at him, arms wrapping tightly around his back pulling him close “I was so worried, Tim!”

“Hey, love.” He smiled and kissed their temple “I am back. I’m safe. You can relax now.”

“No….no… I really can’t …. I…. I can’t” their whole body started to shake, as they took a step back from Tim “what if…. What if?”

“What if what?”

“What if you were followed? Or poisoned with some crazy substance with slow-paced activity? Do you even realize how many of those are there in the open?”

“I actually do.” He muttered, not able to stop the self-proud creeping in

“And …. And the scientist are constantly coming up with new ones. Like Crane for instance. His fear toxin is just one of them. What if he creates something better? I mean, worse? I mean….”

“Were you reading one of my reports again?”

“What? No. I was just browsing the web…..”

“On my computer?” he asked quietly, trying not to startle them

“Uh, um, kinda…. Please don’t be mad at me, but you always have those interesting sides on. Truly, I have no idea why would you even search for half of those things, but you always got me curious.”

“I’m not mad” Tim shook his head “but look how it made you feel. You are trembling.”

“I’m not….” they objected, but Tim was no fool.

“Perhaps I should just use the parental blockade on some of those. Reading about murder is no good to you.”

“No!” they squealed “it’s fine. I’m fine, just a bit….”

“…projecting?” Tim asked, eyeing them closely, searching for any change in the body posture or face expression. Anything that would be the reflection of Y/N’s mental state.

“Maybe… All those photos and mugshots and police reports and the crime descriptions. All of that could happen to you any night you are out. Do you know the statistics on….?”

“I do.” He cut them off “And I have no intention of enlarging them. Ever. You know I’m careful, right?”

“Yes.” They squealed, but it was not convincing at all, they were still shaking

“Do you want a hug?”

“Please…” the second Tim opened his arms, Y/N dived right into them, pulling him close, making sure he truly was with them, safe and unharmed. And getting completely lost in his warm, comforting embrace. This was nice. This was calming and their breath slowly started getting back to normal.

“You are my number one reason to stay safe out there. Unlike my brothers I think before I do something so the chances of getting injured …..” he started, and the fatal word made them tighten the grip on him “sorry.” Tim caressed their back “the thing is, I can’t let anything happen to me, because I can’t let anything happen to you. You gave me your heart and I just have to make sure it’s safe so….” he blushed a bit in that cute way that always made Y/N’s pulse speed up “so that’s pretty much it.”

“I love you too, Tim.” They muttered “can you just hold me like this some more?”

“However long you like.” he said pulling them closer, just standing in the door, unbothered by anyone, at least for the time being, enjoying being together in this little silent bubble they created for themselves.

DAMIAN

‘They have been here for like two hours and they barely exchanged any word with anyone.”

“I was trying to talk to them and they didn’t even look me in the eyes. That’s so rude, don’t you think.”

“Maybe they are just crazy? Wonder why Wayne let his blood son get together with such a freak….”

Y/N was not deaf. Despite the opinion amongst people they were also not stupid, crazy or insane. Just a bit different, but it was easier to call them a freak than actually try to understand. Those people at the gala had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn’t lessen the pain at all. However, while they decided to just ignore it, instead standing by the bar, counting the glasses all over again and trying to stay strong, Damian was not the one to hold back.

Ever.

Especially when it came to them.

“I dare to say it again. Johnson.” a familiar voice reverberated from behind and despite knowing better Y/N turned around noticing Damian confronting one of the gossipers, his face absolutely blank which was enough indication that he was pure rage inside. Thank God, he had no weapon on him while at the party. At least, seemingly, it was Damian Wayne after all.

“Oh, come on, Wayne. Relax a bit. We were just joking. No one here means any harm to your partner.”

Y/N frowned. Maybe it really was just a joke? Sometimes they had trouble in recognizing irony and sarcasm and metaphors, so perhaps it was just one big misunderstanding?

“Really?” Damian hissed “do you see anyone laughing? Do you see Y/N laughing?”

“It’s not like they would get the joke after all.” One the jokers took a sip from his glass. Just one before the glass broke in his hands, debris and the rest of drink falling on the floor.

