#like. we were homeless for a second and i was processing the fact i was trafficked when i was younger and its all been super heavy

[mamadoowop]

not to be dramatic but life in the world to come has demonstrably made my life better and made a very difficult part of my trauma recovery bearable and I'm endlessly thankful for its existence

[murderofravens]

something about inho that people forget or misinterpret is the fact that he's not the complete heartless sadist that a large part of the fandom portrays him out to be. so far in the show, some of his most genuine moments are his hand trembling when he encounters jun-ho, him shooting him in a non fatal spot and then sending someone to save him, and the moments where he cheered with his team during the games. the happiness on his face was genuine. we've seen him look at himself with utter resentment in the mirror after the moment with jun-ho, and as lee byung hun said— a part of him is rooting for gihun. when he killed the player during mingle, he didn't look like he enjoyed it. i think he looked rather devastated. his eyes were red and glassy when he declared himself dead to gihun. because he kills not for enjoyment, but out of a necessity. every kill of his so far has been what he'd deem necessary. im sure if we could see his face when he killed jungbae, he would simply look indifferent, or the way he did during mingle. i doubt there would be any semblance of happiness or joy on his face. he torments gihun probably because he sees himself in him— the younger, naive inho who thought he could play hero only to end up losing everything. he's bitter and resentful that gihun could get back there and try to save people the second time, voluntarily abandoning his wife and daughter in the process. he simply wants to break gihun's spirit, the way his was.

it's been established through recent interviews that inho didn't join the games as the frontman because he enjoyed it, but rather because he had nowhere else to go. the games became familiar to him, and he couldn't face his mother and brother after everything that happened to him. i also believe he still can't forgive himself for everything that's happened— for losing his wife, and child, and now brother. and this is his own way of punishing himself and isolating himself from the world after losing everything that meant something to him.

with that being said, if there is an actual sadist in the series— it's the recruiter. which is why sometimes it feels like mischaracterization to see the both of them be put in the same league. the recruiter clearly enjoys killing, he has mentioned that he liked the way holding a gun and killing people felt, and how he killed his own father. now that's a heartless, sadistic motherfucker. that's the main difference between the two. inho still has some humanity in him, despite being the villain. even if he doesn't want to. even if it's just for the people he cares about. but the recruiter doesn't. he's toyed with homeless people, played russian roulette and died simply for the love of the game. and that's why the two are not villains in the same lane. and i wish more people recognized the humanity within inho, even if it is barely noticeable.

[currentfandomkick]

Prompt:

Desiree overhears bruce wish for a do-over with his robins.

Said robins end up aged down and only with those memories of when they first were acknowledged as Robin by Bruce. Anything after? Gone.

Now Dick is 8 ready to destroy these people stealing his mom’s nickname for him. Yes he is deranged and feral. Yes he is assaulting Damian the most, as the kid also attacks him. He’s also certain Damian is mew to the states too and annoyed he cant understand the kid.

Jason is 12 and dealing with a Lot of homeless kid truama and whiplash of rich place and who are these other kids and why is the tiniest one trying to kill the second tiniest? Stop that! (Jason, the most responsible somehow) Damian listens to him best without the use of orders. (Only way to get Damian to listen otherwise) and is working on teaching Damian about how the states and Gotham work. Jason is the Great Culture Teacher, and hoarding food stashes and go bags everywhere. Just in case. Yes he has some for everyone and is only a little upset his peer Tim vanished before he could give him his.

Tim is 12 too, realized Batman had Jason Right There and fucked off back home to see what happened timeline wise. He decided to visit his apparent step-mom, Dana, and gets to meet his apparent(?) boyfriends (deal’s choice, just have there be two for Tim’s confusion as ‘i pulled not one but two hot boys? How?) reasons. Tim is Learning what he did in the last 6 years and is questioning how his older self stopped with a semi-regular sleep schedule and.. had no spleen? Dana, can we get that checked for me that mine’s still there and if i keep it? Yay. Oh, this should last a few months? Okay! He can work from home online and have Lucius handle the meetings—why was he made a teen CEO again?

Stephanie? Is the oldest at 15, and is baffled by the whole situation. She goes to see Oracle and handles patrols under Babs’ eye with a confused Cass. Yes Stephanie is mad at Tim and believes he was cheating on her at this time, but knows the Tim she saw was smaller. And this is in the future from her POV. She’s still mad. Also the least likely to cause problems on patrol atm as she’s already trained and threatened to break out Spoiler if he tries to stop her. Her favorites and Damian (he gets killing should be an option, but needs to work on his selection process) and Jason, who Gets being a poor kid. Dick stops attacking her on sight but is a savage and insults her form. He ranks below Tim due to proximity, and the fact this is a Tim before they dated.

Damian? Back maybe 2 years, to the mindset of ‘if i dont kill my predecessor, i am unworthy of my role by Father’s side.’ Problem: he and Dick are fighting (both initiate) and Alfred and Jason (when did his zombie guard get so small?) are the only ones able to separate them successfully. He is not allowed on Patrol, but Brown is as she’s able to run solo otherwise and Father has recruited her using Robin. Father has explicitly forbade attacking her in the manor, cave or otherwise on property, and forbid killing. Brown is the only one besides him questioning this, even if it’s mostly over comms… and he is absolutely working on learning magic to undo this spell and return to his rightful place damnit!

Bruce has Many Regrets about that wish. And hates magic

Meanwhile Danny is trying to work out which wishes of Desiree’s are safe to undo, as apparently her last spree included taking out Joker, who was well overdue for that, and helping a lot of families reunite. He’s not undoing that. But also she did help gorilla grodd take over a city. He. He’s gonna need help, isn’t he?

[arivsxq]

Meddle about chapter 3

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Theme: strangers to lovers, angsty shit

Warnings: smut, hookup, fwb, mdni, maybe slow updates

Word count: 4,6k+

Songs: Meddle about-Chase Atlantic

Heartbeat-Childish Gambino

A/N: Wrote a longer chapter this time as a little apology for the few people who waited so long. Sorry again but I try to upload more regularly this year:)

The next morning, I was running late. Again. I'd hit snooze one too many times, and now I was shoving books into my bag with a granola bar hanging from my mouth, cursing my existence. I barely had time to throw on a hoodie and sneakers before rushing out the door. It was the second day in a row where I looked like a homeless person. If my parents saw me like this they would definitely scream their guts out.

By the time I got to campus, I was already exhausted. The philosophy lecture hall was halfway across campus, and I knew if I stopped for coffee, I'd be even later. So, against my better judgment, I powered through, speed-walking like my life depended on it.

And that's when it happened.

One second, I was focused on not tripping over my own feet. The next, I slammed right into someone, sending both of us stumbling back.

"Oh, shit—"

I barely had time to process before strong hands gripped my arms, steadying me before I could fall flat on my ass.

And of course. Of course.

It was Jungkook.

Because why wouldn't it be?

He looked down at me, eyebrows raised in amusement. "You good?"

I blinked up at him, momentarily thrown off by how close we were. His hoodie was slightly oversized, sleeves covering part of his hands, and his dark hair was tousled like he'd just rolled out of bed. The morning light caught on the two piercings on the corner of his lips, and—

Nope. Absolutely not.

I stepped back quickly, clearing my throat. "Yeah. Fine. Totally great."

He gave me a look, like he didn't quite believe me, but he didn't push it. Instead, he smirked. "Running late?"

I huffed, adjusting my bag. "What gave it away?"

"The fact that you almost knocked me and yourself unconscious."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. You barely moved."

"Strong reflexes." He grinned. "Perks of being me."

I hated that I almost laughed.

Instead, I shook my head, moving past him. "I gotta go."

"Wait."

I paused, reluctantly turning back. "What?"

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, eyes scanning my face like he was debating something. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable yesterday," he said finally.

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?" I said again.

"The coffee thing." He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I wasn't trying to push anything. Just... wanted to talk."

Guilt twisted in my stomach. I let out a slow breath, suddenly feeling very aware of how awkward I'd made everything.

"I know," I admitted. "I just had..." I hesitated. "two cups of coffee"

Jungkook studied me for a second before nodding. "Okay."

That was it. Just okay. No guilt-tripping, no passive-aggressive remarks. Just acceptance. It threw me off more than anything else. Before I could say something else—what, I didn't even know—Jungkook took a step back. "I'll see you in class," he said, and then he walked away, leaving me standing there like an idiot.

"wait-"

He turns around with a questioning look on his face.

"What about later? I-I mean... after the lectures. Only if you have time, we don't need to-"

"yeah, sure" he smiles and disappears after.

Did I just stutter???

***

By the time I slipped into my seat next to Carla, the professor had already started scribbling something on the board. I tried to act casual like I hadn't just made an absolute fool of myself five minutes ago, but Carla's sharp gaze immediately landed on me.

"You're late," she whispered, leaning in.

"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered, pulling out my iPad.

Carla ignored my bad mood, her eyes narrowing. "Why do you look like you just saw a ghost?"

I hesitated for half a second too long, and that was all she needed.

"Oh my god," she gasped, her voice a little too loud. "Is this about Jungkook?"

My entire body stiffened. "No," I lied instantly.

Carla's smirk grew. "So if I turn around right now, he's not gonna be looking at you?"

I refused to take the bait. "I don't care what he's doing."

Carla, being the absolute menace she was, twisted in her seat anyway. I heard her inhale sharply. "Oh. My. God."

I sighed. "Carla—"

"He's staring at you."

I groaned, dropping my forehead onto the desk. "I hate you."

Carla giggled. "Oh, babe, you love me."

I peeked up at her, only to find her grinning like she'd just won the lottery. I knew that look. It meant trouble.

"What did you do?" I whispered harshly.

"Nothing," she said, way too innocently. "I just think it's interesting that you rejected coffee yesterday but suddenly have plans after class today."

I glared at her. "How do you even know that?"

Carla rolled her eyes. "Please. I saw your face when you walked in. You look like someone who just did something completely out of character."

She wasn't wrong.

"Annnnddd I overheard Jungkook telling Namjoon"

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that Carla would never let this go. "Fine. I might have... invited him to hang out."

Carla's jaw dropped. "You invited him? As in, willingly?"

"Would you keep your voice down?" I hissed, glancing around.

Carla's expression turned gleeful. "This is huge."

"It's really not."

"It is." She paused, then gasped. "Oh my god, do you like him?"

