#i can just imagine them not talking for like a week but wanting to talk LMAO

[madamechrissy]

Fratboy Gojo

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

More headcanons from Took you Like a Shot - these are extra scenes set after chapter 2, but can be read alone- MDNI- explicit - whipped, longing Gojo- phone sexm, masturbation (Satoru and reader) dirty talk, fluffy ass cuteness, Satoru whimpers, lots of feelings -other headcanons here

Fratboy Gojo should be enjoying his trip with his best friends, but it's getting depressing, even on the cruise to the fucking Bahamas, shouldn't he be having the time of his life? His eyes don't even give anyone attention, how could he when he knows you're back home, pregnant- fuck have you changed in the past couple weeks?

Fratboy Gojo decides not to go out with his friends that night and stay in their suite himself, staring at the phone and contemplating for just a moment before he gives in, calling you. 'Hey Gojo' you say softly, sleep in your voice, making him ache. 'Hey sweetheart, were you asleep?' he hears your yawn, smiling like a lovesick idiot. He guesses that's what he is. 'No, just reading' 'ya reading that smut?' you giggle now 'mmhmm'

Fratboy Gojo hears your little sigh, driving him insane with need, just hearing it makes him hard, throbbing under his boxers while he lays sprawled in the giant, fancy suite that feels empty without you. 'Ya miss me brat?' you scoff now. 'no, never - why do you miss me?' Satoru scoffs now 'no, never, so peaceful without you' you glare at the phone, and he can damn near feel it 'I'm kidding' you bite your lip now, shifting in your bed, hearing his husky voice rushing through you. 'I was kidding too, I kind of miss you, just a little' he smirks, a hand leading down his flat abs, slowly, picturing your pretty body in his mind. 'you just miss cumming, hmm?'

Fratboy Gojo glares when you retort - 'think I don't make myself cum?' 'you're a slutty girl, aren't you?' you feel it, the heat clenching in your tummy. 'I'm mad at you, Satoru - leaving me in this state right after you did that... thing with your mouth' he chuckles, thumb brushing over the trail of silvery hair under his belly button, as you slip up your shorts just a bit, brushing yourself over them, whining before you can stop it. 'You liked me drinking that pussy up, hmm?' you're throbbing around nothing, dammit. 'shouldn't you be partying, dancing or whatever? smoking?' 'maybe I just wanna talk to you, maybe I wanna... be back between your thighs, fuck you'd like that, wouldn't you?'

Fratboy Gojo grins when you huff so clearly over the phone. 'Can I get a picture you think?' you hesitate a bit. 'picture of what?' 'titties' You roll your eyes, but he gets an image- moaning when he sees them 'fuck they're so sexy, wanna suck on those nipples - touch them, would you?' you do as he asks, thumbs running over your nipples in circles. 'they hurt' you pout as your back arches, your nipples pressed against the thin top you're wearing, pussy soaking your shorts even worse while Satoru frees his cock, which is already leaking precum against his lower belly button. 'imagine how they'll be dripping milk, hmm? I'm gonna suck it all up' 'Satoru!' he's chuckling just a bit, but it's too late, you're both too far gone

Fratboy Gojo eases his boxers down fully, thick cock so hard it hurts, imagining just that, milk dripping from your puffy nipples. 'what, you wouldn't like it?' you feel yourself heating up then - 'perv' - he laughs softly, but it turns to a whine when his thumb presses his tip. 'are you stroking yourself, Satoru? thinking of me?' he curses internally, when that bratty little voice is crying out. 'you're touching your pussy, wanting my mouth, aren't you?' you nod, knowing he can't see, as the two of you play with yourselves, his eyes close, hearing you then. 'I can hear how wet you are, fuck' 'mnh!'

Fratboy Gojo can't take it, the longing, he can't hold back like he has been, not on the phone, drunk off your voice, the memories. 'I wanna lick it all up, so wet, isn't she?' you're gasping out, while you pump two little fingers in your soppy little hole. 'y-yes, do you want that, me pouring all over your face?' 'god you're a freaky brat, gonna dirty talk better than me!?' you're both whining, him stroking, you pumping. 'I r-read a lot of smut' he's breathless, listening to your moans grow louder and louder, while his cock twitches, he leans down to spit on it, while you drool down your own fingers. 'that journalism degree- ah f-fuck- it's j-just for you to write... smut... fuck!' you can't glare, you're too wet, pulsing around your fingers, whining 'm'close, Satoru, p-please...'

Fratboy Gojo moans as your words wash through him. 'I wish I was there right now, fuck... want my fingers instead, don't you? yours can't hit that spot?' you whine in frustration. 'y-you little... conceited- shouldn't have g-gone...' he exhales, head leaning back on the soft pillows as yours do 'I know, fuck I know... work your clit, it's easier baby, okay?' you do as he suggests, running in circles, engorged clit twitching under your touch. 'm-mad at you...' he gulps now, cock so close to busting. 'm-mad at myself, please just... will you cum for me baby?' Baby, he's calling you baby, and you're close, hearing his breaths, hearing his wet strokes. 'picture me right there' you do then, shattering, cumming so much you soak your hands, while Satoru chases his release from hearing you.

Fratboy Gojo loses it when you whisper 'you cum for me, now, hmm Satoru? be good' 'fuck you for that, mnh! close, close' you're sucking yourself off your fingers. 'I taste yummy' oh god, he's done, busting so much all over his hand now, white ropes endlessly pouring sticky across his hand, as just hearing him makes your cunt pulse in response. 'want a picture, for fap material?' you roll your eyes, shaking your head. 'you're so annoying...' you pause then. 'yeah.'

Fratboy Gojo uses his clean hand, sending it so quickly, and it makes your pussy clench again, pretty cock coated with cum - with some dumb little cat sticker with it's tongue out - 'fuck... your cock is pretty' 'is that a compliment!?' 'psh... no. a fact. jerk' Satoru cleans up, pressing you on speaker then, as you clean up as well, laying back down, putting him on speaker too. 'I'm upset you left, but I don't blame you for having a life... I guess, I'm just... lonely' Satoru pauses now, emotions in his throat after having that release. 'I wish you told me not to go... I could leave early?' you shake your head. 'no, it's okay, I told you, you're sacrificing enough, this wasn't your choice'

Fratboy Gojo feels something just gnawing at him now, what was he doing here? trying to cling to some bachelor life while you're changing everything about yourself for this. 'I should let you get some sleep' you murmur then, and Satoru shuts his blue eyes, snowy lashes fluttering, when he pulls a pillow close. 'wanna fall asleep on the phone?' you pause, tugging your pillow against yourself. 'yeah we can... Satoru why aren't you out?' because all he can think about is you, that's why. 'I didn't feel like it, get some sleep brat, aren't you growing my baby inside you?' His baby. His. The thought makes him crave you so badly it's difficult to stand it. 'your parasyte you said, remember?' he snorts in laughter. 'it still technically is, you're just emotioal about it'

Fratboy Gojo doesn't know when he fell asleep, but he wakes up and you're still on the phone, lightly snoring... and he knows then, he made the wrong fucking decision. When his friends stumble in and bring girls back, heading to their rooms, Satoru shuts his door, so he can listen to you breathe instead, the only good sleep he's gotten since he's been here.

I'll be doing these between chapters as this story will have some time skips- I hope you enjoyyyy <3

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[sweetbunpura]

Cruise of a Lifetime.

Kalim would like to treat NRC to a cruise for summer break... he may have forgotten to tell everyone WHO else was sharing the ship with them...

Tie into: Rescue from RSA

“....You want to do what?”

“I think we should all go on a cruise for the summer!”

Today was one of the last dorm members meeting for NRC before they were left out for summer break. Kalim stood, a big smile plastered on his face, as he addressed the other dorm and vice leaders. Jamil had his face in his hands while the others in the room fixed Kalim with various expressions in their stares. Riddle blinked as he was no doubt processing the amount of work that would cause just trying to get the students to be cooperative. Trey sighed and shook his head next to him while he pinched the bridge of his nose. Leona��s arms were crossed and his eyes were closed, the only way to tell he had heard was the twitching of his ear.

Azul and Jade looked at each other, both seemed to be weighing the option of being on a ship for summer. Vil’s arms were crossed as he raised an eyebrow, Rook was next to him, eyes shining as he imagined being on the cruise. Idia made a face and pulled his hood up, muttering to himself about being around people would be a massive debuff. Lilia was smiling as he talked with Malleus, pointing out what an adventure on the ocean would be like. Rollo sighed and muttered into his handkerchief while Yuu’s eyes drifted off to the side as she thought about the proposal. 

“Kalim.” She began, gaining the attention of the others. “These guys can hardly stand to be next to each other for long. So, how do you think we'll fare in a ship and for how long?”

“Oh, it won't be long-”

“Thank the seven.” Trey muttered.

“Just four weeks!”

Everyone jerked their heads to look at Kalim with wide eyes.

“A MONTH!?”

He smiled. “Yep! It's that great?”

“Kalim...” Lilia laughed with a sigh. “Isn't that too long? Some of us would like to return to our families.”

“We'll have the remaining months to do that!”  

Once Kalim was dead set on an idea, it was hard to pull him off of it, even Jamil couldn't stop him evident by the dead eyed look he had. While everyone seemed to scramble to think of a way out of this, Yuu spoke up again.

“Okay...but you have to plan the whole thing by yourself. You brought it up, you plan it.”

Kalim blinked and tilted his head. “By myself?”

“All by yourself. No help from anyone in the school.” Yuu crossed her arms. “You got.... A month to plan everything, good luck.”

And with that, the meeting came to a close as each of them went about their way. Later that night, Kalim sat in his room, staring at his laptop as he tried to come up with a vague idea, only for his phone to ring and pull him out of his thoughts. He reached for it and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kalim.” It was Jahzi.

“Jahzi!” Kalim perked up at the sound of his cousin's voice. “How are you?”

A chuckle. “I'm fine, but I'm calling to tell you that we won't be spending the first part of summer break together. I'm taking the RSA guys on a cruise.”

“On a...cruise?” Kalim blinked. “I was planning on doing that with NRC.”

“Oh? Maybe we can do it together.”

“I have to do it by myself... Yuu said I can't get help from anyone in the school.”

“....I'm not in NRC, so it's not breaking her rule.”