Mhm. So he actually had a weapon on him.

“What the fuck, Wayne?! Are you insane?!”

“Not more than them.” Damian smirked throwing a glance at Y/N. “Guess that’s what makes us a great couple.”

“You little piece of shit! Do you have any idea how expensive this suit was!?” the man’s face was now red from barely held rage as he took a few steps towards Damian, readying to strike

“Don’t know. Don’t care. And if you are trying to scare me…”

“DAMIAN!” before he could throw a threat at his father’s guests Y/N rushed towards him, grabbing his arm and stopping him in his tracks “let’s just go. Please. It’s not worth it.”

“But they….”

“It doesn’t matter, really.” They shook their head and tugged at his sleeve “please, I’m tired.”

“Yeah, you two weirdos better leave now, before….”

Johnson never got to finish this sentence

***

“You really shouldn’t have done that.” Y/N muttered when ten minutes later they and Damian were sitting on the bed in his room, next to each other.

They both got kicked out the gala by Bruce himself when Damian could not control himself any longer and threw a perfectly aimed punch at Johnson’s face.

“He got that coming.” Daman shrugged “the only person who can make fun out of you is me.”

“Am I supposed to be touched by that?” they asked tilting head “is that another of those sarcastic jokes I don’t get?”

“No. No it’s not. I really mean it. Cause even I mock you, it’s still just teasing you know it, right?” they nodded “gotta keep the appearances.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means if anyone else ever say as much as a bad word about you, would probably lose a tongue.”

“Damian!”

“An ear?”

“No.”

“A finger?” he whined “please, give me something to work with.”

“As cute as it is, I’m not going to let you mutilate anyone because they offended me. But I appreciate the gesture.” They pocked at his belly and laughed a bit.

“I’m not cute…..” Damian pouted, falling onto the bed next to them.

Whatever Y/N said, he was going to have some fun with a person daring to criticize them. They didn’t really need to know, right?

@1witchy-crow-48

[phantasmechanical]

hello what is tumblr for if not ranting into the void, so allow me to tell the void things I wish I could tell the patients who come into the ER where I work

I do not need to see a picture of it

I do not need you to (re)move your clothing to show it to me

I do not need any details or context at all actually

Nope not your allergies either.

Anything you could possibly be coming into this particular ER for can be described in 10 words or less.

I am not clinical staff.

Oh my god I am not clinical staff

I cannot give you medical advice, I cannot give you medicine, I cannot do anything clinical because I am not. Clinical. Staff. That’s why they wear scrubs and I’m in business casual.

I am not trying to screw you over when I say I can’t discuss insurance with you. It is not just hospital policy it’s an entire law called EMTALA

Visitors: I’m gonna need you to put on your listening ears. When I say “I’ll open the double doors around the corner” to let you into the ER, that does not translate to “the single door directly next to you” just because that is the closest door you can see.

Visitors part 2: I don’t know who your mom is. She is not listed as “guy in tie dye’s mom” in our system. Tell me her name and I will tell you where to go.

I can’t tell you how long it’s going to be because I don’t know.

I can’t tell you when they’ll get your test results back because I don’t know.

If you leave your car running to come in and ask me how long the wait is, you are probably not experiencing a medical emergency.

A broken nail is not a medical emergency, especially when it didn’t even break past the quick. (yes this really happened)

Having “a glob of earwax stuck in your ear” is also not a medical emergency. (this literally happened tonight)

As a chronic pain sufferer, I completely understand that chronic pain can make you feel like you’re dying. I can see you’re hurting, and I sympathize, but you can afford a few minutes that someone who’s having a stroke can’t. Life or death has to come first, no matter how debilitating the pain is.

I know your self-pay estimate is unreasonably high. I know it’s ridiculous. What I don’t understand is how you can think that I have any control over that when I’m working hourly doing overnight registration.

Our doctors are not miracle workers. The meds we offer are not miracle drugs. Do not come back to the ER because it’s been 24 hours and you’re still having flu like symptoms. Sometimes time is the only option.