I choked. "Absolutely not."

Carla narrowed her eyes. "Liar."

"I literally just met him."

Carla smirked. "And yet, here we are."

I wanted to argue, but the professor shot us a pointed look, forcing Carla to finally shut up. I exhaled in relief and focused on the lecture, but my brain refused to cooperate. I was too aware of the fact that Jungkook was sitting just a few rows away.

And worse? I could feel him looking at me.

***

After class, I practically sprinted out of the lecture hall before Carla could interrogate me further. I had a break before my next class, and Jungkook was nowhere in sight. Maybe he'd forgotten about my invitation. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe—

"Hey."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. Spinning around, I found Jungkook standing there, looking amused.

"Jesus," I muttered, clutching my chest. "You need to stop sneaking up on me."

He raised an eyebrow. "I literally just walked up."

I huffed. "Whatever."

Jungkook chuckled, then nodded toward the campus café. "Still down?"

I hesitated. "For what?"

His lips twitched. "To hang out? You did invite me, remember?"

I internally cringed. "Right. Yeah. Sure."

Jungkook gave me an amused glance but didn't push it. We made our way to the café in comfortable silence, and I tried not to overthink the fact that I was willingly spending time with him.

Inside, we grabbed drinks, him, an iced Americano; me, a caramel latte, and found a spot near the window. I wrapped my hands around my cup, suddenly unsure what to say.

Jungkook beat me to it. "So, what's your deal?"

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

He smirked. "You seem... hard to read."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged. "You act like you don't care, but I don't think that's true."

I stared at him. "That's a bold assumption."

Jungkook sipped his coffee, unfazed. "Am I wrong?"

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Annoyingly, he wasn't. I did care. I just hated admitting it.

Instead, I deflected. "And what about you? What's your deal?"

Jungkook tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

I gestured vaguely. "You just randomly show up at my friends' dinner, stare at me in class, and now you're analyzing my personality like it's a project."

He smirked. "So you did notice me staring."

I groaned "I walked into that one."

Jungkook laughed, a soft, genuine sound that caught me off guard. When I looked up, he was watching me, his expression more serious than before.

"For real, though," he said, voice quieter. "I think you're interesting."

I swallowed. "You don't even know me."

"Not yet," he said simply.

I didn't have a response to that.

Jungkook didn't press me for one. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee like he had all the time in the world. I stared out the window, watching students hurry past, my thoughts a tangled mess.

"I think we would make great friends" he interrupts the silence.

I blinked at him, unsure if I had misheard. "Friends?"

Jungkook nodded, completely unfazed. "Yeah. You know, the normal kind. People who hang out, talk, maybe send each other stupid memes at 2 AM. Friends."

I squinted at him. "Do you usually pursue friendships with people who actively avoid you?"

He chuckled. "You haven't exactly been avoiding me."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he had a point. I could have ignored him and shut down every attempt he made to talk to me, but instead, here I was, sitting across from him, sharing coffee.

I sighed, stirring my drink absentmindedly. "You're persistent, I'll give you that."

"I prefer determined," he said, smirking.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "Fine. Friends."

Jungkook raised his cup like he was toasting. "Friends."

We fell into an easy conversation after that. Turns out, he was surprisingly easy to talk to. He told me about his photography projects, his love for late-night drives, and his weirdly specific obsession with collecting vintage film cameras. In return, I told him about my art major, my stress over exams, and my terrible habit of procrastinating until the last possible second.

"So basically," Jungkook said, resting his chin on his palm, "we're both disasters in different ways."

I snorted. "Yeah, pretty much."

The time passed quicker than I expected. Before I knew it, my break was almost over, and I had to get to my next class. I glanced at the time and groaned. "I gotta go."

Jungkook stretched, standing up. "I'll walk with you."

I hesitated for a second but didn't protest. We stepped out of the café, the campus buzzing with students rushing to their next classes. The air was crisp, the sun casting long shadows across the pavement.

As we walked, Jungkook glanced at me. "So, do I get a contact name in your phone now? Or am I still 'Unknown Number'?"

I huffed a laugh, pulling out my phone. "Fine. But if you send me dumb memes at 2 AM, I'm blocking you."

Jungkook grinned, typing his number into my phone. "Noted."

I saved his contact, glancing at him. "Happy now?"

He grinned wider. "Very."

As we reached the building where my class was, I turned to him. "Guess I'll see you later."

"Yeah," he said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Later."

I walked into the lecture hall, feeling oddly lighter than I had in days. Maybe having Jungkook around wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

***

Who would've thought that four months later, Jungkook would be one of my closest friends? But here we were, sitting in his living room. My legs were stretched out over his, tangled in the most casual way, like we'd been doing this forever. His feet rested on the other end of the L-shaped couch, his laptop perched on his thighs as he absentmindedly scrolled through something.

The room was dimly lit, the only real light coming from the TV, playing some random movie neither of us were paying attention to. A forgotten bag of chips sat between us, and my half-empty iced coffee was precariously balanced on the armrest.

Jungkook suddenly let out a dramatic sigh, closing his laptop with a soft thud. "I'm so over this assignment."

Not even looking up from my phone I respond "You say that about every assignment."

"Because they all suck," he shot back, tossing his laptop onto the floor beside him. "Seriously, who thought writing an essay about 'the emotional depth of visual storytelling' was a good idea?"

"Uh, your professor?"

He gave me a flat look. "I refuse to acknowledge that man's existence."

I laughed, nudging his leg with my foot. "You just need a break. Wanna order food?"

Jungkook perked up instantly. "Now you're speaking my language."

"Pizza?"

"Obviously."

I reached for my phone to make a call but then I see a message from my father.

Father:"Were invited to dinner by the Kim's."

I roll my eyes. My thoughts get interrupted by Jungkook's voice calling me.

"What's with the eye-role?" he tries to tease.

"Just my father. We're invited for dinner by the Kim's" if my annoyed face doesn't tell what I think about the plans my voice definitely does.

"Which Kim's exactly?" Jungkook hesitates.

"Your smart ass friend Namjoon?"

"Oh these Kim's"

Jungkook smirked, leaning back into the couch. "So, what's the problem? Namjoon's cool."

I groaned, throwing my phone onto the coffee table. "Yeah, but his parents are the problem. And also mine but that's not the point. They're like... I don't know, fancy? Pretentious? The kind of people who judge you based on how well you hold a wine glass."

Jungkook chuckled. "So like your family"

"True but shut up"

He shrugged. "I mean, I could come as your emotional support."

I snorted. "Oh, sure. I'd love to see my father's face when I show up with you. That'd go over well."

"Hey, I can be classy." He sat up straighter, clearing his throat before saying in an exaggerated deep voice, "Good evening, Mr. Kim. A pleasure to see you again. The duck confit is simply exquisite."

I burst out laughing. "Oh my God, stop."

Jungkook grinned, clearly pleased with himself. "I'd fit right in."

"Yeah, until you start talking about video games or making fun of Namjoon's philosophy books."

"Fine, fine. But really, is it that bad?"

I sighed, rubbing my temples. "It's just... my dad has this weird thing about the Kim's. Mr. Kim and dad have a long history of business dealings and stuff. Like, they're this perfect family in his eyes, and I always feel like I have to act a certain way around them. You know, be 'proper' and 'respectable' or whatever. It's exhausting."

Jungkook nodded, his playful expression softening a little. "I get that. But hey, if it makes you feel any better, Namjoon's probably suffering through it too."

"He is" I sighed. "I know him since I was 6. This guy doesn't have a great poker face"

"You got this," Jungkook said, bumping his knee against mine. "And if it gets unbearable, just imagine them all in clown wigs. Helps me get through awkward situations."

"That explains a lot"

"Hey"

The rest of the evening passed in comfortable laziness. We ordered pizza, half-watched a movie, and talked about everything and nothing until it was late and I had to drag myself off the couch.

***

The moment I stepped into my walk-in closet at my parent's house, I knew I couldn't just throw on any outfit. My parents took these dinners seriously, and showing up in anything less than polished perfection was practically a crime in their eyes. So, instead of my usual laid-back style, I went for a sleek black dress, nothing too extravagant, but just enough to say, yes, I belong in this ridiculous world of power plays and social niceties. A pair of delicate diamond earrings and designer heels completed the look.

By the time I made it downstairs, my mother gave me an approving glance, my father barely looked up from his watch, and we were ushered into the car.

When we arrived at the Kim estate, a sprawling mansion that made even our home seem modest, I sighed inwardly. The moment we stepped through the grand entrance, Namjoon and his parents greeted us with the usual warmth laced with underlying expectations. My mother was already deep in conversation with Mrs. Kim about some charity gala, while my father and Mr. Kim exchanged firm handshakes and business talk.

And then, just as I was about to zone out, my phone buzzed in my clutch.

Jungkook: "How's the royal banquet?"

I bit back a smile and texted back.

Me: "Currently contemplating my existence between a five-course meal and a conversation about hedge funds."

Jungkook: "Sounds thrilling. You need a rescue?"

Me: "Always"

Jungkook: "I'll send a helicopter"

I rolled my eyes but felt strangely lighter. If nothing else, at least I had Jungkook's sarcasm to get me through the night. The dining room was an opulent display of wealth, all crystal chandeliers, gold-trimmed dinnerware, and a floral centerpiece so large it practically needed its own zip code. I took my designated seat between my mother and Namjoon, the latter offering a polite smile as I settled in. Across from me, his younger sister, Jihye, was already scrolling through her phone beneath the table, clearly just as thrilled to be here as I was.

"So," Mr. Kim started, his deep voice carrying over the soft clinking of silverware, "I hear the expansion in Singapore is progressing well."

My father nodded, always the composed businessman. "Yes, though we had to make some last-minute adjustments to accommodate new regulations. Nothing we can't handle."

I tuned out almost instantly. Business talk at these dinners was as predictable as the perfectly plated gourmet meals in front of us. The first course, a delicate amuse-bouche that looked more like art than food, was placed before me, and I forced myself to take a bite, despite my complete lack of appetite.

I stole a glance at Namjoon, who seemed equally unenthusiastic. Despite his reputation for being a genius, he was, at the core, still just a guy who had been shoved into this world whether he liked it or not.

"How's university treating you?" he asked, voice low enough that it didn't interrupt the ongoing corporate negotiations happening to our left.

