#i'm going to dominos today only thinking about this

[coconutdays]

seat taker

s. you have a crush on the smartest and sexiest guy in your lit class who happens to ride a motorcycle with spooky season around the corner. what ever might happen?

w.c. 10.6k

w. fem! reader, biker!geto! x reader , fluff!, smut! (its more so toward the end so u can read until it cuts off to that lol if u want)

a/n: based on this idea I posted about biker!geto from uni lol, I didn't really proofread so ill get to that sometime later after I shower and eat lol just wanted to get this out

"go sit next to him then."

you take a nervous gulp from your water bottle as you walk to your lit class. the effort was a bit clumsy considering you were using one hand to open and close it while the other held your phone, your friend on the other line.

"never, would I ever have the balls to do that. i may be confident but I am not as delusional as the caveman gym bro that took your seat so he could sit next to me in anthropology."

she laughs on the other end, a hysterical giggle at your backtalk.

"well then he's just gonna keep thinking you're creepy cause you stare."

you let out a haughty scoff, "as if I acknowledge his existence." a finger of yours goes up in the air, as if she could see you being a smartass about your discretion, "I never look at him. I only get in a glance or two when he asks the professor a question or when he raises his hand to answer a question."

"you're insane."

"unfixable." you sigh prettily and proudly before giving a more serious response to her first suggestion, "and it would be really awkward if I sat next to him either way. the class is packed and everyone has their assigned unassigned seats, the white haired guy that always sits next to him would probably push me off his seat if he ever saw me there."

"that is true. some girl did that to me in stats and I was like ??? have you not been sitting somewhere else this entire semester? pissed me off that I had to sit somewhere else and take someone's seat."

you're about five seconds away from your lecture hall door when you add to her complaint.

"right. and then that person looks at you funny cause you took their seat and then argh–its just a fucking domino effect." you turn around and take a step into the class, the sight before you bringing emphasis to the last words that you meant to finish off with, "fuck seat takers..."

"huh. what was that last part?"

your classroom is full. every one of the 200 seats are seemingly just taken. it's a sight you're not used to when you walk into class. normally, when you decide to go in, about half of the class is there, and you were starting to curse the fact that you gave yourself the luxury to finish the last of your reading for next week ahead of time. those ten minutes didn't seem like they'd make a difference, they sure do now...

with white haired guy sitting in YOUR seat.

its across the lecture hall from where he normally sits, next to Geto, who just so conveniently has an empty seat next to him, the only empty seat.

poker face, poker face, poker face.

it's all you repeat to yourself as you walk up the carpet steps to the row where Geto is sitting and try to continue the conversation with your friend.

there's no white noise, some people are typing away at their computers and others are chatting with the person next to them or near them, so it gives you room to explain yourself a little without being heard.

"everybody's already in class, and white haired guy is in my seat dude, and guess which seat isn't fucking taken." there's an edge to your voice, however it lays undetectable with your calm face.

"WAITTTTTTTT. AHAHA–"

you can feel your body heating up in nerves when you start walking between Geto's row, to the seat next to him.

"stop f/n. I am on the verge of committing a serious crime. I'm going to actually end up in handcuffs by the end of today. the–"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA." She keeps laughing at you as you force yourself to not care that you're pulling out and sinking into the chair next to Geto. If he acknowledged you, you wouldn't have known, his mere presence something you deleted from your mind in order to process the current events before you right now.

a high pitched and drawn out HA is the last of her laughs you hear before she speaks again, "I basically manifested this for you. you should be thanking me."

"fuck your manifesting. I'm not excited for this." you don't care to filter your voice into a whisper, it stays at its normal tone even though you're next to Geto because he didn't even know what the conversation was about anyway.

you balance your phone between your shoulder and cheek while you begin to take out your iPad and journal for class.

"ask him for a ride on his motorcycle after heh." she pokes at you and you feel like you can hear her poking out her tongue in malevolence.

even though you're slightly grumpy at your predicament, you manage to make a comment accompanied by a sigh, "with the way midterms are looking, id need a different kind of ride."

"you can ask him for that too~"

"shut up, you menace."

"hehe," she strikes evilly, "well, I'll leave you to your class with your boyfriend."

"no, stop, the class doesn't even–"

"bye!"

and she hung up on you, leaving you to flip mindlessly through your notebook while you try to ignore the presence of the hot hot hot piece of sexiness next to you.

suguru geto has been at the forefront of your mind for weeks now. you had always slightly admired him from afar, considering your actual seat in the lecture hall was across the room from him. he was undeniably attractive, with his long black always tied up in a bun and clean outfits. and his intelligence, he was always one to garner thoughtful debates in class in response to the professors teachings. his calmness towards everything was enough to make you swoon at the thought go him being that patient with you too.

and his stupid motorcycle, the thing that made it all click for you.

you had been walking to the library after class to meet with your classmate to work on an anthropology presentation when you caught a glimpse–stare–of him getting onto a motorcycle and pulling a helmet over his head before he quickly rode off to wherever he was going. for some reason, it really got your gears grinding and wishing you could just jump this man and do some truly desperate things.

he was all you thought about after. none of the other cute guys in your classes could hold a candle to the being that is suguru geto, renouncing you into a pining mess that looked forward to every lit class–even though you pretended you didn't care for him.

god, what even was the point in all of this if you weren't ever going to make a move? if he just SPOKE to you first maybe you could get some rizz in–

"you have pretty handwriting."

"I–what?"

you perk up like a deer in headlights at the sudden voice of Geto, wondering if you're the one he's speaking to.

and he is, he's spinning a pen between his fingers while he looks at you, slightly gesturing towards the journal in your hands, your cursive covering the pages of it.

"oh!" you're still caught off guard, doe eyes in the face of his sudden and scary, to you, comment, "thank you. can't even read it sometimes though, it's like trying to understand another language when I have to study what I write after."

he smiles slightly at your comment, a whisp of his dark hair swaying near his right eye, "I think it'd be cool to try and translate."

you resist the urge to curl into a ball and wish he would just look away from you, but you persevere, holding out your journal to him.

"be my guest." you say without hesitance

he sets his pen aside when he grabs it, immediately flipping through the pages and starting to skim through your notes, his eyes moving side to side as he does. you get a good view of him while he goes about trying to decipher your writings. he's wearing a black shirt today, it's not exactly tight, but not loose either. it gives you the perfect view of his arms bulging a bit, his biceps' size is an eye sore for you.

he's wearing these black stud earrings too, only visible because of the bun that he keeps his long hair. you wish you could see how long his hair actually was sometimes, he had never worn it down to class.

"looks like I'm more versed in your cursive than you are." he glances at you, a faint smile on his lips

your eyebrows raise a little and your eyes widen, "what? you can read it?"

he closes the journal and slides it to your spot on the very long lecture table. geto then leans over to your side a bit, close to your ear, and starts to point across the room to his white haired friend.

"see that idiot with the pitch black glasses?"

the question sends chills down your spine, the proximity making your heart race.

"y-yeah."

"silver spoon baby. learned cursive when he was four and it's basically incomprehensible unless you've been sharing notes with him since high school."

a laugh flows out of your lips, etching a smile on your face. your shoulder slightly bumps into his chest from it before you turn your head to directly face his.

"and I'm taking it that you're well versed in his cursive then too?"

he looks at you with a slight dreaminess in his eyes, his height still domineering over you even if you were both seated next to each other.

"have to be, would have failed lots of class projects if I didn't"

you take the opportunity to poke about the whereabouts of his friend in your seat now that he's been mentioned.

"and why's he sitting over there then?" you blink up at him for a response

at this, geto sinks back to his original position on his chair, face a million miles away from yours now as he goes back to fiddling with his pen.

"he's...trying to flirt with the girl he's talking to right now." he shakes his head a little, although there isn't much of a disappointed look in his face, it's more entertained. he was probably used to his friend's antics by now.

"ah. at least it looks like she's into it." you dispense the weight of your head onto the palm of your hand as you look at his friend with him, "could not have been me."

"what?"

you don't turn to look at him as you respond, "this Andrew Tate gym bro took my friend's seat to sit next to me in my anthropology class the other day. tried speaking to me like those guys who swear all you need is a computer to become a millionaire. worst ninety minutes of my life."

you hear a puff of a laugh from geto

"I can guarantee you Gojo has better skills than that. he's probably talking about his Halloween party for this weekend."

you flip your head to look at him suddenly, "he's that guy?"

every big party that everyone talked about on campus was always held by Gojo. they had numerous amounts of beers and liquor bottles. always the best music, the best hookup stories, the best snacks, everything. you hadn't put a face to the name until now, although it should've clicked when you found out Geto's name. his was always being paired with Gojo, as some would put it, two pretty best friends.

geto could see the gears turning in your head and his eyes creased a little at your realization in a smile, "yea, that's the guy."

you're a bit taken aback by his confirmation and turn to take another look at gojo before looking back at geto.

amused, geto speaks again, "by all means, go for it, he's–"

you quickly shake your head and stretch out both your hands to frantically do the same, "no, god, no. i'm not into him. it's just I didn't know that was him. I always hear good things about his parties."

geto nods, "he has an affinity for making sure everyone has a good time. you ever been to one?"

you shake your head, "never, haven't had the chance to or been invited."

"you should go to the Halloween one." geto suggests, gesturing his pen in your direction before going back to spinning it around his fingers, "you know where it is?"

you shake your head again, now completely facing his direction, the attention you were giving to his friend gone and now placed on him.

geto gestures towards your journal and reaches for it, "may I?"

you nod, curious at what he was going to do.

he flips the journal and opens the very last page, guaranteed to be blank and begins writing something on it.

when he pushes it back to your side of the table, you can see what he's written now, an address.

"that's where the frat house is."

you wiggle your eyebrows a little at him, "you in the frat too?"

geto laughs fully this time and shakes his head, "no. I have my own apartment. that's just gojo's thing."

you acknowledge him and look over the address written on your journal, "I'll think about it. have to wear my costume somewhere right?"

"what is it?" he tilts his head curiously, genuine interest in what you would choose to dress up as.

you try to bite back the smile at the knowledge you have of your costume and choose to leave it up in the air for him, tapping your journal on his shoulder.

"now that is something for you to find out if you see me at the party."

just how it's entailed in mean girls, you dress up slutty for gojo's halloween party. you wore a playboy bunny costume, close to one of the sluttier things you can wear, but it's rare recently for girls to wear as opposed to the trendy fairy and angel costumes lately.

although it isn't exactly halloween yet, its the first out of the two parties gojo was holding in honor of the holiday. next weekend there would be another one on the actual day, but you didn't know if you'd go that one yet, you were going to see what this one was all about though.

you brought your friend with you, hooking her up with the address geto provided you because she had been aching to go to one of gojo's parties too.

your eyes light up when you see geto's sleek black motorcycle parked near the garage as the both of you walk to the door.

"god, there's so many people inside." your friend all but screeches in excitement and you would too if it weren't for the nerves of impending doom that geto, your everything crush and classmate, was going to see you wearing this.

the chills that come from the thought make you rub your shoulders for heat as you walk inside and the blaring of the music becomes even more booming now that it isn't being shielded by the walls of the house.

"where do you think the drinks are?" you try to speak up, a trace of small worry at bumping into geto laced in your voice.

she raises her head up and looks around to see where she could spot the alcohol until she starts dragging you by the hand, "the kitchen is over here I think!"

she pushes the both of you past clusters of people, paving the way for her desire for vodka and it makes you bump into someone a bit roughly.

you try to voice out your apology quickly as she keeps dragging you along, looking back at who you just bumped into.

it's geto.

his eyes show mild surprise, not one for entirely showing his emotions, they're widened a bit and he looks a bit taken aback while his eyes rake up and down your body–still being dragged away. he's not wearing a costume, sporting a white t-shirt and jeans instead.

the words of apology you were going to utter fall off as you make eye contact and realize it was him you bumped into, he who just got an obvious look at your costume.

you're glad the speed of your friend makes the interaction short lived due to her lightning speed in suddenly bringing you to the kitchen, which is lined with beer and liquor of all kinds, every space of the spacious kitchen taken up by alcohol.

you hurriedly reach to serve yourself a cup of strawberry vodka, hoping that the first sip and those after might make your nerves dilute. when you turn around to talk to your friend, who's probably already served herself straight flavorless vodka, she's being flirted with by her anthropology club crush. she gives you a quick glance, a combination of 'oh my god oh my god' and 'sorry' being communicated to you.

you smile at her knowingly and point towards where everyone was dancing and talking, marking that that's where you would be while you left her to go as far as she wanted with the boy in front of her.

you're halfway through the crowd to make it to the patio when a voice is suddenly in your ear from behind.

"is it as cool as people say?"

you jump at the intrusion and cradle the cup of vodka to your chest and look at who just spoke to you.

it's geto, exactly behind you, his large frame towering over your body and leaned over so you could hear him.

you're stopped in your tracks and turn around to face him now, trying hard not to feel intimated by your basically half naked right in front of him.

"yeah!" you nod

geto turns his head a little from his spot at least a foot above you and leans down again, at level heads with you

"sorry, say that again." he looks at you earnestly, wanting to be able to properly hear your answer with the loud music echoing into your ears and his.

"I said yeah! I didn't know parties could be this packed!" you say, taking a nervous sip from your cup as you look at him

"what happened to your friend?" geto keeps his posture the way it is to keep talking to you

"the guy she likes started talking to her!" you exclaim past the loud blare of music.

"ah." he nods, taking a quick glance to the kitchen and spotting your friend smiling eagerly at the guy in a jason costume in front of her. "what are you going to do then?"

you blink cluelessly, haven't actually thought about until he asked you.

"dance!" you look around the room so he could look with you. bodies pressed against each other and bodies dancing by themselves all across the room.

geto smiles and straightens himself before reaching a hand out to you and gives you a look of 'wanna take it?'

you can't help the bashful smile that makes its way to your face as you hesitantly take his hand. he softly brings you closer to him, not as close as the other horny bodies in the room, but it's a little intimate and makes you feel intoxicated. he puts his other hand high on your waist, making sure to avoid the sluttiness beneath that line of your torso considering your outfit, and he starts to sway the both of you to the music. he holds you to himself with you hook an arm over his shoulder and use the other hand to hold your drink, singing along to the music with a toothy smile.

it was playful, the interaction with him, a fun setting between the both of you. the combination of that and the large heap of strawberry vodka you served yourself and managed to finish by the second song with him were the reason for your increasing comfortable nature with him. you were laughing and laying your head on his chest frequently through your endless bursts of energy and gasping breaths for relief.

he was smiling throughout the entirety of it, never getting too comfortable though, and keeping his hands where they had originally been.

"I just wanna be one of your girls tonight!" you sing at the top of your lungs.

geto lets go of one of the hands encircling you and instead reaches for one of the hands splayed across his shoulder and chest, caressing it with a thumb.

you tug at him a little with your other hand and he leans down to hear what you're about to say.

"wanna get drinks?" you ask, craving a sweet hard seltzer instead of another pour of vodka.

"you want something?" geto asks you back

"are there any strawberry drinks?" you blink up at him

geto looks like he's thinking for a second, trying to remember the usual drinks his best friend caters, before he nods, "yeah there are. want me to get you one?"

you nod eagerly at him and follow him to kitchen. he had taken a hold of your hand when he noticed you were going to accompany him, he didn't want you to struggle getting through all those people.

he had been bent over to look through a cooler on the floor before he stood up and held out a strawberry daiquiri to you, "here."

"thank you." you nod before you jump and sit on the countertop so you could rest and drink

you notice geto doesn't have a drink in his hand when he leans against the kitchen island in front of you.

"you didn't want a drink?"

geto shakes his head calmly, "gotta drive back."

"oh." you remember his motorcycle from earlier near the garage and strike another question so he doesn't know that you know he has a motorcycle. incredible logic.

"what kinda car do you have?"

"ah, not a car, a motorcycle." he smiles slightly, the answer was humble

"oh~"you drag out–as if it was new information to you–and continue drinking from your bottle.

"you have a ride back home though?" geto asks, crossing his arms over his chest so he could be more comfortable while listening to you.

"uhh," you reach for your phone and see a message from your friend asking if it was okay for her to go to McDonalds with her crush, "well I was going to uber with my friend, but she just had a change of plans."

"I can take you home." he offers genuinely, tilting his head in await for your answer.

"In your motorcycle?!" you blurt out

he starts laughing heartily at your answer and smirks at you when he speaks again, "never been on one?"

"no." you shake your head, a bit intimidated, "what if I fall. im literally naked im gonna get cut up by the road."

geto smiles at you, "that's a fair concern, but I'll give you my helmet and let you borrow my jacket, it's big, it should cover you up a bit no?"

although the alcohol leaves your brain empty, you think it over which involved nothing but staring at him in supposed 'thought' before you nod, "okay."

"can I give you my number? so you can send me your address?" geto asks, shuffling a little bit closer to you

"mhm." you hand your phone to him and watch as he types away into your phone before he hands it back to you. when you stare back at his contact name, suguru geto, it makes a dawn of realization wash over you.