If you’ve been exposed to Covid, you tested positive for Covid, and you’re only having mild Covid symptoms, I truly do not understand why you’re standing at my window. You have Covid.

When I say “have a seat and fill this out, then bring it back up” that does not mean stand directly in front of the window and block other people while you fill it out. Peepaw behind you is having chest pain get the fuck out of the way.

You are a 32 year old man with a low grade fever and a sore throat, why the FUCK did you send your mommy up here to check in for you

I promise I will believe that you’re sick without you laying down on the floor in front of my window. The doctor will believe that you’re sick even if you don’t get up out of the wheelchair to lay down in the floor of the waiting room.

“I don’t need to check in I just need a work note because I was sick yesterday” no

“I just need a pregnancy test. I haven’t taken one at home but—” no

“Can I just get [insert piece of medical equipment]” no

“Can I wait in my car and y’all just text me when it’s my turn” no

I have heard someone tell me they feel like they’re going to pass out at least once a shift for the entire time I’ve worked here. Not a single one of them ever has.

Give your child medicine!! If you say she had fever we will not think you’re a liar just because the Motrin brought it down. We can see with our eyes that she feels sick we don’t think you’re trying to trick us somehow.

If you come in vomiting like you’re possessed and I can smell weed on you before you even get to the window, you are nooooot gonna like the diagnosis you’re about to get. (cannabis hyperemesis syndrome)

The main hospital doors have a big sign that says they close on the weekends and after 7pm in the evening. That big sign says to enter through the ER. I need you to read the words on the sign. I do not need you to tell me the main hospital doors are locked.

[apollo-the-frog]

im just gonna make a list of my favorite rwrb quotes

(sorry for any mistakes)

"you decided to put your dick into the heir to the british throne" zahra says, as she is actively pegging the equerry to the heir to the british throne

"HRH PRICE DICKHEAD💩"

to alex from henry

("is alex claremont diaz going to be a father?" news) 

to alex

"but we were ever so careful dear"

The turkey /cornbread knows my sins, 

Henry 

-alex

(I totaly... Privately called that)

-nora abt henry kissing alex

(I have no idea what a maypole is... Are they known for their homosexual tendencies?)-alex

"Who says make love anymore? Are we gonna like... Listen to Lana del Rey while we do it?) -alex

"everytime I see you it takes another year off of my life" -zahra after she sees henry in alexs closet 

[ALEX READING ONE LAST STOP]

"it's like there's a rope attached to my chest and its pulling me towards you"

-alex on the dock with henry

"if you want me to leave you'll have to tell me to leave"-alex at the palace after henry ghosted him

(WHEN THEY WRITE THE HISTORY OF MY LIFE I WANT IT TO INCLUDE YOU. And my LOVE FOR YOU!!)

-alex (i think) at the museum at night

"HISTORY, HUH? 

BET WE COULD MAKE SOME"

-alex at the museum at night

(and I'm not gonna get any work done until you let these lovesick homosexuals on the phone with one another) -zahra on the phone to shaan after email leaks (the lovesick homosexuals are alex and henry)

"the phrase 'see attached bibliography' is the single sexiest thing youve ever writen to me"-henry (i think) in emails

"Sugar, I cannot express to you how much the press does not give a fuck about who started what," Ellen says. "As your mother, I can appreciate that maybe this isn't your fault, but as the president, all I want is to have the CIA fake your death and ride the dead-kid sympathy into a second term."-ellen claremont, after the cake incident 

“You and me and history, remember? We’re just gonna fucking fight. Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you. So, I promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else.”-alex, after email leaks

HRH Prince Dickhead @

You are the thistle in the tender

and sensitive arse crack of my life.

Text from Alex:

yo there’s a bond marathon on and did you know your dad was a total babe?

Text from Henry HRH Prince Dickhead:

I BEG YOU TO NOT

A: "You are gonna go be, like, five hundred feet away from me for the rest of the night, or else I am going to do something that I will deeply regret in front of a lot of very important people."