"Oh, you know," I sighed, "thriving under capitalism, questioning my existence, the usual."

Namjoon chuckled. "Sounds about right. Jungkook keeping you entertained?"

I nearly choked on my water. I cleared my throat, trying to play it cool. "Why would you assume that?"

Namjoon arched a knowing brow. "Because he's Jungkook. And you're... you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Care to elaborate?"

Before he could, Mrs. Kim turned her attention toward me, her carefully poised smile in place. "Darling, your mother was telling me about your latest art project. How wonderful that you still find time for such creative pursuits."

My lips twitched. "Yes, still clinging to the last remnants of my soul."

My mother shot me a warning look, but Mrs. Kim merely laughed, as if I had said something utterly charming rather than laced with sarcasm.

"Well, creativity is important," she said smoothly, sipping her wine. "Though, of course, I'm sure you're also considering more... practical applications for the future."

There it was. The inevitable nudge toward "real-world" aspirations, the ones that involved boardrooms, mergers, and an existence carefully molded into the expectations of high society.

I didn't get the chance to respond before my phone buzzed in my lap again.

"Uh yeah but I actually want to presume art"

My mother lets out a fake laugh and says "Young people and their imagination. Of course, she has other plans for the future. After all, she is the heir of a million dollar company"

Bitch.

She shoots me one last look before I look at my phone.

Jungkook: "Tell me you've at least been served something edible."

Me: "If by edible, you mean a piece of asparagus decorated like a museum exhibit, then yes."

Jungkook: "Tragic. Need me to smuggle in a burger?"

Me: "Tempting. You'd get past security?"

Jungkook: "For you? I'd find a way."

A warmth spread through my chest, but before I could type a response, my mother's voice cut through my thoughts. "Darling, put your phone away. It's rude during dinner."

I bit back a sigh, slipping my phone back into my clutch and returning to my untouched plate. Across from me, Jihye smirked knowingly, clearly having caught on.

The second course arrived,some kind of seafood dish with a name too long to remember, and the conversation steered toward future prospects. Mr. Kim, ever the strategist, turned to Namjoon with a measured look.

"Have you given more thought to your role in the company after graduation?"

Namjoon's smile was tight. "Of course. Still weighing my options."

"Options?" Mr. Kim repeated, clearly unimpressed. "Your path has always been clear."

I didn't miss the way Namjoon's grip tightened around his fork. I felt a sudden, sharp pang of sympathy. The weight of expectation in a family like this wasn't just heavy, it was suffocating.

"I think Namjoon should have the space to explore his interests," I interjected, drawing attention back to me. "After all, wouldn't you rather have a CEO who actually enjoys his work?"

There was a beat of silence before Mrs. Kim gave a tight-lipped smile. "Of course, dear. But responsibility is a privilege, not a choice."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Right. How could I forget?"

"Y/N!" My father warns me but I could care less.

As the courses continued, so did the thinly veiled expectations, the strategic questions, the careful way my mother kept nudging me to say the right things, to act the part.

By the time dessert arrived, I was more than ready to escape.

Another buzz.

Jungkook: "Still alive?"

Me: "Barely. Might fake an emergency. Thoughts?"

Jungkook: "Dramatic fainting. Classic. I'll give you a 9/10 if you commit to it."

I stifled a laugh, but Namjoon caught it, shaking his head in amusement. "Tell Jungkook he's a bad influence."

"Oh, he already knows."

As coffee was served, my mother turned to me with a pointed look. "We'll be attending the charity gala next weekend. You'll be expected to join...and your manners too."

I sighed internally but nodded. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

She smiled, satisfied, and returned to her conversation.

Jungkook: "What are your plans for next weekend?"

Me: "Apparently, I'm being paraded at a gala."

Jungkook: "Sounds fancy."

Me: "Sounds exhausting."

Jungkook: "I could always crash it."

I hesitated for a split second.

Me: "You wouldn't."

Jungkook: "Oh, baby. Don't challenge me."

I stared at the message, something dangerously close to excitement bubbling under my ribs.

Jungkook at a high-society gala? Now that would be a sight to see. As the evening dragged on, my patience wore thin. Just as I thought I might actually lose my mind listening to another story about market trends, Mr. Kim turned to me.

"Have you given any thought to internships? I know your father has some excellent connections. It would be a wonderful opportunity."

I hesitated. "I have some ideas, but nothing concrete yet."

My father, who had been mostly silent on my personal matters, decided now was the time to weigh in. "She needs to start focusing on more stable prospects. The art thing is fine as a hobby, but—"

There it was. The inevitable dismissal of my interests, as if they were just a passing phase. I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite nod instead of the biting retort I wanted to unleash.

Before I could say anything, Namjoon smoothly interjected, "Actually, Jungkook was telling me about an artist he's been following lately. Some really impressive work."

I shot him a look of gratitude. Namjoon, ever the diplomat, had just steered the conversation away from my impending existential crisis.

Mr. Kim hummed in approval. "Ah, Jungkook. Always an interesting one."

My mother's lips pursed ever so slightly. She wasn't the biggest fan of Jungkook, something about him being too carefree, too unpredictable. The irony, considering how much they admired Namjoon, who happened to be one of Jungkook's closest friends.

As the night wore on, I found myself feeling less suffocated, despite the setting. Maybe it was Namjoon's subtle interventions, or maybe it was knowing that, on the other side of my phone screen, Jungkook was keeping me grounded in my own way.

By the time we finally left the Kim estate, I let out a breath of relief. The car ride home was silent, my parents satisfied with another successful evening of networking but also angry at my behavior.

As soon as I was back in my room, I collapsed onto my bed and checked my phone again.

Jungkook: "You made it out?"

Me: "Against all odds."

Jungkook: "Proud of you. Wanna celebrate your survival with a coffe at my place"

I hesitated for a moment, then smiled.

Me: "Fine. But only if you make breakfast too"

Jungkook: "Why? We can buy something on the campus"

Me:"okay see you in class"

Jungkook:"Ugh fine, I'll make breakfast. Anything for the Chanel princess"

I set my phone down, feeling a little lighter. Maybe these dinners would never be easy, but at least I had people who made them bearable.

***

The next morning, I woke up to the soft ping of my phone, signaling a message from Jungkook.

Jungkook: "I'm up. Suffering. Hope you're happy."

I grinned, stretching lazily before replying.

Me: "Very. Now get to work, chef."

Jungkook: "Bossy. I like it."

Shaking my head, I rolled out of bed and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to his apartment. I had barely knocked when the door swung open, revealing Jungkook in an oversized hoodie, his hair still messily tousled from sleep.

"Morning, Chanel Princess," he greeted, stepping aside to let me in.

"Morning, Michelin-star chef," I smirked, peering over his shoulder. "Where's my gourmet breakfast?"

Jungkook scoffed, leading me into the kitchen where a pan of slightly burnt pancakes sat on the stove. "Listen, I never promised quality."

I raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky I'm too hungry to care."

As I grabbed a plate, he leaned against the counter, watching me with an easy smile. "So, how bad was the aftermath?"

I sighed, stabbing at my pancake. "Silent treatment from my parents. My mother is convinced I'll grow out of my 'art phase' and my dad thinks I need a reality check."

Jungkook frowned. "And by reality check, they mean...?"

"Corporate servitude." I rolled my eyes. "Yay, nepotism."

He snorted. "Yeah, you don't really scream 'corporate drone' to me."

I pointed my fork at him. "Exactly! But try telling them that."

There was a beat of silence before Jungkook said, "You know, you don't actually have to do what they want."

I looked up, meeting his gaze. It was such a simple statement, yet it held so much weight.

"Yeah, well, try convincing them of that."

Jungkook shook his head. "No, I mean it. You're the one who has to live with your choices. Not them."

I swallowed, unsure how to respond. Because as much as I wanted to believe that, the pressure was real. The expectations, the responsibilities, the constant reminder that I had a role to play in this carefully curated world my parents had built.

Jungkook must've sensed my hesitation because he reached across the counter, lightly tapping my wrist. "Hey. You have options. You just have to be brave enough to take them."

I stared at him, something warm blooming in my chest. He always made things sound so simple, so possible.

Before I could overthink it, I sighed dramatically. "It's not that easy."

Jungkook grinned. "Oh come on. If your parents disown you, you can sleep on my couch"

I scoffed. "I think I've suffered enough for your amusement."

He laughed, shaking his head. "Nah, you keep things interesting."

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't fight the smile tugging at my lips. For now, the weight of last night felt a little lighter, and the future was a little less suffocating. At least I had people like Jungkook in my corner.

[noffy96]

Whoo finished another Cygni(ServantSun) / Eclipse story. This time...we talk about Cygni's Moon, how is that gonna go

Moons, Memories and Breakdowns

Chapter 1

Word count: 4,486

Status: complete

Summary:

Feeling like he might be pushing too hard, he decided to just offer some comfort instead.

“ It's alright, want me to bring you so-”

“I remembered my Moon”

Cygni's voice cut through his own, static interference made it hard to make out. But once the words registered he was left stunned.

It had been the last thing he expected to hear.

Or

Cygni has remembered his Moon, But it comes with a whole bunch of complicated feelings. One of which is the uncertainty if this Memory is even real. What will they find as they look at the data of the memory?

Read it on AO3

or read down below

As he approached the bunker door he took out a piece of salmon. Looking around for the grey furry brat. The fact at he had to buy this stuff just to keep that angry furball from clawing his ankles off annoyed him to no end.

He had no idea how Cygni walked past him without any problems. A branch made a crack above him. So before he could be pounced on he threw the thin piece of meat up. It was suddenly snatched out of mid-air.

With a great thud, the cat landed. Hissing at him before taking off. He tracked its movement until he saw the cat carefully start eating his new treat a couple of trees down.

Good at least the menace ate what was brought to him.

He stepped in with a heavy sigh. Glad to be fucking home. He had nothing to show for his efforts today. Seems that Moon had figured out someone had been stealing from his other lab and shut it down. Well, at least he had no clue where they were still.

He had no desire to become homeless, he had been setting money aside for when the time eventually came. He had started with nothing. As far as he was concerned Moon owned him and if he didn't notice, he didn't miss it.

He walked through the concrete hallways, past the sleeping chambers towards their ‘living room’. It had initially been just a communal space. A kitchen, a large table with some chairs on one side. On the other a comfy couch, with a bookshelf, a coffee table and a small TV.

