#had this in mind for that but it works for canon too

[sanguineterrain]

holiday spirit | jason todd

Summary: Stuck at a shitty office party for your shitty job on Christmas Eve Eve, you’re at your wit’s end. The last thing you expect is to play vigilante for a night with the Red Hood.

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!reader 

Word count: 7.2k

Warnings/tags: panic attacks, reader has anxiety, creepy coworkers, office party shenanigans, canon-typical violence, jason being both a menace and a sweetheart, attempts at humor, fake relationship, silliness!

the divider

You’re grateful for a reason to escape. Someone announces that the lights on the obnoxious eleven-foot Christmas tree are burned out and you’re already on the elevator, volunteering to find spare lights. 

You hate these office parties. They’re just a way to play politics, show off fiancés, and reaffirm cliques. You wanted to skip it all together. But Mr. Emerson, your boss, had insisted that attending tonight’s party was mandatory.

Alma had told you about a hundred times to skip tonight, but Alma’s worked here since the Reagan administration and has too much pull to be fired. You, conversely, have been here eight months, and if you get fired, your next job is going to be as a henchman for a B-list Gotham villain. 

Being painfully ordinary and anxious is a toxic mix. Your doctor still thinks all your worrying is because of your menstrual cycle. He doesn’t believe in work-related stress.

So anyway. You’re just trying to get through tonight. And find some tree lights that work. 

You unlock the spare office where all the holiday junk is stored and turn on the light. 

The motherfucking Red Hood looks at you, one leg dangling outside of the window and one leg inside the office. He unclicks his harness. 

"Oh my God,” you say, hand frozen on the light switch.

Red Hood pulls his leg in from the window and steps into the office. He puts the harness in a duffel bag and roughly zips it, then tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

"Oh my God.”

He glances at you, helmet eyes glowing. "No God here, just me.”

"Oh my God," you say again, near hysterics. "Oh my God, Red Hood."

"Always nice to meet a fan," he says irritably, brushing snow off of his jacket, flashing his holsters. Oh, fuck. That's a lot of guns.

"What, um—" You close your eyes, lick your lips, try to find your sanity. "To what do I—why—are you gonna kill me?”

"The fuck? You think I'd sneak into an office and kill someone in cold blood? What kinda operation you think I'm running?"

Your mouth opens and closes in horror. "Wh–I... I don't—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Mr. Hood."

"Please, Mr. Hood was my father."

He laughs. You taste bile in your throat. 

Hood sobers. "Damn. Tough crowd. Look, sorry to freak you out, but I got shit to do. If you'll just point me to Hershel Emerson's office, I'll be on my merry way."

"That's m-my boss. Are you gonna kill him?" You can’t handle murder tonight. You’ll have a breakdown for sure. 

"Literally, what did I just say?" Hood throws his hands up. "Not one minute ago. I'm not killing anyone!"

"Yet?" you ask weakly, mind inundated with too many mob movies to watch your manners. You know what the Red Hood is all about. Everyone does. 

"No. I'm not killing Emerson. But he is a bad dude, so I gotta take care of business. Actually, I should kill him. He deserves it."

You squeak in horror. He raises a hand.

"But I'm not!" he says gruffly. "Respectfully, get a grip. You live in Gotham."

You swallow. "What're you gonna do to my boss if not kill him?"

Hood shrugs. "Eh, maybe scare him a bit. Mostly get intel to take him down. He's currently sitting on five million dollars of stolen life savings from clients."

You blink. "What?"

"Yup. What I really wanna know is which of his employees are in on it. He didn't do this alone."

Hood takes out a small roll-up pouch of what looks like lockpicking tools. You release your sweaty death grip on the doorknob, causing it to squeak. Hood doesn't look up.

five million dollars is ringing in your head. That happened here. Where you work. Your boss is even scummier than you thought.

“Is that a lockpicking kit?” you ask.

“Yup. Good eye.”

"This seems... illegal.”

"Well, I won't lie to you, most of what I do is. You won't be implicated though.”

He looks at you. You flinch. Even with the lights on, the Red Hood is scary as shit. 

"Yeah..." he says, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t do well in prison. I can tell."

Your chest hurts. "I don't think anyone does well in prison," you say, eyebrows scrunching. "Have... you been to prison?"

"Only to break out a friend. You ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry. Um, Mr. Red Hood—"

"Ah-ah. Call me Red. Or Hood. No Mister-ing."

"Okay.” You lick your lips, hoping he doesn't go back on his temporary no-kill policy. “Hood, do you think you could come later? After the Christmas party?”

He tilts his head at you. You keep talking. 

“Not that I don't admire what you're doing! Because I think taking down my boss for stealing money is great, eat the rich and all that, but, um, I came up here to get lights to replace the ones that burned out downstairs because that's a normal thing that happens and now you're here, at my job, and I'm freaking out. Oh God, oh my God—”

You grab the wall for stability, feeling like you've been rocking on a boat for hours. Sweat beads on your forehead. This time, you really do feel like you’ll throw up. Throwing up in front of the Red Hood would be humiliating. 

“Look, I got shit to do, okay? I'm sorry you're freaking out but your boss is gonna cash out in a few days and then I lose him and that five million. It's now or never."

You should've just stayed home and baked cookies. Fuck being social! This is what happens when you're social: you meet morally gray vigilantes who force you to be complicit with their crimes.

Your cheeks feel wet. Are you crying? Maybe it’s sweat. 

Hood points to the hallway. "Is there a camera outside?"

"Y-yeah.” Your voice is weak. “I think I’m having a heart attack. Can you call security on your way out?"

“Does your left arm hurt?”

“No, but—”

“Are your limbs stiffening?”

“No, but—”

“You’re not having a heart attack. Your speech is fine.”

Hood takes out a few more things from the duffel, then kicks it under a desk with his foot. You wheeze and grab onto the doorknob again. 

It’s quiet for a second. Then— 

“Shit. You're having a panic attack,” Hood says.

"Mm, probably," you say, hunched over like an armadillo. Fuck your stupid doctor. 

There's silence as you wheeze quietly. Then something small hits your head. You flinch and squeal.

"You don't need to throw things at me!" you say, beyond defeated, near tears.

"No, I wasn't—sorry. It's a Warhead. I have one when I'm feeling… not my best. They're s’posed to help occupy your other senses so the panic disappears."

You stare at the candy, confused and suspicious at once. "Is it spiked?"

"Again, what sorta operation do you think I'm running? It's not drugs. Look." Hood unwraps a Warhead and sticks it in his mouth underneath his helmet. You hear him suck on it. "Eesh, that's sour. Okay? No drugs."

So you take the candy from the floor, unwrap it, and pop it into your mouth. The sour taste immediately overwhelms you. It's like your brain resets. You pant through the sour.

"Ough," you say, face scrunching from the taste.

"Yeah, right? Life changing hack."

You suck on the candy desperately and close your eyes, trying to find your breath. 

“It’s okay,” Hood says, stilted and awkward. “Just, uh, focus on your breathing. Exhale longer than you inhale. Breathe through your nose.”

It takes another few minutes, but the feeling passes. Your chest lightens. It’s the quickest you’ve ever recovered from a panic attack. 

“I was just kidding about the prison thing,” Hood says. “You’re not gonna go to jail ‘cause of this, I promise.”

Yeah, but what if you lose your job?

You spit the Warhead into a trash can and smack your tongue a bit. “Are you sure you can’t come back tomorrow night?”

“No can do,” Hood says. “Your boss will be gone by then.”

“It's just that I'm really bad with keeping secrets and according to Google, that's how ulcers form and I really can't afford any sick days off, so—"

You yelp as the door suddenly swings open, hitting your shoulder. You spin around.

"Hey," Bill says, squinting at you. "Where have you been?”

"No!" you yell, and turn off the light. 

Bill stares at you, illuminated by the hallway light. “Uh…”

You clear your throat. "Ahem. I'm fine. It's just taking me a moment to sift through all these decorations. Please return to the party.”

You hate Bill. He’s a sleaze and doesn’t do any work. More than once, he’s trapped you by the water cooler in a conversation about his “smokin’” imaginary lawyer girlfriend.

“If you wanted me to come help you, you could've just said so," he says, reaching for the light, way too close. You don’t like his tone either.

"No!" you yell, blocking the light switch with your hands.

"What the hell? Why not?"

"Because—"

There's a creak from the back. You wince. 

Bill immediately whips his head toward the sound. "Is someone here? Hello?"

He reaches for the light. Again, you block him, swatting his hands away.

"Would you stop—is someone here?"

"My boyfriend!" you blurt.

Bill stops, looking at you. "Your boyfriend? You've never mentioned a boyfriend."

"Well, I have one and he's here."

"Okay. Why can't I turn on the light and see him?"

"Because he's... um..."

You spot the red Santa suit out of the corner of your eye. 

Oh, this is a terrible idea.

"He's changing! He's our Santa for the party. Surprise!" You make weak jazz hands.

Bill looks into the dark where you're pretty sure Hood is hiding. You hope, anyway. Otherwise Bill is going to tell everyone that you're making up boyfriends. "Really?"

"Yeah, really," comes Hood's unmodulated, deadpan reply, and you jump. "Don't turn on the light. I'm naked."

"Oh..." Bill looks queasy for a moment. "Uh—" He looks at you and suddenly grins. "Oh, I get it. You two were having fun before going to the party, huh? Didn't know you were such a wildcat."

"That’s disgusting,” you say. “I would never do that in the office.”

Bill wiggles his eyebrows. "Me-ow. Does the Santa thing turn you on?"

"I'm right here, Bill, and naked or not, I'll kick your ass," Hood says.

Bill pales and quickly backs out of the room. "Right. Sorry. Uh, carry on."

He closes the door. You push your back against it and exhale, heart racing.

"Bill is a shithead," Hood says. 

“How… do you know his name?”

“Employee background check,” Hood says mildly. 

"Oh… yeah, he's been written up a bunch of times for inappropriate behavior, but he's close with Emerson, so he never gets fired."

"Want me to kill him for you? Free of charge."

"What? No! Hood—"

"Oh, relax. I was kidding."

"Uh-huh." You turn on the light. Hood has his helmet on, and his voice is modulated again. "What're we gonna do?"

"Well, I'm gonna go make sure Hershel doesn’t fuck off to Bermuda. The lights you wanted are here, by the way."

Hood tosses you a box of multi-colored tree lights. Then he walks toward you. You plaster yourself across the door.

"Wait! You can't leave. I said that my boyfriend is going to be Santa. Bill will tell everyone. They’ll expect you.”

"I appreciate your quick thinking, but that's a hard pass,” Hood says.

"You can't leave now! Bill's gonna tell everyone I'm a liar and they'll think I was up to something worse in here, like snorting coke."

"I mean this gently: I think you should look into anti-anxiety meds. My brother swears by Xanax.”

“My doctor won’t prescribe it to me,” you say glumly. “He thinks my anxiety is made up.”

“Huh. Want me to kill him? I know a better doctor.”

"Well…” You hesitate, then shake your head. “No! No. Hood, please. They’re all gonna expect a Santa. And when I don’t show up with Santa, they’ll remember that I didn’t participate in White Elephant or any of that other office nonsense that I don’t want to waste my money on. I need this job!”

“They’re not gonna fire you for not doing White Elephant,” Hood says. 

“You don’t know them! It’s a popularity contest.”

But Hood is indeed disinterested in the fact that you'll be the office pariah. Probably because he’s never worked in an office. 

Instead, he ushers you aside without a struggle. Then he turns the doorknob.

"Wait! Wait, listen. If you dress as Santa, you'll have access to the party and offices. You won't have to sneak around. And people get really drunk at these. They'll talk. You can figure out who's helping Emerson steal money."

His hand pauses. He looks at you. You look back, wringing your hands.

"You're pretty crafty," he says. 

"...Thanks?”

Hood releases the doorknob. "Alright, fine. I'll do the Santa shtick.”

“You will?”

He tilts his head. “Should I not?”

“No! No, you should. It’ll be a good disguise.”

He hums. “Sure. But we're in this together now, got it? You blow my cover and we both go down."

"Y-yeah, got it."

Hood heaves a gusty sigh. "Next time, I'm sending Roy in to do this shit."

"Who's Roy?"

"Ah." He holds up a finger. "Too many questions."

He makes a beeline for the Santa costume and then looks at you expectantly.

"Yo. Boyfriend or not, you're not watching me change. Guard the door, Mrs. Claus."

"Oh, right. Sorry."

You turn off the light and go into the hall, shutting the door behind you. It's empty, luckily. You rap your fingers on the box of lights, leg jiggling. 

This is insane. You should just tell Hood you can't do this and let him figure out his own plan.

But then... this would make it easier to find Emerson's crime partner. And you're really sick of Bill being a jerk. You don’t want to be called a liar, or get iced out for the rest of your time here because you didn’t bring Santa. Maybe having Hood be your Santa-boyfriend would make people leave you alone. Which is a crazy reason to stick to this plan, but still. You're trying to find the bright side.

And all those people that Emerson stole from... surely, you have a responsibility to help get their money back and bring him to justice, don't you?

The door swings open. You turn around.

“You wear a mask under your helmet?” 

“As a precaution.” He sounds defensive. “Lots of people in my profession do it.” 

You doubt that. “Don’t you think it’ll be weird if Santa has a mask on?” 

He hesitates, evidently debating between protecting his identity and arousing suspicion.

“Fine.” He carefully peels off the mask and tucks it into his pocket. The surrounding skin is slightly pink from irritation. His nose and cheeks are dotted with freckles. 

And wow. The Red Hood has beautiful eyes. So vibrant and clear, like seafoam. And young! How old is he, anyway? He doesn’t look much older than you, if at all. 

His eyes are framed by thick, dark lashes, and it makes sense, Hood being a brunet.

“What?” he snaps, glaring.

“Nice eyes,” you blurt.

His brows furrow. You remember the guns.

“Um, anyway. Should we go?” you squeak out, backing away.

Hood huffs through the beard. It flutters. "We need to have some ground rules."

"Okay."

"First, you should know that I will shoot if there's a physical threat at this party. Two, you're gonna call me Todd at the party. Three, if you try to tell anyone that I'm Red Hood or that I'm taking down Emerson, I will make your life hell. And if you're his partner, you'd better tell me now or I'm gonna be a lot less jolly."

"I'm not!" you say. "I would never do that. And I won't tell anyone you're Red Hood."

"Good. Let's go. Keep your ears open for hints about Emerson's partner."

He takes off in long strides. You hurry to keep up. The Santa costume doesn't slow him down.

"So how did you find out that Emerson's stealing?" you ask.

"Got a tip. You really didn't know he was stealing?"

“I don’t have access to the finances. I work in user interface. Website design.”

"Yeah? That's pretty cool. I got a brother who's into that stuff," Hood says.

"The same one who takes Xanax?”

“Would you believe it?”

You try to picture Red Hood with a regular family. With a brother or a sister or a father. It's hard to imagine.

“How come you don’t take anti-anxiety medication?” you ask. 

“I have Pit Madness Syndrome, and it has a weird chemical reaction with that stuff.”

“Oh.” Subject change. Quickly! "Do you celebrate Christmas?" 

"Not really. I'm not a believer or celebrator of much. You can see what my plans are two days before Christmas."

"Your family doesn't celebrate?"

Hood just grunts, eyes suddenly stormy. You take the hint and stop talking.

The room where the party is isn't particularly special. It's big enough to fit about a hundred people. For all the money the company makes, you'd thought that they could afford to splurge a little and rent an actual hall. Now you know what the profits have been going toward. But the decorations are decently lavish.

"Oh, wait." Hood leans in to speak in your ear. Lightning shoots down your spine. "I don't know your name."

You give it. He repeats it, and you shiver, like your boyfriend just said your name.

"'Kay. Stay in this room. We don't know how much Emerson or his partner knows, but assume they’re willing to do anything to get away with the money."

You nod. “Got it.”

“Hey, it’s Santa!” Bill shouts from across the room. “He made it!”

You smile tightly. “As promised.”

A few people wave. Others cheer. 

“These people really like Christmas, huh?” Hood asks.

“You have no idea,” you say, hyperaware of his hand brushing your back.

“Don’t think I got your name, man,” Bill says as he approaches. He sticks a hand out. “Bill.”

“Todd,” Hood says, taking his hand and shaking. Bill winces at the handshake. You hide a smile.

“Ah, Todd. Right.” Bill looks at you, trying to subtly soothe his hand. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

You shrug. “Never came up.”

“I’m pretty private,” Hood says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “But we’re very much in love. Ain’t that right, baby?”

“Th-that’s right… honey,” you say, face going hot.

