#hes logically logiced himself to logically ignore it

[mintyys-blog]

Hi minty , could u please do headcanons for main mark and variants of what they would do and feel if they believe reader is cheating. (She is not)

HEADCANON | variants with s/o who they believe is cheating

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: mention of cheating, false accusations, attempted murder, swearing

MAIN MARK

Mark wasn’t sure when the thought first entered his head. Maybe it was the late-night texts he couldn’t see the names of, or how you started coming home a little later than usual. Logically, he knew you had work. Logically, he trusted you. But logic had nothing on the gut-sick panic that settled in his chest.

He didn’t confront you right away. No, he tried to ignore it at first. Laughed it off. Told himself he was being insecure. But then came the slip—the way you smiled at your phone one night, whispered something to yourself, and didn’t notice him watching. That smile. It wasn’t for him.

That night, he sat on the edge of the bed, unable to sleep. You were brushing your teeth, humming under your breath, looking completely normal. Like everything was fine.

And that hurt the most.

So he asked, barely a whisper: “Are you seeing someone else?”

You blinked, stunned, toothbrush in hand. “What?”

His voice cracked. “Just tell me the truth.”

When you laughed—not cruelly, just shocked—he looked like you slapped him.

“Mark, what the hell are you talking about? Of course not!”

You explained everything. Showed him the texts—your friend planning a surprise for him. The extra hours at work? Covering for a coworker. You even opened your phone, unlocked, without hesitation.

Mark sank to the floor, hands in his hair. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

You knelt with him, gently guiding his face up to yours. “You’re not. But next time? Ask me. I love you, dumbass.”

He wrapped his arms around you like he thought he might lose you again. “I’m so sorry.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “I forgive you. But you’re making me waffles in the morning.”

“Deal.”

MOHAWK MARK

He didn’t say anything at first. That wasn’t his style.

Mohawk Mark watched from a distance—arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes dark. You’d been acting different lately. Late replies. Brushing off his questions with a smile. And worst of all? You’d started hiding your phone.

He didn’t do subtle. So the storm had been brewing—louder in his head every day, pushing him closer to the edge until the night he finally snapped.

You were humming in the kitchen, minding your own business, scrolling your phone. And that was it.

He yanked the phone from your hands in a blink, slamming it on the counter. “Who the fuck is he?”

You stared at him, stunned. “Mark—what?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’ve been hiding shit. Acting weird. So unless you want me to start tearing this house apart, you better start talking.”

You shoved his chest, furious. “Are you insane?! I’m not cheating on you!”

He sneered. “Then what the fuck’s going on?”

You grabbed your phone back, unlocking it with shaky fingers. “Go ahead. Check it. You’ll find nothing—unless you want to ruin your own birthday surprise.”

His expression faltered.

You shoved the screen in his face. Texts between you and his best friend, planning a surprise party. Restaurant reservations. Gift orders.

Mark stared for a long moment before backing off, running a hand through his hair, swearing under his breath. “Fuck… I—I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t,” you snapped. “Because you didn’t trust me enough to ask before losing your shit.”

The guilt hit him fast. The silence that followed was heavier than any argument.

He muttered, almost too low to hear, “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “You will, if you keep treating me like an enemy instead of your partner.”

He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “…I fucked up.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, softening slightly. “But you can make it up to me.”

“Dinner, back rub, whatever you want.” You leaned back into his chest, still annoyed but touched by the sudden softness. “Start with ‘I’m sorry,’ and we’ll work from there.”

SINISTER MARK

Mark wasn’t loud. He didn’t throw tantrums or pace the room when he was pissed.

He watched. He waited.

So when he saw you getting out of a car with some random guy—his arm casually slung around your shoulders, the way you were laughing, all soft and familiar—his vision darkened.

He didn’t follow you home right away. No. He followed him.

It wasn’t until the guy was alone in the parking lot of a corner store, head down in his phone, that Mark made his move. One hand around the guy’s throat, slammed against a brick wall.

“Didn’t think I’d notice you pawing all over her?” Mark hissed, squeezing tighter. “You have about ten seconds to explain who the fuck you are before I start making an example.”

“W-what?! Dude—I’m her brother!” the guy gasped, choking out the words.

“Bullshit.”

“No! No, I swear—! C-check her contacts—ask her! My name’s Eli! Look at my f—fucking face, man!” Mark’s breath hitched. And suddenly, he did look at the guy’s face. Closely.

Familiar nose. Same eyes as you. He hadn’t noticed before—his rage had blinded him. You showed up minutes later, breathless and panicked, having tracked your brother’s phone when he stopped answering.

And what you found? Mark, fangs bared, fists clenched around your brother’s collar—just short of crushing his windpipe. “Mark!” you screamed, shoving between them. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

His jaw was clenched so hard you swore you heard a crack. His eyes flicked from your brother to you—back and forth, trying to put it all together.

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother,” he growled. “You never asked,” you hissed. “Because you were too busy acting like a psychotic asshole instead of trusting me!”

Your brother was coughing behind you, pale and freaked out. Mark ran both hands down his face and backed off, still trembling from the adrenaline. He didn’t say sorry. Not immediately.

But he did stare at you like he was trying to piece his heart back together. “I thought I lost you,” he muttered hoarsely. “And I don’t lose things I love.”

You didn’t answer. You were still too angry, too shaken. But you reached out and took his hand. “Next time,” you said coldly, “ask before you kill someone I actually care about.” His lips twitched, almost a smirk. “Fair.” He still didn’t apologize out loud. But he didn’t need to. The way he didn’t let go of your hand said enough.

OMNI MARK

Mark wasn’t like other versions of him. He didn’t shout, didn’t fly off the handle, didn’t indulge in petty emotions like jealousy.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

So when he spotted you at a quiet outdoor café—sitting too close to a man he didn’t recognize, your hand brushing his across the table—he didn’t make a scene. He didn’t even let his expression change.

He just… watched.

And when you laughed—genuine, unguarded—something in his chest pulled tight like wire straining to snap.

He returned to the Citadel early that day. Didn’t leave a message. Didn’t wait for you to come home. He simply stared out into the black stretch of space, arms folded behind his back, thinking.

You didn’t get home until late.

“Mark?” you called out as you stepped inside. “You’re home early—”

“Who was he?”