"you don't know my name, rig–"

"y/n."

you do a double take at how fast he says it and his eyes crease at your reaction.

"what?"

"you get involved in the lectures a lot." he takes note for you

"oh." you sink back into yourself

"do you know mine?"

you shyly respond with a, "yea, you get involved a lot too..."

"good to know." he grins a little, watching as you take the last sip of your drink and gesturing back towards the dancing scene, "wanna go back?"

"yeah." you confirm softly, taking the hand he gives you so you can get off the countertop smoothly. and when your feet touch the ground, you yelp, "ow ow ow ow!"

the hour of pure dancing and jumping around had not been a good rival for your new and tall heels. they were a height you had walked before, but the shoes themselves were new and not worn in, causing a great deal of pain across your entire foot.

geto held you by just below your armpits, the worry he had seeping through in his widened eyes and his leaning over to see if he find out what was wrong with you.

"what's wrong?" he asks quickly

"the heels," you scrunch up your nose in pain and sigh, "they hurt like a bitch now that I got a bit of rest."

you can tell geto feels bad about your pain by the way he grimaces for you and plants you on the countertop again. he suddenly kneels down and begins to work at the clasps of your heels.

"you can borrow my shoes. that sound alright?" he looks up at you from where he's at, already sliding one of the heels from your feet.

you're quick to deny, "but what about you?"

"satoru and I are the same size, I can just ask him for a pair, he has a million."

you give in at his response, embarrassed, "okay."

"you want me to take you home now?" he lightheartedly smiles as he works on the other heel, "I think you can walk in my shoes, but dancing doesn't seem doable."

"well yea." you say dejectedly, a little frown etching itself on your face when he finally comes back up, his lips quirk up a little when he sees it

"wait for me here then." he says, putting your shoes next to you on the countertop before he walks off a little hurriedly to you assume gojo's room.

when geto walks you to his motorcycle, he takes your heels and puts them in the compartment box of it for you, then takes his helmet and immediately puts it on your head.

an 'oomf' leaves your mouth at the sudden weight of it and he looks a little amused as he starts working at the straps of it.

"there you go."

he smirks a little as he looks at the, very large in comparison to you, helmet, and picks up his jacket that he brought back from gojo's room to put on you.

"there we go" he sighs, almost like he's proud of himself and gets on the motorcycle, turning his torso a little to pat behind him for you to get on too.

when you get on and take in the feeling of sitting on a motorcycle for the first time, he's turned around and looking at his phone, pinching and zooming in on the route to your apartment.

"you actually live pretty close to me." he murmurs, noting what roads to take.

"yeah?" you yawn, laying your head on his back

"alright," geto says, starting up his motorcycle, revving it up a bit, "hug me tight okay?"

you nod sleepily and wrap your arms around him, brain so eased by the alcohol in your system that you don't overthink it, as if your sober self wouldn't be screaming and crying on the inside during this exact situation.

geto drives off at a decent pace, some part of you thinking that this might not be the speed he normally drives off and that he was taking it a bit slower just for you. you could feel him breathe in and out all throughout the ride, his chest and stomach were rising and falling underneath your touch. you fell half asleep on him halfway through it, managing to grasp onto him like a child with their stuffed animal, and unable to resist the heaviness of your eyelids.

you blink back to reality at the sudden stop of movement, the stilling air was no longer brushing past your skin and the noise of wheels screeching against the road was gone.

after geto helps you get his helmet off, he hangs it on one of the handles and takes your heels out of the compartment box.

"this is your place right?"

another yawn flutters past your mouth again and you hold out your pointer finger to say yes.

"alright." geto says, watching as you lead the way into and through your apartment and to your place. he had placed a ghost of his hand near your back in case you started to trip up from his shoes considering their size in comparison to your feet. the walk was quiet considering your focus on making it to your door and the overwhelming sleepiness dawning on you.

when you get to your door you slip off geto's shoes and them to him, taking your heels from him in return.

"thank you, geto." you hold try not to yawn again, doe eyes sleepily fluttering at him

"you can call me by my first name." he comments comfortingly, "and no problem. see you in class?"

"yeah." and this time you do yawn, again, before you open your door and walk inside, looking at him while you hold onto the frame.

"alright then." he looks down at you from across the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding onto his shoes, "get some rest okay?"

"okay." you almost murmur, your bed calling out to you.

you get to class at the time you usually do the following class meeting. the weather forecast had been a little chilly, so you opted for a cozy, off the shoulder sweater. it was fashionable and you had been dying to use it the moment you saw the weather forecast the night before.

you're scribbling notes onto your iPad this time, going over lecture notes from your earlier class that day. there were some things you forgot to add and that's what you always used this time for before class started. you see the class start filling in minute by minute out of your peripheral vision as you do this.

your habit of pretending to not care about suguru's presence is still existent, so all you can see for a fleeting second when you look into your backpack for a mint is that he is indeed sitting at his normal spot with gojo.

there was no chance to look at him that day in class, he hadn't spoken, which wasn't really rare, sometimes you wouldn't speak in class either. you, however, did speak in class that day, the module that the professor was teaching that day had piqued your interest a great amount and thus called for a great amount of your interaction with the lesson.

by the end of class, you were setting quick reminders on the notes you had taken of what was the most important before you started packing your bag to leave. the sound of feet and shuffling to leave the class a bit noisy, but it could let you make out the distant loud voice of gojo, probably talking to suguru.

"I have been on my best behavior. I do not know what you mean by that Suguru." "No no no that was a favor, look where it got you." "Oh you are such a wuss."

It was only a little appealing considering the fact that you couldn't hear what suguru was saying and the things that gojo was saying didn't let you get any clues as to what they were talking about. oh well.

you wanted to go home and start studying for a test tomorrow, so you started walking out of class, past suguru and gojo's line of view.

you heard a smack, like one of them had hit the other.

and gojo's voice, "idiot."

you were sitting at your desk, going over the last of your test review when you felt your phone buzz across the desk and picked it up

suguru

hey

y/n

hi

suguru

you wanna take satoru's seat next class?

y/n

he wants to flirt with mika again?

suguru

not rlly lol.

y/n

?????

suguru

I think it'd be cool to switch desk buddies every once in a while ;)

y/n

lmaooo. I won't tell mika if that's what you're scared of

suguru

haha, that's not rlly the case, but just take his seat

y/n

okay?

when you go to class again that same week, you hesitantly take gojo's seat. there was no follow up text from suguru after you said your okay and it was a little off putting. of course it had only been that night and the day after that he hadn't texted again, but it was a little weird, especially for it being the very first text conversation he strikes with you. the only thing that had been exchanged between either of you in your messages had been your address to him from gojo's party.

there were no notes for you to go over, there was no test or important knowledge that you had to use soon in any upcoming classes, so you were left to wait for the class to begin while you aimlessly scrolled through your phone and watched people come into class.

three minutes had passed before suguru and gojo were walking into class together. gojo was rubbing his friend's shoulder rather roughly, a fang filled smile on his face as he said something to him. suguru didn't seem to mind it, like many things, his eyes still had that warmth they always had, but it looked like he had said something back.

gojo playfully shoved suguru forward by the back before he laughed evilly and walked to your original seat, if you were right, you could see his bright blue eyes flick to you for a second behind his glasses before he smiled at the girl he flirted with last week.

you look up at suguru as he finally gets to the seat next to you.

"hey." he sighs with a smile as he plops into the seat.

"hey." you smile only halfway, a little tired from staying up to finish a homework the night before.

"sorry about the cryptic texts." he starts to apologize, moving his chair a little closer to yours, "satoru took my phone."

ah. that's why it seemed so out of character

"it's fine." you reassure, "they were a little off putting to read."

suguru scratches at the back of his neck, "I'm sorry about that. I meant to text after but I felt awkward."

"really? about?"

for the first time, you see him stumble on what to say, hesitance obvious when he opens and closes his mouth for a painfully slow second before he manages to respond, "to see if you were coming to the party on actual Halloween night this weekend."

"oh." your mouth opens in a little oh, oblivious to what he really wanted to say, "I'm not too sure. my friend that I went to the party with is spending it with that same guy she left with. so I don't have anyone to go with. plus I already used my costume."

"what's wrong with using the playboy bunny costume again?"

you eye him, disappointed, and lean over to flick his forehead, "i...am not an outfit repeater, suguru. the people who saw me at last week's party are going to remember me and say 'she's using the same costume again, what a loser'"

he gazes back at you as if you pat his head instead of just flicking it, warmth and a hint of mischief seeping into his stare, "you're right, you did catch a lot of attention."

"what?"

suguru leans back in his seat and answers, "you looked beautiful. it was hard to ignore."

"for who?"

"for me and every guy with eyes at the party."

he seems calm and confident when he says it, but his cheeks and ears start to get a slight pinkish hue as he awaits your response.

you try to keep looking at him, fighting the need to look away and wait for the professor to start class, your flustered face saying all too well what you're feeling, "what am I supposed to say to that?"

"you don't have to." suguru moves forward, positions his feet to face you as well as his face, and puts his elbow on the table, slanting his body onto it a little, "The president of gojo's frat asked for your name. He really liked you."

"Zenin?!"

"You like him?" he asks, with the tone of a guy who would try to set you up with the president if you said yes.

you shake your head, gaze looking down in embarrassment, "no no. it just caught me off guard..."

"if you like Toji it's fine," he tries to lower his head so he could catch your eye again, speaking earnestly yet something about it sounds like it's fake, it's weird, "he's like a dog, treat him well and he's loyal. although he can be brutally possessive, probably the type to leave hickeys on your legs if you're going to be with him and wear a costume like the one from the party."

"no, I don't like him. he's not my type." you answer meekly, having felt a bit of pressure from his boasts of the frat president.

"no?"

"no."

and before he can continue with his intense conversation again, you're saved by your professor, dramatically entering the class and bellowing for all of you to pay attention to him.

when your class ends, you try and succeed at scampering away from suguru before he can get a word out. as if she possessed magical powers, your friend called you the moment your professor ended the lesson. within the millisecond her name popped up on your phone, you grabbed at your phone at put it to your ear.

"hello?"

"hey hey! I have a question!"

you pay no mind to suguru as you haul your backpack over your shoulders and begin to walk out of class.

"what's up?"

"do you want the extra halloween costume I bought? levi is taking me to dinner on halloween for our date and I won't get to use it."

"the fembot costume?!"

you can almost makeout the banter between suguru and gojo a way's away behind you as you walk down the concrete steps of the building.

"yeah! you can go to gojo's party in it!" she beams, before her voice gains a bit of malice, "you can dance with motorcycle guy again~"

"go there by myself?" you groan, almost wanting to stomp your feet on the pavement beneath you

"lots of girls go by themselves to parties!"

"well I've never done that." you grumble

"aw come on. use the costume and go for me. pretty pleaseeeee."

"I'm going to give you a reason to be scared on halloween if this goes south for me. got it?"

it's cold when you get to gojo's party and you're beyond psyched out of your mind. from the unbelievably slutty costume that let everyone see your naked body in panties due to sheer babydoll material and the fear of coming across a very handsome suguru or toji zenin, who as handsome as he was might be able to seduce you, but you didn't want him like you did suguru.

you're more conscious of the stares now, due to suguru's previous comment and the fact that this costume was way more revealing.

on instinct you rush to the kitchen and get a strawberry daiquiri like the one suguru got for you exactly a week ago. you didn't want to get drunk tonight considering you came by yourself, so reaching for the strawberry vodka again was not within your list of options.

your eyes were on high alert as you pushed yourself through the countless bodies dancing, trying to remain unseen.

it doesn't give you cause to hide for some reason, considering he's suguru's friend, but you see satoru strut to the kitchen in a slutty firefighter costume. he was wearing the pants and boots, and nothing on top but a set of suspenders. classic.

however, you do a double take when you suguru geto wearing that same exact costume. you swear you feel your eye twitch in frustration when your eyes see his hair finally down, splayed across his back and chest, and get a peek of a tattoo tracing his spinal structure, bone for bone, going all the way up his back until it gets interrupted by his hair. his arms are practically calling to you when he fist bumps a toji zenin wearing a prisoner costume, they flex and bulge at the action. his abs are all perfectly prominent and–

he just made eye contact with you.

you hadn't gojo walk up to him and whisper something into his ear, probably that you were here.

fuck you satoru gojo.

suguru smiles immediately and turns to walk to you, leaving you to stay in place and not run away from him.

"you bought another costume?"

"no," you feel your chest heave at the sight of him, breath getting caught in your throat with his very shirtless self right in front of you. it makes you look off to a girl dancing behind him when you continue, "my friend gave me hers because she didn't end up dressing up."

"you want me to bring zenin?" he points a thumb behind him, towards the kitchen, face the definition of calm and suave.

you glare at him this time and take a sip of your daiquiri

"what? feeling shy?" he smiles down at you, if he weren't such a peaceful seeming person, you would have said it was condescending

"I'm not into zenin." a tinge of irritation already seeping into your voice.

"you sure?" he moves closer to you, your face right smack in front of his chest.

"yes." you jut your chin at him, done with his shenanigans

his lips twitch a little when he tugs your strawberry daiquiri out of your hands, grabs you by the neck, thumb close to your chin, and says, "open your mouth." he immediately starts to chug from your daiquiri and the thought of realization dawns on you of what he was about to do.

you open your mouth and he pushes his body closer to yours as he spits the drink into your mouth, his eyes solely on yours as he does it besides for when he briefly looks at something or someone behind you rather haughtily. he's still holding you and intently watching when you swallow it down immediately. that familiar happy crease of his eyes sketched itself across his face after.

you're heaving a little, star struck by the action the both of you just committed, "what was that suguru?"

"scaring off zenin. you don't want him right?"

his eyelids flutter a bit, something yours did whenever they were sleepy and it makes you search into his eyes more. your curiosity dying when you see the sudden red veins clouding the whites of his eyes. and you push him off.

"are you kidding me? you're high?"

"and drunk." he smiles, not minding your pushing him off and still inserting himself into your personal space again.

you try to speak and can't, solely out of irritation at the fact that he did that because of his intoxicated state. you bite your lip to stop yourself from overreacting and settle for shaking your head.

"you don't like guys who smoke?" he asks, genuine concern laced with his stupid crossed persona at the moment, "I tend to never smoke, but satoru passed me his joint when I was already at the 'whatever happens' point of a tequila bottle ."

"I really don't care about that in a guy, as long as he's not a musty constant weed user that can never cope with his life." you roll your eyes at him slightly, "but you just spit alcohol into my mouth because you're crossed as fuck."

"no." he scoffs, now entirely entranced in his conversation with you.

"yes."

"I spit alcohol into your mouth so zenin wouldn't come up to you."

the response makes you cross your arms over each other, "a simple 'hey she's not into you like that' would have sufficed."

"where's the fun in that?" its a serious question for him, you can tell by the way he patiently waits for your answer

irked, you look up at the ceiling while biting your cheek, trying to gather yourself again before you say, "sober up geto." and turning to walk away.

you made it your mission to stay hidden the entire party, having entered the deal with your best friend that if the night turned sour for you, she would come with her boy whatever to pick you up in his car

after their date.

which wasn't going to end until an hour or two.

the garage had stayed open to the enormous frat house, although there weren't any people in it. people had respected the space, leaving the miscellaneous in it untouched such as the two cars and...suguru's bike.

you eyed it from the rather comfy bean bag in the darkest corner of the garage, feeling a fight or flight instinct at the mere glimpse of it whenever you looked up from your phone.

it had been almost two hours since you last suguru and you were striving to keep the streak going on longer.

"told you I'm going home satoru." a wary and very sobered up voice says when they open the door to the garage, "I drank enough water, I'm sober."

it's suguru.

there is no stagger in his step and his posture is refined as he walks to lean again the trunk of the car furthest from you and closest to his bike. you remain hidden due to the cars covering you from his line of sight as well as the sheer darkness of the corner.

he's wearing a shirt now, another black one, and he rakes his hands across face when he gives a defeated sigh. you hoped he wouldn't notice you.

this was your Friday the 13th movie for sure.

suguru pulls outs his phone from one of the spacious pockets of his fireman pants and he starts to type away immediately. there's a slight buzz from your phone seconds within the action.

suguru

are you still here?

I'm sobered up now.

he shoves his phone back in his pocket after. and you watch as he stays where he is, crossing his arms across his chest while he waits a good five minutes for you to respond, which you don't do. he gets his phone out again after and taps something randomly before he puts his phone up to his ear.

buzz-buzz-buzz-buzz

the strong buzzing of your phone on your thigh make a ricochet that gets's fine tuned ears pick up quickly.

"y/n?" he's shining his phone's flashlight on you, squinting his eyes just a little to try and make you out.

nervous, you mutter, "what."

suguru turns the light off and sighs, walking to your corner, his eyes already getting adjusted to the darkness.

"why didn't you answer me?"

"do you really not know the answer?"

"you're right." he sinks down in front of you, sitting down on the floor and brushing a stressed hand through his hair. his legs are stretched out and basically manspread even though he's not on a chair.