“So what do you do for work?” Bill asks. “My girlfriend’s a lawyer.”

You roll your eyes. Hood snorts.

“There’s no way you’re dating anyone. You look like you got dressed in the dark, Billy.”

You cough your laugh into your arm. Bill’s eye twitches.

“Enjoy the party,” he says icily. He glares at you, then stomps away.

“That was amazing, but I think Bill might retaliate,” you say. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout him,” Hood says. “I’ll take care of it.”

You look at him with big eyes. “Hood—”

“Not like that. Just… it’ll be handled. Okay?”

You nod. Maybe it’s insane, but you trust him. “Okay. Want some punch?”

Hood hums. “No alcohol. Thanks.”

You go to the punch bowl, a little relieved to escape Hood’s piercing ocean-eyed stare. He’s intense. Whoever dates him for real is in for a ride. 

Then again, you can’t imagine Hood meeting someone for coffee or dinner. You giggle at the image of him showing up with his guns and helmet. 

“Hey, IT.” A woman in a white sweater you’ve seen maybe once waves at you. “Cool idea, bringing a Santa.”

“Yeah, Emerson’s too cheap to,” the man next to her says. They laugh.

You smile. “Glad you like it.”

You serve yourself two cups of the alcohol-free punch. Then you turn. 

Your smile falls. Across the room is Hood and Tanya Donaldson, resident shit-stirrer. She’s trying to cozy up to him. You sigh and walk over, bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” Hood says, practically dragging you into his side. He takes a cup of punch. “Just met Tanya.”

You can guess exactly how he feels about that.

"Oh, is he your boyfriend?" Tanya asks, eyeing Hood like he's a slab of steak. “I had no idea!”

"Uh-huh," you say. "This is Todd."

She wiggles her fingers, grinning. “So how often do you go to the gym, Todd?” She rests a hand on Hood's arm. "I didn't know Santa was so big and broad."

Your gaze drifts to where you're pretty sure Hood has a gun strapped to his ankle, and the temptation does appear, you won't deny.

But you need this job and it's going to be really hard to explain why Santa's armed and dangerous, so you just grit your teeth. Tanya's the worst for this kind of behavior and she doesn't respect you, so bringing your hunky boyfriend is like dangling a bunch of carrots in her face. 

And it’s not like Todd is actually your boyfriend. 

"Are you flirting with me in front of my girlfriend?" Hood asks, prying her hand off of his arm.

"Flirting?" She claps a hand over her mouth, the movement slightly delayed from all the wine. "No, oh my God! I was just saying—"

"That's really pathetic," Hood says. "Don't do that."

He walks away and you follow, leaving a wobbly Tanya on her own. You smile to yourself.

"Thank you for that," you say.

Hood gives you a thumbs up. "I can plant evidence on her and get her fired if you want."

"No, I don't want to feel damned for eternity. Thanks anyway."

"You have a lot of assholes at your job," Hood says. "But you're not one. I admire that.”

You sigh. "They're not all bad. Alma is cool. She keeps me from quitting.”

"And where is she?"

"At home. She's a sixty-two year old accountant who doesn't care about these parties. Her hip aches when it's cold."

"Mm. Maybe you should follow her lead," Hood says.

"But then who would help you with your spycraft, Hood?"

He allows himself a tiny laugh at that. You wonder how often he laughs. If ever.

“Well, suffering Tanya wasn’t in vain. She said this whole party cost twenty grand.”

“So?”

He gestures grandly. “Does this look like it cost twenty grand to put this together?” 

It's true. The alcohol is the most expensive thing here. No food, except for some people that participated in the potluck, but you don't trust anybody's food here. The decorations are old. Not to mention the Red Hood as your Santa. Your boss might have spared a thousand for tonight. No more. 

“So where did all that money go?” you ask. 

Hood snaps his fingers. “Bingo.” 

“That is so shitty. I got a chocolate-covered pretzel as my Christmas bonus,” you say. 

“A bag of ‘em?” He shakes his head. “Pretty cheap.”

“Ha, no. No, I got one big pretzel. In a box. The box cost more than the pretzel, I think.”

His eyes widen. “Jesus. Even I give more than that to my guys.”

“Got any openings?” you ask, half-joking. 

Hood snorts. “Don't think you'd like what we do. Why d’you stay?” 

You shrug. “Nowhere else to go. I have to eat somehow.” 

“Crappy boss, crappy coworkers, no Christmas bonus. Hell, I feel sorry for ya.”

The Red Hood feels sorry for you. Perhaps you've reached a new low. 

He drinks the punch and coughs. “Ahem, wow. Did you make the punch?”

“No, some people mixed it here.”

“Oh, then I'll be honest. Tastes like a flavor that's not found in nature.” He throws his cup away. You trust him and set your still-full cup on a table.

“I won't even mention the potluck,” you say. 

“Yeesh. Can't eat at everyone's house.” 

“That's what I say!” 

He winks at you. You look away, flustered. 

The crazy thing is, you could get used to this. Well, not specifically Red Hood, but having a boyfriend to bring to these functions, who’ll warn you against gross punch and defend you against Tanya. 

And Hood is surprisingly good at this. If you forget the past hour, you can almost pretend that this is just another office party that you happen to be spending with your new boyfriend. 

"Hey, look! It's Santa! Dude, check me out with Santa!"

One of the finance guys who's very drunk—you want to say that his name is Matt—bounds up to you and Hood. Hood tenses, reaching for his hip (gun!) and you touch his elbow, reminding him to relax. He drops his arm. 

Matt reeks of alcohol, the front of his shirt stained with bourbon. He laughs, forehead shiny with sweat.

"Santaaa, hey, Saint Nick, take a pic with me, man!"

Matt throws his arms around Hood. Hood does not like that and shoves him off accordingly. But Matt doesn't seem to notice and holds up his phone, camera facing front. Hood slaps the phone out of his hand.

"No pictures," he says.

You wince. The guy stares and blinks, taking three to five business days to process what just happened.

"What the fuck, man? That was my phone!"

"Sorry. I'm drunk." Hood sighs like he's physically in pain, then leans back and makes drinking motions with his fingers. "Fuckin' wasted! Did you try those rum shots? Lit, dude!"

The guy cheers up, forgetting all about the phone. "Oh, yeah, for sure! I'm gonna go get one right now! Thanks, Santa!"

"You do that!" Hood says cheerily.

As soon as the guy leaves, Hood returns to his resting scary face.

"Wow," you say.

"I know. I threw up in my mouth a little."

You laugh. Hood grins. Then it fades.

"Damn it. We're getting no closer to finding Emerson's partner. I should just interrogate Emerson until he tells me."

Interrogate makes you feel woozy. You're pretty sure you know what Hood's idea of an interrogation is.

"Wait! We just need to lure them out. If they think their money might be in jeopardy, they'll sneak out of the party to go check on it, right?" you ask.

"Potentially, yes. But how do we lure 'em?"

"There's an alert if someone withdraws more than ten thousand dollars from the company. But I don't have access to the accounts," you say.

Hood smiles slowly. "You don't need it. Remember I mentioned my computer whiz brother?"

"Yeah…” You grimace. “This sounds illegal again.”

"Hell yeah it is. He owes me a favor too. Lemme call him."

You two go off to the side while Hood dials.

"Yeah?" comes a voice on the other end. He doesn’t sound at all like Hood, more like a one percenter from the Diamond District. This is Hood’s brother?

"Aliases only. I need you to withdraw fifty grand from Emerson Corp,” Hood says. 

"Why?”

“‘Cause you owe me a favor. Just do it.”

“Zombie breath.”

“Shortass,” Hood says, voice taking on a distinct older brother tone. 

“You’re such an asshole,” the voice says. He yawns. “B’s wondering if you’re coming tomorrow.”

“I’d rather die again,” Hood says. “And you can tell him I said that.”

“The broody emo bullshit is getting old, dude,” the voice says.

You giggle. Hood looks at you sharply. You press your lips together, properly chastened. Sorry, you mouth.

"Who's that?" the voice asks.

"No one," Hood says. "Did you do it?"

"Chill out. I'm getting past their firewall. So who is that?”

“It’s the TV,” Hood says.

“No, it’s not. That was a lady's laugh, IRL. And you wouldn’t lie if it was someone we know…”

“Mind your damn—”

“I’m helping him with a case,” you blurt. 

Hood throws his hand up, glaring at you. It’s silent on the other end of the phone for a solid ten seconds. Then…

“Holy shit,” Hood’s brother says. “You do have a girlfriend. Wait. Hold on. This is wild. You don’t even have a social security number.”

“I do not have a girlfriend!” Hood snaps, drawing the attention of some coworkers. You nudge him. He exhales through his nose.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, you little fucker,” he says, quieter. “She’s telling the truth.”

“Can I ask your girlfriend a question? Respectfully, what were you thinking? You can do so much b—”

“Text me when it’s done,” Hood growls and hangs up.

You look at each other for a moment. 

“You didn't hear any of that,” Hood says. “Got it?”

“Got it.” 

“Good. Let's see who gets scared. He should do it right about…” 

His phone beeps. You look around the room. 

Soon, your culprit reveals himself. Matt!

Holy shit. 

"He didn't want a picture," Hood says slowly. "He was frisking me! Motherfucker."

"But isn't he drunk?" you ask.

"No." Hood sighs in disgust. "How did I miss that? Br—someone I know does that all the time, spilling alcohol on himself so he smells like he's been drinking. God. Oldest trick in the book!"

"Do you think he knows you're the Red Hood?"

"No. But he might suspect something. Let's go.” 

You follow Matt out of the party. He's walking fast. Yeah. Definitely your guy. 

Down the hallway, Matt turns around and makes direct eye contact with you. You panic. 

“Hood!” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says. “Follow my lead.” 

Loudly, he laughs and puts an arm around your waist. “C’mon, baby, no one’ll know.”

And then you're being herded into a janitor’s closet. 

You stumble in, confused and reeling from how easily Hood plays the affectionate boyfriend role. He follows you in, shuts the door, and pulls the chain dangling from the ceiling. The single light bulb turns on. 

You take care to not knock over any cleaning supplies. You don't see the mop on the floor, however, and you trip backwards on the handle. 

Hood's reaction time is impeccable. He jerks forward to catch you, tugging you back on your feet with his hands on your arms. 

“Y’alright?” he asks. 

“Uh-huh,” you say, mildly mortified. “Thanks.”

He lets go. You shift on your feet. 

“How long are we gonna stay here?” you ask. 

Hood checks his phone. “Well, he should've moved on by now. Let's—”

The doorknob jiggles. You look at Hood in fear. His expression is similar. 

“Pretend!” you whisper, and that's all he needs to understand and move. 

You're expecting your arms around Hood, maybe exaggeratedly feeling him up. You are not expecting Hood to hoist you up by the backs of your thighs and press you against the wall. You squeal, arms shooting out to hold onto his neck. Hood's beard ends up in your mouth and you spit it out. 

The door swings open, revealing a very tipsy couple. 

“Oops!” the woman says, grinning. “Sorry. Carry on.”

The guy gives a thumbs-up. “True love.”

You smile awkwardly. Something is pressing into your hip.

“True love,” Hood deadpans. “Rock on.”

As soon as the door closes, you're squirming. 

“What is that?” you hiss. 

“My gun! Oh my God, it's my gun,” Hood says, quickly setting you down. “It's not…”

He trails off and backs away. You stand there, processing what just happened. 

“That wasn’t—”

“I didn’t—”

You both stop. Hood adjusts his beard. 

“You're really strong,” you say, wringing your hands. 

Hood nods. “Sorry about the, uh…”

“Yeah, let's just not talk about this.”

“Yup. Find Matt?” 

“Absolutely.” 

You open the door and peek out. The hallway is empty. Glory be.

“All clear,” you say, and Hood is on your heels as you sneak out. 

“Any ideas on where he'd go?” Hood asks. 

“Matt works in a cubicle like the rest of us. Emerson’s office is on the twelfth floor.” 

“Fine. We'll hit Emerson's office first. More privacy, and maybe they'll both be there. Two birds.”

“Emerson's office is protected by a password lock. He changes it every night,” you say, scurrying to keep up with Hood. 

“That's fine. I got a key right here,” he says, patting his holster.

“Wait! If the lock is tampered with, it sets off an alarm and security will come. You can't shoot it, Hood.”

He stops and sighs. “Why is everything so goddamn complicated? Alright, new plan. I'm gonna get my stuff from where we were and I'll break in the old-fashioned way.” 

Fifteen Minutes Later.

“This seems really unsafe!” you say, watching Hood dangle outside a three story window on a wire. He's attached to a grappling hook but still. Still! 

“Eh, I died once. Didn't stick. Hold the hook.” 

“I am!” As if you'd do anything but. You don't want the Red Hood to become Red Goo. 

Chilly December wind makes your eyes water and your nose cold. Still, you hold on. 

“Almost there!” he says. 

“Hey! What're you doing?” 

You whirl around and close your eyes due to the flashlight shining at them. Even though the lights are on. 

An elderly security guard glares at you. It's a good thing you're not an actual criminal… though after tonight, you're not so sure. 

“Um.” You try to hold onto the hook while hiding it behind your back. “Bird watching?”

The guard turns off the flashlight and tucks it into his belt. He slowly walks to you. 

“If you're doing something illegal, Miss, you're in big trouble.”

Well, this is fantastic. Of course it would be you that gets caught. 

The guard is getting closer. Your grip is sweaty. He peers over your shoulder. You let go of the hook, praying to every spirit out there that Hood is as good as everyone says he is. 

The guard looks around and scratches his head. You shrug, heart in your throat. 

“See?” you say. “Bird watching.”

He frowns at you. “I've got my eye on you.”

“And I commend you for that.” 

“Are you sassing me?” 

Are you? You might be. You've been spending too much time with Hood. 

Hood! You turn and look out the window. You don't see any red goo below, but it's also cold and foggy. Shit. You hurry to the elevators. 

“Okay, happy holidays, bye!”

The elevator doors open. You press twelve and close the door before the guard can consider getting on with you and shooting you a hairy eyeball all the way down. 

You hurry out and run down to Emerson's office. The door has been left ajar, which is good, right?

Bang!

You throw yourself against the wall. Shit. Maybe not. 

Ugh, you told Hood no shooting! Son of a bitch. 

“We're doing this tonight!” That's Emerson's voice. “I don't care if I have to shoot my way out.” 

Shoot? Oh no.

You carefully peek through the crack. Hood is standing with his hands behind his head. His beard has blood in it. Emerson is in front of him, gun to his head. 

Hood catches your eye. He gives you the tiniest head shake. You swallow. 

You can't just leave him there. 

Okay. Think. Emerson's back is to you. You can't see Matt, but you figure he's far enough away to not immediately shoot you. Hopefully. 

Anyway, what's your other option? The feisty relic upstairs? You can't risk any civilians getting hurt. 

Technically you're also a civilian but not tonight. Tonight you might as well be Batman. 

You slowly pull the door open further. You sneak in, then hide behind the secretary's desk.

“Is it done?” Emerson snaps.

That's when you see Matt in the corner on a laptop. 

“It takes time,” Matt says, obviously stressed too. 

“Well, hurry up!” Emerson looks at Hood. “Then we'll dispose of Santa here.”

Hood shrugs. “You can certainly try. Many have. ‘M still here.”

“Lots of bravado for a man in a costume,” Emerson sneers. “What are you, police?”

Hood groans. “As fucking if! I'm not a cop.” 

He hums. “Perhaps not. Otherwise this place would be crawling with them already. But you're alone.”

“How d'you know I'm alone?” Hood asks. 

You're glad he's calm because you're feeling the beginnings of another panic attack. But you can't panic, not now. The adrenaline pulsing through you is the only thing keeping you from going catatonic. 

You have no weapon, no plan. How the hell are you supposed to help Hood?

“You're bluffing,” Emerson says. 

“He has a girlfriend,” Matt says. “Some IT girl. She might come looking for him.”

“Then we'll take care of her too.”

Matt looks uncomfortable but he doesn't say anything. Hood is still cool as a cucumber. 

“She won't look for me. We had a fight. I forgot to buy the candy she likes.”

Candy? Why would—oh!

On the secretary's desk is a glass bowl filled with mini candy canes. You wrap your hands around it. 

“She knows my favorite,” Hood says, locking eyes with you.

You throw the bowl with all your might. Emerson is too slow—Hood grabs the bowl one-handed and swings it, knocking the gun from Emerson's hand. The candy explodes into pieces. Hood swings again, this time into Emerson's head. The bowl cracks. Emerson crumples to the floor. 

