#hi i'm trying to open up about some serious trauma over here and get some support and you keep trying to distract from that which I like

[snekdood]

i think I figured out what kind of ppl I dont like- it's ppl who treat life like a constant low-stakes comedy tv show where everyone forgets what happened yesterday unless its convenient to the plot

[thepencilnerd]

sticky-notes and leftovers

thank you to everyone who voted in my last poll! ask and ye shall receive 🫶

summary: a glimpse into your daily notions with robby after moving in, a.k.a., literally just fluff to escape the reality that s1 finale is tomorrow

the first note appeared three days after you officially moved in.

It was stuck to the cabinet above the coffee maker, slightly crooked. Ballpoint blue. Classic. Robby’s handwriting—surprisingly neat for a doctor, dad-esque, deeply serious in a way that made you laugh.

Coffee’s ready. Don’t forget to eat something.

Below that, in smaller script:

p.s. you’re not as subtle about skipping meals as you think.

You’d rolled your eyes. Smiled. Made a mental note to write back. The next morning, you left one stuck to the fridge:

Thank you for the coffee. I'm still mad you beat me to it. Again.

And just like that, it began.

It wasn’t intentional, at first. The notes were mostly functional—reminders about groceries, schedules, patients one of you needed to follow up on. But they bled into softer territory quickly. Encouragement. Sarcasm. A shared language built in 3x3 squares of neon.

Good luck today. You're a miracle in scrubs. (check the leftover lasagna before you thank me. It’s kind of a war zone in there) I love when you sing along to the radio in the shower. I wasn’t singing. The shower was. Sure

By month two, there was an entire corner of the fridge reserved for them, layered like scales, curling at the edges.

Some mornings, he’d stumble out of bed to find his thermos with a note taped to the lid:

Be nicer to Whitaker. He’s trying.

Other nights, Robby would get home late and find one on his pillow:

Welcome home. You smell like hospital. I’m still glad you’re here. I love you.

He’d stand there for a moment, reading the words, the weight of the day falling off his shoulders. You’d be asleep by then, curled up on your side, hair slightly mussed from the pillow, the soft rise and fall of your breath the only sound in the room.

He’d lean down, brushing a kiss to your temple, careful not to wake you—but still, you’d smile, faint and sleepy, like your body knew he was near even before your mind did.

Sometimes, he’d whisper something only the walls could hear—missed you today or you’re everything—then set his phone to silent, take a shower, and crawl in beside you, the note tucked into his journal.

The ritual became a comfort. A constant. Something grounding when the days were long and the shifts were brutal. When you barely saw each other except in passing, there were always the notes.

Until the day you had the worst shift of the year.

It had been back-to-back traumas. A code blue that didn’t end well. A young patient who reminded you too much of someone you used to know. You didn’t cry, not in the moment. Not until you got home, peeled off your coat, and saw the Post-It on the inside of the fridge:

Soup’s in the fridge. Eat first. Then fall apart if you need to. I’ll be home before midnight – M.

You’d pressed your thumb over his name like it could hold you together. Ate the soup. Didn’t fall apart.

Not until you saw the follow-up note stuck to your pillow:

You don’t have to be strong for me. Just be.

You left your reply in the bathroom mirror, scribbled while brushing your teeth:

I love you. (also, we’re out of toothpaste)

He never brought it up. Just replaced the toothpaste. Kissed your forehead like it was all part of the same conversation.

One morning, months later, Langdon accidentally opened your lunch container in the fridge and found a note stuck inside:

Remember to eat. (yes, I know you will forget) This is me pretending to be surprised ~OoO~

Langdon had stared at it. Then took a picture. Then texted Dana, who texted McKay, who dragged Collins into it.

By the time your shift ended, the entire department was in on it.

You returned from rounds to find a Post-It stuck to your locker:

If he doesn’t marry you, I will. - Dana

Robby’s handwriting appeared below in green ink:

We’re taking applications for flower girls - Robby

Collins passed you in the hallway and grinned. “Power couple energy.”

McKay gave you a thumbs-up and said nothing. Langdon winked. Mel smiled shyly. 

You shook your head, embarrassed but smiling. Your heart full.

You never asked how they knew.

You didn’t need to.

It was a Wednesday night when Robby found you standing in front of the fridge, rereading the corner where you kept them. The notes were a riot of color—blue, yellow, green, pink—some faded, some brand new.

He stepped behind you, sliding his arms around your waist. Rested his chin on your shoulder.

"You keeping all of them?"

You nodded. "Even the one where you said the leftover stir fry was cursed."

"It was cursed."

You leaned back into him. "I like them. All of them."

"Even the stick figure one where I drew you doing a laparotomy with laser eyes?"

You laughed. "Especially that one."

He was quiet a moment longer. Then whispered, "I’ll keep writing them. For as long as you’ll let me."

You turned in his arms and kissed him, soft and slow.

"That better be a promise, Robinavitch."

"Sticky note vow," he whispered.

And when you pulled back, he was already reaching for the notepad.

[poisonofthepaint]

lucky you

jack calls you in on your day off, which leads to hooking up in the on-call room, which leads to him finding your tattoo.

wc: 2.5k

cw: MDNI, semi-public sex, f!reader, age gap, pinv, oral, lmk if i'm missing anything!

The date you were heading toward was less than exciting. You knew you needed a life outside of the hospital, Dana had given you a wake up call last week. You had been working doubles like it was nothing, but this was your first day off in a while, so you figured you’d download a dating app, get a free dinner on a Friday night. Not that you couldn’t afford dinner, this was more like dinner and a show. Max was a kind guy, but you could tell he didn’t take you seriously— that he underestimated you. So this was your chance to show up a man, and have him pay for your dinner. Win win.

Then, your phone rings. The ringtone that you have set for hospital staff interrupts your music and blares through the speakers. You groan, checking to see who it was. You were surprised to see that it was Jack, you figured since he was agreeing so hard with Dana last week that he would be the last person calling you.

“It’s my day off,” you answer

“I need you here.” Jack sounds out of breath. 

“Are you kidding?”

“You know I’m not. Ellis is sick, I thought we could manage but we cannot. I need you here.”

“You’re buying me dinner.” you say, exasperated.

“Gladly,” Jack ends the call. 

You know he wouldn’t call you unless it was actually an emergency, Jack wasn’t like that. He wanted to be able to manage. He wanted to be able to handle it by himself. So when he calls you, it’s important. You take off the blue dress you had on, switching it out for a plain white t-shirt before throwing your scrubs on top. You grab the bookbag full of your supplies for shifts and head out of your apartment.

The hospital is only a few blocks from your apartment, so you walk. It’s a bit chilly out; the springtime air blowing through the trees. It looks like it’s gonna storm, and you get to the hospital right before it starts, ducking your head as you walk into the entrance. 

The patients are grouchy in the waiting room, all groaning and yelling. The seats must’ve been taken up hours ago, there’s more people standing than sitting. You push your way through the front door.

“Good, you’re here.” Abbot was waiting at the doors like he had timed you. “You’re not supposed to wear perfume here.” he chastises.

“Had already sprayed it when you called me, figured I didn’t have time to shower.” 

“Right,” his eyes catch yours and he refuses to look away. “We have a lot of injuries from a car crash. A bunch of guys were speeding on the highway and about six of them were sitting in the open truck bed. A semi driver didn’t see them swerving around and knocked them off the road.”

Jack finally breaks eye contact and walks away, you follow him back into Trauma 1. There’s a young guy, probably around twenty-three, screaming in pain. His hand is holding on by a string, like, literally. It’s barely connected. 

“Noah, this is my best resident, she’s gonna take a look at you.” Jack tells him, yelling over the boy’s own screeching.

“I don’t care who she is, fix my fucking hand! I’m on a baseball scholarship!”

“I’m really glad I cancelled my date to be here.” you say, examining his arm.

“You were going on a date?” he says, you think you hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice, but you brush it off.

“Aren’t you the one who told me to go have fun?” Jack doesn’t answer, just goes back to the patient, and you do too.

There are a lot of injuries, some superficial, some very serious. Noah will lose his hand, because he was stupid. You learn that he was the driver of the truck, and that he was drinking. You try to have empathy for all of your patients, but it’s hard when they’re being willingly stupid, and killing their friends. Noah heads up into surgery, and everything is rather stable now. The ED returns to its normal business, waiting for beds upstairs, triaging emergencies from the ambulances. 

You sit at your station and chart your patients, trying to remember all that happened in the whirlwind of your arrival. Jack stands right in front of you, charting as well. He looks back once, twice.

“You need something?” you ask, glancing up at him.

“Nah, just making sure you’re good.”

“I am just peachy, although I could use some dinner.” you smile up at him brightly.

He makes a noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, “Guess I did promise.”

Jack pulls out his phone, opening DoorDash before handing it over to you. You swipe through the restaurants before you find some Chinese place that catches your eye. You put what you want in the cart before handing his phone back to him.

  “Thank you, Dr. Abbot!” you get up from your seat and go to do a round of checkups.

You briefly see him shake his head as he looks down at his phone. 

It’s  a while before the food gets there, and even longer for the driver to argue with the nurse at triage. Jack finally sees the commotion and goes out and grabs it, apologizing to the nurse.

He calls you over and you grab the food, heading into the breakroom. You sit down and open up the paper brown bag. You think about how your night worked out, you got free dinner and a show anyway. And this was actually a show you quite enjoyed. You did love your job, maybe an unhealthy amount. But you had worked so hard to get here, and you were good at it. You were Abbot’s best resident. You were fast at assessing and scoping out which treatment would be best. You flew around the ED like it was nothing to you. 

After a few minutes of eating alone, Jack came to join you, taking what he ordered out of the bag.

“So, what’s wrong with Ellis?” you pry.

“She thinks she has the flu, super high fever and throwing up.”

“Got it, just wanted to make sure this wasn’t all a ploy to get me here on my day off.”

“And if it was?” Jack asks. 

You’re stunned for a second before you regain yourself, “Then I would say you’re very unprofessional, and that you’re interfering with my personal life.”

He shrugs– smirks, “You don’t want a healthy work life balance. Plus, we have fun together, don’t we?”

You try not to think about how he can read you; how he’s got you memorized like you’re the back of his hand. “We do.”

You finish your food and throw the empty container in the trash, excusing yourself. You swoop into the on-call room, trying to calm yourself. You rest your back against the door and swipe a hand down your face. 

The truth is, you’ve had a crush on Jack since your first day at The Pitt. it was a schoolgirl one at first, you thought he was cute. It was fun to be attracted to your boss; to have a little work crush that you could be excited about. But then, it started getting deeper, Jack paid extra attention to you, he could tell that you actually enjoyed the ED. You were always with him on cases, he picked you for his ‘team’ during busy mass casualties. He got to know you, you got to know him. He was no longer a mysterious crush who you just thought was cute. You liked him, in a way you didn’t want to. It was distracting some days. It was even more distracting when you had a feeling you weren’t being delusional. When you wondered why he called you, a second year resident, instead of one of the seniors, or another attending. 

There’s a knock at the door, and you open it, shocked to see Jack standing outside. He walks in and you allow him, moving out of the way so he can lock the door behind him. You can feel your heart in your throat. You sit down on the bed, hoping it’ll stabilize you. 

There’s silence; tension you could cut with a knife. He stands with his hands resting on a countertop. The storm rages outside the window, a big crack of thunder rings throughout the room. Jack is just looking, trying to scope you out. He pushes off and approaches you. You swallow, and look down at your feet, trying to avoid eye contact, but Jack isn’t having any of it. He grabs your chin and tilts your head up, forcing you to look at him. He leans down, presses his forehead against yours. He lets his lips ghost yours— just barely.

“Tell me to stop.” he begs, out of breath, just like when he called you.

You place a hand on his neck, fingers threading lightly through the hair at the bottom, “What if I don’t want you to?” He groans, burrows his head into your neck. “I want it, Jack, of course I want it.” 

That’s all it takes. His lips are on yours without another beat. The kiss is rough— needy. Your teeth clash against each other, and his tongue explores your mouth. He lays you back onto the bed and your legs open, making room for him. He settles himself and gets to work on your neck, his hand slowly slides up your shirt, resting on your stomach.

He’s still being cautious, you think. You push his hand up and he cups your breast. He makes a strained noise when he feels the lace on your bra.

“You were gonna wear that for him?” Jack asks, right into your ear.

“No, I was wearing it for myself.” an honest answer. 

Jack rips your pants off and sees, what he assumes, is the matching thong. The underwear shifts down a bit, and you think Jack is gonna pass out.

Your small tattoo, a mistake from undergrad. A scripture on your hip that reads, ‘lucky you.’

“You’re gonna fucking kill me, kid.” he brushes his thumb over the words. Thinks about them. Doesn’t move for a minute. 

“Good thing we’re in an emergency department.” 

The nickname sends a wave of arousal through you, just like it always does. It’s how he usually referred to you during emergencies, when you’d catch something that no one else saw. It was how he praised you. You never imagined you’d hear it in this context.

Jack stands up and you whine. He quickly strips off his clothes and is back on you in a second. He rests on his stomach and kisses your tattoo sloppily.

He rips off your underwear with ferocity. You’d be smart to feel a tinge of embarrassment. He is your boss. But you don’t. This feels right, this feels good. He swipes a finger through your folds and you keen. 

“So wet for me.” he mumbles.

Jack wastes no more time. His tongue makes quick work on your clit. He moves like he knows you. Like he’s done this a million times, like there’s no room for error. And there isn’t. You both knew this needed to be quick. There were patients outside of the door, and the nurses and other doctors will be wondering where you two went. He works at your clit and you try your hardest to not make any noise. He looks up at you while his tongue is buried in you, and you let out a cry. He reaches a free hand up and covers your mouth. You bite down on it and let your head fall back on the lumpy pillow.

Then, Jack pulls away. “The fuck?” you say it into his hand, so it’s a bit muffled.

“We’ve only got time for one thing. You’re gonna come when I do. Just had to get you ready.” He says.

You want to salute. You want to scream. You don’t really know how this is happening. 

Jack pulls off his boxers and you gulp. You see why he needed to get you ready. The length alone was bigger than anything you’ve taken, but he was girthy too. 

He pulls a condom out of a drawer in the room. “Did you stash that in here?” you laugh.

“No, they keep them in here. I always wondered why, but now I see.”

He rolls it on quickly and comes back to the bed. He rests on his heels, taking you in. “Are you sure?” Jack asks again.

“I’m positive. I’ve wanted this since I met you.”

He nods slowly, small smile coming to his lips. He moves so his hands are right next to your head. Jack lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in deep. 

“Shit,” he mumbles. “So fucking tight.”

“You feel so good,” you cry.

“Yeah? This good for you?” He sets a brutalizing pace, hips never faltering. His head falls into your neck again. “Your perfume is driving me fucking crazy, sweetheart. Could smell you whipping around this hospital. Every time you passed me, I thought I was going to have to take you right there.”

He’s rambling now, you realize. Pussydrunk from how you feel. 

“Maybe I’ll have to wear it more, break the rules a bit, if it leads to this.” you say, resisting the urge to moan in the middle of your sentences.

He pants, stifles his own noises. “You’re close,” you say.

“It’s been a while, every time I went on a date, I would just think of you.” 

“Is that true?”

“I’m already in your pants, no reason to lie.” his hips start to stutter. “Y’gonna come with me?”

You scope out the feeling in your stomach and focus in on it, Jack brings a hand down between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. “Fuck, God, yes. Yes, I am.”

The room is filled with heavy breaths, the air has gone thick. You spot a bolt of lightning run through the sky and grab Jack’s head, bringing his ear down to your mouth. “Now,” you whisper.

The thunder hits right as you both finish. It’s loud enough to mask the noises neither of you could hold back. He continues the pace until you come down. You both gasp into each other. Jack slowly pulls out, taking the condom over to the trash can and burying it under some paper towels. 

He comes back to the bed and sits on the edge, massaging your shin. “I’m gonna make an assumption and say that was the best sex of your life,” you scoff, but don’t deny it. “But, we have to get back.”

“I know,” you say, wishing you could stay in this room forever. “God, this is really gonna fuck with my work life balance.”

Jack laughs and stands up, placing a kiss on your forehead. “C’mon, lucky girl. We’ll figure it out.”

[ooffmlsorry]

OP Men Dating a "Girly Girl"

A/N: sorry this took so long and I haven't posted anything original in a minute my life is mess and I'm so very tired jfc...I know this isn't more than my usual group but I was just gonna stop at Luffy and then decided to add Ace and Sabo as a thank you because writing these and putting them on Tumblr has been really good for me, so thank you for always being here to indulge me 🥲 ❤️

Sanji, Zoro, Law, Luffy, Ace, Sabo

Sanji

Let's be honest, girly-girls drive Sanji craaaazzzzyy (not that all women don't, but he's definitely more partial to the feminine ones) Your make-up, pretty skirts and dresses, jewelry, and manicure, he can't help fawn over you constantly 😍Although you do it because you enjoy it, it's nice that your efforts are so appreciated!!

He spoils you soooo baaaddd!! He literally can't help himself when he sees something pretty or cute that reminds him of you, he has to get it for you. You're drowning in squishmallows at this point.

