#illness from eating chicke

[vocaltv]

क्या आप जानते हैं चिकन खाने से मौत हो सकती हैं!

  दोस्तों चिकन खाना कुछ लोगो को बहुत पसंद होता हैं लोग बड़े शौक से मांस-मटन खाते हैं. इन दिनों एक पोस्ट बहुत चर्चा का विषय बना हुआ हैं जिसमें यह दावा किया जा रहा हैं की चिकेन खाने से मौत हो सकती हैं. एक बट आपको बताना चाहूंगी की चिकन खाने से सीधे मौत होना अत्यधिक असंभव है। चिकन एक प्रमुख प्रोटीन स्रोत है और यह लोगों के आहार में आमतौर पर शामिल होता है। चिकन के साथ सम्बंधित खतरात आमतौर पर अन्य कारकों…

[glassrowboat]

Morning After

Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^

Capitano.

-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.

-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.

-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.

-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.

-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.

-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”

-At least he's handsome under that helmet.

Childe.

-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.

-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.

-”Are you always such a drama queen?”

-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”

-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?

-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.

-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.

-”So where do you come from?”

-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”

Dottore.

-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?

-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)

-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..

-Maybe not this time.

-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.

-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.

- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.

-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.

-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.

Pantalone.

-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.

-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.

-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’

-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.

-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.

-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.

Pierro.

-He's confused.

-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.

-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.

-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.

-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.

-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).

-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.

-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.

Scaramouche.

-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.

-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.

-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.

-A human isn't a threat after all.

-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.

-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”

-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.

[nab1wuzhere]

Magnetic

“You wouldn’t look at me.”

“I saw plenty.”

“In my eyes.”

“…Does it matter?”

~

summary:

Bakugo Katsuki, No. 3 Hero in the charts, massive amounts of fan girls, always invited to galas, events, and even award shows along side his peers, but he has never once gotten a dating scandal in his whole career. Has never even looked in a woman’s direction. So you can be certain he won’t change his actions when artist Y/N is invited to sing at a private Christmas Gala hosted for hero’s to celebrate the season and a year well done of duties…right?

Singer, artist, model Y/N, has it all. Looks, wealth, awards, friends, family, and boyfriends.. her music revolves around her relationships and past relationships along with her mental health that she speaks about through her music. She gets asked to gigs almost every day but few are lucky to book her, when her team gets a request for the Christmas Hero Gala which is highly exclusive, she immediately agrees to entertaining the hero’s, excited for the night she doesn’t realize she caught a certain man’s attention in the back of the crowd..

• slow burn - secret pining - romance - bold Y/N, shy Katsuki - vice versa - celebrity!y/n x aged up!katsuki

• following contains, eventual smut, mentions of suicide, alcohol, mental illness, heavy party scenes and probably more !

• 18+ only!! this is your warning

• the rest of the celebrities mentioned in this series i do not take credit for, and the songs mentioned all writing ownership belongs to them! i do not take credit except for this fan fiction!

!! just a friendly reminder this is all fake, simply my imagination placed into writing !!

intro

chapter one

furious knocking is heard on bakugo katsuki’s hotel door, with shouts of “katsuki!! katsuki!!” being heard on the other side of the door.

katsuki groaned furiously as he got up and headed for the door, opening it loudly

“what the hell?!”

katsuki opened it to see his best friend, eijiro kirishima standing before him with a star eyed look on him. katsuki sighed and opened the door wider for his red headed friend to walk in.

“this better be good shitty hair, i was about to eat my fuckin’ breakfast.” katsuki spoke with a grumble

“katsuki! you’ll never believe it, guess who’s the performer for the gala?!” eijiro said practically shouting the walls away, his hands in tight fists, barely holding himself together.

a massive sigh was heard from katsuki, “will you PLEASE, for the love of god stop the fuckin’ shoutin’?!” he practically raised his hands in the air with annoyance

eijiro nodded happily, no sign of embarrassment or fear covered his body, his hands just moved in a “guess” motion

katsuki gave him a blank stare before running a hand through his spiky blonde hair. “who is preform—” before he could finish his sentence eijiro already announced the performer,

“Y/N! THE Y/N! like global sensation Y/N?! SHE of all people will be preforming FOR US katsuki!!! can you believe it?! oh my god!!”

katsuki gave him a look of “who the fuck are you talking about” before realization dawned on him, on his face, “oh, the chick who sings ‘NDA’?”

eijiro nodded excitedly, “and therefore i am, your power, when the party’s over-”

“oh yeah, i like when the party’s over”

“male fantasy, i love you- OH my gosh what if she sings i love you? oh ill sob. oh not to mention, illicit affairs, my tears ricochet—”

“eijiro.” katsuki spoke in a harsh tone “we get it, she sings a lot of songs you know.”

eijiro walked towards him and sat down, “see that’s just the thing katsuki, she doesn’t just sing. she’s- hah! she’s an idol, she- she literally defines music, she’s a poet and composer and creates masterpieces using something that comes naturally to her- she- she creates art out of instruments and makes millions out of it-” eijiro reaches for the tv remote. “i mean look she even-”

“oh i’d rather you not go down this rabbit hole of obsession”

“yeah well i’m going to so shut up and eat your pancakes”

katsuki stared down at his plate of buttermilk pancakes and looked offended as eijiro flipped to ‘youtube’ on the hotels tv, seconds later there’s a video playing of Y/N preforming at coachella a year ago, singing her song, ‘idontwannabeyouanymore’ her voice soft and smooth as she sang the words with ease.

“i mean you see how natural it is for her? there are so and i mean so so many singers out there but jesus.. there’s only one of her.” he pointed to the screen and katsuki’s eyes followed to it, the camera panning on her face, her eyes shut, lashes brushing her under eye, her lips close to the microphone, there had to be a fan right above her, her hair flowing around, but yet somehow it didn’t look messy.. like it did but it was a good messy, her eyes opened and a glint of happiness shined in them, her lips curved up into a smile as she harmonized the end, and the whole crowd screamed and emerged into clapping, she looked down at her feet, the air blowing her hair, she looked up and her eyes shined from the blue spotlight creating a glow over her. she mouthed “thank you” before shouting, “THANK YOU COACHELLA!!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH” and the video ended.

“i mean come on!! she’s a fucking legend and in her fucking prime right now, and to even think she’s gonna perform for US?! oh god man i could pass away” ejiro says as he fake swoons and falls onto the hotel couch, his hand on his forehead.

katsuki scoffs as he takes a bite of his pancakes, “yeah, i mean she is good, she’s got a voice that’s for sure-”

ejiro interrupts katsuki immediately, “it’s not just the voice man!! it’s her, she’s from a whole other world! and she’s like the nicest person you’ll ever meet-”

“and have you? have you met her?” katsuki gives him a sarcastic look, ejiro presses his lips met with silence, katsuki sighs as sets his fork down and crosses his arms, “don’t believe everything you see on the internet ejiro.” he said with a serious tone, “not everyone is who they seem to be, i can sniff out who’s a fucking fake from a mile away, i would know” he gives an annoyed look.

ejiro sighs as he gets up and pops a blueberry in his mouth that had been sitting on katsuki’s breakfast plate, “yeah well we will have to wait to meet her so you can “sniff her out” yourself..” ejiro scoffs, “trust me katsuki, she’s the real deal.” he ended with pointing at the tv who had Y/N smiling out into the crowd at coachella, her eyes like glitter.

ejiro said his goodbyes and walked out leaving katsuki by himself and just him staring at the tv screen, his arms still crossed, he mentally slapped himself before pressing the video that would come up next, another performance at coachella from the same year, her hit song, “when the party’s over”. now this one katsuki was familiar with, it was one he found himself listening to a lot in his car, the lyrics were raw he would give her that, and her voice- god if katsuki knew it was something sent out of a dream to become katsuki’s worst nightmare he would have never clicked play.

[moon-ttokki-x]

hihi can i request 66 w/ Jisung? Kind like crack were you are both dead sick or smth? anyway have a great day/sleep (๑>◡<๑) ur write is to die for btw

— anon 🐣📎

hihi yes you can~ sorry this took a while to post lol, lots of wips. aww thank you, giggling n kicking my feet rn <3 here you gooooo my little chick paperclip anon lol

hot soup - sick bf!han jisung x sick!reader

pairing: sick bf!han jisung x sick!reader

summary: you're suffering with jisung through a cold (that he gave to you)

genre: fluffy to the max, idol! au, this is honestly just crack, sick lil jisungie and reader

a/n: han would be the type of make funny noises when his nose is bunged up don't even try to change my mind

"You do it."

"No, you."

"I did it last time."

Jisung groans and heaves himself upright, tissues falling off the sofa like a mini avalanche. He sluggishly gets up and drags himself to the coffee table for the remote control, pressing the select button to play the next episode of the kdrama you're both watching.

He sniffs and flops back down on the couch next to you, groaning as the intro begins to play for the umpteenth time. "Y/n?"

His nose is bunged up so it sounds funny when he talks, and your voice is no better as you respond. "Mmm.."

"I'm hungry."

You whine and roll over, burying your face in the blanket. Jisung adjusts himself so you're lying on his chest, cuddled in each others' arms. Blankets swamp both of your bodies, so that if anyone were to look at both of you, they would see just a large lump of fabric. A very sniffly, sick, snotty lump of fabric at that.

You groan and let out an ungraceful sneeze, almost projecting yourself off the sofa. Jisung closes his eyes, mildly put out.

"I don't wanna get up," you sigh, burying your face back in his chest. He smells warm, the skin radiating feverish heat through the material of his hoodie, and the faint, spiced smell of vapour rub hangs distinctly in the air. Not that it seems to be helping. "But I'm hungry as well. What should we make?"

Jisung doesn't even have to open his mouth before you both agree on soup. There's a large pot in the fridge, courtesy of a disgusted Minho, who packed a bag and refused to return to the dorm until both of you were better.