“Are you o—”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In a blink, Hood wraps one arm around your waist and yanks you to the floor, covering your body. You curl into him on instinct. 

“I got you, I got you,” he says, patting your shoulder. “You okay?”

You nod, words not coming right now. You squeeze his hand. Hood seems to understand and he scoots you both behind Emerson’s desk. Then he loads his gun and cocks it.

“Stay here,” he says, then fires six shots. 

“Goddamnit!” Matt yells across the room. “This wasn't the plan! You're not supposed to be here!”  

Hood laughs, which is absolutely terrifying. “Don't talk to me about ruined plans, buddy. I've been waiting all night for an excuse to shoot somebody. Please make my night.” 

Matt fires four more shots. 

“Fuck you, cop!” 

“What the fuck? Fuck you more! I'm not a fucking cop!”

“Maybe it's the way you stand,” you say, teeth chattering from anxiety. 

Hood squeezes your shoulder comfortingly. “I stand like a cop? Gross. I gotta work on that.” 

“You're somebody!” Matt yells. “You're not just some guy, Todd, don't lie to me. You and that chick from IT are in cahoots.”

You huff. “He knows your name but not mine?”

“I’d take it as a compliment.”

Matt fires again. Hood tucks you behind him. 

“He won’t kill anybody,” he says, with way too much confidence, in your opinion. 

“Oh, is that why he's peacefully shooting at us?”

“He's scared, sure. But he can’t kill. Trust me, I know. Hey, Matt!” 

“What?”

Hood stands up. Your eyes bug out of your head. 

“Hood!” you hiss. “Hood!”

He ignores you, of course. 

“You won’t hurt anyone,” Hood says. He starts walking toward Matt. “You're not a killer, Matt.”

And all this time you thought Hood was sort of sane. Nope. 

“I will shoot you!” Matt warns. 

“Aw. You wouldn't shoot Santy Claus, would you?” 

Matt pulls the trigger. You gasp. It clicks. The magazine is empty. 

Hood closes the distance between them and grabs the gun, then elbows Matt in the face. Matt sprawls onto the floor. 

“Yeah, I don't risk my life on human emotion,” Hood says, loud enough so you can hear. “People can be so unpredictable. I will take a chance on a gun that only fires seven rounds, though. For a guy in finance, you're not very good with numbers, Matty.” 

You sigh in relief, slumping against the desk. After tonight, you're retiring. 

“Y'okay over there?” Hood asks. 

“Yeah.”

It's quiet for a bit. Then Hood returns and offers you a hand to help you stand. You do so on shaky limbs. 

He's got a cut on his eyebrow and a bruise on his cheek. You frown. 

“I'm sorry I let go of the hook. I thought—”

“You let go of the hook?”

You stop. “Um. No?” 

Hood squints at you. “Choosing to forgive you for that.” 

“I knew you were inside the office!”

“Yeah, sure.” 

“I'm not the only one taking risks,” you say. “Matt still fired at you.”

“Eh.” Hood shrugs. “He’s a crap shot. And I counted the rounds. I maintain my point. Factually, he could not shoot me.”

“You could've told me the gun was empty,” you say. 

“I wanted you to think I was cool and brave.” 

You laugh. “I already think that.”

Hood looks at you for a moment, like he’s trying to see right down into your soul. Intense. You cross your arms.

“So, um, ready to ditch this party?” you ask. 

“With pleasure.”

“What about them?” you ask, pointing to Matt.

“I have backup arriving soon. Let's get your coat.” 

You get your things while Hood changes back into his usual garb. He meets you at the back exit, the one that leads to an alleyway, Santa suit gone. The party's winding down and most are getting into their cars. You're grateful no one stops to ask where you disappeared to. 

There's police outside, but they're not here for Emerson. It's Bill that's being questioned by Commissioner Gordon. You stop short at the sight. 

“Hood… what did you do?” 

“Hm? Oh! There might have been some discrepancies in Bill's finances and he might have committed fraud to pay off his gambling debts. All circumstantial, though.”

“Please don't tell me you framed my coworker because he's a jerk,” you say. 

“No, but I'm not above that, for the record. I recognized Bill from when I was casing the Iceberg Lounge. That's where he racked up all that debt.”

You nod slowly. “That's how you knew his name.”

“Yup. He was a nobody, so I didn't bother with him. Had I known he was such a menace at work, well…”

You grin. “It's okay. I appreciate it now.” 

Hood nods. The silence is awkward for a few seconds. 

“So—”

“You don't have to keep working here,” he says. “You can leave if you wanna.”

“Hood…”

He puts up a hand. “Hear me out. I have a contact at Wayne Enterprises. I can get you an interview. Hell, I can get you the job.”

“And what would I owe you?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Think of it as a thank you for tonight. You didn't have to help me but you did.”

You open and close your mouth. “I don't… I don't know what to say.”

“Don't gotta say a thing,” Hood says quietly. “If anyone deserves a new year, it's you.”

“Oh.” Your throat feels tight suddenly. “Oh, Hood, that's really—that's nice of you.”

“It's been known to happen. Don't spread it around though.”

“But I don't want the job without interviewing!” you say. “I want to get it on my own.”

Hood nods. “Deal.”

You want to hug him but that seems like too much, even with all you’ve done tonight. So you take out a candy cane instead.

“I salvaged one from the bowl,” you say. “Merry Christmas, Hood.”

He takes it, tucking it into his pocket. “Merry Christmas. Need a ride?”

You shake your head. “I'm fine. See you around?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Stay safe, alright?”

“Oh, I will. Will you?”

He laughs. “No promises.” 

Then you blink and he's gone. You shove your hands into your coat pockets. 

In each pocket, there's a handful of Warheads. You smile.

[cuubism]

I REALLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYY LOVE YOUR BELOVED PROFESSOR DREAM FIC!!!!!!!! PEOPLE TEND TO FORGET THAT!!! EVEN IN CANON!!!! HES FULL OF LOVE!!!! AND PASSION!!! AND HE CARES SO MUCH IT LITERALLY DOOMS HIM!!!!! AND IF ONLY HES BEING GIVEN A MUCH MORE KINDER CIRCUMSTANCES!! HE WOULD BEHAVES EXACTLY LIKE YOUR FIC!!! I FEEL SO CRAZT!!!! PLEASE NEVER DIE I LOVE YPUR WORKS SO MUCH!!!

I've grown quite fond of him myself 🥺 @five-and-dimes and I discussed him at length and created more lore for him. It was determined that Dream's earnest whimsy probably got him bullied a lot when he was younger. Not since he met Hob though.... it's probably a coincidence 🤷‍♀️ surely everyone just realized the error of their ways and decided to grow up and be kinder! Dream knew it would happen some day :)

-

Dream is still reeling as he reaches the cafe where he's meant to get afternoon coffee with Hob. He feels a bit shaky, but happy. Joyful. In disbelief.

When Cori had cornered him after class, Dream had been sure he was going to shove him up against a wall, or throw his books on the ground, or any of the other number of things he seemed to get satisfaction out of doing. He'd clutched his books tight, bracing himself.

Instead, Cori had, with halting, uncomfortable words, apologized to him. Actually apologized! Dream had been wary at first, sure it was just another way to hurt his feelings--he's been called gullible many times and he knows there's truth to it--but Cori hadn't taken it back, or suddenly turned on him again like he had every other time Dream had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed genuine.

It was what Dream had always wanted, what he had always hoped for, so decided to take it and just pray that Cori wouldn't change his mind again in the future. Or trip him as he walked away.

He didn't, though. And as Dream left to walk to his next class, he couldn't help but feel victorious. He knew he would get through to him eventually! He'd always known that eventually people would grow out of their juvenile pranks and learn to treat others better. And finally it was starting to happen.

None of the other usual suspects bothered him that day, either. Nobody tried to trip him, or snickered when he said something overly sentimental in class. It was like overnight the world had woken up and decided to better itself. It was magical.

So he's still shaking a bit when he sits down across from Hob, who's already gotten him his mocha latte. When he doesn't say anything at first, just takes several long sips of his drink, Hob nudges his leg under the table.

"Everything alright?"

"Cori," Dream says, "apologized to me."

He must have milk foam on his lip, for Hob reaches across the table to wipe it away with his thumb, lingering on the corner of Dream's mouth. "Did he?"

Dream nods. "It- it did not seem to be a joke. Hob, I think he actually learned."

Hob smiles sweetly. "That's great, honey."

"Nobody tripped me today," Dream muses. "Or made fun of what I said in class. I cannot believe it. I knew that eventually people would grow up and learn how to treat others kindly, but it's startling to see it happen in real time."

"They must have learned from your example," Hob says. He takes Dream's hand on the table and starts playing idly with his fingers. Hob is very touchy-feely with him, always holding his hand, or playing with his fingers like they're a fidget toy, or petting his hair while they're lying in bed together. Dream found it strange at first. He was used to others he had attempted to date wanting to rough him up a little. When he questioned it, they would say, with a laugh, you're just too sheltered. Dream didn't think he was, particularly, he just didn't understand wanting to push someone around. At least not without finding out if they even liked it.

When Dream mentioned it, Hob had said, with a grimace, that Dream's kindness could be misinterpreted as innocence, and it made people want to 'corrupt him.' Dream didn't get it, but there were a lot of things he 'didn't get', at least according to other people. In any case, Hob didn't do that, because he knew Dream didn't like it, so Dream is content now. And he has Hob to at least attempt to interpret other people's odd behavior for him.

"I hope it sticks," he says, worriedly. "I would hate for Cori and the others to backslide now that they're finally making progress."

"Oh, don't worry," Hob says, bringing Dream's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. He looks at Dream over their joined hands, gaze absolutely sure, a look that never fails to make Dream shiver pleasantly when it's directed at him. "I think it'll stick."

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

Jamil Viper: Exchanging Regret

The holidays are a time of reminiscing... fond memories, cherished gifts... In this case, the gift exchange was unfulfilled lol ♡ Anyway, here's some bittersweet angst featuring Jamil! Enjoy ♡

There's a present under the tree... One he dares not touch.

A Pandora's box, he refuses to open.

The road has been quiet as he travels, distancing himself from the world. Kalim's constant chatter feels like a distant memory, fragments of moments lost to time.

How long has the journey been? The road he walks growing narrow the further he goes.

Cities filled with blurry faces, with no names to forget. The hollow feelings of freedom, of ones left behind. He doesn't have time to look back when his future lies ahead, carrying on once more.

How many letters has he written without a sender? A name he doesn't dare write flashing before his eyes. Is it so much to hope that he gets a reply back? Unsaid words written on unsent letters, buried under years of unspoken regrets. With feelings miles away...

The present is worn, once bright paper now dull. Your name sits faded on the tag, with his smudged underneath. You had given it to him before he left, a parting gift that meant goodbye. He should have opened it years ago, leaving it behind with the others. Yet...

If he opened this gift, what would he have left of you?

Distant memories? Lost time?

He didn't want that to be all you were...

He didn't want that to be all he was...

♡ - ♡ - ♡ - ♡

You receive a gift in the mail, the sender unknown and without an address. The paper is old, aged over time and dull in color. The names on the tag are faded, smudged and unreadable. A letter is attached to the top of it, the inside completely blank.

It reminds you of him, of a day you'd rather forget...

The sorrow of parting, of a goodbye half-fulfilled... Was this what he wanted to give you that day? A hesitant exchange, denied at the last minute...

You take your time opening it, lifting the lid to find something that made your heart sink...

The ticket is faded now, meant for a flight years too late for you to make. The simple message next to it makes your stomach ache, a sickening feeling as you tried not to cry.

Come with me, and travel by my side.

Perhaps some gifts... are better left unopened.

Thank you! ♡

I was going to write this with a specific OC in mind (one of my friend's) but then I decided to just make it a x Reader, since the idea could work with multiple OC x Canons belonging to my friends lol ♡

Tagging: @cheerleaderman, @scint1llat3, @part-sadist, @fell-e, @viperbunnies

@justm3di0cr3, @theolivetree123 (since you seemed interested when I posted about it lol ♡), @0honeybones0, @bunniehunn

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Personally, love the idea that’s in the notes about accidentally making the portal 3-D when it was meant to be flat and the tunnel of the portal was meant to be more of a short safety corridor rather than what actually happens (the portal is Right Up Against the safety doors).

With that in mind, and with my limited knowledge… it could be it was a secondary system?

When you watch the opening, you can see that there’s an electric spark, but the portal doesn’t open. And, to our knowledge, the Fentons just leave it on like that. We also know from the proto-portal that they had non-electrical components—such as the diet soda that got added to the portal (it’s been a while, I forgot how it Actually Worked, but Jack accidentally added soda instead of… whatever it was he was supposed to). We can assume that this secondary component is ectoplasm relatively safely, especially with the existence of ecto filters in canon. Like, sure, we assume that the ectofilters are there to filter ectoplasm that leaks FROM the portal, because I don’t recall if it’s ever specified and I am not hunting down the episode to see if it IS, but if it’s actually the other way around—pulling ectoplasm from the environment to fuel the portal, filtering out ectoplasm that’s, say, too chunky for a smooth circulation through the machinery—then it makes sense that the portal machinery isn’t just ELECTRICAL wiring, but ectoplasmic… plumbing, I’ll say.

In short. We assume that the tunnel is a corridor where it’d be relatively safe for humans to be in, in theory. The Fentons test their first activation outside this corridor, just in case, but forgot that this meant that they’d have to turn on the ecto-system FIRST inside of it. Which they don’t do, or thought they did but did not—mixups happen. Or—the electric system has to be on first and THEN the ecto-system, otherwise it doesn’t work, so this isn’t actually their first attempt, just the first time they forgot to turn on the ecto-system before the electrical system. They didn’t know the portal would take up the whole space, not necessarily.

And so Danny goes in, and accidentally turns on the ecto-system, and suddenly there’s a bunch of electricity and ectoplasm and a portal opening up right on top of him.

It was a safety switch

So I'm actually obsessed with the idea that the "on" button Danny hit going into the portal wasn't actually an on button like one you get in a computer.

In basically any legally compliant workspace where I am (and I think in the western world broadly) you get these big red EMERGENCY STOP buttons that tend to be every few feet and on every machine so if something goes wrong people don't have to run far to make what ever's going wrong stop going wrong

Now to me that thing looks pretty much exactly like this thing

With a different layout, but the big red button is the subject of interest

Jack and Maddie seem to have cartoon consistency in their lab safety protocols, which checks out honestly given that's what they are, but It makes sense to me that they didn't so much put the ON button on the inside of the portal as that they flipped the power off to finish the final checks on the portal and then

Forgot About The Emergency Stop

(Incase people dont know, emergency stop buttons stop all the machinery it's attatched to. This can be anything from Only One Machine to literally an entire floor or building depending on the levels of "oh shit everything needs to stop RIGHT NOW." They're usually 'released' at a seperate point which can be anything from the keys in the panel above to a seperate button/keypad. Or, like the ones we had in our high school, the original red button that was pushed but you had to twist it to get it to pop back up. Kind of like a weird child lock)

So I'm proposing that the Fenton Parents, instead of being idiots in their planning and putting the on switch somewhere insane when they were drawing the schematics, actually built in a safety feature they forgot they tripped

Essentially, the Fenton parents were EXTRA safe in their lab and it half killed Danny

[penvisions]

underbelly {gone to the dogs} - a holiday special

Pairing: Boston QZ! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: You and Joel have an understanding, a new thing between you both. Where once biting words were exchanged and annoyance flared, now there's this simmering thing that slowly takes hold. And who is Joel Miller if not a giving man at his core, determined to do right by the people he lets into his pack?

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: canon typical language, outbreak fic, age gap (about 15 years), sub! joel miller, dom / sub dynamics, sexual content, rough sex, p in v, smut, unprotected p in v (it's the end of the world, y'all), oral (m and f receiving), sappy gift giving, holiday fic, some good ole pwp (well a little bc it's me lol)

Fic Notes: set at the beginning of their relationship, so between chapters five and six, i believe

A/N: hello, my loves! this is an apology of sorts for joel's behavior in the most recent chapter of the main series 😅felt like i needed to even the playing field a bit hehe. happy holidays and hope the days are good to y'all!

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

The table in front of you is an organized mess. From the small baggies of pills and powder, to the piles of hand rolled cigarettes and joints separated in plastic bins, there are four more full of medicine and vitamins that aren’t offered at the infirmary. This is most of the current stock you have, save for a bin that contains five to ten baggies of each drug and pill you offer safely secured underneath the loose panel of wood that acts as one of the many patch ups to the walls of your apartment, this one in your bedroom right beside the bathroom door.