Your heart stuttered at the ice in his tone.

You turned, frowning, confused. “Who—?”

“The man.” He faced you fully now. No mask. No crown. Just a man whose brown eyes burned cold. “The one you met for lunch. You touched his hand. You laughed like you used to laugh with me.” His voice didn’t raise, but each word was carved sharp enough to bleed.

You stared at him for a moment before blinking. Then you laughed—soft, almost disbelieving.

“That?” you said. “That was my cousin. He flew in from out of town. I haven’t seen him in two years.”

His jaw flexed.

“I would’ve told you,” you added, your voice going smaller, “but you’ve been so… busy. You don’t exactly make time for small talk anymore.”

Silence stretched between you. You watched him process, piece by piece, his composure folding in at the edges.

“…Your cousin,” he repeated quietly.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m not cheating on you.”

He nodded once. Curt. Dismissive. But then he sat down—heavily, like the weight of what he nearly believed crushed something in him.

“I didn’t think I’d care,” he said after a long pause, his voice lower now. “I didn’t think it would matter if you left.” You swallowed, stepping toward him. “But it would?” you asked.

He looked up at you. For the first time in days, something warm and fragile broke through the surface of his gaze. “��Yes,” he said. And you knew that was as close to an apology as Mark would ever get.

VILTRUMITE MARK

Mark wasn’t one to hover. He’d never say it aloud, but he trusted you. Still, you were his wife—and the mother of his child. So when he couldn’t find you around the house that morning, a flicker of curiosity stirred. He didn’t panic—he never panicked—but the quiet absence of your voice made the silence feel too wide.

He flew a lazy loop above the property, scanning.

Then he saw you—kneeling in the backyard garden, your hands deep in the soil. Beside you was your daughter, a little smaller than she should’ve been for her strength, with your same sharp eyes and stubborn jaw. Her hair was tied messily like yours, dirt streaked across her cheek as she furrowed her brow in concentration.

“No,” you said gently, guiding her hands. “You press the roots in, not yank them out. Like this.”

“But it’s hard,” your daughter pouted.

You chuckled, brushing the dirt off your palms. “Yeah, well, life’s hard. Plants still grow. Try again.”

Mark hovered in the air, watching silently. He didn’t interrupt.

Instead, he landed quietly on the roof’s edge, arms folded, just… watching.

His expression, often hard and unreadable, softened around the edges. The quiet pride he felt burned low and deep in his chest—not the battlefield kind of pride, not the Viltrumite brand. This was quieter. He wasn’t proud because you were strong.

He was proud because you were kind.

And you were passing that kindness down to his daughter. A family. His. Mark smiled—just a little—and waited for you to notice him.

PRISONER MARK

Mark’s arms were always tense at night, like even in his sleep he was fighting phantoms. But tonight, his grip around your waist stiffened in a different way. His breath, hot against your shoulder, suddenly drew in—and didn’t release.

He shifted, nose brushing against your neck. His brow furrowed.

That wasn’t your scent.

You stirred at the sudden tension, blinking yourself awake to see his face shadowed in the dim light of your shared room. His eyes were half-lidded, but alert—suspicious.

“Why the fuck,” he rasped lowly, voice still gravelly from sleep, “do you smell like a man?”

You blinked at him, slow and confused. “What?”

He pulled back just slightly, not letting go but giving himself room to breathe. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know cologne when I smell it. Expensive shit too. That isn’t yours. That’s not mine.”

You frowned, then squinted like you were trying to remember.

“Oh—shit, no, Mark. I went out with Jules earlier—”

“The guy?” he snapped, sharp but quiet.

You held up your hands. “No, listen. We were at the mall. I was looking at cologne for you. I wanted to surprise you. He sprayed me with one of the testers to mess with me—he thought it’d be funny.”

His jaw flexed, like he was still grinding down suspicion. His eyes flicked over you, from your sleepy expression to the slow blink of realization on your face. No nervousness. No lies. You weren’t clever enough to lie to him in your half-awake state.

“…You were buying me cologne?” he said finally, voice quieter.

“I was going to,” you mumbled, “until I got soaked in that crap.”

Mark stared at you for another long second, then pressed his face into the crook of your neck again. His arms wrapped tighter, like he needed to crush the insecurity down with the force of his grip.

“You reek,” he muttered. “And if he ever sprays you again, I’ll break his fucking fingers.”

You smiled into the darkness, even as your heart still beat a little fast. “Noted.”

“Good,” he grunted, his body finally relaxing again behind you. “Still smells like shit.” But he didn’t let go.

TAG LIST: @onlybatsyy

[kagaintheskywithdiamonds]

Ok but here's an idea

What if Ford miscalculates in the exact opposite direction, and the potion actually takes much longer to wear off than he planned for.

Ford digs down through six feet of dirt. He's half expecting the coffin to immediately fly open as soon as it's able (Ford would probably do the same if he was in Stan's situation) but that doesn't happen. Ford knocks on the coffin, feeling a bit ridiculous as he does so, and tells Stan that he's here. There's no response.

Becoming a bit worried, Ford pries open the coffin, himself—and is horrified to see Stan still lying motionless in the same funeral-perfect pose in which he was buried.

No, that's not right. The potion should've worn off by now. Ford double and triple-checked his calculations. Stan should be awake by now.

"Stanley?!"

Unless he... fell back asleep? Like not seemingly dead asleep, just normal sleep? Ford can't imagine falling asleep in such stressful circumstances, but it's his best theory. Or at least, the only theory he's willing to consider. "Stanley, wake up," he says firmly, snapping his fingers in Stan's face. There's rain pouring down on both of them now. Ford could maybe imagine Stan taking a nap to wait things out inside the coffin, but surely the rain (along with Ford's words) would be enough to wake him up?

"Get up, this isn't funny." he snaps angrily, insisting to himself that this must be a poor-taste prank. Stan is purposefully ignoring him, even holding his breath so Ford won't see the rising and falling of his chest. That must be it. The only other explanation would be... no, Stan's just faking it. "This is ridiculous. It's pouring rain, for Moses' sake. Don't make me drag you out of here." Ford continues, ignoring the trembling in his own voice as he piles forced anger over his fear.