"satoru didn't text you to switch seats with him because he wanted to flirt with mika" he comes forth, both of his hands laying across his knees.

you're confused, "but–"

"it was a wild attempt of his to help me talk to you again." and he laughs, a burst of energy randomly gracing the intense air. suguru raises a hand to rub at the back of his neck while his chest and stomach ricochet and his teeth peek out from his mouth.

"truth is, I really like you." he's still smiling.

the declaration makes you stare blankly at him and a million goosebumps rise across your entire body.

"if you don't feel the same in that regard it's fine of course." he reassures, back to his normal calm self, "I just thought it would help explain my behavior."

"since when?" you peep

"our first class meeting," suguru seems a little bashful at the confession

"I have for a couple of weeks now too." you meekly profess

suguru seems genuinely surprised, his eyes widening, "you have?"

"why do you sound so surprised?" your brows knit.

"it felt like you didn't know I existed until last week." he grins followed by a small huff of humor

"oh...that," you trail off, embarrassed, "I thought pretending you didn't exist was the best way for you to not know I had a thing for you..."

"satoru is far smarter than me in that aspect." he says, "he insisted that you were doing that when I told him."

you giggle a little, "he read me like a book."

suguru hangs his head for a second and groans, still joyful, before he whips his head up and gazes at you, "I apologize for having never gathered the courage to approach you before. I have Satoru to thank for even getting me here with you in the first place."

"it's fine." you shrug, pulling at your own fingers, "we're here now aren't we?"

"we are." he agrees before leaning over. suguru grabs one of your hands and brings it to his lips, placing a soft kiss onto it while his eyes never leave your own.

"want to go back to the party?" you muster past your nerves, focus solely on the warmth of his hand still holding onto yours.

suguru shakes his head lightly, "I'm enjoying it being just the two of us right now. do you want to?"

"no, I like it here too."

theres a moment of silence, where both of you stare at the hands that the both of you have connected until a strong breeze passes and flutters the thin material of your babydoll up and makes you shiver strongly.

"let me." suguru says as he hastily gets up and gets his leather jacket that's hanging from his motorcycle, then brings it back to you, helping you tuck your arms into the sleeves and get comfortable in it.

he's above you when he does it and you can see the small glances he tries to avoid giving your body, especially at the sparkly pink thong peeking through the see through material of your costume. suguru is making sure his jacket is on your properly when you call out to him suddenly.

"suguru."

he doesn't get the chance to respond when he looks back up at you and you pull him in by the material of his shirt to kiss him.

he reciprocates within seconds, after the surprise wears off and places a hand on your thigh, the other next to your head and grabbing at the beanbag. his lips are soft and have no remnants of alcohol on them, a smooth flavor of his skin and flesh meeting your tastebuds when he dips his tongue into your mouth. it elicits a groan from him when you whimper at the contact.

he pushes as much as he can into your space without falling and you follow suit, trying to lift yourself as much as possible off the beanbag to meet him.

a particular whimper has suguru pulling away from you and pulling you up by the arm so he can maneuver you to sit on the trunk of the car next to you. when he plops you down onto it, he slots his torso between your thighs and pulls you for an even deeper kiss. his hands have a strong grip on your thighs as he keeps you against him and you can feel the distinctly large throbbing of something against your panties through his pants.

"are–mmmm–you hard?" you ask through kisses

suguru can't help the grind of his bulge against your core when he answers and keeps kissing you, giving small nips to your lips, "yes."

your eyes are closed into the kiss when your hands navigate to the waistband of his pants, about to reach for–

"not here." suguru mutters and keeps both of your wrists clamped under one of his large hands.

you pull yourself away from his lips and heave, a pout of sexual frustration illustrated on your eyes and lips. "okay."

he raises a hand to caress your cheek as he smiles fondly, "what?"

"nothing."you look away for a quick second, leaning in to kiss him again after.

suguru stops you before you do though, clamping one of his hands against your mouth while the other holds the back of your head.

he's smiling even wider this time, "now what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you touch me before I get to touch you?"

you slouch in his hold, too upset by the fact that you couldn't touch him or go back to kissing him to care about his words.

"you know, even satoru couldn't keep his eyes off of you in this little costume of yours." he looks down for a second so you could too, "god knows what toji was thinking. I saw the tent in his pants when you took my spit and booze like a good girl."

suguru sees the way you shift your hips for a smidge of relief at his words. "are you my good girl?" he leans his forehead across yours, hand still on your mouth. you try your best to let out a muffled 'mhm' and incessantly nod your head, eyes pleading and hands gripping onto his shirt.

"are you going to answer the phone when I text you next time?"

you give him the same answer again.

"god." he warily eyes you, gaze wandering towards the outline of your breasts and the rest that wasn't covered by your thong, "you're so beautiful."

the hand at the back of your neck trails down and moves some hair away from your shoulder, then ends up holding you by your lower back as suguru leans down and starts to mouth at your neck. he starts off small with his intentions, simply placing soft and subtle kisses, eliciting a ticklish response from you until his lips become searing and he goes in with the intent of leaving hickeys on you, it makes you squirm and suguru lets you, it's not like you can break away from his touch anyway. you use your legs to keep him caged in and closer to you eventually after the third 'pop' you heard coming from his mouth on your skin, it makes him audibly laugh for a second too.

you tug at the hand on your mouth, expecting for the task to be hard considering his build, but suguru lets his hand fall away easily and hold onto your thigh.

"what are you thinking pretty?" he asks mindlessly before going for the opposite side of your neck

"mmmm–about how good–mm–this feels."

"yeah?"

"mhm"

"tell me what you want to do. do you want me to drop you off at your place after this?" he blows on your most recent hickey and smirks when he sees you jump a little, "do you want me to get you food?"

"I want–ah!" suguru bites into your neck fairly hard, enough to make you moan and yelp at the same time, "I want to spend the rest of the night with you at my place. can we watch a scary movie?" the suggestion is simple and it isn't to hook up with him, although that's what you want more than ever now, but you don't want him to think you're that desperate so its what you settle for.

"couldn't imagine a better halloween than that." he smiles

you're under suguru, on your bed later that night, the movie you had been watching was long forgotten and the t.v. was turned off the second things started to get out of hand. it wasn't his fault no, suguru's a gentleman and when you said you just wanted to watch a movie, he was just going to watch the movie with you. you were the instigator. after you had been cuddled into his arms, near his neck, you decided to place a few loving kisses...that eventually turned into what this was with suguru getting up to take off and throw away his shirt while you hastily yanked off the long gloves of your costume.

he was needy, grinding his hips into yours the moment he came back down to kiss you.

"you have no idea how fucking bad I've been wanting you." he mutters, hissing when a particular rub pleases him the right way

it makes your back arch, "I think I do suguru."

"really?" he groans into your mouth, "you touch yourself to me like I do for you?"

"yeah." you sigh, clinging onto him even more, splaying your hand across the soft skin of his back.

"move your panties to the side."

when he feels your hand move down and follow his directions, suguru moves his down too and slides a finger across your soaked folds.

"fuck, this pussy is so wet for me. were you even trying to pay attention to the movie?"

"yes, I was." you complain, and whimper when he starts rubbing circles across your lower lips, gathering your slick for added stimulation after every rub.

he separates himself from kissing you to look down at his ministrations, mouth opening in a soundless moan at the sight.

"listen to this sloppy fucking pussy." he rubs faster and you start to jerk your hips up by natural defiance at the stimulation, but he holds you down "no, let me touch you baby." he says sternly

your breathing starts to pick up and you feel that familiar knot that only you can give yourself starting to build up in your stomach and suguru notices, looking up to smile at you.

"are you close angel?"

concentrated on the feeling, all you can do is nod your head and he speeds up his pace at it, garnering close to wanton moans from you and screech like whines.

"come on come on, cum for me pretty girl, cum cum cum cum–fuck, atta girl." suguru talks you through it, mouth opening in awe at the sight of your body going limp and your breathing slowing down, his cock even twitches at how cute it is that your legs kick a little when you cum too, he thinks he'll be able to keep them still when he gets make you cum on his cock.

you start to hiss at the overstimulation when he keeps rubbing your clit after your high, "'s too much suguru."

he doesn't stop, "you want to stop now then?"

the shake of your head makes his eyes light up and bite his lip with a grin, "then just let me keep going."

it takes all of your strength to lean up with one of your elbows and grab his wrist with the other, obvious strain written across your features when you huff, "I want you inside me."

like he knew that was what you wanted, suguru's grin grows wider, "are you sure?"

you nod your head in confirmation, followed by suguru saying, "so cute." before he gets up and pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion and climbs on top of you, manhandling your legs by pinning them to either side of your head into a mating press.

he lets his cock teasingly rub up and down your folds while he leans down to nip at your ears, "let's leave your little costume on yeah?"

you nod and make a face when his tip catches on your entrance

suguru lifts his hips at your confirmation and pushes his tip in, savoring the way you're beginning to invite him inside you.

" 's so big sugu." you whimper in shock at the larger than expected intrusion

"never taken a cock this big?" he pulls out and pushes in again a little deeper

"no." you rake your hands down his arms

suguru laughs, "good thing I'm here to provide then right? see, look at you creaming around me already."

the words make you look down at where you both meet and when he pulls out again, you can see the ring and slick on his dick, it makes you shiver.

"I'll–make–this–little-fucking–pussy-take–me." he punctuates each and every one of his words with a thrust that pushes himself deeper and deeper inside you until you can fully feel his tip grazing your cervix and every vein on his dick ridging against your walls from how girthy he is.

every sound that comes out of your mouth after is incoherent when suguru starts to punishingly pummel into you and god does he keep talking to you.

"you look so pretty taking this dick baby. god, you sound even cuter than I imagined. you like getting stretched out like this? fuck, take it take it take it. wish I could make you sit on it, you'd look so cute trying to ride me."

it's all so much, especially when every thrust is accompanied by a moan or groan of his or with a sentence.

"couldn't fucking wait to get home after the party last week too. wanted to rip off that costume and fuck you till you couldn't even scream. and when you wear those skirts with pantyhose to class?" suguru groans, "all–I–can–think–about–is–bending–you–over–and–stuffing–this–pussy–with–my–cum."

"suguru!" you squeal, "im–I'm gonna cum!"

suguru tightens his hold on your thighs at the admission and starts jackhammering into you, "cum around me baby. let me fuck you through it." it almost sounds like he's starting to beg, "just cum for me, cum for me, cum–"

a silent scream leaves your mouth and you trash in suguru's hold while he keeps his furious pace.

"so pretty, angel." his eyebrows knit as he watches you orgasm and feels you clamp down on him. it has his peak lurching across his body and his thrusts grow erratic as he starts spurting his cum into you.

he leans down to kiss you as his cock twitches inside of you, leaking his cum into you each time.

at the end of the kiss, the both of you are heaving against each other, smiles on both of your faces until you erupt into laughter and giggles.

suguru is still inside you and places a loving kiss on your forehead, swiping away your sweaty baby hair, "you're cute when you cum. you kick your legs a little, I like it."

the confession has you trying to shy away and suguru laughs again, caressing your head, "why are you shying away? you wore this costume for everyone to see just a couple hours ago."

"well this is you telling me you think the way I cum is cute, its quite different than guys looking at my thong." you shakily grab onto his shoulders

"I suppose so." suguru nuzzles into your neck, "do you have a bath?"

"yeah."

"let me start one for us then." he pulls out and both of you look down at your lonely entrance until his cum starts to leak out. suguru seems entranced and you can see his cheeks start to gain a red hue accompanied by the blood starting to rush to his cock too.

suguru looks back at you the moment you do too. you reach a hand out to him and he crawls back on top of you.

"we can do that later right?"

"right."

[mmhcs]

Say It With Your Chest

Warnings: None, maybe an emotionally constipated Miguel if that's not your thing

"Why don't you just confess?"

Miguel O'Hara shakes his head for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

Ay coño, how did he get here? he silently wonders, looking at Peter B. alongside quite literally the entire Spider Society—save for you—squeezed into his office.

It all started at around noon when Peter B. had walked up into his office both unceremoniously and unannounced. Today, he was without his daughter Mayday, making his steps quieter than they had been in the past few months. Unlike most days when he would call out for his (self-proclaimed) best buddy, this time Peter B. simply waited to be acknowledged, seeing that Miguel was in the middle of a squabble with Lyla.

"...Miguel, why don't you just say something?" she asked rather concerned. "The worst that could happen is that you get shot down. But if that happens then it just means that you're one step closer to finding The One."

The One?

Peter's eyebrow quirked upwards in curiosity and interest.

For as long as he's known Miguel O'Hara, Peter had never heard Miguel discuss dating, marriage, or anything romotely related to the realm of romance for that matter.

But now—now Miguel possibly had a crush? Someone who he was interested in and, judging by Lyla's words, wanted to pursue?

Peter had to know more.

But just as he opened his mouth to chime in, Miguel spoke.

"Lyla, please," he said, waving his hand as if to shoo her away. "We don't need to discuss this."

"But we do!" Lyla exclaimed, throwing her arms up the air. "Miguel, this could be the start of something. Who knows? Maybe one day you two will get married, have some children—"

"Lyla!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Lyla said, this time truly apologetic.

Miguel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Lyla, this—whatever this is—" he spread his arms, gesturing to something that wasn't there "—doesn't matter. It will go away in a few weeks, give or take and—"

"But it's been months! Almost a year!"

Almost a year?

Okay, now Peter really had know more about this little crush of Miguel’s.

"Lyla!" Miguel sighed again. "(Y/N)—how am I supposed to talk to someone who barely shows up at HQ? It's not like I have much wiggle room here,"

"But you do have a best friend who is friends with (Y/N) and as of today has a burning desire to see you two together!" Peter finally spoke up.

From there, Miguel’s day went downhill. At first, it was just Peter. Which, though not ideal, was fine. But then Jess came in and after her Ben Reilly, then Miles, Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr...And then before Miguel knew it, quite literally the entire Spider Society was in his lab, talking over one another as they shouted useless love advice.

Except you.

It always irked Miguel that you preferred to limit your time at HQ as much as possible. But today—today he couldn't be more grateful for your choice.

"Hey, what's going on in here?"

He spoke too soon.

The entire room goes silent and every Spider including Miguel turns to face you.

"Uh...hi?" You give a sheepish wave of your hand.

"(Y/N)!" Peter exclaims. "So great to see you!"

Miguel winces at how overtly friendly Peter is being right now. If he's behaving like this then he can only imagine how the other Spiders will act.

"It's great to see you too, Peter," you say, glancing around. There are so many Spiders in here. Some of them you haven't even spoken to before. "And everybody. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting—or should have been here. I don't know. I just dropped by to ask about my schedule for this week."

"Oh, your schedule?" Peter's mouth shifts to one side of his face as he puts a hand on his chin. "Hmm, well, while I personally don't know anything about that, I think you should ask my pal Miguel."

"Okay..."

All the eyes in the room fell back to Miguel like dominoes. Hums of agreement with Peter's sentiments begin to echo throughout the room.

"So, about my schedule..." you say once you are face-to-face with Miguel.

You glance around between every sentence or two, seemingly painfully aware of how crowded the room is and how many people are eagerly watching your interaction. It causes something to stir within Miguel, seeing you so uncomfortable and nervous.

"...I will email you your schedule again," Miguels explains, trying to act as normal as possible. "I did before but it seems that something hasn't went through properly. For now, you have nothing scheduled, though. You can go home and relax."

Miguel swears that he hears a few awwws from the masses.

"As for the rest of you," he begins, now addressing the hoards of unwelcome visitors. He's let this go on for far longer than it should have. "I am certain that at least two quarters of you have some type of assignment to do. I suggest that you all stop dilly-dallying and get back to work because though you do not have paychecks, you will have to work late tonight if everything isn't finished at the appropriate time."

There is a collective groan amongst all the Spiders as the door opens and they begin to file out of Miguel’s office. You stifle a giggle at the pairs of sad yet uneven eyes you see.

Before Peter leaves, he turns to you two and gives Miguel two thumbs up that you imagine to be directed at Miguel. He is Peter's best buddy after all.

"Was there an impromptu meeting that I wasn't told about?" you ask, turning to face Miguel as soon as you two are alone.

Though this is technically not a job and you do prefer to be in your own universe rather than at HQ, you still wanted to fulfill your duties and be a committed member to the team.

"No, there was no meeting," Miguel reassures you as he turns away and begins walking to his platform. "There was a...matter that the others found particularly interesting. It was all Peter's idea, really."

Judging by the annoyance in his voice, you think that you should be glad that you missed whatever transpired earlier.

"Oh, okay then," You nod. "If I'm not needed then I'll be returning to my universe for the rest of the day. Goodbye, Miguel. Goodbye, Lyla."

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

The next day you and Peter B. are strolling through the cafeteria of the Spider Society, munching on empanadas.

You occasionally glance down at his once again empty baby carrier—Mayday was upstate, attending the birthday party of her maternal cousins, Peter explained earlier—finding it abnormal to see him without the young girl that the entire Spider Society has grown to love.

"So, what was so interesting that everyone had to gather in Miguel's office to discuss yesterday?" you ask.