You’ve got a beaten up notebook open as you’re looping out names and exchanges owed. A tally of who you traded with the past two weeks and what they asked for in the next two. There’s a lot to organize and you take an afternoon each week to keep it all neatly transcribed. The small bottle of ink you have is beside the little stamp you’ve kept well hidden from anyone else. Not wanting it to fall into the wrong hands and end up being used on product that is certainly not yours or up to your standards.

Tess had just gotten up from the couch, her resting spot for a moment after work. An inner jacket pocket full of baggies she was about to go and deliver to the tenants of the building next door. Just as you’re about to get up and stretch your legs, the front door opens after a jingling of keys and the lock turning.

Joel.

He’s back late for the day, but you don’t mind getting the random hours to spend with him. You do a lap or two around the table before you set a pot of water up on the stove to boil in an attempt at a late lunch. There are a few cans of potatoes you found last week and you wanted to try and make something soft and hot- mashed potatoes.

Snow dusts the top of his shoulders as you watch him carefully lock the door behind himself, his thick fingers sliding the deadbolt and side latch locks. It’s all in his hair too, darkening the locks by contrast, though you can see the gray beginning to thread itself between the strands. Without a word, Joel is turning and something flies out of his grip and towards you across the room.

You catch it, though the hit of the hard thing is cushioned by a swath of thick paper around it and a twine bow tied to keep it closed.

“Joel, what the hell?” But he doesn’t respond, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair you had been in before disappearing into the bedroom. His boots clunk with the heavy steps he takes, the pain in his back and hips worse today without him needing to tell you. Sighing, you set the electric burner to the lowest setting and sit back at the table.

The little wrapped item gets set to the side, not forgotten but saved for later.

“Why didn’t you open it?”

“It’s just more of the same. Wanted to catalogue everything I already have before adding more to the roster,” You swoop the pencil in your hand over the expanse of the table, it was clear what was going on, wasn’t it? Why did he have to pick arguments with you even now, you’ve shared your apartment and bed with him for nearly a year. But sometimes you still feel like you didn’t know all of him and while you had resigned yourself to that very likely reality, you would take what he could offer you. What he was willing and wanting to offer you, because when you did- the tension in his shoulders eased just a bit, that scowl he wears so well lessens just a bit, his dark eyes lighten enough to let you glimpse at the person you assume he used to be.

“Darlin’, it ain’t none of that.” When you tilt your head to the side, much like an entranced dog, you can see the way his adam’s apple bobs, his next words the softest you’ve ever hear from him. In both sentiment and tone, aside from the night everything shifted. “It’s a gift for you. For the holiday.”

“Joel…” The confusion leaks out of you, replaced by a warmth in your chest. It’s been…god, it’s been years since anyone got you anything for the holidays. And here he is, all brooding and big and violent, giving you a piece of himself you hadn’t previously seen. His eyes are heavy on you as the paper crinkles, the twine unravels.

Atop the notebook, nestled in the ‘gift wrap’ is a little wooden figure. A dog. A cane corso dog.

A physical depiction of the very thing that lended you the nickname you’ve taken on in stride. Adapted in your endeavor to provide things for the people that the remnants of government forces refused to or asked for too much in exchange for. You were always giving, sacrificing, scrounging, never taking anything for yourself unless absolutely necessary. But this? This was something just for you, something made just for you but the looks of it. The scrapes and a blade obvious in the carving.

The gasp that leaves you does nothing to help the rapid flutter of your heart.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, sharp eyes watching the way water droplets cling to your skin as you emerge from your shower. The door was wide open, the space heater Joel had found among the rubble now fixed and set between the bedroom and bathroom threshold. A lame attempt at bringing some warmness to where you both curled up at night.

The cold was getting to him, his body aching. Not just sore, but aching in the way that begins to spur thoughts of old age in his mind. He’s not that old, he doesn’t think. But he is a hell of a lot older than you and he sees it in the way you perk up at the sight of snow softly falling from the sky. In the way you offer to run to the commissary or the food hall for everyone when there’s just no energy for standing at the stove or tinkering with something that’s been broken one too many times.

Your eyes are on him as you approach but he doesn’t feel like he used to when they pinned him down in a challenge. Now he feels rooted to the spot, waiting to see what you would do with anticipation rather than anger at being challenged. He no longer feels like you’re heeling him, like he’s nothing but dirt and grime underneath the tread of your boots, flesh that was torn apart and stuck between your teeth.

No. Now he feels like he’s been granted a fresh breath of air straight from your lungs.

And he’s reveling in it. He can’t help out but reach with itching fingers, trailing over the silk of your damp skin. The hitch in your breath he can fucking hear is driving him wild, the way you freely walk around like this when before it was all growls and threats if he even so much as managed a glimpse of what you look like underneath your threadbare clothing. Of the real you that hides behind the harsh persona and attitude you’ve taken on as a shell against the world.

He sees it now, as you let him trail his fingers up to the crooks of your elbows and tug you between his legs. His lips press to your skin, a groan escaping from his chest despite the pull in his shoulder muscles at the action.

The shift of the dynamic was sudden, brought on by seeing you in a new element. One where he was able to glimpse the person you used to be. And it had made his heart both stutter and ache. If you had crossed paths before the end of the world, you would’ve thrown him for a loop, stuck in his head until he carved out time to do something about it. But as the universe played it’s hand, he’s still crossed paths with you. That’s good enough for him, despite the biting words you used to mean as you berated him and bossed him around- shoved the barrel of a gun in his face and demanded what the hell he thought he was doing trying to edge in on the smuggling scene here in this zone like he owned the place.

Because he didn’t then, and he still doesn’t now. No, that’s you.

And he’s now the muscle in it, determined to do right by the situation. It feels good to step down, to follow the orders he gets from you or from you by Tess’s mouth. To just be a piece in the game he had been heading for far too long in far too many places and scenarios. It was nice to just turn off his brain and listen.

He feels much the same way now as he watches with a quick thrumming of his heart and blood rushing to his cock as you move to kneel behind him on the bed still in only your thin towel. Hands gently kneed into his aching muscles, and he leans into the touch. It was a good thing, he thinks, to have taken the time to carve that figure for you. A gift. A frivolous thing he wanted to give to you in the midst of chaos and too cold weather, the half-smile it brought to your face worth the effort of a new hobby he had dared to try.

When prodding fingers find a particular hard knot between his neck and shoulder blade, the moan he lets out pinches his face up in pain.

“Lemme get the menthol stuff, it’ll help.”

He watches as you strut across the room and disappear into the kitchen, towel now gone and all your skin on display. He feels the swell of his cock harden in his jeans and presses a palm to relieve some of the ache there too.

He’s always been the one to lead, to take charge but he’s thinking more and more that you like being that way. And his mind blanks as you stand in front of him with hardened nipples and a jar of homemade lotion that smells far too strong to handle at the moment.

When you upcap it, he reaches out to stop you. The puzzled look that has the hint of annoyance behind it has him rolling his lips, words stuck in his throat. As the silence drags on, you must see the way that his eyes are darkened by arousal and contemplation. But you don’t move until he manages to unstick the words from where they’re lodged.

“Just…not right now. Your hands are good enough, we can save it for another time, yeah?”

Without a word, you’re twisting the cap back on the jar and then pushing a small hand to the center of his chest.

“Then lay back.”

“What for?” He raises a thick brow at the command, ready to dispel whatever hesitation that lingers in his body.

“Gonna take care of you. You gonna let me?”

All he can muster up is a nod before he listens and does exactly what you ask of him. He lets go of everything, every thought and you take the reigns from his hands. The clink of his belt is loud, breaking the drone of the heater working in the corner and the sound of his zipper as him closing his eyes tightly.

“You gifted me something and now let me do the same. Just lemme take the lead, turn that brain off for a moment, yeah?”

Joel sighs out a ‘yes’ as he lifts his hip at the tap of your palms there, allowing you to peel the jeans and boxers from his legs. Goosebumps crop up at the cooler temperature, the heat of his hardened cock bobs against his stomach. He’s never been this way before. Not with you and barely with Tess, physical and sexual interactions always on his terms, on his conditions. Giving into you know feels right, he trusts you. Even as he feels the nip of sharp teeth on his neck before a warm tongue sooths it over.

“You can be such a good boy sometimes.” And the praise falling from your lips in a confident tone should irk him, but it does nothing but cause him to jerk below the waist and clench his teeth together as he feels it wash over him. It’s genuine, not teasing. He should know, because he’s normally the one praising you in such a manner. It’s a nice moment, he realizes, letting you take the lead. Allowing himself to fall into your commands in a less than serious way. In a more serious way. This is everything.

His chest heaves as you move down his body, the denim shirt he’s wearing unbuttoned as you go, lips trailing over coarse chest hair, the trail that moves down down down…

The feeling of him in your mouth is a heady sensation, it’s lighting up your body in hot sparkles that almost vibrate in intensity. The salty, musky taste of him on your tongue is one you would never tire of, even if he seldom lets you indulge him this way.

Down to his core, he’s a giver. He’s someone who gives himself to those around him and that’s obvious even in the bedroom. He always pleasures you, with his plush, delectable lips. His thick fingers and wide hands, the edge of his strong nose. The heft and feel of his cock something you crave just as much as he seems to be willing to sink into your pulsing heat at any chance he could get. It wasn’t just about fucking. Hell, it wasn’t even just about being fucked by him- it was something more. A man whose walls were built so high, bricks unsettling and gaps forming as you both share daily responsibilities and nightly routines. You were bonded.

But right now? He’s given himself wholly over to you.

His lips form a hard line as you nose along the leading head of his cock, flushed a pretty dusky pink, the exact same shade. But you can’t fight the frown that threatens to take over your own as you press your them to the slit to gather the pearlescent drop there, tongue peeking out to taste it.

“Lemme hear you, Joel.” That paired with the hungry way you swallow him down has him surging up with a strangled expletive followed by your name. After that, he hardly has any trouble letting loose deep groans and guttural growls as you take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks. His hips lift as you take him as deep as you can, leaking head nudging the back of your throat in the most delicious way.

It's dangerous, how powerful you feel right now. With Joel Miller loose limbed and compliant beneath you, surrendering to whatever you deem he deserves.

But nothing compares to the grip his hands form on your hips and the frantic look in his eyes as you straddle his thick thighs and sink down on him until your bottom is flush with them. Panting, you grind slowly, reveling in the feel of him deep and stretching you to make room for him to nestle. He’s hitting that sweet spot only he can reach and starts burst in the corners of your vision as you meet his gaze.

He’s never looked for open and recked, eyes blown own, breath puffing out in harsh pants, lips glistening from where you swear drool shines over them…

Tracing the bounce of your chest as you continue to grind against him, pleasure swathing you both in a tingling that crawls over every inch of skin. You clench around him, pulling a tortured sound from him as he fights off the feeling of bucking up into you. The shaking of his legs makes you feel pride spark low in your belly just as a flash of heat does.

“Hold on tight, I’m gonna take a ride.”

His head knocks back harshly onto the bed when you lift up and slam back down, eyes fluttering shut as all he does is hold on tight to your hips and lets you take care of him.

taglist: @sawymredfox @tuquoquebrute @orcasoul @itsokbbygrl @keylimebeag

@n7cje @hiddenbabynyc @ameagrice @everythingiwanttoread @furiousmushroom

@vivian-pascal @76bookworm76 @dugiioh @jellybeanxc @littlemisspascal

@undercoverpena @janaispunk @jessthebaker @persephone-girl

@corazondebeskar @harryscum @morgaussy @burntheedges @pascalpvnk

@cavillscurls @joelmillerisapunk @copperhalfcent @blackcatgreengrape

@the-orange-tabby-cat @yxtkiwiyxt @punkshort @cumberpegg

@littlemisspascal @mosssbawls @luxurychristmaspudding @cherrycolouredflunk

@tobethlehem @axshadows @ameagrice @theoraekenslover @mellymbee

@liciafonseca @tobethlehem @jessthebaker

graphics provided by the lovely @/saradika-graphics and @/cafekitsune

[muzansfangs]

hi!! i really loved your NSFW alphabet for aizen… is there anyway i could request one for ukitake? thank you so much for all the work you create, everything you write is such a treat!

Nsfw alphabet – Ukitake Jushiro (letters b, c, j, k).

Starring: Jushiro Ukitake x f!reader;

Format: headcanons;

Warnings: nsfw, nipple play, sub!reader, switch!jushiro, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, masturbation;

Plot: some nsfw head canons about Jushiro Ukitake, based on some letters of the alphabet;

Author note: Hello there! As I have already had the occasion to tell you in another 'alphabet request’, I am not a huge fan of this format. In the future, I may decide to write the missing letters, but as for now enjoy the ones I have picked! I am sorry if this is not your cup of tea, but alphabets sometimes get repetitive and it is not exactly a turn on for me to write. Having said that, enjoy your unexpected Christmas present!

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

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

Jushiro loves and lavishes every single part of your body. He is, without dispute, the kind of man who puts his partner first and kisses the ground she walks on. Nothing in the world matters more than you. But he is a man too and, as such, he is subjected to carnal urges and forbidden reveries. Surely, Jushiro is reserved and would rather not indulge in such deplorable debates, but if you asked him such a question he would not back down.

His favorite body part of you are your breasts. Jushiro loves to kiss them gently, lips tracing their outline, especially during foreplays to make your nipples harden. This man simply admits he could spend hours molding them, suckling on the buds reverently, watching with lovesick eyes the way they sway and jiggle when he thrusts into you, or you ride him. He is definitely a boobs man.

The first answer is directly connected to the second part of the question. About himself, he loves his lap. Sometimes, fatigue and his chronic illness do not allow him to overexert himself and this is when he lets you straddle his lap to ride him. The pace is slow, but your caresses are passionate. Jushiro just adores the way you bounce on his cock and the view of your breasts he has truly makes it hard for him to last for too long.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically).

Jushiro does not particularly like the idea of spilling his cum in any place that is not your womb. He comes from a chaotic, large family and his ultimate wish is to build one of his own. Can you really blame him for wanting to finish inside you, when you call out his name so sweetly, tenderly, and your body practically seems to coax him to come inside of you?

Keep in mind, though, that Jushiro does not take anything for granted. From the day you first gave him your permission to fill you up, he knew it was a privilege you were reserving only to him. Of course, he also knew you were not going to revoke it. Still, even today, he always makes sure you give him your full consent before he proceedes in coming into you. He is the incarnation of a gentleman.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jushiro rarely indulges into masturbation. When he does, though, it means you are not around. Sometimes, you need to leave the Soul Society for a few days for special missions and he is really not the type to oppose to the idea of you being independent. He can take care of himself.

All he asks for, when you visit him to announce your departure, is for you to take a few pictures of yourself and send it to him. He loves watching you wearing human clothes. Pastel colors are his favorite. They compliment your skin.

It is absolutely needless to say he pumps his shaft in front of the pictures you send him. Your blushing boyfriend comes in a matter of minutes, especially since you often tease him by wearing provocative lingerie instead of cute sundresses.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The Captain of the Thirteenth Division has basic kinks, well suited to a man of his age and position. Jushiro has a thing for breeding and praising.

His desire to impregnate you, to build a family is evident in bed but also in the way he casually hugs you from behind, hands resting over your belly, almost protectively, as he murmurs how beautiful you would look with a baby bump.

Praises, praises falling from your lips are such a turn on for him. If he is eating you out on his futon and you tell him he is bringing you to Cloud Nine, he might begin to grind his crotch over the mattress, whimpering in pride for making you feel so good.

Do not think he is not going to compliment you, to praise you. Jushiro is kind of talkative in bed. Expect to end up showered in praises, to hear sweet nothing, to be cradled in his arms as he comes into you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! I did not mention that I was going to post this request too, because I wanted to post it as a ‘gift’. Sincerely, I hope you are going to enjoy this small work! Much love, warm hugs and your favorite hot drink to sip in front of a fireplace!

– Luce

[imadhatt3r]

There's a sort of small personal story arc happening in Koujaku's route that I haven't seen talked about much, and it is one relating to Aoba's struggles with his masculinity and his perception as a man by others.

This story arc heavily deals with cultural gender norms and expectations, and so I will be working with them; This doesn't reflect my personal view on gender roles and expectations in real life. This is also not for or against any headcanons regarding any character's gender- I have no opinions on them or problems with people seeing any character as trans.

Okay, without further ado:

The moment where Koujaku and Aoba canonically meet for the first time happens during their childhood. Aoba was bullied by other children for his long hair and for "looking like a girl". Koujaku stepped in to protect him, thinking that Aoba's a girl, and was allegedly suprised when Aoba turned out to be a boy, but his attitude towards Aoba never changed.