“Oh.” Kalim thought about it. “You're right! It's not! So what liner should we use?”

They spent the rest of the night planning and getting everything together for the upcoming month. Summer break was going to be interesting...

[nightscythe]

I’ve been sick for the past two weeks, and it’s got me wondering—how do you think the primarchs would handle their s/o being sick for that long? Would some of them totally panic and try to carry you to the medbay even if you just have a cold? Or would they be the quietly worried type, sitting next to you and acting like they’re not checking your temperature every five minutes?

Would any of them try (and fail) to cook you something? Or maybe sit there reading to you because rest is important? I need to know who’s handling it with grace and who’s acting like you’re dying of the plague.

i hope you feel better anon!! i hope this gives you a bit of comfort ◡̈

pre-heresy primarchs when their muse is sick? just another way of saying that their entire world is shutting down. because they don't get sick so they just can't compute it properly.

cw for sickness/illness of course, worries about death, and alpharius' one is darker.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the lion: he would never, ever leave your side. he may not outright tell you he's worried but given the fact he's moved in days, its safe to assume his worry has consumed him beyond anything else. actually, the only time he did leave was when you fell asleep one time and he wanted to make you food himself (because, if whoever was making your food before was doing a good job, you'd be better already). he can't actually cook but he does his best for you an it actually turns out well, and when you inadvertently compliment him he decide then and there he will walways be the one who makes your food. convinces himself he's the reason you're getting better in the end. and when you finally find a bit of rest? he finally lets his hands shake because he was worried. tiny over-reaction.

fulgrim: pff, dramatic? that's not fulgrim at all. convinces himself you've contracted the black plague for certain, but keeps up his happy appearance and tells everyone you're going to be fine anyway. no expense is too much, an array of possible things to make you better are presented each day, no matter how many times you tell him you don't need tiny rocks to make you feel better no matter how pretty they were. would probably need shutting down eventually and for you to tell him you would just like him, not everything he can offer. his heart practically melts at the thought, and even if you did have the plague, he'd still risk getting it to so he could revel in how much you wanted him around.

perty: hates more than anything that he can't fix it for you. probably spends more time away from you in an effort to cure whatever illness you have (because antibiotics could surely be more efficient), asking for four updates an hour from his sons. also probably thinks he's useless being with you, so there's no point with you. let's say you have enough of not seeing him and find him, sit beside him and watch him work. he wouldn't notice you at first, so focused on distracting himself from worry that shouldn't even exist to him. but when you place your hand on his, he freezes. what do you need? he'd ask, and when you say you need him, he short circuits for a moment. yes, of course, whatever will help. probably one of the first times he realised it was him that you loved and not his mind.

khan: there's not many times he would show his feelings openly. but he doesn't understand human weakness, certainly not something so mundane as being sick. so when he tries to imagine it in his head, he somehow inflates it to something far worse than it actually is. he makes an effort to keep light banter with you, even jest at how he'd never expected something like this to phase you. he'd want to let you rest, but when you ask him to stay, he'd be the first to sit back down and make sure no one was disturbing him for at least 24 hours. he'd talk to you until you fell asleep and stay by your side until you woke up. the second you feel better he tells you he always knew you'd be fine, but internally he's finally stopped worrying that he was going to lose you.

leman: laughed it off at first (nervously) because he knew you were strong. forgot you were not a primarch and could acually be defeated by something as small as a cold in the more dire circumstances. he'd be quite proactive in trying to get you to recover. no mopping around in bed all day when you could be having a warm bath or sitting beside him eating a good meal. somehow by trying to convince himself everything is fine and normal he becomes extremely efficient in making you feel better because you just feel... normal. but when you really have had enough, and you just want to rest, it only takes one look for him to give in. come here, little one, he'd say as he pulled you into his arms, resting his head against yours, you are strong, you'll be okay.

dorn: he may not have the words to say to you, but he's comfort incarnate nonetheless. he holds your hand, a bit (a lot) tighter sometimes when you show any symptoms of your illness. he asks for things to be brought to you that he knows will help (ie, soup, and even tastes it to make sure its the perfect temperature), he processes every bit of information logically so he knows what could possibly happens. accidentally focuses on the most negative side effects. a side effect of your medication is death? doesn't matter how many times you tell him they have to say that in case you have an allergic reaction, he's convinced himself of the worse. only recovery will remove this fear. is your personal guardian until you feel better regardless.

curze: has no clue what to do. is angry at you for being sick (he told you to wear a jacket when it was cold and this is what we've come to?). angry at himself for not being able to change it (because he should have held you in his arms and forced you to share his warmth). he could just go and check if you needed anything but that's too easy. life isn't that fair to him, there must be more to it. turns his attention elsewhere in ignorant bliss. returns to your bedside in time for you to wake up and still doesn't say anything to you, just watches. if you seem any worse he'll send someone, he's no help in this situation. no, he just goes and procures you a bunch of flowers and a gift to show his affection.

sanguinius: he already treats you like the most fragile thing in existence, so when you actually do show an ounce of weakness? he caves. he will not let you lift a finger. he will not have you bear a single thought without his support. you may just have a sore throat, he'd silence you with a kiss and speak for you, as if he knew exactly what you were going to say. he'd smile sweetly as he did everything in his power to ensure you were recovering (yes, he'd have someone check on you every ten minutes, even has an oximeter on you just in case...). type to lay beside you as you sleep, watch you so closely he can track each of your breaths, shield you from anything the outside world has to offer. and he knows you'll be fine. but whats a better excuse than this to treat you like he always wanted to.

ferrus: well you're not allowed to have anything happen to you, so good luck. he doesn't really know how to tell you anything else. you're not leaving me, he'd say as he sat beside me. and you can tell him over and over its literally just tonsillitis or whatever. he doesn't listen. its like him telling you over and over will somehow indoctrinate your body into listening to him. immediately begins looking into a way to make sure you're not susceptible to illness again, but never leaves your side. it would seem that vaccines need to be made stronger...that is how they work, if they were more effective, you would not be in this condition. how do you tell him you can't vaccinate against every single bacteria and virus. in his own arrogance of telling you you can't leave him, he doesn't worry too much.

angron: it was okay at first. then he really thought about it. he's unable to cope at all. please don't leave me he'd whisper in the dead of night. he's so quietly observant, seeing your fever get worse, how you reached for him as if you wanted him to help. please, my love, tell me you won't leave me. he knows you're sleeping and won't hear him, but he can't bring himself to say it at any other time. he just sits there, his legs and hands shaking, waiting for your fever to break overnight. there were a few times he felt utterly powerless and this was one of those times. and when he finally sees you open your eyes, how you seem just a touch better? every part of his body relaxes. he knows you're past the worst of it. he knows you won't leave him.

rob: brings in the best medicae he knows, stands behind them observing all their tests to ensure he is satisfied they know everything that's wrong and have a complete follow up treatment plan. basically becomes versed in medicine as well so he can form part of the discussions and reassures himself the best that can be done is being done. ignore that all you had was the flu. yeah it sucks but you'll more than likely be fine. he micromanages every part of your recovery alongside the medicae to ensure optimal recovery. does he worry? yes. but he hides it better than the others in front of you. outside your room? he's pacing. he's got about 5 action plans in the works for what to do if you start to feel worse, don't respond to the paracetamol, and if you do get better when he's not there.

morty: it wasn't very often that mortarion felt weak himself. but when you're sick? when he can't immediately take away your pain or your hurt? that's when he breaks. you were used to his blank stare 90% of the time and having to work out how he actually felt. but the second his voice broke, it was obvious - he was not coping well. because he felt responsible for you, keeping you safe, keeping you well, and he felt like he had failed you. he'd personally take control of your recovery. he'd spent each minute with you, never allowing himself to take his eyes off you until he knew you were well again. even if you told him you were okay, he'd shush you, still seeing that you looked tired or your hands shook a little. the only person he could ever trust to help you was himself, and its in this time you see the mortarion that existed behind all of the walls he built.

magnus: he can feel everything you can, so no point lying to him. every ache, every pain - you can't hide anything from him. and that makes it so much worse because he starts to panic even more. he's completely devoted to you and he's not afraid to show it either. he'd lay with you, cast illusions of grandeur to try to make you feel a bit better. craft stories to take your mind off whatever you're feeling. use ancient treatments to offer you any reprise he can. and when you do fall asleep? poor guy just falls apart. he's scared to lose you already and seeing you in any kind of weakened state really sets him over the edge. he's cry whilst holds you, he'd search every future he can to see an outcome. when you wake up and tell him you're feeling a lot better? his heart almost bursts with joy. such a soft huge guy its unreal.

horus: he says he's not concerned (he is) because he's seen men lose most of their body and still survive (yeah thanks for that). he doesn't leave your side though, opting to cancel every engagement he was meant to attend in favour of spending it with you. i know it will pass, sweetheart, he'd say as he wrapped his arms around you and kept you as close to him as possible, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, but i would rather be with you until i know you're okay. he cares deeply about you and he's completely obssessed with you, so of course he's going to worry - but he turns that into extra love for you.

lorgar: he first of all believes that this is punishment for something he's done wrong. he's convinced that the powers above, be it his father or something else, knew that the fastest way to hurt him was through you. when you explain its because you caught it off a serf (an immediately retracted admission because this poor serf was almost about to feel the wrath of a primarch in love), he questions it, but accepts it. he would not feel whole again until you were well - this literally breaks him inside (because he later convinces himself this was fate's punishment and blames himself). he's so caught up in his divine presentation of you that he forgets you are human, his worship doesn't make you invincible. don't expect anything practical from him, he's now making plans to actually make you a divine entity.

vulkan: praise to the one primarch who doesn't overreact. he understands the depths of why you're unwell (be it a cold, a virus, or something more serious) and tailors his approach perfectly, knowing exactly what you do and don't need. and you know his big warm hands are extremely nice to feel no matter what's burdening you. he will give you your space when you need it, especially when you're sleeping so he doesn't disturb you, and when you want his company? he's right there with anything you've previously told him you liked. hot water bottle, blanket, energy drink (poor choice but 1 is permitted), he would have it all. let me take care of you, he'd mumble, pulling you into his arms. perfectly normal reaction, really.

corax: acts like he doesn't care, but he does. sends medicae your way the second he sees a slight shift, even if its just your voice sounding a bit hoarse or if you wince when you move a little. stands at the other side of the room and listens to everything they say with great detail to ensure he carries out their treatment to the best of his ability. if its something small he can sigh in relief for now, but anything else would leave him a bit of a mess internally. because what would he do without you? how can he get through life without you by his side? immediately assumes the worst and becomes a silent observer. makes sure everything you need is at your side immediately when you need it - including him.

alpharius: you needed him so much that he liked it. you always kept your independence around him, but when you were sick? you asked for his help in everything. and he lived for it. so maybe he manipulates your recovery. you thought you'd feel better after a week, but 3 weeks in and you still don't feel 100%. the medicae tells you its just a stronger form of the virus you caught. must have mutated. you're not paying enough attention to notice how they glance at alpharius when speaking. i'll keep you safe, he tells you, locking your door behind him. its not like you could get up to leave anyway, the strong painkillers kept you in bed. i won't let anything happen to you, he whispers softly as he strokes your hair and holds you against him. i won't lose you, as he wonders how he's going to convince you that you're still sick when you have no more symptoms.