A river of blood shoots from him every time you show off a new outfit. You're going to kill him and he'll thank you for it.

Dressing up in nice outfits together, especially on date night, is a shared activity that you love to do together. Y'all are living your best happily ever after lives.

Ya'll definitely have scheduled self-care nights. You put on some slow music, open a bottle of wine, draw a bubble bath, all that.

He's utterly useless when it comes to helping you pick your outfits or makeup if you're stuck because he loves you in everything, it's too hard for him to pick. You're his perfect, beautiful Y/N-swaaaaan 😍💖💖✨

He does love to see you in pink or red though so he might default to those colors

Don't try to test your makeup on him lol, you're going to re-awaken the gender identity crisis...I mean Kamabakka trauma

Listen...I'm not saying Sanji has a mommy kink...I'm not even at Whole Cake Island so idk wtf is going on there. All I'm saying is if you give this man a bath, wrap him in a towel to dry him off, and rub him down with luxurious lotions and oils, you might awaken something...that's all...👀

ZORO

He has no clue wtf you're doing. If it weren't for the fact that there's no proof that witches exist in this world, he'd think you are one

He looks at your vanity full of serums, creams, scrubs, lotions, etc, not to mention the makeup and he's like "??????" Just completely baffled

But what do you expect? This man would use that five-in-one Irish Spring soap if he could.

Just because he doesn't understand it doesn't mean he doesn't appreciate and admire the fact that you have extensive knowledge in something he can't even comprehend

He knows you like nice shiny things, and again, while he doesn't get it, he does think it's really, really cute when you go starry-eyed over a necklace or an outfit in a store.

In the same vein, he knows how much you love cute things and animals. He has absolutely found a cute animal in the jungle, picked it up, and brought it to you just to show you because he knew you'd love it.

Sometimes in his own gruff way he'll agree with you that it's pretty cute. Thank you for helping this manly man admit things are cute and that's okay.

Other times, he's the one making sure you don't get distracted because it's so cute

Unfortunately and fortunately, you're pretty to him no matter what you do to yourself so it's all kind of a moot point to him.

You can try to ask him about which 'x' to wear, sometimes it's helpful because he'll throw out a really practical answer and then other times he's like "How 'bout you just go naked" 😏.

He'll wear a face mask with you like...twice a year. And he's going to bitch and moan about it but he does it because he loves you. The entire process is like trying to give a cat a bath "WHY IS IT SO COLD? THIS STAYS ON MY FACE FOR HOW LONG???"

Exfoliate this man at your own risk...I'm dead serious that water is going to be brown

LAW

I need you to know right now this man will let you paint his nails!!! I mean, not like gel or acrylics or anything, but he'll let you paint them any color as long as it's a dark shade of that color. You once designed Bepo on his middle fingers. He did in fact flip people off a lot more often when he had them.

Let's you wear a pastel boiler suit because you he loves you and wants to see you happy

Much like Zoro, he's got no clue what you're doing. He'll stand back and watch you while making the exact same face as the gif above.

He thinks he's being stealthy peaking around a corner to watch your morning or night routine, but you quickly catch on. Please please pleeaaassee ask him if he has any questions because he does. He's just really curious why you're doing what you're doing and what it does. It's basically skin medicine and he's really fascinated.

Knowing that you like shiny things makes his life admittedly a little easier, it's not that he doesn't think of what to gift you, he puts A LOT of thought into what he gives you, but knowing that earrings, necklaces, and bracelets always make you happy is great just in case of analysis paralysis or he forgets. Sorry.

Also you wearing the jewelry he gets you does something to him, especially a necklace he can pull on a little, mmhhm you're making this man struggle with impure thoughts.

You both love cute things, it's something y'all connect on. It's really good that you help him access that very neglected inner child of his and encourage him to coo and fawn over adorable animals with zero reservation.

He'll do skincare with you too when he's not super busy. He can admit it's kind of nice to sit in bed with a book, glass of wine, and a face mask and just bask for a minute

He acts like he hates when you rub serums across his face and use a derma roller on him but he loves it

Law doesn't really pay attention to your clothes, but when you really go all out he breaks out in a sweat and he can't keep his eyes off you.

LUFFY

I'm not saying he thinks it's stupid, it just...why have an hours long care routine when you could be going on adventure with him??? 😭😭😭

He will help you pick out your makeup but don't expect it to look good. You're gonna end up with neon orange eyeshadow and green lipstick. Like literally every "My Boyfriend Does My Makeup" youtube video.

Plays around with your stuff but that's because he has no idea what all these strange contraptions are. The moment you try to explain his eyes glaze over and next thing you know he's whisking you away to go do something more fun.

He likes the shiny bright stuff (highlighter), makeup probably is the only part he even remotely engages in because it's

Explain how contour works to this man and watch him lose his fucking mind, he thinks you're a shape shifter now (honestly this applies to all of them except Law and maybe Sanji)

He never notices what you wear, Nami is gonna have smack him on the back of the head to get him to realize you put on something fancy

Luffy points out everything, it just so happens that things he points out sometime happen to be cute animals

Hides in all the stuffed animals and squishmallows in your room to surprise attack hug you

*throws mud at you* "Is this the kind of mud you like, Y/N??" He really means well though.

You know those hair masks with all natural ingredients like honey and banana? Yeah, he's gonna start sucking on your hair like spaghetti...I'm so sorry.

He'll bathe with you but that's because he wants to be close to you, it's definitely not about being pampered or relaxing.

Try to put a face mask on him or something else and it'll just become a game of tag around the Sunny. You can't catch him and he's having a great time outrunning and outwitting you.

He knows this is all important to you so even though he doesn't get it he'd never make fun of you for it and the moment someone calls you "extra," he's kicking their ass.

ACE

Maybe all the glam is a little silly to him but that just makes you extra cute!

He will also absolutely let you paint his nails. Hell, he'll let you do a full beat on him just for fun and he'll wear it for the whole day because he's so unserious lol

...As long as he gets to do your makeup after...Much like Luffy you're gonna be covered in neon colors that don't even remotely match, but you guys have a great time lol

Admittedly likes to be pampered by you when he gets back from a long mission.

Please take a bubble bath with this man, it's not like the water is ever going to get cold!

I'm pretty sure you'd legitimately lead to Ace taking better care of himself. Got this man out here talking about his cuticles and shit lol

Honestly, it's really good for him because self care leads to self love and Ace needs a lot of help with that.

He tells Pops about all the stuff you do 1.) because he loves you and 2.) he hopes some of it will help Whitebeard heal a little, god bless him 😢

All of your hardwork doesn't go unnoticed, he legitimately gets kind of misty eyed when you really dress up because he's so so so lucky. He swears he doesn't deserve you.

He always brings back some kind of gift even whether it's a cute plushie or something exotic to wear from all of his long travels

I need to stress how much this means to him, everyone of these things is like a little proposal because he already knows you're it. Every little gift is leading up to a ring from this man.

He's also just genuinely impressed by the skill it takes to do your makeup so well, especially after he tries doing it on you

Much like his little brother unfortunately, he does play with all the little contraptions in your vanity, especially in the beginning because have you seen an eyelash curler? He's so confused lol

SABO

Sabo and Ace truly are his brothers because he really don't get all the effort lol

Admittedly, a lot of that is because he thinks you're so hot already what's the point???

Once he gets this is just how you are he's less confused, he's probably the most normal out everyone. He lets you do your thing, although he's really curious how you managed to always look amazing while being in the fucking revolutionary army!!?? Where are you getting the time???

If someone were to intrude on y'all on a free afternoon you're both in fluffy robes with face masks on and Sabo loves to pretend to act like a bitch when he's in selfcare mode with you lol

"Are you seriously bothering us right now, ugh! I can't even right now!!" And then you both break out in laughter

He really thinks you should teach others how to contour and do makeup because it has great applications for disguises and infiltration.

And brags about your skills to everyone

Wonders how many of your makeup supplies could actively be used as a weapon *eye roll* jfc Sabo

There's a part of you that secretly worries all your boujieness will remind him of his blood relatives, but he assures you that it doesn't because you have a good heart and he never doubts that

Besides, being a little extra with him helps him associate those things he used to associate with his blood relatives with you instead so it's even better

He spoils you so bad, but with a Sabo-flair, ie. stealing from shitty people and bringing it back to you because you're oh so more deserving of nice things let's be honest

He gets jealous of the cute animals that you squeal over hehehe, please hug him when he starts pouting

He'll always wear a little pink just for you ❤️

[sugawhaaa]

WOOYOUNG X READER

BRANCHES

Chap+er On€::

💉•{C@rdB0@rD}•💉

Warnings//genre:: DRUGS, mental disorders, violence, needles, suicide, alcoholism, cursing

Pairing:: patient!Wooyoung x fem!bodied!reader

A/N:: this was inspired by @no1likenas on janitor.ai! I actually love this so much and it might be a long serious but I have the attention span of a toddler so idk also anyone wanna be tagged in the next part???

Atz masterlist:: 💊

🎧::

Today is your first official day as a nurse at this asylum. The past few days were all introductions and getting familiar with the building and routine of the system. However, you had a run-in with one of the patients yesterday. He had somehow escaped from his room and was on a run for it. He walked right into you and you both stumbled over but he quickly got back up and continued to run. You stood there unsure what to do.

Another nurse passed you chasing down the man with a syringe containing a familiar liquid. Based on the needle itself and the color and consistency of the liquid you assumed it was some kind of sedation injection. You knew that this situation didn't involve you and you shouldn't get involved.

You were later informed that the man was named Wooyoung and he had a record of breaking loose, being violent, and getting sedated. He had these theories in his head that the nurses were trying to slowly kill him off with the drugs they were giving and injecting into him. Staff and doctors believed he had a very strong case of delusional disorder, most likely persecutor, and perhaps something else, though Wooyoung was nearly impossible to test. Any equipment or suspicious questions would set Wooyoung off and he'd become resilient in sharing anything, or he'd plainly lie.

In his teenage years, he was diagnosed with an anger disorder but the specific type switched between doctors. Some said he had a conduct disorder whereas others said it was more likely oppositional defiant disorder. He was on a mix of pills, switching between all kinds along with battling depression and childhood trauma. When he hit the age of 19, he had a psychotic breakdown and murdered his father and siblings. He was unable to kill his mother because of his emotional attachment but she committed suicide not long after the accident.

Wooyoung was on a run from the police for a while but it took only a few weeks for the police to find him. Ever since, he's been in mental institutions and asylums. His final placement is here, though if things don't improve he may be sent to a higher leveled asylum under the same branch.

You close the folder containing all of such information about Wooyoung.

"So, will you take on the task of treating Jung Wooyoung?" Your new boss, Seonghwa, looks up at you through his glasses on the other side of his desk. "I'm aware you were assigned to other patients previously but I believe, based on your record as well as his, you will be able to...handle, wooyoung better than others," he explains, his gloved hands resting on the desk. You take a deep breath as you consider his offer. "You have until tomorrow at 3 pm to decide. I won't force you to take on Wooyoung but I heavily encourage it," he nods his head and you look up at him, determined.

"I'll take him. Will he be my only patient?" You ask as you look back at his file.

"Yes. Wooyoung requires an outrageous amount of attention, especially if he caters to you," Seonghwa explains, "but your pay will remain the same," he explains. After some paperwork and legal talk, Seonghwa takes you to meet Wooyoung in his room, though his room looks more like a cell. Numerous locks and pins need to be entered in in order to open the door.

Once the heavy door swings open your eyes fall upon Wooyoung wearing a whiteout outfit as he lays on his bed, throwing a bouncy ball at the wall and back into his hand repetitively as he lays back on his bed, head draping down the side. "He likes to play with those, though they are rather hard so be careful," Seonghwa states calmly.

"I like them because it's the only shit you fucking give me!" Wooyoung sits up and throws the ball at Seonghwa's head, though he excellently dodges the throw.

"Wooyoung, this is Y/N, she will be your new nurse," Seonghwa gestures to you and suddenly you feel like you're looking at a dart and you're his target. Wooyoung's eyes scratch up and down your body and you can't tell if he's eyeing up prey or simply looking at you.

"Okay," Wooyoung scoffs, laying back down; this time his head rests against the pillow.

"Well that went well..." Seonghwa sighs and Wooyoung instantly sits back up.

"Stop treating me like an animal!" He barks, jaw clenched.

"My apologies," Seonghwa bows his head and Wooyoung stifles and angry growl in his throat.

"Look at you, hiding in the doorway because you don't know when I might snap and just go...savage," Wooyoung rises to his feet, long black hair dangling in his eyes. "Stop poking a stick at a feral beast and fucking shoot it," Wooyoung's voice is rough and angry, rage built up inside him. Seonghwa then closes the door.

"He's in a foul mood today," he explains as he clips in some of the locks. "If it makes you feel better there is a window you can watch him through but he can't see you there," he explains, "if you'd like to see his natural behaviors and such, it is available," Seonghwa then carries on with his business and you watch the ball on the floor roll with the wind of Seonghwa's movement. You crouch down, picking up the rubbery and nostalgic toy before turning back to look at his door. You considered giving it back to him but you worried that he would think you're treating him like a dumb dog.

Instead, you make your way to the room Seonghwa mentioned. It has all the information about Wooyoung, his medications, and the codes for his locks in there as well as the window. You sit down at the desk and look at the array of bottles of medication laid out and the syringes within arms reach on the wall. You sigh softly and browse through the names of his medications.

As you peacefully read there's a loud bang on the glass, startling you. You drop one of the bottles on the floor. As you go to pick it up Wooyoung begins to lick the glass, trailing his tongue along the entirety of the glass, creating a long streak of saliva. That's when you realize. You've bit off more than you can chew. Wooyoung really is more out of it than you thought. He then bashes on the glass again.

"I know you're watching me~" he grins as he claws at the glass. "Always watching me through that manipulative glass, too afraid to look the beast in the eye," he spits onto the glass as you go up to the glass. You see him then wind up for an aggressive kick, his boot clashing against the glass. You then hear the door open behind you and you jump to look at him.

"He's an interesting character huh?" Yeosang smiles softly before coming to stand beside you, watching Wooyoung fight the glass. "He does this sometimes. We believe it's because of his anger issues but it wouldn't surprise me if it's a behavior from his delusional disorder as well," he explains as Wooyoung shows his middle fingers to the glass, he knows someone is there so he displays all his rage.

"What exactly is his delusion?" You ask, turning to look at Yeosang. He sighs softly before looking back at Wooyoung.

"I think it'd be best if you heard him explain but I'll tell you the basis," Yeosang continues to look at Wooyoung's behaviors as he talks. "He believes we are slowly trying to kill him. "Pill by pill" in his words," he explains and your eyes widen.

"That's why he doesn't take his meds?" You ask and Yeosang nods.

"He has this belief that the government wants him dead and that's why he's here. He claims that he's heard staff talking about his death but I think he's trying to twist our words to convince himself his theories are true," He explains as Wooyoung moves to the door, pulling on it hard before kicking it and shouting some PG words. "Would you like to accompany me to give him his final meal of the day?" Yeosang smiles and you nod.

Yeosang leaves you to watch Wooyoung, make sure he doesn't hurt himself or escape somehow while Yeosang gets his dinner plate. When Yeosang returns the two of you make your way to Wooyoung's room. You open the door and take the plate from Yeosang. You see Wooyoung sitting on the center of the floor, staring at the wall.

"I've brought you dinner. I've heard you like this meal hm?" You smile and Wooyoung turns from the center of the floor to look at you.

"God I was starving," he stands up, approaching you warmly. All of that rage he executed earlier is now somehow...erased. This is the first patient you've been genuinely scared of because he's the most unpredictable bastard in the world. "Yeah, this is the best meal this shithole offers. The potatoes taste like cardboard but it reminds me of my mom's cardboard potatoes," Wooyoung takes the plate and sits back on the floor.

"Where I come from potatoes were included in almost every meal and they were always locally grown. I've never had cardboard potatoes," you chuckle and Wooyoung looks up at you, seemingly confused.

"You're not missing out much," he shrugs as he shovels some potatoes into his mouth. You look back at Yeosang who gives you a thumbs up and Wooyoung rolls his eyes before turning his back to you.

"You wouldn't let me try some?" You squat down to his level. He turns to look at you again and you can tell he's thinking hard. His jaw is clenched as he looks you up and down, eyes pausing at your breasts for a moment.

"I guess," he shrugs, handing you the plate and spoon with a rounded end and unbreakable metal. You take a scoop of the potatoes and try not to touch your lips with the spoon. Wooyoung watches you with rapt attention, his eyebrows narrowed in focus. "Taste like shit?" He smirks as you swallow the potatoes. They do really taste like cardboard....

"Kind of yeah," you chuckle, "they taste just like cardboard..." you rise to your feet again, and Wooyoung attempts to look up your skirt a little but it's just too damn long. He pouts slightly before looking up at your face. "Would you like something to drink?" You ask Wooyoung before turning to Yeosang. "What do we have to offer?" You ask him.

"We have milk, water and apple juice though I think it's expired," Yeosang replies.

"Milk or water?" You bend down to talk to Wooyoung again.