With Cygni the room had changed somewhat. There were now a couple of comfortable rugs. A vase on the dinner table. Some little bits and bots from projects Cygni and him had done together over the last couple of months.

Some people might call it sparse but it has become a home. He was about to greet his friend only to pause in the doorway.

Cygni was sitting at the dinner table. Several pieces of colourful glass scattered all around him. Glasswork had been the newest hobby his friend wanted to try his hand at.

But Cygni sat very still. Arms resting on the table, head tilted down, the glow of his eyes dim in the dark room. The only sound is the drip of the faucet

“Cygni?”

The other bot didn't react. For a second he wondered if Cygni had forgotten to charge and had run out of battery. Before shaking that thought away.

He slowly made his way towards him. Growing more worried as no movement came. When he was about halfway. The dark streaks on his friend's face became obvious and he rushed over. Wondering what the fuck made his best friend cry

“Cygni? What's going on?”

Cygni still didn't turn to him. His eyes were unmoving as he silently cried. There were tiny pools of oil on the table. He must have been crying for a while.

Careful as to hopefully not startle his friend, he gently placed his hand on Cygni’s wrist.

There was a blink…then two. Soft gentle metallic clicks with the dripping sounds of tears.

His fingers gently encircled the wrist. Feeling some paint flake off in the process. Seems that Cygni had been peeling at his paint again.

The yellow rings of his friend's eyes snapped up. Resting on their hands. There was a burst of static coming from his voice box. The sound of it resetting before shakingly, half broken.

“Clipse? “

Careful of the claws that wanted to come out and protect his friend from whatever had made him so upset, he tightened his hold.

“Right here.”

He tugged the hand of the table. Grabbing one of the other chairs with his other hand. Bringing it closer with a loud screech against the floor so he could sit facing his friends as he rested their hands on his knee.

Cygni half turned. Gaze following their hands. His friend's hands twitched against the fabric before holding onto it tightly.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

He asked as softly as he could. Still trying to keep the worry and anger out of his voice. It had been a long while since he saw Cygni this upset. He had learned very quickly that being angry could cause his friend to spiral faster.

It was always hard, fighting against every instinct he had to stay calm in moments like this. But Cygni needed him. He couldn't help if he didn't know.

There was a tiny shake of the head. He saw the furrow in Cygni's brow grow as his black tears hit his pants. The black splotches seeped into the fabric. His chest thumped at the cute reaction before snarling at it internally as this was not the time. Reaching his other hand out to gently, so fucking gently as he could. Take hold of his friend's face so he’d face him instead of down.

“That's good…glad you are not hurt…Do you think you could tell me what upset you so much?”

Cygni’s eyes landed on his, then his frame started to tremble. He wanted to drag the other out of his chair and into a hug. But he didn't dare. As likely he had a flashback to his lord, so he could potentially make it worse by making any sudden movements.

There were some bursts of static as Cygni squeezed his eyes shut. He encouragingly stroked his finger on the inside of his wrist. Willing to sit here as long as needed. Fully aware that Cygni was likely not able to tell him what was wrong. Not while being clearly so tortured by whatever memory had come for him.

But it added a tally mark to the list of things he was gonna do to his friend's former lord if he ever saw him.

He would suffer for all the pain he made Cygni go through.

“I…I…”

More tears left Cygni’s eyes. He dropped his hand from his faceplate to his shoulder to softly squeeze. His own hatred broke away in the face of his best friend's sorrow. Cygni leaned into the touch almost desperately.

Feeling like he might be pushing too hard, he decided to just offer some comfort instead.

“ It's alright, want me to bring you so-”

“I remembered my Moon”

Cygni's voice cut through his own, static interference made it hard to make out. But once the words registered he was left stunned.

It had been the last thing he expected to hear.

Cygni opened his eyes again, more tears spilling out. Rays shaking in their housings.

“I mean…I knew he must have existed ... but seeing him…knowing there was someone…it’s such a difference Eclipse. I just recognised him, but…but I know nothing about him. There is part of me that’s scared that it isn’t real…that this isn’t…my Moon. It could be a different Moon. But...how would I know…I just”

Cygni's voice broke down further and further until it shut down again. His free hand pressed against his mouth as he tried to keep silent. He let go of Cygni’s hand to gently rub his friend's arms up and down. Trying to find some words to calm him.

“I…am..not sure how to…” He trailed off before changing the question “…what is it exactly that you are remembering, could you tell me?”

Cygni nodded his head, clearly forcing his tears to slow as he lowered his hand.

“It’s just…just an image…of him smiling at me. A single picture. But I hadn’t had something this clear of him…ever…I was just…just picking up some pieces of glass thinking about the colour seemed familiar…and “

He waved his arm around a little, and he squeezed his friend's arms gently in understanding.

“I...I can look at the data for the picture for you. See when it was taken…if it’s about as old as your oldest memories…I think we can safely say it’s your Moon”

Cygni's eyes widened further.

“You would do that for me? Really?”

He gave a nod, and suddenly he was tackled in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…please…yes...I just...I gotta know”

The chair had wobbled dangerously under the force of the tackle and he managed to keep them both upright, as he kinda awkwardly petted Cygni’s back at the same time.

Cygni pulled back and from his eyes, he could tell that he was opening his email to send the file, but then his smile turned into a frown.

“It says I can’t send the file…that it doesn’t support the file type?”

He gave a confused look in return.

“We have that shared Dropbox…can you put it in there?”

Cygni sat still for a moment before shaking his head, as tears started to flow again.

“Hey...hey no...it’s okay…don’t panic…I could…I could connect to you directly…and look at it that way…You’ll…you’ll just have to guide me to the file, I promise not to look at anything else.“

“Pinky promise”

He tried his best not to snort and held out his hand pinky outstretched.

“Yeah pinky promise”

His mechanical heart skipped a beat as Cygni shakinly connected it with his own.

“O-okay…I trust you…”

He gave what was hopefully a comforting gentle pass over Cygni’s rays.

“Go sit on the couch and get comfortable, I’ll find a cable in my lab for us to connect with.”

Cygni nodded and stood up shakingly, he watched him for a second, making sure he was doing okay before turning around and going to his lab.

When he returned Cygni was sitting in the corner of the couch, Fingers picking at the paint of his arms, the tears had slowed down, but still, an occasional drop left his eyes, rolling down the paths made by the previous tears. His sleeve had a few dark stains that he must have gotten by wiping at his eyes.

He thought about doing the laundry later so Cygni wouldn’t have to deal with the stains, and take that off his mind when they were done as he carefully sat down next to him.

“You sure you okay with this?”

Cygni let out a hum as he nodded. He was about to ask if he was sure When Cygni squared his shoulders and looked him dead in the eye

“I have to know S-Eclipse”

His friend's eyes widened at the almost slip-up, but he didn’t mention it.

“Could you open your arm panel?”

The other hesitated for a small moment before rolling up his left sleeve, He tried to keep from reacting to see that the peeled paint was up to his elbows.

“I…had locked my arms to the table…before you came in…I…I think I might have scratched the casing with my claws…I…been sitting here a while…”

He gently took hold of his best friend's wrist again bringing the arm over to his lap, gently tracing the metal with his other hand, not minding the flaked paint.

“I’ve told you before…you don’t need to justify your soothing methods. Sun still pulls at his rays, and trust me, it is grounding yet hurtful…I tend to want to fight stuff, which is honestly much worse. “

There was a soft chuckle.

“That’s not true…”

He raised an eyebrow at his friend, who despite the tears still running down his face smiled gently.

“You don’t fight when you're anxious…scared…sure..but anxious? You tend to cross your arms and tap your claws at your upper arms…like... You are reminding yourself where they are? But also like you’re hugging yourself, but aren’t if that makes sense”

His heart thumped with the realisation that his friend was right, glow coming on with a click. Cygni’s soft smile turned into a nervous one, glow clicking on as well.

“I…what I meant to say…um not that I think…”

When he fought to get his glow back under control, Cygni kept on starting and stopping sentences. He let out a coughing sound that made the other's mouth click shut.

“Let’s just…get us connected”

He finished gruffly, and there was an awkward laugh coming from his friend, as the panel in his arm opened up. He carefully plugged in the cable and pretended not to notice the slight quiver in his friend's breath. Only stopping once the cable was above his own port, glancing up to meet Cygni’s nervous eyes.

The tears had slowed down, but still, an occasional drop landed on Cygni’s brown pants. The whole time the tears had been silent, not a sob or a heave. He never knew how to feel about the fact that he cried so silently.

He got a determined nod and plugged the other end into his arm. He closed his eyes to focus, sending a request to access Cygni’s systems. He wasn’t gonna go into his head, as much as he loved him, he wasn’t risking getting trapped. This was just a bit more direct than plugging into a computer…and like this…no fear of anyone spying.

The acceptance came through, his vision filling with lines of code and folders as far as he could see. That had always been a thing, there seemed to be a lot more stored in Cygni’s mind than should be possible for their memory.

He wondered if it was because he had gained sentience and it saved differently, or it was the amount of star power that just ... had warped how memory chips should work. But the thing was…Cygni couldn’t seem to access most of it…not perceive it in the same way.

It is like seeing an icon on your desktop but the second you hover your mouse over it, it disappears. Like privileges suddenly revoked or held back. He followed a familiar tug scrolling through files, until somewhere in the middle they stopped .

He hovered over the file, selecting it but not opening it. There was a soft chirp coming from the body next to him. Seeing code change from the corner of his eye as the emotions fell over his friend, but he didn’t look, not trying to invade his privacy more than he was.

“This one?”

It was silent for a while before he gave a sigh.

“I need you to speak up…can’t see if you nodded or not…I am concentrating on not accidentally looking at more than I should. “

“Yeah…it’s the correct one”

“Thanks”

With that he got to work, opening the files’ properties.

The file type was not something he ever had come across…he wondered if it was because it was old, or maybe because of the change of dimensions. But it was not what he should be looking for.

Quickly looking for the creation date...He frowned, the string of numbers was just reading as all zeros, which meant either the day wasn’t set…or…couldn’t be read.

But then He noticed the file name ....Likely not something Cygni had done…as the image must have appeared opened in his mind.

It said Copy of HSM 0812-16121973

………Copy…….

… This image was a copy…

But a copy from where?

He looked through the metadata of the file again but it could tell him nothing more. Not on its own….he would need to compare it to something.