This event clearly had a big influence on Aoba, on how he views himself, Koujaku, and how he thinks Koujaku views him. When we first meet Koujaku in-game, he is seen defending himself from a woman's overly protective boyfriend and being a charmer to her in turn when she apologizes for his behavior. It's established that Koujaku has a lot of female admirers, and a bit later it's revealed that he attracts a lot of men too, but moreso as a kind of role model/aspirational figure- that's why benishigure exists in the first place.

Aoba is shown to be annoyed or downright kinda scared of Koujaku's fans; Of course, it makes sense- Aoba is shown to be a private person that dislikes attention, but I believe that there is a second layer to all that- jealousy.

Aoba identifies as a man in-game and asserts it multiple times. He is aware of his gender. Koujaku is shown to be both flirty and chivalrous towards women around him- he spends time with them, initiates physical contact, compliments them etc. Aoba is always annoyed whenever he sees Koujaku doing that, but his reasons aren't fully clear- it seems like he feels like Koujaku's behavior is, in some way, fake, or that he just dislikes PDA in general. Aoba isn't jealous of the female attention Koujaku gets- he doesn't want to be in his place, because, as we established, he doesn't like being the center of attention. This isn't a dick measuring contest with Aoba being salty that he's coming up short.

Aoba is jealous of the women. He's the one who wants Koujaku to flirt with him, touch him, be chivalrous to him, protect him, but he believes that it will never happen, because Koujaku only acts this way towards women. Men want to be him, women want to be with him, but Aoba is neither; He's not a man who wants to be him, nor is he a woman who wants to be with him- there's not a place he can comfortably occupy, in his mind.

Mind you, I don't believe that he is aware of his feelings- hence his clusterfuck of an attempt to make Koujaku's flirting with women a bad thing. It's not coherent, it doesn't really make any internal sense, because Aoba has no idea he's even trying to lead himself away from something.

In the good ending, Koujaku briefly mentions that he thinks Aoba sleeps in so much because he wants to get his attention, and I can 100% see it as being true- Aoba doesn't know how to get Koujaku to treat him like he does women around him, so he chooses more covert ways to get that desired attention and care.

I also see Aoba's haircut to be symbolic/meaningful of his relation to his masculinity being percieved by others. Aoba's hair was the reason why he and Koujaku met as kids and established their friendship and later relationship. When they were cut, Aoba started to look more conventionally "masculine", and yet the haircut is also, in a way, representative of the beginning of his and Koujaku's relationship. It's because Koujaku doesn't care that Aoba is a man- hell, in the CD drama, he even admits that he's straight up attracted to Aoba's masculinity. If Koujaku liked Aoba BECAUSE he saw him as female-like, wouldn't he want to keep his hair long/feminine?

This is kinda explored in various extra material like the summer side story and valentine's day story- Aoba seems to believe that while Koujaku is with him out of love/attraction, he's being treated more as a novelty, a "girl-boy" that's going to be replaced by an "actual woman" one day. He's afraid that the chocolates he made for Koujaku for valentine's day will be seen as "gross", and he expects to see a mountain of chocolate given to Koujaku by women when he comes to his apartment. In the summer story, he expects Koujaku to deny their relationship when they're being harassed by drunk benishigure, and that he will be left behind when Koujaku is approached by female admirers. This never happens- Koujaku actually reassures Aoba that he's never going anywhere, and that Aoba has nothing to worry about. This is framed as Aoba being simply jealous, but I think that there is enough evidence to imply that his gender has a lot to do with it. We don’t know how would he react if Koujaku was approached by a man, but it's mentioned multiple times that it's seeing and thinking of Koujaku being surrounded by women gets Aoba down especially hard.

I feel like it's also important to look into the bad ending for Koujaku's route too, because if you look at it through that lense, you can see some interesting stuff. First and foremost, Shiroba is dressed in a sexualized version of the miko garb (miko are shinto shrine maidens, and they are exclusively women) that includes stockings, and his hair is just as long, if not longer, than Aoba's. He also has red tassels in his hair, right behind his ears, which sort of look like earrings. In short, it would almost appear like Shiroba is trying to look more "feminine" in order to appeal more to the way he percieved Koujaku's tastes- after all, Shiroba/Desire is all of Aoba's impulses, thoughts, and desires taken to the extreme. Aoba thought that Koujaku likes women and femininity, so Shiroba WILL make himself look as feminine as he can to make Koujaku like him more.

There's also the fact that, compared to their good end sex scene, Shiroba is much more... Placid. In the good end, Aoba speaks, he laughs, he laughs AT Koujaku, he tries to turn his head away but agrees to look at Koujaku in the end; He is an active participant who is willing to laugh at his partner (in a way) and make demands. In contrast, Shiroba mostly goes with what Koujaku wants to do; He participates to a degree, sure, but he allows Koujaku to bite him, lick his blood, and fuck him pretty violently without any sort of resistance. This might be a stretch, but it can be seen as Shiroba trying to play a more "feminine" role- which means being passive, allowing your (male) partner to do whatever he wants to do with you (even when it's painful or uncomfortable), and let him essentially use you as a receptacle of his emotions and bodily fluids.

This is a very narrow understand of conventional gender roles, but given that Shiroba is a being of extremes, it makes sense for him to see his own gender and dynamic with Koujaku as that simple and two-dimensional. This whole ending is all about misunderstood intentions/desires, so Shiroba is doing all he can to embody the most extreme conventional femininity in an attempt to appeal to Koujaku, while not having a clue that Koujaku was actually attracted to Aoba's masculinity.

The funniest part of it all is that Koujaku is actually a pretty feminine man himself; His very design blends masculine and feminine elements, which @asarigg points it out in her excellent essay on Koujaku, (among plenty other things), and the way he acts mixes masculinity and femininity too. However, Aoba either doesn't see it, or he treats Koujaku as a "special case"; It's probably the most clear in the scene in the CD drama where Aoba says that hairpins "usually" look bad on men (after Koujaku asked him if he'd like to wear one), but that Koujaku makes it work. The whole plotline/emotional core of this route centers on Aoba relying on his simplified image of Koujaku when it comes to how he thinks about him, only to be proven dead wrong and forced to confront how multi-layered of a person Koujaku is- to reject the image he made of him in his head as a child and make a new, more nuanced one as an adult.

When Aoba was a kid, he saw Koujaku as his hero, someone who protected him, watched over him; He was kind of his masculine ideal, someone he wanted to be when he'll be older. Now that they're adults, Aoba still sees Koujaku as someone hyper-masculine, whose feminine traits and behaviors are glossed over because Koujaku is "allowed to" be feminine a bit. The sad thing is that a lot of Koujaku's masculinity is kind of a ruse that was taken on as a defense mechanic, learned back when Koujaku was living in an abusive household, when he was a victim of abuse, saw abuse inflicted onto his mother, and was possibly forced to perform violence to some degree as means of "education" (things like learning to fight hand-to-hand or swordfighting).

Koujaku can fight because he tried to fight his abusive father and was trained to kill in the future, once he takes over the criminal empire. He flirts with women to fill the void he feels due to his rock bottom self-esteem and because he doesn't want to see women sad or mistreated after what he saw his mother go through. Koujaku's persona is carefully build and maintained, because all masculinity (or gender in general) is performed- this is what people around him expected him to be, that's what he was taught to be, and so he performs, even if it twists him up inside (we know he bottles up any negative emotions and doesn't share his struggles and trauma with anyone, which is also a part of toxic masculinity). It also seems like he's often out drinking with someone and he's a smoker- that's more of a theory, but people often find brief respite from their stress/unadressed emotions in substances, and while people of all genders do it, there seems to be a bigger social acceptance for men to indulge in order to "deal" with their problems and avoid showing "weakness" for just a bit longer.

The good thing is that Koujaku seems quite comfortable in his femininity. He loves his (stereotypically feminine) job, he remains kind and gentle to those who need it, he respects women around him and treats them well (even if that relationship is far from ideal of course), he's always considerate and caring towards Aoba, etc. It's interesting that despite liking and being attracted to Aoba's masculinity, he encourages him to branch out and seemingly embrace his own femininity more (he tells him he'd look nice in a hairpin, or that he'd love him no matter how he'd look like). I wonder if Koujaku found some kind of respite in his femininity back when he lived in his father's house and was potentially held to strict masculine gender roles enforced through violence.

It feels like one of these things that Aoba needs time to process and accept; In a couple years, he'll be doing deliveries with the most complex braid with flamboyant decorations and the most bitching eyeliner ever performed on Japanese soil.

[novantinuum]

Reformation ref sheet for an AU Steven (named "Astra") who's been invading my brain since like,, April. It's VERY wide, apologies. There's a lot going on here because this man is incredibly old and has poofed way too many times for varying reasons. (See This post for how I headcanon that Steven can poof and still be considered a hybrid being.)

While I will not talk in huge length about certain aspects of his AU on this blog due to some of it involving strong NSFW themes, there is a ridiculous amount of other lore I've developed over time for Astra, and I love him to death. He is my sad, lonely mans who I metaphorically hurl against the wall like a sticky hand when I need to feel something.

This version of Steven will likely never have any kind of full ass fic or comic made about him. Despite that, I do enjoy sharing some art and fun character lore for him from time to time. So, I might as well finally give followers like... literally ANY context for him. I've had this ref sheet for a while and just have never gotten around to throwing it on here, LOL.

Ridiculously long dump about my guy under the cut.

Subnote, this was supposed to be a quick post but I can't help myself and wrote you a fucking BOOK under the cut because I love my guy so much UWU

(Content warning I guess for like, extremely vague mentions of Steven/Steven later on.)

-

The huge tl;dr of Astra is as follows: he's a version of Steven who exists for SO long that he basically transforms into something of an ancient, lonely god.

He's outlived every single person he once knew as a child, and so as a result is starved for affection. At the same time, being vulnerable is the absolute scariest thing for him and he's really shit at navigating relationships, F.

The guy is THE most powerful living creature in his entire universe by the end, and yet remains a soft-spoken, (generally) benevolent soul. He dedicates himself to acting as caretaker for the vast, populous world he exists within, and to maintain the continuing legacy of Gemkind. A big discovery that occurs in this AU is that Gems are in fact susceptible to entropy over the span of millions of years and will eventually fall "inert," (but not him because of weird hybrid biology stuff he honestly sees as more of a curse than a blessing) so a huge plotline early on in Astra's lifespan is trying to either find a "cure" for this issue or to develop a means by which new generations of Gems can be created without the reinstatement of Kindergartens so Gemkind doesn't overtly go extinct.

-

But, to start... this Steven diverges off a point in canon- this is the timeline where he actually takes up the Diamonds on their offer of the throne in the movie, believing he may have a better chance of heralding true societal change working from the INSIDE rather than stepping away. Because he pours himself so thoroughly into his role on Homeworld and his mind is continuously occupied by this purpose, he never experiences the events SU: Future, nor does he develop his "pink mode" (yet...) or corrupt at all.

However, he's also so engrossed in his work that he's... kind of a shit boyfriend to Connie as years go on. (In that he's not terribly attentive... always super busy... their visits are often cut short, or few and far between.) Their relationship never really goes anywhere as a result, though Connie wants it to. To be fair so does Steven, but he's so scared that everything he's worked so hard to organize and set up in this new era will fall apart if he steps aside from his role for even a moment that he can't allow himself to follow that want.

At some point here he learns he can poof through a complete freak accident, and that's where things really begin to change in this timeline.

It takes a good few months for him to reform, but once he does he's back at it with all his work on Homeworld pretty quick.

The thing is... he doesn't have an innate physical need to eat or drink or sleep anymore, because he now consists of entirely hard light. It mimics human biology to an insane degree, so he COULD do all those things, but he doesn't need them to persist. So... he kinda takes this as an excuse to cut those activities out of his schedule entirely so he can spend more time focused on his duties as a diamond.

Connie is NOT a fan of this, and this leads to some debate and tension within their relationship. That being said, they remain an item...

Up until out of nowhere, Connie dies in an accident on Earth while Steven is off planet in a place where he doesn't have any contact with them for a few days. By the time the Gems are able to get in touch with him, it's far too late to resurrect her.

The kicker? In the autopsy it's discovered that she was a few weeks pregnant when she died.

Steven is emotionally gutted by this... and the thought of what could have been... and poofs.

The guy is understandably destroyed when he comes back in his next form, and his form reflects that- his gem flips as a sort of metaphorical severing from his own humanity.

He spends a long while in a deep depression at the loss of his childhood sweetheart... at the loss of any potential for (as far as he sees) a "normal" human life. There's a part of him that resents the choices he's made to end up in this present, but like, there's still work to be done.

And as the years move on, a LOT of that work is mitigating the growing relations (for better or for worse) between Gems and humans as humanity stretches their legs and reaches out into the stars. Humans kinda get... really aggressive in their expansion though, and quite territorial, and it leads towards some inevitable conflict between them and Gemkind. This time, with them more at fault. Things get so spicy that some groups of humans and Gems go to war.

Steven tries to mitigate one of these situations at the front lines- and gets poofed by a disgruntled Gem, speared straight through the back because she (kinda wrongly) assumed he would take the humans' side due to his ancestral ties to them.

When he reforms this time, he is glowing a perpetual pink. The Gems don't really know what to make of this, but he seems to be in perfectly fine health otherwise, so they assume it's just a normal aspect of this new neutral form.

And while this isn't something Steven has context to figure out until like... billions of years later, what's actually happened is that he's entered a permanent pink mode, pretty much. Guy's just got that much bottled up, unaddressed trauma.

He spends a long time in this form, and over all these thousands of years oversees the slow return to peace between Gems and humans... their marriage as a space age federation... and their deeper exploration of the galaxy. Beyond their home solar systems exist a bounty of alien species they've yet to meet... some friendly, some less so. There's definitely some conflict that crops up amidst the local galactic neighborhood when Gems and humans show up on the playing field here, lol.

But all-in-all, Steven develops a fairly peaceful and predictable routine during this reformation- living more like a Gem than ever before. He's still got the Crystal Gems at his side through all of this, and they are some of his greatest confidants.

And then... without any warning... Gems begin to go inert. Amethyst is among them.

Some of them simply stop reforming after they poof... especially those who were older Gems, or who have been cracked before. Steven and the other Diamonds using their powers together are able to "fix" this at first and "jumpstart" their reformation, but it's just a bandaid of a fix- these Gems will fall inert again pretty soon. And the longer they persist without poofing from alternate causes, the more unstable their form, power, and memory becomes. (Think of this as Gem dementia at its late stages,,, oof.)

The bottom line? Just like organics, Gems aren't immune to the forces of entropy. Sooner or later, their gemstones will decay from the inside out. Stubborn to find a way to save the ones he loves as he watches them slowly deteriorate all around him, Steven dedicates himself to trying to find a cure. But deep down, a part of him recognizes the futility of this. What he believes Gemkind actually needs to do is to develop a means of rebooting Gem incubation that doesn't destroy planets, so they can rebuild their quickly dwindling population and keep their legacy alive.

The big problem with this is that Gems take a SHIT load of energy and resources to properly incubate, so that puzzle will take a long ass time to sort out. There's kinda a lot of chaos that happens during this time. The reality of their own blunt mortality freaks out a bunch of Gems, and Steven has to do damage control with the heads of state for a lot of other alien species.

In the interim, all the Crystal Gems and some of the Diamonds (White is still in the picture, though) end up falling inert. Pearl is the last of the CGs to do so.

Steven is understandably SUPER gutted about this, and poofs yet again. (Lol notice a theme? Poor mans keeps poofing from friggin' anguish. Help him.)

After reforming with barely any changes, it's right back to work for this guy. He and the rest of his team of researchers are unable to find any cure for Gems decaying and falling inert, but they do end up making huge leaps and bounds in other kinds of tech. One of these advances allows Steven to finally deep-scan his own gemstone down to the atomic level to check for decay- this was previously a process that was very invasive, and came at the risk of irreparably damaging a Gem, but not anymore.

He expects to find evidence of the same micro decay that's been slowly eating away at the rest of Gemkind within his OWN diamond, but the thing is...

He just... ISN'T decaying at all? Even though the sheer age of this gemstone itself should suggest otherwise? As it turns out though, his existence as a hybridized being makes him kind of... an anomaly. When he first reformed all those thousands of years ago, all the data within his gem- data that would otherwise be susceptible to decay- was translated into genetic material. DNA that's woven entirely out of hard-light... but, DNA that has also been constantly regenerating itself thanks to a combination of all the intricate biochemistry surrounding the human telomere and his healing powers.