"Milk I guess," he shrugs before continuing to it his food. "Now shut up and let me eat," he turns his back to you again and you can't help but smile. You've made such progress with him already. You get some milk for him and when you return he still has his back faced to you. You set the cup beside him and head for the door. "Y/N," he says your name for the first time. You turn back to look at him.

"Yes?"

"Can I have seconds?" He holds up his empty plate and you smile. You go to the kitchen to get him some more and find the staff are actually quite friendly. You return to Wooyoung with a new plate of food and he gratefully takes it and eats again. You return to the watching room with Yeosang.

"He's never asked for seconds before, this is quite a big deal," he turns to you with his spinning chair.

"I think he likes me," you smile as you sit in the second chair, watching Wooyoung eat.

"It's a good start at least,"

To be continued

[soireegurl]

i have this idea for a fic but i cant write, lol so im dropping it in your ask box cause youre like the best yandere writer i know on here so here it is:

you running away from yandere!heeseung when you had the chance, then you encountered a nice guy (i imagine to probably be sunghoon) and then you tell him all bout you running away, heeseung, all that stuff. butttt here's the twist.. hoon has been stalking you for a looong time so yeah kind of like reader got away from a yandere just to end up with another yandere 💥

Omggg thank you for writing in! I'm so glad to hear that from you 😊 here it is sorry for the long wait! Hope you like it!

You’d been running for days, constantly looking over your shoulder, heart pounding. Heeseung, with his unsettling gaze and obsessive demeanor, was always one step behind. It was terrifying, knowing that someone so fixated was out to find you.

His words and actions are no doubt trauma for you.

It started all nice and romantic, Heeseung was the sweetest guy you've ever met and no doubt, you have fallen in love with this beautiful man. But things started to get handy.

Ever since you guys officially got together, he has been possessive. Like to an extreme amount.

To the point where you felt suffocated and scared. You tried to talk to him about it but he always turned to the same behaviour.

You couldn't take it anymore and decided to break up with him... Which obviously didn't turn out well.

"Heeseung... I... I'm sorry. I... Let's break up."

You said not looking at him. You didn't want to see any of that madness in his eyes.

"Baby... Was that a joke? Or..."

His tone wasn't warm.... It was cold. As if, if you said "no" the next second, he would tear you into pieces.

But you can't let fear over take you.

"No. I'm serious Heeseung. I want to break up with you."

And there... Boom!

You ended up in his basement for 3 weeks.

For 3 weeks, you have been trying to run. Of course failing almost every time.

But that day... You finally got out of his grip.

Then, amidst your frantic escape, you stumbled upon someone who seemed like a beacon of calm.

Sunghoon, with his warm smile and kind eyes, offered you a moment of respite.

You poured your heart out, telling him everything: how you’d been fleeing from Heeseung, how his intense obsession made your life a nightmare.

Sunghoon listened patiently, offering comforting words and seeming genuinely concerned. You felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe you’d finally found safety.

"I'm sorry to hear that Y/n... I'm here now... I will take care of you..."

But as the days went on, you began to notice little things. Sunghoon was always there, just when you needed him. It seemed like he had an uncanny ability to show up at the right place and time.

"Oh? Sunghoon? What are you doing in my house?"

"Here! I bought you some chocolate. I thought you might need this right now."

"Oh my god that's so sweet of you... How did you know that I am in desperate need of this right now?"

You smiled and took the chocolate from his hand.

"Every time you fail a test, you always get chocolates to cheer yourself up, don't you?"

He said with a proud smile.

But... You have never told him that... And you never told him that you failed your most recent test...

So... How does he know?

But at that time, you were too innocent to even notice this was odd.

Eventually, a year later, you and Sunghoon got into a relationship.

One evening, as you were looking through Sunghoon's phone, as your phone ran out of battery and you desperately needed a phone to do some research.

Curiousity got into you and somehow, you decided to open up Sunghoon's gallery.

you came across something unsettling. A series of photos you didn’t remember taking.

They showed you in various locations, from moments of vulnerability to everyday scenes.

Your heart sank as you realized these were taken by Sunghoon.

Confronting him, you saw a shift in his demeanor. His warm smile faded, replaced by a more intense, calculating gaze.

You sensed danger. Your body is telling you to run, and of course, you followed what your body told you to do.

You ran for your life.

Why have you never noticed anything?

“You didn’t think you’d escape that easily, did you?” he whispered next to your ears and he caught up to you.

"I didn't plan all this just to let you escape..."

He said and smirked.

"What... What do you mean?"

"You know... I could have just given you a backup phone... I'm not that stupid Y/n.."

"I want you to know how much I love you... And you should love me as much too..."

The realization hit hard. You had run from one yandere, only to fall into the grasp of another.

Sunghoon’s obsession, hidden behind a facade of kindness, was just as consuming.

The cycle of escape and obsession seemed never-ending, leaving you to confront the stark reality of your situation.

[jamiedc-they-them]

Good People Part III: As you would have them do unto you. (Platonic)

Note: A summary of episode 3-4-beginning of 5. CW/ Discussions of PTSD flashbacks, trauma - mild mention of what happened in Reader's past; needles

Summary: Capture, being used as bait, having internal spirals you can't control, losing a finger, and almost having your organs harvested; something about that really bonds two people together.

Part 1 Part 2

"It's smart," you say, carrying the head, "his idea. His head, and whatever the hell is inside it, for your dad. It's a fair trade."

"It's horrible," Lucy objects.

"Most things are here."

"I hate it."

"Yeah, me too," you admit.

"How have you survived all on your own up here? I mean, no weapons or anything," she then realises how that sounds, "sorry."

You wave it off, accidentally waving the head in her direction, "you're good. And, I used to. I wasn't alone. Had some people."

"What happened with them?"

"Most of them took our stash and ran."

"'Our'?" She catches onto.

You pause at a water filled place. No way you'll get through that without something eating you.

You clench your jaw, "yeah...I was the only one left after a few days."

"I'm -" she goes to reach out, then remembers how you reacted before. She doesn't touch you, but her hand hovers near your shoulder, and she instead finishes her sentence, "sorry. I'm sorry for, whatever happened."

You shrug, "yeah, well. Guy pissing on my wound ain't the worst thing in the world, I'll say that," you leave the conversation there.

As you try and find a way through, a gulper jumps out of the water. It grabs Lucy on the leg, and knocks you away.

"Y/N!" Lucy calls out, being dragged, "Y/N, my gun!"

You put a hand to your head, it ringing. You blink to focus your vision, finding Lucy's drug gun in front of you. You crawl to it, the world moving in slow motion almost.

"Here!" Lucy says, throwing you a shot. You open the gun, and slot it in place.

You aim it up, as Lucy tries to kick the thing to get it to let go of her leg.

You fire. It hits the target. It works for a moment. Lucy gets scratched, but she isn't worried about that right now.

"Y/N! The head!" she calls out to you. You're already watching the Gulper run away with it and go into the water. You are already up and running. Lucy isn't far behind you.

"Dang it!" she says, before looking at her Pipboy, looking at the tracker for it.

She takes off her bag.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" You say, putting an arm out to stop her, "I'll go. I can swim better."

"You can't be serious!"

"Like you ain't just gonna jump in there yourself!"

A whistle breaks up your argument. There he is, the Ghoul from before. Lucy is on the ground the next moment, and a pistol is in your face.

"Don't move now, sunshine," he says to you, before asking Lucy about the head.

She doesn't know, she lies. Even saying "I lost it" instead of we.

So, you're both then tied up, and dragged.

To you, it's too similar to...to before.

You go silent, almost numb.

Lucy is dunked in the water. She keeps begging with the Ghoul, that doesn't help with your memories...

"Be like your friend," the Ghoul says, "and be more quiet, huh?"

You don't talk, not for a long time in your journey. You're just stuck in your head.

She's tried to talk to you time and time again, each time getting more concerned - even airing it to the Ghoul - but nothing comes of it. There's only one instance, when he talks to his Ghoul friend, you come back, sensing the atmosphere. You turn to Lucy, and look away from the scene. Lucy looks to you. It's enough to not let her see the man get shot at least. Even if the blood hits you both.

She can see that you've gone back to how you were when you first met, a mess on the edge it seemed. Desperate, and dying.

Now, more than ever, she understands what that's like.

"Y/N...drink, please," she begs. And, for a moment, you come out of your internal hell.

Slowly you approach it. And then human instinct takes over. You drink, as much as you can fit in your mouth, greedily. It isn't like when she met you. Here, you're a survivor. Not a friend.

You couldn't be that survivor right now. So, she would be in your place. She promises to.

It's why she runs, to try and buy you some time to fight back.

She gets lassoed, but rips off a finger. She loses her own.

"Now, as much as I respect you for it," the Ghoul admits, "try that again, and it's your friend who's next. And I'll give them something to stew over, ok?"

She nods, but he see's the threat in her eyes as well. A fire that's there. He looks back to you. someone who is so lost.

It reminds him of himself in the first few years of his search. He doesn't ask you, though. He tells himself he doesn't care - and, part of that is true, you're just cargo to get more of his meds - but, it's mainly because he's scared of what you'll say. And if it'll drag him back there as well. Grief, loss, pain, a hell of a motivator, but something you could also drown in as well. He drowned for a bit, for god knows how long - it's how his legend grew. But, he pulled himself together. Once you're gone, you can pull yourself together or not - that's not up to him.

So, he leaves you alone. Continues with Lucy, shooting the Vault-tech sign and all. He hated putting his thumb up for that dumb advert.

Lucy looks back to you. That gunshot has made you jump, but now your eyes are darting around. You're trying to find exits. You're, somewhat, back in the present.

You look to her, genuinley fearful - but she's just glad you're back with her. That she's not alone anymore. Selfish, she knows, but she's glad. Gets her hopes up somewhat.

You arrive at your destination, a supermarket. There, the trade goes by.

"Nice to have you back with us, sunshine," The Ghoul says to you, "shame it happened too late," he quips before shoving you forward.

You and Lucy enter the market. A Mr Handy robot greets you both.

"You will both be swell in no time," the bot says to you. Another, identical bot, approaches you, "my colleague here will have you in tip-top shape in no time."

You look to Lucy, 'fight' you say to her. She nods; 'be safe' is what she says to you.

You both go to different rooms.

"Now, my friend," the Handy says to you, "how may I help you today?"

"Uh, couple of cuts," you say, "some infection of some kind from urine."

"Oh, I do say, old chap, that does not sound sanitary at all!" you shrug, "well, not to worry. I have just the thing for you here."

You see the robot go past different cabinets. It even spins around at some point - maybe it was the urine that threw it off - but finally it finds something for you. Rad-away, and some antibiotics.

"Get those down you and let the Rad-away do its thing, and you should be good as new in no time at all!"

You inject the radaway into you, and take the antibiotic. You don't know if it's just you making it up in your own mind - fooling yourself - but you do feel stronger.

"How do you feel, old chum?"

"Better," you say, "thank you."

"Absolutely no worry, at all, my friend. Now, just sit still for this next part."

You do so, but soon regret it; as you are forced down onto the chair.

"What the fuck --"

"Now, now, no need for language like that! All will be ok soon. Just a small prick for your organs and then you're free!"

Well, when you put it like that --

A saw starts up. You struggle in the straps. Restrained, and having no choice but to wait for death, you've been here before. It was what made you be alone.

You manage to, just, loosen one of your arms, and turn just enough to make the saw hit the straps. You grab a tray, swinging it into the robot. Using the brief time you have, you undo your other strap and shove the bed into it. Adrenaline at a high. You can fight this time. You can stop it this time.

You grab a scalpel, and jam it into one of the eyes. You do it to another after dodging a swing or two. It falls to the floor, and you begin stamping on it. It won't get up, but you also can't let it live. This isn't a man pissing on you; this was something - programmed by someone - to harvest your organs. This is a threat. A raider like threat.

Still, this Mr Handy isn't to blame. It's been programmed to kill you. That, and it did heal you.

So, you crouch down, putting a hand on its head, say 'I'm sorry' to it, before driving your blade into it one more time.

It doesn't speak after that.

Removing the scalpel, you collect yourself. You did it. You set it right. The ghosts in your head can leave you alone now.

You get up, finding what sharp objects you can, before you start to leave and --

"Oh! Oh, Y/N, thank god!" you run directly into Lucy.

You both give each other a once over, nodding when you don't find any wounds.

"You have colour to your cheeks!" Lucy celebrates, "did yours --?"

"Try and kill me? Yeah. Yours --" you pause, looking at Lucy's, "...didn't?"

She looks back at it, then to you, "Oh, no, it did. I just reprogrammed it."

You put out your bottom lip and nod, impressed, "atta girl."

Lucy chuckles, "alright, what do you say we bust this place?"

You nod, and smile a genuine one, "let's do it," you say.

So, together, you do. Making them release the Ghouls. The last one...however, isn't a good call.

"Move!" you say, dragging Lucy away right as she grabs a gun. It goes off, the Ghoul goes silent. It's just you both left.

Lucy looks at her hands.

You get up, and move in front of her, crouching down, "it - it's ok," you say, not used to being the comforting type after so long...the ghost in your head of your previous time being like this play on you. Lucy isn't like that, like them, she's alive. She's had your back. So far, anyway.

She looks to you again, eyes lost like your one's once were.

"Hey..." you say, putting your hand out, letting it hover near hers. She looks to it, to you.

"How -- I --"

"I know, I know," you say, "it's ok. You had to."

It takes a moment, before she gathers herself. Her eyes go a shade of colder, "the, uh, the man who took us?" she says, seemingly out of the blue, "he traded us for those," she nods her head to something to your side; looking, you see it's vials. Orange ones.

You look back to Lucy, "no one else?" you say, knowing her line of thinking.

She nods, "no one else. Not if we can avoid it."

So, you give the Ghoul some vials, and leave him be to whatever it is that's next for him. It's not up to you.

Now it's you both again, walking side by side with some weapons to your name.

"Can I ask you something personal?" Lucy asks. her voice isn't as chirpy or in awe of everything as before. It's rougher, more serious.

You nod.

"What were you thinking about as we were dragged along?"

"Some people I let down."

She nods, "your family."

"I thought they were."

She nods again, "I lost some of mine, too. I never really knew my mother. I lost some friends to Raiders."

You nod this time, "you know what they're like then."

"Ruthless."

"Brutal."

"Animals."

"Arseholes."

"Butchers."

"You know they made me watch?" Lucy stays silent, knowing that you need this, "they took all my stuff, killed all my friends who wouldn't join them? Left me for dead. A...reminder, or something."

"How long ago was that?"

"Lost my Pip," you say, "didn't really count the days. Just sort of wandered as best I could. Guess I hoped the circles or something would be best punishment."

"You don't deserve that."

"Yeah, well, you don't deserve to be hauled around like cargo," you say, coming to a stop, "you don't deserve to drink that piss water. Or get shot at, or anything. You deserve the vault, and family and not the fucked up place that is up here with fucked up people like me!"

You hate the tears building in your eyes. Lucy hates seeing them.

"I'm not a good person, Lucy. And, to be honest, I don't fully know why you came looking for me."

"Because you're my friend -"

"Am I?" you fire back with, "I mean, jesus, I got you to Filly, got shot, then came with you for my own survival. I didn't help with the Ghoul, or any of that."

"Am I angry at you?"

"I don't know why you aren't."

"Because, and it's why I came back for you; you're my friend, when things come down to it, I know you'll help me," that smile returns, one of a genuine belief in people and her mission. You shut your eyes, your mind and ghosts of past failures telling yourself you don't deserve that look - let alone being called a friend - but you open your eyes and look at them. Not hiding from them.

You hear something, a cry out, and both turn to an abandoned tunnel.

You both go forward. Roaches are climbing over a Brotherhood of Steel suit. You and Lucy shoot the roaches.

"Look, my friend and I here, everyone we've met so far - aside from each other - have tried to kill us," Lucy tells the man in the suit. He promises he won't.

Lucy goes to say more, but instead vomit comes out.

"I have rad-away!" the man says, "I can help. Please, just let me out!"

Lucy collapses. You don't even think, you catch her and lay her down. Trying to shake her back awake.

"She doesn't have long until she's unconscious," the suit says, "I have what she needs to -"

"I know what she needs! Come on Lucy, come on!" You say, shaking her again. More vomit leaves her. You put her on her side.

"Look, just let me out and I can help her! Please! Please!"

You don't have many options. Desperation is a hell of a motivator. You go to the suit, turning the wheel and letting the man out.

"Thank you. Thank you --" he says to you.

"Thank me by saving her," you say, pointing to Lucy.

He nods, grabbing the radaway like he said. You put Lucy's head in your lap.

"You're gonna be fine, ok. You're gonna be fine," you promise her. You move some hair from her face. She coughs.

The man looks to you, and you nod. He injects the needle into Lucy. You see the transfusion start.

It takes time, but slowly the colour starts to return to Lucy's skin.

"Can --" she whispers, quietly, "can I hold your hand?" she asks.

You put your hand in hers.

"I - I knew I was a good judge of character," she wheezes, eyes opening and blinking a few times as she recovers, "I knew you were a friend."

You chuckle, half between that and a sort of sob of joy, "yeah," you say, "yeah, guess you were right."

You look to the Knight you saved, and give a nod of gratitude. He nods back, and sits back onto his hands, trying to recover himself, He's covered in sweat, likely having been put in the suit for a while.