You often felt like you came in to HQ at the wrong times. Always after something happens. You were rarely ever there to be apart of the moment and often had to resort to asking your friends to fill you in. And normally that sufficed. But this time—whatever it was that had happened yesterday obviously had HQ in a chokehold.

"Oh, what, yesterday?" Peter scoffed, waving a shaky hand. "Oh please, yesterday; who even talks about the past like that? Today is tomorrow's yesterday."

"Come on, Peter!" you whine, slightly nudging him. "I know it has something to do with Miguel. Everyone has been talking about how weird he was acting yesterday before I came in—What was it? Is he okay?"

"Okay? Miguel is more than okay," Peter laughs. "He's fine. Really fine actually, don't you think?"

"Uh-huh..." You nod, not knowing how to respond to that last comment. You've grown to learn that a part of Miguel and Peter's friendship also included not-so-subtle innuendos from Peter.

"Don't worry about him—he's great. Fantastic. Nothing wrong with him. Or nothing more than the usual at least."

You know Peter is lying. But what you don't know is why.

Normally, Peter B. Parker is an open book. He'll tell you about Mayday's gassiness, show you a picture he took of a thing that he thought was cool, tell you about all of his favorite sports teams, or how he and MJ finally got a night to themselves and how amazing it was. Nothing is a secret with this man.

Until now.

It makes your curiosity double.

"Peter..." you start, trying to put on your best set of puppy dog eyes. "Come on, just tell me. You said that Miguel is fine—is it something embarrassing? You don't have to tell me if it is but I just—everyone is talking about it. You can't even get through the coffee line without being asked about 'it'."

Peter's nervous expression softens into a frown for a second.

He feels bad. Really, really bad.

On the one hand, he wants to tell you. He really does. He doesn't like it when others feel left out. Especially you. You're not known to frequent HQ unlike so many other Spiders and he knows how much that affects your social status amongst the rest.

But on the other hand, he can't tell you. Because it's Miguel's secret. Probably one of the deepest, most darkest ones he's had in a long time. What kind of best friend would Peter be if he told you?

It's already bad enough that the rest of the Spider Society knows. They've been teasing the poor guy to no end about his crush on you.

Peter bites down on his lip. Oh, the woes of being so friendly and trusted.

"Hey guys, what’s going on?" Gwen Stacy waves at the two of you.

Behind her is Hobie, Miles, and Pavitr who give you and Peter their own forms of greeting as well.

"Gwen," you say almost desperately and Peter gets nervous. He looks at all four of the kids, silently begging them to keep quiet.

"Do you know what happened yesterday with Miguel? Everyone's been talking about it all day and I feel like if one more person says something about whatever it is, my brain is going to explode."

Now Gwen seems to have been bitten by the same nervous bug that Peter was when you asked him previously.

Her eyes widen and she begins looking at everything but you.

"Oh, that?" she laughs nervously. "That was nothing. You know how everyone likes to rag on Miguel. Right, guys?"

The only one who backs her up is Miles. And his response does more damage as he says, "Who's Miguel?"

You sigh, facepalming.

"Hobie, you'll tell me, right?" you half-ask, half-plea.

"Sorry, mate," Hobie shrugs, a smirk on his face. "Information's kind of classified."

Okay, now you really want to know what happened yesterday. Not even Hobie will tell you? Something monumental must have happened yesterday.

Still desperate, you turn your gaze to Pavitr who immediately tenses.

"Don't look at me!" he says, frantically waving his hands in front of his chest. "I don't know anything!"

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

The day after next, you find yourself standing outside of Miguel’s office.

Though Miguel promised that he would resend you your schedule for the week, you have yet to receive it. And it's already Thursday. You don't even want to think about how many assignments you've missed. You'll probably have to stay late next week, so much so that you may even catch a glimpse of the mythical "zombie Miguel" that spends the night at HQ and only comes out of his office for coffee.

Or so you've heard from other Spiders.

You knock on the door once before entering.

"Miguel?" you say both in greeting and question. "I wanted to talk to you about my schedule; I've still yet to receive it and—"

"Leave."

You stop dead in your tracks. Once again, you've heard about the infamous "moody Miguel" but you've yet to encounter him.

"Did you hear what I said? Leave and I'll make sure that I get to it as soon as I can. I'm busy right now."

You look up and see Miguel focused on his screens, typing away.

A bit of relief flows through your body. Miguel isn't in a bad mood; he's focused. Probably doing something very tedious and imperative to the Multiverse's ensurance—

"(Y/N)?" Now Miguel has looked up from his screen and his eyes are on you, studying you intently. "You still didn't get your schedule yet? I've emailed that to you about a thousand times now."

"You have?" you frown, checking your watch. You haven’t gotten anything from him.

"Yes, is there something wrong with your watch?"

With a wave of Miguel's hand, the screens disappear.

"I don't know," you say, staring down at your wrist. "Maybe there's an update or two that I missed? Whatever it is, don't worry about it. If could please just tell me what I have assigned, I'll be out of your hair in two seconds."

"You can't leave," Miguel tells you with a sterness that makes your heart jump a little. He must see the fear in your eyes because he softens then explains, "I think that there's something wrong with your watch. You can't leave until I at least inspect it. Walking around with a damaged watch could have consequences that I think we would both like to not deal with. You can put on a day pass and chat with Lyla in the meantime."

"Are you sure?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm sure," Miguel says as Lyla silently flickers into existence, a day pass in her hand. "I know I told you to leave earlier but that was just because I thought that you were another Spider. I...I've been trying to avoid them all week."

"Is this about your..." you trail off, not wanting to breach the subject.

Miguel's eyes widen. He feels his heart rate pick up and his limbs freeze in place.

"It's okay, I don't know anything!" you quickly reassure him. "Not a single soul would tell me today! Not Peter, not Hobie—and believe you me, I tried to get them to."

A little smile creeps onto Miguel's face at that. Maybe some people can keep a secret.

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

Peter B. Parker is estatic. Proud. Elated. Overjoyed.

Over the past few weeks, you and Miguel have been spending more time together. And that could only mean one thing. That Miguel finally confessed his feelings for you and that you two were dating. Or at least seeing where things go.

And Peter couldn't be happier for the two of you.

Yes, he does miss having his best buddy (you, of course) to sit and devour cafeteria food with but he understands what it's like to be in that honeymoon phase with your partner where all you want to do is be around them.

He sees the way that Miguel smiles at you when you're not looking, how a look of absolute and utter softness overtakes his features each time he glances at you. Peter gets it. And he's happy to see his bestest pal in the whole Multiverse finally get the love that he deserves.

"Hey, Peter!" you call from down the hall.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Peter crossed his arms and pops a hip to mimic a sassy pose. "You finally got a chance to come and visit me, eh?"

"Peter," you laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you suddenly get a tall, handsome boyfriend and abandon me!" Peter huffs. "I haven't seen you in a week! I had to eat empanadas in the cafeteria by myself yesterday morning. Do you know how much of a sad, old lonely fool I looked like!?"

You can't help but giggle at Peter's dramatics.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter," you say. "How about we go and get lunch right now? Miguel and I are supposed to head out on a patrol later this afternoon and I need all the fuel that I can get; he goes so fast sometimes,"

"Ugh, you lovebirds sicken me."

You quirk an eyebrow at Peter. Does he actually think that you and Miguel are dating?

"Ha-ha Peter, very funny..." you deadpan. "Miguel and I aren't dating; we're just friends."

"You are!?!"

Why did he seem genuinely upset by that?

"Yes?" You give Peter a look of concern. Has he lost his marbles?

"Uh, (Y/N), you go to the cafeteria and grab us some food and seats. I'll be right back—I have to go do something."

Without further explanation, Peter rushes past you, giving you no time to question him further.

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

"Lyla, what time is it?"Miguel asks.

Though he knows that the outing between you and him is not taking place until a couple of hours later, he knows that he has a tendency to get lost in his work and, before he knows it, the hours have slipped away like water.

It's why he normally prefers to go on patrols alone but you had insisted on coming, claiming that you wanted to explore other universes—especially the one that housed the Society—and, well, who was he to deny a Spider the opportunity to learn more? And you—his friend—no less?

Miguel takes in a deep breath, his chest growing tight and fuzzy as memories of you flood his mind.

He moves to go back to work when he hears the door of his laboratory slam open.

"Miguel!" Peter yells.

He sighs. This couldn't be good.

"You didn’t confess!?!"

Miguel freezes.

Mierda.

[teecupangel]

Hi teecup, I hope ur having a great day/noon/night!

Forgive me if the things i'm about to say don't make much sense. It's been a vey, very, very, difficult time for me and my countrymen here, and my ability to make coherent sentences have declined drastically. So, yeah... BUT! That doesn't matter haha.

Anyways, I had a thought. And i'm not even sure how or why i got it but.... hear me out now...

Our boy, Desmond, gets thrown back in time as usual, same old same old, right? Exept, this time he doesn't end up in the Big Three™'s time-line. He ends up in Al-Mualim's time. *insert mind-blown emoji here cuz i can't find it rn*

And ik that i'm not a certified AC Expert like u and many others, and i haven't really finished any of the AC games yet (i've only seen bits of AC III and have only started AC 2, I also haven't finished AC 1)

But I do know that he wasn't really that creepy and evil in his youth/ b4 he became The Old Man of the Moutain, so i was thinking maybe Desmond ends up in that era of Al Mualim or is it Rashid al-Din Sinan? I know that he's based on a real historical figure but i'm not so sure if he's called that in-game?

And knowing Desmond, he'd probably get the urge to kill Rashid (i hope i'm using the name correctly) the time he figures shit out and connect that dots. But he would end up not doing that, cuz u know, it might fuck up the time-line and Altaïr might end up not being born, creating a domino-effect.

I want Desmond to meet Rashid before he starts to becom the Al Mualim we know today, so that Desmond can see how he was b4 the evants of AC 1.

Maybe Rashid's an arrogant ass, or a nerdy loser, or a popular assassin- who knows! The possibilites are endless!! (or maybe he's an obsessive bastard who gets obsessed with Desmond cuz he's just full of mysteries and wonders :Dc )

And blah blah blah, plot here, plot there, Isu-bullshit this, time shenanigans that, and BOOM they meet.

And romance ensues? :3 (romace wil absolutely ensue :}}} )

NOW, BEFORE- BEFORE YOU TIE ME TO A STAKE AND BURN ME ALIVE FOR THIS- i think it'd be a cute idea, and who knows? maybe Rashid was hot in his prime *insert lenny face cuz even after all these years i still don't know how to type it and is too lazy to cop paste it* and maybe he liked to solve mysteries and had a thing for the unexplainable. And Desmond is the most unexplainable, most bizarre thing to have graced the earth :33333.

Now that i've got this idea out of my system i'm gonna go pray for the down fall of my coutry's shit for brain, good for nothing military government/hj.

bye! *evaporates*

I hope you’re doing alright and I’m sorry that it took two months before I could answer your ask TTATT

As far as I know, he was only called Al Mualim because of legal reasons but Rashid ad-Din Sinan was the leader of the Assassins in Masyaf during 1191 so it’s safe to assume Al Mualim is AC’s version of Rashid (historically he died in 1193, not 1191.

.

Okay. We can make this work.

We put Desmond at around the same time he’s the recruit and we make it hard for him to realize he’s Al Mualim until it’s too late by doing one simple thing:

Desmond doesn’t know Al Mualim’s real name.

He always knew it as Al Mualim. As far as he knew, Al Mualim was his actual name.

Then he remembered that Al Mualim can mean mentor and bangs his head on the nearest flat surface.

His mission has been clear from the start.

Become an Assassin, take out Al Mualim before he does shit, find Umar and adopt him then play matchmaker so Altaïr would be born.

And no.

Desmond wasn’t going to think about the whole “can you truly be sure that the person who will be born will be Altaïr if you change the circumstances of his conception?”

Yeah.

His head hurts just thinking about it so he won’t.

For now, he’ll focus on his training while keeping a look out for anyone who gives of Al Mualim vibes.

What’s the Al Mualim vibes?

Manipulative old man vibes.

The problem is…

Rashid is one of the recruits in the same batch as Desmond and he becomes Desmond’s closest friend.

And there was no way Desmond would ever be friends with a future power hungry asshole like Al Mualim.

No way.

.

The way their relationship becomes romantic really depends on the kind of personality young Rashid would have.

A nerdy loser who starts making a name for himself because of his intelligence and tactical mind would start off as the kid Desmond sorta looks after. When he starts to show that his strength lies in making plans and quick judgments, he becomes the man whispering on Desmond’s ear. Providing plans and suggestions while giving Desmond a heads up on the less savory words people say about him. Desmond would never think this Rashid is Al Mualim because he’s nice and truly do want to help Desmond. This is also how Rashid would show his love for Desmond and, really, Desmond would think they’re bros and when he realizes that Rashid actually loves him, he’d think “oh, I am Ezio’s descendant”

An arrogant ass Rashid would butt heads with Desmond but Desmond would find himself fond of the man because he reminds him of AC1 Altaïr. This is the Rashid who would definitely be counted as a tsundere and their relationship would start when Rashid just flatout tells Desmond that he wants to do unspeakable things to him while they’re arguing. Desmond is offended because “tugging on my pigtails doesn’t work in real life, dumbass!” and Rashid is just “???” because what the fuck are pigtails??? Lots of awkwardness until Desmond realize that butting heads with Rashid is really how they flirt.

Now. Popular Assassin Rashid is more on the side of polite but is absolutely Desmond’s rival. Whatever it is, the two of them are always competing. Unlike the arrogant ass version, this Rashid is always nice to Desmond. The whole “no hard feelings” and pure competitiveness are what drives their relationship. This is the one where the two of them spar privately one time and things happen. They would try to distant themselves from one another for a bit until they finally talk it out. Rashid honestly didn’t think he loved Desmond until the whole ‘after-sparring’ thing.

Whichever you pick as Rashid’s background, he will become obsessed with Desmond but it’s more on the side of “I will do everything to make Desmond happy” which is good for Desmond but not really good for anyone against him.

.

Desmond is the one who adopts Umar in this one and Umar imprints on him like a baby duckling to a mama duckling. Everyone actually assumed Umar is his bastard son. Desmond ignores it even though he’s only like… a decade and a half older than Umar.

Rashid definitely treats him like Desmond’s son. He’s Umar’s favorite of all of Desmond’s friends.

And really, Desmond should have seen that as a hint of Rashid’s ‘future’.

Speaking of the future.

He’s been looking for Al Mualim this entire time and he has his suspects (Rashid, however, is not on the list) but honestly?

He’s just waiting for the person who would be picked as the one to lead the expansion to Masyaf since that would be Al Mualim.

Desmond has, unfortunately, fucked up the timeline so badly that the person chosen to lead the expansion?

It was Desmond.

.

Sidebar: Faheem would be that cute younger brother who turns grumpy when he grows up. Desmond will forever grieve the lost of little cute Faheem. Faheem is always embarrassed when Desmond talked about his ‘past’.

[scoobydoodean]

Okay so in 1.03 Dead In The Water, there's this exchange Sam and Dean have at one point in regards to Lucas—the little boy who watched his dad drown, who Dean connects with during the episode:

DEAN Andrea said the kid never drew like that till his dad died. SAM There are cases—going through a traumatic experience could make people more sensitive to premonitions, psychic tendencies. DEAN Whatever's out there, what if Lucas is tapping into it somehow? I mean, it's only a matter of time before somebody else drowns, so if you got a better lead, please.

And the last time I watched this episode, I went "Oh cool! A little Psychic!Sam Easter Egg." Right? Sam goes through the traumatic experience of losing Jess, and he's tapped into "whatever's out there" (the yellow eyed demon) and he's having premonitions about what he's going to do next. Which definitely makes a lot of sense.

But when I was gif-ing stuff from 1.03 today, I realized that... funnily enough, within the context of this episode we also have some fun stuff relating to the "slightly psychic Dean" posts that have gone around this year... Or if you prefer, Cassandra!Dean. Cassandra, in reference to the prophet in Greek myth, cursed by Apollo to utter true prophecies but never be believed.

Dean often knows when bad things are going to happen in Supernatural. He doesn't have visions—but he has "bad feelings" and makes predictions that turn out to be scarily accurate at times. Of course we can infer that Dean is just good at 1) reading people and 2) understanding how sequences of events tumble one by one in a row like so many dominoes. It's another sign of his incredible intelligence. But it IS fun to think about Dead In The Water as the first indication of Cassandra!Dean.

First, because Lucas has premonitions, and Lucas and Dean are paralleled and connect on an emotional level.

Dean and Lucas have similar traumatic childhood experiences. Both watched a parent die and both lost the ability to speak afterwards:

DEAN You're scared. It's okay. I understand. See, when I was your age, I saw something real bad happen to my mom, and I was scared, too. I didn't feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom—I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day. And I do my best to be brave. And maybe, your dad wants you to be brave too.

Dean is able to connect with Lucas through their shared traumatic experience. He's the only one who's able to get through to him—and after a short conversation and just drawing together for a while—much to his mom's shock. Dean is able to understand what Lucas is feeling without Lucas saying it.