In other words, he is incapable of falling inert from natural causes, like micro decay. He's functionally immortal. Unless someone shatters him (or... heaven forbid... he shatters himself) he simply can't die.

Which, all of a sudden, makes his race to save Gemkind from their quickly approaching extinction all the more personal. Because if he FAILS- then he'll be the very last of Gemkind. There will be no one else left in this world who is even remotely like him. (Humanity has mixed and mingled with the galactic locals so much by now that they're very much unrecognizable from what they once were.)

His spirit is very nearly broken by this discovery, and he is severely tempted to throw all his own principles out the window and just sanction the construction of new Kindergartens again, if only to keep the dwindling Gem populations up and birth new generations. Perhaps surprisingly, it's White Diamond- the last Gem left who Steven actually knew since the very beginning- who urges him to reconsider. To not give up on his own morality, to not revert all the miraculous changes he's worked for these long few million years.

The big shift in the tides is when he discovers the means to jump to alternate timelines, and thus the existence of the greater multiverse. This allows him to gather intel and ideas from a far greater spectrum of sources.

And eventually... it's with the aid of many alt versions of himself from other lines across the multiverse that leads to him finding a suitable, eco-friendly solution to his Gem incubation problem. (This is the aspect of this AU I cannot discuss in length for discretion's sake. Use your imagination. Or don't, I don't care.)

The following two sections, I'll be talking more about the broad thematics than anything else. At this point, know that there are now new batches of Gems being created all the time. Gemkind is no longer at risk of any extinction, but now- like any stable organic species- new Gems are made at the same rate that they fall inert.

So, the BIGGEST thing here with this reformation is that this is overtly where this guy picks up the name "Astra." Why a name change? Well, after White finally went inert, leaving him the last Diamond in existence within this line, it basically just felt... upsetting to him, to continue to go by a name that every person he ever loved used for him. Thus, the new name is overtly a means to distance himself from that past, and from that pain. (It's also a name he chooses while thinking back to a meaningful conversation he had with White, back before she went inert, oOF. I'll probably yell about that at some point in another post.)

So, too, is the lack of any tangible facial features. He HAS a face, but others just can't see it. He subconsciously obscures it from almost everyone's sight as a means of avoiding vulnerability. One might also have noticed by now that this guy's proportions have gotten like, really strange and sorta "stretched out" over time the larger he becomes... and this is intentional, as it's yet another way he's just becoming more inhuman in form, yet another way he's internally separating himself from those humble human origins of his.

But here's the thing, though.

Deep, deep down, to be human and to live a simple human life is basically all he's ever craved. It's everything he feels he's lost forever, with the death of his Connie. And instead, he's kinda stuck in a hellish sunk cost fallacy of his own making, acting as eternal caretaker for this world that- no matter what he does to try and make it a better place- will never quite be PERFECT. Thus, in his mind, even though he's literally fixed Gemkind's BIGGEST problem, he can't Stop. He can't Rest. He simply can't allow himself himself to lay down and Sink Away into the unknown.

And even if he could allow himself to do so, he is so, so scared of walking that path alone.

If he's going to die... he wants that end to be at a lover's side.

How, though, is someone who's basically a god supposed to find anyone in this multiverse with experiences they can remotely relate to?

Well... ultimately, Astra finds that it's far, far easier to build up a close relationship with varying versions of himself than anyone else. He's... kinda trash at it, though. This guy has so much bottled up Gunk in his head and is so starved for any form of affection that he has a habit of throwing WAY too much of himself into the relationships he engages in, and expecting that same level of commitment in return. There's one relationship with an alt Steven he's in for a while that ends up pretty unhealthily co-dependent before it fizzles out, and then another where he assumes the individual is committing to this partnership for the long run, but then no... actually Astra was always pouring more into this dynamic than he was receiving in return.

This second relationship, when it ends, is pretty devastating to him- since it was one that lasted for like, a LONG ass time. Unimaginably long. We're talking billions of years, here.

Uh-oh! And now he's even more distanced from other people. Folks can't even parse his actual chosen name at this point- except he isn't really consciously aware of this for a while?? It's yet another silent cry for help, yet another internal defense mechanism specially intended to keep others from truly getting to know him. Because every time he does... stars. No matter what he does, he keeps getting hurt. Almost everyone he knows and loves is torn from his life eventually... if not by death, then by some form of tragedy... and he's just so, so tired.

He wants literally ANYTHING to change in his life. He craves some new form of purpose. He craves the attention of someone who might love him as passionately as he loves them.

For a while, he almost believes he's found that- in yet another close relationship he forges with an alt version of himself- but while this other Steven does care for him immensely, it's only as a friend. Which kinda kills Astra, because he's like, lost in the sauce levels of In Love with this guy. There's a LOOOOOOT of story I have here with this, oh my god. If I am thinking about this AU I am usually thinking about this Old Man Yaoi. The great bulk of it is very NSFW themed though, so y'all getting the cliff notes.

The MOST important thing to know though, is that Astra both makes intense leaps and strides in once again allowing himself to be vulnerable with this man, and ALSO kinda intensely fucks their whole mutually agreed situationship up. It's messy. I am crying and wailing at these two old dumbasses. Jesus fucking christ.

But then, it's in the aftermath of this whole deal that an individual named Orion comes into the picture.

Orion quite literally falls into Astra's world by complete accident, but it's a very lucky accident- because she is a diamond hybrid version of Connie from another universe who- beyond a few differences- has a strikingly similar history to his. The big difference, though? She never found a means to create new Gems without Kindergartens, so she was the last of just a few thousand Gems who existed in her entire line. Part of a deeply endangered species.

This version of Connie arrives in some very deep mental turmoil, and so Astra does his best to give them a stable home and a place to heal. And while a past version of him might've been tempted to throw way too much of himself into the slow building rapport they have, he's blessedly Learned a thing or two from the past few major relationship experiences he's had... and chooses to like, ease up. Just offer himself as a friend first and foremost, should they care for one. Man learns restraint, lol.

And it's a damn GOOD thing that he does, because out of the genuine friendship they foster, Orion is the one who ultimately falls in love with him first. The relationship that's established here is one that's balanced, a true partnership where they simply make each other better people. It's through Orion's encouragement that Astra eventually reconnects and makes up with that last person he had an intense relationship with, even.

In time, Astra truly grows to thrive with Orion in his life. He becomes a far more open, vulnerable person, someone who feels safe to truly exist as who he is, to bare every complicated, battered facet of his past to those he trusts. While he may have taken the LONG road to get here, he too heals. And as a result...

One day, Astra simply stops glowing entirely. Shrinks down to more reasonable proportions. He stops hovering around on automatic, stops subconsciously scrubbing the memory of his face or name from people's minds. He stops denying his truest, deepest self- the reality that he was born an organic being, and raised as a human.

The burred reality that all he's ever truly wanted since the day his first lover died is to be a father.

To live a quiet, simple life with the people he loves.

For so long it was a mirage of a future he thought he'd never chase down, but for how much he made all the wrong choices the first time around, now he has a second chance.

And so in my brain, that's exactly what happens. Astra and Orion start a family together and continue to act as guardians over this universe for many years to come, until- after they are satisfied with the long life they've lived together, and their children have moved on to start forging their own paths- they eventually pass Beyond at their own will in each other's arms, ending their impossibly long godhood at peace.

I really don't know how to end this post lmafo, so I will simply say: if you somehow read all of this, holy shit you are so brave. Thank you for engaging with my insane ramblings. Have a nice day LOL FUIHSNUFSJG

This man haunts my brain so much I missed two off ramp turns on the highway the other day while thinking about him. Help me.

[alphaofdarkness]

Merry Christmas / Feliz Navidad / Happy Holidays / Life Day to everyone! 🎄🎅❄️☃️

Especially to @bart1607! 🥳🎄 I am your secret santa for the @sabezrasecretsanta event 🎄✨ I truly hope you’ve had an amazing Christmas Eve and Christmas Day! I hope you enjoy this gift 🫂💜🥰✨

I did my best 👉🏼👈🏼 this is officially canon y’all, no one dies-everyone lives is canon 😌🙌🏼 just silly fun Life Day/Christmas au with all the favorites coming over for celebration ☃️ I truly wonder what the beans plan to surprise the others with 😳✨

I had a lot of fun and anxiety over this piece lol trying to get it done before heading home (°ヮ°), pero bueno, esta bien, salió perfecto a mi (after like a day away from it lol) so I hope you like ✨👉🏼👈🏼

Have an amazing one everyone! So in love with all the sabezra works and secret santa gifts! 🥰✨

Bubbleless image and many zoom in's under read more ~

Some close up of the beans with their precious fur babies 🐱🐺 and some zoom ins of the speech bubbles with Kanera, Jacen, and Chopper, Kalluzeb, Ahsoka, Rex, and Huyang, and Ursa, Alrich, and Tristan Wren ✨

I have this four couples idea I plan to do in the future for the Rebels cast, so this is kind of a step in that direction. I’m technically missing one silly ship of the four in mind lol. But some chibi versions are fine for now 😌

I am truly in love with the Kanera + Jacen and Chopper one, as well as Kalluzeb 🥹💜and a first time drawing a chibi!Rex and Clan Wren family~ I need to draw Ursa properly at some point too~

Again, I hope you love and enjoy @bart1607! Have a wonderful Christmas and a Happy New Year to you and everyone 🥰 ! Bless everyone of y'all for being an amazing community and here’s to more Sabezra draws and content in the new year 🙌🏼🥹🙏🏼

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

I have a question about Catradora, what do you think of the argument that they were in a war and were enemies?

i think i've talked about this before but i don't mind saying it again. the whole “they were enemies” argument doesn't work for three reasons:

1. there was a huge power dynamic between catra and adora.

in any other case, enemies are usually neck and neck. even if one of the characters is weaker than the other, there is still the same level of animosity towards each other. sometimes the writer balances it out by making one character smarter and the other one stronger.

but not c//a. oh no no, catra has to be the one who is stronger and smarter. and like i said, the funny thing in spop is that adora is canonically stronger than catra and literally everyone else but for some reason, she keeps getting her ass kicked by catra. it makes no sense. even if she was holding herself back and trying not to hurt catra, she should still be able to defend herself. there was no need to make her so weak.

2. their relationship was toxic even when they were on the same side.

catra constantly expected adora to put her needs above her own, she was jealous of adora's achievements, she literally slaps and gaslights adora in the portal sequence where they were supposed to be still friends.

3. their relationship was too personal.

usually the "they were enemies" argument works only if,

a. the two individuals don't know each other and therefore think that the other side is evil (like glimmer and adora), or

b. they were forcefully turned against each other despite not wanting to hurt each other.

neither of this is the case with c//a. especially catra. it would make sense if catra was forced to fight adora, and she had no choice in the matter. but no, all of her decisions were her own and she absolutely enjoyed torturing the fuck out of adora.

not to mention, catra usually only targeted adora. she rarely ever targeted bow or glimmer or any of the princesses, and if she did, it was to get back at adora. this was because catra was taking out her personal grudge on adora, rather than fighting an enemy.

so yeah, that's why this argument doesn't work. this is not what the enemies to lovers trope embodies, and fans who say "you just don't understand the trope" hasn't seen a real enemies to lovers ship.

[writerfromshikahr]

So I put this random thought up on my BSky about my canon Rook, Aloisia and Lucanis:

Bellara is writing a fanfic about Lucanis & Aloisia, but she changes their names to Lucaro & Alonia and they are part of the elite group of assassins known as "The Gulls" run by a suave leader named Vigo.

Aloisia is like: "The Gulls? Really? What is "assassiny" about seagulls Bellara?"

One of my followers then said this:

Of course now I’d love to see a scene where she and Lucanis are attacked by seagulls and when they get back to the Lighthouse, she tells Bellara, “Never mind, calling them Gulls works.” - Thank you @ ‪Ser T, Guarding the Veil‬.

🐦‍⬛ CONTACT ACCEPTED 🐦‍⬛

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

Two Crows & 20 Something Seagulls - Lucanis X Rook

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The warm Rivaini sun bathed the coastal town as Aloisia and Lucanis strolled along the cobbled streets, their contract complete and their spirits unusually light. After securing a quick lunch from a local bakery—Aloisia with her favourite crusty sandwich and Lucanis indulging in a sweet roll—they decided to take their meal to the small beach area below, settling on the edge of the sea wall.

“This is nice,” Aloisia said, taking a bite of her sandwich and savouring the crisp air mingled with the salty sea breeze. “Quiet.”

Lucanis hummed in agreement, pulling a bit of his sweet roll apart and popping it into his mouth. “You don’t get moments like this in Treviso. Too many people. Too many…”

“Gulls?” Aloisia cut in, nodding toward the growing flock of birds circling above them.

Lucanis glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing as a particularly bold seagull landed a few feet away, staring at his sweet roll with unsettling intensity.

“Relax,” he said, tearing another piece of bread. “It’s one bird.”

The words had barely left his mouth when another gull landed. Then another. And another. Within seconds, they were surrounded.

“Okay, maybe not just one bird,” Aloisia muttered, clutching her sandwich a little closer.

Lucanis scowled, shifting slightly to shield his sweet roll from view. “They won’t do anything. They’re birds.”

At that precise moment, a gull swooped down, its wings flapping wildly as it made a bold grab for Aloisia’s sandwich.

“Hey!” she shouted, jerking back.

Lucanis swatted at the bird, narrowly missing its tail feathers. In the commotion, his sweet roll slipped from his fingers and fell to the sand below.

“Meirda!” he hissed, diving for it, but it was too late. Twenty more gulls appeared as if summoned by an unseen signal, their beady eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

“Lucanis, what’s happening?!” Aloisia shrieked, holding her sandwich high above her head.

“It’s a coordinated attack!” Lucanis shouted, brandishing his cloak like a weapon as gulls dive-bombed from all directions. One particularly aggressive bird latched onto the edge of his sleeve, flapping wildly.

Aloisia yelped as another gull landed on her shoulder, pecking at her sandwich. She spun around, accidentally hitting Lucanis with her free hand.

“Do something! They're swooping at me. Swooping is very bad!"

“I’m trying!” Lucanis growled, grabbing a gull by the neck and holding it aloft while kicking at another that had latched onto his boot. His Antivan grace was nowhere to be seen as he stumbled, swatting and cursing.

Aloisia ducked under his cloak in a desperate attempt to shield herself. “I have half a sandwich left, Lucanis! Half!”

“And I have nothing!” he barked, glaring at the gulls as if sheer intimidation would make them retreat.

Around them, people on the beach had stopped to watch the spectacle, some laughing or calling to their children to look at the “entertaining couple.”

“They’re mocking us,” Aloisia hissed from beneath the cloak.

Lucanis’s response was lost as another gull dive-bombed, narrowly missing his head. His patience snapped. “That’s it!” He brandished his rapier, the polished steel glinting in the sunlight, scattering gulls as he charged forward.

The birds retreated, flapping into the air, but they didn’t go far, circling just out of reach and squawking triumphantly.

Breathless and dishevelled, Aloisia climbed out from under the cloak, clutching the remains of her sandwich. “We lost, didn’t we?”

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

Aloisia looked at him, feathers in his hair and sand on his boots, and started laughing. “The Gulls,” she gasped between giggles. “Bellara is going to love this.”

Lucanis sighed, “I’m never eating outside again.”

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

Lucanis and Aloisia trudged into the kitchen at the Lighthouse, bedraggled and thoroughly unimpressed with life. Aloisia’s hair was an unruly mess, streaked with sand, and Lucanis’s cloak had a new, suspicious stain near the shoulder. Both reeked faintly of salt and indignity.

Bellara, lounging with a book on the common room couch, perked up as they walked in. “Back so soon? What happened?”

Lucanis scowled, tossing his cloak over the back of a chair. “Seagulls,” he growled, his Antivan accent thick with disgust.

Aloisia pulled a feather from her hair, holding it up like evidence in a trial. “A flock of them,” she clarified, glaring at Lucanis as though it were somehow his fault. “We were ambushed. Ambushed, Bellara. One even stole my sandwich!”

Bellara, failing to suppress a grin, set her book aside. “Ah, yes, the majestic gull. Nature’s stealthiest assassin.”

Aloisia narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start.”

But Bellara, ever the dramatist, ignored her. “Swooping in with precision, snatching prizes right from under your noses, striking fear into the hearts of—”

“I punched one,” Lucanis interrupted flatly. “It was self-defense.”

Bellara dissolved into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Lucanis Dellamorte, First Talon of the Crows, the Demon of Vyrantium...bested by seagulls.”

Aloisia crossed her arms. “No, he was fine. They didn’t go after him. Just me. Like they had a personal vendetta or something.”