“Cygni…”

His voice must have sounded off because he could feel the way the mood sank.

“I-it’s…it’s not him right?”

It sounded so broken…but he didn’t wanna lie. His hand went to search and interlock with Cygni’s as he tried to give comfort.

“...the image is a copy…that’s all I know…but I don’t know from when…Do…do you have any other images from when you were in your old dimension? Once you are sure you took and not a copy…and maybe one you took here as well. I might get some more information out of your name filing system.”

He felt the hand in his own tighten,

“I…I do…but…but i really….they are not…..I don’t want you to-”

He quickly cut off his friend to reassure him.

“I don’t have to open them to see the data ... .i haven’t opened the one of your Moon either. “

“....you…haven’t?”

He shook his head lightly, to be honest, it was partly because he would likely get jealous at seeing a Moon smile at Cygni. Especially one filled with love…no matter what kind it was.

“You can watch me the entire time…even look through what I am seeing to make sure…the feedback on that will feel weird…but you’d be sure…we can test with the picture you took here…so you know how it will work”

He felt Cygni shift on the couch.

“Yes…yes please…i’d…yes”

He nodded slightly and then slowly worked his friend through how to watch along with what he was doing so that he could see what he saw and did, it was a bit disorientating for the both of them. But they managed and he was able to look at the other two files. Luckily neither of them where corrupted and the date seemed to be intact on both of them.

He compared the names as he opened all three tabs.

HSM 0812-16121973 for the Moon one.

PNG1607-30012025 for the current picture.

Lastly, the picture of Cygni’s home dimension was named. PNG 0812-1512422.

The first thing he could tell was that the numbers at the beginning of the photos taken in the same dimension were the same. Like some dimensional code had attached themselves to the data. Also, he hadn’t ever heard of the file type HSM no wonder neither of them could send them. He was curious how Cygni was able to open them

The other numbers….they looked like dates. As he checked it seemed the file name seemed to match up with the creation date in the metadata. But…if that was true.

“I think…I found something”

“....I…I am not gonna like this….am I?”

He shifted his hands to take a firmer hold of his friends.

“Good news or bad news first?”

“Good…please…I can..use some good”

“If I am reading the date right…this is one of the oldest files you have shown me….so this is likely your Moon”

Through the files and code on his HUD he saw Cygni slump relieved, tears now more of relief than sadness running down his face.

“That’s…oh that’s..thank you … but then…what’s the bad news”

He frowned as he gently backed out of his friend's systems so he could look at him fully.

“The date on it…is about two hundred years older than the oldest file I find when we do a scan for your check-ups”

Cygni’s eyes widened.

“T-two…two hundred…”

He watched the dawning realisation come over his friend's face…everything else in the data had been the same… besides the file being a copy and file type. Everything had told him, it was a picture that Cygni had taken…

His friend's shaking got worse as more tears fell from his eyes

“I…I knew…he had deleted some memories...I have gaps of months that are just gone…and I know there's should have been more of before I was made his servant…but…so.long”

He gently rubbed the inside of his best friend's wrist. Trying to be soothing, as he took the cable out of their arms.

“Was this image just missed because it is a copy? Is this…is this all I have of him? I don't even know what we were. Friends? Brothers? More than that? Did my Moon even like me?.”

The drawing horror was painful to see. His heart clenched and longed to do something to make it right...to reassure. But there was nothing. He couldn't restore deleted memories. Not without something like the star. Even then it might not work

Cygni had let go of his hand to press it against his teeth. His own hand now fluttered around unsure of what to do. It seemed Cygni had temporarily forgotten he was even there.

Then an odd sort of breath left his friend and the hand pressed against his mouth even harder. Realising what he was doing he gently wrapped his hands around Cygni's forearms. The silently crying bot began to shake more as he tried to encourage them back down.

“Hey…hey don't do that…don't force yourself to be quiet. Don't let that lord steal the full extent of your grief. He won't hear you here.”

The fact that Cygni still had oil left over to cry with was a surprise. Those grief-stricken optics met his own..the off-white was now almost grey from the black oil.

Slowly he held out his arms

“Want a hug, Dusty?”

There was no answer. One second he was being stared at with a crushing sadness yet hope. The other thin arms were clutching at his back desperately as Cygni's head plate was painfully shoved into his shoulder

He closed his own arms around his back quickly. Holding him tightly but firmly. As if he could hold the broken pieces of his best friend together.

Cygni's voice was broken and static-filled. He tilted his faceplate against the side of his friends gently..letting their rays rub together in something that was hopefully soothing. As Cygni started to speak through an increasingly glitching voice box.

“What did We do to him to deserve this? Why did he take everything?… Am I even still the same person? Would my Moon even recognise me if he was still around? Did my lord kill him? Torture him. Had me turned off and stored away and tortured him for years, before moving on to me? ”

He had no answers to any of those questions. He knew what he would have done if he got the star. He would have killed Moon, for everything he had been put through. Would he have reset Sun and kept him around as well? There is a part of him that screams NO.

Yet he wasn't sure, his hatred at the time had been more a blind rage. Not willing to look at it too closely. That version of himself would have torn his own head off before willingly spending any sort of time with Sun and Moon.

Let alone save a different Sun.

But Cygni’s endless words didn't stop. Like a dam was broken. More worries and fears seemed to spill out of the trembling bot

“He is gonna do it again if he finds me…he is gonna make me forget you…and Sun. All of this, the time we spend together. The progress I’ve made…Until I am nothing more than a servant once more and he will be the only thing in my life. He’ll take away everything... I am so scared of that Eclipse. I don't wanna lose you…I don't want to forget.“

The hands around his back had started to cling to his skyhook desperately. Their casings creaked dangerously with how tight he was holding him back.

“I won't let him get to you. Never fucking again you hear me. I’ll keep you safe. And if by some method he does manage to make you forget. I will fight tooth and fucking nail to make you remember. If you can't I am gonna befriend you all fucking over again. You hear me. You will never be alone again. Not on my watch”

There was a tiny shake of the head.

“.. don't….don't risk yourself…for someone that can't remember you. Please don't get hurt. “

He growled

“Sorry…I can't promise that. Knowing what he does to you. I can't stand by idly. Would you?”

There was another shake of the head. As gently as he could he nuzzled against the stiff rays of the crying sun model.

There was a soft sob. Barely there so he pressed a little closer. Let Cygni further hide against him.

“Then that is that. We fight together to keep it from happening then okay. You're NOT alone anymore. “

Another sob spilled from Cygni quiet and broken. Then another. And another. Like drops from an ancient faucet slowly dripping out.

“It's okay. I Have you… let it all out”

And Cygni did. Slowly. Starting from quiet barely there sobs and whimpers. To shaky breaths and clinging hands. To harsh breaths and ugly sobs, At the end of it all, he was downright wailing against his chest.

Broken in a way he never heard anyone cry. Barely holding on. Just lost in a grief built on so many hundreds of years. Where he had been holding back the full force of his fears and sorrows. Finally spilling out in this ugly devastating cry. Now that he was finally free and safe to do so.

He held him through it all. Kept whispering promises. Reassures, declarations of how proud he was. That he was loved. By him, his friends And if he would still be alive, his Moon.

His own heart throbbed painfully with every sob. Yet something he would come to look at more closely later. So grateful that Cygni trusted him to keep him safe, trusted him to see him like this, breaking in a way that no one else likely had.

Eventually, the voice box stopped as it clicked on to safe mode from overheating. Cygni’s oil reserve finally ran out. But he still shuddered and cried. Frame squeaking with the lack of oil.

Until hours later, hands fell from his hook. Body slumping exhausted against him.

He pulled back, looking into dim, tired eyes that stared at him exhausted. Scared yet grateful. He let his fingers run over the tips of the rays poking out of his faceplate. Not caring about the few tears that had escaped his own eyes during all of this

Then without thinking, he places a tender kiss against his forehead. Not even fuelled by his crush. Just the aching need to give comfort. Something he would have liked when he had been so alone and trapped.

“Rest, Dusty. I got you”

His eyelids fluttered, and his heart skipped a beat at the gentle smile he got in return. Cygni’s voice box clicked on but it was a little raspy from overuse, set to its lowest volume.

But he could still hear.

“I’m glad you are my best friend Eclipse…love you”

His hands tighten as Cygni's eyes fall shut

“Yeah…love you too”

The smile he got was warm before Cygni passed out.

“So much more than You realise…”

[distilled-prose]

You're forgetting the misconception about Democrats. Not all Democrats are "Leftists". Not all Democrats are against guns. That said; there is a slight difference in a semi-automatic rifle and an AR-15. Yes, I know the AR doesn't stand for "Assault Rifle". The difference is in the looks of a rifle and the use of the rifle. As many has said, I can use my AR-15 to hunt. Yes, you can but, why would you want to use that to hunt deer? I've got a 308 semi to hunt deer but I use my AR-15 to hunt coyotes and pigs. The purpose is to annihilate a species that is invading a territory and causing harm to the environment. Oh! There ya go! A mentally deranged person would do that at a school or a mall with an AR-15 because.....they're fucking deranged and they don't deserve to own that weapon because they have a history of mental problems and they had a friend buy that gun for them or they lied about they're history or whatever. Special permit to own that gun and extended background checks paid for by the the person buying the gun and, red flag laws upheld by Law Enforcement. Period.

Dear Anonymous, Like the question I recently just answered, a couple of things: Thank you for being polite. I wish I knew what prompted the comment/question. That said, you know the second amendment wasn't enacted to protect hunters rights, correct? And just for the record, I am not a hunter. I found early in my life I did not like killing things. But I enjoy target shooting. And I enjoy a variety of weapons in that endeavor. I also know from personal experience that not all democrats are anti-gun. I had a meeting with my attorney several years ago about my wife's and my will. He was a state representative (Democrat) who was wanting to run for a recently vacated senate seat. The discussion turned to that nomination process. He said his position on guns would be a big stumbling block for him in getting the Democratic party's support. (We lived in a rural community.) He did ultimately get the support and won the senate seat. But by his own acknowledgement, the Democratic party did not like it.