But Stan still isn't moving. And he shouldn't be able to hold his breath for this long. "I'm serious. Get up, right now." Fear is obvious in his voice now as he begins to tremble. He wants to grab Stanley by the shoulders and shake him, but he's terrified that making contact with Stan's cold, stiff body will only confirm his worst fear. The terrible worst-case-scenario fear that he's tried to ignore in the back of his head since the moment Stan drank the potion. But he can't ignore it any longer.

"Stanley!!" he cries as the facade drops and he reaches frantically for Stan's neck. His skin is cold to the touch, but surely that's just because of the rain. And Ford's going to find a pulse because Stan must still be alive because—

There's no pulse. And still no breathing. Stan is a corpse.

No, no no no no no that can't be right. "Stanley, please, wake up. It's time to wake up. You need to wake up. Come back, please, come back!" he pleads, shaking Stan's limp body as tears begin to mix with the raindrops on his face. Ford prays to every god he doesn't believe in that Stan's eyes will open any second now. Any second now. Because if not, that means...

I've killed him. Oh God, I've killed him. He's dead. I fed him poison and now he's dead. He's dead for good and he's not coming back. He trusted me and I killed him. I killed him and he's dead now, forever. He's dead because of me. He's dead and he'll never wake up. He's dead but he CAN'T be dead he has to wake up please Stanley please oh God this can't be happening no no no please wake up please—

"STANLEY!!!"

Wrapped up in his grief, Ford barely registers the sound of a dog barking in the distance. Somehow, the logical side of his brain is able to cut through the noise and pick up on the significance of this. Ford is being loud. He's on the brink of causing a scene. People will hear him and then they'll see him at the bottom of this hole, clutching his brother's dead NOT DEAD body, and that won't be good at all. Being caught graverobbing was never part of the plan. But then, neither was Stan still being dead at this point.

Ford looks up out of the hole he's dug and realizes he's going to have to pull himself and his brother out of it. He can't stay here all night. He needs to get out of here and bring the body with him—the body that is definitely going to wake up any second now. The dirt has turned to mud, which is going to make climbing out of the hole very difficult, especially with Ford carrying the weight of another full-grown adult man.

Ford is surprised when, after his long struggle to climb back up onto the grass, Stan still hasn't woken up. Ford was certain he would've woken up in the time it took him to get both of their mud-covered bodies up out of that wretched hole. No matter, he's going to wake up soon then. Any second now. Ford picks Stan up in his arms and begins the trek back to their house, certain that at any moment he'll feel Stan start to struggle against him as the potion finally wears off. Ford glances down at Stan approximately every 2 seconds over the course of the journey home, waiting to see the moment when Stan finally starts breathing again. It'll happen, Ford tells himself, any second now.

Ford gets back to the cabin and struggles to unlock the door while still holding his not-particularly-skinny brother. Now would be a really convenient time for you to wake up, he thinks as he pushes the door open with his foot. He brings Stan inside and lays him gently on the couch. They're both filthy; Ford should probably look for a rag or something so they can start to wipe the mud off of themselves, but he doesn't want to leave Stan's side, not when he's definitely about to wake up. Because that's due to happen now. Past due, really. Well past due. Which means it's definitely going to happen any second now. Any second now. Any second now. Any second now. Any...

Ford collapses to his knees. He realizes, distantly, that he's been crying. He's not sure when he started. The sobs get heavier as he begins to hyperventilate, muttering desperate apologies in between gasps. "I'm so- I'm so sorry, God I'm sorry Stan, I- it wasn't, this shouldn't have—oh God no, no, please no..." Ford grabs Stan's hand and holds it close with both of his own, clutching so tightly he doesn't feel it begin to twitch in his grasp.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please, please come back, Stan, please, I didn't, I can't..." Still kneeling next to his brother, he buries his face in the edge of the couch as the tears continue to flow. He cries so hard he doesn't hear the sounds of another person breathing next to him. With his head down, he doesn't see the moment when two brown eyes groggily open to look at him.

"Ford?"

What if Stanley had to get buried alive to fake his death? Like Juliet where she takes that thing that fakes her death for a bit?

What if he was afraid of dark tight spaces after being stuck in a trunk but had to wake up in a coffin by himself, with no one to dig him out except himself?

How cool would that be?

Now a scenario where Ford is aware this is happening or happened :3 and he's horrified. Maybe Stan has some PTSD or panic attack in a small dark space and it's revealed yipee

[ghostly-bat]

Jondami inspired by the song "Ribs" by Lorde.

Jon and Damian have drifted apart because Jon is just having a hard time managing everything. Damian doesn't know he's burnt out half the time, though; nobody does. He thinks school is going well, and he thinks his relationship is going well, even if he has been canceling dates last minute for a while now. He can't break up with Jay; how could he when Jay has been so patient with him and his flaky behavior, not being able to make time for him like he usually does? Jon wants this relationship to work out because, logically, it should. Jay is patient with him; he has powers of his own, so Jon doesn't have to worry about him being in danger. It makes sense that it should work out. But he's been checked out of the relationship for a while now, and he's been ignoring all the signs telling him that he should end it, but he just can't because to him it doesn't feel right.

Superman? He's doing the best he can; at least he thinks he is. He doesn't allow himself to spiral about it, though, because when he does, he ends up having panic attacks.

It's been what, like almost 2 or 3 years since he's pretty much ghosted Damian? Not that he intentionally wanted to; it's just that with everything else going on in his life, it just kind of happened.

He decides it's been long enough and reaches out to Damian again. Damian himself is a bit skeptical because he noticed when Jon started pulling away; he noticed when he and Jon started drifting apart. And as much as he is happy with Jon coming back into his life, he still has this anxiety in the pit of his stomach of, "Okay, how long is this going to last before he decides to drift away again?"

Jon's not the same Jon Damian knew. The moment Jon went to space, he took Damian's best friend with him. When he came back, that best friend was gone.

Both are yearning for the nostalgia and the childhood they once had.

Jon didn't mourn the childhood he lost like he was supposed to, and he wants nothing more than to have it back—along with Damian.

[theresatzu]

Blue Lock characters and being your study buddy

Starring. Isagi Yoichi, Bachira Meguru, Reo Mikage, Nagi Seishirou, Itoshi Rin & Chigiri Hyuoma

Tags. crack

Isagi Yoichi

✎ He cannot focus. Like at all.