Bellara smirked, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Maybe they knew you mocked my work. The Gulls are lethal, Aloisia. I’ve been saying this all along.”

Aloisia groaned, “You win, okay? Call them whatever you want. Gulls. Winged harbingers of doom. Seafaring assassins. They’re terrifying. Happy?”

Bellara leaned back, grinning ear to ear, and reached for her notebook.

“Lucaro and Alonia versus the flock,” she murmured to herself. “This will make an excellent chapter.”

[loolilyumm]

I am screaming. Sobbing. Girlboss and fail-wife is my favorite dynamic. The way you draw is so pretty and your colors are so good plus people who draw 3 with sanitization scars are literally so cool I mean look at acht, there’s canonical examples of it. But literally going aaaa rn because I love your ocs.

We got Reese and Margot, how about 4 and 8?

OMG AHH IM SO SOSOSO HAPPY YOU LIKE THEM..AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKS I LOVE ANSWERING THEM!! 🫶🫶🫶

I want to yap about my agents in separate posts so this one will be all about 8!

THIS IS OLIVE! She became agent 8 in the deepsea metro and has been a super active agent in the NSS ever since! They are like family to her - she lived with Pearl and Marina for almost 3 years before moving in with Reese! (Captain/Agent 3)

She was 14 during splatoon 1, and 16 during the events of octo expansion. Now in splat 3 she is 19!

She mains the dark tetra dualies but can use any weapon. She's super fast and agile so she likes weapons that work well with her speed.

She was an elite solider in the octoling army - she had just become one before she was ambushed by Cuttlefish and agent 3 (Reese) and they all fell into the metro.

None of them ended up falling in the same area of the metro, and Olive ended up being found by Tartar’s sanitized octolings and taken to the sanitation chambers to have her memory erased.

Side tangent - I have a specific idea in mind about how octolings are sanitized. If you want to watch this video, it explains it really well - https://youtu.be/zu4czvg5ClI?si=wFz1lABgkv7hz8Wk

But TLDR, there are 2 stages of sanitization. Stage one includes being wiped of all memories. The subject then has to go through a series of tests and trials before Tartar decides what to do with them based on how well they did. Then they get either blended or brainwashed into oblivion! 😆😆 woohoo yay! J think based on the side order diaries it kind of confirmed that 8 went through that first process…it just never said how so I made that part up. Lol

ANYWAY..!!! At the same time Olive is taken, Reese wakes up and begins searching for captain Cuttlefish. He doesn’t find him, but you know what he does find??!!?!?

WHOAAA WOWWW HE FINDS OLIVE

He’s like holy cow..! That’s the girl that was just attacking me…😦 and he’s like ahhh! I gotta help her!

But by the time the two of them make it out, he realizes that it’s too late. Her memory was completely wiped. The sanitization doesn’t leave any physical effects on her except for her eyes - they turned turquoise. The same color as the sanitized ink.

The two of them needed to find a way to find cuttlefish and get out of this creepy place, so they kept moving. Pretty soon they made their way into a train station and found cuttlefish waiting for them there!! And there was also a weird telephone that told Olive she was the newest test subject - and that passing all these trials was the key to getting her memories back and getting to the “promised land.”

Reese just went along with it because he assumed that was what octolings called the surface. He wanted to be a test subject too so he could help Olive, but the phone rejected him. No inklings allowed!

She was forced to go through hundreds of rigorous tests. She wanted more than anything to get back her memories and reach paradise. As she regained more memories, she realizes how different her old life was from the kindness these inklings were showing her now (and the two people on the radio called Pearl and Marina!). It just propels her toward finishing the tests, pushing herself to her limit, doing it not just for herself but for all of them.

She forms a really deep bond with these inklings. Cuttlefish is like a grandfather to her. Reese makes her heart flutter in ways she doesn’t even understand.

As the tests go on, she regains muscle memories from her days as an elite solider. She’s good at fighting. Really good. But these tests are really hard. 8 knows she can do it, but they’re really, really hard. And all these bad memories aren’t helping.

Through blood, sweat, and tears, Olive finally collects the 4 thangs and they can finally go to the surface! She is so proud of herself and feels on top of the world. Cuttlefish and Olive take the thangs to the telephone and wait for Reese, who’s out exploring the metro (one of the things he does to take up time and secure their safety). But the telephone is telling them they gotta go NOW and they can’t wait for Reese!

Cuttlefish and Olive say nope, nope, not happening. So they are forced into the blender and AHH!! OH NO VERY BAD!! EVERYONE FLIPS OUT AND…!!!

Reese appears and THROWS HIMSELF at the blender. Surprisingly, it works. The three of them leave the telephone and super jump through the hole Reese made in the ceiling. They’re going to get to the surface themselves.

Somewhere around the 4th phase, they are ambushed by a group of sanitized octolings. Olive gets separated from Reese and Cuttlefish. She is forced to keep moving and hope that they have made it to the elevator before her.

They have, but not in the way she thought! When she sees Reese’s partial sanitation, she doesn’t want to hurt him and holds back, resulting in herself getting injured very badly. She realizes this isn’t the friend she knows, and manages to defeat three and rescue him from brainwashing.

Soon after that she also saves the whole world and defeats Tartar. PERRIOODDD!! #slaythehousedown #girlboss

Reese and Olive got into a relationship soon after the events of octo expansion. They help each other through all the trauma of what happened down there and are the bestest friends and love each other so so much! Yay!!

And Olive got a new family that she loves so so much. YAYYY!!

AS OF SPLATOON 3…EBERYONE IS DOING AMAZING!! YAY!! Agent 4 is Olive’s new bestie. Margot (New agent 3) is like the little sister she never had. She and Reese have moved in together. She still does regular missions for the NSS and treats it as a full time job. She’s so proud of Reese for becoming captain. She couldn’t think of anyone more deserving.

I still haven’t decided what really goes down during the events of side order - I didn’t love that it was all a simulation, so idk how I’d write around that. I’ll figure it out! But for now, Let’s just say it’s not very fun for Olive.

BUTTTTT after the events of side order, she regains all of her lost memories (she left a few behind in Kamabo) and rediscovers herself.

HOLY CANNOLI I wrote a lot. I think about Olive so much and I hope you guys love her as much as I do.

If you guys have any questions about them whatsoever, please PLEASE feel free to send over an ask! I love answering them!!

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR…I love u. Mwah!

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 5

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21 @dylsw @ria-s-writes @sleepymothafterhours 

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Chapter 5: Where is the end?

Sukuna’s POV

I wanted to cry. It hit me in waves—this unbearable, gnawing ache that seemed to claw at every part of me, but I couldn’t. I felt numb, empty, like something inside me had shattered and I couldn’t put the pieces back together.

Who was I now? Who had I become?

I glance around the sterile hospital room, the white walls mocking me with their coldness, and everything suddenly feels even more suffocating. The beeping of the heart monitor in the corner, the soft hum of the lights, and the scent of antiseptic all feel like a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.

I swallow hard, trying to steady my breath, but it’s impossible. My chest is tight, constricted like I can’t breathe properly. I close my eyes for a moment, forcing my mind to focus, but the images come flooding back—Y/N, her face twisted in pain when I left, the way she told me to leave her apartment. The coldness in her voice shattered what little was left of my heart.

I had been pushing her away for so long. Pushing everything good in my life away.

She never deserved this.

I can feel the pressure in my chest grow like the weight of my mistakes is threatening to crush me all over again. I can’t even get a fucking grip on myself anymore. This wasn’t the life I wanted, and it sure as hell wasn’t the life she deserved.

My hands tremble as I sit up in the hospital bed. The sheets are tangled around me, and the effort to pull myself out of them feels like it might break me. But I need to move. I need to get out of here, out of this fucking room, out of this cage I’ve built for myself.

I get out of bed, unsteady on my feet, and the sensation of dizziness makes me stumble. The heart monitor starts to beep faster, and I ignore it. I don’t care about the alarms.

I just need to get to her.

I move to the door, but I pause for a moment, looking back at the sterile, lifeless room. The cold, sterile world I’ve surrounded myself with. It’s suffocating. The truth is, I don’t belong here. I don’t belong in this hospital bed. I belong with her.

But how the fuck do I fix this?

I don’t even know where to start.

I move slowly toward the door, but as I reach for the handle, my hand hesitates. My reflection in the window across the hall catches my eye.

Who is that person?

I don’t even recognize myself anymore. The guy who I used to be—the guy who could shrug everything off, who had his shit together—he’s gone. The reflection in the glass shows a man broken, desperate, someone who has lost his way. A man who has fucked up his relationship with the only person who ever made him feel alive.

What have I become?

I drag a hand through my hair, frustration building up again, but my body feels like it’s failing me. I want to scream, to let it all out, but instead, I just stand there, staring at the man in the glass.

I should’ve done better. I should’ve been better.

But now it feels like it’s too late. Maybe it’s too late for me to fix anything, too late for me to make it right.

But fuck, I can’t just give up. Not now. Not after everything.

I turn my gaze back to the door, my fists clenched at my sides. I can feel the weight of everything bearing down on me, but I can’t let it stop me. I don’t care if I’m not strong enough. I don’t care if I’m fucking broken.

I’ll find a way to fix it.

Even if I have to crawl my way back to her, I will.

I won’t give up on her.

The door bursts open and a few doctors and nurses rush in, all looking panicked. Their eyes dart around the room, and then they spot me, standing unsteady at the edge of the bed, trying to make my way to the door. One of the nurses immediately steps toward me, her voice gentle but firm.

"Mr. Ryomen, you need to get back to bed. It's not safe for you to be up right now."

I don't even put up a fight as they guide me back to the bed. I let them help me sit down, the weight of my body feeling heavy, like I’m sinking into the mattress. They start explaining something about observation for the next 24 hours. My mind is too clouded to pay attention to the details.

One of the doctors looks at me with a concerned expression. "We need to keep you under observation for now. You’ve been through quite a bit, and we must monitor your condition."

I nod, not really hearing them. My thoughts are still miles away. 

I need to see her... I need to fix things.

A moment of silence passes before I speak, my voice thick with frustration. "I can't afford this," I mutter, looking at the machines around me. The hospital bill, the treatments—it's all piling up in my mind. It feels overwhelming.

The nurse just smiles, as if she’s heard this before. "Don't worry about it. It's been taken care of."

I frown, confused. "Taken care of?"

"Yes," she says, nodding. "Satoru Gojo took care of it."

I blink, still in disbelief. Of course, Gojo would pay my bill. That guy never hesitated to throw money around like it was nothing. I let out a low, sarcastic chuckle.

"Gojo, huh? That bastard," I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. I can’t help but laugh again, the sound is bitter but relieving in its own way. Of course, he’d swoop in and fix this mess, like always. I don’t even know why I’m surprised anymore.

As the nurse steps away, giving me a moment to process, I lean back in the bed, letting out a deep sigh. My head is pounding, and my heart is still heavy with everything I’ve done. But as I lay there, I felt the sting of reality hit me again, a constant reminder of what I’ve lost. I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me.

But Gojo’s money... it's a small, pointless distraction from the bigger problem.

The bigger problem of not knowing how to live with the mess I’ve made.

The door creaks open, and I feel it before I see them—their presence filling the room like an uninvited storm. Gojo strolls in first, his usual cocky smirk plastered across his face. Behind him, Geto follows, his steps measured and serious, while Toji hangs back a bit, his eyes scanning the room with that usual disinterest.

They’re here to check on me, but all I can do is focus on the sterile white walls of the room, anything but them. I’m not ready for this, not ready to face the people I’ve let down.

Why am I even hiding myself from them? 

I think, my gaze drifting to the floor. Maybe it’s because I don’t have any answers. Maybe it’s because I’m ashamed.

I don’t want them to see me like this—broken, and vulnerable, but that’s exactly what I am.

Gojo’s footsteps approach, and before I can even think to react, he’s there, his hands gripping my shoulders in that casual, almost annoying way of his. He shakes me slightly, the weight of his touch pulling me back into reality.

"Hey, come on," Gojo’s voice rings out, louder than I expected. "What the hell are you doing, man? Hiding from us?"

I glance up briefly, meeting his eyes—his blue eyes that never seem to falter. He’s not surprised, not at all. He’s always had a way of looking at me like he’s seen everything already, like nothing I do can shock him. But right now, I don’t want to be seen.

I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, and he forces me to face him.

"You’re not getting out of this, Sukuna," Gojo says, his tone now serious, the usual sarcasm gone. "We’ve been trying to keep you together, but you’ve been shutting us out. Why the hell do you think we’re here?"

I feel the anger start to rise in me—

he has no idea what I’ve done

but I bite it down. 

What’s the point of fighting anymore? I can barely even hold myself together.

Toji moves around the side of the bed, his gaze cold and unwavering, while Geto just stands by, his silence speaking louder than words ever could.

"You're a mess," Toji says flatly. "But you already know that."

I stare down at my hands, trying to keep my breathing steady.

"Don’t try to make excuses for yourself," Geto finally speaks up, his voice calm, but his eyes are sharp. "You’ve got to face what you did. All of it. And you can’t do that if you keep running away from it."

I don’t know how to respond. I’ve always been the one in control, the one who called the shots. But right now, I feel completely out of my depth.

"I fucked up, okay?" I mutter, my voice raw. "I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix me."

Gojo squeezes my shoulders harder, his grip firm but somehow reassuring. "You’re not alone in this," he says, his voice softer than I’ve heard in a long time. "But you’ve got to stop running from it. You’ve got to stop hiding."

I look up at him, at all of them. They’ve been with me through the worst of it—through my rebellions, my anger, my bullshit—but this? This is different. And I don’t know how to ask for help.

But maybe... maybe I don’t have to.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," I whisper. "I’ve just... I don’t know what to do anymore."

Toji huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, but there's a flicker of something softer in his eyes. "It’s simple, Sukuna. You start by fixing what you broke."

I nod, slowly. I know that’s the first step. But for the first time in a long time, I’m not sure if I can.

And that thought hurts more than I can explain.

I could feel the shame burning in my throat as I finally let the words slip out.

"She told me she hates me," I say, the words barely a whisper.

There. I said it. I got it out.

But its weight doesn’t lift; it only sinks deeper.

I can feel all their eyes on me, silent, waiting.

"And then what did I do?" I continue, forcing myself to look up, to meet their gazes even though I want to look anywhere but at them. "I fucked her. Even after she told me she was done, I couldn’t... I couldn’t let go."

Toji’s face shifts, his usual smirk gone, replaced by something I can’t read. Gojo just stares, his expression hardening. Geto... Geto’s eyes look almost sad.

"So you made it worse," Toji mutters, crossing his arms. "And now she’s gone."

I nod, swallowing hard. "She’s gone," I say, the finality of it hitting me like a punch to the gut. "For real this time. She told me to come and get my stuff, and when I left, I—" I break off, the words catching in my throat.

Gojo sighs, his hand running through his hair. "You let your pride get in the way," he says, his tone blunt. "You always do."

I know he’s right. I let my damn pride and anger destroy the one thing that meant something to me. I try to breathe, but the pain is clawing up my chest, filling every corner of my mind.

"She... she was right to hate me," I admit, my voice cracking. "I did this. I pushed her away. I kept shutting her out, ignoring her calls, and her texts, and now... she’s done. She’s done."

There’s a heavy silence. They’re all just looking at me, and I know they’re judging me, hating me, maybe even feeling sorry for me.

But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Because I deserve this.

I drop my head into my hands, the weight of everything crushing me.

"And I can’t even blame her," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "I did this to myself."

I took a few deep breaths, trying to keep the panic from rising again. The ache in my chest was relentless, pressing down like a weight that wouldn’t let up. I closed my eyes, telling myself to calm down. Come on, get it together, I thought. Another panic attack isn’t gonna help.

I glanced at Gojo and the others, watching their silent stares and attempts at empathy I didn’t feel like I deserved. Part of me wanted to tell them to get out—to leave me to whatever mess I’d made of myself. But I didn’t. I just sat there, caught in the trap of my own mind, barely holding it together.

“Maybe I should just sleep,” I mumbled, more to myself than to anyone else. “Just… get back to where things make sense, where it’s not… like this.”

I lay back on the bed, closing my eyes again, hoping sleep would just take me. Because in sleep, things didn’t hurt so damn much. I could see her again, hear her laugh, feel her hand in mine like it used to be. There, in dreams, she wouldn’t be gone. She wouldn’t hate me. There, I wasn’t this… mess of a person. I wasn’t the guy who had thrown everything away.

The others were still there, I knew that, but I didn’t care. Let them talk, let them do whatever. I just wanted out—out of this room, this body, this damn life that didn’t feel like mine without her in it.