"Thank you," you say to him, gratitude pouring through and walls being fully down.

"Thank you," he parrots back.

You nod, looking back down at your friend. She looks at you, giving you a smile.

You smile back.

She's ok. You haven't failed this time.

You've saved a friend.

You've saved a friend.

Part 4

[blackcoldcrackedheart]

So yeah, I wrote a different version in where Tommy adopts Daniel.

(Last post for some time btw)

Tommy isn't religious, but he's praying to whomever can hear him that the boy,who looks barely two or three years old, is okay.

He wants to desperately curse out the parents for being stupid enough to go hiking when the Santa Ana winds were getting stronger.

Tommy picks up the kid gingerly, waiting for his team to pull the parents first since they weren't responding. The kid had a horrible open wound that Tommy was betting was a fracture but the kid's eyes were open and he seemed alert- scared really.

Something about the kid's eyes felt eerily familiar- a sense of deja vu washed over Tommy. The kid's eyes were starting blue and so animated, that Tommy was sure he could read the kid's thoughts just by looking into his eyes.

He gently pushed back the kid's blond curly hair back, pressing against the wound as the kid's eyes could only look around in fear. "Hey, I'm Tommy. What you're name, kiddo?"

"Danny." The kid slurred, his voice barely a whisper. "Mommy and daddy hurt?"

Tommy nodded, "Yes, your mommy and daddy got hurt but my friends are gonna help, okay? We're all firefighters and we're gonna take you to the hospital so you can feel better." He explained gently. He looked up to the helicopter that Lucy was piloting l. The winds were harsh and he had covered Danny's face from having to see his parents sway in the wind as they were being pulled into the helicopter.

"Firetruck?" Danny's eyes were filled with wonder and excitement, of course the kid would love firetrucks.

Tommy laughed, " When we get out of here, we can go see firetrucks with your mom and dad. Okay?"

Danny's eyes drooped close, Tommy patted the toddler's face gently, "Hey buddy, I know you're tired, but I need you to stay awake."

"I'm not tired, Tummy."

Tommy nearly snickered at that, the kid was such a cutie pie. "Hey, what if we sang a song? Want to sing me a song?"

He heard it before he heard his team yell.

The sound of the ground shifting.

"KINARD!"

Tommy shielded the kid and tried to duck into the smallest crevice known to man, he prayed to whomever could listen that the kid would be okay if he wasn’t.

“Kinard, you good?” He heard Milton yell out urgently.

“Never better.” He yelled back, trying to not chuckle at how the avalanche would have definitely hit him if he hadn’t moved in time. He looked down at Daniel, the kid was holding onto his jumpsuit tightly, eyes closed and clearly afraid. “Hey buddy, we’re okay.” Tommy assured him, running his hand through his curls.

“The kid okay?”

“Shaken, but he’s a trooper.”

-

The kid was a trooper, but definitely afraid still. He had refused to move away from Tommy, or as the others were loving the new nickname; Tummy. Ashara was kind about it, fixing what she could as the toddler would cry whenever someone tried to touch him.

“You think he was okay at home?” Ashara asked, looking over the kid with a worried expression, “I’ve never seen a kid so clingy like this before.”

Tommy sighed, “I have…little kids need someone to hold onto when they survive trauma. The kid just witnessed his parents getting buried by rocks and dirt, I’m surprised all he has are just gashes and bruises from what I can see.” He rubbed Daniel’s back soothingly, smiling in relief when he realized that Daniel was sound asleep in his arms.

“Kinard.” Lucy’s voice came through his headset, a gentle but pointed warning.

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Just fly this thing, Donato.”  

-

Tommy had been firefighter for decades at this point. He knew the number one rule.

Their job ended at the glass door.

But this time…

Daniel was still clinging to him once they landed and once they tried to put the toddler onto a gurney, he had screamed his head off till he was red, his arms reaching out to Tommy.

He turned to his team, who were all watching and waiting for Tommy to make his next move, and then turned to the med team.

“You’re serious?” Lucy asked, her eyes wide as Tommy went up to a male nurse.

“Would it be okay if I stay? Until you find his other family?” Tommy asked the man, his badge showing his name as Amir.

Amir frowned, looking back at Daniel and then at him- clearly this was first for the med team. ���Okay, but just till we reached the next of kin. I don’t need to traumatize this kid twice over.”

Tommy nodded and rushed back to his team, “Tell the Cap that I’m sorry, I’ll try to head back once they call in his family.”

Lucy, Milton, and Ashara all glanced at each other, the same worried expression passing over their features. Lucy was the first to step up, “Keep us posted? I’ll pick you up if the Cap is cool with it.”

Tommy thanked and rushed off, promising his teammates that he would keep them posted if anything happened.

-

Three hours later Tommy was softly humming to a now calm Daniel.

The boy had been panicky whenever someone dared to even come close. Fortunately the doctors were able to confirm that Daniel was fine- he had to wear a cast on his arm and had to get a few stiches on his forehead and shoulder, but he was fine. In the appropriate weight and height class for his age, no signs of physical abuse that would make his doctor or social worker, Claudia, worried.

“I can’t imagine what he witnessed on that trail.” Claudia sighed, watching as Tommy fed the little boy a cup of mac and cheese.

“I don’t think we want to.” Tommy had seen the parents- those two had to be in critical care by now. He wasn’t sure if they would make it, but he hoped they did and hoped that their family would show support. Those two needed their family to help, especially with explaining to Daniel why he more than likely wouldn’t be seeing his parents for some time.

Claudia smiled, Daniel was adorably enjoying being fed while Tommy made ‘plane noises’ “I feel like he has you wrapped around his finger now.” She teased.

Tommy laughed, he couldn’t deny it really, “You try looking into those eyes and telling the kid no.” he joked, going back to feeding Daniel once the toddler started asking for “Plane?” again.

A part of him wasn’t surprised, he had a niece and nephew that he adored and spoiled. His sister Sarah and her husband Chet (short for Chetachukwu), lived in Napa and were not always too thrilled when Uncle TomTom came to visit because that meant things like…a built from scratch swing set or a treehouse (with furniture, “Because it has to have furniture Sarah!”).

He never pictured himself having kids…

No, he wasn’t going to go there, especially right now.

“He is adorable.” Claudia cooed, “I’m glad he has you right now, unfortunately we can’t always have someone sit for the kids who don’t have their parents or family when they come in.”

Tommy nodded, knowing this was the case with patients he had had brought in before, “Any luck with contacting the next of kin?”

Claudia shook her head ‘no’, “No luck, we’re still trying though.” She promised.

Tommy looked at his watch, it was nearing the end of his shift soon and so far he had only gotten a few messages from his team, particularly Lucy and Milton who had confirmed that the Captain was good with him staying with Daniel and a reminder for Tommy to message either of them when he was ready to head back. “Take your time.” He told her, “I’ve got nowhere to be for now.”

Tommy tried not to wince, knowing how depressed he sounded at that last part.

A few hours later Tommy and Daniel were emersed in a Bluey marathon on Tommy’s phone, sharing a cup of grapes and a bottle of apple juice.

‘In all honestly, not the worst way to spend a Friday night post-breakup.’ Tommy thought, the kid seemed to be distracted enough that he even was giggling and smiling at some parts of the show, which was a relief for Tommy.

The door opened, revealing Claudia and a older looking woman. “Mr. Kinard?” the older woman addressed him, “I’m Anita Hernandez, I’m the supervising social worker for the pediatric unit.” She explained,

Tommy could feel his stomach drop, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Anita sighed, looking at now nervous Claudia. “I wanted to introduce myself because one, I want to thank you so much for staying with Daniel throughout all this. My understanding is that you’re the one that saved him?”

Tommy shrugged, not liking the attention that he gets from his job, “It was a team effort.” He mumbled. “Well, either way it’s clear that Daniel is very attached to you. Which is why I thought it would be better to ask you, are you in any way interested in becoming the emergency foster parent for Daniel?”

Tommy froze, unsure at who to look at first as he tried to process the request. “What? I-What about his family? The parents didn’t have anyone?”

Claudia shook her head ‘no’, “Unfortunately the father had a fallout with his family a couple of years of ago and they don’t have any interest in taking care of Daniel and the mother’s side seems to be either too far or not physically able to care for Daniel- even temporarily.” She explained, “We know it’s a lot to ask, but considering how bonded Daniel seems to be with you, if you or anyone you know are willing to become an emergency placement then we can-”

“I’ll do it.”  

[holographicprojector]

THE DEAD KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING WHEN THEY LEAVE THIS WORLD BEHIND

Chapter 3 is out!

they are not amused. flashback chapter! Canon divergence where they go through elementary and middle school together. No memory-wiping or time travel and lots of *trauma*

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65546560/chapters/170170282

PARACOSMS - 9779 words

Shun massages his neck as he opens the door to the laboratory, lit up only by Kuusuke's many screens and surgical spotlight. The thick clacks of the professor's linear keyboard switches fill the classroom. 

"Do you have them?" The flat voice asks, not bothering to turn and look at him. 

Shun stares at Kusuo's body lying beneath the spotlight. "I'm sorry."

Kuusuke lets out a long sigh as he gets up to change the large blood bags. "I found myself unable to do so as well."

There is a silence as the professor pulls out another gallon of O negative and hooks it on the IV pole. He feels the other bag of congealed blood extracted from the cadaver before discarding it. There are a multitude of holes drilled into Kusuo's arms and legs, allowing blood transfusion in and out of the bone marrow, leftovers from his time in the mansion. His brother eyes them guiltily as he inserts a needle into one. 

"I think my little brother's death has instilled into me a value that I didn't have before, that life is precious. I thought something was wrong with me when I was standing over an unconscious stranger and finding myself unable to open him up, but that is the right reaction to have, it turns out." Kuusuke glances at Shun. "That is a problem. I will have to unlearn that. There's no telling what I may do to you if that happens."

"Me? Why me, specifically?" Shun asks without thinking. 

Kuusuke turns to stare at him. "You're the one that Kusuo cares about most. Since I have you living here, that's good leverage to exploit his primary weakness to get something I may want from him."

"And what might you want from him?"

He goes silent for a moment, averting his gaze, then murmurs. "I don't know anymore. I just want him to love me."

Shun keeps his expression free of judgment. "In a Mugami way or a family way?"

Kuusuke lets out an amused scoff before going serious again. "Familial. I... I already... I already tried—" the professor's head shoots up as he cuts himself off, and he points at Shun. "That demeanor you have isn't uncontrollable, is it?"

Shun furrows a brow, confused. "What?"

His eyes widen with excitement. "That's how you got my little brother to like you so much! The way you feign innocence— it's impossible to say no to you!"

"Hm? Do you think I'm trying to manipulate you?" Shun crosses his bandaged arms, but his face remains neutral. "It's reasonable to think so."

"Of course it's reasonable if I'm thinking it," Kuusuke mumbles.

"I don't just want to help you, I want to get to know you better. It's not like I'm doing so maliciously, and it's not like I'm *not* innocent when nobody's looking. I couldn't get the organs, and neither could you."

"You're purposefully speaking in a way I fully understand."

"Some call it an *explanation*."

Kuusuke makes a strange noise, caught off guard. "You're snarking me how I'd usually snark people!"

"And I think you can't fathom someone wanting to be your friend, so you're trying to rationalize it away."

"You are not a psychiatrist!"

"Maybe not, but I know how you people think!" Shun drifts closer as the conversation goes on.

Kuusuke takes a step back. "What do you mean by 'you people'?"

"You Saikis think similarly. You do a bunch of shitty things and then you lean into being wholly unlikable in order to isolate yourselves and be miserable forever because you think you deserve it. Eventually, you come across someone who sees through it and your brain breaks."

"I'm trying not to..." Kuusuke trails off, shrinking away.

See? Broken. Shun gives him a nervous smile in spite of his cool tone. "And that's admirable. It takes more than just over a year in some cobbled together rehab program to unlearn that. You're putting in the extra work."

"You're dangerous." The man straightens himself up and fails to plaster his usual smirk on his face. "You very nearly made me disclose a secret I'd take to my grave."

"It's a shame I didn't hear it." Shun runs a hand through his hair, backing off. He can infer it easily, anyhow. He doesn't want to hear more. "How's the extraction going?"

"There's a part I've saved for last." Kuusuke hesitates. "I thought you should be the one to do it."

"Why?"

"Stop it with the 'why's and 'what's and 'how's!" The professor catches himself yelling and pinches his nose bridge, composing himself. "Since you're his significant other—"

Shun scoffs. "What are we, married?"

The man glares at him. "Your organs are looking more and more enticing."

"Excuse me, sir," Shun murmurs, straightening up and giving him a short bow. As much as being implanted into Kusuo seems cool, his insides should remain his. 

Kuusuke hands him an IV needle. "Since he was left face down, rigor mortis has likely collected in his... crotch area."

Shun glances at the area in question, hidden by a loose hospital gown, and swallows. "Right. And why can't you do this? I feel like family would be more appropriate."

"Stop questioning me," Kuusuke says quickly. "You do it. It shouldn't be a problem for you; you're  *into* him, right? That means that this should be normal, to my knowledge."

"Not when he's dead. That's, uh, weird." Shun narrows his eyes, coming to a realization. "Do you think we've had sex?"

Kuusuke looks just as confused as he is. "Isn't that the point of a homosexual relationship?"

"No!" Shun exclaims, offended. "Okay, you do it."

The man takes several steps back. "Absolutely not!"

"I don't want him to live with the fact that I've seen it without him consciously showing it to me!"

Kuusuke shakes his head vigorously. "Absolutely not! I have my reasons!"

"What, is it your 'secret'?"

"Don't be so careless," Kuusuke says behind gritted teeth. "Must you be reminded of what I can do?"

Shun gulps. "I'll do it, I'll do it."

Kuusuke walks back up to the bedside as Shun lifts the gown, exposing the area to the spotlight, and Shun immediately feels his cheeks go red. He doesn't know what he expected, with those aforementioned grade school rumors, but it's unremarkable. Just average; clotted blood staining it an unnaturally deep red, a stark contrast to the pale gray of his bloodless skin. But he imagines him alive and breathing for a brief moment, and Shun knows he has to look away. He glances up at the professor, and they make eye contact, both of their blushes deepening with embarrassment.

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" they yell in unison, pointing at each other.

-

Shun is hastier than usual to get out of the laboratory, flustered from his singular task. That's enough for him today.

"Greetings, Saiki Kusuo's friend."

Shun startles at the strange voice suddenly addressing him and recognizes it as Akechi's. He swivels, meeting the blonde boy's unblinking gaze. "H-hello?"

"What were you doing in there? The students said that the lab was out of commission. Are you using it for something? What are you using it for? Are you hiding something important? An experiment? Are you conducting experimentation on living specimens with the help of the biology professor? I know that he's Kusuo's brother, by the way. I've met him before. He was very peculiar."

"How do you—" Useless question. They were friends in grade school, of course they've seen each other's homes and the people in them. "Me and the professor just have a private tutoring session in there every day."

Akechi leans closer to him, and Shun leans away. "You seem flustered. Are you telling the truth? There are many reasons for one to be flustered. Was the professor coming onto you? You report that, if so. Those are very serious allegations. People in positions of authority should maintain professionalism at all times with their subordinates. It can get complicated very quickly, I know that."

"Gross!" Shun physically recoils at the very thought, walking backward, away from the letter soup spewing all over him. It's overwhelming. He can't keep up and respond accordingly. "I-I'm not lying!"

"Your delivery sounds suspicious to me. Is it wrong for me to conclude that you are in fact doing illegal experiments in there with the biology professor? Possibly government-affiliated?"

"Yes! Yes, absolutely! Nothing goes on in there!"

"But you just told me you do private tutoring lessons in there with the professor. Just how much are you fibbing? I demand to see what is in there at once. I heard you referring to the specimen as the professor's brother. Am I correct in deducing that it is Kusuo?"

"Nope! Super wrong!" Shun lets out a nervous chuckle. "Try again, buddy!"

"Talking to you is like talking to a brick wall," Akechi remarks. "Why would the professor keep you around? He detests monkeys and those just as intelligent as them."

"It's hard not to get defensive when you've just walked up to me like this! How did you even get in here?" He has to slow this down to single sentences or something.

"Somebody let me in." Akechi backs away. "I see. I am being overbearing. Allow me to change directions. Ahem. I am sorry. I assumed that you would have as many questions for me as I have for you regarding Kusuo. We were both his closest friends at different stages of his life."

Shun nods along. "Right. He doesn't like to talk about his childhood, so it would make sense for you to think that."

That's right. Speak his language. Akechi smiles at the detailed summary. "You understand me. People would have usually left by now."

Leaving is an option? Shun leans against the wall, showing his willingness to stay and listen, and he watches as Akechi interprets the gesture's meaning. The boy is positively glowing at the prospect.

"Since we have established an understanding of each other, I would like you to be honest with me. Is Kusuo in that laboratory? If so, I would very much like to help."

"Can you get fresh organs?" Shun asks offhandedly. He can pass it off as a joke if need be.