[junkpuppet225]

note: Daryl’s to stubborn to ask for help after an injury so you take matters into your own hands, literally. Daryl x fem!Reader, hurt/comfort, eventual smut (of course) and strong language. Early Alexandria era. Stay tuned for part two.

There is only one thing you’re certain of in this dying world. Daryl Dixon is stubborn. Annoyingly so.

Carol always took it upon herself to look after him, especially after everything he did to try and find Sophia in the woods near Hershel’s farm but the more time she spends with Tobin now the less time she has to coddle the archer.

…and the more trouble he finds himself in.

The first time you noticed him wince in pain you thought you imagined it. Just the slight furrow of his brow as Rick gave him a reassuring slap on the shoulder after an early morning - or possibly late night briefing, a meeting you watched from the darkness of Deanna’s gifted front porch sipping your morning coffee.

Something you never thought you’d get to experience again? A cup of hot coffee on a quiet front porch before the sun even breaks the horizon. It’s the little things that keep you going these days.

The second time you saw him wince the pain lingered in his eyes longer, radiated down his back and along his ribs on his right side. He forced a half-smile to whoever it was that greeted him but the little huff of air that escaped his throat was strained.

So you stared to pay attention. Watching him from the rim of your coffee cup every morning for a week and realizing whatever’s going on with his shoulder isn’t healing. If anything it’s getting worse. He slings his bow on his left side now, shys away from Carl’s enthusiastic high fives and keeps his distance from the larger than life men in our group who enjoy giving firm slaps on the back in greeting.

By the weekend you can’t take it anymore especially as you pass Aaron’s garage and see Daryl staring at a tool he desperately needs but unable to lift his arm to reach it.

Men.

“Are you alright?”

“M’fine.” He talks like a caveman, his words more grunts than syllables and he doesn’t look at you. Ever. Which means he deliberately avoids looking at you - for whatever reason. “Which one do you need?” You ask softly, looking down at the many shiny options.

“Third one over. From the left.”

“My left or your left?”

He only grunts his response as you pick up the correct wrench and hold it out in front of you. Just out of his reach.

“What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Nothin’. Said m’fine.”

“Okay.” You continue to hold the wrench just out of reach, forcing him to either extend his right arm fully or admit there’s something wrong with him. Your eyes go wide as he growls low in his throat and snatches the wrench from your gasp, unable to hide the pain that’s radiating through him now from his act of defiance. “Motherfucker.”

“Daryl.” You watch his eyes close as his name falls softly from your lips then he goes back to whatever it is he’s doing with his motorcycle. “Thanks, for nothin’.” He snaps dismissing you but you don’t move - watching him favor his right shoulder as he tries to tighten a bolt. “Fuck.” When the wrench clatters to the ground his eyes meet yours and for a split second you’re taken back at how blue they are. It’s not the first time you’ve seen them but it’s the first time he hasn’t quickly looked away. “Daryl something’s wrong with your arm.”

“You a doctor now?”

“No but you need to go see Pete. You don’t want it getting worse do you?”

“It’s fine.”

It’s nowhere near fine because you can see the tears in his eyes as he rotates his shoulder to prove the lie to you.

“Daryl—-.”

You watch him push to his full height, eyes glaring as he storms past you and out of the garage before you can say anything else. You’ll die on this hill - Daryl Dixon is stubborn as hell.

X

“Thank you Olivia.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to see Pete? He should be coming by anytime.”

“Oh, no. I think this will be fine but thank you.”

You hurry off from the kind woman in charge of inventory in Alexandria before she can ask anymore questions. The pain pills and muscle rub you’ve borrowed aren’t for you and you’re not sure if you can fool the doctor as easily.

Plus you may need them if Daryl punches you for not minding your own business but you can’t go another day watching him suffer. He’s one of the leaders of your group and what he does around here is important - at least that’s what you tell yourself the reason for doing this is. It has nothing to do with the way your heart twists in your chest every time you see him in pain.

You take a deep breath and knock on his bedroom door, gripping the items in your hand tightly as it opens and you’re staring into deep blue eyes once again. He looks utterly exhausted as his ocean eyes narrow when they realize why you’re here.

“I told ya m’fine.”

Daryl moves away from the door but doesn’t protest when you follow him inside and close it behind you - holding up the medications you’ve borrowed to try and help ease his discomfort. You ignore the fact that he’s shirtless and the way his borrowed sweat pants hang from his hips exposing a light brown trail of hair that disappears just below the waistband.

“Daryl, please let me help you?” He only grunts in response and sinks to the edge of his bed running a hand over his jaw before resting his elbows on his knees to lean forward. He doesn’t look at you he looks at the medication in your hand as you step in front of him and shake one of the bottles. “You can take one of these every twelve hours and one of these every four.”

“Why are ya doing this?”

You’ve asked yourself that about a hundred times on the walk over here but the answer is always the same.

“You’re important to me.”

You drop one of each pill in his palm and grab his glass from the nightstand, wrinkling your nose when you realize it’s whiskey. “Seriously? You shouldn’t mix—-.” Daryl grabs the glass brushing his fingers against yours before tossing the pills in his mouth and chasing them with a long drink. He sits the now empty glass back on the nightstand and lifts his eyes up to yours.

“Happy?”

Ecstatic. Nothing makes you happier than a rugged man-child who doesn’t want help from anyone but thinks a bottle of whiskey will eventually numb his pain. You make him no comment and sit the pills beside his glass. “This cream will help relax your muscles so you can get some rest just make sure you wash your hands after putting it on. You don’t want to get it in your eyes.”

You offer him the tube but he just stares at you like he’s seeing you for the first time. “…cant put that on.” His words are barely audible as he hangs his head again. “Why?” You turn the tube over in your hand making sure Olivia gave you the right thing but his next words lift your eyes quickly. “…it hurts to much to lift my arms right now.”

An ache fills your chest at the pain in his voice and the shame in his words. Dixon men don’t admit they’re hurt and they sure as fuck don’t ask for help. “Okay.” Is all you say before tossing the tube to the mattress, meeting his confused expression as you move to his side and crawl onto the bed.

“Ya don’t… have to do this.” His words are almost desperate, back going rigid as you place your hands on the tops of his shoulders to steady yourself behind him. It’s painfully obvious he doesn’t enjoy being touched and once you see the large raised scars across his back you can see why.

“I know I don’t have to. Where does it hurt?”

Your eyes go wide as he whispers everywhere, tightening the muscle in your chest with realization. This is worse than you thought.

“Okay.” The word barely reaches his ears as you run your fingers along his shoulder to get a feel of how bad he’s hurting. You’re no masseuse and you don’t want to make anything worse but he needs this and there’s no one else to do it. Daryl’s head dips back down as his breathing gets more ragged and you stop just before you get to his bruised ribs. “What happened to you?”

“Fell.” He grunts as you grab the tube of cream and warm some between your hands, watching his back rise and fall with each labored breath. When it doesn’t seem like he’s going to elaborate you press your hands to his skin and slather the cream along the tight muscles receiving a low rumble of relief from your patient. “Lost my footin’, fell down a fuckin’ ridge - again. Dislocated my shoulder…, maybe broke a few ribs. Least I didn’t fall on my fuckin’ bow this time.”

Your hands still on his back as the words vibrate in his chest and he clears his throat with a humorless laugh. “Were you alone?” You hate the way your voice shakes with worry - he’s obviously okay, alive at least but the thought of him out there alone and hurt fills you with dread. It always has. “Nah. Aaron was a few miles back.”

“…and you didn’t tell him?”

“Why would I?”

A sigh of frustration rushes from your lungs sending a shiver over Daryl as your breath mixes with the menthol of the cream. There’s so many things you want to say - to yell at him for being so damn stubborn but you bite your tongue and work your hands along his shoulder carefully, watching them relax with your touch. “T-thank you.” He mutters with another deep grunt. For helping him. For not bitching at him. “You’re welcome.” You whisper and watch him shiver again as you both fall into a comfortable silence - your fingers pressing and moving down every line in his broad back then tenderly across his shoulder.

A sharp hiss escapes him making you stop suddenly and frown. “Sorry.” Maybe you should stop. This may be causing him more harm than good but the soft sigh that leaves his chest brings your warm palms back to his skin. “….s’alright, feels… good.” Your knees idly sink into his hips as you straighten your back and start again, caressing his shoulder then digging deep into his back as he falls forward slightly and groans.

“You sure?” You can’t tell if the sounds he’s making are from pleasure or pain but either way they bring you closer to his back. “Y-yeah.” A quiet strangled noise escapes him as your fingers glide over one of the scars across his back and the air in the room all but disappears. You want to ask about them but the tension that’s returned to his muscles stops you, bringing your hands back to his shoulder. Suddenly things feel awkward, to quiet. “I can help you work on your bike if you want? My dad was a mechanic. Didn’t have a mom so I spent a lot of time with him in the garage.”

You’re not a mechanic by any means but you know the difference between most tools and you can turn a wrench. Daryl grunts and you’ve come to learn that usually means okay while the low throaty growls mean no. Your hands idly move up his neck, thumbs working the tight tendons loose just at the nape and the sound that leaves him goes straight to your core. It slows your fingers and makes your heart beat faster in your chest. Daryl’s shoulders drop another inch as your fingers work into his hairline then he leans back into your touch with another deep moan.