-after alex and henry make out in the red room

"O, fathers of my bloodline! O, ye kings of olde! Take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. If only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when American boys with chin

dimples are mean to him."-henry in emails writing a story abt them to alex

"Christ, you're as thick as it gets," he says, and he grabs Alex's face in both hands and kisses him.

“I don’t give a damn what Joanne has to say, Remus John Lupin is gay as the day is long, and I won’t hear a word against it.”-(henry i think) in texts

"The next slide is titled: EXPLORING YOUR SEXUALITY: HEALTHY, BUT DOES IT HAVE TO BE WITH THE PRINCE OF ENGLAND?"

-ellen claremont, the powerpoint presentation 

"Sometimes you just jump and hope it's not a  cliff."(idk who said that but i think henry)

"Wait. Zahra. Oh my God. I just realized. You're... my friend." "No, I'm not." "Zahra, you're my mean friend." "Am not."-alex (idk when)

"I've been gay as a maypole since the day I came out of Mum, Phillip."-henry, with the queen

"Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit, says the voice of the President of the United States, muffled in the bed. "It had better be forever. Be safe"-ellen claremont, on voicemail 

oh shit i forgot the agenst the walls one sorry 😢

if you know the page # or character/time mistakes put in tags :)

[jeonqkooks]

I seriously don't get it. Like, you can be a fan of an actor or a director and it doesn't mean you automatically love every single movie they've ever been in or made. You can talk normally with other fans about what you loved and what you didn't. And *gasp* you might have different opinions because taste is subjective! And just because it's not your type of movie doesn't mean you won't give it a chance or not be excited about the next one.

Why is the attitude towards BTS so different? Hell, sometimes they don't even love the work they put out or change their minds on it as their tastes evolve. You can support and love JK and wish for his happiness and success without vibing with every single thing he does. And it's ok to talk to each other about it without it being classified as a personal attack on the artist. The whole point of art is to provoke thought and discussion!

i think the reason why the attitude is different toward bts is bc kpop fandoms (and maybe this fandom especially) are toxic as hell 😭 the kpop fandom culture sucks and i think we can all agree on this. literally anything less than absolute worship is considered “hate” and (as you said) “a personal attack on the artist”, which i think is stupid as hell because ??? make it make sense. 😑

yeah i don’t know why it’s such a “controversial” thing to have an opinion that’s different than the majority of the fandom, an opinion that doesn’t include always screaming about how much you love bts and the thing they’re doing. i say bts but honestly i only ever see this kind of stuff happening with jk. 95% of the discourse i come across is jk discourse.

i am literally a jk stan. we all know that. if i love a thing he does, i’ll proudly say it. i can yell about how much i love Stay Alive all day long. you guys KNOW how much this blog used to revolve around jk. clearly i am not “out to get him” and i am not lurking in the shadows with my little rat hands waiting for him to release new content just so i can dunk on him. 😑

as a fan and a literal consumer of his music, i am allowed to have certain expectations. he doesn’t seem to be going down the direction that i would’ve liked, and that’s perfectly fine. you do you, boo 😗 if it’s not my taste, then it’s not my taste. but i’m still allowed to have my opinions on this and i’m still allowed to express them.

expressing my disappointment does not mean that i hate him or i don’t support him anymore. it’s as simple as that, but apparently even that is still a very hard pill for a lot of people to swallow. “but they see everything!” okay lol i can guarantee you (not you anon, just people in general) that bts are not creeping on my tumblr blog and taking notes of every single thing that i’m saying about them. even if they are, i can still guarantee you that they do not care lol. me not listening to a song/album literally will not affect their streams at all. it will not affect their revenue in any way. jk is still a multi millionaire whether or not i listen to or buy jjk1. he does not give a shit about me because he does not know i exist lol.

with that said, a big reason why i am PISSED is because of the fans. jk doesn’t care about me, do you think he’s crying in his room because i said i didn’t like a song? do you think that he - a 26-year-old grown ass adult and global superstar with 10 years of experience under his belt - cannot handle criticism? do you think he’s a baby in an adult man’s body or something that you feel like you personally have to defend him against any and all criticism? that you have a duty to make sure that he doesn’t hear anything less than positive that people have to say about him?