"To save Kusuo? Definitely." Akechi averts his wide eyes, planning it out. "I would need to do it to a stranger while they are sleeping. I would need something to knock them out, a scalpel, an insulated container, and metal clips. I do not need anything else because I do not particularly care about the stranger's life over Kusuo's. He may bleed out and die."

"I don't need the details." Shun says it too late, and he crosses his arms, looking away. "Okay. Yeah, we're trying to resurrect him."

"How can you do that if he's been dead for so long? Was I correct in my speculation about him having psionic abilities? That would be most exciting."

"I mean, how else could you explain the brain act... ivity." Shun trails off only to find himself in the middle of another admission. Damn. This boy is running circles around him. Akechi beams with the excitement he mentioned earlier, and Shun scoffs. "T-this is unfair! You slip up and say something you don't mean to."

"I say everything that I am thinking, therefore I do not 'mean' to say anything." Akechi leans against the red wall next to him. "However, I do have things that I have kept to myself due to virtue of them never being brought up again. I do not even think about them. I think it is a defense mechanism."

How can an open book be so enigmatic? "How did you know that Kusuo had powers?"

Akechi gasps. "A question! I will answer thoroughly! You see, I was bullied when I was very young, about six, for obvious reasons. I'm sure you can infer them, for I speculate that you were bullied as well. You give off that energy."

Shun furrows a brow but does not say anything.

"I was— no, I shouldn't start there. My suspicions first started when I found myself suddenly healed from a beating I was taking from a couple of my peers. I thought that Kusuo did it because he dropped his name tag next to me. After that, that same peer spun around on the horizontal bar so fast that he burned his crotch. Even at that age, I knew of the laws of physics preventing that from happening, so I attributed it to Kusuo, since I had already suspected him as a magic user. I found myself trying to befriend him."

-

Second grade.

"Hey, Kusuo, did you do the homework? I didn't know what to make." Touma leans on Kusuo's desk, smiling down at the pink-haired boy. He gives him an uncaring look, and Touma takes a step back. "Don't make that face, you're making me feel bad. What's that trash you have in your hand?"

Kusuo glances at him, then his creation with a mean look, and Touma scrambles to fix it. "Oh! It's a robot! It's really good. It's— sorry."

A fond smile. Touma's gaze rests on it for a second before he extracts his own creation from his bag. "I just made a—"

The makeshift house is slapped out of his hands and crushed in one swift motion. Touma kneels to pick it up, only to be punched in the back of his shoulder by a spiky-haired boy, Takashi. "That's what happens, pant pisser."

His entire bicep aches with the blow, and he winces he stands, home resting limply at his side, reminescient of a crushed can. His attention slowly fades back to Kusuo, who is staring blankly in the other direction. Why hasn't he done anything back to them, like last time? Does he even notice anymore? Has it... really become that frequent that even his best friend has grown bored of it? Touma shuffles back to Kusuo's desk with a handful of popsicle sticks and glue. "Do you want to help me fix it, Kusuo?"

The boy seems to snap back to reality upon Touma asking him the question. He tries to make it subtle whenever he does this, but it is difficult to ease the mind from nothing to everything. These trances are common, coming into effect whenever he's bored or uncomfortable. Touma doesn't loathe him for it or anything. It probably isn't within his abilities to control that. 

Kusuo even ends up adding some nice extra details to the simple structure. A door and a window with shutters. Some fence posts. It turns out looking better than before a devastating natural disaster came its way. Touma cracks a grin at him as he turns in the project, and Kusuo contorts his typically neutral face into a smile for him. It doesn't even matter whether he has a secret or not, at this point. He's a good friend.

"Watch where you're going." Takashi sneers as he bumps into Touma's shoulder in the hallway, causing him to drop the basket of glass beakers he was carrying for the teacher. The shards shoot out in one direction in particular, at the pink-haired boy in front of him, helping with the errand. Touma watches in horror as they pierce Kusuo's legs, causing him to stumble, but he catches himself. Thank goodness.

The relief doesn't last long. As the blood begins to drip down Kusuo's legs and seep into his socks, Touma sees red. 

"Violence must be met with violence!" He yells as he throws his entire body with the right hook he sends to Takashi's smug face. For a moment, his hand is hurt more than Takashi appears to be by the punch, but it ends up sending him flying backwards with a force Touma didn't know he was capable of producing. Fire Crotch stumbles for a good thirty meters, looking for balance, before finally falling flat on his dumb face. Touma beams, turning back toward Kusuo, who seems unfazed by the shards embedded in his legs.

"I did it! I beat Fire Crotch!" Touma exclaims, still grinning from ear to ear. His smile seems to be contagious, because Kusuo gives him that fond look again, filling Touma with an inexplicable happiness, greater than any other he has ever felt. He doesn't know what to do with this catharsis other than hug the boy that made it possible.

Kusuo makes a surprised grunt, tensing up before stiffly wrapping his arms around Touma.

-

Third grade.

"Hm? Kusuo, how did you get hurt like that?" Touma finds him hiding behind a bush during recess. He's grown more distant as of late, to the point of actually avoiding him. Kusuo shrinks into the leaves behind him, hugging his knees. His forearms are covered in sloppily applied bandaids. Touma's immediate instinct is to lean closer, but he does the opposite, taking a step back. Kusuo likes his personal space, he's noticed. The pink-haired boy's stare follows him as he sits down on the grass, a good meter away. "I like your new glasses. They look cool."

Kusuo averts his eyes beneath those verdant lenses, hiding his face behind his knees. Touma shifts closer. "Did you clean them before putting the bandaids on them? They can get infected, and that would be really bad if that happened to you. You'd get hurt badly."

He's got the eye bags of an overworked salaryman. He can only somewhat see the discoloration of his face through the violently green, skintight lenses. His calves are noticeably thinner and bruised. Touma can't keep the concerned look off of his face. "Did something happen over summer break?"

He gets the feeling that Kusuo wants to shake his head, but something obviously did happen. He's turned from squeaky clean to unkempt and disheveled in the span of a couple months. "Are your mother and father okay?"

Kusuo shakes his head, and Touma flashes an understanding smile. "I'm sure it'll be fine! When I lost my dad, I struggled for a while, but I got used to it! Do you need help with laundry or taking a shower or cooking? I can show you how!"

Kusuo shakes his head again. That's not it. They're both alive and well. So... "They're mistreating you, then."

Touma finds himself sitting right next to Kusuo, who glances at him before going back to staring at nothing. "That isn't right."

Another head shake, and Touma narrows his eyes at it. "You disagree? Why? It's objectively wrong for them to leave you this way."

Kusuo shoots him a guilty look, causing Touma to scoff in response. "Nothing would justify this, not even burning the house down. I mean—"

"Wo ... r ... se." Kusuo focuses hard on the word as he says it, stuttering badly. 

Touma lays a hand on his shoulder. "You can't even speak coherently. This is wrong; it doesn't matter if what you did was worse than burning the house down."

Kusuo involuntarily flinches away from the touch, and Touma immediately understands its meaning, wide-eyed with his realization. "They're bullying you. Kusuo..."

The boy in front of him is shaking his head vigorously, pointing at himself. "De ... s ... er ... ve."

"You think you deserve it?" Touma sniffles, wiping his face as Kusuo nods with a look of relief on his face. Relief? *Relief*? Does he honestly think that he would agree? "No. No, no, no. Kusuo, who told you that? Who has drilled that into you? They're lying. You saved me, more than once. You're my best friend for a good reason."

Touma forces Kusuo to look at him, hands on both of his shoulders. The boy struggles to form words, seeming frustrated at his own inability to speak. Touma nods along as he stammers, repeating them as he speaks. "They ... know ... me ... better. They ... know ... what ... I ... did."

Touma subconsciously rubs Kusuo's tense shoulders, fidgeting under the unrelenting stress of the conversation. "Kusuo. Kusuo, that doesn't make it right. Listen, listen to me. It doesn't matter if you've even killed someone or killed a billion, this isn't right. Yet more suffering doesn't make up for it. Okay? Let me help you."

Kusuo mutters a shaky response, and Touma parrots it. "Don't ... help ... please ... stop ... caring— I can't just do that! Not when you're the only person who'd eat lunch with me; not when you're the only person who still *cares* about *me*. Don't you see how wrong it is for me not to reciprocate, Kusuo?"

He nods. "I ... don't ... care ... about ... you."

Touma goes silent for a moment, eyes wide. "You're just saying that. There isn't any way you mean that. Everything you've done contradicts—"

Touma's yell is suppressed by a squeeze of his windpipe as Kusuo shoves him into the bush, protruding branches sticking into his skin and scalp, scratching him up as he flails under the strong grip forcing him down. The sharp stubs of trimmed twigs poke him through his shirt, and Touma holds Kusuo's arms, gentle.

"Don't do this to yourself," he manages to choke out. He's trying to *make* him stop caring. Touma's vision blurs as he feels the oxygen fade from his brain. He doesn't get bullied anymore because of the way Kusuo strengthens him. It's only fair to return the favor. It isn't different. He doesn't deserve this, not even a little. He's a good person, he's a good person, Touma thinks as he closes his eyes.

Kusuo suddenly releases him from his grasp, breathing heavily as he shuffles away, back against the fence. Touma coughs, holding his neck, massaging the red imprints upon it. The very act of inhaling and exhaling burns as his trachea slowly recovers from the damage. He struggles to sit up, leaves sticking out of his blonde hair, and he focuses on Kusuo, away from the agony pricking at every nerve in his upper body.

The boy is curled back up behind another bush, trembling, and Touma crawls over, wincing as his sensitive palms push against the rough ground. His voice is raspy. "Are you okay?"

Kusuo flashes him a devastated look. "St ... op!"

Touma furrows a brow, confused. "Stop what? What have I done? Have I done something bad?"

Kusuo shakes his head, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I ... hurt ... you. Not ... the ... other ... way."

"I see. I'm acting as if I've hurt you instead of the other way around." He hesitates to place a hand on Kusuo's knee. "I don't want you to feel bad. You're not thinking straight, and that is obvious. What happened just now doesn't change my opinion of you at all. It would be scummy of me to kick you while you're down. I really do think you're decent, Kusuo."

Kusuo gives him another guilty look. "I ... can't ... kill ... you. All ... I ... can ... do ... is ... kill. I'm ... useless."

"Well, isn't that a good thing?" Touma counters. "If killing is the source of this regret, it's good thing you can't do it anymore. Besides, people shouldn't be used. That's immoral, that's inhumane."

"In ... hu ... mane?"

"Yes! It comes from the Latin 'inhumanus', meaning cruel, not human. What humans have that animals lack is the ability to perform acts of kindness at the expense of themselves without expecting anything in return. To perform acts of cruelty without good reason is the antithesis of that. Ergo, not human."

"That's ... why ... you're ... helping." Kusuo leans his head on Touma's shoulder, and he startles a bit, not expecting it. "I ... wish ... more ... people ... were ... human."

-

Fourth grade.

The front door to the Saiki home is more imposing than he anticipated. It looms over him, painted a plain white, no side windows to glance through. He has no idea what awaits him on the other side. It could be clean, like usual, the scent of cleaning agent fresh in the air. It could be a pigsty, trash bags stacked on top of each other at the entrance, crumbs scattered across the floor, muddy footprints and inexplicable sticky spots making him wish he kept his shoes on. Touma stands on his tippy toes to ring the doorbell, adjusting his backpack as he waits.

There is a sudden burst of frantic footsteps. They weren't expecting him. A lighter set comes scurrying toward the door, opening it slightly and stepping outside with an almost unnoticeable smile.

"Kusuo!" Touma throws his arms around him, and Kusuo returns the hug in his usual stiff manner. He makes sure to keep it brief, withdrawing as he lets his hands slide down to Kusuo's. "I haven't seen you in so long! I missed you, I really did. I just hope we get put back in the same class again. I like your new hair clips!"

They sort of look like antennas with inflated spheres at the ends, seeming not to hold back any hair at all. But Kusuo's blush is more distracting than the strange devices. Touma beams. He does that at any compliment, like he's embarrassed of being something to remark about, but Touma likes to see him happy. "How have you been?"

Kusuo shrugs, making a so-so gesture. He seems more attentive than usual, observing Touma's face and clothes like he's seeing them for the first time, so Touma decides to do the same. Something catches his attention, and he leans to the side for a closer look. "There's something in your hair. Is it ketchup? Your hair clip is blocking it. Here, let me get it."

Kusuo's hand shoots to grab his forearm, holding it in place with a dangerous look, and Touma gives him an apologetic grin. "Never remove that? Okay, sorry. Sorry."

He nods, the fond smile returning to his face, but it quickly disappears when his mother opens the front door. "Hi, Little Ku's friend! What's your name?"

"My name is Asumi Touma!" He responds quickly. Kusuo lets go of his hand as he steps forward. This woman, she looks so kind, but he knows her true, corrupt colors. She must be dealt with! Before he can confront her, though, Kusuo pushes him inside. Oh, thank goodness, it's the former. Nice and clean.

His mother giggles like a schoolgirl. "You're really eager, Little Ku! You know where the games are!"

Kusuo leads him to a large set of cabinets beside the television where, upon opened, an uncountable amount of board games lie stacked up to the ceiling of every shelf, some in completely different languages! The boy glances at him through his green glasses, implying that it's his pick. The choices are overwhelming. He spots a checkerboard box and extracts it. Chess. A classic among the wacky boxes filled with way too many colors and rules. He looks a bit disappointed at the decision. Touma supposes that it is, in fact, a bit boring compared to everything else in the cabinet.

"That's *our* game, baby brother. Are you going to play it with him?" They both startle at a drawl coming from the hallway.

"Hello! You must be Kusuo's brother!" Touma exclaims, waving his greetings. The brother doesn't react, continuing to lean against the wall with a smug look. Strange, it must run in the family or something. And Kusuo never mentioned having a brother. It never came up, Touma supposes. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"

The brother scrunches his nose. "Stop speaking to me, monkey. Can't you see that I am not interested in conversing with you? Of course not, a sheep like you just parrots what he has been taught to say in this backwards society."

"Spoilsport," Touma mutters as he kneels at the coffee table. He opens the box to see little circular pieces accompanying the pawns. "We can also just play checkers. Ooh, pen and paper!"

He hands the writing utensils to Kusuo, who grabs them as soon as they hit the table, jotting something down and sliding it to Touma. It reads: "We should play chess to bother him."

Touma narrows his eyes at Kusuo. "Really? He seems scary."

"He is. That's why we should do it."

Touma glances at the blonde watching them. "I don't want him to hurt you or something. That would be bad. You wouldn't like that."

Kusuo moves his king side pawn two spaces forward, and his brother walks over to watch them play.

As the game goes on, Touma focuses less on the board as more on reactions of the two Saiki boys in front of him. Every time Kusuo makes a blunder, he glances at his brother with a smirk, but the older doesn't smirk back. No, his older brother seems to grow more and more infuriated as the pieces move before his eyes in a way he cannot comprehend, until Touma checkmates Kusuo for moving his king into a corner without an escape plan, blocked by his own pawns.

"You need to *leave*," the brother says, voice shaking with attempted modulation. "Kusuo, show him out."

Kusuo shakes his head, causing his brother to grab his shirt collar, only to glance at Touma and let go of it. "I see. You're keeping him here to cover for yourself. He has to leave eventually, do you know that? And the longer you keep him here, the angrier I get. To the point where I wouldn't even use an 'experiment' as cover. So, show our guest out."

He shakes his head again, and his brother grabs his hair, dragging him to his feet. Touma watches with wide eyes as Kusuo smiles through it, not struggling against him or anything. The brother whispers. "No! Why would I take him as well?! It's supposed to be shameful, you buffoon, like your powers!"

Powers? Kusuo glances at Touma then back at his brother, smile disappearing from his face. He shoves his brother off of him, and they've traded expressions. "Ah, did he hear me? Oops!"

"Hey! Why are we doing that in front of a guest?" The father calls from the kitchen. "Kusuo, keep your hands off of Kuusuke! Stop starting things, for God's sake."

"He didn't start it though!" Touma retorts, standing as well.

Kuusuke grabs the paper from the coffee table, waving it around. "Explain this, then! 'We should play chess to bother him.' He played this with you for the express purpose of eliciting this reaction out of me, then pretends he doesn't want it when I give it to him. You may want to watch for this sort of manipulation when you're alone with him, I won't be here to call it out."

Kusuo suddenly tackles him into the cabinet nearby, holding his head in place before shutting the cabinet door in on his neck with such force that it shoves the furniture into the wall behind it. Kuusuke flails against the door, unable to make a sound other than choking.

"KUSUO!" The father calls as Touma rushes over. The brother's head falls in an attempt to make an escape, and the corner of the door begins to press on his neck, drawing blood.

Touma tries to pull him away by his arm. "Kusuo! Stop! Please!"

He does so, panting. He gives his brother a hateful look before turning back to Touma, expression softening. "Don't... don't look at me like that! You nearly killed him! How can you smile?! He's bleeding!"

"I'm ... sorry." Kusuo grows guilty at the realization. "I ... thought ... you ... wanted ... to?"

"There are thoughts you don't act upon specifically to avoid these circumstances!" Touma gestures to Kuusuke as he struggles to breathe, his mother pressing a cold towel to his neck. Who does this to their own brother?! A monster! Some demon is standing in front of him at this very moment, feigning confusion! "Surely, you have those as well."