Okay. That’s enough for tonight. You’re almost certain he can feel your heart thumping against his back as you try to put some space between the two of you.

Daryl clears his throat and sits up straight when your fingers finally fall away, unable to look at you yet again. You ignore the tinge of pink that crawls up his neck and the way he places his own hands carefully over his lap.

“Any better?”

All he can do is nod quickly and mutter another word of thanks. “You need a shirt to let that cream get good and hot.” You watch his blue eyes lift to a worn discarded t-shirt lying across the back of the chair in his room and take in a deep breath to steady your nerves. That pain from before lingers in his gaze, watching helplessly as you gather the soft material in your hands and hold it out for him like he’s a child, guiding his sore arm into a hole before helping with the other then pulling it over his head. His breath catches in his throat as your fingers absently brush along his abs and you whisper a word of apology before backing away quickly.

“Okay. Try to get some rest? Come find me tomorrow if you want my help with the bike.”

You turn to leave - to give him some privacy while he licks his wounds. It’s obvious having to dress him like a toddler has knocked his masculinity down a notch but as you put some space between the two of you he reaches out and grasps your wrist with his a calloused hand. “Thank you.” He says more firmly this time, eyes searching yours as you smile and nod.

You don’t move until his fingers fall from your wrist then you cross the room and disappear into the hallway as quickly as you came.

[vodika-vibes]

Okay so I had a thought.

So imagine—

You work at the Senate, your job is important but you're one of a dozen people who do this job day in and day out. And somehow—miraculously—you've managed to catch Fox's eye.

And it's great! Fantastic even! He's kind and considerate and completely devoted to you and your happiness, which is great, because you're just as devoted to him.

There is one, little bitty problem.

You don't get paid enough.

Oh sure, you've made it work, with some heavy budgeting, but Fox doesn't get paid. So if you want nice-ish dates you have to pay for then.

Which, again, is fine. He's worth it, but it does leave your end of the month bank account looking at little...bare.

So, what are your options?

You could ask for a raise, but you'd get laughed out of your boss' office.

You've never been much of a crafter, so a side hustle like that is out.

And you respect Fox too much to even consider any kind of sex work. Not that you have anything against it, but you'd want to talk to him about it first, and you absolutely do not want him to know about your money issues. So that's out, too.

And you've never been good at gambling, so that's off the table, too.

So you think and think, and then you remember. There's an underground, very illegal, fighting club that accepts participants of all ages, genders, species, and skill level. And the pay is very, very good.

You did martial arts as a kid. And only stopped when you were in college because of a lack of time, so you might have a chance of winning a bout or two. And if you're careful, Fox will never find out about your illegal fights.

You win your first fight, and the next three after that. Earning enough to go on several dates with Fox and have money left over for your rainy day fund. And so, the fights become a regular thing, once or twice a week.

You win more than you lose, but you do lose every now and then. So you have to learn to treat your injuries before Fox can see them. His head might very well explode if he knew you were fighting for money.

But Lady Luck has never favored you, and it was only after a matter of time before the club ended up getting raided by the Corries.

Which is how Fox finds you, sitting in a holding cell with several of the other fighters, all of you several different types of beat up. You have an ice pack pressed against your eye and a split lip, and when Fox stands there and stares at you, you can't look him in the eyes.

"I...can explain?" You offer hesitantly, not actually sure you can explain.

"With me." Fox's words are clipped as he let's you out of the cell, and you trot after him.

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because you're using your 'I'm mad but I'm trying not to show it' voice."

He pushes his office door open, "In."

You slump, "Yeah, you're mad."

He slams the door shut behind you, and motions for you to sit in a chair, before he plucks the ice pack off your eye, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I like fighting!" You blurt out, a blatant lie that he doesn't believe for a second.

"Try again."

"Uhm..." he arches a brow, and you look away, "I needed the money."

"For what? What's so important that you had to put yourself in harm's way to get money for?"

"I...stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff."

"If you don't tell me the truth I'm going to assume you're cheating on me." Fox says bluntly.

"I would never!"

"So tell me."

"I...can't afford our dates."

He blinks. Twice. And then leans back slightly, "Come again?"

"I don't get paid a lot and my apartment is expensive and I can't afford your dates but you're important enough that I want to keep going on them, so...fighting."

"You...are the dumbest smart person I've ever met." Fox finally says, "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug, "Didn't want you to worry or whatever."

"So you made me worry more?"

"...I didn't say it was a good idea. Just the only feasible one I had."

He sighs, "I love you, but I'm so mad right now."

"Fair."

"No more cage matches. No more fighting. Promise me."

"I promise."

"We can work out something different for our dates. And next time, just talk to me. Please."

"Yeah. Yeah. Can I go home now?"

"No."

"...what?"

"You're going back to the holding cell."

"WHAT?"

"You're spending the night. You'll be released in the morning. Just like everyone else."

"I...but...Fox!"

"Thems the rules, cyare. Here's your ice pack back."

You stare at him, speechless. But he just smiles at you as he motions for Thire to return you to the holding cell.

[slutoru1207]

Wildflowers

Warning: This story will involve emotional conflict, heartache, and bittersweet moments that may be heavy and triggering. It explores themes of loss, fear, and the fragility of love in the face of impossible responsibilities. Proceed with caution, 2,902k wc.

The first time Mark kissed you, the world felt like it could finally be still. He was Invincible, a hero to the world—yet when his lips touched yours, for a brief, impossible moment, he was just Mark. Just a boy who loved you.

You remember that moment like a dream. It felt like the calm after a storm, the kind of serenity you could almost touch. He had always been your wildflower, free, untamed, growing in places no one could imagine, but to you, it was simple. You loved him. He loved you. And in those quiet moments, in the spaces where he wasn’t Invincible, he was yours.

But now?

Now, everything is different.

You stare at him as he stands in the doorway of your apartment, his back turned to you as if he can’t bear to face you. The bruises on his skin, the blood on his suit—he wears them like a badge, but you know, deep down, they’re eating away at him. The weight of it all. The responsibility. The guilt.

He doesn’t speak. You’ve tried talking to him, tried reaching through the distance that’s been growing between you, but the words never seem enough. Every time you try, he pulls away, even if just a little. Even if just enough to break your heart.

“I’m fine,” he says, as he always does. “I’m just... tired.”

But you can hear the lie in his voice. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in the way his eyes no longer shine with the same light that used to make you feel like you were the only thing in the world.

It’s been like this for weeks. Months, maybe. Since he left for the battle against the Viltrumites. Since the war became personal.

You thought you knew what it meant to love him—to love someone who had to fight, to protect, to save. But this... this is different.

Every day, he slips further away from you. Every day, he becomes more of a symbol and less of a man. Less of the Mark who once held your hand in the dark and whispered promises of a future you both wanted.

And it tears you apart.

“Mark, please.” You step forward, your voice barely a whisper, but you feel the weight of the words. “Don’t push me away.”

His head turns slightly, just enough to show you the exhaustion in his eyes. But there’s something else, too—something colder. Something that scares you more than any villain ever could.

“I’m not pushing you away.” His voice is steady, but the words feel like glass, fragile and ready to shatter. “You deserve better than this. I can’t keep doing this to you.”

You blink, confused and hurt. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not good for you,” he admits quietly. His words hang in the air, sharp and painful. “You’re... You’re a wildflower, and I’m just—” He shakes his head, cutting himself off before he can say more.

Your heart tightens in your chest, and you don’t know how to respond. The metaphor stings because it’s so true. You arethe wildflower, the one who’s supposed to be free—unbothered by the storm around you, unburdened by the weight of a world that’s always demanding more. But Mark? Mark has always carried the world on his shoulders. He’s always been the one to take on everything, even at the cost of himself.

“You’re not a burden to me, Mark,” you whisper, stepping closer. “I don’t care about the world. I care about you. I’ve always cared about you. I’m not asking you to be perfect. I’m asking you to stay with me.”

But he turns away from you again, his body language closed off. The space between you seems to grow, as if some invisible force is pulling him farther away, no matter how much you reach.

“You don’t understand,” he says, his voice breaking for the first time. “I can’t keep you in this world. I can’t protect you from it.”

And then it hits you. You’ve always known it, deep down. That Mark wasn’t just fighting the Viltrumites, or aliens, or other threats—he was fighting the part of him that wanted to be your Mark again. The boy who wasn’t Invincible, the boy who could laugh and hold you close without worrying about the next fight.

But Invincible has always been the one who wins. And in that battle, you lose him.

“Mark,” you choke out, your voice trembling, “please, don’t leave me.”

But the truth is—he already has.

He’s already gone, slipping between your fingers like sand.

And no matter how much you love him, no matter how many times you say his name, you can’t hold onto him.

You can’t keep him.

He’s too far gone.

The tears fall before you even realize it, and you hate yourself for it—hate that you’re crying in front of him. Hate that he has this power over you, even when he’s slipping further away.

And just when you think you’ve lost him for good, you hear it—the sound of his footsteps, tentative, careful. You feel his hand, warm and steady, against your cheek.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly. “Please. Don’t cry.”

But it’s too late. The tears have already fallen, and they’re carrying with them every fear, every hope, every promise you’ve ever made to each other. You hold his hand against your face, silently begging for the comfort you know you can’t have.

“Mark, please,” you whisper again. “Please don’t leave me.”

But the words are useless. They always have been.

The silence between you and Mark is suffocating. He doesn’t say anything as he kneels down in front of you, his hand still gently cupping your face. The warmth of his touch is almost enough to make you believe everything is going to be okay—almost enough to convince yourself that he hasn’t already decided to let go. But the doubt lingers, thick and heavy.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he says quietly, his voice cracking on the last word. He wipes a tear from your cheek with the back of his hand, and the gesture feels like a small, fragile attempt to hold onto something that’s already slipping away. “But I am.”

You shake your head, refusing to let him continue down that path. “No, Mark. You’re not hurting me. You’re shutting me out. You’re pushing me away, and it’s killing me.”

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead gently against yours. You can feel the weight of everything he’s carrying in that touch, the burden of the world that he feels he has to bear alone. You want so desperately to take it from him, to make it easier, but you can’t. You’ve never been able to.