if your answer is yes, then, well, idk what else to say to you lol.

but if your answer is no, and you still come after people for having different opinions, then lol sorry i think you’re weird 🤷‍♀️ why can i only speak my mind when it’s something along the lines of “OH MY GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH. ALBUM OF THE CENTURY”? when i say something as simple as “i’m a little disappointed by this. this isn’t something i really vibe with,” i’m considered a hater, an anti, and told to shut the fuck up? why can i only say what i really think when it aligns with what the majority of the fandom is thinking?

i am not attacking jk by not being into his music. i am not attacking jk stans by having a different opinion than they do. i am literally just being honest about what i think, my opinions which only affect me. what is so hard to understand about that lol

another point that i would like to touch on is when people say things like “but why can’t you let people enjoy it?” erhm. i’m not going into people’s inboxes and screaming in people’s faces “I DON’T LIKE IT, SO WHY DO YOU? YOU SHOULDN’T LIKE IT EITHER!” 😑 if my not liking the music ruins your fun, if it genuinely hurts and upsets you, then maybe you should take a step back from all of this and reevaluate. if you are hurt by an online stranger having a different opinion than you about something as simple as MUSIC (which is subjective to everyone’s personal taste) made by someone you will never know, then i don’t think the internet is for you, honestly.

[hoesamo]

Altar of the Cult [Part 2]

We next see Fafnir in the room he fell in. He’s a bit dazed, but thinks he’s fallen into an altar.

As he further regains consciousness, he realizes he can’t move his body. He sees that his arms and legs are tied. When the demons reveal themselves, he’s none too pleased, asking what they’re doing and demanding to be released from his shackles. He’s only met with sneering/laughing, so he starts to cast his Primordial Sun spell…

Only to have it interrupted. His spell actually won’t work. With no means of defending himself, he is now at the mercy of the enemy attacking and torturing him. Even after telling them that he’ll instantly heal, they continue their attack. From the room above, Yuji now understands that the point is to not necessarily be killed immediately, but to experience immense torture.

Gordon explains the king of this place used to perform sacrifices to the Dark God here in order to gain immortality. Suffering is an important part of these sacrifices, as it’s said to have made the Dark God happy. The king would find ways to maximize the pain and suffering for these rituals, which would include ripping out many victims’ still-beating hearts. The king would be granted said immortality, and would use necromancy to resurrect and manipulate the sacrifices’ dead bodies.

Gordon confirms this.

Had he been caught after the trap, Fafnir would’ve been tortured plenty for an hour or so, based on his experience here from 10 years ago. Before Yuji can use his single braincell to process the weight of that exposition, Gordon urges them to hurry up. The pitfall leads to a room that is two floors below them.

We cut back to Fafnir being painfully tortured, now having caught on to the demons’ intentions. He wonders how long will this go on, and if these tireless can really keep going forever.

When Yuji makes it to the room, he notices that it’s a little familiar, built in a way reminiscent to the Ancestor. He spots Fafnir and alerts Gordon to get into position. He wants to save him quickly, but Gordon tells him to wait for the right opportunity to strike. Another aspect of torture is that it can lure out the victim’s friends

(Gordon STAYS dragging Fafnir Andjdksnskf it’s SO funny to me)

This is what happens to those who get caught in these traps. Looks like Gordon’s also projecting his own traumatic experiences here.

{DeepL Translation for Gordon’s line: “And to add insult to injury, he even got his friends involved in his death....... He's just like those idiots.”}

Yuji isn’t liking Gordon’s wording at all here, calling that awful. He understands that falling into the trap is indeed his own fault, but to leave him in that position…

After the brief scolding, Gordon admits he was captured the same way as Fafnir 10 years ago. Back then, when his adventuring party was considered the best in the country, he let it go to his head. In trying to rescue him, one of his friends died, and the others became disabled like him. He still blames himself for his recklessness, and wishes he had died back then instead.