The pot is about half full- you lift it with almost shaky arms and place it on the stove, switching on the heat. Jisung stands beside you as you begin to stir, watching how the chicken shreds and green onions spin in a mesmerising circle. Little oil bubbles rest on the top of the liquid, simmering deliciously as the soup heats up, and by the time it's ready, both of you are salivating.

You ladle half of the pot into each bowl and hand one to Jisung, who reaches into a drawer for a pair of chopsticks. You pause and watch as he sleepily dips them into the soup, clearly too dazed and ill-ridden to understand his amusing actions.

"Sungie," you croak, trying not to laugh. "It's soup."

"Mhm.."

"No," you correct him, "You can't eat soup with chopsticks..."

He blinks, once. Then twice. And then, very slowly, he adjusts his grip on the chopsticks and continue dipping them into the soup, bringing them to his mouth to lick off what little broth remains on the utensils.

You sigh and bring a spoonful of the hot, nourishing liquid to your mouth and groan as its warmth saturates the inside of your mouth, instantly comforting. You'll have to remember to thank Minho later, and maybe ask for the soup recipe too, so you can make it when you're not feeling so sick in the future.

You climb with some difficulty onto the counter and continue ladling the soup into your mouth while Jisung stands, sock-footed on the tiles, sluggishly licking broth off his chopsticks. You tilt your head at him.

"I still don't understand why you're doing that," you say quietly, letting the steam from your bowl soothe the congestion in your sinuses.

"Because," Jisung croaks. "My throat hurts and swallowing feels icky to me."

"That soup will be ice cold by the time you finally get to the bottom of it. That is, if you even make it that far. Go to sleep."

He whines and sets the bowl down, taking a plate from the dishrack to cover it. "You're telling me to sleep as if you don't look like a walking zombie yourself..."

You huff and kick him lightly in the stomach, swinging your legs off the counter. "I wouldn't be a walking zombie if you didn't get me sick in the first place, Sung."

"It wasn't my fault-"

"Yes it was," you croak, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You kept me here all night cuddling without telling me you were sick."

He pouts. "But I wanted to be with you."

"So you purposely got me sick, is what you're saying."

Jisung looks away, a tired smirk making its way onto his features. "I just wanted to spend some time with my beautiful walking zombie baby. Can you blame me?"

You throw your spoon at him. "Han Jisung."

He ducks just in time, the spoon clattering to the floor. "Okay, okay, relax. I didn't know apocalyptic monsters were so temperamental..."

"Shut up and finish your soup."

"Okay, sorry."

a/n: i want soup so bad rn

[thoughtportal]

Many penguin species huddle together in massive colonies, but pairs of yellow-eyed penguins go out of their way to be alone, nesting deep in New Zealand’s scrublands and forests out of sight of other penguins. When pairs reunite at the nest after one has been away fishing, they greet each other with a piercing cry that Thor Elley, an endangered avian species researcher at the University of Otago with Māori roots, likens to “a whistling tea kettle rolling down a hill.” The species’ Māori name, hoiho, roughly translates to “noise shouter.” 

Screaming and antisocial behavior may not seem like beloved traits, but these penguins are revered in Māori culture as taonga, or treasure, even gracing the country’s $5 bill. They are “protected by sacred origins,” Elley says.

But one of New Zealand’s favorite endemic birds is also one of its rarest. The International Union for Conservation of Nature estimates that only between 2,600 and 3,000 hoiho exist. About a third live on New Zealand’s South Island and nearby Stewart Island. The rest inhabit sub-Antarctic islands some 300 miles to the south. In the past 15 years, the northern population has plummeted by roughly 75 percent, and researchers expect that group could disappear within the next two decades if the trend continues. 

The decline stems from a litany of factors. Red cod, once a pillar of the hoiho diet, has become scarce, and blue cod, although larger, are harder to catch, eat and feed to their chicks than other staple fish. Penguins also drown each year in commercial gillnets. And a pair of diseases, avian diphtheria and, since 2019, a mysterious and fatal respiratory illness, also infect virtually every chick. Janelle Wierenga, a veterinary scientist at the University of Otago and Massey University, says potential vaccines and drugs are likely years away. 

To keep the species afloat, wildlife hospitals and conservation groups have taken the radical step of removing every single hoiho chick on the South Island from its nest and placing it in human care for its first week or so of life. Chicks are treated with antibiotics to heal the mouth sores caused by avian diphtheria. They’re also fed fish smoothies to boost their strength. It’s unclear how, but this extra care prevents chicks from developing the respiratory disease. “I’ve got the feeling that the diseases are a secondary problem, and the primary problem is the penguins don’t get the sustenance they need,” says Thomas Mattern, an ecologist at the University of Otago. 

In 2023, the Dunedin Wildlife Hospital hand-reared 214 hoiho chicks. Without human intervention, 50 to 70 percent of those chicks would have died, Lisa Argilla, the hospital’s senior wildlife veterinarian and director, estimates. But these herculean efforts can only offer a short-term reprieve. “We are trying to buy this population as much time as we can,” she says. “You feel like you’re fighting a losing battle, but we couldn’t live with ourselves if we didn’t fight for these penguins.”

[melancholicstation]

YOU’RE SO HANDSOME WHEN I'M ALL OVER YOUR MOUTH! - a JFK and RFK love triangle one-shot.

authors note: this is part one! also can you tell i watched the jfk movie starring patrick demspy as young jfk... cause, mama i am howling at the moon for that man i hate to say it y'know i do! another thing, this is not edited because i actually cannot right now, it will be soon enough! iloveuallx summary: an afternoon in dallas leaves an indelible mark on your relationship with your husband, bobby kennedy, and his brother jack kennedy... you'd be surprised how much can be identified based on one moment of pure, animalistic reflex.

tags: @obsessedwithjohnjr @candyneckl6ce @rocker-chick-7 @ultr4v1ol3nt @violetharmonsfavgf @strip-weather-forecast @darcyspirits @fortheloveofjos @h-l-v-kennedy-blog @h-l-vlovesvintage @bluelancergirl @snowsgames @salvatoresablondie @dulcegal @kennedyism @bloxholden35 @kimcrystal123@absurdlyvintage @jackiesgirl @chemicalw0rld @remotewatch @starsprangledgirl @strryhaze @beloved-angel

warnings: alternative universe take on the assassination of JFK, mild gore, blood, and violence.

words: 1070

Now you weren't proud to admit this, but you hadn't been entirely truthful to Bobby when it came to just how familiar you were with his older, illness-prone, shit-eating-grin wearing brother Jack.

Well you see, you'd met Jack a long time before you'd met your beloved Bob. A quite long time indeed.

*flashback to Peter Bent Brigham Hospital, Boston 1931*

The Jack you'd met—well his name wasn't even Jack when you'd met him, for some strange reason he adopted an alias named "Dan" whenever you two would converse. You could tell it was a fake, obviously, but you entertained it and by extension him, blinded by the vision of him in a white wife-beater and a fawn penny loafer.

If you were asked, you'd put those psychology books you'd been left to read in 29' to good use and say that he was attempting to distance himself from who he thought people expected a promising son of Joesph Kennedy to be from the disease ridden boy he came to quickly resemble through his child and teenhood.

You'd forever hold dear to your heart the first time you'd laid your sore eyes upon his almost tragic kind of grace and beauty. Jack was never a stellar patient—not like you were, forever you were a quite careful daughter that never did seem to shake that pesky cold that eventually turned into a much graver prognosis for you, par for the course you'd met Jack while he was trying enter back into the hospital after hours—no doubt coming home from God knows what, doing God knows who.

And in doing so, he'd obviosuly over indulged himself and gone far beyond his doctors orders in terms of physical movement. Jack would go on to tell you that he thought his doctor would soon try to put him in a contraption not disimilar to a straight jacket just for him to get some rest.

In a haze of overexertion and clear fatigue Jack accidently mistook your room for his, and no less but climbed into your bed—with you sleeping in it, none the wiser, and the mistake wasn't noticed by you, himself, or his nurses until the morning.

Safe to say you two, unknowingly got decently comfortable with eachother after that. Nothing deviant, purely platonic but a sense of camraderie and friendship had been born that night out of plain happenstance.

By some miracle you'd condition had steadily improved and no sooner than five months are meeting Jack, you were saying goodbye to him all the same. You didn't want him to feel a sense of betrayal due to your leaving so you vowed to eachother to keep in touch through letters—with you promising to entertain him through ink and paper when visitation hours were up for the night.

*end of flashback*

You two would keep that promise to keep in touch until certain life-shaped obstacles got in the way, chief among them being a certain sandy-blonde named Bob Kennedy.

Though you missed Jack and longed to rekindle the camraderie you once shared, you didn't quite expect it to come about like how it did....

After a few months of courtship between you and Bobby, in which you swore you'd never seen a man so dedicated to loving another person in your whole life: and to be on the recieving end of that affection felt euphoric. So, naturally, a spring wedding was to be set, but not before meeting the family.

So in 1949 that's exactly what you did, timidly clutching Bob's hand while trying to make pleasant conversation with the younger of his siblings—of which there were many. One caught your eye. A certain Jack Kennedy, who looked remarkably similar to the addled boy you'd met back in BLANK.

Side stepping what couldve been an awkard moment you both handled it with poise, pretending as if you two had just met for the first time. You didn't mention it to Bobby, i mean really what was there to mention? a six month friendship whom bonded over the lonliness of having a chronic illness? It wouldn't do any modicum of good for anybody. And certaintly not Bobby.

Though you hadn't met his brothers until that day, before Bobby would talk of them as Greek Gods—untouchable beings that he could only hope to be half as divine as. You didn't understand Bobby's habit of denegrating himself to pump up his brothers. To you he was everything he thought his brothers to be. Smart, handsome, charming, and above all indeliably loyal. To a fault sometimes.

No matter how many times you assured him that it was him you wanted, not anyone else. Bobby wasn't a particulary jealous person, pathologically insecure would be a more suitable assessment.