Second, because Lucas has bad feelings that tell him the locations where the spirit will strike next, but no one listens to/believes him.

...Kind of like people usually don't listen to/believe Dean's bad feelings.

DEAN Anyway. Well, maybe you don't think anyone will listen to you, or, uh...or believe you. I want you to know that I will. You don't even have to say anything. You could draw me a picture about what you saw that day, with your dad, on the lake.

Of course, this line is just Dean paralleling Lucas with himself and his own reasons for not speaking, but it must hit home, because Lucas begins communicating with Dean through drawings.

Further, despite Sam also knowing Lucas is having premonitions, when Lucas reacts with extreme distress to the idea of going home and clings to Dean desperately, Sam still... doesn't think it means anything. He thinks the case is over.

Third, Dean has a bad feeling that the case isn't over, and Sam doesn't believe him.

The sheriff had just threatened to arrest them if they stayed in town, so of course going back to town is a big deal. When Dean turns around based on a bad feeling, Sam thinks he's just being paranoid.

SAM But Dean, this job, I think it's over. DEAN I'm not so sure. SAM If Bill murdered Peter Sweeney and Peter's spirit got its revenge, case closed. The spirit should be at rest. DEAN All right, so what if we take off and this thing isn't done? You know, what if we've missed something? What if more people get hurt? SAM But why would you think that? DEAN Because Lucas was really scared. SAM That's what this is about?

Dean sticks to his guns, and they arrive just in time to save Lucas's mother from drowning in a bathtub.

[prince-dork-the-companion]

Batfamily Presentation Night - Pizza - Cass

Masterlist

Cass: I'll go :)

Duke: Uh-oh.

Tim: Interested to see where this one goes.

Duke: Is this cheating? This feels like cheating.

Jason: When did you make this?

Cass: Before today. :)

Jason: I shouldn't be surprised.

Damian: That is a very useful visual.

Steph: I have nothing to say.

Duke: A good, hardworking employee.

Tim: We should get a cat and name it Cheese.

Damian: That is a horrible name for a cat.

Bruce: No.

Jason: Wh -

Duke: Are those turtles???

Bruce: Where did you get this image.

Cass: :)

Jason: B you have to explain.

Bruce: Cassandra.

Tim: So Bruce can have pet turtles, but when we do it's a problem? I see how it is.

Steph: Tim this is the perfect opportunity to go on your Jason Arc.

Jason: Your what?

Dick: Oh, I remember them! Those are the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! They're vigilantes in New York. Super cool guys. Have a bit of an addiction to pizza, though.

Cass: And the sewers.

Dick: Yeah they live in sewers, it's kinda gross, but they're nice.

Jason: Please tell me this photo isn't in the New York sewers.

Tim: The rats, the rats... we're the rats...

Dick: Oh, that's a good one of me.

Bruce: Dick.

Dick: If you mention the rules about eating on patrol I will throw a fork at you.

Steph: Haven't we already discussed that, Bruce?

Dick: Y- WAIT!

Jason: [cackling]

Dick: So you HAVE been stealing my pizza??

[general laughter]

Steph: Why does that image look so sad...

Babs: Don't diss the deep dish.

Jason: Steph, you're not gonna say ANYTHING about the order it's in?

Steph: Nah it looks fine.

Duke: This is favouritism.

Steph: Sauce on top of cheese is a far cry from PINEAPPLE, DUKE.

Duke: It's good!!

Jason: It's not.

Jason: Wh-

Tim: Why are you so angry... What did that burger do to you...

Jason: CASS??

Cass: :)

Jason: I can't believe I have to move AGAIN.

Dick: You don't have to move every time we find your apartment.

Jason: It's called PRIVACY, DICK.

Duke: I'm unsure if I should be more concerned about what "Nemo" means or the Pinterest deck.

Jason: Pintrest deck?

Tim: [wheezes]

Dick: Nemo... does Jason eat goldfish crackers on his pizza??

Jason: GOLDFISH? Have you NEVER seen the movie finding Nemo?

Dick: I don't remember what kind of fish he is. Sorry for not having that information STORED AWAY in my brain.

Jason: It's a clownfish, Dick. Kind of like you.

Dick: I'm more of a Dory, I think.

Jason: No, you're those annoying ass seagulls.

Steph: Mine? Mine?

Cass: :)

Steph: EXCUSE ME?

Jason: Digiorno? You WILLINGLY eat DIGIORNO??

Steph: NOT ALL OF US HAVE THE TIME OR SKILL TO HARVEST AND PREPARE THEIR OWN PIZZAS, JASON

Jason: SO BUY SOME.

Dick: There's a really good pizza place on Poplar called Moe's. They give me free pizza.

Jason: Moe's is shit and you know it. I'd eat fucking Dominoes before I eat Moe's.

Dick: YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

Steph: Fight fight fight fight!

Duke: [wheezing]

Tim: Huh what?

Jason: I think I'm gonna be sick.

Dick: It could be worse.

Jason: I don't think it can get any worse than this. I can't believe we're related.

Babs: Y-

Dick: ANYWAYS.

Steph: Tim, you need help.

Duke: He's not the only one.

Steph: Duke, I take back everything I've said about your taste in pizza, this is a war crime.

Duke: This feels backhanded somehow.

Duke: Oh.

Jason: Hm.

Duke: I'll take it.

Steph: THREE STARS?? AND I ONLY GOT TWO???

Duke: L.

Steph: I'm going to unionize against Duke's union.

Bruce: Duke's what?

Jason: Pesto?

Cass: Hm?

Jason: Green pizza sauce. Was it pesto? Tastes like herbs, really notably the basil. It's alright. Not my favourite, but it's alright.

Cass: ...Yes. I think so.

Damian: Only four stars... what do I have to do to receive five stars?

Duke: Dude, are you trying to RIG the competition?

Dick: It's okay Dami, we tied!

Damian: I wish crush all of your pizza flavours.

Jason: There's the answer, kid.

Damian: Hn.

Duke: I smell bias.

Steph: No, no, she's got a point.

Duke: I feel enlightened. Good presentation, 7/10.

Jason: [muttering] So tired of fucking moving...

Dick: You don't have to move, little wing.

Jason: Fuck off.

Steph: I am going to hold off making my judgements but all of you know that Cass's presentation is the best.

Damian: I will go next, as mine is the objectively superior one.

TO BE CONTINUED?

[blackdagger456]

Let's Talk About: MHA 430, How This Fandom Can't Read, How Leaks Ruin Chapters And While Imperfect This Finale Was A Good Sendoff

So, here we are.

Ten years. Ten years and 430 chapters we've been with My Hero Academia. Ten long years of excitement, fandom interactions and so many fics I won't bother to count saved, subscribed and bookmarked.

It's strange really. To be apart of this fandom for so long...and find out that so many still can't read.

Like holy cheeseburgers Batman, so many of my fellow MHA readers/fans can't read it's astonishing.

So, for what'll be the last time for this series, let's go over the latest chapter of MHA and allow me to inform you of what it means. Or at least, that was the plan before the leaks came out. Just with the added addition of going over how people have reacted to chapter 430 before it was even officially out, and we're going to start with the first stone that began toppling Dominos.

[Official Spoilers Below]

This. Oh god, this sentence has been nothing but a headache for me and so many others. Because of the leaks ,and subsequent mistranslations, being taken as fact the reaction to the finale started out as shit. This entire week leading up to today has been frustrating for me and many others as we tried to explain what should be obvious.

Firstly, none of this is coming from any official translation. What people were seeing before today were things fans and unlicensed translators are spreading around as if it's fact. This does NOT mean that they are correct and therefore these translations shouldn't be treated as such.

Secondly, in no way shape or form does Izuku imply or state that his friends abandoned him after he lost his powers. All he said, was that it was a bit more difficult to meet up regularly. Something that makes sense not only because they were working in different fields but also because work in general is like that.

It can be hard to meet up with the boys n girls for hang outs but that doesn't mean you don't talk. That doesn't mean you don’t call or text or keep in touch. Something which is easier to do when you've fought and lived through an entire war together!

His friends didn't abandon him. They didn't stop caring about him because he became powerless. Hell, the ending of the chapter proves this wrong if nothing else!

Now, is it a shame the ships didn't get officially confirmed? Yes. But I think the implications are more than enough to satisfy. Even if they aren't, there's no reason not have fun with things being open ended. It opens the door to so many fun possibilities OUTSIDE of this whole NTR trend people are trying to start. [Thankfully that's a small part of the fandom]

But moving on, lets go into what he's been doing since becoming OFA.

In what way shape or form does him becoming a teacher make him 'fall off'/make the Mc Donald’s meme become a reality?

 First off why are we hating on the man for enjoying his life without conflict after saving the world? We doing my boy like Gohan now? If he wants to retire to a teaching role, one he very clearly enjoys, let him. What do people think they can take him? Ya'll forgetting exactly what he had to do BEFORE he was able to get OFA in the first place. Izuku is still physically stronger than most normal people both in MHA and in reality.

But, I'm getting off topic. The point is Izuku has and continues to be an inspiration to those that will follow after him. Even to the point of mirroring his starting point with All Might when he inspires yet another young kid to become a hero.

Is he a bit sad he isn't an official hero? Yes. Is he frustrated or unhappy with where he is in life? No. Not at all. He's content. His goal was never to be the No.1 Hero it was to be like ALL MIGHT. To inspire and protect people like his mentor had.

He's done just that and for it---for it he's rewarded.

His kindness, his determination and his faith in those around him comes back to him in the best way for it was those people he spread said traits too that spent those eight years putting together the thing that would bring his dream back to him.

That would bring HIM back to standing by their side on the field of battle. For Izuku Midoriya never truly stopped standing by his friends. For they too had become their own inspirations to Japan and the world. But now, finally, their friend...their inspiration...their Deku could lead them on the frontlines once more.

They, and he, couldn't ask for anything less.

[momojedi]

— WINTER FLU

topic. fluffcember, day 2

you're sick and the dominoes are ready to help!

**

pairing. domino twins x gn! padawan! reader type. sfw, fluff, sickfic note. hello, I'm alive ... somewhat. I"ve decided to join @fluff-cember though. so that's something. I hope you like my brain rot, I really need some lovey dovey content right about now. warnings. none word count. 364

star wars masterlist || pinned post

Everything had been going wrong today.

Training had been a mess as you seemed to be incapable of fulfilling any stunt your master had thrown at you.

You’d managed to embarrass yourself in front of not only your men but all the present GAR officials by reintroducing your entire last meal when you started feeling dizzy and sick.

And worst of all? You were now damned to a day of bed rest when said men had gotten tasked with taking care of you by your master upon your little mishap. And not just any men.

“And here’s your soup!” You grimaced as Fives placed the metal tray with a hot bowl of beverage on the nightstand next to the medical bed you’d been damned to. “No way,” you sassed, dramatically pushing the tray away, though not without wrinkling your nose in disgust.

“Oh, yes way.” With a strict tone, Echo — who’d been sitting on the edge of the bed and pressing a wet cloth against your forehead to cool your already burning skin — took the spoon and bowl. But as soon as the soup approached your face, you wailed and slapped his hand away. Echo sighed.

“You’re going to have to eat something, commander.”

“Nuh-uh.” Fives snorted at your response before sitting down on the other side of the bed. “Yuh-uh,” he mocked before brushing a matted strand of hair out of your sweaty face, “if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for us. Pleaaaasseee?”

You furrowed your brows for a second and eyed the spoon Echo still held up to your lips suspiciously. Then, you abruptly leaned over and gulped down the soup before furrowing your brows. “Force, that’s disgusting.”

Echo grinned apologetically. “Yeah, those are the flu rations they give out when Bacta doesn’t do the trick… they taste like soggy bantha meat if you ask me.” You choked out a giggle. “More like rancid blue milk.” “Or rotten bloatgourd!” Fives added as he leaned over.

Your fits of giggles quickly turned into full blown laughter at that. Suddenly you couldn’t help but think that just maybe, this sick day won’t end up as bad as it began.

[anton-luvr]

best!friend sohee who gets jealous and pulls reader to the side, confessing he likes her ( it doesn't have to be but if you want could you make it tiny bit suggestive?

# DREAM COME TRUE.

𖦹 bestfriend!sohee x fem!reader | fluff & suggestive & a lil bit of angst 𖦹 note ; another day another sohee fic <3 ngl im quite proud with myself on this one... i hope u like it anon! + reqs are open! join my 100 followers event here !

The heat is almost unbearable as you clamber up to your attic.

Of all times to have a heatwave, Mother Nature just had to pull one while you were in the midst of moving out.

"Sohee! I need help with this box!" you yelled.

"Coming!" your best friend shouts in reply, running up the stairs.

"It's okay, I'll help you." Seunghan interjects, already at the entrance of the attic.

"Thanks," you sigh, smiling tiredly at your other best friend. "This one's insanely heavy."

Yet with complete ease, he lifts it up in his arms. "Don't worry about it," he assures you. "That's why I'm here to help anyway."

Sohee clears his throat, waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, she called for me first." he states.

"It's fine, I got it." Seunghan shrugs.

Sohee scoffs.

He knows that Seunghan's your childhood best friend, but Sohee really disliked him.

"Are you gonna take this box with you?" Seunghan sets the dusty box down, sneezing as the dust billows in his face.

The snicker on Sohee's face is rubbed right off when he sees you rub Seunghan's shoulder with a soft, "Bless you!".

"I don't know," you hummed. "Let me check what's inside of it first."

A surprised gasp escapes your lips when you're met by the sight of countless Polaroids and stacks of photo albums.

"Seunghan, look!" you say excitedly, pulling one out. "It's photos from that beach trip when we were in third grade!"

The elder sits closer to you, a fond smile of surprise and awe on his face as he rests his head on your shoulder.

"Wow, that was so long ago." he murmurs.

Sohee scrunches his nose in jealousy, sitting beside you.

"See, I told you that you dropped my pizza!" you laughed, pointing at a photo of a nine-year-old you wailing beside Seunghan, a slice of pizza by your feet while he smiled sheepishly.

"You owe me one now." you teased, pinching his arm lightly.

"Fine, fine." he agrees, jokingly rolling his eyes.

As if your stomach was listening to the conversation, it growled. "It's a sign," you say confidently. "You need to buy pizza for our lunch now."

Seunghan giggles at you as he gets up. "What do you want?" he asks, dusting off his jeans.

"Anything's fine." you say absentmindedly, back to flipping through another photo album.

He hums in response, walking downstairs. "I'll be back in half an hour!" he shouts, before closing the door behind him and driving off to the local Domino's.

"He didn't even ask if I wanted any!" Sohee complains. "He kinda sucks, Y/N."

You click your tongue, hitting his shoulder. "He'll get some for you, don't worry."

He's about to argue with you again when you cut him off short, holding up a polaroid to his face.

"Look, isn't this cute? It's me and Seunghan at prom!"

It is a cute picture, but Sohee boils with jealousy when he sees Seunghan's arms around your waist.

He has to fight the urge to make a sarcastic remark, because this was probably the only time he was going to get alone with you today.

"Yeah, it's cute." he agrees, forcing a smile.

If he had to look at another photo of you and Seunghan being cute together, he thinks he's going to be sick.

"Hey, why not we go downstairs and watch a movie?" the boy suggests.

Thankfully, your eyes light up at his suggestion, nodding readily.

By the time Seunghan makes it back, the both of you are already halfway through 'Finding Nemo'.

"You're back!" you cheer, getting up to help him with the pizzas.

Sohee sighs for the umpteenth time, lazily getting off the couch and trailing into the kitchen.

He's not sure what he's exactly upset about.

If anything, he's not even sure if he's upset or insecure.

Because for almost a year, Sohee had been crushing on you.

He loved your smile. He loved the way you were always so positive and practical about things. He loved you.

But to suddenly see this handsome, smart, and funny guy who happened to be your childhood best friend get all touchy and close with you made him feel like he stood no chance in comparison.

"Sohee," you call, holding plates. "You good?"

"Yup," Sohee lies, mustering another fake smile. "Just thinking about something."

"Here, take this slice." Seunghan says, putting a slice of Hawaiian pizza on your plate.

"You still remember my favorite, huh?" you chuckle.

"I remember your favorite too!" Sohee suddenly shouts.

He had gotten up so abruptly from his seat that the chair toppled over, startling you even more. His face was as red as the tomato sauce on the pizza, his eyes wide and his fists clenched.

"Are you oka-"

"N-No, I'm not okay. Can I talk with you upstairs for a while?" he manages to say, a mix of anger and adrenaline rushing through his system.

Seunghan stares at the both of you warily as you make your way upstairs after Sohee.

"I think you should go," you mouth to Seunghan.

He flashes you a thumbs up, packing up some pizza for himself to take home.

The soft clicking of your front door closing after Seunghan leaving is the same time when Sohee flops down on your bed, burying his face in his hands.

"Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" you ask, worried.

He stays silent.

"You've been upset ever since Seunghan came over." you say, sitting down beside him.

"Well, because I like you!" he blurts.

Neither of you says another word, merely staring at each other in surprise.

Sohee wants to facepalm himself, because this was definitely not the way he wanted to confess to you.