Yuji cannot believe what he’s hearing. He will always help a friend in need, so don’t tell him who’s worth saving. Gordon doesn’t understand his way of thinking, believing it to be foolish as well. In fact, it reminds him of his friend who died. He was even a lewd person like Yuji, too. He was actually the first person to originate his old adventuring party.

{DeepL Translation of his next lines bc I really love them for Gordon: When I was playing with him, teasing him, saying I love him and coming at him head-on... Oh, those days were really, really fun...}

After a moment of silence, he tells Yuji to listen carefully, and then Google Translate proceeds to immediately demolish the vibes with this hiccup. 😂

(I think he means he’s gonna create an opening for Yuji with a distraction lmfao XD)

[thefandom-casserole]

Episode Ten- Dads Don’t Do Other Dads Dirty

My relisten notes

DadFact: Glenn Close Trio is the Jazz-mix Christmas cover band!!!! Betrayal >:c

Aww after Morgan died I’m betting Nick was alone for Christmas every. single. year. That’s sad

DadFact: Darryl was on DILFs of Disney Land (got his 15 minutes of fame) (Dad. Is. Little. Fat.)

DadFact: Henry’s second favorite drink is ROOM TEMPERATURE water

DadFact: Ron’s middle name is ‘F’

DaddyFact: Anthony recommends RPG (The Witch’s Gambit) things if you wanna get into rp games but dnd seems like a lot

AHHH PAEDEN’S INTRODUCTION SOON IM SO FUCKING EXCITED YOU HAVE NO IDEA IM SO STOKED HE’S MY FAVORITE CHARACTER IN THE WHOLE SERIES IM SO EXCITED AHHHHH

Paeden

Paeden

Paeden

Ahhhhhhh

Thank you Ben. 

UNFORTUNATE FOSTER CHILDREN

:D :D :D :D

I love how most of these kids are using magic but Paeden literally NEVER uses magic except for his final scene

I’m stimming so hard I missed Paeden so much

Gunan Duckworth is 13

Paeden is 8

“He fights with vigor of someone who’s trying to get back at someone who’s died” OH GOODNESS

EYE OF THE TIGER 

HE HAS THE EYE OF THE TIGER

GOD HES MY FAVORITE CHARACTER I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Darryl you will love him later, you get your dad and you get your second son!!!!!!!!

“Would it impress you?” Nick 💔 

PAEDEN AND NICK (I miss Nickolas FOSTER and Paeden’s dynamic)

Nick did Taekwondo 

“It has been several hours since we’ve had a kid death” People (me) need to do more angst involving the UFC and Paeden

I LOVE PAEDEN SO MUCH THIS IS INSANE IM SO UNWELL ABOUT HIM OMG OMG IM SO INSANE

AHHHH HIS FIRST INTERACTION OKAY OKAY I CAN BE NORMAL *starts shaking whoever is reading this and gets louder* I CAN BE NORMAL

GAHAJSJSJDJNDKDK

In real life it has been five minutes

I cannot be normal

“Sorry Paeden that this is the character I used your name for” IF I WAS PAEDEN I WOULD BE SO HAPPY. PAEDEN. WHOEVER YOU ARE. YOU ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVORITE PERSON EVER IM SO SORRY YOU’VE NOW GOT AN AUTISTIC ATTACHED TO YOU. I OWE YOU A WOOKIE LIFE DEBT LIKE CERN

Glenn is offering an eight year old to join his drug empire 💀 

🎵The eye of the tiger 🎵 

“You have a plus seven in persuasion!?” Just wait. It gets worse (better)

“I don’t like to fight before a fight, put them away” Paeden you actually have the best quotes

Henry’s kids WOULD love the UFC. We needed more Paeden-Twins interactions 

I took a break and now I’m listening on the bus next to my busmate. Oh boy

Awwww poor Gunnar

Still hate him he’s still a jerk with Paeden

AGAHJSJDJ I ADORE PAEDEN GOOD GOD

My ultimate favorite character ever !!!!!!! 