But it was that near medievil dedication to his brother that got you here: getting ready for a texan motocade with the president: who was none other than Bob's brother and your old friend from the infirmary, Jack Kennedy.

You've chosen as simple navy two piece in wool, you'd gotten so cold in your first trimester and hadn't been able to shake it off in the second. You and Bobby were delighted to be granted the utter gift of being parents, having had troubles concieving for the first couple of years into your marriage.

After the reception your hounded by assistants and courtiers into the car, only having time to exchange sincere pleastries with the president and his wife. Despite the years long hiatus in your friendship, you and Jack had mostly picked back up where you left off back in the thirties.

Though the dynamic was different now that you were both married, and with children on the way, it felt good to have a Kennedy-born ally that wasn't your husband.

Before you can say much else, the car's fully on the move, and everyone has their hands up and waving, expressing diplomatic pleastries. The car moves onto Elm Street, and as if out of nowhere your eye focuses in on the most peculiar almost minscule object flying from a nearbywindow, and heading straight for the seat holding the your old friend, and the president of the united states.

And out of a kind of pure, subhuman instinct, in disalignment with any kind of common sense you believed you had ever possessed in all your life, you move to shield his body with yours and—*BANG*

end of part one.

[gamblersdoll]

yuji thought it was a good idea to invite megumi, gojo and choso to his apartment to introduce them to his new cute girlfriend.

it's a shame that after eating he receives a message from nanami saying that he needs his help with something.

but it's okay! yuji thinks this is a good opportunity for them to get to know her better! surely they would find a way to have a good time…but yuji didn't know that their fun would be in his bedroom.

he also didn't know that nanami doesn't really need his help. it's just that gojo was texting him during dinner to make yuji leave so they can spend time with his cute girl.

with the promise of sending a video of the meeting to nanami.

disclaimer: i do not do illegal ships. (gojo x yuuji for example.)

things were going good, really good.

yuuji finally landing himself a smoking hot chick, one that is everything he wants and needs. shit, probably fantasized about.

and what’s even better? he could introduce you to his friend, his old teacher, his big brother too! all in the same night, even better!

his thoughts are snapped back to reality, receiving a message from his old mentor, nanami. something about him needing help from yuuji.

“hey uh– ill be back! i promise!” he rushes, landing a kiss on your forehead and rushing out the door to be of use to kento.

he only hopes and prays that things go well without him there, knowing his older brother was skeptical of him out in the dating world.

he really hopes you have fun.

and fun did you have, wandering hands of different shapes and sizes invading your body.

“you know, yuuji really did luck up.” gojo says, keeping your arms held tight and him just kissing behind your neck. there was no doubt that, he was rock solid.

but then your attention is drawn to your lips being kissed by megumi, his hands on your hips from the side and only groaning. he palms his hardened cock, bumping it into your thigh more than once.

and oh, choso. he feels somewhat bad about touching his brothers girl, but damn was he a little too lucky. he spent most of his time trying not slip his dick into you, because a, you couldnt fit all of him in one sitting no doubt. and b, it was too soon, he wanted it just right.

this was too much, his old teacher, his brother, and his friend’s senses were all over you, only hoping that yuuji would walk in and they would all take his time with you.

but gojo couldnt forget the end of his deal. sending the best sensual touching (since kento was more attracted to sensual touches in foreplay) and said yuuji could come back. cleaning up after everyone, of course.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

⚡ - Charging Towards a More Electrifying Future

1. The Kissimmee River has been brought back to life—and wildlife is thriving

The Kissimmee River in Florida was straightened in the 1960s, causing a sharp decline in wildlife and ecological problems. But in the 1990s, a $1 billion restoration project was initiated to restore the river's natural state.

Today, nearly half of the river has been restored, wetlands have been reestablished and rehydrated, and wildlife has returned, including rare and threatened species. Already the biological impact of the project has become clear. As the wetlands have come back, so have the birds.

2. Plastic wrap made from seaweed withstands heat and is compostable

A cling film made from an invasive seaweed can withstand high temperatures yet is still easily compostable. The material could eventually become a sustainable choice for food packaging.

Scientists started with a brown seaweed called sargassum. Sargassum contains long, chain-like molecules similar to those that make up conventional plastic, which made it a good raw material. The researchers mixed it with some acids and salts to get a solution full of these molecules, then blended in chemicals that thickened it and made it more flexible and pliable.

3. An Eagle Who Adopted a Rock Becomes a Real Dad to Orphaned Eaglet

Murphy, a bald eagle that had been showing fatherly instincts, has been sharing an enclosure with an eaglet that survived a fall from a tree during a storm in Ste. Genevieve. Murphy, his rock gone by then, took his role as foster parent seriously. He soon began responding to the chick’s peeps, and protecting it.

And when, as a test, the keepers placed two plates of food in front of the birds — one containing food cut into pieces that the chick could eat by itself, and another with a whole fish that only Murphy could handle — the older bird tore up the fish and fed it to the eaglet.

4. World's largest battery maker announces major breakthrough in energy density

In one of the most significant battery breakthroughs in recent years, the world’s largest battery manufacturer CATL has announced a new “condensed” battery with 500 Wh/kg which it says will go into mass production this year.

“The launch of condensed batteries will usher in an era of universal electrification of sea, land and air transportation, open up more possibilities of the development of the industry, and promote the achieving of the global carbon neutrality goals at an earlier date,” the company said in a presentation at Auto Shanghai on Thursday.

This could be huge. Electric jets and cargo ships become very possible at this point.

5. Cat with '100% fatal' feline coronavirus saved by human Covid-19 medicine

A beloved household cat has made an “astonishing” recovery from a usually fatal illness, thanks to a drug made to treat Covid-19 in humans – and a quick-thinking vet.

Anya​, the 7-year-old birman cat, was suffering from feline infectious peritonitis (FIP), a “100% fatal” viral infection caused by feline coronavirus. That was, until Auckland vet Dr Habin Choi​ intervened, giving Anya an antiviral used to treat Covid-19 called molnupiravir.

6. Kelp forests capture nearly 5 million tonnes of CO2 annually

Kelp forests provide an estimated value of $500 billion to the world and capture 4.5 million tonnes of carbon dioxide from seawater each year. Most of kelp’s economic benefits come from creating habitat for fish and by sequestering nitrogen and phosphorus.

7. Medical Marijuana Improved Parkinson’s Disease Symptoms in 87% of Patients

Medical cannabis (MC) has recently garnered interest as a potential treatment for neurologic diseases, including Parkinson's disease (PD). 87% of patients were noted to exhibit an improvement in any PD symptom after starting medical cannabis. Symptoms with the highest incidence of improvement included cramping/dystonia, pain, spasticity, lack of appetite, dyskinesia, and tremor.

----

That's it for this week :)

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Also don’t forget to reblog

[angels-read-fanfiction-too]

Short and kinda dookie Jerry fic but it's cute sooo pthhh

Warnings: swearing and errm... Josh doing a dookie

also this was based off my insert so sorry if it's not like you all too much :[ (now proof read, sorry to the people who read it with the spelling errors, i wrote it at 5am lol)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Psst! Psst!" You very poorly whispered, tapping at Bill's shoulder who was just getting more and more pissed off. Just as the cherry on top, you were wayyy too close for comfort and those creepy eyes were staring right at him... It freaked him out. Why did Jerry even like this annoying bitch? "What? What?!" Bill yelled while whispering, putting a strain on his voice. You shrunk down a little and moved away in surprise at his sudden tone, expression blank and wide eyed. "Uh... nothing." You mumbled, looking back to your work and tapping on the table with your neon yellow spongebob pen with an obnoxiously big rubber figure of the character on top. He was shocked it was even allowed to be used to write an essay on the second world war. "Oh fuck off! the hell do you mean 'nothing'? you always want shit from me." Bill complained, basically seething in anger over something so small. You cartoonishly sighed and looked over to Bill with a slight pout "Is Jerry in today?" Bill thought he would start screaming in the middle of history. "I don't know and i don't care about a bitchy whore like you and her pathetic boyfriend." You looked around awkwardly before mumbling "jeez, man, i was just wondering." As soon as the class ended, Bill walked as fast away from you as possible and left you to find Jerry on your own.

While walking through the halls, you spot Pete! You rushed up to him, the books in your bag loudly bouncing as you ran. "Sup sup!" You greeted. "Sup." Pete parroted, closing his locker with some kind of horror comic in his hands. "What dat?" You asked, not fully out of my 'derp' phase, looking down to the gore fest of a comic Pete held. "Uh, your sister gave it to me, said she liked it." He said, an oddly hesitant feeling to his words. Hey, you remembered that! "Oh, yeah, she really likes that one. She let me read it but it's a bit too intense for me, made me kinda ill." Pete scoffed in a confidence he didn't deserve "Yeah, well i'm tougher than that. I won't let some geeky bitch try and out gross me." He paused for a couple seconds before adding on "But uh... don't tell her but this is pretty rough. I didn't know chicks were really into this stuff." Shrugging it off, you just explained "She freaky like that. Anyways, d'you know where Jerry is? I asked bill but he got mad at me." Pete huffed "The dumb cunt will yell at anything... Yeah, i saw him. He's in the bathroom pretending to have a massive dump." Your eyebrows furrow in confusion "And... he's just pretending?" Pete nodded "Yeah, just wanted to play on his DS." Your eyes flickered to the boys bathroom, a long silence coming between you two. "I don't wanna go in there" Pete shrugged. "Do what you want but if you're gonna go in there, don't be so prissy like you always are." confusion crossed your face yet again, "prissy?" "Yeah!" Pete explained "You know, 'wash your hands before you eat, pete' 'eating of the ground is gross!' 'you gotta wash your hands every time you pee' you know, prissy girl shit." Your face was dropped in pure shock "You don't wash your hands every time you-" "Okay okay!" Pete suddenly cuts you off "Come on, get in there, Go meet your prince charming."