My son was a sheriff's deputy for 10 years, and he would quote statistics to me all the time. The majority of mass shootings are committed with hand guns, not long guns, and certainly not by AR style long guns. You are more likely to get killed by a driver misusing a cell phone while driving than to die in a mass shooting. In fact, (I think I am remembering this correctly) a person is more likely to die by a teenager misusing a cellphone while driving than to die in a mass shooting. He also pointed out that Great Britain has a similar number of violent deaths per capita as we do (excluding deaths in this country due to self defense). But in England it's with knives. And now you need a permit to buy almost any kind of knife in England. And look up the statistics of people having acid thrown on them in England. It's crazy. Lastly, I am the second oldest person I know of on Tumblr. As a grade schooler I would hear my parents, their friends, their neighbors, talk about the horrors surrounding and leading up to WWII. Not just the German persecution of Jews, but the Stalinist purges, the atrocities committed by various governments against their own people. Our neighborhood back then had a number of families supporting displaced persons. One neighbor in particular used to tell my grandmother whenever he saw the Texaco big red star it absolutely infuriated him. He just wanted to climb up the pole and tear it down. He lost his whole family in Russia. They were defenseless in one of the purges. Your conclusion regarding the mental heath crisis in this country I believe is correct. Not only the crazy mass shootings, but the homelessness problem, the out of control drug use, etc. all point to a lack of support for people who are struggling. I would offer, however, that your proposed solution will not correct the problem, merely shift it (as in England). Solving the problem at its core is essential. Thank you for the comment.

[telesilla]

A long time ago, younglings, in a galaxy that’s um…right here actually, the only way to see a movie was in the theater or maybe if it was old enough and popular enough (like Wizard of Oz) on tv once a year. And so if a movie was popular, it would have a second theater run about a year after the first and sometimes, if it was super popular, there might be a third run.

In May of 1977, I lived in Tehran, where Star Wars did in fact, air in a couple of theaters. I actually babysat for a couple as they went to see it, but sadly for them, it was dubbed, not subbed. Big disappointment because Dad and I really wanted to see it. Then there was a whole ass revolution, and we left Iran in late 1978. There was a 5 month period of deliberate homelessness that involved couch surfing with relatives and camping before we finally settled back in our house in Santa Barbara, just in time for Star Wars to make its 1979 return to the theaters. By this time, I pretty much knew the whole story; my younger cousin was a fan and so I’d played with him and his many Star Wars toys, but still had never seen the movie. The thing was my little sister wanted to see it too, but she was only 8 and my folks were worried about how it might be too violent for her.

So I first saw Star Wars at the age of 16 (almost) with my dad at the early matinee on a Saturday morning in a theater full of screaming hyped up 10 year olds in 1979. My second time seeing it was about 6 hours later at the early evening show. I went to see it at least six or seven times that June before it left the theaters. It was a process, I had to change buses and everything. The idea that as an adult I’d be able to just sit here in bed and watch it on a small screen I can carry in one hand didn’t really occur to me, but hey, here we are.

Happy Star Wars Day! May the Force be with you!

[capturingmyexperience]

Honesty hidden behind a screen

isn't it great that you can post on the web being vulnerable but be completely unknown to the readers etc ive been wanting to find that space were I can completely let my thoughts out without people known who I am.

I feel like a fraud saying I'm neurodivergent as I'm not officially diagnosed by professionals yet so I can't confidently say yes. but the other side of me is like I know myself better than anyone and I don't need a professional to tell me lol. its why I paid private for both my children so they can grow and fully understand themselves and how we process the world.

so one thing I struggle with is working full time and being parent at the same time it took me years of finding excuses ,on cutting my hrs at work, but now I face facts and openly say I struggle working full-time and its not just because I have kids, its hard managing yourself and being here for youre kids so my kids come first and I will be there every wakening second to help them regulate to give them a safe space and so on.

but that comes with the burden of finical loss. we are know faced with yet again having to look for a new home as the landlord is selling, this is not an ideal situation and I know I cannot face another private rental and uncertainty. So plan b is council house, which is on its knees but we don't have any other choice at this moment in time other than go homeless to have security from the upheaval. Another blow of how I'm failing in the world in some peoples eyes, well you should work work work buying a house is priority, no being here for my kids is priority but the way I do things isn't the normal in society. Anyway no reason in this post really other than getting it out of my brain and into space somewhere lol. staying positive is key in hard times even tho youre crying inside.

and I know my posts are long and I struggle to read others longs posts lol but hey ho.

[yourneighborhoodneighbor]

black cat and his kittens ch10

(masterpost to my fics while ao3 is down) AO3

fic under the cut

previous chapter

The rest of their morning with class 1A had gone decently well. The class had had the decency to mostly hold off on too insensitive questions and had quickly left the whole quirks thing alone, though the copycat guy retained a slight pout at not having guessed a single one. They´d, barr Izu, then played hide and seek, and then a couple rounds of sardine because Shouto liked that one. Pizza had been baked from scratch (and wasn´t it funny as fuck to see everyone´s faces upon realizing Katsuki was a great cook?) and then Katsuki and his family had left for an afternoon nap. Sunday afternoons were for sleeping and homework, after all.

It was now the next friday and Katsuki was taking his shift at the cafe with Masaru, a nice quirkless man who legally only worked at their cafe, and illegally made gear, uniforms and support items for vigilantes, which was how they'd met in the first place. The man was nice and at this point a close and trusted friend of the family, him having been homeless and barely getting by with his gear for vigilantes when dad had first met him, which was how he'd ended up working at the cafe and living a couple blocks over.

“Say, Masaru, what do you think of us apparently going to hang out with the UA class every weekend now?” Katsuki asked the man as he added cut up chunks of cold butter to the dry ingredientes of his soon-to-be-dough for almond cookies.

The serene man looked up from where he was making a hot chocolate for a customer and hummed.

“Well, what is the reason you're going to be hanging out with them?” he threw back after some deliberation. He knew Katsuki wasn't just asking for his opinion, he had some problem he needed help resolving.

Katsuki squeezed the forming dough between his fingers, seemingly making a mess, before regrouping the whole thing and doing it again.

“Dad… the other day, when Izu got hurt” a hard squeeze at the dough “we went to UA right? And some of the others, the hero course kids, they saw dad. So apparently Chizome texted him, and Nedzu, because nothing happens at the school without the overlord knowing, and asked what the fuck they'd do now.”

He stopped for a second, continuing with his squeeze-regroup process while Masaru called the hot chocolate to be picked up. Masaru came back and nodded at the teenager to continue.

“Apparently, that was the first time in seven fucking years first years have seen any of the `UA vigilantes´, so there wasn't a fucking protocol on how to proceed, not to mention the fact that we were there. I mean, did they tell the students? Ignore the situation entirely? Move dad´s class to first year instead of third? All kinds of fucking hazards and shit, so they had to think about it. And Nedzu, he says `Oh Shouta, why don't your children befriend the students?´” for this part he put on a high pitched voice, making Masau smile slightly.

“Like that's some fucking idea, and of course dad says yes, after thinking about it, mind you, man´s not an idiot, because outside of Eijiro -shut up, not talking about that- we don't really have any friends our age, because...” he gestured vaguely and paused his ranting, turning to get wax paper and make four packets of the dough, putting them in the fridge to rest.

He turned back around and sighed, resting against the counter, arms crossed.

“I´m not saying they are bad, or that it's a bad idea right off the bat, it's just…” he tilted his head, hesitating.

“You're worried they will be like others and hurt you and your brothers?” Masaru gently offered after it seemed like Katsuki wouldn't say anymore.

The teen in front of him furrowed his brow, clenching his fists, before turning around and getting a rag and some spray to clean the counter.

“Any of us could beat any of them, heck, all of them, in a fight,” he wiped particularly hard at a specific spot, going silent again.

“But it's not physical harm that you're really afraid of, is it” the adult nudged on again.

“I just- there's this guy, Tensei´s little brother? I'm not sure he wouldn't… do something. I don't like the way he looks at us. And the class respects him,” the class follows him, goes unsaid, if he were to turn against us, would they?, “and Izu is pretty nervous, and while none of them sideyed him or Toshi yet, who's to say they won't? And I know people tend to be intimidated by me, heck, half of it is on purpose, but that's just more reason to attack, you know. Could even call it self defense or something.”

“And I don't want that! I can't let any of them get hurt! Izuku is already so nervous, and I won't let anything happen to them! I won't!” His last exclamation was punctuated by a fist hitting his own head and then pulling on his hair.

Masaru acted immediately, approaching Katsuki with his hands up in a placating manner and softly but firmly taking both of his wrists in his hands, and away from further harm to himself. Once he'd gotten both the teen´s hands down by his sides, he gave a gentle squeeze as an indication to keep them there, then let go, stopping the short contact that had been agreed upon before for situations like this one. He took half a step back to give the other space but still be close by, and slowly opened his arms, in invitation, this time.

After only some brief deliberation, the red-eyed teen accepted and walked into the hug, shaking and breathing heavily.

“Who do you want me to call?” Masaru whispered after a while. He was grateful, once again, that the usual patrons of the cafe knew that sometimes, even during open hours, service was not offered. And those who didn't know quickly learned. So he wasn't worried about attending to anyone other than Katsuki right now.

“Up” was the only word said teen managed to get out. Masaru nodded, walking the blond upstairs, to his home and the rest of his family.

_________________________________________________

It had taken a while for Tenko to calm his younger brother down, but after much cuddling, running his fingers through blond hair and a conversation to help settle the younger teen, it had been managed.

Tenko had brought it up with dad after he had come back from his friday class with the UA third years, leaving Katsuki with Izuku to cuddle on the couch, while Shouto and Hitoshi were still out for their turn at their weekly therapy, the the other older siblings accompanying them (and also, Shouta suspected, taking the opportunity to buy ice cream for everyone while unsupervised).

He had gone back out to get all he needed to make spicy ramen for dinner, something he knew Katsuki really liked, and had just finished cooking when the rest of his children had come back, waking the two sleeping teens on the couch with their loud talking and laughter. Now, they were all seated around the table, talking about how the day had been. Shouta waited for a lull in the conversation to talk about going back to UA the next day.

In the end, after some talking about worries and making plans in case anything happened (and lots of cat-pile cuddles, because none of his children had any restraint-), his younger children were appeased enough to go to sleep more calm than they had been before, ready to face the next day and whatever the class 1-A could throw at them.

_________________________________________________

TBC

[ultimatebottom69]

Soooo.

*crack knuckles in french*

Basically, when yous tarted being fine with people casually being homophobic. It did not concern you so who cared right ?