Kusuo nods, and Touma sighs. "This should've been one of them. Farewell."

"Fare ... well?" Kusuo mutters, looking up from his shoes as Touma leaves him, nearly sprinting out of the home.

"Poor Kusuo," his brother says raspily. "You never know what people want from you. Tch, *somehow*."

-

Fifth grade.

A walk in the park! Touma takes a deep breath of the fresh summer breeze, the bottoms of his shoes smacking against the pavement. He's got a pep in his step, an oboe in his elbow! School's out, and he's carefree! He likes to go for a stroll before running his errands. He checks the grocery list again as he strides into the green zone, glancing upward. Ooh, he should add ice cream to the list. A truck is parked under a tree, playing a familiar tune as the man inside hands out his waffle cones to the various children celebrating their temporary release.

A peculiar-looking blonde sits on a bench, sticking out among the dark-haired crowd. Touma looks closer. That's Kusuo's brother. He doesn't strike him as the type to just sit on a bench surrounded by the people he despises.

"Thank you!" Touma calls to the man in the truck, jumping up to claim his ice cream, but he nearly drops it upon seeing the blonde in line behind him. "Oh! You startled me a bit!"

Kuusuke blinks down at him, expressionless. "I tend to have that effect, Kusuo's *former* friend."

"Akechi Touma."

"I didn't ask for your name." Kuusuke stuffs his wallet in his back pocket before taking two cones of ice cream. Touma quirks his brow at the plurality. 

"Did you bring someone?" Touma asks, glancing around the park.

"You're smart for a chimp." Kuusuke points at a tree. "I'm letting my baby brother out for his birthday."

The boy in question is just sitting against the tree trunk, staring at the sky. "He looks like he's having fun."

Touma tries to say it in a sarcastic tone, and Kuusuke scoffs. "He's probably cathartic at the prospect of being left alone for a while."

"Does that mean I shouldn't go talk to him?" Touma slouches as he licks his chocolate ice cream.

"Most likely." Kuusuke takes a large bite out of each cone. "Mm. It tastes better when you've got it in both hands."

Touma narrows his eyes. "Was one of them not for Kusuo?"

Kuusuke seems confused at the ludicrous question. "Of course not. I paid for them, after all. With my own money."

"Hm. Usually, you give someone a gift for their birthday."

"Someone like Kusuo doesn't care about gifts," Kuusuke says dismissively. "He doesn't care what anyone does to him, so long as he gets to be alone for a while. And it's not like he's doing anything to deserve a reward right now."

"Oh, Pavlovian conditioning?" He says it without thinking.

Kuusuke glances at him, trying to hide his surprise. "Where did a grubby child learn such big words? Yes, that's exactly what I'm trying to do. It takes a great deal of discipline. I'm getting closer, though."

Touma takes a bite out of his waffle cone, having exhausted the exposed ice cream. "How is he responding?"

"Better than expected. He's grown very tolerant. I think he's forcing himself to enjoy it; I didn't anticipate that."

"And what is this 'it' you keep alluding to?" It's starting to sound more and more supervillain-esque. 

Kuusuke throws both ends of the cones into his mouth, crunching loudly. He gives Touma a suspicious look. "You have enough clues."

-

Sixth grade.

Be careful what you wish for...

Touma's eyes widen as he sees Kusuo sat in the center of the classroom, and they meet eyes before turning away from each other, acting as if they haven't noticed. 

"Akechi, you're sat behind Saiki there," the teacher says from the desk, looking at her binder. He'd rather be sat behind Takashi than that spawn of Satan.

They sit in silence until lunch, when they're the only ones left in the classroom. Kusuo places a sticky note on Touma's desk, and he reads it as he eats. "I miss you."

Aw, that's cute. A demon wouldn't say that. Wait just a second, they would! It's that manipulation his brother was talking about! He has to watch out for it. Touma crumples up the note and tosses it behind him, not wanting anything to do with it. He has to keep his mouth shut, too. They're not talking; they're not supposed to be talking.

Hasn't two years been a bit too long? Stop that! Talking to him is a trap! Kusuo gets up to retrieve his discarded note, unraveling it only to find no response. He sits back down and passes it to him again, with new writing. "Do you despise me?"

No, of course not! You saved my life, stopped me from being bullied! You're great! Yes, of course I despise him! He bullies his brother, not the other way around. It's a ruse. That day behind the bushes was a trick! He even tried to kill me! But he didn't. Someone told him that was all he was good for; it isn't his fault. Something new has been written on the note. "My brother lies a lot. I believe him. Do you?"

Touma's head goes silent at that. "Why do you believe him?"

"I deserve to be to told such things and internalize them. It adds more contradiction to my existence; it obscures the perception of myself until I can't recognize it. That is more torturous than anything he can do to me."

Even though he only half understands the words jotted down in front of him, something in Touma cracks, and he gets up to pull Kusuo out of his chair and into an embrace. He shouldn't have been able to do that so easily; he shouldn't be so light. Kusuo doesn't return the hug in his usual stiff manner. No, he grips the back of Touma's shirt as if he's been starved of it for as long as they've avoided each other. The desperation surprises him a bit, but he welcomes it, rubbing circles into Kusuo's back. Kusuo sniffles, holding him tighter. "I ... miss ... you ... and ... I ... can't ... tell ... you."

"Tell me what?" Touma murmurs, still in shock.

"What ... he ... does. What ... his ... lies ... are."

Touma strokes the back of Kusuo's hair, and the boy relaxes into him. "It's okay. It probably won't be for a long time, but it'll happen eventually. Things will work out. You have to believe that, or there's no point in pushing on. So, it'll be alright. It's not your fault that things just aren't right now. It's just misfortune. God likes to see people suffer. He isn't the benevolent being that scripture makes Him out to be."

Kusuo begins to shift uncomfortably. "Asumi? No— Akechi?"

"Touma," he corrects, breaking away slightly to see Kusuo staring downward.

"Touma. I ... think." Kusuo glances up at his concerned face. "I ... love ... you."

"Like a brother, right?" He says quickly. Kusuo nods, and Touma lets out a sigh of relief, holding his arms. "That's good. I've always wanted a brother. It wouldn't just be me doing the housework otherwise. I'm not expecting you to do housework in a house that isn't yours, though. That would be a bit mean. But brothers take care of each other, and I like taking care of you. I missed you, too, Kusuo."

"You're ... not ... touching ... me?" Kusuo mumbles. 

"Why would I—" Touma glances downward, and he takes several steps backward, taking care not to shove Kusuo off of him. "Ah, hands off! The brother thing was a lie, then!"

Kusuo quirks his brow, confused. That's not a good sign, and Touma immediately intuits what it means. He's associating brotherly love with sexual attraction. "Brothers ... take ... care ... of ... each ... other. Kuusuke ... says ... the ... same. And ... this ... is ... what ... he—"

"Shut up!" Touma interrupts. "That's not how it's supposed to work! I don't want to hear more about how your brother is molesting you! You're not supposed to feel that way about each other! He's lying, like you said! He's a... a liar."

And Touma took his advice. He let him have Kusuo for two years, all to himself, and this is the result. He should've been there, he should've been there... he abandoned his best friend just because he roughed up his abuser a bit. He should've known, he should've trusted Kusuo had a better motive to tackle him. Damn it, he should've known what 'it' meant! What else was he given deductive reasoning for?!

"I'm ... not ... molested. It ... makes ... sense." Why is he trying to argue? Damn it, Kuusuke. Damn it. It's such a basic fact that he doesn't know how to argue it. "Who ... else ... is ... going ... to?"

"You're just supposed to let the feeling pass." This is tough. He's never been attracted to someone else before, let alone had someone else attracted to him. Aren't they a bit young for that? Kusuo seems even more confused now.

"Then ... it ... breaks. That's ... why ... he ... makes ... me—"

"Shhhh!" Touma interrupts him again, wanting to preserve his relative innocence. That and recounting those events would probably cause a breakdown despite Kusuo's matter-of-fact demeanor. "False. Just false. Open up a health science book some time."

"Okay." Kusuo retreats further into himself as the conversation goes on, crossing his arms. He's embarrassed, acutely aware of the obscenity he speaks of. "He ... says ... there's ... no ... reason ... for ... a ... homosexual ... incestuous ... relationship ... to ... be ... shunned." Touma grips the edges of the desk he's leaning against as the explanation continues. How many times has this argument been made to him that he has memorized it, rattling it off as if he's been trained to do so? "Incest ... is ... immoral ... due to ... the ... genetic ... conditions ... it ... produces. Since ... there ... are ... no ... offspring ... produced ... in ... a ... homosexual ... relationship ... it ... is ... not ... morally ... incorrect."

Touma grits his teeth. That brother is psychotic and needs to seek professional help, and his lazy-ass parents need to straighten him out. There's something wrong with that reasoning, but he can't put his finger on it. He only knows the proper conclusion. That classical conditioning— it's why Kusuo was confused at the fact that he wasn't being touched. Whenever he hugs his brother, he... he... 

Touma massages his own shoulder, which has become tense with stress.  Don't deduce that filth. He doesn't need to know exactly what happens, just that sweets are the positive reinforcement. That's what his brother referred to that ice cream as. "I suppose the question here is whether you actually want it or not. Pretend there's no reward."

He only responds that way because he knows the answer. Kusuo shakes his head vigorously, sweating, nervous. "I'm ... sorry. You ... shouldn't ... have ... to—"

"Sh." Touma says it more gently this time, patting Kusuo's head. "If I didn't want to hear about it, I would've shut you up. In fact, I think it's good that you told me all of this. It explains a lot. It can't have been easy for you, and I'm glad you confided in me. I like you, Kusuo. I mean, so long as you don't diddle me." 

It explains a bit too much. His inexpressiveness, his difficulty communicating. It's a trauma response to the so-called 'experiments' his brother is conducting to give him as little to work with as possible. It's a bit disturbing watching Kusuo recount these things with a completely neutral tone. He suspects that his brother has something to do with the difficulty speaking as well. He's fluent on paper.

"I'm  ... sorry ... Touma." Kusuo keeps his hands held behind his back, looking at anything but him. It's weirdly charming. He's willing to go out of his way like that to fix their friendship. Touma takes them in his, holding them in front of him, fingers interlocking.

"Do I have to tell you it's okay again?" Touma smiles. "I know you didn't mean to. It's just a consequence of your environment. Anyone else would do the same. There's lots of studies about that, human experiments and stuff that are definitely not allowed anymore! I'm reminded of one where they took an identical twin and separated him from his family in order to see if they would develop differently. He obviously did, I mean, why would you think they would develop the same way in different circumstances? The primary trait of humanity is adaptability, after all! You just adapted to your environment, Kusuo."

Kusuo gives him a weary nod, staring at their interlocked hands as if the gesture is alien to him. Touma wiggles his fingers, beaming. "Now you get to be in an environment with me for most of the day! Better than that sadistic pervert, don't you think? I'll buy you sweets, and you don't have to do anything to get them!"

Another nod. "I ... feel ... better."

"Express it, then!"

Kusuo lets out an amused scoff before pulling the corners of his mouth into a gentle smile.

-

Seventh grade.

"The atmosphere is definitely more serious," Touma murmurs, leaning toward Kusuo, who is sat in front of him once more. "No toys or anything. Nothing to keep me occupied."

Touma had hoped against hope that the new middle school classroom would have some sort of fidget, but the room is barren, painted in cold colors. The concrete floor is hard against his shoes, a stark contrast to the foam floors of the elementary. Their uniforms are all black, and they all have to be worn a specific way, making him feel reduced to another tally to the school's attendance. He dreads having to sit still and listen to a lecture. *Multiple* lectures.

The teacher walks into the classroom, greeting the students as they stand at attention. Touma is already fidgeting with the inside of his pockets as he awaits his name to be called. Kusuo steps to the side to obscure Touma from the teacher's view, holding a metal infinity cube behind his back, having extracted it from, seemingly, nowhere. He twitches it, offering it to him.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! He can't say it aloud in the dead silent classroom, but he thinks it really hard. Kusuo flashes him a knowing look, raising his arm when his name is called and sitting back down.

-

Eighth grade. 

Touma's eyelids droop as he reads the assigned pages in the math textbook. He yawns, leaning on his hand while he uses the other to fiddle with the infinity cube. The boy in front of him leans back far enough that he lays his head on Touma's desk, covering the textbook. Touma blinks down at him. "Oh, hello. I was sort of doing something."

"Oh." Kusuo raises his head, but Touma guides it back down.

"It's fine. What's in that note of yours?" Touma asks, fiddling with his pink hair instead, taking care not to touch the clips. Kusuo hands it to him with a far less guilty look than usual. It reads: "I have good news."

Touma raises an eyebrow, setting the note on his desk. "Well?"

Kusuo writes the remainder of his message upside down, and Touma has to turn the note around. It reads: "Kuusuke is gone. He left a month ago."

Touma tries to contain his excitement, kicking his feet. "Oh, *that's* why you've been acting like that recently!"

He'd shown up to the Asumi apartment unannounced to help with housework. Like Touma mentioned on that day. They ate dinner together, played video games together, went to the park like normal friends do. And he seemed to enjoy it. Kusuo smiles, more genuine than before. More writing: "Thanks for being there during the toughest part, Touma. I didn't know how to deal with it even though I had it coming."

Touma glosses over that last sentence. "It's only fair. You helped me beat Takashi."

"Hey, faggots, why are you passing notes?! The teacher isn't even here!" Takashi calls from the corner of the room, surrounded by his new squad of about six people.

"It's 'cause they're spergs, duh," one of them says. Touma glances at them and doesn't respond.

"They're just bored and wanna pick a fight," he murmurs, and Kusuo nods in agreement.

"Mister!" Takashi calls as he walks in. "Mister, they're sodomizing in public!"

The teacher lets out a dejected sigh, sinking into his chair. "What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Punish them! They're breaking the law!"

"You do it, then. I have food poisoning."

"Can't catch a break," Touma mumbles, leaning over Kusuo as Takashi stomps toward them. Him shielding Kusuo means they should leave him alone, surely. "Your problem is with me and me only! I'm the one that beat you, Fire Crotch!"

"Take him, too. He should watch what we do to Lil' Pissy Pants." Damn.

Touma flails uselessly as he is dragged out of his chair by the collar of his buttoned up jacket, jamming his fingers underneath it to stop himself from choking.

"This one's empty." A large thud reverberates throughout the empty classroom as Touma is shoved into the teacher's desk headfirst. He holds the back of his aching head, panting while he watches Kusuo get forced into a chair next to the door. His arm is tied to the metal bar conjoining the chair and desk in an uncomfortable position. He has to contort his body just to keep his elbow from dislocating. One of them moves the desk to face Touma. Kusuo's calm demeanor has become rapt with anxiety, eyes darting from object to object, person to person, looking for a way out. Takashi stands over Touma, arms crossed and silhouette overbearing. "Okay, Pissy Pants. You know Hambrabi's code?"

"Hammurabi, you mean. The RX-139 Hambrabi is a mobile suit that debuted in Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam in 1985, most notably piloted by Yazan Gable. It helped simplify the transformation process to make it suitable for mass-prod—"

"Shut the fuck up!" The wind is knocked out of Touma's lungs as the boy kicks his abdomen in. "You know it, then. And you know you're a faggot. Sodomites get what sodomites dish out."

"What are you—" Touma yelps, cradling his left shin. It won't stop throbbing. It's probably bruised...

"I ask the questions here!" Takashi puts his foot against the side of Touma's head and forces it into the concrete floor below. He can feel the individual grains of the rough concrete break his skin, burrowing into his flesh. Warm fluid rushes out of the side of his head, rapidly forming a puddle on the ground. He feels himself start to cry through the adrenaline blurring his vision, his entire body trembling with agony.

"Help!" He screams. "Kusuo, help me! Stop it! Stop!"

He tries to block the numerous pairs of shoes from beating him, only to have his hands restrained above him by a particularly overweight henchman. It feels like his hands are about to come off, flattened against the floor as the boys above begin to break him. One writes something on his forehead. Another shoves a mop in his face, saturated with his own blood. The sulfury scent is almost suffocating, as suffocating his lungs seemingly beginning to malfunction. He breathes in, but it feels like his very cells are choking to death. Every fiber of his being scrapes against one another, every movement a sharp pain in his nervous system. He only vaguely recognizes being picked up by his neck and bent over the teacher's desk.

The voices around him are reduced to incoherent mumbles. He can somewhat hear the clink of his belt as it is unbuckled, somewhat feel a cold draft around his legs. His pants are off. That means... that means...

"Stop! Stop it! Stop, stop, stop..." He can hear the weakness in his own voice as he repeats the word over and over and over again, kicking behind him even though he knows it won't do anything. The tough hands holding him in place don't flinch at all. He can't go on anymore. He falls unconscious, glad to be in a state of temporary nonexistence during the event.

Touma gasps for air, suddenly awake. His body still aches with abuse. It wasn't a dream. A nightmare, rather. It was real. He was really...