But since he already did, he might as well salvage whatever he could, continue, and hope for the best.

"I really like you, Y/N." he starts. "And I'm upset because you seem so much closer with Seunghan, and he's so much handsomer and funnier than me, and I was wondering if you liked him or whether he liked you, because it seemed like it."

He's breathless by the end of his ramble, contributing to how red his face was.

"I know that's really immature of me, but I really like you so much. I wanna be with you," he continues earnestly. "I wanna be the one who makes you laugh like that, the one who can look after you, the one who treats you better than anyone else can."

Your heart melts at his words, and you gently stroke his cheek.

"Sohee, you always have." you whisper, taking his hands into yours.

"Really?" he mutters.

You nod, squeezing his hand. "And don't worry about Seunghan. I only see him as a friend, that's all. It's the same for him too. We just grew up together that way."

Sohee lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding, a sense of relief washing over him.

"Besides," you add. "I like cute boys over handsome boys."

His eyes widen, hoping you meant what he thought you meant.

"Yeah, I like you too." you giggled, pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

Sohee's eyes widen even more, and he thinks they just might pop out of his head.

"Did you just kiss me?" he mumbles, frozen in disbelief.

The smile on your face falters, and you worry you took it too far.

"I'm so sorry, are you uncomfortable with that?"

Sohee doesn't even waste time on his words, opting to show you his reply to that instead.

He kisses you again, so full of passion and love while he pulls you in closer to him by the waist. You wrap your arms around his neck, eyes shut as you take in how his lips felt against yours.

You always found his lips pretty, but to feel them against yours was something else.

The warmth of his tongue, the softness of his lips, the comfortingly musky scent of his sweater, and the flavor of his vanilla chapstick were enough to make your head spin.

Somewhere through the kiss, Sohee ended up lying down while you stayed on top of him, both your lips and tongues never separated.

"I think we need to stop." he suddenly says, breathless as he reluctantly pulls away.

"W-What? Why?" you ask, already missing kissing him.

"If we keep going, I think we're gonna end up doing more than just kissing." he pants.

It takes you a while to get what he means, but you really don't care when you do.

"I'm fine with anything as long as it's with you." you mumble, trying to kiss him again.

"Are you sure?" Sohee asks, dodging your kiss. He didn't want to pressure you into anything; your comfort was going to always be his first priority.

"More than sure, babe." you whisper against his lips.

Sohee's heart almost explodes at the new term, smiling as he lets you lead the kiss.

It was all a dream come true for him, with the girl of his dreams.

© anton-luvr, 2023.

[cyber97luts]

 ∞༺♥︎༻✧𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐫𝐚

˚✧❨✧˚—✞—°warnings: suggestive maybe?

.•*¨`*•. ☆ .•*¨`*•..•*¨`*•. ☆ .•*¨`*•..•*¨`*•. ☆

"Y/n...i have feelings for you..."

San's heart was beating out of his chest. His breathing quickened as he felt fear course through his body. He scanned her face, not pleased with her reaction. The silence was deafening.

"San um...I don't, um...I don't really know..." This was the last thing she would've ever expected. She was caught completely off guard, almost feeling a little stupid for not realizing his feelings earlier.

"I don't feel the same..." She finally whispered. Y/n was desperately avoiding eye contact, too scared to take in his reaction. Finally she looked up at the sound of a soft sigh.

"I understand Y/n...i honestly expected it..." San whispered, doing his best to mask the disappointed tone of his voice. "A-are you sure...i don't wanna cause any...awkwardness between us" Y/n muttered quietly, nervously fiddling with the rings on her fingers.

"I'm positive..." San whispered softly. A somewhat uncomfortable silence lingered in the air, the tension only growing the longer they sat there. "so what now..." the sudden break in silence caused San to look up at y/n. "well...we could go back to your place and...y'know...if its okay with you of course..." San suggested cautiously.

This caused y/n to chuckle quietly, "'m glad i'm not the only one who was thinking about that..."

★masterlist

☆ hey cuties, im back. i passed my business class‼️ so i feel the wait was lowkey worth it. this is so random but the aye domino meme circling around stayville is genuinely hilarious to me. and lastly, IM SEEING ATEEZ LITERALLY TODAY (its 5 am i need to gts) IM GONNA BE AT THE VENUE IN LITERALLY 13 HOURS LIKE WHAT⁉️

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕...

:;@allyrarara @lily-loves-kpop @111skz @aalexyuuuhm @mingis-mizu @jiisungllvr loading. . .

[cartoon-buffoon]

Today marks the 97th birthday of Oswald The Lucky Rabbit with his first short that was released being "trolly troubles" releasing on today all the way back during 1927. Because I'm too lazy to do some art (I do have something planned for today though) I'm gonna do what I do best: talk! Talk specifically about why I absolutely love this silly rabbit and what he personally means to me.

Now although fictional (sadly) and just a mere character, Oswald The Lucky Rabbit has grown a large following for a variety of different reasons with several different types of Oswald fans popping up over the years. There's the fans of Ozzie who love his modern counterpart in Epic Mickey who is a genuine character with complexities, there's the history/animation nerds like I who love his short cartoons produced by Disney and later made Walter Lantz. There's even people who love Ozzie and were introduced to him from that one webcomic made by an awful individual (I can't think for the life of me what the comic is called RN, you know what I'm talking about right? The one where they drew him as a skinny twink and absolutely butchered Osix as a crackship). Whoever or whatever version they like at the end of the day it still boils down to the love of one little rabbit who started it all and was the catalyst for the mouse coming into existence and that giant domino effect of events leading after. I think it's sweet an entire community has been built up over the years with tons of talented people creating art, games, stories, and whatever else utilizing Ozzie solely because they love him. Oswald as character has even had a profound impact on me with my fanfiction hobby all stemming from one day me going "hmmm... I wish to write story about funy buny", and because of that it's lead to me writing more which in turned earned me a good few mutuals who like my "talent" (I would not call what I do talent lmao). I even bonded with someone I met from my school purely because we both love Oswald and that individual is now my best friend who I talk to daily and is my current beta reader (love you Quartz!!!).

Oswald has absolutely changed my life for the better and what the rabbit has done for me is nothing I could express with words. I legit regularly get motivated by listening to his theme song in order to "be lucky too!". The second I dug into his origins I fell in love with him (in two different ways), and I only hope more people find out about this Lucky rabbit and become just as if not moreso invested than I. Happy 97th ya old toon.

[jelepermets]

Today, as a treat, I am going to walk on well-tread ground and rant about how Grantaire symbolizes the People of France. And how it is this that makes this chapter so sublime.

Three chapters before this one, Hugo speaks about how Revolution does not always find a welcome audience. How, without the People. an emeute is just that. It may have loft ideals attached to it, but it must fail. If the people aren't ready, if they lock their doors and rail at the revolutionaries outside in fear and apathy and anger, then nothing can be done.

Hugo admits that this is natural. We must let humans care about their own lives and not just the future. All of this can be handled, as long as in the end Progress continues.

"A people, like a star, has the right of eclipse. And all is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not degenerate into night. Dawn and resurrection are synonyms. The reappearance of the light is identical with the persistence of the self." [5.1.20]

This is reflective of Grantaire's apathy, his defining trait as a nihilist. It also reflects Hugo's implication that this is not Grantaire's natural state of being. Remember:

"Besides Enjolras, Grantaire became someone again." [3.4.1]

Not only does this tie Grantaire's existence inextricably with the Revolution, but it implies that this existence is superior, is more natural than his current one.

Grantaire also has more interactions with the People than the rest of les Amis do. See when he was meant to stir up revolutionary ideals and instead went to play dominoes. Yes he failed, but he also reflects the prevailing thought. France was not ready for a revolution. Enjolras ignored this. Lofty ideas could not reconcile themselves to the reality.

‌

All this paints a very bleak picture of course. And yet, in Grantaire's death we get that undeniable hope, which makes it all so beautiful.

We, as real people reading this book, understand that Grantaire is probably still drunk. Yet Hugo impressing upon, insisting upon Grantaire's clarity is so crucial. This, at the moment of his death, is the most lucid Grantaire has been.

Another thing that strikes me, is that thought Grantaire asks permission to die with Enjolras, he seals his own death warrant before doing so, by crying out 'Vive la Republique.' He doesn't actually ask permission to join the movement.

When the People rise, they will do so spontaneously. That crucial ingredient that is missing amongst the population has been lit in Grantaire, and it is a sign of what is to come, it is hope. He's leading the pack with his singular death, and like he measured the mood beforehead, his death can be (and to me is) read as an omen of what is to come. The eclipse - in Hugo's words - will end.

Of course, asking permission to die with Enjolras is also crucial. Not only because of the poetry of them being narrative foils, but because it works as a surrogate for the people of Paris acknowledging the bravery of those who push forward towards Progress while they refuse to budge. Again, as Hugo writes:

"However that may be, even when fallen, particularly when fallen, august are the ones who, all around the world, with eyes fixed on France, struggle for the great work with the inflexible logic of the ideal; they give their life as a pure fit for progress; they accomplish the will of Providence; they perform a religious act." [5.1.20]

Through Grantaire's death, the People come out of their fear and recognize this. Not literally, but in spirit. And if not to all of us, then to Enjolras.

Because Enjolras is, of course, crucial to this reading. Speaking of Grantaire as the People when he is merely one of many characters who are the People, it's important to ask for whom is he? Because he's certainly not for Valjean. Or Marius. Or Cosette. Or Javert. Or even the National Guards or the King or perhaps not even to the audience (if you think I'm overdoing it I respect it). But he is to Enjolras.

Enjolras is stoic throughout the whole ordeal. He speaks of glory in death. He is still devoted to his mistress, Patria. And yet his ideals have been shattered. The People were not ready. The Revolution will not come. He will die bravely, but he will have failed.

But then Grantaire stands up and says he's with them and requests permission to die by Enjolras' side.

And in that moment Enjolras' convictions are justified. If someone who has been the object of scorn, who has been apathetic, who has done little at all except annoy Enjolras and fail to stir up revolutionary thought; if Grantaire can rise up and die with him, then others will too. Perhaps not now, but in the future.

Grantaire becomes someone again when he dies next to Enjolras. And someday the people will rise.

[agerefandomrambles]

Title: Domino Effect

Word count: 1648

Little: Bob, Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, Payback, Fanboy, Coyote

Cg! Maverick, Iceman, Penny, Slider

Warnings: involuntary regression, obligatory military warnings

Plot: Bob regresses during a meeting and sets off a domino effect, leaving Mav, Ice, slider, and Penny to watch 7 little ones

"Bob! Jesus christ, talk to me!" Phoenix screeches as the plane rolls to the side, Mavericks plane barely missing them as it zips past.

"Sorry! He's already coming around 'Nix, you gotta go up" Bob replies, snapping out of the daze he was in and trying so hard to focus on the enemy plane that he doesn't realise he used his nickname for Phoenix.

Phoenix just frowns softly and files that bit of information away for later, focusing on pulling the plane up and into the sky in an effort to escape Maverick.

It doesn't work of course, and Maverick ends up shooting them down only 2 minutes later.

"Copy kill" Phoenix sighs, pulling the plane down to land.

They land the plane quickly and the next team goes up. Bob starts to walk back to the lecture room but Phoenix places a hand on his shoulder, gently stopping him.

"Bobby... what's going on?" She asks softly, her eyes full of concern for her WSO

"I'm fine Phoenix. I'm just a bit spacey today that's all" He reassures her. He shrugs off her hand and starts walking towards the lecture room.

She frowns but follows him silently. She can't force him to admit what's wrong, so she settles for staying close to him so she can catch him when he does inevitably end up slipping.

The pair walk into the lecture room. Bob sits down and pulls out his lunch box, nibbling on a sandwich he packed. Phoenix walks over to Rooster, gently pulling him over to a corner where no one can hear them.

"Roo. I'm worried about Bob. He's on the verge of slipping and to be honest, so am I. I don't know what to do."

"Oh. Uhhh... how close is he to slipping? How close are you to slipping?" Rooster stammers.

"I don't know. He's spacey and he called me 'Nix and he just seems out of it" Phoenix sighs, her eyes darting over to Bob, whos still sitting in his seat and eating a sandwich while staring at the wall.

"OK, well Maverick only had 2 more flights left. One with Hangman and the other with Coyote. We can watch him until Mav gets back." Roosters says, injecting some confidence into his words.

Together the two walk up to the boy. "Bob? It's Roo, you ok?" Rooster asks softly, squatting down to his level.

Bob's eyes move from the wall to Rooster slowly and he gives Rooster an absent smile. "Hi Roo," he says in that certain soft voice.

"Hi Buddy. Are you feeling small?" Phoenix asks Bob, smiling at him gently. Bob pauses for a moment, his brows furrowing as he thinks but he nods, his cheeks turning a soft pink.

"Awe it's alright Bubba. Big brother Roo's got ya" Rooster coos. He sits down next to Bob and pulls out his own lunch. The two eat together while Rooster talks and asks Bob yes or no questions that he can nod or shake his head to.

Phoenix wanders off, finding herself sitting next to Payback and Fanboy as they heatedly debate some topic that's far too big for her to comprehend at that moment.

She must have spaced out because next thing she knows, there's a soft tap on her arm to get her attention.

She turns around, eyes focusing from where she had been just staring at the wall. She has to hold back a groan though when she sees Bob standing next to her, holding Roosters hand while Rooster is looking down at the floor, tears in his eyes.

"Hi 'Nix. Roo slipped and he's littler then me." Bob says, his eyes wide as he gazes up at Phoenix.

Phoenix opens her mouth to say something but to her surprise (and everyone else's), a loud sob bursts out of her mouth.

As soon as she's started, she can't stop. She sinks off the bar stool and onto the floor, sobbing into her hands as her hold on her headspace breaks and all of a sudden she's just a little kid expected to watch two other babies.

The whole bar just watches in shock for a moment, and it's Coyote moving that snaps everyone out of their daze.

Coyote immediately moves to her side and crouches down next to her in an effort to both comfort her and shield her from the rest of the bargoers. In the same movement, Fanboy and Payback launch forward and gather up Rooster and Bob, herding the two littles into the booth that they had grabbed in the hopes of keeping them from crying too. Penny busies herself with ringing the bell to grab everyone's attention.

"Anyone that isn't a part of the current Top Gun class needs to get out of my bar right now" She shouts, ushering everyone out in a matter of minutes.

That's the sight that Maverick and Hangman walk into. A rapidly slipping Coyote trying to comfort a distraught Phoenix who is sobbing on the floor, Fanboy doing his best to entertain a regressed Rooster (who is pouting and trying to eat floor chips), Payback (who is playing with Bob's glasses) and Bob (whos fast asleep on the table) and Penny trying to get everyone else out of the bar.

The pair just kinda stand in the entryway for a second, then Hangman scurries away from Maverick's side and joins the littles in the booth, also having slipped the second he walked into the bar.

Maverick lets out a long-suffering sigh, then whistles to get everyone's attention. The entire bar instantly goes silent as everyone freezes and looks up at him.

"Who here can honestly say that they are fully big right now?" He asks, his head sweeping the group of 8. Penny hesitantly raises her hand and everyone else stares at the floor.

"Seriously? 7 flips and every single one of you slipped?" Maverick groans, already pulling his phone out to call for backup. He speaks quietly into the phone before quickly hanging up.

"Alright, us adults are outnumbered so headcount Kiddos" Mav says not unkindly. The 7 littles immediately number off with Rooster being number 1 and Phoenix being number 7.

"Cool, we've got everyone here. Ok, how little are we talking?" Maverick asks, moving to join Penny while his mind is racing and planning.

Fanboy is the first to speak up after a few moments of unsure silence. "I'm around 10". Phoenix is next, Coyote having carried her over to the booth after she'd calmed down a little. "I'm 5!" she giggles. "I'm 2" Payback whispers, hiding his face in her neck. Bob pipes up with "I'm 4ish?" Coyote hesitates a second, not wanting to butt out before muttering, "I'm 8". Hangman immediately hi-fives him, saying, "Same bro". Rooster doesn't say anything, just staring around with wide eyes, clearly far too little for words at the moment.

Maverick sighs for what feels like the millionth time, turning to Penny when he realises almost everyone is on the lower edge of their age ranges. "Can you make up 4 bottles for me?" He asks her quietly. When she nods, he turns back to the pack of littles slotted into the booth. "Fanboy, Coyote and Hangman, you feel up for some fries and water?"

The three oldest kids nod, chambering out of the booth and jostling to the counter where Penny has already put a basket of chips and 3 (plastic) glasses of water.

Penny and Mav walk over to the booth with 2 bottles each and a calm settles over the group as everyone eats and the older kids and caregivers chatter quietly.

After 5 minutes, Ice and Slider walk in. Slider walks right in and takes a seat next to the 3 unattended boys, stealing a chip and chattering quietly to them.

Ice walks quietly over to Maverick and Penny, taking note of the fact that Bob is fast asleep against Penny and Rooster is asleep in Mavericks arms. "What happened?" Ice asks, amusement clear in his face.