Okay, time to find Jerry sitting on the toilet so long he'll get haemorrhoids- HOLY SHIT THIS PLACE STINKS! "Ugh Jesus christ!" You exclaimed the moment you walked in... is someone crying in here? "Uh... hello? i cry on the toilet sometimes too, it's no biggie... i also get really constipated so that's probably part of it." "I'm not crying! god fucking damnit!" a familiar voice yelled back. "Oh, hey Josh. Man, i try to lay off the fat jokes but you're making it really hard to not bring up how Elvis Presley died." You could hear Josh sigh from behind the stall door "Get out, Y/N. This is the men's room! What are you gonna do? Grow a penis and use a urinal?" You got weirdly defensive at that and argued back, "Hey! you don't know what i'm capable of, man. Also where is Jerry? Pete said he was in here?" Josh grunted in both annoyance and struggle with the toilet. "I don't know. He wasn't here when i was, now get out!" You then snickered and mumbled a little too loud "Yeah, because your stench probably dissolved him." "FUCK OFF!" You then quickly scurried out of the bathroom, giggling to yourself.

As you were laughing to yourself at your own joke, you bumped into someone... Hey! It's Jerry! "Hi!" You immediately hugged him, giving him a kiss on his acne ridden cheek. Jerry froze up a bit, flustered at the sudden affection "U-uh... Thanks, buck." He said with an awkward chuckle, not giving a kiss back but holding your hand. He wasn't big on pda but he did appreciate your excitement towards him. "I wanted to ask you, d'you wanna watch Ren and Stimpy after school?" Jerry smiled gently "I'd love to."

[seersnake]

A Bird Amongst Griffins

Here's part 2 for you guys, hope you enjoy it as well. Again, I do not yet have a beta reader for things like Grammer so if you see anything, I apologize in advance.

The storm the night before had been a really bad one. The entire Rescue Team had spent all day bouncing from area to area, trying to clean up the damage. From a knocked over tree in the school yard, to roads covered in too much mud to drive through, to downed electrical wires, and everything between and beyond. Chief Burns pinched his brow, trying hard to will away the headache he was getting. He didn’t know if it was exhaustion from being constantly on rescues for the past seven hours or if it was that he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in that time, too busy to even stop at a store for something.

Chase turned on his internal screen, keeping his voice low as he questions, “are you becoming ill Chief Burns? If you are, we can go back to the Fire House and get you some Soup. Dani says that soup is very good when one is sick.”

With a sigh, Charlie removed his hand from his face. He manages to force a small smile while closing his eyes to block out the light, “I'm fine Chase, I'm just not a spring chick anymore is all.”

“Whoever called you a coward is severely mistaken Chief Burns.” Came the immediate reply from the agitated police cruiser.

Before Charlie could ask Chase what he meant by that, the radio crackled to life, drawing both their attention. It was Graham’s voice that came through the line, sounding just as tired as Chief felt, “we’ve got a Big emergency near the North Cliffs. Mr. Bunty said he was out on a walk with his Lobster and saw a boat washed up on the shore. He said he didn’t go near it but it looked like there was a body on the beach.”

Now that sends alarm bells through everyone’s heads. There’s a chance someone needed serious medical help on the beach. Chief opened up the radio, cutting the worried chatter from his other three kids, “understood. Everyone, head for the North Shore. Dani, Blades, be ready to airlift any injured people to the hospital.” When he gets an affirmative from all of his children, including Cody who has been flying with Dani and Blades for the past two hours, he relaxes just a bit. Everything was going to be fine. Chief Burns couldn’t help but sigh in worry anyways over what they may find.

Dani, Blades, and Cody got to the beach first, finding the wreck after only a few minutes. Dani radios in, “we see the boat, I don’t recognize it though. I think I see a body near it, but there’s nowhere around here we can land. I’m heading to the East side of the beach to find a place to land.” The trio fly back towards where they had come from, landing just as the other members of the rescue team arrived.

All four bots quickly transformed and Cody pointed to where the wreck was, “it’s up that way and it looks pretty bad. The whole ship’s on the beach and it’s in a ton of pieces!”

With a nod, they all hurried in the direction of the wreck, calling out for anyone who may have been a part of it that could hear them that help was on the way. It took the Rescue Team nearly ten minutes to get to the wreck so they could inspect it, and it was bad. The entire ship had been broken in two, there was wood and metal scraps from the broken ship all over the beach, as well as broken glass, soaking wet books, and a completely shattered laptop. There were tons of pieces of electronics that were scattered across the beach, nearly to the tree line, that were unsalvageable due to a mixture of water damage and impact damage. Though, despite having seen it less than 15 minutes before, the body on the beach was gone.

Blades scratched his head and motioned to where the steering wheel of the boat lay on the sand, “it was right here, I swear! They were wearing dark clothing, a big dark cape, and they were really pale! You saw it, right Dani??” The pilot could only nod confirming, “yeah, it was just here. Where did they even go, and why did they go? They would have been able to hear us yelling about help being on the way!”

Her elder brother shakes his head at his sister’s seeming naivety, “Sis. What if that’s why they ran? Who knows who that person was or what they’ve done! They could be a criminal on the run and our yelling scared them off and now they’re just on the island somewhere!” Though jumping to conclusions like this made Kade’s gut twist in an unpleasant way, the possibility of someone dangerous being on the island was too great a risk to ignore. Especially if it was someone who could endanger his family.

Dani shook her head as she shot his idea down, “Kade, whoever they are, they’re likely hurt and in pain. They could have a head injury that makes them unable to understand us, or for all we know, they might not even speak English. It’s likely they heard us yelling and saw the Bots before we could see them and they panicked and ran. I mean, most humans would be pretty scared of robots their size if they’ve never met them before.”

It was a good point, especially with all the stories from the mainland about people like Lex Luthor and Doctor Silvana using giant robots to attack towns and cities. Who knows what this person could have lived through or even just heard of before crashing on the island.

As the rest of them bickered about what could have happened to the stranger and why they would run away, Cody noticed drops of blood leading away from the puddle soaked into the sand. He glanced in the direction they headed, up towards the woods, before turning his eyes back to the trail and following after it. The indents in the sand made it look like whoever was there was stumbling, lending more evidence to them being seriously wounded.

Graham noticed his younger brother heading away towards the woods and called out worriedly, “Cody! Where are you going? Now isn’t the time for exploring.”

The blond simply pointed to the ground in front of him, “there’s more blood over here. I think whoever it was headed into the woods up there.” With that, the boy didn’t wait for his family to catch up, simply following after the drops on the ground.

When they catch up to him, Chief grabs his youngest son's shoulder before he can go into the tree line, pulling him back, “no way kiddo, we don't know if this person is hostile or not. Kade, Heatwave, head into the forest and see if you can track them down. The rest of you, head back to the wreck and see if you can find anything that could give us ideas as to who our mysterious guest is.” he patted his eldest on the shoulder with a small nod before heading back for the wreck.

Heatwave grumbled as he began trying to squeeze himself between the tightly packed trees of the forest without knocking any over, Kade not even bothering to hide his laughter as his partner managed to get himself stuck within minutes.

[fandonnavyce]

Jason in Wonderland - Part 3

Who Are You?

Part 1, Part 2, AO3

“Not all who wander are lost.” Gotham smiled. It was cruel. It was uncaring. It was welcoming.

“A̵̍̑͜r̶̞̳͋e ̸͍͜͝ÿ̶̢̥́o̸u No̸̖̯̽t̴͘ Họ̸̅̅m̸̿ẻ̸̩͘?̷̅ M̴̢͙̜��͓̂̑̉͝͝¥̶̖͙͖͇̳̃̿͑́͠ Sð̶͓͚̟̟͚͗̅̃̋̒ñ̸(Mine, mine, MINE)(My-Twice-Born)(My Red Knight)(My Beloved Bloody Butcherbird).”

“Your Son?” Jason tasted the name, the title, on the tip of his tongue.

Gotham smiled. Gleaming white teeth, straight and perfect, sparkled. ‘Dangerous’, Jason's instincts murmured.

“My Dear Robin,” she called.

Jason blanched.

“I am Not Robin.”

Gotham smirked.

“I am Not Robin,” Jason protested vehemently. Gotham gave an arched brow.

“My Son, My Robin, My Knight. Blood Red Shrike, Redbreast Bright. My Son, My Robin, My Knight.”

Gotham sang.

“O’ Robin. Wast Robin not borne from mine own very flesh? Didst thee not nurse on mine own blood and tears, teethed on mine own bones. Sleepeth and swaddled under mine own night skies blanket? Hath I not raised Robin on mine own streets?

O’ Robin. Didst Robin’s first steps not tread in milk-teeth sneakers upon mine own broken back? First words not chirped to mine own visage, in mine own ears With a chick’s cheeping?

O’ Robin.

With downy feathers of red, green, and gold didst Robin’s first flight not beginneth                      with a leap into mine own arms?

And after thee wast Lost to me on distant shores Forsaken Son, didst thee not Returneth to me? Thou art Walk Against Death as my Red Knight When you crawled out from Death’s Hold and Birthed yourself from my soil bed Wast thee not then Born Again? O’ My Darling Robin

O’ Son of Gotham Son of Catherine, Son of Sheila, Son of Willis, Son of Bruce, Scion of Alfred, Scion of Wayne. Jason Peter Todd, Gotham runs in thy veins. It’s in thy blood. I’m in the marrow of thy bones. Tis in thy DNA

If You, who left and returned to my bosom, If You, with me in your lungs, vanquishes those that prey on the humblest, are not My Robin then… Who Are You?

If ye, Who didst turn a Circus Child’s erstwhile boots and infant wings Into a Gotham Legacy, art not Robin mine then…

Ẃ̸̰h̵̞͎̓̔o̷̪͌̀ Aṛ̴̽t̷̛̖͉̾ T̴̩͍̿ḫ̴̇o̷̙̼̔ù̸̜̊?”