I STILL ADORE PAEDEN AND NICK/NICHOLAS DYNAMIC THEY ARE SO SIBLING CODED

PAEDEN IMMEDIATELY JOINING THEIR CREW HE REALLY IS THE GUY EVER

Oooh Henry’s going off on Glenn

Party of eight? Henry, Glenn, Darryl, Ron, Nick, Paeden, and Cern…? Hmmm. (I’m joking I’m joking)

Glenn canonically goes to a therapist!!!!!!!!!!!

Wellllll Glenn betting on children gets us Paeden which is evennnnn betttttter

“I feel statements” 

These things actually work so poorly. It ends up in hilarious fights 

NICK KNOWS THAT THEY HAVE TO EAT GRANT’S SKIN OMG

What was he thinking at that moment?

“Dad I’m sorry!” NICK NO OMG I LOVE NICK SO MUCH

“CHECK PLEASE” best ending ever

[barkingangelbaby]

ok talking to myself a lot tonight (N went to bed at 10 lol) i'll throw a read more up just in case i type a lot

but i cannot fucking WAIT for h to visit next weekend.. we've known each other since 2008 n she was my best friend during the hardest years of my life. we spent sooo much time on the phone together growing up n she always burned me CDs n i always wrote out the lyrics to the songs for us (man was it fun to listen to the songs over n over n over to guess the correct lyrics. of course i got a lot wrong). she lived one neighborhood over but her parents were kinda strange with visitors so she'd come over a lot n we'd walk around my neighborhood or goof off in my room for hours. we regularly went to the movies n were constantly taking pictures on my dumb lil digital camera lol. oh god, the amount of facebook posts we made.. truly a little archive of our blossoming friendship lol.

we also constantly wrote each other notes, i had an entire shoebox full but i think i ended up throwing them out back in 2018 (i had four boxes full of notes from ppl bc i didn't throw out a single card/note/letter given to me after 7th grade). idk though bc i remember specifically putting her box to the side when i threw the rest out, i'll have to see if it's in a tote downstairs sometime. anyway

she's such a warm, kind, welcoming, understanding person. truly beautiful inside and out. we became friends a few months before my dad's health declined rapidly and idk dude. my life would have felt so empty without her sunshine-y self

we've been talking about getting matching fob tattoos so maybe we'll do that when she visits :) i wanna take her to this horticulture/educational garden spot by us n maybe this small zoo a town over. she's gonna play dnd with me n my college pals too, which will be so fun!!!

ahhhh. i'm just so grateful to be able to love her and have her take the time to come visit.

[umbrellamedic]

💃   to   slow   dance   with   my   muse.

help i need this so bad. carlos intiates, no doubt. two possible scenarios. dbd verse: they're commiserating at The Pile about missing music. or resi evil verse: carlos and bertha are once again on a mission, and she is particularly obstinate in her cold medic routine, not giving into any of his shit, but then he suggests that even BERTHA must be human to like to dance.

either way the next thing that happens is he navigates her into a slow dance accompanied by some half hummed half sung (and mostly in tune. mostly.) peruvian-porteguese song carlos knows a few of the lyrics to. in this essay i will–

Cut for length, not for anything saucy

~PART ONE~

It happens because she gets sloppy; in the comfort of The Pile, Bertha's usual vigilance drops. She checks the entry points when she first shows up- as is her way- but, once satisfied nothing has broken through any of the windows they've patched up with scavenged wood and at least one gurney stolen from Lery's, she lets her guard down. She doesn't keep track of how much time passes as she goes through her medkit to check the state of her supplies. She doesn't have to replace quite as much as she expected. This could be because she is stingy with the best of her supplies with most other survivors. She needs to forage the false Raccoon City for green herbs soon.

She is rerolling bandages when it happens. Bertha's mask is set to the side, her hands are busy with a task she has performed many times in boredom, and the silence of the room is pushed aside by the song she's singing. Not actual words; it's a string of 'la da's and 'ah na's to the tune of something she hasn't heard in years. Hadn't even before the Fog. She does not notice when she ceases to be alone. Sloppy.