You were fine with rascism and repeated genocide attempts on the native american tribes.

Your country has been WIDELY known to shoot people who are black of skintone. And being very very discriminatory when one is not european white looking.

Your police force is known to shoot first, act second only when coursing a criminal or legitimately someone who was sleeping in their car minding their own business (9.5/10) with a kid inside lol.

You are known to have school shooters killing 5-12 year olds almost every month or week and these shooters get treated with more respect then the two groups i just listed.

Despite owning guns you all are not known to use them at the right moment nor in a smart manner.

Your country is known to have more food artificial things then actual natural products. By that i mean you have wayyy too much chemicals so badly that you people think peanut butter and jelly is a good sandwich. Or a lunchable ?

Your country is known to have a slae day where people can fucking die. Or get disabled.

Your country is known to make you pay to get treated so good a millionaire could help up homeless after 7 life changing procedures. A fucking surgeon is not guaranteed to not be homeless.

Van life. All of it.

Your privacy terms and rights of images that are frankly just barbaric when you really look at it. You all are so used to being spied on you started to joke about it.

And to go back to your police force you all can see them shooting someone down like a fucking dog but it took one of them to choke George Floyd with their knee for you all to underatand they were violent fucks. 10/10.

The whole election process. All of it.

You know you are one of the only countries to make your children sing the pledge of allegiance every fucking day ? In france I barely know the marseillaise. We don't do that shit.

The way you treat your employees has only ever been beaten by Japan. Which is a bad look.

You are known to be the country who funds the most scams and kinda are responsible for almost every economic crash market. Of the 20th and 21th century i am sure there is more.

And you are also known for hating Russia and yet quite litterally have your leaders "Hi trump" to suck that fascist love murder and coup d'etat dick.

The fact any of you believe pacifist protest ever worked.

I am stopping now but i could go on.

This is D-day. Americans raiding Normandy...

Together we fought against the Nazis

But, nowadays, our own republicans are ok with Nazis

Somebody tell me, where did we go wrong?

When did we become the nazis?

[sobasluuurp]

Hawks' reaction to seeing Twice again is so fascinatingly tragic. Because it shows just how deep the Hero Commission has their claws in his brain.

We know from his interactions with Nagant that he's got the heart of an idealist.  That he still has hope for a better future and sees the best in his disgraced and villainized predecessor.

He even uses the phrase "optimist to a fault" to describe himself. Which is such a strange thing for one of the most morally grey heroes in the series to say. So what does he mean by this and what can it tell us about his character, his circumstances, and human nature?

Like Nagant, Hawks was scooped up by the HC at a young age with promises of heroism and grandeur. Like Nagant, he was subjected to intense training and forced into the role of an assassin for the rest of his childhood with likely little to no contact to the outside world, which might've made him question the HC.

The HC saved Hawks. Saved him from a life of abuse, neglect, and homelessness. So he took his lessons in stride and played his role well. By the time he realized what was up, he was in far too deep to back out and he knew it. But he also knew that he and his mother were in an undeniably better place than they were before the HC stepped in. Knew that because of them, he had the opportunity to save scared little kids, just like Endeavor did for him.

(This is very different from Nagant, who looks to have been feared for her quirk as a child. In the scene when the HC picks her up, she has bandages on her arm as if to keep her quirk from activating. At the time, she probably saw the HC as a savior from her life as nothing more than her quirk -- only to find later that by following that's exactly the life she was binding herself to. Which explains why she defected and he didn't.)

So to Hawks, the HC is a sick but ultimately good force in society. Because he believes in heroes above all else. Endeavor, his savior, was a hero. His father, his abuser, was a villain. Even knowing now that both Endeavor and the HC are tainted, the lessons that idealizing both of them taught him remain.

Even when his heart is telling him to go a separate route. Even when he wishes he could save Twice, he leads first with a violent attack and then with a promise of rehabilitation. And in the end, he kills him anyway. Even now, confronted with the fact that killing a person he didn't want to kill didn't actually solve anything, he yells, "Kill them!! NOW!!" without second thought.

Hawks clings blindly to the sermons of his youth like a drowning man clinging to a branch. It didn't work the last time -- but it worked for a while! It meant no Sad Man's Parade in the first war! That's good, right? And these people who he wants to kill are bad. All For One even said so himself! No matter that he can't articulate what exactly "good" and "bad" are. The answer is just as obvious now as it was back when he was a kid! Any other nuance is just AFO trying to manipulate him.

So he sticks to what he's always known. Because it's the only way he's been taught to handle problem solving of this magnitude. Because this is the only way things have ever been, dammit. If things change now -- if the world didn't have to be this way -- then how could his idealist heart ever cope with the lives he's taken? How could he live with himself knowing he could've saved more lives and created a brighter future than the one he's currently living?

I hope that after the war Hawks is able to process his emotions, his past, and his actions. That he's able to move past it and endeavor to create a society where kids aren't taught to kill and problems are solve proactively with compassion first instead of feathers.

[hollandorks]

domesticity--motn oneshot

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

a/n: time for another motn oneshot! This is set after chapter 31 but before the epilogue. It’s also set after the “partners” oneshot (but you don’t need to read that to understand this one!) This is just pure, unadulterated fluff. Get your toothbrushes ready, it’s going to give you cavities. 

If you feel like supporting me further, here’s some info on ko-fi perks! 

The song I listened to when writing this chapter is The Lament of Eustace Scrubb by The Oh Hellos (mostly for the overall vibes!) 

Series Masterlist

word count: 3300

It was the middle of the night in early December. 

Y/n was wide awake, curled in front of a roaring fire in the living room with a new book, waiting for Bruce to get home from his nightly patrol. 

It was still early, not quite two AM, still hours from Bruce being back. Even with the freezing rain outside, he still patrolled every night. He was adamant that winter was worse–longer nights made for more crime while the cold and snow made for more desperate people, hoping not to starve or freeze. 

Y/n was working on her own way to help–her budding restaurant, still as yet unnamed, a way to pay it forward and have a small homeless shelter all at once. She was going to feed, clothe, and house people as much as she could. In fact, she had just found the perfect building–two buildings next to each other, actually–in the heart of Gotham. She couldn’t wait for Bruce to get home so she could show him the listing. The place was a bargain, actually, long abandoned and rotting. But the less they spent on purchasing it, the more they could spend making it perfect. 

There was a loud clang from the general vicinity of the basement. 

Y/n frowned. It was too early for Bruce to be back yet. 

Unless something had happened. 

She tried not to panic as she set her book aside and hurried in the direction of their bedroom. 

She ran smack into Bruce, who was stepping into the hallway from downstairs. The cowl was off, the tips of his hair wet and turning to ice, drops of ice covering the armor he was still wearing. 

She immediately looked him over head to toe, worried he would be bleeding out. 

“Bruce?” she asked carefully. He usually stayed out until at least four, but sometimes six or seven if it was a busy night. Two AM was too early. Much too early. 

A shudder went through him at his name. His eyes met hers but they were distant. Cold. He was still in Batman mode. But usually he didn’t come upstairs in the armor. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked, hands already on him, fingers searching the places between armor plates for blood or bullet holes. 

He shook his head. “Not–not bad,” he amended after a second. “Might have cracked a rib.” 

“Not bad?” she said. “A cracked rib is not great.” She would know. Her ribs had been broken at the gala, and she was just now getting to where it didn’t hurt to stretch in certain ways. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

He was covered in ice, melting quickly now, and mud. She wanted to ask what happened, but knew he needed time to switch back into Bruce. He’d gently explained it to her, a couple of weeks after their first date, that he wanted to share things with her but that he needed a little time when he first got back. He said it was like shedding a skin every night. He took off the armor and wrote out his thoughts while reviewing the footage from the night. He needed to process everything, to let himself think, to let Bruce Wayne resurface slowly. 

Bruce let her lead him into their bathroom. She gently helped him remove the armor, promising in a murmur to clean it later, while she let the bathtub fill with hot water. 

There was something almost haunted in his expression. Something bad had definitely happened. She swallowed hard. Her heart broke for him. 

She slipped his shirt over his head. There was a chill coming off of his skin, icy water dripping from his hair into his eyes and over his bare shoulders. 

His left side was already turning purple. “We should have someone look at this,” she said softly. She went to unbutton his pants but he caught her wrists in his freezing fingers. 

She stared up at him, at that terrible look in his eyes. She grabbed his wrists in turn so they were holding on to each other. “What do you need?” she asked. 

“Just–stay,” he whispered. His eyes closed and he lowered his head until their foreheads touched. “Just stay with me.” His voice was broken. He was hurting. 

“Always.” She lifted one of his hands and kissed the bruised knuckles. “You’re freezing.” 

He shivered as if her words made him finally realize it. He quickly shucked off his pants and got into the tub, shuddering heavily at the hot water. 

“Too hot?” she asked as she knelt beside him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. She pushed her sleeves up and lightly touched his shoulder, just to reassure him that she was there, that she was with him. 

Y/n reached over and shut off the water, dousing the room in sudden silence. She went to the shower, got his shampoo and a bar of soap, as well as a washcloth. 

She quietly shampooed Bruce’s hair, letting him dunk and rinse it while she started gently washing the grime from his skin. He hummed softly as she wiped the cloth over his shoulders and down his back. She took one arm and then the other, then worked her way down his chest and stomach. She dunked her arms into the hot water and scrubbed down his legs next, careful not to accidentally pull the hairs that covered them. The edges of her sleeves dampened. 

Satisfied that at least most of the grime was off of him, she grabbed one of their shared makeup wipes and started removing the black makeup, heavily smudged down his cheeks from his dripping hair. The water sloshed as Bruce leaned his head back against the edge of the tub. His eyes were still closed. She held his jaw still with one hand and the wipe in the other. 

“He killed a kid,” Bruce suddenly said. The movement of his lips ghosted against her wrist. Under the water, his hands tightened into fists. She’d stopped wiping at his face when he’d spoken, but quickly resumed so he would keep talking. “He broke in and the kid tried to stop him. Made enough noise that the neighbors called the cops. I got there first.” 

Done with removing the makeup, she switched to a facial cleanser and used a clean cloth to wash his face. 

Eyes still closed, Bruce said, “He shot the kid when he saw me. He tried to run, made it into the backyard, out in the suburbs, but–” 

But Bruce had caught him. 