✎ He's the type who would constantly be distracted by every single thing. He cannot for the live of him concentrate on that boring piece of chopped wood they call a math book.

✎ Bounches his leg. Shifts every five minutes in his chair. Sighs. What does being quiet mean?

✎ He is surprisingly good at discovering patterns and finding logic in equations or questions when he actually locks in.

"Are you done yet?" Isagi's left leg bounced up and down.

"Not yet." You responded, not looking up from your notebook.

Isagi slumped back in his chair. "I want to play football."

You sighed. "You haven't even started."

"I know... but I just..."

You raised an eyebrow, "...Am too distracted?"

Isagi flushed. "No..."

You stared blankly at him.

"You've been staring at the window for over ten minutes now."

Isagi let out a loud sigh as he listlessly kicked the table leg.

"Look," You pushed Isagi's math book back to him.

Isagi's face fell.

Ignoring his dismayful look, you reasoned, "If you want to play more football, you have to get a good grade for math, or you'll be kicked off the team. Do you want that?"

Isagi's eyes widened. "Kicked off?! No one told me that!"

You raised an imperious eyebrow. "Better get going then."

"What the hell. Since when were you a math genius?" You exclaimed, looking over the equations Isagi had dutifully written down.

"Oh... I'm not?" Isagi bashfully scratched his neck. "I just saw some patterns, that's all."

You looked between Isagi's notebook and the man himself in disbelief.

"Dude. You can literally be like... a top student if you wanted to."

Isagi shrugged. "I think I'd prefer to be a top footballer."

Well, what could you say to that?

Bachira Meguru

✎ Similar to Isagi, he cannot focus. Likes to doodle all over his notes, with his tongue poking out between his lips in deep concentration.

✎ He's also restless. But worse. Will randomly like... jump from his chair, or make paper planes and throw them at passerbyers (Rin).

✎ When he's bored, he'll come to bother you, poking your cheek, nudging your side. Bachira is not a responsible study buddy.

"What are you doing."

You eyed Bachira's hunched figure, which was shielding something he had been working on for the past few minutes.

And by the looks of Bachira's mischievous grin, he was not up to any good.

"What?" Bachira asked innocuously.

You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm doing homework!" Bachira defended. "Look, I can say the days of the week in English! Monday, Tuu-tuesday... uh... weddo--weddosday?"

You made a face.

"It's Wednesday. And what are you planning?" You corrected, moving closer to take a better look, but Bachira hurriedly covered it with his arms.

"Show it to me." You demanded sternly.

"No." Bachira stuck out his tongue.

You moved your fingers, beckoning. "Come on. I don't have all day."

Bachira petulantly crossed his arms, "I'll show it to you when it's ready."

You clacked your tongue in annoyance. "Are you even ready with homework? Bet you haven't even started."

You swiped Bachira's chemistry notebook from underneath his nose.

Your eyes bulged.

"What the fuck did you draw?! Is that... is that me?!"

"Oh that?" Bachira laughed as he pointed at a very deformed figure. "That's you, when you try to catch the rain with your tongue."

"What."

"And look!" Bachira excitedly tapped onto another doodle he'd drawn. "That's Isagi, when he really gets into a game."

"You made his face three times bigger than his body."

Bachira snapped his fingers. "Exactly!"

"..."

"I need to sit down." Shaking your head, you leaned back in your stool.

You opened your bag and took a long swig of your water bottle.

"Oh wait! Is that a peppermint? Can I have one?" Bachira piped up, pointing at the peppermint role sticking out of your bag.

You removed the bottle from your lips. "Oh, Sure."

You handed him one.

You didn't see Bachira's twinkling eyes.

"Thanks!" Bachira walked off, as you sat down, determined to get the remainders of your homework wrapped up.

However, the peace didn't last long.

"Aha! That's what I was missing! Come on, Y/n, look!" Bachira pulled your arm, causing you to drag your pen all over your notes.

"Bachira!" You hissed.

"Come, come!" Bachira dragged you away, and pointed at...

"What have you done?!"

You shrieked, eyes widening, horrified, as you stared at the bulging coca cola bottle that was dangerously on the verge of bursting.

"Amazing, right?" Bachira cheekily grinned. "I call it the Bachira Special!"

"No. No, no. There is nothing special about this!" You hissed. "Don't you know what happens when you put mint in coca cola?"

"Uh... no? I didn't make my homework." Bachira shrugged.

You shot a dismayed look at Bachira's forgotten chemistry book.

You turned back to him, "You should've! Because it--"

The coca cola blew up, shooting up from the table and sprouting juice everywhere.

A loud kabam reverberated as it smashed against the ceiling. Then it fell down, straight onto--

"What the actual fuck."

You froze.

Itoshi Rin.

There he was, in all his mighty glory. And with coca cola dripping from his hair.

His eyes locked onto yours and Bachira's.

"We're dead, aren't we?" You whispered.

"Only if he catches us!" And without further ado, Bachira sprinted away.

"You traitor!" You yelled out, still rooted to your spot, but as you saw Rin lunge, your legs desperately pumped to get away from the murderous glint in his eyes.

As you catched up to Bachira, you panted. "You... you're terrible."

"Am I?" Bachira smiled.

"No." You heaved. "You're awful, loud, and--"

"A chemistry genius!"

"You're dead!" Rin yelled.

Reo Mikage

✎ Certified genius. Literally passes all his subjects with flying colours.

✎ Helps others, is actually a good tutor.

✎ Though, if he's bored, he'll whip out things like intricate diagrams that predict the flow of the economy, or reports of board meetings. No one really understands it. Except for Reo Mikage, of course.

"You've... already finished everything?" Your jaw fell to the ground.

"Oh, this? Yeah, not a big deal." Reo dismissively waved his hand.

"Not a big deal?!" You echoed, positively flummoxed. "You've done the homework for... the next two periods for all the subjects already?!"

"Oh." Reo made a disappointed noise. "Thought I'd already finished everything for the whole year. Guess I'll do the rest tomorrow."

"You're unbelievable." You shook your head.

"Well, if that's all, do you want to see some really exciting stuff?" Reo asked, enthused.

"Uh..." You eyed your half-made work. "...sure?"

Rookie mistake.