Jason’s mind blanked. Suddenly Red Hood, a name Jason had ripped off that blight on Gotham. That he wore second-hand. That he executed, ruled, and governed with, suddenly seemed ill-fitting, (too small) and unsuited (wretched) relative to everything else he had been. Bright, Wonderful, Magic. (I’m Robin and being Robin gives me Magic)

“I, I, I hardly know” Jason replied. “But I know I'm much changed from then, since when I was Robin.”

“What do you mean by that? Explain yourself Ṙ̵̳͊ob̵͛͝ḯ̵̙͕̍n.”

Jason shook his head. “I can't explain Myself beyond that I'm hardly Robin anymore. I don't even know how I, myself, came back from Death, you see.”

“I don't see,” said Gotham.

To Gotham, Robin was Robin was Robin was Robin was Robin.

“I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly.” Jason answered politely, “I don't understand Myself. Only that being so different is maddening.”

“It is not,” said Gotham. A Spirit born from the minds of thousands across generations; Gotham was Gotham was Gotham, no matter the skin or time the City wears.

“Surely, being like one kind of person then being like a totally different kind, whilst still being treated like they're the same. Is that not strange?”

“No.”

Jason scowled, frustrated at his failure to get his point across, and at Gotham’s refusal to see his way.

“Robin died!” Jason ground out, “Robin died with broken wings, a busted skull, choking on smoke, and with fire eating away at my flesh.” Jason gasped for air, “Robin died! And when I came back, I wasn’t Robin, I WAS MAD!!!”

Doubling over, Jason keened. His throat choked. His skin itched. His chest burned. Frustrated, desperate fingers clutched and dug for absent relief. His head SCREAMED!

Then he felt a gentle kiss upon his brow. A Mother’s Benediction. Jason gasped. Frantically, he rubbed away the welling tears of relief at the sudden calm.

“What was that?!” Jason demanded in quiet, seething, wide-eyed disbelief.

“You seemed to have developed a hypersensitive autoimmune response. Recollections of your demise seemed to have triggered an anaphylactic shock on an ectobiological scale. Your hybrid ectobiology are causing seizures that are, despite overt superficial similarities, of a state atypical of a Ghost’s Death Day because of- ”

“Speak plain english!” cried the Butcherbird to his Lady Gotham. “I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!” Jason breathed heavily in the silence. Gotham’s eyes are hooded, as garnet hair flutters and writhes upon her bare shoulders.

“You had an allergic reaction. At the very core of you.” Then with a wave of her black gloved hand, the scene blurs.

...

Jason stands on a rooftop with a gargoyle for company and two others:

Gotham’s Dark Knight and Robin Boy Wonder.

The Dark Knight is an amorphous spiked shadow-blob from the neck down and a facsimile of a horned shadowy head with a pair of white beaming eyes from the neck up.

Boy Wonder meanwhile is a five foot nothing dark haired kid dressed in a colourful top, a bright yellow cape, and green booty shorts with matching pixie boots. His indistinct youthful features behind the domino mask place him anywhere between the ages of 8 and twice that.

“Holy macaroni, you’re in rough shape!”

“Hmm”

Jason blue-screens.

“Did we break his brain?”

“Hnn”

“Should we-”

“Who are you?” Jason interrupted. Jason already knew. But he just wanted them to say it.

Whispers rasped from the rustling wind.

  “I am Vengeance . I am The Night .”

  The Dark Knight’s shroud flared to impossible, intimidating heights.

 “ I’m Batman.” 

Jason felt his skin break out into goosebumps as he stared up into the night sky dominated by Gotham’s Dark Knight.

“AND I'M ROBIN!”

Like a bright firework bang, Robin shone high in the sky.

Fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip.

An iconic dazzling quadruple flip splashed against the sky. Robin gracefully danced with gravity to finish with a beautiful descent. The moves were Dick Grayson.

But that was a rough Gotham brogue - kenned from the mouths of street alley rats.

[divinelolita]

Hello! I love your writing so much, you saved me with the x male reader 🙏🏻 I was wondering if you could do one where Bill is always denying his sexuality. Like, reader already has feelings for him and Bill likes reader too but tries to push it away and in an interview Bill gets asked about liking men and he's like "of course I don't, it would be a waste for all the pretty girls" and stuff, just like that one interview and reader is kinda hurt. But when they get back to the tour bus and they all fall asleep, reader wakes up late at night and walks up to Bill crying and when he asks him what's wrong Bill expresses his fears and that he just wants to be loved for who he is and don't feel ashamed about it (already crying omg 😭) and then reader gets the opportunity and tells him about how he feels about Bill. In the beginning Bill denies it like, "no you can't love me, why me?" and insecurities and stuff but at the end reader kisses him and Bill gives in and then end up sleeping in each other's arms, Bill being the small spoon you know 😩 I hope you like the idea! Thank you so much!!

BILL X READER: INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

hii love! im so glad you like my writing ��😻 ewwwahh it gets corny during the confession part but erm..

"Let's welcome Tokio Hotel, ladies and gentlemen!"

Bill wanted to puke as he heard those words, hearing all the fangirls and boys scream and squeal like guinea pigs. His stomach curled and he actually felt sick. Oh god, was it too late to cancel an interview? He just wanted to go back to the tour bus, to just sit and watch TV..put on one of M/N's favorite shows and eat snacks and.. -

"Bill, c'mon let's go! We'll follow you out." Tom hissed, patting his brother on the shoulder with a small push. The dreadhead paused, about to ask if Bill was feeling okay, because he looked ill and slightly more pale than usual, but Bill had already began to walk out from the curtains, praying to whatever god was out there he wouldn't trip. M/N followed shortly behind, giving Bill a smile when he looked over his shoulder with a fearful expression.

Bill sat down in the black chair on the stage, listening to the roars and claps of fans come from the space before him. He looked over at M/N, feeling his heart beat quicken. He really did like interviews sometimes, but actually sitting down infront of thousands of people was enough stress to make him go into tears. Although, as he looked at M/N, all his nervousness and anxiety slowly melted away with a small smile, accompanied with a pat to his shoulder. "We got this Bill, it's just like every other time."

He comforted, not looking away until Bill gave a soft nod and grin, thanking the boy under his breath as the applauds slowly died out. He turned his attention to the interviewer infront of them, an older man with greyish-blonde hair. Bill quite liked his tuxedo, he wondered if he could buy the same. His heart skipped a beat as the interviewer cleared his throat, folding his hands as he looked at all the band members.

"Ah..It's so nice to have you guys here!" The interviewer grinned. Oh god, the roars started up again, whistling and hoots coming from the crowd. The band could only smile and laugh, giving nods as they answered "Its great to be here." although it could barley be heard. As soon as the cheers died down again, the interviewer continued. "Hmm, there are a lot of people here. Why don't you all introduce yourself?"

Why oh why? Didn't everybody already know their names? Why did he have to introduce himself? Why why why why-

"I'm Bill Kaulitz. Singer." he smiled, looking over at the camera infront of them.

"Tom Kaulitz. Guitarist.."

"Georg Listing, I'm the bassist."

"Gustav Schäfer. Drums!"

"...M/N. Bassist aswell."

The crowd whooped inbetween everybody, which was starting to get old for Bill. Tom probably didn't mind, his twin watched as the brunette was looking off into the crowd, most likely at some hot chick. Bil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he didn't want that on TV.

Bill sat nervously, on the edge of his seat as he saw how the interviewer glanced down at his notes before directly looking at Bill himself. "Mm.. Let's start with you Bill, yes?" God no. No thank you, anybody else start please.... "Yeah, why not?" Bill gave a small chuckle as he fixed his posture slightly. He braced himself, heart thumping as he stopped all movements as he began to ponder what the question would be. Oh no.. Please no.

His heart stopped as the interviewer leaned in with a sly smile, squinting his eyes slightly almost as if he was taunting Bill. "So, Bill," he began, taking a second to look at the crowd before continuing, "There's been some rumors squirming about your sexuality, as you might have heard due to the makeup and clothing...care to set the record straight?" Oh.

The crowd was uncomfortably quiet, looking at Bill with piercing eyes waiting for his response. Bill could feel the looks his band members were sending him, even Tom was looking directly at him with a quirked eyebrow. Bill cleared his throat, his mouth going dry as he felt his heart beat quicken. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm definitely not gay...would be a waste to all the girls don't 'cha think?" he responded, trying to ease the air. He nearly let out a relieved sigh as he heart the audience laugh a bit and clap.

He got the courage to look at his band members, but they didn't seem to care. Tom gave Bill a soft nod before returning his gaze to the audience. Georg gave a small smile and Gustav Rose his eyebrows for a second before letting them go back down, now looking at the interviewer awaiting the next question. As Bill looked at M/N, he expected him to at least give a soft grin, but no. He gave him a weird look...a look mixed with emotions Bil couldn't distinguish. He almost looked..sad? A tad bit hurt?

M/N could only clench his fists, blinking back tears threatening to fall. His heart sank deeper and deeper with each word Bill had spoken, and he felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly. He felt as if Bil was holding back- hell he knew he was lying. He knew Bill better than anyone. Okay..maybe not better than Tom. But he just knew something wasn't right.

Bil could only sigh as he leaned backinto hi seat, trying to ignore the thoughts he had about possibly angering M/N. He didn't intend to make him sad! Or hurt. Or whatever the hell he was...

Why was he so..upset?

---

Bill stammered back into the tour bus with a groan, barley making it to the couch. He plopped himself down, not bothering to take off his makeup. He heard a soft laugh from Tom as his brother put a hand to his forehead, checking if he was ill or overheated. He could make out a faint command come from his brother, yet didn't respond until the third time he said it. "Take off your jacket, you'll get too hot." he stayed motionless for a moment before removing the leather piece of clothing, taking it to the bunk beds as he threw it down next to his bunk. He pulled off his shoes and got into his bed, his hair still spikey and hard with hairspray.