I didn’t know how long I lay there, drifting in and out, feeling myself numb. Maybe I’d finally fall asleep and dream it all away.

Gojo’s POV

I looked over at Sukuna, finally out cold, his breathing shallow but steady. The relief was temporary; I knew he’d be right back to spiraling when he woke up. Turning to Toji, I shook my head, feeling that familiar sense of frustration bubbling up.

“What are we gonna do with him, seriously?” I said quietly, rubbing a hand over my face. “He’s a hot mess.”

Toji glanced at Sukuna, then back at me, his usual unbothered expression faltering just a bit. “Kid’s been through hell and back,” he muttered, crossing his arms. “But that doesn’t mean he gets to destroy himself, and everyone else along the way.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to him when he’s sober,” I said. “We’ve all had rough patches, but this…? He’s doing himself no favors.”

Geto leaned against the wall, arms folded. “He’s been drowning for a while. Maybe none of us noticed how deep he was in until it got this bad.”

Toji sighed, a hand running through his hair as he looked back at Sukuna. “Doesn’t help that he pushes people away the second they try to get close. Especially Y/N. Poor girl didn’t stand a chance with him.”

I clenched my jaw. Y/N. She’d put up with so much, tried so hard, and he’d just kept pushing her away. But if there was anyone who could make him realize what he was throwing away, it was her—only, we might be well past that point now.

"Maybe she was his last chance at something good, and he knows it,” I said, glancing at Sukuna, now oblivious in his restless sleep. “But he couldn’t let go of whatever’s eating him from the inside.”

Silence stretched between us, the kind that makes you feel every wrong damn thing. None of us knew how to fix him; all we could do was be here to try to hold the pieces together. But even that felt like a losing battle.

Geto’s voice was soft but steady, cutting through the silence like a knife. “He’s got survivor’s guilt,” he said, looking at us. “He was supposed to be with Jin that night. He’s been blaming himself for the past eighteen months.”

I frowned, sinking deeper into thought. Jin had been the one on a real path—a student at Pratt, always doing what needed to be done to keep things steady. Jin had plans, a future laid out. He’d had the kind of life Sukuna never thought he could touch.

“To him, Jin had it all figured out,” Geto continued, his voice tight. “Meanwhile, Sukuna’s always been... well, reckless, a total mess—parties, hookups, whatever he could do to forget himself. And now he thinks it should’ve been him instead.”

Toji shook his head slowly. “Survivor’s guilt doesn’t just go away, though. It’s got him in a chokehold, and he can’t see past it. He won’t let himself. All the drinking, the fights, pushing Y/N away—it’s like he’s set on wrecking himself because he thinks it’s all he deserves.”

“Eighteen months,” I echoed, swallowing down the weight of it. “He’s just been carrying that, all by himself?”

“Carrying it, dragging it, burying himself under it,” Geto said, voice low. “The fact that he even kept his grades up back then... it was like the one thing he had to prove he could do right. But now that’s gone too.”

Toji exhaled, leaning against the wall. “He never did let us in on any of that, did he? Couldn’t even tell Y/N. She’s been taking his shit, thinking he’s just distant or cold when the guy’s practically buried under guilt.”

I felt something tighten in my chest—anger, sadness, maybe both. Why didn’t he just tell us?

“So now what?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended. “We’re here, trying to hold him together, but he’s got no intention of letting us.”

Geto gave me a sad smile, his eyes dark. “The only thing we can do now is try to help him realize that even if he can’t forgive himself, maybe—just maybe—there are people around who can.”

Sukuna’s face twitched, and he murmured, half lost in sleep, “Jin… I’m sorry.” His breathing slowed again, and he drifted back to sleep, his face tight with something even unconsciousness couldn’t soften.

Toji shook his head slowly, his expression pained. “Poor bastard’s been apologizing to a ghost,” he muttered.

Geto looked away, jaw clenched, like hearing Sukuna admit even that much was almost too much to bear. I felt a sting of something raw as I watched him, realizing just how deep the cracks went for Sukuna.

“He’s got that wall up so high, he doesn’t even realize he’s been trapped behind it himself,” Geto finally said, keeping his voice low. “And he’s been living there alone for so long, he thinks that’s the only way to survive.”

A bitter thought crossed my mind. "And in the process, he’s been tearing apart anyone who tried to climb over that wall and help him, including Y/N.”

Toji sighed. “If he keeps going like this, he’ll lose everyone. And the worst part is, it won’t shock him—he’ll think he deserves it.”

I felt a dark resolve settle over me. “Then we’re gonna have to show him that he doesn’t have to go through this alone anymore. He may not believe it, but he’s got people who care. And no matter how much he pushes, we’re not going anywhere.”

Geto nodded, a shadow of determination in his gaze. “Right. It’s time we remind him he doesn’t get to decide when we’re done with him.”

Toji cracked a small, dark grin. "Sukuna’s been good at one thing his whole life: building a wall so damn high even he can’t see over it. But I say we knock that shit down, piece by piece. And if he tries to put it back up, we knock it down again.”

Geto smirked faintly. "We’re persistent bastards—he should know that by now.” But as he spoke, his gaze softened. “He needs us now more than ever. I think a part of him is terrified of even letting us in, but…” He paused, glancing at Sukuna, who was still mumbling in his sleep, fists clenched even in rest.

I watched him for a moment. “It’s almost like he doesn’t believe he deserves anything good,” I said quietly. “Like no matter how hard he tries, he’ll always be chasing ghosts.”

Toji leaned back, crossing his arms. “Well, maybe it’s time someone else starts chasing him. He’s been running for too long.”

Just then, Sukuna stirred, his brow furrowing, another murmur escaping his lips—something half-formed, an apology or a plea, tangled up in sleep. It was painful to watch him like this, broken down, raw in ways he’d never let us see if he were awake. I felt something tighten in my chest, the weight of all he’d been carrying alone for so long.

“Whatever it takes, we’ll be here when he wakes up,” I said, determination settling over me. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Toji let out a deep breath, his usual cocky attitude softened as he glanced back at Sukuna’s sleeping form. “This kid’s been dragging the weight of his own guilt and grief for too damn long. Ever since Jin...well, it’s like he’s got it in his head that he was supposed to be the one gone that night.” He shook his head, almost as if trying to shake off the absurdity of it. “Sometimes, when I look at him, it’s like he’s already halfway given up on himself.”

Geto nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sukuna’s never been one to talk about what’s going on up here.” He tapped his temple. “But ever since Jin’s accident, he’s just been… self-destructive. Like he thinks he doesn’t deserve to be here, doesn’t deserve any of this,” he added, motioning to the hospital room, “and definitely doesn’t deserve Y/N.”

I sighed, slumping into one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs, watching Sukuna twitch and mumble in his sleep. He murmured Jin’s name again, the sound almost like a child calling out in the dark.

“Do you think he’s ever going to let go of this?” I asked, more to myself than anyone else.

Toji’s gaze darkened, and his eyes narrowed in determination. “Not on his own. And not if he keeps trying to deal with it by pushing away everyone who gives a damn about him. He’s gotta wake up to the fact that he doesn’t have to carry all of this alone.” He leaned forward, his fists resting on his knees, the lines on his face tense and serious. “We all go through hell sometimes. It’s part of the package. That doesn’t mean we have to go through it solo.”

Geto gave a short, bitter laugh. “Sukuna’s not exactly the ‘share your feelings’ type.” He paused, and his voice softened. “But I don’t think he knows any other way. Hell, maybe he doesn’t even want to. But if he doesn’t learn how to start opening up, he’s just going to keep spiraling.”

As I looked at Sukuna, the stubborn, self-destructive side of him flashed in my mind—a side we’d all watched worsen over the past year. We’d seen him drink, fight, and smoke his way through the nights, using everything he could to keep his demons at bay. But all it had done was sink him deeper.

“Letting go of Jin,” I murmured, “doesn’t mean forgetting him. That doesn’t mean he has to lose that connection. But carrying this much weight…” I trailed off, watching as Sukuna’s face contorted in his sleep, pain, and guilt written across his expression. “It’s just eating him alive.”

Toji huffed, standing up and pacing the room. “And who else would he listen to? Y/N tried, and look what it cost her. I doubt he’s going to listen to anyone easily. Not even us.”

Geto looked at me, his eyes heavy. “So what do we do, Gojo? Just sit back and watch him fall apart?” His tone was frustrated, bordering on hopeless, a rare look for him. But in this situation, who could blame him? None of us knew how to pull him out of this spiral, but standing by and doing nothing wasn’t an option, either.

“No,” I said finally, with a slow nod. “We don’t back off, even if he tries to push us away again. I’m serious. We stay here, we check on him, and we make sure he knows—every single day—that he’s not alone. That he’s still got people in his corner, whether he likes it or not.”

Toji gave a small nod, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. “Guess we’re just stubborn bastards, then. He’s not going to shake us that easy.”

Sukuna stirred again, his face etched in that same tortured expression, murmuring once more. His words were slurred and barely coherent, but we could all make out the quiet, hoarse words, “…Jin… I’m sorry…”

Geto took a deep breath, running a hand over his face, his voice low. “It’s hard to watch him like this. But if he’s going to make it, if he’s ever going to find his way out… he’s going to need us.”

I nodded, a newfound resolve settling over me. “We’re not just going to be his friends when things are easy,” I said firmly. “We’re going to be here through the ugly, the painful, the worst of it.”

And there, in that hospital room filled with the steady hum of machines and dim, sterile lighting, I felt the weight of our friendship shift, solidify. We were here for the long haul, whether Sukuna could see it yet or not.

[m1dnitefloat]

hi!!! i just want to say i love your club penguin ocs so much!!! they have such fun designs <33 i was wondering if you have any lore for them??? or if they interact with the other club penguin characters :3

ohoho you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to ramble about my ocs .. ok i only really have stuff for two of them but yknow ..

(warning for probably horrible writing, this is the first time I’m really putting this stuff into words, and I’m not all that great at writing characters in the first place, so bear with me)

i’ll start off with skye since they’re the one i have the most info on lol

skye is one of my oldest ocs! i created them all the way back in 2012, they were originally an epf agent based on one of the penguins used in some of the promotional material for operation blackout. i’ve written out the epf stuff out of their character since then, though they’ve retained most of their basic traits.

skye is one of the island’s local freelance artists, as well as a member of the stage society and the party committee. they often help with designing and creating sets, props, and decorations for events throughout the island! skye is known for their creativity among their peers, however they’re horrendously shy and dislike being in the spotlight, preferring to work “behind the scenes.”

as for character relationships .. I’d imagine they’d be pretty good friends with dot! canonically, dot has been shown to have a love for theatre, and I like to think she’s had a hand (or flipper?) in designing costumes for various stage plays, so I’d imagine she and skye would bond over that kind of stuff.

skye also eventually becomes good friends with rookie! he first approached them for help with planning the 2014 fair (thanks to a recommendation from dot lol), and skye, somewhat reluctantly, agreed to help out with the design and construction of the amazement park. I’d imagine rookie plays a key role in skye’s character development, helping them come out of their shell somewhat (they have a kinda ‘extrovert adopts an introvert’ thing going on). here’s some bonus funny doodles of them:

some misc facts about skye I’ve had in my head:

- they don’t own any puffles or pets, but they do act as somewhat of a caretaker for the keeper of the stage, making the effort to check up on and put food out for it everyday.

- a bit too dedicated to their craft for their own good, they’ve pulled one too many all-nighters just to work on one of their various projects.

- their favorite artistic medium is painting, though they love to experiment and have dabbled into pretty much every medium at some point (with varying degrees of success).

then there’s my kind-of-penguinsona, agent pinky! or sometimes just ‘pink.’ kind of a weird name I know, i derived it from my og username on club penguin, pinkyrose059, since that’s what I based pinky off of.

pinky is a laid-back, but somewhat jaded, tactical agent for the epf. they have kind of a ‘been there, done that’ attitude, leading them to not really take their agent role all that seriously (i can imagine them quarreling with their boss, jpg, sometimes cause of this) …. that’s all I kinda got for them rn, i haven’t really had much in mind for them compared to skye lol.

[therookandthecrow]

Lucanis loves my tall, lanky elven Rook. He'd honestly not have him any other way. At least in my canon, since Lucanis had never been in a relationship before and didn't develop preferences prior to meeting him, I am going to presume that Lucanis technically doesn't have a preference so far as what Rook looks like expressly because he goes for personality primarily?

That said, I headcanon that my Rook, Lethanavir (aka Aloisius) was used to people pursuing him for his looks alone, and normally he wouldn't have minded this, because it's not like he doesn't know that he's unusually attractive, but he was genuinely taken aback that Lucanis was into his personality as well.

I'm planning to explore the Lucanis.exe has stopped working dynamic when I get around to committing to writing my fic. Lucanis has such an inward battle about the immediacy of his attraction to my Rook and how he feels inwardly about getting in over his head over him, as it had been a while since he had another crush (Viago)

My Rook, being my Rook, honestly felt lust at first sight when seeing Lucanis, hence him smirking, because he was trying to control his facial expressions - he was genuinely surprised that the Demon of Vyrantium was so hot. Due to him having the observation skills above those of a pine cone, he was able to piece together that Lucanis is asexual.

There is no way that it won't make my Rook think that he's coming on too hard to him, so I don't blame him for playing the field a bit because he didn't want to scare him off by his bold approach. It doesn't help that my Rook feels flustered around Lucanis, and that his flirtations come off as ultra awkward and that he discovers that he is in fact not as good at flirting as he thought he was.

It's a relief to my Rook that Lucanis isn't great at flirting either, apart from that one scene where Lucanis had clearly rehearsed some flirting techniques from one of his romance novels? Not only that, but it makes it a lot easier for my Rook to take the pressure off of himself by presenting his honest self to Lucanis.

What just is Lethanavir's honest self? Honestly, he's an autistic elven Watcher who had been raised in a fairly sheltered life in a Nevarran wealthy, noble family and raised around spirits and other people who deal with dead people stuff for most of his life who has read too many smut novels for his own good.

It turns out to be a major relief that Lucanis is also autistic (because I headcanon him as so). I also love the idea of two distractingly attractive people being awkward about love, with one being the experienced one and the other being the virgin. Things become a lot easier once they both accept that neither of them have flirting game, that said.

[ghouljams]

Hey so, I’m the anon that sent the initial ask with the Sire and Dam terms and I’m just confused and looking for clarification

I’m aware they aren’t dogs. But the term itself isn’t uncommon in the a/b/o community at times; in any case, most terms in the community compares them to dogs or other animalistic sayings. (ie. Calling babies ‘pups’, using the concept of ‘heat cycles’, using the term ‘packs’, rutting, mating, to say a few)

And even you, in the omegaverse headcannons ask said “I think I've called alphas "herding dogs" before and that's such a great way to think about them lol”. You’ve compared them to dogs too, in a way.

I don’t intend to come off as rude, I’m just seriously a bit lost on what you mean considering everything. /lh /genq

The terms sire/dam make me incredibly uncomfortable because in my mind they break so.ething complex like gender into strictly biological parts. I also would call this a recent addition to the omegaverse Canon because I had never heard the terms used until you sent your ask.

Perhaps I don't view mother/father as gendered terms, in my mind it's just the "role" that one fulfills. Not even in terms of mother=birth giver, father=sperm donor, more in terms of labor, emotional education, perhaps a form of distance from the child. Idk

I would say me using "herding dog" as a metaphor is different from using dog breeding terms to refer to human people. Is any birth giver who hasn't been mated referred to as a bitch too?

I have made a concerted effort NOT to use dog/animal terms outside of heat/rut only because those are the accepted terms for the fertility cycle that exists within omegaverse. I don't call them packs, I don't really talk about mates, I don't call children pups, but I'm sorry I used a metaphor to describe an abstract concept that happened to also be dog related.

This is not a reflection on you but it is a little frustrating for me to create what I consider to be an "untraditional" omegaverse au where: betas have an actual endotype, omegas are not weak simpering submissives, alphas aren't sex crazed rapists, and where sortie dynamics are actually interesting and have social implications, and people still will come into my ask box and ask like really aggressively traditional omegaverse questions.

"What if a beta!reader wanted-" then they could do that.

"What if the reader went into heat and alpha!x-" they'd be fine, alphas aren't hormone monsters.

"Can alphas be parents?" Yes because they're people and alpha =/= absent father.

I am sorry, I was more confused than frustrated by your original question I just am a little tired of doing all of this world building and people just seem to ignore that. Like I'm really proud of the work I've put into my au! I wish people would read it before sending me really really "traditional" omegaverse questions. This will never happen though.