Half an hour later, you were pretty sure your brain was fried.

"Wait... wait, so... hold up, you're saying that the sudden...addition? Of a new company could cause... fluctu--fluctuations in the economy's growth to just... disappear?"

"Yeah! When we're talking about a monopoloy, then a new business could..." Reo droned on.

Your face fell.

Everything whirred, the world spun, and Reo was still talking. Still talking, and...

"You actually understand this?" You inquired incredulously.

"Huh? Yeah, of course. These are just the basics." Reo shrugged.

Shrugged as if this was child's play for him.

Shrugged as if this was just a walk in the park for him.

Shrugged as if he didn't see the ominous glint in your eyes.

Reo went on. "Interesting, right? Right? Wait, Y/n, where are you going? Wait... why are you walking to the window? No, don't open it--DON'T STICK YOUR LEG OUT--"

Nagi Seishirou

✎ Does... nothing. Except sleeping and lazing around.

✎ Despite his unprolific attitude towards his studies, he actually manages to perform exceptionally.

✎ He'll be that guy that'll do nothing, but then solves the most groundbreaking, world-devastating problem ever.

"He's just... sleeping. Why is he even here?" One of your study buddies asked.

"At least he doesn't snore." Another grumbled.

You sighed. "He wanted to come. Wait. Scratch that. His exact words were: "It's too much of a hassle to walk back home.""

"Well, sounds like him." Another shrugged. "Hey, can someone help me with his sum? I don't understand it. I was pretty sure I had applied the right rule to it, but it doesn't seem to bring me any further."

Someone winced. "Ah... geometry. Literally the bane of my existence."

You took a glance at the question and blanched. Yeah, this was just a reach too far.

When no one seemed to be able to help, the person threw their hands. "Ugh! I'm going to get a one at this rate! This shit's too difficult!"

"I feel you buddy, I feel you." Another commiserated.

"Why do they even give this to us poor kids?! What's wrong with them?"

"What's all the fuzz about?" A sleepy voice drawled, causing the exclaims to take on another note.

"Wow. So he's not a statue?"

"I thought he wasn't breathing."

"Nagi, we were just discussing math." You elaborated.

"Oh." Nagi blinked. "Can we go home?"

You made a face. "Sorry, but we need to get this sum solved, or we'll be in trouble later."

"Oh." Nagi shuffled. "That sum?" He pointed at the one you'd been on the verge of pulling your hair out for.

Nagi squinted his eyes for a moment.

Then, "Just apply statement of Thales, then use the uniformity used in right triangles before you calculate the acreage of the highlighted field." Nagi blurted out.

A silence fell.

"Holy crap... he's right!"

"What the hell... he's been sleeping all this time and he actually managed to solve it... is he an actual monster?!"

"Can you just make all my homework for the year? No the next few years?"

Turning an ignorant ear to the other's words, Nagi tugged on your sleeve. "That was such a hassle. Do you have to do that all the time?"

You chuckled, teasing, "Not everyone can effortlessly pick that up from the get go."

"Oh." Nagi's mouth moved. "Well, I solved it. Can we go home?"

You shook your head. "Fine." You inclined your head, "Get on."

Nagi draped himself over your back, his face nuzzling your neck. "I don't understand why everyone makes such a deal about that. Ugh, my head hurts from all that thinking."

You raised an eyebrow. "You've slept for two hours straight."

"That's exhausting, too." Nagi defended. "But this is nice." His body went slack as he relaxed against you.

Nagi yawned. "Maybe you should just carry me in my dreams, too."

Itoshi Rin

✎ Only does his best when he wants to. He's the sort of person that'll only excell if he actually puts his mind to it.

✎ Doesn't even do the homework, except for English, because that's the only subject he finds important for his professional football career.

✎ When he's done with English, you might be able to guess it, but yes, he'll do only football related things afterwards.

"Hey Rin, do you know the answer to the third question of math?"

"Huh?" Rin looked up from his studybook. Without even glancing at your book, he responded, "No."

You blanched. "You haven't even looked!"

"That's because I don't make math, dumbass." He responded.

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Huh? Why not?"

Rin shrugged, his eyes still glued to his book. "I don't need it. Why would I waste time on such trivial things?"

"But then... what are you doing now?"

You curiously chanced a look at Rin's book, wondering what he actually did do.

"English?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Is that the only subject you learn for?" You asked incredulously.

Rin irritatedly looked up. "Yeah. I don't need anything else, as I've said before."

"Well... how good is your English then?" You couldn't help but ask.

"Tch." Rin rolled his eyes as he shoved a paper in your face.

With a perfunctory eye roll at Rin's typical antics, you grabbed it from him.

Your mouth fell open.

"Rin?! You got full marks on the writing assignment?"

"What? Should that be a surprise?" Rin replied, aloof.

"Uh... I guess... no?"

The answer was yes. One thousand times yes.

The writing assignment was extremely difficult, even just one eeny teeny mistake could cost one tenth of a point.

And Rin had received full marks.

"You... how did you not make any mistakes...? You had to write at least twenty pages..." You whispered, amazed.

Your eyes widened. "Wait--if you're that good, how come you're so shit--uh... less better at the others? You can easily be top of the class!"

Rin let out an exaggerated sigh. "How many times must I repeat this? I have no interest for things that don't have any purpose." He slammed his book closed.

He shoved his books in his bag. "I'm done with studying."

You checked the clock. Hardly twenty minutes had passed.

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're just going to fail all the other subjects?"

Rin's eyebrow tilted. "I'll get passable grades. The thing that really matters is becoming better and crushing my older brother."

"..."

Ignoring your baffled expression, Rin took out another notebook.

"What's that?" You peeked at his notebook over his shoulder, in which Rin was scribbling some notes.

"Football analysis." Rin curtly replied while taking out his protactor.

You chanced a glimpse at his notes.

The colour drained from your face.

"Wait Rin..." Your eyes widened.

"What."

"You... did you just apply the second rule of Newton?!"

"Huh?"

Nodding to yourself, you prodded a finger at Rin's notes. "Yeah, look. You've ciphered out from underneath which hook and with what amount of strength to hit the ball to get it in the right corner on a windy day!"

Rin rolled his eyes. "That's just common knowledge."

You gaped at him. "No, it's not. Look, you even applied Pythagoras there."