M/N didn't really talk as the tour bus drove on, giving a soft smile to Georg when he had been told he was very well-spoken during the interview. He barley talked as he ate dinner, twirling the pasta on his fork as he spaced out, being reminded by Tom it would be cold if he didn't eat it. He glanced over at the unopened container of pasta, having the word 'Bill' written in chicken-scratch-like writing.

Then he glanced back at where Bill was laying down, how he could hear soft snores and shuffles come from the bunk. He felt a pang in his heart as he thought about just how beautiful Bill was today, how his makeup was more perfect than usual and how his clothes stood out. How his hair looked so gorgeous and how black his fingernails were.

How was it possible to be so amazing? He has always wondered whenever he glanced at the singer. Whenever he took a peak at Bill he couldn't pull his gaze away, mesmerized by the beauty infront of him. He just..loved Bill so much. Yet Bill didn't like boys, according to him. No, he liked girls.

M/N didn't speak for the rest of the night, going straight to bed shortly after he finished the last of his spaghetti.

--

M/N groaned as he suddenly awoke, his shoulders hurt and he couldn't move his legs for a few seconds. He turned to the other side of his bed, smiling when he became comfortable again. He muzzled into the blanket slightly as he sighed, looking forward to sleeping again. Until he heard a small sniffle. He tossed his head lazily over his shoulder, wincing as he pulled the muscle. The air was quiet, accompanied by the occasional snores coming from Gustav.

M/N ignored this, letting his head fall back down as he closed his eyes once more. He felt so good, he was so comfortable and he was so warm. He felt himself start to lose consciousness, hearing nothing but the faint beat of his heart in his pillow, and then another sniffle was heard. This time with a small sob attached to the end. He heard shaky breathes come from somebodies bunk, yet it was too high pitched to be Georg. Who would be crying right now...

"Bill?" M/N whispered hoarsly, his voice raspy and quiet due to just waking up. He listened to how the noises stopped the moment he said something, how the shuffling had instantly paused. He took a second to think if he was really gonna get out of bed. He was so damn comfortable, he was in the perfect position and...

M/N slowly got out of bed, wincing as his legs nearly gave out on him. He stood for a second, stretching, before he walked over to Bills bunk, the curtain covering his bed. He awkwardly stood there before whispering another soft "Bill.."

This time he asked, he heard another shaky breath followed by a sniffle. M/N hesitantly reached his hand out, pulling at the curtain softly. There Bill sat, knees up to his chest and his arms holding them even closer. His head was perched on his kneecaps as soft tears went down his face, down his cheeks and onto his neck and shirt. M/N took a second before he sat down next to his friend, attempting to comfort him.

Bill sat still, although soft sobs would escape his mouth. Although it was clear he was holding back, since his body was shaking and trembling. His eyes were basically red and his cheeks were flushed with pink. He could barley look at the boy next to him, only being able to glance over before he took in a shaky inhale and started crying again.

It stayed like this, completely silent apart from a few sniffles from Bill and snores from Gustav before M/N began to talk. "Bill..what's wrong?" He questioned, a hand going to rub his bestfriends back. Bill took a second before responding, leaning into the touch of his friend. "I'm..I’m scared, M/N." Bill muttered, his voice high pitched as he tried to stop his tears, soft whines coming from his mouth as he tried to breath probably.

"I'm just scared of being outed to the public..god they already think I'm gay anyways..." he hiccuped, his hands going up to harshly wipe his eyes. "I want to find someone..who likes me for me. Who actually likes me, M/N. I just wanna date and not have to worry about the gender of the person and..." Bill trailed off, covering his head with his hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm making this so awkward." he groaned, feeling uncomfortable as M/N stayed silent.

"I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to be scared, Bill. It sucks that we're famous and everything's on TV, huh?" M/N let out a watery chuckle, taking Bills limp hand into his own. "Ive seen you for who you truly are, how you are off screen. The real you. I love every part about you Bill, I truly do. I love you so much, all the way from your spiky hair to your platform shoes. I love you so much. " Bill peaked up from his arms, looking at M/N with an expression mixed with confusion and horror.

"No...no you can't. You can't love me that's not..." Bill blabbered, eyes flickering back and forth from M/N's. His heart beat quickened and he was sure it was going to pop out of his chest and fall out infront of them. "It's not right." Bill said, although his eyes filled with tears as he inched closer to his friend, actions going against his words.

M/N stayed silent, looking at Bills beautiful face before he leaned in, going to peck Bills lips. Bill nearly pulled away, but felt himself slowly melt into the kiss, gripping M/N's hand tightly. This wants right, he knew it. Or at least he thought he knew. He couldn't think about anything else other than M/N right now as the boy held his free hand into Bills chin. Bill felt an ungodly amount of weight lifting off his shoulders as his anxiety slowly drifted, leaving him feeling content and..strangely calm.

As M/N pulled away, he watched as Bills eyebrows scrunched in concussion, still holding M/N's hands tight. M/N traced the lines in Bills hands as best he could, due to the lighting not being the best before pulling away, and pulled up the covers from Bills bed, starting to get up to go to his own bunk. "Wait!" Bill whisper-shouted, trying not to wake the others up. He gripped onto M/N's forearm tightly, which made M/N pause and look at Bill with concern.

"Stay. Please."

Bill didn't need to say anything else. M/N crawled back in, laying next to Bill as he pulled the covers over both of them. "C'mere." M/N mumbled sleepily, feeling his eyelids grow heavy once more. Bill happily shuffled over, allowing himself to be spooned by his friend. Or boyfriend. Bill truly didn't know. That didn't matter right now though. All that mattered now was M/N's hand draping over Bills waist, holding him close.

Bill could only wish M/N would still be here with him by morning.

[arixsturns]

GORGEOUS C.S

(Theres two songs bc i couldn’t choose 😭)

Summary : chris comes home after filming with his brothers and finds out his girlfriend hasn’t eaten the entire day ( its 10pm) so he makes it his mission to get her to eat

WARNINGS : rlly short . readers name is gracie .Mentions of ED ( based off req ) slight cursing . 1st pov . Kissing . Nicknames ( baby , sweetheart , love) Maybe more idk 🤷‍♀️

Authors note : my second fic ( whateva you call it ) but i deleted the first one 😭 so yea and recommendations are super appreciated!!🫶🏼

“ Gracie!” Chris yelled as he got home after filming a youtube video with his brothers . You ran down your stairs to greet your boyfriend “ Hiii” you say leaning in to kiss him . “ look what we got you” Chris says handing you a plastic elephant toy “ it reminded me of you, because your favorite animal is a elephant “ he says while taking off his shoes “ thats so sweet of you” you say gazing at the plastic toy .

“When was the last time you ate?” Chris asks looking over at you “ uhh.. earlier why?” You reply expecting him to take your answer “ are you sure?.. you didn’t eat the wrap we got you from toco bell earlier”

“ i don’t like toco bell” you lie trying to get him to stop questioning you . “ baby i swear i ate” you say sighing . “ no i don’t believe you” he says walking over to you “ you need to eat something , love “

“ ill make you something and we can eat together , you have to eat food for your body to work properly “ Chris says while sitting next to you “ fine” you say and Chris smiles .

Five minutes later you and Chris are in the kitchen together laughing like little kids as he cooks you two a meal “ i could be a five star chef” Chris says making you laugh “ sure” you say sarcastically . “ almost done sweetheart “ Chris says making you smile

When he finishes making your dinner and plates it , he brings it over to your table where you two sit next to each and Chris smiles at you “yours so gorgeous baby.. eat your food” he says as you slowly take a bite chris pats your back “ in proud of you” he says as you two continue to eat and enjoy each others company for the rest of the night .

This is really short and the ending is so trash😭 but yeahhh!😭🫶🏼 who wanna be part of my tag list?

[cowboylor]

meet cute

you need an emergency boyfriend and ross happens to fit the role.

warnings: language, creepy men? in uncomfortable situations?, implied alcohol consumption, fake dating blurb yay

wc: 1.5k

note: this was just for giggles but i'm gonna post it. cheers! :)

Your life mantra is not to wish ill will on anyone but—

“Bet you we could set up your crypto account tonight. Hell, even chicks like you need to get in on this.”

Fuck this guy. Absolutely fuck him.

You're trying to be positive; trying to look for any part of him that you think you can stomach. But you hate his hairstyle and the way the gel clings to it like a different entity. And you don't like his voice when he talks over you. Or the trickles of spit that spew out of his mouth when cutting you off.

Worst of all, the more time you spend listening and narrowing your eyes the more trapped you feel.

It wasn't exactly your friend's fault for finding someone exciting and she had to make a swift exit with them through the back door. In any other setting, you'd commend, even applaud her for getting laid but now—

Todd is here. Or Tim.

You're barely tipsy but can't recall his name for the life of you. But he doesn't seem to mind; talking your ear off about his bitcoin investments and how his independent company is finally taking off after years in practice.

You bring your glass to your lips, muttering sardonically, “Even chicks like me?”

He grins. “Certainly.”

Fighting off a snort, you set your drink on the bar top. You busy yourself with anything to avoid more small talk; checking the time on your phone, scrolling through old emails, and even jotting down a few miscellaneous items for your grocery list.

When have Friday nights become this cruel to you?

“Then, how ‘bout it?”

You perk up. “Sorry?”

He stands by your side with a toothy grin and an eyebrow raised that makes your stomach churn.

You avoid his eye again out of habit, laughing uncomfortably as he steps closer to you to press his shoulder to yours.

“Us taking this somewhere else.”

You blink.

The word 'no' threatens to spill out of your lips, along with 'eat shit' and 'not in this economy' but alas—you're silent and shifting your eyes uncomfortably again because you are not too sure any of those options would deter him anyway.

He barks a laugh and your face warms.

“I need to make a call.” You end up saying before quickly retreating to the other side of the bar.

He lets you go with a raised glass and smirk.