Carlos's smile could be for any reason; the medic is more ready to believe it's for a trial gone reasonably well than that it could be for how relaxed and- almost- happy she seems. She does not think too hard into it and instead stops her singing in favor of conversation and staunchly pretending she was not making any sounds at all when he came in. Her hands ache to get her mask and slip it into place, but this is an old habit and not needed around her teammate. She is trying to be comfortable showing them her face, despite the dusting of pink on her cheeks that only darkens as their conversation goes from music- God, they all miss music so much- to dancing. Bertha is not a great dancer. She doesn't know many dances at all.

She isn't sure how they end up dancing.

Her head is tilted so her eyes can stay on her feet to make sure they do not stop on Carlos's as he leads her in something slow and swaying and accompanied by a song from his memory. He sings softly, so much that eventually she needs to pull her eyes away from their feet and lean closer to him to really hear it. If she has to rest her head on his shoulder to best hear the rhythm, it's to help her move in time. Practical; that's all she'll admit it is.

She's not familiar with the tune, but as they move together she decides it might be one of her favorites. When she stops thinking too much about the steps it becomes easier; she can move with him as a single unit. She feels safe in his arms and only distantly wonders if he feels safe in hers.

~PART TWO~

Missions where no one is grievously injured are the absolute worst. Or, more accurately, missions where Bertha is on lone to another team where no one is grievously injured are the absolute worst. There is nothing for the medic to do; no bloody wound to entertain herself with. She holds this opinion until they accomplish their goals and are waiting on a sub-grouping of their team to return. They cannot leave the stragglers behind. At that point, missions where no one is grievously injured and she must wait on three or four other people she neither knows nor cares for become the absolute worst.

When one of the UBCS she is babysitting ambles over (one who has attempted to make nice with her before), Bertha debates whether it's from boredom, or if he's simply fulfilling some dare from the others. A show of bravery. Even among mercenaries, an unfamiliar, masked doctor is not to be taken lightly. Maybe especially among mercenaries. She's sure more than a few of them have been tortured. She knows her reputation- she has worked hard for it. Surely they know the kinds of things her steady hands are capable of. Or, at least, they can imagine. She isn't sure any can really get close to how much damage she can make her patients survive. The reason why does not matter; he approaches and there is no readily apparently sign that he will be leaving any time soon.

At first her responses are terse. Telling him she is not in the mood to talk has not worked any better than telling him to fuck off has on previous occasions. He comes back with the same breezy smile, like he's sure she's already accepted their friendship. It makes her smile under mask more than she will ever admit to another living soul. Her attempts at scaring him away are no more successful than usual.

Hell, with the time to kill, some old tape player he found and swiped during the mission, and an old cassette in one of his many, many pockets things, she does not actually mind that he sees through her frosty attempts. They begin talking about music; mostly old songs from childhood. This somehow bleeds into talking about dance- something Bertha has never had much interest in outside of moshing, if that even really counts. He's as sure that even she can dance as he is of their friendship. She's sure she's too white to have any rhythm.

Either to prove her wrong, or to teach her- she isn't sure of his motivations here, either- his hands find hers. It's slower than the actual song at first, possibly while he gauges whether or not she actually will stab him like she threatens. Then Bertha gets fed up with their movements not matching the pace of the unfamiliar song. She can't dance. She really can't. But trying to do it slower than the song is not doing her any favors. The song isn't entirely that fast in and of itself anyways; she catches on to his leadership with less instances of stepping on his feet than she had expected at the start. They both have heavy boots, his toes are safe enough.

Carlos knows the song; he sings along under his breath to words Bertha can only imagine he's heard a thousand times. She's fairly certain the rest of his team will be treated to the soft sounds of the cassette on the return transport. Possibly after that, as well. Part of her wonders if he's already played it for them and has been shooed away; if that's how he's ended up with arms around her and her hands on his shoulders (when did this happen? she isn't sure), moving gently to and old song. Another part of her considers that, maybe (just maybe), she's the first person he shares the song with. She knows it's unlikely, but decides to believe it anyways.

Michaela is a smiling, blushing mess under her mask. She's still clumsily bumping his feet with hers every couple steps.