"I need to know the distance to the corner of the goal." Rin deadpanned. "Any normal person would know how to calculate that. Now shut up, I don't need your blabbering to disrupt me."

And with that, Rin went unperturbed back to his notebook, scribbling down more formulas and equations the man himself was unaware of.

You shook your head.

"Normal person, my ass." You mumbled.

Chigiri Hyouma

✎ Is good at explaining. If he wants to. Might be a little mean, but he means well.

✎ Favourite subjects are English and History, so he won't really spend much time on the others. Doesn't mean that he isn't good at them, though.

✎ His notes are neat and organised. Anyone would beg for them.

✎ Chigiri values speed and efficiency, so he'll make sure to be the first one who's done.

"Wow Chigiri, your notes are impeccable." You complimented in awe, as you watched Chigiri neatly highlight something he'd written in his elegant calligraphy.

"Ah, really? Thanks. Yours not too teribble, either." Chigiri carded his fingers through his hair.

You chuckled. "So, do you think you can help me with this question of English?"

"Hm? Sure." Chigiri looked up from his notebook. "Which one?"

"This one." You pointed at a particular trying question. "I'm wondering if this conditional is correct in this specific context."

Chigiri's eyes narrowed. "What did you have?"

""If I had been elected I would have been president by now.""

It was silent.

Then,

"Pfftt..." Chigiri's shoulders shook.

"Hey! Don't laugh!" You snapped, ears flushing red.

"Ha ha!" Chigiri slapped the table. "It's: "If I had been elected, I would be president by now", because it's a hypothetical happening in the past with a present result."

"Huh?" Your eyebrows whizzed together, before realisation dawned in. "Oh! I guess you're right. But," You punched his arm, "don't be such an arse about it!"

"Sorry, sorry." Chigiri said with a grin.

You made a face. "...You're not actually sorry, are you?"

"You're right, I'm not." Chigiri flipped his hair.

Tch. Diva.

You threw your hands. "You're impossible."

"No, I'm just fast." Chigiri winked, as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

You tilted your head. "What are you doing?"

"What? You haven't finished yet?" Chigiri teasingly flicked your forehead.

You grumbled, "I'll be faster than you."

"Oh, yeah? Try to catch up then."

And before you knew it, Chigiri had ran off.

"Hey! What are you doing?!" You yelled.

Chigiri's smile only widened, swinging with something in his hands.

Your eyes went wide.

"Give me my English book back!"

Chigiri ran.

"I'll pull your hair!" You threatened, voice suddenly dangerously close.

Aw shit.

Chigiri ran faster.

© Don't copy my work, use it in AI or Chatgpt, or for other nefarious means.

Masterlist

[dandylion240]

The wind whistled through the broken windows of the car. Jasper moaned as he regained consciousness. He pried his face from the steering wheel leaving behind a sheen of frozen blood reopening the cuts along his cheek.

Ignoring the pain he pulled himself from the wreckage. His hands doubled into fists pounding the top of the crumpled car. He screamed into the chilled air, venting his rage to the uncaring trees. “Should have tied him up” he muttered as his eyes read the tracks in the snow.

Prying the hatch open, he grabbed his survival pack and snow shoes. His quarry wouldn’t get far. Not in this snow. Few people traveled this road and even fewer would do so in a snow storm.

A smile crept across his bruised face. This was going to be fun. He enjoyed a good chase. He had no trouble reading the tracks Evan had left in the snow. He knew Evan was tired. From the tracks in the snow Jasper could tell each step was an effort and Evan was struggling through the deep snow on his way up the slope. By the time Jasper had followed Evan’s trail to the highway he knew Evan was hurt and moving slower. Stopping for longer rests. It was only a matter of time before Jasper caught up with him.

Evan stumbled, falling to his knees an alarmed cry bursting from his dry chapped lips. He tried not to lick them as he contemplated eating snow to quench his thirst.

Pulling himself upright he fell forward too tired to carry his own weight. He needed to rest. Resting meant stopping. Every minute he spent resting meant Jasper was one step closer to finding him. Sucking on his bottom lip he forced himself forward.

Trudging along the deserted highway he kept hoping a car would come. Hoping the driver would see him and stop. Hoping that help would come before Jasper found him. His breath caught as pain shot through his side. He tried to breathe shallow but even then his broken ribs protested taking his breath away.

Ignoring it the best he could he shuffled forward. His feet were numb making it even harder to walk. His hands were the same. “I’m such an idiot” he muttered to himself as he rebuked himself for leaving the shelter alone. If he had only taken someone with him. Logic told him it wouldn’t have mattered. Jasper would still have set his trap but he never suspected he’d use children as bait. He hadn’t thought he was that bad.

He stopped his ears straining to hear what sounded like a twig snapping. Looking over his shoulder. Searching the trees he saw…nothing. Nothing but trees. The feeling persisted. Something or someone was behind him. Alarm bells were shrieking inside his head, telling him to run. Run now.

A hand wrapped around his mouth muffling the cry for help he was about to shout as a car rounded a corner. “Be a good little boy and I’ll go easy on you” Jasper whispered harshly in his ear sending shivers down his spine as he was dragged deeper into the foliage, hiding them from the approaching car.

“Are you sure about this” Jonah asked sitting beside his twin on the couch.

“It’s what Evan would have wanted” Jayden’s voice and mannerisms listless.

“He would have wanted those boys in a warm safe bed” Jonah agreed. “I don’t think he’d have expected you to invite them into your home.”

“How do you know” he snapped his head jerking up an improvement from the slump he’d been in. “Evan risked everything to try and help them. The least I could do is make sure they’re safe.”

“That’s all well and good” he stopped when Ethan entered the room shaking his head. “Fine, I’m sure he’d want you to look after them” although at this rate Jonah doubted Jayden was fit to care for himself. The past several days had taken their toll on him. His eyes had bags and he’d lost weight.

Nodding Jayden’s glossy unfocused eyes stared into space. “Evan talked about adopting a child. Someone in need. Those kids need me.”

Shaking his head Jonah went to Ethan’s side. “It’s like he doesn’t hear me….”

“I’m sure he doesn’t” Ethan kissed his cheek. “The police are looking for any relatives those boys might have. There’s a possibility their mother may still be alive.”