“I’m not enough for you, Y/N,” he admits in a whisper, his words like a knife to your chest. “I’m not good enough to be the man you need. Not when I’m constantly risking my life… not when I’m constantly torn between what I want and what I have to do.” He pulls away slightly, his hand dropping to his side. “And I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. But if I stay, I know I will.”

You look at him, tears streaming down your face, and you realize just how much pain he’s in. The weight of his choices, the sacrifices he’s made… it’s too much for one person to bear, and yet here he is, trying to do it all alone.

“Mark,” you choke out, voice trembling, “You’re killing me by leaving. I’m not afraid of the fight, or the pain. I’m afraid of losing you to the weight of everything you’re carrying. I can’t live in a world where you push me away to protect me from yourself. I love you too much for that. I want to stand beside you. Whatever comes, I’ll be here.”

His face crumples at your words, and for a moment, it feels like you’re speaking to a stranger. Someone who’s too broken to understand. You see it in the flicker of doubt in his eyes—he loves you, but it’s as if the love itself is a curse, a ticking time bomb. And he’s too scared to let it explode.

“I want to be the man you deserve,” he says, his voice barely a whisper. “But I don’t know if I can be him.”

“You already are,” you reply, your voice soft but firm. “You are the man I love. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You don’t have to be invincible for me.” You pause, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just want you. I just want us.”

Mark’s face contorts in pain as he tries to hold back his emotions, but it’s clear he’s losing the battle. His body shakes with the weight of it all, and he collapses to his knees in front of you, his hands trembling as he reaches for you.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he confesses, his voice raw, barely audible. “I’m scared I’ll never be enough. I’m scared I’ll hurt you. I’m scared I’ll lose you. And I don’t know how to stop it.”

The vulnerability in his words shatters you. It hits harder than any battle he’s ever faced, harder than any villain he’s ever fought. This is the truth—this is what he’s been holding inside, locked away because he’s afraid of hurting you. But the irony is, by trying to protect you, he’s already lost you.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” you repeat, your voice thick with emotion. “You just have to be you. You’re enough, Mark. You always have been. And I don’t care about the world… I care about you. I care about the person I fell in love with.”

And as the tears fall freely from both of your eyes, Mark’s hands tremble as they reach for you, pulling you into his arms. You hold onto him like you’ve never held on to anything before, as if this moment will slip away the second you let go.

You feel him tremble in your arms, feel the way he breathes shakily as if he’s been holding onto his emotions for too long. He buries his face in your neck, his tears wetting your skin as he tries to muffle his sobs. You can feel the weight of his guilt, the crushing burden of his love for you that he’s too scared to let flourish.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he murmurs, the words broken, almost desperate. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” you promise him, your hands running through his hair as you hold him tightly. “You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, Mark. I’m always going to be here.”

But even as you say those words, you know that this moment can’t last forever. The world outside is still waiting for him to be Invincible, and no matter how much you wish it could be different, he can’t escape that. Neither of you can.

You don’t know what comes next. You don’t know if this will be enough to heal the rift between you, or if it’s just another chapter in a long, painful story. But in this moment, as Mark holds you and cries in your arms, you know one thing for certain: he’s still yours, and you’re still his.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

For now.

Mark's arms tighten around you, as if he’s trying to hold you together, to keep you from falling apart. His breath is shaky against your skin, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart, but it’s broken. It’s fragile, trembling under the weight of everything he’s been through. And you know, deep down, that this moment—this rawness, this closeness—might not last long.

He pulls back slightly, his hands gently cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of your tears. His eyes search yours, desperate for something, but you’re not sure what. Hope? Reassurance? Or maybe he’s looking for a sign that he hasn’t already destroyed everything you’ve built together.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

You place your hand over his heart, feeling the frantic pace of it, the intensity of his emotions. You can feel how much he’s holding inside, and it breaks you. He’s not just battling the Viltrumites, the threats to the world—he’s battling himself. And he’s losing.

“Mark,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, “you’re not hurting me by loving me. You’re hurting me by thinking you’re not enough.”

He shakes his head, his eyes glazed with pain. “But I’m not, Y/N. I’m not what you need. I’m not even sure I know who I am anymore. I’ve been so focused on saving the world, on keeping you safe, that I don’t even know how to be the man you deserve.” He takes a deep breath, and the pain in his expression is so raw, so real, it’s like a physical blow to your chest. “I don’t even know if I can be the man you want me to be.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. The truth is, Mark has always been the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and now he’s carrying the burden of your love, of his doubts. And it’s crushing him.

You take his hands in yours, grounding him, willing him to hear you. “Mark, you don’t have to be anyone else. You don’t have to be anyone other than the person you are. I love you. I love you, even in your brokenness. Even when you’re scared. Even when you feel like you’re failing.” Your voice shakes, but you push through the fear. “I don’t need you to be perfect. I need you to be real with me. I need you to be here. With me. As yourself.”

He looks at you, his eyes wide with uncertainty, and for a moment, you wonder if he can even believe you. He’s so used to fighting, so used to winning, but this is different. This fight isn’t against an enemy; it’s against himself. And no matter how hard he tries to deny it, you can see it in his eyes. He’s afraid of losing you, and he doesn’t know how to handle that fear.

“I can’t promise I’ll be perfect,” he says quietly, his voice trembling. “But I’ll try. I’ll try to be the man you need. I’ll try to be with you, Y/N. I just—” He cuts himself off, his breath shallow. “I just don’t want to hurt you anymore. I don’t want to drag you into this chaos. You deserve so much more.”

You pull him closer, your forehead resting against his as you close your eyes, letting the rawness of the moment settle between you. “Mark… I’m already in this chaos. I’ve always been in it, from the moment I fell in love with you. But I’m not leaving. Not now, not ever.”

Mark’s hand trembles as it moves to your hair, pushing a strand away from your face as he looks at you with a tenderness you almost thought he’d forgotten. “I’m so scared, Y/N. I’m scared of losing you. I’m scared of everything.”

You reach up and place your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm. “Then we’ll be scared together,” you whisper. “We’ll be scared together, but we’ll face it. We’ll face whatever comes, side by side.”

The weight of the world feels lighter in that moment, and for a brief, impossible second, it feels like you’ve found the balance between the man he is and the man he wants to be. But you know the truth—it’s never that simple. The world doesn’t stop turning because you wish it would. The fight will always be there, waiting for him. And you’ll always be waiting for him, too.

But for now, in the quiet of this moment, there’s peace. There’s a promise. A fragile, beautiful promise.

Mark leans down, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a second, you close your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch. You feel the love he’s too afraid to give, the love you’ve always known was there. It’s enough. Just enough.

And then, as if the weight of the world finally catches up with him, he whispers, “I love you, Y/N. I always will. Even when I’m not enough… I’ll always love you.”

And you know that even if the world crashes down around you, even if the battles never end, that love will be enough to carry you both through. Because sometimes, all you need is the truth—that no matter how broken, no matter how lost, love is always worth fighting for.

i was listening to Wildflowers by Billie while writing this <333

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Discovery and Progress (part 5)

Previous | Masterpost

The next two days were uninteresting, school didn’t hold his attention but he spent more time with his family and on the ‘family business’, putting their worries at ease. He, Sam, and Tucker had their study session and they were able to fill in any gaps for him about what he’d missed while he was distracted or dozing off. Hopefully this would work well going forward and compensate some for his extra curriculars.

Friday night he pulled Bruce aside after dinner to talk to him privately, because the one thing he hadn’t thought of that week was a better way to get Bruce off his trail.

“Do you have time to schedule a bit of a meeting with me some time this weekend?” He asked his father softly.

“Of course Chum,” Bruce agreed looking worried. “You can always talk to me, if it’s urgent you don’t have to wait till this weekend, I can make time now.” He offered, it probably helped that Danny rarely asked anything of him, so this request was probably alarming.

“No it isn’t urgent, and I’d rather do it on one of my days off,” Danny assured, fidgeting with his fingers a little as he spoke. 

“Then tomorrow is fine, how about 10 am?” Bruce asked, for the bat family that was first thing in the morning, but Danny was a little less nocturnal then them (at least on paper.)

“That sounds good, but don’t set an alarm. You need sleep and if you sleep in we can just do it later,” Danny requested.

“Of course,” Bruce lied, they both knew he was going to set an alarm. Danny had never doubted Bruce cared deeply about his children, he wouldn’t miss one of his more independent children Asking to talk to him. “Will you be going out with us tonight?”

“In spirit,” Danny said with a wink making Bruce crack a small smile.

“That reminds me, you were talking about changing your code name into something ghostly, did you settle on what you want to be called?” Bruce asked, no longer keeping his voice down since this wasn’t private.

“Well, I know it’s a little cliché but I looked into a lot of options and I really think I just like Phantom,” Danny admitted, fidgeting a little bit.

“That’s just fine Danny, we’ll spread the word around,” Bruce assured, ruffling Danny’s hair before walking away, probably to go prepare for the night. There was nothing big planned for today, but that didn’t mean that nothing big would find them and Batman liked to be prepared.

Danny helped Alfred clean up and then followed the family down to the bat cave and dusted off his sorely underused station. It was a shame he couldn’t duplicate himself to be in two places at once.

------

Even though Danny had already thought about and written out what he wanted to say to Bruce he still spent a good part of the night going over it and tweaking the plan. Not that he would stick to it, he couldn’t bring out note cards during their talk! It needed to seem like he was speaking from the heart, this was just to deal with his anxiety about the talk. He wouldn’t be surprised if Bruce was doing just about the same thing, coming up with theories about what Danny had to say and how to properly respond. Would the truth be better or worse then Bruce’s theories? He might even have got it right, Danny was trying to be believable not surprising.

Come morning he was, once again, blurry eyed and listless, picking at his breakfast without eating to much. Again Damian gave him a worried look but didn’t ask. Bruce was there too, looking more alert then Danny but he didn’t think he was imagining that the bags under their fathers eyes were a hair darker then they usually were. Bruce hadn’t slept well either, he was just more used to functioning on so little sleep. Danny would have to get used to it too eventually, right?

Bruce at least could drink coffee, Danny was still resisting because he didn’t want to end up as short at Tim! Who was currently on his third cup, but given that him being up at this hour meant he probably hadn’t slept at all that made sense. Danny would have to ask what it was Tim was working on later, it was usually interesting stuff.