"Bob regressed and set off a domino effect. Unfortunately, they all regressed and they all regressed to the younger end of their age ranges." Maverick sighs, careful to keep his voice low and not wake the baby in his arms.

"Can you help us get the kids back to our house? We can have a sleepover sort of situation. Penny already agreed to help watch them and I think you'd have to fight slider to get him to miss you" He adds.

Ice agrees and takes Phoenix and Packback in his arms, the 2 toddlers blinking slowly and sucking on their thumbs as they fight sleep. He places the 2 in his car and drives them to his and Mavericks house. Penny takes Bob because he's already asleep on her. He wakes up in the car but falls asleep again quickly. Maverick takes Rooster and Fanboy (he tried to take Coyote but he threw a fit at being separated from Hangman). Slider takes Hangman and Coyote, the two aging up slightly on the ride to around 12.

The 4 adults load the 7 kids out together and herd them into the house.

Hangman, Coyote, and Fanboy all start building a pillowfort for the sleep over immediately with Iceman supervising them. Bob and Rooster are laid down for a nap by Slider. Maverick and Penny make dinner with some help from Payback and Phoenix.

Within a half hour, everyone is fed and bundled up in the living room. Ice puts on Tangled and by the end of the movie, everyone is asleep in a tangle of limbs and blankets.

It might be the most chaotic babysitting he's ever had to do but looking down at his best friends, husband and adopted kids, comfortably asleep in his loving room, Maverick can't imagine a better way to spend a Saturday night

[jesssssssssica]

juno! j.b p1

word count: 1.02k

it started with a chair.

the fact that i’m staring at two lines on a stick covered in my pee is because of a chair.

shit.

what am i meant to do now?

“what am i going to do?” i ask my friend through the phone.

“maybe it's just a food baby, what'd you have for lunch yesterday?" she replies, the phone rested on her shoulder as she painted her nails a pastel pink.

"i wish it was a food baby but i've taken three tests and it's showing nothing but two lines" i said sighing.

"wait- how did you produce so much pee?"

"i just drank loads of apple juice - anyway that's beside the point, i'm pregnant"

holy shit.

that feels unbelievable to say, i am pregnant.

"y/n" the voice takes me out of my little daydream.

"yeah" i reply

"who's the father?"

those three words suck me down memory lane.

it was just meant to be two nerdy virgins getting it on and now look at the consequences, of course we couldn't blame society for not telling us to "wrap it before you tap it" because we were forced through the painfully awkward sex ed lessons. we could only blame ourselves for believing the 'pull out method' was a reliable method of contraception. what an idiot.

but i couldn't deny it wasn't one of the best things i had experienced in my life, and that the way he made me feel when i reached the edge was almost mind-blowing, in fact i kept questioning whether or not he was a virgin. he was just that good, it would've been amazing if he didn't have such fast swimmers.

"it's jude's"

jude bellingham or jude victor william bellingham if you're like that. he was one of those guys that you wouldn't notice in a crowd full of men but if you were one of the lucky ones that did then you would be so happy. he was one of those guys that can read you even if you are so careful about not showing any emotion, he will know. i used to joke and say how it was superpower and he would just smile at me with those pearly whites. the same pearly whites that were hidden by his perfectly plump lips, that pulled me in and started the domino effect that led up all the way to now.

my friends laugh reminds me i'm not alone.

"what made you and bellingham bone? i didn't know he was you type"

she wasn't wrong. on any normal day you wouldn't feel such emotions for jude but that day was different, in fact i wanted nothing more than to kiss him until we were left breathless and he made my knees week.

"i don't know just something that happened" i reply a red blush appearing on my face

"you love him!"

"i don't think that's the most important thing to come out of this conversation."

"sorry, but what was he like?"

"he was amazing"

it was true, he was the best thing i've ever experienced.

"what are you going to do?"

"i don't know but i need your help."

jude was a footballer, a good one at that, but his routine was one from hell. he would wake up early, the kind of early that even in the summer mornings, the sun still hasn't rose. that kind of early. when he told me about his mornings, i felt like crying. he puts on his stupid high shorts and puts on his bright orange sweatbands; one around his head and a sweatband on both his arms and legs.

if i remember correctly, he then heats up one of those quick and easy waffles and then begins his laps around the neighbourhood. and that's why i'm sat here, on that same chair that ruined my life.

"hey jude"

"oh hey y/n oh that's a nice rug that tiger looks proud"

" i know right, i took it from mrs martins doorstep" he nods awkwardly in response to my words. i continue to speak "your shorts are looking especially shiny today, what's up with that?"

"oh thanks. my mum used some colour bleach thing, i don't know what it's called." he shrugs after he speaks, one arm rested on the back of his neck.

"so.. do you want to know something?" lord, give me strength.

"i mean sure, i guess"

"i'm pregnant"

i observe his face as he takes in the news. i don't know how he feels, his face is not letting anything show, his eyes void of emotion and maybe even soul. the only things he's doing is fidgeting with his hands, sometimes cracking his knuckles.

just as he opens his mouth to reply, jude's fellow runners appeared, their junks peeking through the shorts, that seem to get shorter and shorter everyday. those shorts make me picture them naked, whether i like it or not. he turns back to me and says,

"i- i'm meant to be running now"

"i know"

the air is tense, it's choking me. we both don't know where to look or what to say. luckily, he breaks it soon after.

"so.. what do you think we should do?"

hmmm. he's not as douchey as some say he is.

"i think, i might just nip it in the bud before it.. you know turns into what some people say is a baby. do you know that pregnancies can cause infants to roam the earth?"

he chuckles and i realise i haven't heard a sound as sweet as that damn chuckle.

"hm. i've heard that too, apparently we were one of them when we were younger"

i smile. my first real smile in a while. it's a peaceful smile.

"so you're okay with everything?"

"course, it's you that's the one going through it, so you do you."

i don't whether or not to speak again but i do.

"i'm sorry for having sex with you."

"i'm not"

"i'll see you at school"

i ride off on the bicycle i had kept rested on the armchair, leaving jude to his own thoughts.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Something Blue, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

A/N: Ohhh, so y'all forced this out of me, what with all the talk about the "Blue Scarf" and expanding the "Scarf Universe" thrown at me this week! 😂 (I hear you, I hear you!) Be careful what you wish for, lil' darlin's!! Honestly, though, I've known since I ended Pink Scarf that this was something that was going to happen in this particular way to our dear Reader and E, I just never knew if it was going to see the light of day. And with this week's prompt, all the inspiration and stars seemed to align at once on Sunday, so this came out rather quick and may be rough, and it's possible I might go back and tweak it later, but I'm happy with it for now. I hope this satiates you for the moment. I hope it gives you all the feels. And, yes, perhaps I may expand this little Blue Scarf into a series and include a spicy story or two later, if you all are good lil' babies for me. 😏 💙🧣💙 Let me know in the comments and reblogs...😉

Thanks always to my sister wives @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny for allowing me to skirt by late with this week's prompt. 😇

Prompt: “How are we going to solve this problem?”

Rating: PG (ish?) || Word Count: 2.7k

TW: Fluff, angst (always), infidelity (sort of??), no smut (so sorry loves)

Something Blue, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

August 1971

It’s fitting, you think, that today of all days, you’re wearing his blue silk scarf in your hair. Elvis hasn’t worn it much since that fateful summer a couple of years ago—and only for a few more shows and a couple nights out—so you had absconded with it and made it your own, as you’d managed to do with many of his things. You loved how it smelled of him, the silk doused in his musk and cologne, and how it reminded you of the not-wearing-a-shirt-under-a-jacket/jumpsuit phase he gone through that summer and fall of ‘69. Lord, you’d loved that phase. It had been so easy to lay him bare before you.

Heat floods your cheeks at the thought of what this particular scarf has seen between the two of you, and then at the fact that this might be the worst possible time for a thought like that to pop into your head. You know it’s the shock of the bomb that just dropped on your lives that has your brain short circuiting a little. Because neither of you ever expected this.

You nervously twist the platinum and diamonds on your ring finger, the ones which pledged his love for you in front of your family, friends, and the world. Thoughts fill your mind of your lovely, small wedding, how this scarf had been there for that important moment, too, tied around your waist, cinching your white dress—being both your “something borrowed” and your “something blue.” Elvis loved that you’d included it, this piece of him, as part of your gown.

He also loved untying it at the end of the night and letting it flutter to your feet with the rest of your dress.

It’s counterpart, the pink scarf, had been tucked into the pocket of his suit jacket, a little secret for you both. You’d enjoyed it, as well, later that night.

“Y/n, did y-you hear me? I-I-I-It’s me,” Elvis says, snapping you out of your memories, his hand lingering on the phone he’d just placed back on its cradle. “How are w-w-we going to solve this problem?”

The wavering fear in his voice is palpable and in any other circumstance it might scare you, but a strange sense of calm falls over you. Somehow the domino effect of both of your actions two years ago have led you to this very moment. Tragic as it is, it seems meant to be.

Just like you and Elvis.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you breathe deeply. Yes, there is a part of you that is still jealous and angry about what brought you here. But you knew, even back then, that it was possible he’d been with others in your month-long absence, that his fear of losing you plus old habits could have driven him into the arms of another. It wasn’t a new revelation, just one neither of you had wanted to talk about after all was said and done. And it hadn’t been an issue since, so you figured bringing it up would be more trouble than it was worth.

Pushing that hurt aside, a much bigger feeling swells within you—one you’ve been hesitant to name for fear that it would not come to fruition. But now everything has changed.

“It’s not a problem,” you state, your voice surprisingly steady.

“W-w-what?” Elvis questions, those oceanic eyes of his widening in disbelief.

“It’s a gift, Elvis. From the most unlikely and sad circumstances, yes, but a gift all the same. Isn’t it?” You’re not quite sure if you are trying to convince him or if you are just stating the obvious, but those feelings continue to rise in you and have for days. And they overshadow the fading fissure of anger and the burgeoning fear that you refuse to let consume you.

Hope. Joy.

“A gift?” he repeats, letting the words roll on his tongue, letting them sink in. He blinks slowly, gaze shifting off into the distance for a moment. Then, he looks down at the paperwork on the table. At the picture. “Oh. Oh.”

A shuddering breath shakes his shoulders, his ring clad fingers clawing at his knees. It’s when the tears pool in his eyes, finally betraying his sensitive vulnerability after so many days of keeping it in, that you slide out of your chair and rush to his side.

He immediately buries his head into your belly, his arms circling around your waist, clinging to you. A sob wrenches out of him, one so deep that it brings tears to your eyes.

“I-I-I’m so s-sorry. I-I didn’t think...I-I-I din’t know,” he hiccups. You’re not sure if he’s apologizing to you or her or him. Maybe his apology is for all of you.

“Shhh, hush, it’s okay,” you coo, tears trickling absently down your cheeks. You run your fingers through his soft hair before pulling back, cupping his cheeks so he is forced to look at you.

He is so wide-eyed and young-looking staring up at you, his eyes now matching the scarf in your hair with their electric blue, a dramatic contrast against the redness caused by his tears.

“It’s not a problem, honey, it’s a gift. He is a gift,” you say, wiping the tears that linger on his prominent cheekbones. “We can do this. I want to do this. If you do.”

Elvis blinks up at you, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. If he’s a part of you, he’s a part of me, too. And—and,” you choke up, swallowing your past sorrows, “you know it’s something I’ve always wanted. Something I never thought we could have. This is…a chance to make something wonderful out of something tragic.”

You’re aware the reality is likely going to be much more complicated than either of you can fathom in this moment. There is a part of you that is utterly terrified it won’t live up to the miracle you want it to be and that you won’t be worthy of the task. But that is not what Elvis needs to hear, not right now. Your insecurities can wait.

Elvis looks down at the picture resting on the table of the young woman and her baby. Your gaze follows. The first time you saw it, you knew, based solely on the fact that the woman looked so much like a younger version of you, that something had happened between them in those weeks you’d escaped from Vegas to California, when you left him, trying to figure out if you could forgive him. When you were trying to recover from your life turning upside down.

Her likeness plus the look of horrified guilt on his face upon seeing the picture told you all you needed to know about that. His begging and pleading for forgiveness at your feet solidified it.

But it had been the way Vernon had blanched white as a sheet when seeing the baby that you understood the true consequence of Elvis’ dalliance.

It was a punch in the gut, at first. Of course, it was. But logically you knew that he’d been hurting in those weeks without you, unsure if you’d ever come back to him. It wasn’t altogether surprising that he’d sought out comfort from a girl who looked so much like you.

You wanted to be furious at the fact she had gotten pregnant by him so easily, but you knew that was a futile road to go down, especially after what happened to her.

According to the letter she’d given to her lawyer, who had sent it on to Elvis, the cancer within her spread like wildfire. It was too late to save her by the time her pain had sent her to the doctor. She—Theresa—had never planned to ask Elvis for a thing, she reiterated. Theresa had been content to raise her son by herself. But she had no family to take him in when she was gone, and she could not bear to think of her son alone and unloved.

“You don’t have to take him, Elvis, truly. But I beg you, please, please make sure he is placed with a nice family, that he is loved and taken care of. I cannot leave him all alone.”

His lawyers weren’t convinced, however, and didn’t want him to even entertain the thought. It could open you up for all sorts of future problems, Elvis.

But that didn’t stop him from finding out for himself because, as all of them knew, nobody tells Elvis Presley what he can and can’t do. He tracked her down, in Denver of all places, and took you and Vernon with him to the hospital to see Theresa. You didn’t know how you would feel seeing this girl Elvis had been with in a moment of weakness. Would you want to slap her face? Would you want to cry and scream? Would you want to tear her apart?

Instead, it had shocked you into silence, seeing someone that resembled you so closely withering away from disease, as if it were some sort of eerie harbinger. It made your skin prickle. But then compassion filled you, more so than you ever expected. The poor woman was on death’s door, but you’ll never forget the relief in her eyes when you all walked through the door. That look was something that couldn’t be faked. Nor was the toddler playing with the nurse in the corner, the little boy who Vernon looked at like he’d seen a ghost.

The boy was the spitting image of his father.

But that didn’t stop Theresa from encouraging a paternity test. She was well aware of what a mess this could be for Elvis, and she didn’t want there to be a shadow of a doubt for anyone involved. She wanted him to be sure.

“I don’t want to ruin your life,” she’d croaked, her emaciated frame limp and barely able to produce the tears she was trying to hold back. “I never want him to be a burden.”

The tiny blonde child chose that pivotal moment to break away from the nurse, waddling over and grabbing Elvis’ flared pant leg with chubby little fists, commanding Elvis’ attention downward. His chin tucked, gaze following the movement at his feet, and you watched him wrestle with what to do, what the protocol in this sort of situation was. It was intense, this first moment between them, and the boy’s all-too-familiar crooked smile and slow blinking blue eyes made your heart clench.

You watched Elvis come to an unspoken decision, and he lifted the boy easily and almost too naturally tucked the boy into his hip. The room collectively held its breath, watching the scene unfold. You’d never seen a child snuggle up to an unfamiliar person like that before, the way he buried his head into Elvis’ shoulder as if drawn in, inexplicably trusting. Granted, Elvis had that preternatural way about him, his essence bringing people to him constantly. But this was different.

Heart fluttering into a gallop, you watched Elvis take this moment in before nodding solemnly, sucking in his lip. With the child tucked into his side, it was obvious to you that he was holding back his pressing emotions to stay in control. Nevertheless, he was unwavering when he told Theresa, “Even if he’s not mine, I’ll make sure he finds a good home. I promise you that.”

She’d closed her eyes then, and when they opened, you saw a gratefulness and relief so strong it nearly bowed you over.

Elvis had done the blood test right then at the hospital. Everyone was quiet on the plane ride home. Elvis, pensive and withdrawn, clutched at your hand so tightly it tingled from the loss of circulation. And when the call came the next day that Theresa was gone, your heart broke for her. Sheer willpower had kept her alive long enough to make sure her son would be safe. A mother’s love.

You’d wept for her. You’d wept for you and for Elvis. You’d wept for that little boy.

Nicholas. Nicholas Aaron.

You didn’t tell Elvis that the moment you saw the 16-month-old toddle towards you that you knew. That you loved him instantly, like something magical locked into place. It was too early, too soon. But you knew.

Elvis hadn’t wanted to talk about it much as you all waited for the results. He was antsy and on edge, everyone giving him a wide berth. His guilt was trying its best to distance him from you, that deep seeded, insecure vulnerability in him trying to simultaneously push you away while needing you close. It was evident in the way he clung to you in his sleep. But you did everything in your power to let him know you didn’t hate him for the indiscretion, that you still loved him unconditionally, no matter the paternity outcome.

Of course, your mind whirled in overdrive, circling the drain around your surprising emotions about Nicholas. You found yourself worrying your nails down to the quick about whether he was safe and who was caring for him since his mother died. Your heart felt like it was tearing in two whenever you thought about it. You knew you shouldn’t get too attached, but you couldn’t help it. It was primal and biological, this response.