Was he, though? His downstairs region doesn't feel any different. Touma props himself up on the desk behind him, surveying the room. It's derelict. Cracks upon the walls, lights hanging from the ceiling with exposed wires. Desks and chairs separated from one another, legs covered in blood. Seven bodies lay splayed in different positions, thrown over different broken objects. One is draped out of the windowsill, red still dribbling from the shattered glass. A pair of legs hang from a missing ceiling tile, barefoot. The classroom is stained a deep orange by the sunset. He was out for like two hours, then. 

Kusuo is nowhere to be seen. What the hell happened? Someone came in here, just as he was about to be-- mhm-- and saved him. The only person that would be able to do this is Kusuo. So, why isn't he here, then?

"Where were you yesterday?"

Kusuo doesn't make eye contact with him, continuing to sip his coffee as he leans back in his chair. It's early. Usually, the gang is causing trouble in the back of the room, but it is eerily silent now. Touma can hear his clothes rustle as he adjusts his position in his chair. He's sat in front of Kusuo for now, to gauge his expression and detect potential lies. Kusuo looks out the window, pretending that he isn't there.

"Not responding makes you look more suspicious. At least give me an alibi. I'll just assume it was you who saved me. Again. From much worse circumstances, this time. I doubt he would've tried that in second grade."

Kusuo scrunches his nose at him before writing him a note. Touma mirrors the expression as he takes it, reading it. "I escaped as soon as the attention was only on you. I guess someone strong on the cleanup detail noticed what was going on and saved you."

"But the timing was way too tight for that. It was right when he was about to take my boxers off." Touma gags at the recollection, swallowing. Kusuo's eyes soften behind his toy glasses, probably against his will. His note says the complete opposite, though.

"Why should I care? It's not like they tried to rape me. They weren't going to do anything to me, they just wanted me to watch. And I didn't care, so it doesn't affect me. There's no reason for me to help you."

"Have you already forgotten what your brother did to you?"

Kusuo goes still.

"Right, so you know how it feels," Touma rationalizes. "And you didn't want that to happen to me. I strongly doubt that you've suddenly stopped caring about me, after everything we've done for each other."

Kusuo's handwriting is messier than usual his neat, print-like characters. "Maybe it would've been good for you to be raped because we'd have more in common. I shouldn't be the only one who has experienced that."

Kusuo withdraws the note, not intending for Touma to read that last part. He erases it and writes something new. "I haven't been raped, just coerced into doing that. But it's still closer than remaining a virgin."

"Why make the distinction?" Touma fiddles with the corners of the note as he rereads it.

"I'm not a victim."

Touma glances up at his expression to deduce what that means, only to find none. He wrote that completely straight-faced. Confusing. "You're not? I mean, in all senses of the word--"

"I could've stopped all of that from happening, but I didn't. I'm not powerless. I can't be tricked. I let it happen to me because I'm strong enough to take it."

Powerless? So, he has powers? That would explain the gruesome scene, his inexplicably strong punch, the Fire Crotch incident, and his sudden healing back in the first grade. Touma had long abandoned that narrative in favor of actually befriending him, but it seems as though he's... admitting it? His name lines up with it and everything.

Kusuo shakes his head. "I'm not a unique person at all. I'm just a narcissist. I have delusions of grandeur. I'm delusional, don't listen to me. Everything I say is a lie. I'm a liar, like my brother."

"You obviously don't know how to lie because you're just obscuring your true motives with a bunch of nonsense. Still, it's an effective strategy." He'll have to pick out the true statements among that flurry of justifications.

Kusuo lays his head on his desk. "Goodnight."

Touma glances at the window. "Class is about to start, though."

No response.

-

"He transferred later that year without telling me. I pried too much. I was too much of a burden on him, I think. By the end there, it was obvious he didn't want to be my friend anymore." Akechi drums his fingers on his ceramic mug. "Hey, but since I know he's a psychic for sure now, I know that he's the one that saved me from being gang raped!"

Shun chokes on his hot chocolate. He's never heard someone say the words 'gang raped' with such enthusiasm. They're sat outside of a cafe now, once Shun realized that the exposition dump could not be halted. It's a bit chilly now that it's night time, but the volcanic catastrophe in the southern tip of Japan is keeping the country warm. No matter. Akechi leans closer to him. "What did you think about my story? Was it good? Did I tell it well?"

"I feel like you should've spaced it out across several chapters," Shun comments. "I found it hard to properly digest, you know?"

"Do you need help digesting?"

"I can digest it myself, thank you very much." Anything to stop this chatterbox from talking. He must love the sound of his own voice.

"Cool! Now, it's your turn!"

"W-what?"

"Tell me everything!"

Shun rubs his thumb against the mug's handle, nervous. "I don't know about *everything*. Surely you left some parts out of your story."

"I didn't think you wanted to hear about me and Kusuo being happy together. Just the drama parts. I don't blame you! I can see the appeal. Tell me your drama. Spill your tea." Akechi is about to fall onto the table with just how much he's leaning closer. Shun narrows his eyes. Yeah, yeah, you were happy together. But guess who ended up with him? Shun. Ha. He pushes down the envious thoughts.

"My tea? Uh." Shun takes another sip, averting his eyes from the unrelenting stare. "With Kusuo or me generally?"

"Both!" He says in a high-pitched voice. "Both."

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

“Here is a real example of toxic masculinity, when a man openly uses physical and emotional violence and insults, because he considers his girlfriend his property who is not allowed to talk to other men or not to show proper admiration for him. And then brazenly initiate physical contact, ignoring her legitimate annoyance of him.”

This is about Zuko throwing a guy across the room for talking to Mai and then trying to wrap an arm around her despite their break up. Thoughts?

I am once again begging this fandom to learn what words mean AND to figure out how nuance works already. Two things can be true at the same time.

Mai didn't have to like (or pretend to like) the seashell Zuko got her, but she could have at least appreciated the gesture. Zuko getting paranoid that her being unimpressed means she doesn't actually like him makes perfect sense considering his trauma, but it was still all in his head and he had no reason to accuse Mai of cheating.

Jealousy can sometimes be a sign of some deep insecurity/trust issue or potential red flag, but it is also a completely normal human emotion that shouldn't be pathologized just because it's an unpleasant one that makes people lose their cool.

And more importantly: Zuko could have tried handling the situation some other way instead of IMMEDIATELY going for a physical fight, BUT there's literally no one in the world that wouldn't have gotten really mad if someone was blatantly making moves on their partner, KNOWING they had someone - because that's what that guy was doing, not "just talking".

Mai probably only didn't notice his intention because she couldn't be bothered to think about a random stranger for more than two seconds. There's a reason she broke up with Zuko over his unfair accusations, but also didn't stay at the party much longer.

I'm all for pointing out that zutarians often ignore Zuko's flaws (which do include entitlement and a generally toxic, over-aggressive mentality/pattern of behavior) while demonizing Aang for doing stuff that isn't anywhere near as serious as the bullshit Zuko gets up to, but that is NOT the same as going "Let's exagerate Zuko's bad behavior especifically when it comes to his romantic relationship."

There are TWO episodes in which he and Mai aren't seeing eye to eye, and this is the ONLY ONE in which the source of the conflict isn't something as serious them finding themselves in opposing sides in a war. Zuko was the one who behaved the worse during The Beach, but Mai also messed up. After the big confrontation by the fire, neither of them EVER repeats the same bad behaviors (being too apathetic, communicating poorly, jumping to conclusions and picking up a fight).

Of all the people that played a significant role in Zuko's story and arc, Mai is pretty high up on the list of "Characters he had the least conflict with", losing only to Ursa, who was around for one episode (set before THE traumatic event that pushed Zuko to be his worst self).

He said mean things to her that one time, but it never crossed the line into full on verbal abuse like it did with Iroh, or open hostility with threats to her safety like with the Gaang or Azula (even if we need to cut him some slack when it comes to his sister because *gestures broadly at their disaster rivalry*).

The same episode in which he's treating her worse than ever has him openly admiring her for not putting up with it, and he's being completely sincere because one of Zuko's most consistent character traits is not having the patience to deal with people that just roll over and let him do as he pleases (there's a reason Iroh consistently got through to him far more effectively when he wasn't walking on egg-shells, trying to avoid upseting him or bruising his ego, and got screwed over, or straight up ditched, whenever he bit his tongue for the sake of avoiding a fight - Zuko is naturally drawn to people that keep him in check.).

Zuko behaved like a bad boyfriend ONCE, got dumped for it, opened up about what the fuck was going through his head to make him act that way, won his girl back and, again, NEVER REPEATED THAT MISTAKE - and in fact his entire role in this story is being the dude that is trying to be a better person who can hold himself accountable when he fucks up.

That's not how a sexist, possessive, entitled boyfriend that is set in his ways acts. That's how a literal teenager that's dealing with a lot behaved on a really bad day.

Taking this isolated incident and pretending that's just how Zuko is as a boyfriend is no different than if people were to claim Katara is an entitled, jealous, egotistical loser that can't handle it when other people are better than her just because of the ONE episode where she snapped at Aang out of envy for his waterbending skills. It's an unfair, biased reading that only works if you ignore multiple episodes worth of context.

Zuko wasn't a saint or a perfect boyfriend, but he wasn't ever abusive or even genuinely toxic to Mai. We don't need to pretend otherwise just because zutarians decided to label him as the first male to ever do a feminism while the evil Aang is TOTALLY telling women to go back to the kitchen where they belong. You don't respond to bad faith arguments by saying something equally stupid. Literally all it does is invalidate the point you were trying to make.

[slayfics]

Muichiro tries sake for the first time with you.

Warnings: alcohol use | Muichiro aged up, no underage drinking condoned here

You walked into the estate holding a bag of supplies you had gone out to grab.

"That took you longer than expected," Muichio commented on your late arrival.

"I know. A customer was giving the saleswomen a hard time so I had to put him in his place. It slowed me down a bit but look," you said enthusiastically, pulling two bottles out of the bag. "She was so thankful she gave me two free bottles of sake!"

"Oh my that was rather generous of her,'" Muichiro said, eyeing the large bottles of sake.

"I tried to deny them but she wouldn't take no for an answer, and I figured it might be nice for us to unwind after the challenging last few days." You said placing the oversized bottles of sake on the table.

"Hmm..." Muichiro pondered, tilting his head, "I'm not sure if I ever tried sake before."

"Well no better time like today," you said, placing two sake cups on the table and flashing a wide grin at Muichiro.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try," Muichiro decided, opening one of the bottles and pouring you both a cup full of sake.

You held your cup out to him indicating to cheers. Muichiro looked at you curiously but held his glass up and followed your lead in clinking cups.

He took a sip of his sake and his eyes widened, "this is actually tasty." He said, finishing and pouring himself another cup.

"I'm glad you like it," you said smiling again at the Hashira.

You served yourself some food in the kitchen and came back to find Muichiro had finished almost half of the first bottle.

"Umm- Tokito you said this was your first time drinking sake, but is it your first time drinking alcohol at all?" You asked, a little concerned about Muichiro's pacing.

"Hmmm... I might have tried something before but not much I don't think." He said, finishing another cup.

You sat down to eat and pushed a plate over to Muichiro. "Maybe you should eat as well and take it a little slow," you said, placing your hand on the back of your neck. You felt strange giving a Hashira orders but you couldn't help but be worried Muichiro would make himself sick.

"Ok," Muichiro agreed, taking bites of the food you slid over to him but continued to down more cups of sake. At this point, you noticed the Hashira swaying a bit. "Hey, what was your life like before demons?" He asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What was your life like? What did you do? Who did you know?" He clarified.

"Pretty normal I guess, I spent time with friends and family. I didn't always know demons existed so it was peaceful until... well you know-" You cut off not wanting to get any more into the trauma you had endured.

"Friends, did you have a boyfriend or anything like that?" Muichiro asked, finishing another cup of sake.

"Hahaha umm..." You took a drink of your own cup before answering. "No, nothing like that. Sort of the opposite actually."

"The opposite?" He asked, tilting his head again in an adorable manner completely captivated by your story.

"Yeah... I used to get made fun of when I was younger by some of the boys in my village..." You said wincing at the old memory. It was kind of comical actually how you stood in front of demons every day but the thought of the silly boys and their mean words still affected you.

"WHAT!" Muichiro exclaimed, causing you to jump. Muichiro never had that much enthusiasm when he spoke. It was a harsh contrast to his usual low and dreamy voice. "You're being serious, what dense boys," he said, filling up his cup once more. "Oh, I seemed to have finished the first bottle..." Muichiro began to open the next bottle of sake and poured you both another cup.

"You sure you're ok Tokito?" You asked, feeling worried about the Hashira as his demeanor had drastically changed indicating his drunkenness.

"I'm great! I don't think I've felt this good in a long time actually,” he said, stuffing another bite of food in his mouth. "Those boys were very ignorant, they were lucky to even have been in your presence," Muichiro said, his face flushed. You weren't sure if his flushness was from the sake or his words.

"Thanks, Tokito," you said, nervously looking down at your cup and taking a sip.

"No need to be modest about it- You're wildly beautiful." He said his gaze moving from his sake to fix on you.

His fixed gaze sent a shiver down your spine, you weren't sure how to handle so much of the Hashira's attention. Muichiro never spoke so openly about how he viewed you, as much as you loved it you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Umm thank you- so um, what about you?”

“Hm?”

“Ever since you got your memories back you haven’t shared much about what you remembered or how your life was before joining the corps.” You spoke trying to take the attention off of yourself.

Muichiro’s expression quickly changed and his eyes seem to glaze over, “I lived with my parents and twin brother until they all died.” He said plainly with seemingly no emotion in his voice.

You instantly felt foolish for asking the Hashira. How dense were you? The memories had to be awful if they caused Muichiro to lose his memory. He was enjoying his night and you brought that crashing down with one question.

“I’m so sorry Tokito- I shouldn’t have asked…,” you said looking back down at your cup and taking a sip in hopes of banishing your mistake.

Muichiro just shrugged, “No need to apologize, you are rather cute when you’re embarrassed,” he said gaze still fixed on you.

He appeared to be unaffected by the remembrance of his family and quickly found a way to bring the attention back to you.

Your heartbeat increased and you nervously searched your brain for a way to respond. “You’re cute yourself being so tipsy,” you decided to say.

Muichiro attempted to get closer to you but stumbled and fell over catching himself on his hands. You quickly made your way to help him.

“I’m embarrassed,” Muichiro said as you placed your arms out to steady him.

“Don’t be, you deserve to unwind every once in a while you work hard.” You said. Muichiro’s gaze was no longer fixed on you but past you at the door.

“I uh- don’t feel so well-“ he mumbled, and tried to stand with no luck. He stumbled back into place.

“I’ll help you,” you said, wrapping his arm around you and standing him up. Muichiro looked like he wanted to protest but didn’t have the strength. His face was turning pale white and you were sure it was taking all his strength not to be sick all over the floor.

You two crashed into the bathroom and Muichiro swiftly dropped to the toilet successfully holding in his sickness till he made it. You carefully grabbed his hair and held it out of the way for him.

It was hard to tell with him being sick but it appeared Muichiro was crying as well.

“Thank you-“ he said, looking away from you. You grabbed him a fresh towel and he wiped his face before turning around to look at you. When he turned to finally look at you, his cheeks were colored again but his eyes were swollen and glossy with tears.

“You’re so nice, I’d kiss you if I didn’t just throw up.” He said. Normally that would have caused butterflies in your stomach but you found yourself overwhelmed with concern for the Hashira.

You bent over and kissed him on his forehead. Muichiro came crashing down into your arms, head resting on your chest. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him and he began to weep.

“I remember now. I miss them, my mom and dad- my brother-“ he mumbled in between sobs. You hugged him tighter and rested your head on top of his.

“I’m so sorry Tokito,” you said, rocking back and forth slightly trying to soothe him. With these gentle motions, the Hashira’s tears slowly subsided.

“I can help you to bed if you like,” you offered.

“Can’t I stay here,” he asked, closing his eyes and enjoying your rhythmic movements.

“Yes, I’ll hold you as long as you want,” you said and planted another kiss on top of his head. After a few moments, his breathing depended and the weight of his head increased on your chest indicating he had fallen asleep. You leaned back against the wall and allowed your own eyes to become heavy, arms still wrapped around the Hashira.

Hi! Sorry I decided not to add any tags on this since I wasn’t sure how everyone felt about alcohol use~

[asunsetgrace16]

Alright, 9-1-1 Bucktommy fans, It's time for my tinfoil hat moment. (this is the only thing keeping me sane rn)

So. Based on 8x06, it's easiest and the least painful to assume that Bucktommy is done for good.

HOWEVER...it is not out of the realm of possibility that those interviews were supposed to hit the way they did and they are really just fucking with us. OS's interview was less than ideal in multiple ways, unfortunately. If we follow with this, there may be a chance for them to get back together. Or if they are well and truly done, the chance for them to have an actual conversation about it. So here is my proposal:

8x07 is "Tommy Begins", set a few months after 8x06. In the present day, there is a multi-alarm emergency where the 217 and 118 are both there. In the flashbacks, we see Tommy in the army, facing indirect homophobia while trying to figure himself out.

Then his time at the 118 with Gerrard as captain, dealing with the same thing from the army. We see him try dating as a gay man, getting his first serious boyfriend circa ~2012-13. And thanks to the idea from @honestlynervousnut, it doesn't go well. It's abusive, manipulative, and when Tommy gets out of it, he tries to bury that part of him for good, associating moving in with a relationship going downhill. Thus enters Abby and the trauma etc.