After breakfast Bruce hesitated before approaching Danny. “Do you want to get it over with?” He asked, which wasn’t flattering phrasing but Danny understood.

“Ya, we’ll just keep worrying about it if we don’t,” Danny agreed getting up from the table. Normally he’d stay to help Alfred clean up, the thought made him hesitate and he looked towards the kitchen.

“I will assist Pennyworth,” Damian said in a clipped tone, which Danny really appreciated. Damian was a bleeding heart as well, a truly kind person. It sometimes amused Danny in a bitter way that Damian was a truly good person who pretended not to be to protect himself, and Danny was the exact opposite. Not that he was evil just… not as good as his twin, or the rest of the family really.

“Thanks Dami,” Danny said simply. Dick would have made a full production about how he knew Damian really did care, but Danny didn’t want to fluster his brother.

Danny followed Bruce up to the office, sometimes it was easier to have serious conversations in a serious environment. There were different places for different conversations, casual, in front of a movie, in the car where there was a good excuse not to make eye contact, or across a desk.

Danny sat in the comfortable armchair across from Bruce who sat in his desk chair leaning against the desk. He made sure his laptop and everything was shut down, flipped over the papers on his desk so they were blank faced up, no distractions. When he was ready he looked back at Danny with a little smile, an invitation to share whatever was on his mind.

“I just wanted to get ahead of this because I think my teachers will have concerns at the next parent teacher conference,” Danny admitted folding his hands in his lap and looking down. He wasn’t sure about that start because it implied he might keep secrets, but Bruce did know Danny wasn’t as well adjusted as he tried to seem. Bruce hummed encouragingly. “I’ve been falling asleep in class, I’ve been having a harder time focussing and it’s because.. I’ve been having more nightmares, about the my death, the Lazarus Pit, and the League of Shadows as a whole.” He ran his thumb over the back of his opposite hand, a small self sooth.

“I didn’t before, but I did some research and apparently people often have these symptoms when they regain safety after a traumatic experience. The emotional effects get worse before they get better. I think that taking a step back from the night life was both a symptom and a cause, I stepped back because I was already struggling, and it just gave me more time to struggle. This is not me requesting to do more, or heaven forbid actually go Out with the rest of you. That might work for Damian and Tim but I… Well, you don’t need to worry, I’m managing it and working through it on my own. I just wanted to keep you apprized in case my teachers do call you.”

Bruce had listened quietly, and stayed quiet for a little while afterwards, considering his response no doubt. Bruce was a man of few words when he wasn’t being ‘Brucie’, and the words he did say were carefully formulated.

“I know you value independence, but you don’t have to do this alone you know.” Bruce said after a long moment.

“And what? I’m going to tell the school guidance councillor that I died and was resurrected by my grandfather who runs the largest assassin ring in the world? Or did,” Danny added. He and Tim had devastated their numbers while Bruce was lost in the time stream. That was something Bruce hadn’t asked about much because he knew he didn’t want to know.

Bruce winced a little and shook his head. “No, I mean the family-“

“None of us know how to process emotions in a healthy way and we all have a ton of trauma, I’m not asking any of you to help me with this.” Danyal said firmly, Bruce winced again.

“There are therapists approved by the Justice league, you could talk to them about everything without worrying about confidentiality,” Bruce said, a little more hesitant this time.

“Have you been to see them,” Danny asked dubiously, eyeing his father suspiciously.

“Well, No, But-“

“Then no thank you,” Danny said rolling his eyes.

“I vetted all of them! I may not have been to see them but I do trust them. If you need to talk to someone I promise they’re a good option.” Bruce said, in a tone that was edging on desperate to those who knew him well.

“If all of you can deal with your problems on your own so can I,” Danyal said tilting his chin up defiantly. “I may have decided not to be a hero but I could be! I’m not any weaker then you!”

“It’s not weakness to be hurt Danny,” Bruce said gently.

“You don’t believe that,” Danny said, looking Bruce straight in the eye, not an accusation or a question, just a fact.

“Danny, I-“

“No, Don’t lie! You don’t mean that! Batman can never get hurt because it’s a sign of weakness! That’s why Dick wears the suit and pretends to be you. Because it’s a sign of weakness.”

“That’s not.. Danny I don’t think it makes anyone weak! Especially not you! None of us will think any less of you for needing help.”

“But none of you need help? I’m not going to be the only one,” Danny said just as defiantly, his jaw clenched.

Bruce’s shoulders slumped a little as he seemed to understand what Danny was getting at. “And if I go with you? Will you go then?”

Danny paused as if considering it, as if he hadn’t already made up his mind about that before the conversation started. “Yes, if you, or any of the family go with me, I’ll go. Besides Damian, he should go too but I’m not ready for that. Our trauma is to similar, and we play to heavily into it for each other. We were so hard on each other then,” he sighed heavily slumping back in his chair.

“I understand Danny, I’ll talk to him. He probably won’t go unless I do too so I guess I’ll be getting double doses,” He said wryly. “I’ll bring it up at the next family meeting too. It’s long over-do.”

“It is,” Danny agreed, shifting to the edge of the seat, ready to leave.

“You did that on purpose didn’t you Danyal,” Bruce asked, that name had Danny sinking back into his seat instantly. Suspicious and anxious, Bruce almost never used his proper first name. “You know none of us would go on our own, but we’d go for you. Even Tim will for you.”

“I’m not-!” An aborted denial, before he took a breath and actually considered his words. “Yes, I did it on purpose,” He sighed, running a hand back through his hair. “I’m not lying, but I admit before I talked to you I thought about the most… advantageous way to bring it up.” He bit his lip for a moment, shame and defiance warring for pride of place. “We all need help Bruce, I’m sick of this. I’m sick of you and Dick fighting, I’m sick of Tim never sleeping because of the nightmares and insecurities he won’t talk about. I’m sick of no one talking about Jason! Having this dead brother I know nothing about hanging over all of our heads!” Bruce flinched, Danny took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

“Bruce- Father, this is Our family and we’re constantly tearing ourselves apart. The world is hard enough on all of us which is why we still cling to each other even though half the time we don’t actually make it that much better! I just- Is it a fucking crime to want this family to get better!?” He snapped and was immediately ashamed of his outburst.  This wasn’t some movie, one where some plucky young person would show up to show the broken and sad family how to have fun again.

“I’m sorry this is stupid, forget about it we don’t need to go to therapy,” He said grumpily and went to get up only for Bruce to almost lunge across the desk to grab Danny’s arm. And let go immediately when Danny flinched back into his chair.

“No, no Danny it’s not stupid. It’s okay, I promise I’m not mad and I don’t think you’re lying. You’re right that we need help. I’m sorry I made it sound like that was a bad thing. If anything I’m glad, that you haven’t given up on this family and you care enough to try. Thank you.”

“Oh,” Danny sounded, blinking at his father, the show of support and approval was unusual. At least so explicitly, Bruce almost always tried to support them but he had a hard time saying he was proud of them. Which was basically what had just happened right? “Thank you, dad,” Danny said with a genuine smile. “Oh course I care, more then care. I hope this will be good for us.”

“I’m sure it will, I’ll contact one of the league therapists and discuss it at the next family meeting. You’ll have to back me up, I don’t think Dick or Tim would go for me,” Bruce said with a sardonic little smile.

“I will,” Danny assured, getting up from his chair again, this time Bruce didn’t stop him. “Thank you for making time to talk to me.”

“Always Danny, I know it doesn’t always seem like it, but nothing is more important to me then this family. I’ll always do my best to support you, even if I don’t always get it right.”

Danny nodded and gave his father another smile before slipping out of the room, that was enough emotions for both of them and he needed a nap.

He consciously avoided the rest of the family as made his way back to his room. He got back without being spoken to and slid inside, closing the door softly after himself with a soft sigh. He collapsed onto his bed with a little groan, throwing one arm over his eyes to block out the light and breathing deeply. He refused to let himself think, pulling his mind back to his breath every time it wandered, meditating without the stupid uncomfortable sitting position. Letting his nerves and emotions settle before he could try to make sense of them.

He flinched violently when there was a knock on his door, he groaned loudly and sat up, he hadn’t finished processing! He wasn’t ready for more. “Is it an emergency,” Danny asked dryly.

“No,” Tim’s voice came back sounding hesitantly. “But I brought hot chocolate.”

Ah, if there was one thing Alfred had instilled in this family it was hot drinks as a love language. Tim must have been more worried then he let on to make Danny hot-chocolate, that wasn’t just pouring a second cup of coffee he was already making, that was specially for Danny. He sighed softly, well, he couldn’t let a perfectly good hot chocolate go to waste. He got up from bed and went to open the door. Tim was holding to mugs, and held out one of them to Danny, the one with the little green cartoon ghost.

Danny smiled a little as he took it, and turned back into his room, leaving the door open to silently tell Tim he could come too. He followed Danny, nudging the door closed behind him and going to sit in Danny’s desk chair, spinning it around to face where Danny was sitting on the edge of the bed. He looked down as he took a sip of his coffee, Danny cradled his mug of hot-chocolate and waited patiently for Tim to speak.

“Are you okay?” Tim asked finally. “You’ve been tired lately, and you’ve been pulling away. Which would be normal for most of us I guess but you’re… you. You haven’t spent any time with me in the lab for months.”

Ah, Danny had been so busy in his private lab in crime ally he hadn’t spent hardly any time in the one he’d been sharing with Tim. Internally he was kicking himself for being sloppy but he only let out a soft sigh. “I’ve been having a hard time Tim, I’ve sort of given up. I was trying so hard to find a way to synthesize the Lazarus Water but it’s been years and we haven’t made any progress. I’m still dependent on the league, and I’m starting to really hate that stuff. I don’t want to work with it anymore, or anything really.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to Bruce about. That I’m… depressed, maybe traumatized. He’s going to get me into therapy, we were going to talk about it at the next family meeting because, honestly Tim, I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“Well then it’s a good thing you don’t have to,” Tim said firmly. Danny was surprised by how quickly and confidently Tim said. “I’ll support you. I’ll even go with you if you want me too.”

“Thank you,” Danny said with a soft smile. “That means a lot.”