Shivering Jonah couldn’t help but imagine how worried she must be. “I keep imagining Eli and Jolene on the streets like those two boys. She must be worried sick.”

Pulling him close to his side Ethan let out a sigh. “One would think so if Ryker’s recollections are correct. If she’s still with their father it’s not a safe place for them to return to.”

Jayden’s head jerked upwards, eye’s blinking slowly as if processing what was happening around him “have they found him yet?”

Giving Jonah a quick squeeze he joined Jayden on the couch. “They have some leads…

“Leads” he asked his eyes losing some of their glossiness.

“The night of the snow storm a driver reported seeing someone being pulled into the woods that fit Evan’s description” he explained.

“He’s in Brindleton Bay” his voice rising. “Where?”

“They don’t know yet” Ethan glanced towards Jonah uncertainty in his eyes. “It could be nothing. The driver is unsure what he saw. It was dark and snowing. It could have been an animal.”

Despair etched in the lines of Jayden’s face. Lips quivering as he fought not to break down. “I have to find him” he mumbled.

Reaching for his hand Jonah squeezed it. “Don’t give up hope. There are all kinds of hunting shacks in the woods near here. The police will find him if he’s here.”

“You only have yourself to blame” Jasper knelt beside Evan. He was cowering on the floor of the drafty old cabin. Through the cracks of the floor he could see dirt and a few straggly weeds poking their heads up, dried and gray. Gusts of frigid air moved the back of Evan’s hair.

Pushing himself up he glared up at Jasper. “You’re not going to get what you want.”

“What do you think I want” he asked reaching out to stroke Evan’s bruised cheek. His touch was almost gentle. “I ask for so little. Think of the innocent baby growing inside you. You want him to be strong and healthy don’t you?”

Evan placed a hand over his stomach, feeling the growing bump beneath his palm. His stomach growled loud in the small room. He loathed the grin that spread across Jasper’s face at the sound of it.

“Come here” he patted the seat cushion next to him.

Slowly Evan climbed to his feet shuffling the short distance to where Jasper sat in front of a fire. Gingerly he sat down like his entire body hurt to move it. He tried not to flinch when Jasper wrapped an arm around him pulling him close.

“See” he smirked “this isn’t so bad now is it?” He rubbed his hand up and down Evan’s arm as if they were lovers. “All you have to do is be nice to me and I’ll be nice to you.”

Leaning in close he lifted Evan’s face to his giving him a kiss that grew more heated making Evan squirm in his arms as he protested the unwanted touch.

Inhaling deeply, Jasper's nose wrinkled in distaste. “After you eat I’ll give you a bath.”

Fear clawed it’s way up Evan’s throat choking him. Groaning he turned his face away only to have Jasper clutch his chin tightly “don’t ever turn away from me like that again.” Grabbing his arm he dragged him to his feet. “This was my mothers” he fiddled with an old stereo until the record began to play sending musical notes around the room. Turning to Evan he smiled his eyes almost gentle if a little glazed “she used to sing this to me when I was little.” He sang to the music I don’t want a lot for Christmas. There is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true oh. All I want for Christmas is you.”

He stopped singing. Looking at Evan, his dark eyes shimmering “she used to tell me I was the best Christmas gift she’d ever had.” His hands tightened around Evan “than she left me.” He nuzzled into Evan kissing his neck “you won’t do that to me, will you?”

Evan swallowed unsure how to respond, sure the man was having a psychotic episode. Nodding Jasper continued to sing as if unaware of anyone else in the room. When it finished he pulled Evan to the table where a stale peanut butter sandwich waited for him on a crusty chipped plate. “Eat” he ordered his voice harsh and gruff.

Taking a bite, the peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth, Evan tried not to gag as he forced it down. He kept his gaze on the dirty table afraid to find Jasper watching him. Reaching across the table Jasper touched his hand “you’re all I want for Christmas.”

Evan felt his heart lurch in his throat as the sandwich turned to lead in his stomach. “I just want to be home for Christmas….”

Previous/Next

[lucabyte]

A belief in Nominative Determinsim

[o-sunny-day]

I AM GOING TO COME BACK TO THIS ONE I HAVE TOO MANY IDEAS AND I WANNA GET TO OTHERS BUT THIS WILL BE ADDED ON TO.

THANK YA @f1ns FOR THE REQUEST AND THE BEGINNING OF AN AVALANCHE!

[cherry-treelane]

There's something so poetic about how El is the centre of all the chaos, wanted by the government and military and Mike is her strong calm that doesn't hesitate to get sucked into her storm and stand by her side in the face of any conflict. Like guys. This little boy did not hesitate to protect her and stand off in the face of the government to defend her, going against all the typical patriotic rule-following norms of an American Suburbanite Middle class nuclear family. He comes from pure safe normalcy but doesn't hesitate to run in the other direction heading towards chaos and danger if it means she's there... because he feels safest with her and is driven by the instinct to protect her. 😭🩷 There's something so beautiful and inspiring about someone as hurt and troubled and chaotic as El being loved in such a simple, unconditional way. Mike doesn't see her for the chaos she represents which surrounds her, he sees her for the innocent goodness that she actually is— her calm, gentle demeanour and the warmth it makes him feel. He understands that all the danger that comes with being with her is through no fault of her own, and actively works to help combat all the forces against her. He knows that despite being the centre of the chaos she's not the cause of it, she's the remedy for the effect of it and that is an undeserved, exhausting punishment yet a burden she bears regardless without complaint— a sign of her innate goodness which Mike recognises and loves her for all the more. Even moreso, he works to share that burden with her and criticise it because he sees how innocent and undeserving she is of the responsibility infringed upon her. His willingness to take all of this on is so wholesome and exactly the kind of sweet effort-full love that a character like El deserves, which is so gratifying for the audience to see.

[dr-lurker]

AU in which stargoth doesn't quarrel over keys and wishes but also doesn't know each other... until Chase, who partecipates as an artist to a project that basically lets people dedicate songs via telephone to their loved ones by choosing a small musician, selecting one of the available songs, leaving the receiver's number in their page site and add a message for the artist to read out before singing the song on the phone if the sender wants to, has to deliver one single song to Nox by calling him.