So when the phone rang this morning and Jerry had so seriously handed it to Elvis, you knew what it was, your breath catching in your throat. This was the moment that would change everything. And you hoped it was for the better as you sat across from him, wringing your hands in your lap. Silence filled the room as Elvis listened to the voice on the other end, his face going Hollywood blank, giving you nothing to hold on to. Your heart threatened to explode right out of your chest and onto the table.

He thanked the voice on the other end and hung up the phone.

“E, what did they—” you started.

“I’m his father,” Elvis finally whispered in shock.

And now you are here, holding him to you, being his rock while in your own state of disbelief and wonder. A thousand emotions roll through you all at once: Hope. Joy. Sorrow for Theresa. Guilt for being happy in the face of Nicholas’ tragedy.

“Do you want this, to take him in, Elvis?” you ask, prompting him to look up at you once more. You pray you know the answer.

“Of course, I do. I’m his father. He’s my son,” he says, as if the unfamiliar words have finally landed and he believes them. Then his signature 1,000-megawatt crooked smile spreads across his face. “I have a son! We have a son!” he adds, proudly.  

Elvis jumps up, grabbing you by the waist, spinning you around until the room tilts on its axis. You laugh breathlessly, arms locked around his neck, wondering how in the world you’ve managed to get here after all this time, in the most unlikely of ways.

A son.

When he sets you down, he looks at you, grinning from ear to ear with an unbridled passion like you’ve never seen from him before. It’s not sexual, and it’s different from the passion he has for his music. It’s the love of a new father, you realize, something you never thought you’d get to see. It makes your heart swell uncontrollably.

“Are you absolutely positive this is what you want, lil’ mama?” His questioning eyes search yours as he cups your face, his fingers catching in the blue scarf in your hair. The pet name suddenly takes on a whole new meaning, releasing butterflies in your stomach.

Excitement has your heart racing and your breath short, but you beam, winking, “Oh, I’m one thousand percent positive, Daddy.”

Elvis kisses you deeply, as though he’s merging with you, engulfing you. It takes your breath away completely.

“We have a son,” he whispers, smiling against your mouth. “Let’s go get our son.” There’s something in the way he includes you in this, a pointed clarity that you are not an outsider because you aren’t Nicholas’ biological mother. No, he’s telling you in no uncertain terms—this is your boy as much as he is mine.

And after so many years thinking it could never be, it finally, truly hits you, without a doubt:

I’m going to be a mother.

*

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[warsamongthestars]

BAD BATCH (CHARACTERS) + ECHO HEADCANONS-- WITH STORIED BITS!

Because I was inspired by tags, why not a round of BB HCs?

Not TBB, just BBs. The characters, and I'm coming out the Clone Wars primarily, with only bits taken from TBB. ( Like a good fanfic, Let's steal back the small good things )

I know, I analyze--so let's see how far I can stretch it, yeah?

Today we are HCing...

99 AND THE 99 PROJECT

THE BAD BATCH'S MUTATIONS (Thus their abilities)

DOMINO SQUAD

( I would label it as Mature (Because I have a general idea of labelling), but Tumblr decided to be fucking hilarious about it--so I'm going ask you to be Mature. There's nothing explicit here, its about as snarky as a Discworld novel. So Guess that means its Teens and Up, PG-13, or whatever. )

99 INSPIRED THE 99's PROJECT

"Old man 99!? THE JANITOR FROM KAMINO!?"

Whether 99 was an alphagen or a first-gen, the idea here is based on small TCWs comments. Stuff about "Growth" tubes.

Its probably in the capitalist-eugenics aliens' (kaminonians) interest to skip the uncomfortable bits in natural human growth. After all the uncomfortable bits of human growth aren't Profitable.

So, have an age to load a clone into a growth tube, and just, rapidly grow them until they're the stage you want (to be profitable). This means skipping teenage years. It means skipping the small childhood years.

So, given that 99 is mature and capable, he was likely loaded into a growth tube about where his "teen years" would start... and it went horribly wrong. Aging him by decades instead of a few years.

And the 99 project, would be Nala Se's little project, to find out why it went so wrong--and then to fix it for future clones. Because after all, you can't have an army of old men.

And judging by the fact that 99 is the only Old Man Clone we've seen in TCWs, I imagine the project worked as intended--and like any greedy eugenic science-capitalist, Nala Se decided:

"Y'know, I could do something more with this. I could find the most common 'bugs' in our clone genome, and I could stretch them, and modify them, and make benefits out of these flaws."

And the 99s were created

ADDENDUM - on Growth Tubes

Growth Tubes would only be successful if the human brain was stimulated rapidly as the body grew, or you risk compromising the human brain. Its a very delicate organ and rapid growth would be very bad. So flash-training, basically rapidly dumping organized information and sensory input, would occur over the course of the rapid-growth. This is to ensure you have a nice healthy human brain afterwards. There are clones who did end up with a "leaky growth tube" (rumors about Hardcase), where the only issue hat ended up happening is a deficit in attention spans and impulsiveness.

What's significant about First-Gen clones, is that they mostly went the old fashioned way of growing--as in slow (but accelerated) growing. After First-Gen, Kaminonians decided: "No, this is not fast enough... and its too stressful, Teenage clones complaining about growing pains and having attitudes--its just too much. What do they think this is, a Human Domicile?"

Fast-Tracked clones are those who ended up in a growth tube the majority of their time, and even then, skipped steps once they were out. Domino Squad, being fast-tracked, maintained the "attitude" flaws characteristic of those who didn't spend a whole lotta time working with brothers out of the tube.

This is also why all "standard" clones look older than their early twenties. Many were grown out, biologically hitting the fast-forward on growing years to be fully grown. Chronologically, they are official "10". They only have 10 years of life, by the start of the war. Accelerated Aging measurement? 20. Because they are made to age twice as fast a normal humans. Biologically? Mid-20 to early 30s. It helps the resemblance to their prime, and avoids any possibilities of "late growth spurts". Luckily, clones are made to stay in their prime far longer than a normal human.

2. THE MUTATIONS OF THE BAD BATCH "They're non-standard but with abilities not seen in even normal humans."

The problem with finding a 'flaw' in a genome is that you have to ask...

a). Who is saying there is a Flaw? Are they someone you want saying that there is a flaw?

b). Why is it a flaw? ... But is it really?

c). what are they going to do to "remedy" the "flaw"? Is it an actual remedy, or are they just saying it is.

And being capitalist-eugenic scientists, who study the science of profiting from genes and geneing from profits, certain "flaws" are going to be the non-profitable kind.

They probably think its a terrible terrible sin, that the human genome is not naturally made to make capital.

But through this list of Flaws, Nala Se decided--"we can gene splice can't we? Yes, why shouldn't I gene splice. I can make much better clones through splicing."

After all, if you're going to make money from genes, in order to do more geneing, adding more Genes should surely add more Money.

FOR WRECKER...

(Shift from "canon"--for thematic reasons, this Wrecker is 9901)

Kaminonians are baffled by how strong and yet delicate humans are. They can lift 300 pounds, and yet can still get crushed to death by 300 pounds.

Its ridiculous, really.

So Nala Se took notes and samples from the beauty and gracefulness that is the Rancor.

And for her designated 9901, gave him near instantaneously recovering muscle, that could lift 3x the normal 300 pounds of health humans, and indestructible bones.

Why if an explosion were to hit 9901's face head on fro the left side--it would not, in fact, pulverize his skull or any the soft tissues the skull protects. The eye would absolutely be kriffed though.

Sure, the increased metabolism might be a bit too grand for the rations...

But the Kaminonians were assured--they are specially crafted rations, and the clone will just have to adapt. Humans can just, not be hungry after all, why it takes a month for an average human to starve! If the clone complains, well he is getting fed so he wont' starve. It's a bargain, after all. He's lucky the Kaminonians are even bothering.

FOR HUNTER...

( Shift from "canon"--for thematic reasons, Hunter is now 9903 )

The various pores of the human face always seemed to... leak to the Kaminoinans. Why do humans have to do so much leaking? Ought to make all those "face pores" that do their "poring", do actual useful work for once.

So for 9903, he got an ampullae. Plenty of the predators on the planet of Kamino had ampullae, and they seem to get along just fine.

Because of the odd small organ network that encompassed his face and down his neck, connecting various natural human senses such as scent, taste, sight, and hearing, 9903 proved to be passively sensitive towards electromagnetic fields. He would always know where North is on a planet. He would always know where he was at, and what was around him.

Why, the Kaminonians though, that would be PERFECT for droids! Droids have electric-magnetic fields!

... The unfortunate fact, that the Kamionians neglected to add, is that Everything produced an electromagnetic field, and super imposing upon natural humans senses of "being sensitive to particles" and "being naturally sensitive to atomic wavelengths"...

is that it would be a sensory nightmare. A cacophony of hell from the very world around him, to consume him utterly.

Well... The clone will just have to adapt, as the Kaminonains say. By the very coral reefs of Kamino, the clones are just not grateful for the work we do over their petty little lives.

FOR CROSSHAIR...

( For thematic purposes--we're keeping 9904 )

Humans have such tiny eyes, the Kaminonians think, how do they see so much if they're so tiny? and sensitive. By the whale song of the sea, Human eyes are just Too Sensitive.

So for 9904, they gave him super sight. But not just super sight, but super duper protected sight. They decided that the vestigial "third eyelid" had no business being vestigial anymore, the lazy little thing, and regave it life in 9904's eyes.

Why it could protect from Water, and Dust, and Bright Lights.

And they, the Kaminonians, were really reeving up now. Why just stop there? Give him reflectors. Let him see in the dark!

Why didn't we think to do this for all the clones?

Because sudden lights and sudden darkness, would mess up his eyes immediately. Because long term lights would cause a sensory overload. And long term darkness would cause (temporary) color blindness.

And no amount of protection stops a blaster to the face.

Well, thinks the Kaminonains, Its not as bad as the last ones.

FOR TECH...

( For thematic purposes... he is 9906. Yes, I like "Baby Tech", shush you. )

We know exactly what to do with this one, thinks the Kaminonians. Humans are just so... Dull. We load their brains nice and healthy, and they're still so dull.

We want at least one to have an intelligent conversation with.

I KNOW, LET'S MODEL THIS ONE AFTER US--THE KAMINONIANS! And we're geniuses you know, why shouldn't at least... one clone, be a genius like us.

For 9906, they attempted the daunting task of Modifying the Brain. Increasing memory retention and synapses flexibility. Awareness and understanding--a living computational organ.

And 9906 was Perfect.

... Save that he did not like Kaminonians, because healthy human brains, by any standard, tend to develop things like "Understanding" and "Feelings for and about other People", and tend to greatly dislike those who want to treat other people monstrously.

Why, 9906 even argued against the treatment of Clones. Clones are capable of thought and creation, they are a people and thus their own culture.

And the Kaminonians mourned. Clearly, all the work they put into this brain was for Nothing!

It only wants to learn about the galaxy and discover the beauties and wonders behind technology and space and peoples--why, it doesn't think of Profit or Genes at all!

It even argued that it wasn't a Product to be Sold, but a person to be talked to. The Kaminonians found this scoffful.

It would learn, the Kaminonians decided, oh it would learn.

ADDENDUM

What about 9902 and 9905? Well... Heheheh.

DOMINO SQUAD "A real domino effect, this one."

There are birth batches, and there are batch-squads. Birth-batches separate to all become batch-squads... but not all batch-squads are from the same birth-batch.

Such is the case of the fast-tracked "Domino Squad". Because they were fast-tracked, these clones spent an unpresidented time in the growth-tube. And worse, each one had a falling out with their original batch-squad.

The one that would be known as "Hevy" was overly confrontational, and prone to starting fights. He failed out of his original batch-squad for his attitude and physical violence.

He mellowed out, once he found that his aggression lead to serious consequence, but it didn't completely stop the fights or the lone wolfing. (Until after graduation).

The one that would be known as "Cutup" never took anything seriously, and his old trainers (and old squad) had enough. The trooper didn't even take regulations seriously, and was caught with contraband (Cutup couldn't believe that simple playing cards were "contraband", haven't they ever heard of a game before?)

The one that would be known as "Droidbait", tended to give up too easily, in a total reverse to "Hevy's" situation. Surrender is not acceptable, and he'll have to relearn the hard way.

The one that would be known as "Fives", ironically, did not have a poor record following him for anything he did. Half of his birth-batch-squad were found deceased after a training exercise. The survivors were sent elsewhere. For this, Fives was a quiet, serious but very anxious cadet and rookie until he hit arc-trooper. He kept even his name close. Just in case. Fives got to watch one of the survivors graduate with Bravo Squad. He never found out what happened to him after that.. but he doesn't assume its good.

Always have to adapt on the fly, because if you don't, the situation might just kill you. No matter how "Safe" everyone says it is. In fact, especially if its "Safe".

The one that would be known as "Echo" was the most devious.

By all accounts, Echo was a stand up trooper--he read the regulations and followed them to the letter. He took pleasure in buffing his armor and uniform. He could recite exact rules, was perfect in inspections. He knew exactly where everything is and how to act as expected. A true "By the Book" trooper. Why, what could ever be wrong with Echo?

Because if you look like you belong, and if you know the rules, you can do Anything. And Echo, he knew that people knew that the Way Things Act were often considered more important than What Things Actually Are, but you still have to Play Expectations if you want to get what you want.

And Echo, he tended to learn how play expectations. The fact is, while it was considered an accident and misunderstanding--Echo put himself in a position to get transferred away from his old birth-squad.

( He had nothing against his old birth-batch. They were fine lads. But Echo refused to be canon-fodder. If he was going to go out into the galaxy and make a difference, he was going to do it his way--if he was going to get blown up, it was because he damn well decided he was going to get blown up, not because a general told him to. )

Yes it would mean being held back. But such is the price of prep work (He certainly didn't feel like he was ready--and he wanted to test the waters a bit longer), and well, there had to be brothers on Kamino, who actually think about what they're being told--not just blinding follow without consideration.

And you can only work the rules to your liking, if you know what the rules are. Good thing Echo likes to read.

ADDENDUM

Reason Birth-batch and Batch-Squad are separate, is because the general idea is that they birth clones enmass, but since we only ever see cadets in squads, they aren't necessarily trained enmass.

There had to be a reason why Echo had the Balls to jump Rank and talk to a General, as a cadet, as request transfer.

None of the numbers of Domino Squad match up to indicate that they're apart of the "Birth-Batch". So this sugested to me that they might be from different batches--and thusly, are probably a "throw them together" squad.

[safelycapricious]

Looking for a little external motivation atm, so let me talk about some fics I'm working on and if one sounds good to me then let me know and hopefully I'll get off my ass. Just going to list some and give a random snippet I suppose.

Bucktommy Amnesia:

“Evan, baby, can you open your eyes for me?” someone asks at his side, and he realizes his hand is being held. The voice doesn’t register immediately, but he once didn’t recognize Maddie’s voice when he woke up, so that’s less alarming than it could be.

Bucktommy Old Guard:

The year is 1863 and it’s the first time Evan has ever felt like he has a real family, people who actually care about him and what he thinks. He’ll fight out the rest of the war at their side, but he’ll never be as good at it as they are.

BuddieTommy Buck self doubt:

He grabs his salad and slides back into his booth and puts the phone down again, so he can resist revisiting the texts from his boyfriends. How their latest response to him saying he was going to be coming home today were just the thumbs up emoji and an “Okay, let us know if that changes.” So different from the reply to his first text, before he’d been invited to stay, with heart reacts and “Can’t wait to see you! We miss you!”

Jason/Constantine Priest of Gotham:

“Why didn’t you bloody well tell me you’ve got a priest?” Constantine barks, several notches higher than he had been talking with B.

All three of them glance over in time to see B actually try to pinch the bridge of his nose through the cowl. It doesn’t work, of course, but says a lot about how he’s feeling. “He don’t have a priest, but if you think a man of the cloth would be helpful I can reach out to St. Michaels —”

“Not have a — he’s right there!” and the tan trench coat clad arm is pointing right at Jason.

Jason eats another chip.

“You’re a priest, little wing?” Dick asks around a barely suppressed laugh.

“Not in this universe,” is Jason’s response, “unless Halloween counts — but I was technically a nun for that.”

“I have questions,” Tim says, no longer solely focused on his screen.

Jason/Slade Flu:

Jason didn’t understand why someone would genetically engineer an illness to give to Slade that only gave him a minor flu. Until he had to be the one to take care of him.

He gets it now.

He’s going to kill that son of a bitch whoever it is whenever he finds them — regardless of who it is or where they are. He will kill them in front of Bruce and the whole world and not regret it at all.

Because Slade? Slade is the worst patient in the history of patients.

Jason/Natasha/Bucky in series (series):

“Hey, so that thigh move you do,” the Red Hood who is probably Jason Todd says to Natasha while the person who might be James Buchanan Barnes but is certainly the Winter Soldier is evaluated at the Avengers Tower.

Natasha turns to him, not bothering to smile. People bringing up the thigh move only goes one way, and when she has to pretend sometimes that it’s not deeply offensive she doesn’t have to pretend right now. “Yes?” she prompts.

“Could you teach it to me?” he finishes, grinning bright behind his domino mask which he’s refused to take off.