“Right,” Tim said with a firm nod, getting up from the chair. “I know I’m not exactly the most emotionally intelligent, and that’s saying something in this family. But you know I’m always here for you right? I’ll try to be a good big brother.”

“You are a good big brother Tim,” Danny promised with a little smile. “I know you are, I just wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

“Right. Good. Come back to the lab sometimes? We’ll put the Lazarus water away and work on something else. Or maybe just blow some stuff up,” Tim said, hopeful and awkward.

“Sure, that sound fun Tim. I promise I’ll come back to spend time with you soon. Judging by the way you were muttering to yourself at breakfast you must be working on something interesting,” Danny teased Tim lightly.

“Oh I am. Come check it out when you’re ready,” Tim agreed with a crooked smile. He gave Danny a little wave as he left again.

Danny watched him go and then put his mug of hot chocolate down and collapsed back on his bed with a sigh. He hadn’t expected Tim to notice anything was off. He had underestimated how much his family knew him, both with Bruce realizing that he was manipulating the situation, and Tim having noticed that something was wrong. Danny hated making mistakes like this, they always made him wonder what else he missed, and what else his family had seen.

He rubbed his face and ran his hand back through his hair letting out a soft groan. Well, he had been the one who decided to keep secrets, it was necessary, but it was still a choice. He could do this. He could do it all. If there was one thing that his childhood had taught him it was that he could do just about anything, tolerate just about any amount of pain and discomfort temporarily. This only had to hold until he had built the portal, and then… well he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

[racingghost]

Moodboard Week | Day 6

"Prince" and the frog AU

Sebastian sat down on the twisted old root of a tall tree. It stood close to a small water stream that flowed with so little fuss it couldn’t even be called a river.

There lived a tiny swamp creature he fondly baptized as Frog, even though one could argue it was in fact a toad. A brown, bumpy, and bored looking one at that.

“Hey frog, how’s it going?”

“Bwoah.” The toad croaked its usual response.

Sebastian was expecting it. The reason he went out of his way to visit the rendezvous spot every day was because he weirdly felt like the amphibian could understand him. Every time, the frog would croak back at whatever Seb told him, like there was a proper conversation between them.

He sighed. Probably wasn’t something to brag about, given how he struggled to talk to actual people without coming off as a massive weirdo. Heck, he was chatting with a frog, so maybe the judgement of his high school peers wasn’t completely off base. 

“That’s good.” Seb stretched his legs. “At least one of us is having a good time.”

“Bwoah.” Came the usual answer.

“Oh it’s not much.” Sebastian continued. He cared little for how nonsensical the interaction was, especially now that it’d become a habit. “It’s just that the girl I like laughed when I gave her a Valentine’s postcard.”

“Bwoah.”

Seb couldn’t say he didn’t do his best to get people laughing, but the memory of Gina’s was a tad cruel. She didn’t find him funny in a charming, whimsical way. Rather, she made it abundantly clear she thought he was delusional.

“I guess she’s cool, and pretty, and I’m… me. A geek.” He shrugged, settled with the facts. “Of course she’d laugh, can you imagine?”

“Bwoah.”

“Girls don’t like class clowns like me. I mean, look at me. I’m talking to a frog.”

“Bwoah.”

Blue eyes fell on leathery brown skin, amused. Had Frog been a cute puppy, maybe he could have gotten some positive attention, but as it was, even his choice of animal companion would send the girls running.

…Then again, there were a few fairy tales that treated frogs favorably.

“Unless, you know…” He contemplated. “I kiss you and you turn into a princess.”

“Bwoah!”

The loud croak made Sebastian laugh out loud. He knew it was stupid to give animals human attributes and imagine they felt real outrage, but sometimes the frog was so much like a person it was easy to forget it wasn’t a rational being.

“You’re right. Who would want to kiss something as gross and pimply as me.”

“🐸” It stayed silent this time.

“You won’t mind, then?” Seb leaned down to give the frog a gentle scratch with his finger. “If one of these days I get desperate enough, I might try my luck and give you a smooch.”

He had no intentions to, of course.

Little did Sebastian know that words could be prophetic.

[coulsons-fullmetal-cellist]

Your Vampire: Chapter Eight

He Loves, She Loves

(Max Phillips x f!reader)

Words: 1, 310

Summary: going back to work after such a wonderful weekend may prove harder than you thought

Warnings: saucysuggestions, the worst ex in the world, mild swearing, no y/n, reader has nickname Garland, Max being a lovable menace

Check out masterlist here

“Sure you don’t want to just take the week off?”

“Oh no, we missed one day which means I have a lot to catch up on. And we’re already in the car.”

“We could just have sex in the car and…”

You stared at Max, “We are going to work.”

“You know, you’re sexy when you’re bossy,” he leaned in, but you stopped him.

“Max, no.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The two of you were a little late getting into the office. You discovered Max was rather amorous upon waking so resisting his exquisite ministrations proved difficult. It was nice being woken up with kisses for a change. Max also turned out to be quite the cuddler. It could be something to do with his cold, undead body seeking the warmth of your warm, definitely-not-dead body.

As you always arrived together, even though you were holding hands, no one suspected the change in relationship.

“Max, you don’t mind,” you gestured down to your held hands, “this do you?”

He stopped and said very seriously, “You’re the love of my life, my soulmate, the woman I want to spend the rest of eternity with. I do not mind holding your hand.”

“Okay, just checking,” you smiled. “We can’t use cute nicknames around the office though.”

Aw,” he pouted. “But I wanted to annoy everyone with how in love we are!”

Going back to your separate work after being together all weekend felt odd. It felt lonely. You decided to look for an excuse to see him in his office. As soon as you poked your head through the door, you were immediately pulled through into Max’s office.

“I have a question about the-” you were cut off by his lips pressing into yours.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Well, I was going to ask about the-” but again, he cut you off with a kiss. “Max, I have important business with you.”

“And I have very important business with you,” he tried to nuzzle at your neck, but you pushed him away.

“Max,” you said to his pouting face. “I think we should keep things professional while we’re at work.”

“And I think I should bend you over my desk and have my wicked way with you.”

“I think we need to go over the rules again.”

“I hope to go over them with you seriously,” he raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a little early, isn’t it?”

“You didn’t think it was too early when you woke up with my head buried between your legs and giving you your third orgasm.”

“That was nice, better than my alarm clock.”

“I volunteer to be your alarm clock from now on.”

“Wait, aren’t there cameras?’

“Not in this office.”

You playfully tried to resist his further advances while letting his hands wander around your body.

It was at this moment Jacob decided to walk into the office without knocking. You tried to break apart from Max, but he held you firmly by the waist.

“Oh,” said Jacob with the most obnoxious tone. “I thought banging wasn’t allowed.”

“Oh, there’s no banging…yet. And you’re one to talk.”

You left his grasp, “I’ll leave you two alone.”

“You complete me!” said Max after you.

As you started to leave the office, you tried to avoid the glare of Jacob. Max solved this by firmly grabbing him by the shoulder.

“So, I hear you’re unsatisfactory in bed. Not to brag, but I can make her scream my name with my tongue alone so imagine what I can do with my-”

“Max, no,” you warned.

“Yes ma’am.”

Retreating back to your office, you found plenty of work to get on with. You didn’t get through much when the door slammed open and Jacob stormed in.

“Max Phillips? Of all people?”

“Why do you care who I sleep with?” he looked like he was going to respond with something snarky, so you continued. “You cheat on me while I’m sick and then dump me when I get sick, so you have no right to criticise me.”

“You can’t talk to me like that.” This was a tactic he always used on you, but you were tired of this behaviour.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said with sarcasm. “I’m sorry I’ve bruised your ego. I’m sorry you’re such a self-centred asshole that you decide to cheat on my while I’m sick.”

“Well,” he retorted. “You were distant, you wanted nothing to do with me. You were too busy to give me time.”

“Too busy? I was sick! I was busy going to doctors to find out why I was sick so sorry for not giving you some attention,” he was going to give some excuse, but you cut him off. “All I’ve done is support you. I made sure you passed every exam; I made your resume look good to get the best job. But as soon as I needed help, you abandoned me. It’s taken me this long to realise that you are a gigantic douchebag.”

This speech gave you some confidence, but now looking at the fury in his face, you were afraid. Thankfully, Max came in to save you from this monster.

“Hey J-man. I hope you’re not slacking. You still have that presentation coming up.”

Jacob attempted a stare down but had nothing on Max. He smacked Jacob on the shoulder. “There’s a good boy.”

“Whatever gets me closer to my promotion,” he tried to sound tough. “Good luck getting on the waitlist, they have strict requirements,” he walked away with unearned confidence.

“Oh, his ignorance is almost adorable,” he noticed you were trying not to shake. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

He gently lifted your head with his finger, “Remember, I love you. And if he ever thinks of laying a hand on you I’ll…”

He was interrupted by a scream coming from the secretary desk. Cidnee had pushed away whatever was in front of her and rushed off to the bathroom.

“Did you add something to your sandwich?” asked Max.

“Chilli flakes,” he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Seriously, she needs to stop eating my food.”

“I love your approach. And I love you. I’m taking you out for lunch and then later, I’m eating you out.”

“That part will have to wait until we get home.”

“You sure you don’t want to take today off?”

“Go, get back to work.”

“You’re sexy when you’re bossy.”

“Max, no.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You held Max’s hand as you made your way to the car. The both of you were looking forward to the weekend. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jacob leaning against the wall. He struggled to make his way over to you. You knew he had gotten back into day drinking.

“Look at the two freaks,” he slurred, putting away his hip flask.

Max put himself between you and Jacob. “I could make a joke about only being freaks in the sheets, but you wouldn’t get it.”

Jacob just stared in drunken confusion so the two of you continued to the car.

“I hope you enjoy her worthless barren body,” he called after you.

Before you knew it, Jacob was up against the wall being held up by Max, his face twisted into monstrous anger.

“You take that back!”

“Max, please,” you put your hand on his arm.

He closed his eyes, took a breath and reluctantly let Jacob go.

“You’re not worth the paperwork,” he said to a quivering Jacob.

You gently took his hand and led him back to the car. He sat for a moment before saying anything.

“Are you okay?” he asked, holding your face in his hand.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. What about you?”

“I wanted to punch him in the face, but he pissed his pants.”