You wander over to the corner. You try calling your friend once before the voicemail comes and you're cursing lowly. Glancing up at the exit sign, you weigh your options quickly before looking back across the room.

You watch as Todd, or Tim, picks up his draped coat from the bar top and tops off his drink with one last swig.

Shit.

Your eyes skirt over rows of people. Past the obvious bachelorette party that you could realistically get lost in and get a shot of tequila out of it. Past the pretty bartender with a sleeve of tattoos, and past the middle-aged man who sports a green cardigan over his button-up.

The door of the bar opens and you're walking over before you can think twice.

“Babe!” You jeer loudly and then immediately close your mouth.

'Babe' is tall and looks kind, which is already enough to rival Tim (you're ninety percent sure it's Tim). He checks behind himself, craning his neck to see if anyone is behind him because you definitely couldn't be talking to him. He lets out a sound of surprise when you clash into him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you awkwardly embrace.

“Can I ask a favor?” You say in a hushed voice, peering up at him through your hug.

“Uh,” He opens and reopens his mouth before landing on a simple, “Sure?”

“Need you to be my fake boyfriend,” You say, resisting the urge to roll your shoulders in disgust at the way it sounds. You glance over to Tim. “Please?”

He follows your line of sight, before immediately wrapping an arm around you.

“Been looking for you!” You gush loudly.

“I'm here now,” He assures, letting you grip his shoulders like you're taken with him.

And partly, you are. With your face buried into the front of his coat, you can't help but notice how good he smells. Woodsy is the word you land on before he's tapping his index finger against your lower back until you whip around to face Tim's furrowed brow.

“Oh,” You breathe out.

You shift, detangling limbs from your fake boyfriend's body to lean into his side instead. Awkwardly, he rests his arm around your waist.

“This is my friend,” You say to him before your eyes flit back to Tim.

He nods before extending his hand. “Ross.”

Good to know. Really good to know.

You watch as Tim undecidedly takes his hand before roughly shaking it. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you open your mouth to explain an early exit.

Tim interrupts, “Are you two–”

“Yes!” You both say.

Tim’s gaze hardens. “Oh.”

He looks indecisive; as if debating whether or not he wants to say something more that could possibly get him into trouble. He would if Ross wasn't here—or if Ross happened to be a foot shorter. Yet, Tim just purses his lips and nods.

“We would love to stay...” You trail off before glancing up at Ross.

He catches your look. “But we have plans.”

You nod enthusiastically.

Romantic ones, you want to quip to really drive it home. You settle for a hand on his chest to get your point across.

“Right,” Tim says, eyeing you directly. It looks like he finally gained enough courage because he takes another step closer to you. “So no–”

“Have a good one, mate.” Ross interrupts, stepping in front of you.

You're only able to exhale when he retreats to the other end of the bar. Then, you're reactively stepping away from Ross and his gaze is falling to the hand that held you by the waist.

“Thank you,” You say like you're out of breath. He looks up at you with a smile that would put any other person at ease, but for you, it has you screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment. “And I'm so sorry."

He laughs. “For what?”

“I'm sure you didn't expect to be terrorized when you were just coming here for a drink,” You explain in rush, your words running together in an effort to get them out all at once. “I got ditched and trapped and none of that was going great—”

You know you sound like a case, but Ross listens to you go on until you’re sighing and looking at him apologetically again.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” He frowns when you say it again. He hesitates before adding, “I’m just glad I didn't get throttled by anyone.”

You blankly stare, eyes running up his stature. “You would’ve been fine.”

His eyes light up.

“Saying I could’ve taken him?” He teases.

You laugh quietly. “You’d have a fighting chance.”

There's a brief pause of silence between the two of you that has you thinking this is where it ends. Before Ross ends up bidding you a quick goodbye and making his way to his group of friends or painfully informing you that his non-fake girlfriend is waiting for him at the other end of the bar top. You're prepared to apologize again, the "s" word is on the tip of your tongue—

“What’s my girlfriend's name?”

Your mind stutters momentarily, and you look at him in surprise. He's peering down at you and you realize your assumption that he looked kind was completely accurate. His eyes fucking radiate it.

You give him your name and hand sheepishly.

“Can I walk you to your car?” He asks after, still holding your hand. Then he nods to the bar, “Or buy you a drink?”

You chuckle shyly. “Shouldn’t I buy you a drink for what I put you through?”

“If you’d like,” He shrugs. “If that gets you to stay.”

You spare a look away from Ross to survey the bar. You can't see him anywhere but your eyes still skirt over every bar seat just to make sure.

“I'll hold your hand the whole time,” He adds lightheartedly, following your eyes as you glance around the room. Then he quips a quiet, "Don't think he'd try anything anyway."

“Boyfriend of the year,” You muse at him with a smile.

You swear tints red at this but you don't linger on it too long, letting his hand brush yours as guides you back to the bar. He ducks his head down, murmuring something along the lines: “Would be a pretty shitty one if I didn't.”

[nellielsss]

ᴜᴘᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ: ᴀ ʟɪꜱᴛ

𐦍༘⋆ ݁A/n: Sooo... I've been in a brainstorming mood (ever since I graduated high school and had more time to think), and I have a few upcoming fics that I'm thinking about doing. I've also REALLY been thirsting over Toji like yes that is my man!! I will indeed be standing beside him. Anyway!! Here's some of my ideas in order of which one's I'm most likely to write.

Heartbreaker songfic!: one of my personal favorite Mariah Carey songs, it's such a sweet and fun bubblegum (with a mix of R&B) song to listen to! Basically in this songfic, the reader's just playing a bunch of characters and stringing them along LMAO. I felt like turning the tables on the men & making them pine instead.

Blow songfic: basically just headcanons on how the men give head. Whether it be pussy-eating, dick-sucking or ass-eating, these men are down for anything, and this details how they get down (in my opinion).

Meeting the Zen'in Clan: a Toji-centered fic, this details meeting the Zen'in Clan and how (poorly) it turns out. Basically, Toji has a grandmother who tried to care for him during his time with the clan, and she's fallen ill, so he wants to see her one last time at a banquet. Naoya, the little shit he is, somehow gathered details about reader and outs her as a trans woman in front of everyone at the table. You can guess how it goes from there!

Marriage Eyes: headcanon + mini-fic on how the guys look at you when they know they wanna lock you in.

Touch My Body songfic: a forbidden romance featuring Toji, Satoru & Nanami!

Too Much Sex: the guys love you(r holes), but it's beginning to be a little too much for you. How would they react when you instate a sex ban on them?

Beautiful Liar songfic: you're on a date with a guy, and it all goes to shit when you run into the girl they're seeing on the side. Two-timing is not your thing, so you decide to ditch him with the most attractive man you see at the bar!

Stay The Night songfic: short little drabble where you don't wanna see your man go, so you opt to have a sleepover on the spot.

The Boy Is Mine songfic: how would the guys react when the girl they've been seeing ultimately ends up being the only girl who's not murdered?

Baddest Chick Wearing Their Chain: the guys wonder how you'd look wearing their initials/name around your neck.

Honey songfic: what's one way to show your partner some love? By dripping it all over 'em, of course! (if you catch my drift)

Fashion Week: the guys start dating a model, and they get a firsthand look at the fashion biz. He wonders if the stereotype about models being catty holds up...

Gym Pics: short and sweet, self-explanatory.

Fighting a Cat?!: cats can be a pain in the ass if they don't like you, so when they finally get invited over to their girlfriends' house, the guys are at a loss when their sweet angel's sweet angel isn't exactly a sweet angel to them in private.

Hey, Neighbor!: Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives ref. hehe) wasn't a place where they expected to meet fine young women, but the guys could at least hope, right? So when the answer to their prayers moves in down the street, they're more than eager to go after what they've been waiting for.

Up Out My Face songfic: they know they've messed up badly, and they also know that their girlfriends have suitors lined up just waiting to take their places. So, how are they gonna go about getting them back before it's too late?

ᡣ𐭩 If you couldn't tell, I really like listening to music. Some of these might take a while (like the Zen'in Clan fic), so bear with me (ó﹏ò｡) but trust, I'll get to each of these eventually!! I also might update 'em as time goes on, just to make sure that the writing's all cohesive and makes sense.

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/8/2024

[misericordia-writing]

Lightning Bugs

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙜𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙙-𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚.

𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙’𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨."

Chapter 1 of Matchbook

Pairings: Danny Johnson/Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Angst, Fluff

Summary: A character exploration of Danny. I've noticed most fics make him super funny and sardonic, and while I love that, I imagine I'd have huge moral qualms about dating a serial killer. So I wrote this. Not particularly dark, but depressing? I don't know. I’m sorting things out. Probably super OOC. Enjoy.

TW for canon-typical violence, implications of mental illness, and unhealthy relationships/power imbalance (naturally)

Ao3: s://archiveofourown.org/works/45585013/chapters/114704077

    "I hate that you're right."

        The words come out quietly one night, while you're sitting on a muggy balcony that smells like cigarettes and acetone. The green-gray haze of Floridian night swamping you in swaths of gnats, only gently dissuaded by a mesh screen.

        A streetlamp flickers and dulls, the painted metal cart of a dollar store clinks against its siblings, and an old man sputters and coughs up into his shirt collar.

        "About what?"

        "About people. Humanity. Life. Society. That type of stuff." You say, balancing a bottle of black nail polish on your thigh while you try to paint your toes. "How it's just primal violence. You're pretty much right."

        He doesn't respond. Normally, you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about this stuff so openly, outside, where a neighbor could hear you. But everyone is busy tonight. You’re not too surprised that he’s memorized their schedules. Furtively scratching pens into notebooks almost every single second that he’s not busy playing out stories. Too enamored to eat or sleep or wash the dishes. ‘That’s one of the reasons I keep you around,’ he had said, in partial jest, as if you were his mid-century housewife.

        "Listen, I'm not just sucking up to you like some chick in a horror movie, trying to persuade the killer that she's on his side. As applicable as that may be. You're right. Genuinely."