We see him apologizing to Chim and Hen, and getting settled at the 217 while finally feeling comfortable with himself and his sexuality. Maybe there is another boyfriend or a few dates.

Present Day: The emergency is a nightmare, and it only gets worse when Tommy's helicopter crashes. Buck, despite trying to forget about his pain by sleeping around, still can't forget about Tommy. He's done some growing, some reflecting in there too. He drops what he's doing to run to Tommy. They get him to the hospital alive, but barely, maybe sprinkling in Tommy coding en route. Then they pull a Tarlos and have Buck talk to him while he's in a coma about how he still loves him, and wants to fight for them, and how he would be willing to start over if Tommy would just wake up.

The episode ends with Tommy squeezing Buck's hand and saying "Evan..."

THEN, just hold on, I'm not done yet.

8x08, we see Buck and Tommy have a heartbreakingly honest conversation while Tommy is in the hospital about Tommy's past relationships, his actual hesitation and reluctance to want to be with Buck. And Buck talks about how even though he thought he was secure in his sexuality, he wasn't actively trying to understand how to figure out what changed about him and what stayed the same while, sharing his growth too. Buck will bring up the line "you don't find a great love, you make it" and after the tears and the confessions, Buck says "I've never stopped loving you. And I won't, no matter how this ends, because as much as Abby was transformative, you blew my mind wide open to things that I never knew I could have." Buck gets his third chance, and they do say that the third time's the charm. He says the things he should have said last time.

Then there is more tears, Tommy says I love you back, and apologizes, and agrees to start over. Copy and paste Carlos holding on to TK's arm with a hand in his hair, but with Buck, and they kiss. Finally.

Then the camera pans to a shot of Bobby, Athena, Eddie, Chim, Lucy, and whoever else standing in the doorway/looking through the window but they can still hear all of Buck's speech, of Tommy's room, tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces.

Then the episode continues. Thanks for coming to my delusional TedTalk

[writers-potion]

Hi. I'm writing a novel in first person and my main character has some serious trauma around swimming, but I'm not quite sure how to write that fear or that reaction they would have. also having the same problem with a lot of fear-related subjects when writing in first person. any tips? thanks! :D

Hi, thank you for the question!

As someone who has a deep fear of drowning AND of swimming, I think I can testify for that particular fear in person. But before I dive in, here are some factors to consider:

Age of your character: A child or teen or adult?

Children are more likely to show fear by expressing dislike, or even being violent/throwing tantrums when they're made to confront it. Teens may try to hide it, or build creative (sometime extreme) methods to avoid it like hell. Adults, at least mature ones, will learn to build barriers around their fears: avoiding it as much as possible, but also learning to control their reactions when they come to contact with it.

One-time event or chronic?

Another thing to consider is how the trauma came to be in the first place. Here are two traumas from my personal life:

Fear of water: I nearly drowned in a wasterfall at age 2. At age 5, one of my friends pushed me into a pool unexpectedly. Age 10, my sister made me swim to the deep side of the pool and when I stopped to take a break, I couldn't stand up. Age 13, I had a horrible swimming teacher who expected everyone to be able to swim..etc.etc. I've had multiple near-death experiences in water and after that, even after I've learnt how to swim, I'll NEVER.

Fear of elevators: I was locked inside an elevator for over an hour during a powercut. When I managed to forced the door open to escape, I found myself staring at the abyss that smelled faintly of oil. I was stuck in between floors. + Around the same time, a delivery man in the same elevator grabbed and kissed me, then ran away. A couple of days later, he tried to force his way into our apartment when I answered the door. These two event alone was enough to compel me to take the stairs for the next seven months.

Usually when a trauma has been built over time, it's difficult to see the problem rationally even when time has passed.

Traumas caused by a large, one-off event, moving away from the specific location and getting rid of the situation more or less permanently is often enough to make the person see the situation rationally. It was that particular elevator, that delivery man. It's not going to happen again. It'll remain more like a fully healed scar that tingles once now and then.

The attitude of your character. Do they want to overcome the fear, and feel frustrated/angry at themselves when they inadvertently feel scared? Or are they highly defensive? Maybe they have no mental walls built, and simply run away at the slightest hint of the feared situation.

Tips for Writing Fears

It's easier to open up to strangers. It's easier to confess a fear to someone who doesn't know your personal history, since there's less chance you'll be judged.

Simulating isn't the same as actually confronting. Your character can find themselves dreaming about being able to swim perfectly, then feel their daydream shatter when they actually try to.

Extreme tension + crashing afterward. Whenever your character is exposed to swimming, they'll be at their wit's edge, being tense and paying extreme attention to their surroundings. Once they're home, they'll simply crash like how you'd hit the bed after a long, hard day (maybe feeling body pain, constricted chest, headache, loss of appetite from the sheer exhaustion).

Overly prepared vs. Avoiding. It's one or the other. Either your character brings a safety jacket, a donut tube, a rope, snorkling equipment, etc. or they don't bring a swimsuit at all so that they can say, "I can't swim in my skinny jeans and silk shirt, can I?" and avoid it altogether.

Saying "I'm okay!" repeatedly. More to themselve than to others as a form of desperate self-assurance.

Panic. At times when your character comes dangerously close to swimming, they'll just panic and make the situation worse for themselves. For example, if they just happen to slip inside water while sitting at the edge of the pool, they'll immediately start kicking and gasping as thogh they've already drowned. It almost becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. They'll swallow water, strain all the muscles in their body, and sit extremely still covered in multiple swimming towels afterward, saying nothing and playing the moment over and over in their head.

Being nervous for the whole day if they know they have a swimming class (or something similar) later

Dreaming about drowning

Trying to learn swimming, but not progressing for months because they can't bring themselves to step out of their comfort zone (which is going to be very small)

Hope this helps! :)

[neutrallyobsessed]

Do you have any headcannons of abe from clone high? Most of mine are angsty because of my trauma projecting onto him but I headcannon he's autistic, transfem and closeted bisexual

You seem to be opposite me with yo' angsty hcs and certain disregard of canon. But that's aight, I support playing with the characters like dollies, whichever way it may be~~

For me, working with what I'm familiar with and the sake of simplicity, I have Abe in the default cis-het settings and thinking of mental health things is the opposite of simple so I omit it as well

But also, at the top of my head....... well, he's not exactly in my mind all the time so i don't have anything thought out really. Abe is a pretty well-rounded... uhh well-squared character so its not easy to find empty spaces to fill with one's own interpretation so I'll try my best^^:

His Lincoln Collection started with (excluding currency) commemorative pins and weird string marionettes.

And after 20 years there's a lot more to catch up!!

Abe is the only one to still have like, pictures of Gandhi, things to remember him by.

Which is why he's the only one who remembers Gandhi by name and all.

And yes, he's most likely to be first in finding him (i just don't know how yet xd)

He has the habit of putting people in either pedestals or specific roles (Gandhi is the funny friend, Joan is the serious girl friend, Cleo is the serious girlfriend) and can get quite upset when they don't do what he expects them to do

But he never verbalizes this beyond a "You're not acting like yourself!"

He got that Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney vibes ngl. Overly attachted and willing to die for those he loves. Quite literally for his detriment. And the kinda bitchy inner monologue ;vv

But not the Attorney part. Topher showed him that he could not be able to defend someone who is either guilty or lying about not being guilty.

He likes lighthouses but he could never become an operator, too lonely of a job for him who seems to enjoy social interactions (even if he's bad at it xd)

So idk what he'd do for a living but I imagine Gandhi could be there

My mind is going to trains actually x3

I like the cat-lover idea. I'll include it in my system of beliefs.

He likes pussy lol, that's pretty straight guy behavoir ngl xdd

Music between the 50s and 70s enjoyer. Sounds that are perky and fun and great to dance to!

He also collects coins~! It did start with Lincoln faces and now has over 100 coins not just from the US but many other countries too!

Not all that good with geography tho, prolly not able to point in a map where each coin belongs to lol

Been thinking of the Joanpher future (hi anon who asked bout it, tis gonna be a long one too) and how Abe is gonna be relevant again there so here some tidbits to fill that space xd

There are 2 timelines: One with a MaryAbe end and one with a FridAbe end

I don't have much planned out but Fridabe happens when they're 20 but she dies around her 50s

And I haven't figured out when Abe becomes a ghost with Mary but it does happend and they have an open relationship of sorts cause they need souls to survive and it apperantly works in succubus/inccubus ways

He likes freaky, slutty girls, that's kinda canon tbh lmaooo

I hope this improvised rambling satisfies you ♥

[migosis]

One story, six prompts (erik killmonger x reader short)

i came out of retirement and challenged myself using prompts from @eye-raq's post here.

Synopsis: Erik is getting serious with a girl who is scared to love him b/c of past trauma. What happens when he breaks her trust?

masterlist

------

You were in the kitchen preparing a snack before you sat down to watch television. The distraction of being entertained by drama that wasn’t yours was exactly what you needed this evening. Even though this was your second time watching Insecure, you still couldn’t decide if you were Team Issa or Team Molly. Your phone chimed, notifying you there was motion detected on your front door step and moments later you heard a few knocks. You scoffed once you saw the footage of Erik waiting impatiently, checking to see if there was a key under a planter nearby. You barely cracked the door open before walking back in the house towards the kitchen. You heard him smack his lips, but you were genuinely unconcerned in the moment about his frustration. He was hot on your tail following you into the kitchen where you faced away from him and continued cutting your pineapple.

“I don’t like being hung up on, that’s some grimy shit.” He declared.

“Unfortunately for you Erik, I dont really give a fuck about what you like right now. I told you I wanted space so I’m not sure why you’re here.”

“Y/n, that was 4 days ago. I'm tired of this, all you do is shut down. It would be one thing if you actually moved on, but you're still mad about the same shit four days later. Like where does that leave me?"

"I don't know." You said nonchalantly. 

"See this what the fuck I be talking about. Is this a relationship or not?"

"Erik, I don't know what you want from me.”

"I want you to stop fucking running and talk to me so we can get past this. I want more than this, I’m tired of playing games."

"I don't want to get past it. I just want to be heard. And clearly you couldn't do that so I hung up."

"Babe, I heard you. I told you I was sorry and I even understood where you was coming from. I told you how I could’ve handled it better, but why am I the only one that has to be accountable? You went thru my phone and found something you shouldn't have been looking for in the first place. Why you can't admit that? Why you can't admit that you didn't trust me in the first place?"

"Erik, stop. I really don't wanna do this." Here you were trying to stave off the immense emotion you felt in that moment. You could place it, but your chest was tight, palms hot, and you used the back of your hand to stave off tears that threatened to fall. 

Erik's chest ached when he heard your voice crack. He hated to see you cry, and even more for him to be at the source of it. He was truly apprehensive in trying to soothe you. He knew you were asking for space, but who else was going to do the work of soothing you and earning your trust back. In a group chat, his friends commented on y/n’s “standoff-ish” demeanor and implying that she was insecure in her looks and suggested that he could do better. Y/n’s heart sank when Erik did not defend her, but only replied insisting they mind their business and making several jokes about their failed relationships. 

He stepped closer from behind. He placed his hand over yours gently, prying the knife out of her and sitting it down.

"Listen y/n, this love shit is scary as hell but I'm willing to accept it. Are you?"

Love? You questioned internally, had he meant to say that. It felt unreal, but not unreal enough for you to deny it. When you thought about how Erik treated you, you could tell he loved you. And even though you had labeled the relationship you and him had kindled everything else under the sun it was only in this moment you realized what you two had cultivated was love. 

Even despite this realization, some wounded part in you needed to push back. "Erik, I don't think you know what you're saying." You shook your head. You could feel his hands around your waist now, making you tense up. But when he rested his head on your shoulder, you began to breathe again. If you could so casually let him in, it also meant that letting him go wouldn’t be so easy. You needed to make a fight, construct walls, not allow yourself to get used to his love because the love you were used to was unstable, unreliable, and unsafe. In reality Erik had been the opposite of all of those things to you, so this was the moment you understood the problem all along was not that you needed to let him in like he’d been pleading for. You needed to let you out. This solitary confinement was making your love for Erik complicated. It was making his love for you hard, while it could be so easy. His love truly swept you up and held you tight. It was hard to breathe his air, but with all of these realizations flooding your mind, you know you could not keep suffocating yourself with burdens of the past or concerns of the future.

His lips found your neck and he promptly turned you around to face him. Gently, he brushed away the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

"You know how I feel about you, it's already apparent. Please don’t cry baby."

He kissed you again and your hand grabbed onto the front of his shirt holding him there. You pulled him deeper into your mouth. Tasting him again felt amazing and the way his hands grazed your hips made you want him in other ways. You hummed into his mouth out of pure impulse. When you pulled away, you turned leaning over the counter and pressed your backside into him. You grinded against him, tempting him to palm your ass. His hand continued up your back, grabbing you up against his chest by your ponytail. She quickly went to untie the elastic on her pajama shorts and pull them down but Erik's hand stopped her. 

"Wait."

"What?" She questioned as he stepped back from her painstakingly slow.

"Erik c’mooon." She whined at him. Once she actually looked back at him, she could see the pensive look he had on his face which made her fill with concern.

"Sex isn't going to make this go away.”

"I know that, Erik." She nearly rolled her eyes, but she was trying her best to be earnest.

"I want you to talk to someone baby.”

Off rip, you were immediately embarrassed at the thought of him telling you that you needed some type of help. 

“I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Well you’re not talking to me and I’m trying to stay together, so am I worthy enough to change your mind?”

“Can you be flexible? How about we talk to someone?”

“Couples therapy? I never thought I’d need that corny ass shit.” He muttered the last part quietly. “But I love you and I know you do too, so you’re really gonna have to convince me otherwise.”

It was hard to bring yourself to say those words so you simply stated. "I do." He smirked and lifted you on the counter. He looked you over and told you how much he missed you. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth. You held his scruffy jaw, beckoning him closer to you. You barely flinched when his hand crept around your neck, and finally found home grasping your chest.

"I thought you said no sex." You said breathlessly.

"That was before, now I'm about to make love to you."

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[ffviidirtyconfessions]

Rebirth has thoroughly drained my enjoyment of the remake trilogy. I no longer feel obligated to try and play the games anymore. I don't even want to play ever crisis. And honestly that's the one I was looking forward to the most, because that was supposed to have a game version of Advent children. But it doesn't seem like it's going to happen because of how shitty and terrible rebirth has been. I waited years for that game, just this whole remake in general, and now I just feel so drained. I, myself, only got 20 hours into the game. Just 20, and I pre-ordered the game. It is safe to say that I will no longer be playing a final fantasy game unless I see play through that I like of it.

I really, truly feel your pain here. After all's said and done, I honestly feel like the best thing Rebirth gave me was the chance to see Advent Children on the big screen. This is coming from a person who's been putting off buying a PS5 until I see a game that's worth it on it. This wasn't worth it. So I can't even imagine what it's like actually having bought it.

Even in those first 20 hours, I'm sure you already experienced so much of what I find weird, offensive at worst, and just off-putting about this game. It extends everything to such a strange point, the opening Nibel Mountain sequence being the first offender of all. Everything takes so much time to do and yet gains so little depth, oftentimes less than the original game, which had limited space. It's an insanely huge game that turns out to feel mostly empty. There's constant "upgradable collectables" around every corner, even serious story relevant corners, a required card game, chocobo racing everywhere I guess, and don't even get me started on the Chadley world intel thing that was literally for some reason just ripped out of Zelda Breath of the Wild (????). It wants to be 500 different other popular games and stops being a Final Fantasy game.

The story, too, is just as distracted. It has what I might call "interrupting cow" syndrome. Nothing is allowed to just sit. You have to see the next flashiest thing right away, even if it feels emotionally dissonant from whatever just happened. Oh yeah, let us not forget the random DEAD MOBILE GAME PULL that takes up SO MUCH TIME????? WHO THE FUCK IS GLENN LODBROK ACTUALLY OR AM I JUST A BAD FF7 FAN BECAUSE I DON'T THINK I AM- ahem. This general problem worries me most in the places that matter most to me- specifically in that they seem to want to erase Cloud's mental illness. His memory problems are suddenly credited to "degeneration" instead of what it is, which is trauma, what they always implied it to be in the first place. This escalates as the half-baked Zack alternate timeline whatever thing continues. I genuinely think they are really hurting the story by downplaying (if not removing) the emotional cores of loss and trauma in favor of... fighting fate?? The multiverse??? Something?????

All around it feels like it needed way more time in development. It feels rushed while being completely bloated with "content". It doesn't even look very good 90% of the time. I feel like they barely got used to the PS4's tools only to be stage-hooked by Sony over to the PS5.

The ending in particular (don't know whether or not you figured out what they did with it so I'll avoid spoilers) leaves me wholly unenthusiastic for the next installment. And yet I feel I can't completely look away from it. Something about train wrecks makes me need to look at them, but I completely respect your decision to step away, especially when it comes to your own hard earned money and time. If it's any consolation, you're not alone in disliking this.

Apologies for the length of this post. Unfortunately, I am an English major.