“Good. So can we go home and cuddle?”

“Absolutely.”

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Lovingly tagging @chaithetics @cevans-is-classic @galaxyedging @letsgobarbs @peepawispunk @missladym1981 @kirsteng42 @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @ericamarie093 @yorksgirl @popcornforone @allthe-ships @clowncummiess @permanentlydizzy @readingiskeepingmegoing @elegantduckturtle @grogusmum @ellenmunn

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this cliff took more lives than i could on my own im losing it

[orcelito]

Had a moment of listening to music I liked back when I was a teenager (& still like) and having a whole. Realization . That I like myself as I am now sooooo much better than I like teenage me. And I started thinking about Why.

There's a lot to it I'm pretty sure, & most of it centers around the fact that I just... didn't really know who I was as a person. I didn't really have hobbies outside of what I did in school (aka orchestra) and like. Video games + anime. I did creative writing in middle school, but dropped off in high school for... some reason? I still made original characters and played around with them a lot, but it was mostly just in drawing and thinking about them. I never actually *wrote*, and I in fact didn't get back into creative writing at all until I was 23 years old. I was someone who had spent so long hiding behind others and just doing what I was told that I just... didn't have any real direction. I didn't know what I even *wanted*. I thought I knew, but in hindsight, I can confidently say that I didn't. I was just an insecure teen drifting through life and not thinking about things beyond what was immediately in front of me. Which is pretty standard for teenagers I guess, but not all of them. Not at all.

Compared to now, where I have Many hobbies, most notably being writing. As I am now, I am just Intrinsically a writer. And it's weird to remember that I wasn't even really *writing* before 5 years ago (besides text rps, which did a lot for developing my writing skill! But still aren't a replacement for writing individually). As a teen, I wasnt into dnd, I was incredibly out of shape, & I was a lot less aggressive and focused. I was the type to avoid sports!!! I hated them!!!! But as I am now, I Love biking and can easily bike for an hour+ no problem (I remember being a teen and trying to go on just 10 minute bike rides in the summer and just *dying* from it), & I love working out. I wanna be strong!!! I LOVE being strong!!! And I was an absolute mess with things like public speaking & working in groups, vs now where I can do an impromptu presentation no problem & I'm often the unofficial leader in group projects bc im typically the one who does the organizing and allotments of work. A side effect of working as a supervisor and then assistant manager for so long. I have a lot more confidence in my perceptions and judgements, & I have the self-assurance to assert these things. And this is only really the tip of the iceberg with all the differences.

I just feel like an entirely different person, almost. The cores are the same, or at least damn near similar, with the things I want out of life & the sorts of things I enjoy, but it's like. The difference between finding a random rock off the side of the road & then that rock when it's been sanded and carved and decorated to be something individual and unique. You look at them side by side and it's something dull vs something shiny and intricate. The origins can't be ignored and dismissed, & I certainly would never resent younger me for just doing the best with what I knew at the time. But it's just astounding how much difference time and experience will have for growing and developing as a person. Things I consider integral to my personhood weren't even thoughts in my mind back then. We are almost entirely different people.

[spacedlexi]

trying to keep all my clemviminnie thoughts contained until i get to episode 3 but

its hard

[abnormalpsychology]

thrilling sequel to my poll from back in January

[tenok]

The point (one of them) is that both Aziraphale and Crowley actually think they the smartest one in any given situation. And since I relate to Aziraphale much more today I get fixated on his brand of superiority. He starts his journey with rebellion from pretty tame "I don't get why they makes this desisions and it's look horrible on surface evel but I'm sure that they get best ineterests of everyone involved in their hearts and it's probably me the one that didn't get some oblivious detail" to "oh okay I'm sure it's some kind of misundestanding and we can all talk it out as adults because we there work on same goals" to frustrated "they won't ever listen to me and I will get in trouble for arguing and it will be better for everyone if I will make my desisions in secret and go behind their backs because I just can't let THEM make desisions that will destroy everything". It's not straightforward, I'm 30 and still circulate sometimes between "what if it's me the one that wrong aout everything" and "god HOW people can be THAT stupid", but I remember going throught this stages first as good and obedient kid with really stupid parents making stupid desisions and later with school, govermnet, activist spaces etc.

And the problem is, I was the smartest person in the room enough time to develop issues, and Aziraphale lives like his for 6000 years at least. I can only imagine how many times he thought "if only Starmaker listen to me and didn't Fall", "if only God listened to me and didn't make an Apocalypse happen", "if only Heavens listened to me and didn't did this or that that thing", "if only Crowley listen to me and understand in what kind of danger we can get", "if only that human listened to me and haven't dig the body", etc etc. It's awful, to be the one who always gets to say "I told you so", especially when there's such awful consequenses you can't even feel satisfaction, and you will be the one to clen this mess up (and Aziraphae will clean, or better try to prevent). Now, it's of course leads to issues. BIG issues.

1) It's really hard to stop being plotting and maciavellian and communicate things properly when you expect that person will at best argue with you, at worst punish you and double down on their stupid desisons and you will clean this mess up. It also really hard to stop trying to control everything because you already accepted that everything is your responsibility and everyone else would just make things worse. (as someone that relates to Aziraphale I think he did so much progress there, the levels or trust he shows Crowley are amazing for two beings that probably last time heard of psychotherapy when Freud was alive. but such trust is fragile thing, one misstep and you back on your "it will be better if I do everything alone" bullshit. I'm not saying it's good. I'm also not saying that it's bad. it's just how things work)

2) It makes you overstep other people authonomy, because, again, it would be better for everyone if they did what you think best for them. It works funny wih Aziraphale because yes he's all for free choices for humanity!! NOW GO AND DO SMART CHOICES DAMN YOU!!! WHY YOU DON'T PICK THE THING THAT WOULD BE SMART TO PICK I HATE YOU ALL. That's where me and Aziraphale difer a little because at least I somewhat good at stepping into other people shoes and understand why they do what they do. But angel there is autistic (or bad at this specific thing for other reasons), so I think when people he consider reasonable doesn't agree with him for their own reasons he ge's really baffled, like, there arE correct opinion and it's mine, WHY are you being difficult?? to spite me?? And I'm sure that half of the reason why Aziraphale's so comfortable with Crowley is that he perfectly happy to let him buly or manipulate him into doing things Aziraphale picks as right. Usually Crowley know where pick his battles and how to play long game to make Aziraphale agree for really important stuff he wants from him, but otherwise? Sure he will complain how he hates Hamlet but they will watch Hamlet, and Aziraphale will be very pleased with himself. (and than there goes final fifteen and we back at "but WHY won't ypu agree with thing I pick or us IT'S GOOD AND RESONABLE THING" and we should be happy that consent is something that imporant for our angel ok? he would be angry with Crowley for picking wrong but he won't make him do what he doesn't want. they respect each other like that.)

3) It makes you really really tired and tense. You control everything, unfortunately the longer you do it the more things starts really depedend on you, you can't let go, you don't know anyone that can share this burden with you because first they should prove that they won't blow his up and for this you should share at least something with them, but what is they would blow it up? Better be safe than sorry. And look when it's my problems it's credit cards and doctor appointmens and with Aziraphale we talk about people dying. Crowley dying. Now, as I said, he actually shows Crowley so. much. trust. for someone with such issues. Because Crowley was there for 6000 years, and he proved himself capable enough times. But still there's areas where let go and not worry would be impossible for Aziraphale, Crowley's safety being one of such things (you see, you can risk with your life when you deal with your problems because whatever you will clean shit up if needed, but if someone close to you hurt themself?? it's YOUR problem too but it will be SO MUCH HARDER to clean. I think when Aziraphale points to Crowley that hell would be harder on him than he can expect heavens to punish him, it's partially because he believes it's true and partially because he knows how to minimize harm when heavens angry with him but HOW can he do this for Crowley??). Anyway. Lol. The more I think about it the more I sure that Crowley without Aziraphale would be a miserable angry dick, and Aziraphale wihout Crowley would be dead, because it was the one person that kept him one tiny slip away from total burn out.

So yeah there's a lot of posts about how angry heartbroken etc Crowley will be with Aziraphale (I don't agree but that's for other post), less posts about how sad and heartbroken will be Aziraphale, but I hope to see Azyraphale being angry too (it they will be angry with each other at all). Not only for not picking him or leaving or making everything messy and emotional and wasting their first kiss at their fight etc, but also because Aziraphale was trusting him! Trusting that he get another resonable adult in team with him! Someone who he can trust to make resonable desisions and see his ideas as clever and him as capable and being willing to go to the end of the world with him with mild complaints and than!! When he did trust him to understand!! He was like everyone else!! Unresonable and emotional and angry with him and why he asked him at all he should've do it secretly and alone as always and it would've be as usual and it wouldn't hurt but it was Crowley that taught him to trust and to ask him for help!! Breaking his perfectly fine coping mechanisms!! It's all his faut if you think about it huh?? (but of course he's already forgiven. but also Aziraphale would do what he needs to do alone this time, as one and only capable adult in the world.)

Anyway it's not a meta it's just some late night thoughts. And it's in no way whole analizis there's so much more problems inside this angel. It's just something in particular that resonated with me today. Also it's not in any way critisizm of him, mind you, because a) he does really the smartest person in the room most of the time and b) I LOVE how fucked up in the head he is!!! I think he needs to become even more fucked up actually!!! and Crowley should love him for that and I will cheer for him from sidelines!!!

[cherry-shipping]

this is like the most niche thing ive ever imagined with an f/o but i like thinking that papyrus could call my bluffs really easily when no one else can. specifically UMM self care and health bluffs? i dont really lie about it. i just intentionally leave stuff out so people dont worry? like, if someone asks "have you eaten today?" ill be like "oh yea i ate before i came here! ^_^" but then i tactfully leave out the part where the only thing i ate was, like, a piece of candy i found on my floor or something and prior to that i hadnt eaten for a week, and things of that nature. and people never ever realize when im bluffing which is convenient for me but obviously Bad in general, but. i like imagining that paps of all people can just sort of innately Tell when im hiding something or skewing the truth just a little bit

[queenerdloser]

so based on past yearly data, it sounds like some of the schools i applied to will probably start doing responses as early as next week, which means i'm about to become like the most stressed anxious lap dog of a person who has ever existed when it comes to checking my email