        "I thought you were into all of that spirituality stuff. Being good. Reaching nirvana and donating to the thrift store." He mutters, methodically scraping the debris of last night out from under his nails. Jed has work tomorrow.

        Jed Olsen is who you signed up for, back when you were still a recent college graduate, finally having gotten to the 'good' part of your life. Feeling hopeful, cheery even. Watering your plants, picking up dandelions off the side of the road, smiling at strangers. Saving up to buy a nice house someday, with a garden and personal study. Somewhere you could bake in, read in, live in. Maybe even find someone to share it with.

        ‘You were just so sweet,’ He said one time, while you were in his car. He had locked the doors and told you that he just couldn’t trust you that much, yet. But soon.

        ‘Always so withdrawn, cautious. But sweet. Barely able to deal with playing nice to co-workers, but then turning your back and smiling at weeds in the cracks of a sidewalk. Surprising, considering the way you dress. All rock n’ roll, usually. Black looks good on you. That scraped-up Walkman attached to your hip. Diverse taste. I mean, the way you seamlessly went from Bauhaus to Blondie in the span of an hour was truly something.’ Sip.

        ‘All while performing an elaborate routine in your bedroom- complete with costume changes and a hairbrush microphone. You really could be a rockstar, sweetheart. Too bad though, I don’t think that’ll happen. Maybe in your next life.’

        He paused to look at his milkshake, then dipped a fry in it. ‘Different- odd and unusual, but not in the predicable early-twenty-year old way I see a lot. Talking to the spiders you would find in your room, politely asking them to leave. So observant and smart. But ultimately, I guess you just weren’t observant or smart enough, were you?’ He barked out a laugh, triumphantly.

        He was so charming, the way he would stop by your job before work. Monday through Friday. Pretending to think for a minute, before ordering the exact same coffee as he always did. Coincidentally loving the same books, talking with you about the new episode of a sitcom you had been watching the night before. Handsome, and only a few years older, with a degree from a similar program to yours under his belt. Good reputation, wonderful penmanship. Enthusiastic, kind- but with a quick wit.

        He made you feel special- which, apparently, you were. Just not in the way you’d think.

        "I am, still." You sigh, painting, the brush spreading smooth inky black across keratin. A drop of paint drips onto the skin of your foot.

        You scrape it away with the back of your fingernail and quickly dab it to a folded paper towel.

        "Danny." You say, looking at him. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

        He tsks, as if the question offends him. "You really want me to be the judge on ethics? Are you forgetting who I am? What I do?" A gravelly punch dips the last syllable of each sentence, almost like a growl.

        "No," You say, "I'm just asking. Besides, I thought you thought you were right? Do you think that your actions are ethical? By your logic, that we are all inherently violent and terrible, then you wouldn't be evil for acting on that. My beliefs lie somewhere in the middle. Just curious."

        He pauses, dark eyes looking down into the parking lot. The man is gone, and the cart is pushed neatly back into its place.

        Sweltering heat. He smells like detergent, the good middle-of-the-road kind. Sticky notes. Cologne. Sweat. Iron.

        "No."

        You frown, looking down through the mesh as well. Lightning bugs light up the brush at the edge of the apartment complex. “Fireflies!” You say, with childish glee. You almost forget the crushing guilt for a minute, beaming down at the glowing shrubs.

        You’re eight again, bare feet padding through wet grass, trying to catch them in a jar. Somebody is having a barbeque, and you’re going to go to bed tired and happy tonight, with a dozen itchy mosquito bites down your legs.

        You wonder what eight-year-old you would think about this situation. You wish you could go back in time, tell yourself to never move to this god-forsaken red state.

        Surely, that way, Daniel Johnson would’ve never stumbled into your life, staining you with the blood on his hands.

        He still doesn’t say anything, other than a hum, so you sit back down. Finishing the last coat of paint on your smallest toe.

        The plastic weaving of the chair digs into the backs of your thighs, and you set the polish back down on the accent table. The thermometer reads 85 degrees Fahrenheit.

        “I hate myself.” You say, feeling every bitter moment and truth from your past bubble up at once. Every scrape, burn, and cut. “I don’t understand why you do what you do. It makes me feel guilty for you. Like I’m the one doing those things. Am I not just as bad? I don't try to stop you. I should.”

        You often feel that Danny’s twenty steps ahead of you. Just waiting for the right moment. Chess and checkers.

        A bead of sweat rolls down your back, the tank top you wear doing little to reduce the humidity. You stand up and walk to stand in front of him. “But yet here I am. I’m still surprised you haven’t killed me yet. You said you were going to. Why not?”

        “I probably will when the time is right." He looks up at you for a moment, pausing before looking back at the sky.

        "If it makes you feel any better, you don’t really have a choice in what I do, or a choice in being involved with me… I would find my way in, in any situation. This is probably just some type of Stockholm syndrome kicking in. So you survive. Fun, right? Your brain and body are doing the best they can to cope with the reality. Of your situation. Of how you feel about me. Really, you’re lucky. You think all of the others wouldn't have taken this opportunity? Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

        He swats a mosquito nonchalantly.

        “Yeah, I guess so.” You say, sitting down at the foot of his lawn chair. “Do you care about me?”

        “A little bit.” He says, gaze off to the side. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

        You laugh, though you aren’t sure if he was trying to be funny. Not that it was very funny in the first place.

        “For the record,” He says, “You’ve made it longer than anyone else has. Normally I lose interest. I’m not done watching you yet. I don’t know if I want to end your story. It’s my favorite.”

        “Well, if I’m nothing else, at least I’m a serial killer’s favorite 'story'.” You roll your eyes, but there isn’t too much sarcasm behind it.

        “You make me feel the way I feel when I kill, sometimes. I don’t know if I love you, because I don’t really believe in that stuff. But I like you more than most things.” He says, fingers reaching out to twirl a lock of your hair. 

        The same fingers that dig knives into people and then snap pictures of it after. That rip intestines out and turn them into party streamers. The same fingers that would’ve done the same thing to you, too. That still might.

        That fantasize about it, twitching sometimes when you turn your back. Itching to grab you by the throat and finally write a conclusion. Aching to make you a headline.

        Fingers that move down to your neck now, feeling the red pulse of your blood. Padding up to the side of your face and wiping a welling tear away from the corner of your eye.

        Fingers that have held your hair back when you puked, and gripped your hand firmly in public when you can’t find the clarity to process all the different sounds of a supermarket. Let you pick out your favorite candy at the video store, made popcorn with you on the stove.

        Pressed your favorite VHS into the player for the third time that week, not because he found it particularly groundbreaking, but because you couldn’t get out of bed to wash your hair or eat, and that stupid movie was- for whatever reason- the only thing capable of distracting you from the thought of pink-red water slotting down the drain of his porcelain white bathtub.

         “I feel that way too, sometimes.” You rasp. “Minus the whole killing people part. I don’t know if it exists. Love. At least, not as the thing people say it is. Really relates back to the animalistic nature thing, right? Do animals feel ‘love’? We are animals. I’ve felt things like love, but never what I’m supposed to. I wish I knew. Snakes like warm rocks. Do they love warm rocks?”

         “You’re probably never going to know.” He says, bluntly, nails scratching at your scalp. You wonder if he's only doing it to get the last flakes of dried blood out. You imagine little beams coming from his fingers, wiggling into your brain and picking out all of your synapses. Mapping your psyche.

       He probably would if he could, but then he might get bored and gut you for his collage.

        “Yeah,” You sigh, “I know. But… I love you. The closest to love I think I can.”

        “I know.” On anybody else, it would sound almost pitying.

        You know that even if he loved you, he would never say it. The words will not leave his mouth. But you feel loved. The way that he touches you, the way he presses against your back sometimes, in the middle of dark, foggy nights. Covers kicked off the bed, and a face pressed into your neck. Him keeping a box of special pictures under the bed, just of you, that you don’t think he knows you know about-  but maybe he knows that you know. Some of them from before you even met. Almost all of them when you weren’t looking.

        And later that night, when you’ve locked the screen door, and he’s meticulously arranged his piles of papers, looked through his hastily (passionately) scrawled designs one more time, and finished the laundry, you two lay down in the bed. As the moonlight streams down onto his face, dark hair reflecting its soft glow, you sigh. A hand reaches out to stroke his neck, and you wonder again why he does the things he does. He lets you. You can feel the heartbeat in his throat.

        Danny hates when he falls asleep before you, but you like it. So rarely do you get to see him off-guard- innocent and peaceful, brows finally unknitted. The little scar on his forehead that he keeps covered. The slow rise and fall of his stomach against you, occasionally an upper arm tensing over your shoulder. The way he rests his face in your hair, or the crook of your neck.

        Surprisingly cuddly, for a ruthless, taunting killer, who you know for a fact has slaughtered more than enough people to fill the  floor-plan of your shared apartment, probably, if you laid them down flat.

       ‘Thirty-two,’ he’d grinned, proud of himself. ‘Not many others can say the same, can they?’

        You grimaced. ‘No, I suppose not.'

        Your stomach churns again, before you drift off. You dream about fireflies and going to prison. People screaming and swimming in a pink-red bathtub. Sometimes you think it would be easier if he had just killed you the way he planned. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so guilty for being alive, then.

        If you could go back in time, you would fix him. You like to tell yourself that, sometimes. That you could change his outcome, and the fates of dozens of others as well. You would treat him right, never let the sickness twist his mind. Stop his father from planting a seed of despair and overwhelming hatred in his heart. Let him be ignorant and happy, watch the news. Not make the news.

        Maybe you would have a nice house together, if it were Jed, and you could make lemonade and watch fireworks together. Kiss him on the cheek and watch him smile. Have deep conversations that take all night, but never reach past the abstract and theoretical, into the realm of reality. Be normal. You were foolish to ever wish for anything other than normal. You would kill to have normal, now. To live without the churning in your stomach.

        You really should be more careful what you wish for.