But Nox hates answering to unknown numers, so he doesn't, and to his contempt the calls just keep going on for days and days, up to the moment he decides to pick up in order to tell whoever the hell it is on the other line off. In the worst way possible. As one does.

Cue some arguing, Chase calling Nox again and again just to sing songs he knows he'll hate with his acoustic guitar, and Nox maybe getting used to the new routine. Perhaps there might even be a proper serenade in the middle of everything.

(The site is not my idea tho, it truly exists. I didn't explain it properly, but it's so well done and the artists are so talented.)

[miixz]

Mu Qing being chosen as the major representation for lower class struggles in the TGCF fandom (as far as I've seen it at least) is a choice that I find... interesting.

I understand where it's coming from, of course, and I see how his bitterness at the class system could be relatable, but it feels odd to me that Hua Cheng is missing from those discussions while we've seen that he was very much not living in any luxury as a child. He was in fact worse off than MQ who got to study cultivation and work for the prince.

I don't quite know how to put this into words, but I do think it says something about unconscious biases that the man who was able to ascend and enjoy being at the highest class he could possibly aspire to be while doing nothing to further criticize those systems is the one propped up, while the one who did achieve success but through unconventional means isn't.

Being the king of a city full of ghosts just isn't as glamorous of a fantasy to live vicariously through as a golden palace in the heavens, I suppose, in spite of this being something MXTX is actively criticizing in her book.

[bayetea]

Thoughts on Luke? just curious, i love all your pjo stuff and i saw that you like thaluke so 👀

(resisting the urge to say "no one gets him like I do") to be completely honest barring that one thing luke is probably the best written original character in the entire percy jackson franchise

[daily-hanamura]

[necrotic-nephilim]

18, 19, 20, 22!

for the chose violence ask game!

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

oh SO SO many things. so many things this fandom sleeps on, by proxy of a lot of people not reading the comics. i think the fandom is sleeping on the fact that Jason was Red Robin before Tim. i think the fandom is sleeping on Batman: Prodigal, the *first* time Dick was Batman and Tim was Robin with him and how they bonded during that era, when it was just them. (the DickTim potential. it's all i'm saying.) i think the fandom is sleeping on Helena Bertinelli in *general* and her connections to the Batfam. i think the fandom sleeps on the family that the Bats have outside of the Batfam. (ie: Cass' siblings, Damian's family on his mother's side, Dick's sister, Steph's mom, etc) i could go on forever. but i think the main thing is family, just bc to me i always find it odd when the Batfam are stripped of their family and important relationships outside of their little sphere bc i find it wildly unrealistic and boring and sometimes i wonder if the fandom knows these characters even exist.

19. you're mad/ashamed/horrified you actually kind of like...

BAD PARENTS JANET AND JACK DRAKE. it's my guilty pleasure. and i KNOW it's not canon and OOC from the information we have. i even actually really enjoy Jack Drake as a character and i especially enjoy Dana Winters, Tim's step-mom. in canon i find these relationships are really nuanced and rich. but for fanon? everytime i will always lean into the Drakes sort of sucking. i'm just unhinged for concepts where they're cartoonishly neglectful, members of the Court of Owls, literal criminals/psychopaths, etc. it's so fun to add that layer of nuance to Tim even though the whole point of Tim was he was a normal kid with a normal life who happened to find out Bruce Wayne was Batman. like i will always defend Jack Drake when discussing canon. but i will write him as an evil, evil bastard in fics. i can't explain it. it just calls to me.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

when Bludhaven blew up and the whole One Year Later thing. it felt sloppy and so fucking needlessly petty on behalf of Dan Didio. he wanted to kill *one* character he had a hate boner for, and an entire city gets nuked and then we flash forward a year? it's just such needless writing. it's tedious to work around in fanfiction and i always ignore the entire thing. nothing about it was done to develop Dick or any other character, or done to have real consequences and a thought out plot compared to things like No Man's Land, it was just Dan Didio trying to kill off Nightwing. so i don't like it. i also found the era when Jason was Wingman pretty boring. i think it could've been fun to try to pivot Jason's character but the whole thing is bland to me and i ignore it, even as a pre-Flashpoint Jason stan. also, the entirety of War Games. but i wouldn't say i find that boring, more-so i find it infuriating how much the writers despised Stephanie Brown and bent over backwards to make her the villain and put so much destruction on the back of a teenage girl just trying to be good. also i find most Crisis Events tedious and i ignore them. i simply cannot be made to care.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

oh this is so tough to answer without repeating answers from above oh god. i think the fact that Helena made Cass' Batgirl suit is a big one for me, and that she was briefly Batgirl. there are so many interesting things to be done with Cass wearing a suit that Helena made instead of making her own. and that the mouth covering is something we associate with Cass' verbal issues, but it was Helena who put it there first, meaning Cass didn't pick it, but she leaned into it anyway. i think you could do a lot with that character wise. also Bette Kane. i would like her to stop being ignored. oh and the entirety of Knightfall. how is such a massive arc in the comics largely glossed over by the fandom, i will never understand that there isn't at least *mention* of Jean-Paul in fics where Tim is Robin.

oh ALSO my favorite thing, that Dick has hallucinated Jason multiple times while Jason was dead. that will never leave my mind. the common thread of most of the Batfam hallucinating people is just neat in general.

[july-19th-club]

harrykim and tomparis hopelessly awkward in the cafeteria what social blunders will the commit!!

[sevenhundred721]

Shen Yuan didn't have poor reading comprehension actually. He's pretty in tune with PIDW's writing. The problem is more that he failed to grasp the fact that he WASN'T living out the plot of PIDW as Shen Jiu, he was living out the setting of PIDW with a Shen Qingqiu avatar. He has poor social literacy and an inflexible worldview. But if there's one thing he can and will do, it's read the fuck out of a novel.

[thecatspirits]

- TO DO LIST -

Analysis of the queer coding of Eddie and Richie across all IT canon material (1986 novel, 1990 miniseries, and 2017 & 2019 films + possibly The World of IT, Official Character Spotify Playlists, and 11/22/63)

Analysis about my interpretation of the Losers Club fears in the 1986 IT novel and the changes made in the 2017 & 2019 films

General character analysis of each Losers Club member

Time-accurate music playlists for each Losers Club member for my IT AU called Ouroboros

Analysis of the queer coding in the Quarry Scene