“I almost didn’t stop,” Bruce whispered. His breath gasped from between his lips. Y/n was done with his face and gripped it with both hands. “I almost didn’t–” 

“It’s okay,” she said firmly. “You did. You got the guy. And he’s going to go to jail forever for what he did.” 

Bruce’s eyes opened and latched onto hers. He was still breathing heavily, blue eyes even bluer in the light of the bathroom. Her breath hitched a little. “I was too late,” he whispered, broken, hurting, ashamed. 

Y/n pressed a kiss to his damp forehead, brushing the wet strands of his hair back. He leaned into her touch, watching her from beneath his long, dark lashes. “But you got him, and he’s going to be punished. You can’t blame yourself, Bruce. You did as much as you could.” 

“But I–” 

“What? You could have gotten there sooner? Sure. But he probably would have killed the kid either way. Or maybe he wouldn’t have killed that kid, but he would have had enough time to run. And then he would have killed someone else later. I know–I know it sucks. I’m sorry he was killed, really. But you’re doing enough. You’re enough.” She kissed him lightly. “You’re doing the best you can, and that’s enough. Gotham is better because of it.” 

Bruce’s eyes closed. She released him and watched as he relaxed, little by little. 

“What do you need?” she asked again. “Food? Sleep?” 

Bruce opened his eyes a little to look at her. She studied the long column of his throat as he swallowed. “I want–pizza.” He gave her a sheepish grin, cheeks turning slightly pink. “I just–I haven’t had pizza in a long time and–” 

She smiled. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I’ll make it happen. How about I order while you get dressed, or you can relax here for a bit. Then we can watch that new documentary I told you about.” 

Bruce hummed again. “That’d be nice,” he murmured. She kissed him one more time and climbed to her feet. 

She wasn’t confident that a pizza place would be open so late, even in a city as big as Gotham, but she was going to make it happen. Bruce never asked for things for himself, and if he wanted a pizza, she was getting him a damn pizza. 

A quick search on her phone revealed only one place that was still open, and they were set to close at three. It was 2:45. With a small curse, she called the number. They didn’t pick up, so she called again. 

When they answered, she made her case, and offered a hundred dollar tip if they would deliver it despite closing soon. The person on the phone asked the delivery driver in a skeptical voice if they were willing to risk it, not caring that she was still on the other line listening. 

“What’s the address?” he asked with a sigh. 

She gave the mailing address for Wayne Manor. 

The guy was suddenly angry. “I–that’s Wayne Manor. Is this a prank?” 

She bit back a retort and instead only said, “Yes, it’s Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne wants a pizza. I’m telling you, I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you can get here. Please.” 

There was another hushed conversation before they finally agreed to do the order, promising to have it there within half an hour. 

Y/n hung up with a triumphant smile. Pizza acquired. Now she was going to stoke the fire in the living room, queue up the documentary, and hunt down every appropriate movie snack she could come up with in the house along with as many warm blankets as she could find. 

As she gathered up some throw blankets–ones she’d bought on sale as soon as the weather turned freezing a few weeks before, because Bruce didn’t really have much in the way of comfortable blankets–she called down to the guards at the gate to let them know there was a pizza delivery coming. 

Bruce found her in the kitchen scrounging up snacks and drinks. He was wearing his favorite pair of gray sweatpants and a sweatshirt that was so faded she couldn’t tell if it had always been plain or if it had once said “Nirvana” or something. 

“Alcohol, soda, juice, or water with your pizza?” she asked. She preferred soda when having pizza, and realized that she didn’t know Bruce’s preference. As had happened often these past few weeks, a little thrill shot through her at getting to learn something so simple but strangely intimate about him. No one else knew what Bruce Wayne liked to drink with his pizza. 

Bruce shrugged. “You pick.” 

Soda it was. Caffeine didn’t matter for someone who was nocturnal anyways. 

“I didn’t realize what time it was–how’d you find somewhere still open?” he asked, helping her carry the drinks and plates into the living room where the fire was crackling cheerily. 

“Oh you know, just casually dropped Bruce Wayne’s name and threw in a bribe.” She grinned as he blinked. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking,” he said with a frown. 

“For once, I’m actually not.” 

Bruce breathed a laugh. “Well, at least I’m good for something.” 

She moved around the couch and wrapped her arms around his waist. She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You’re good for a lot of things.” 

Their lips met halfway. She leaned into the solid warmth of him, his lips chapped but gentle against hers. She still couldn’t get over that this was her life. She felt a little bit like Cinderella after all. 

Bruce’s phone vibrated with an alert from the gate. The pizza was here and being escorted up the driveway. 

“Have you ever ordered takeout here?” she asked as she gently pushed him down onto the couch. “Because the guards definitely seemed surprised.” 

Bruce sank into the cushions. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Um. No. Usually I send Alfred for stuff so no one bothers us.” 

Her response was interrupted by the doorbell. 

“Is–that my wallet?” Bruce asked when she pulled it out. 

She winked and half-skipped to answer the door. 

“Hi,” she said to the pizza delivery guy who wasn’t trying to hide his shock. He craned his neck around her, obviously trying to get a glimpse of Bruce Wayne in his own home. Behind him, the security guard was bundled up on his golf cart, obviously annoyed at having to be out of the warm guardhouse. “Here’s the money for the pizza,” she said as she handed over the cash. Freezing air poured in through the open door. The air smelled crisp and clean, promising snow. “And the promised tip.” 

The guy’s eyes almost popped out of his head. 

“I–Wow, thank you, wow. I thought for sure this was going to be a prank or something, wow. Have a good night!” The guy gave her a huge grin but made no move to leave. He was waiting to see if he could still catch Bruce. 

“You too!” she said as she closed the door in his face. 

She brought the two steaming pizzas back to Bruce, who perked up when he saw them. 

“I got two larges with each half something different. I have no idea what you like.” She bit her lip. “Probably should have asked before I ordered, huh?” 

He tugged her wrist so she would sit beside him. “Perfect,” he said, kissing her temple, before eagerly grabbing the boxes. She watched as he chose a slice of all four kinds of pizza and dug in. 

“How long has it been since you’ve had pizza?” she asked with a raised eyebrow as she got a couple of slices of her favorite. Bruce was eating with the enthusiasm of a preteen boy at a sleepover who could have as many slices as he wanted without being told to stop. 

“Um,” he said, mouth so full she had to laugh. He chewed and swallowed. His cheeks were pink again. “Before Batman, I think?” 

“Wow. That’s…you haven’t had pizza in like two years?” Her mouth dropped open of its own accord. “Isn’t that…a sin or something?” 

Bruce huffed a laugh. “Well now that I’m having it, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

She bumped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you all about Gotham’s best pizza places.” 

They ate in companionable silence as the documentary played on the screen. After a little while, Bruce propped his feet on the coffee table and pulled a blanket over himself. She snuggled into his side and tucked her knees up. 

His cold fingers laced with hers. He smiled at her, all soft angles in the low light of the screen and the fire, and lifted his arm so she could snuggle closer. 

Outside, snow began to fall, the first of the season. 

Y/n gasped and sat straight up as her eyes fell on the window. 

Bruce sat up too, instantly on alert, eyes darting around for any hidden threats. 

“Snow!” she said, pointing excitedly towards the window. 

He made a face. 

“I’m going outside,” she said, scrambling up from the couch and making a beeline for their room. She pulled on snow boots, a hat, and a couple of extra layers. 

“It’s freezing,” Bruce said from right behind her. He was frowning deeply. “It’s just snow.” 

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen it snow here. I’ve always been stuck in the city where it turns brown as soon as it touches the ground. Here though–” She sighed wistfully as she began lacing up her boots. 

Bruce sighed, a much more resigned sigh than hers had been, and started bundling up. He pulled a knit hat over his dark hair and she had to stop to smile at him for a second. 

“What?” he asked, a little self conscious. 

“Nothing. You just look so cozy.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him excitedly out of the front door and onto the already snow-covered lawn. 

The flakes were falling thick and fast, a gentle shushing noise the only sound to be heard for miles. Even the distant city noises have quieted, a blanket of silence laying over all of Gotham. 

Y/n spun in a circle, arms thrown wide, head tilted back to catch flakes on her tongue.  

The grounds of Wayne Manor–and the house itself–were spectacular in the snow. She couldn’t wait to wake up in the early afternoon and see the thick white covering everything in the daylight. She inhaled deeply and let the clean scent of the snow fill her lungs. It was so much better than it had been in the city. 

She turned to find Bruce staring at her, his expression dumbstruck, like he had been hit in the head. 

“What?” she asked with a grin. 

He merely shook his head and smiled. He was a splash of shadow in the bright white in his dark clothes. The snow, even in the dark, made his eyes so much bluer. Her breath caught in her chest as she looked at him. 

“I love you,” he said, then pulled her close for a kiss that stole what was left of her breath. 

She didn’t know it, but it was at that precise moment that Bruce Wayne decided he wanted to propose to her. 

They spend a few minutes in the snow. Bruce took her hand and they started walking, no destination in mind, simply enjoying each other’s company. 

She stopped to retie her boot. When she straightened, a snowball hit Bruce squarely in the face. 

She laughed and skipped away. He caught her about the waist and held her with one strong arm while the other scooped up a handful of snow to press against her bare neck. She shrieked and struggled to get away. 

Laughing, they threw snow back and forth, hardly bothering to even form snowballs. 

Bruce caught her again and yanked her close. His lips crashed against hers, his nose cold, his body warm against hers. 

“What was that for?” she breathed when he finally pulled away. 

“I love you,” he said fiercely. There was something in his face she couldn’t quite place. “Thank you.” 

“For hitting you in the face with snow?” she asked with a laugh. 

“For–making this fun.” He kissed her again. “But can we please go inside now?” 

She laughed again. Everything was bright within her. Her heart was so full of joy she could burst. Things were good–she was going to build that restaurant and shelter, Bruce loved her, and Wayne Manor looked beautiful in the snow. 

“I haven’t told you yet!” she said excitedly as they headed back inside. “I found the perfect place.” 

Bruce let her chatter at him as she led him inside, back to their bedroom, both of them freezing and damp now. 

She was radiant like this–her face glowingly happy, hair damp with melting snowflakes, talking about the project she was passionate about. 

Bruce wanted to marry her. He wanted her to be his wife, to be his forever. 

Maybe Alfred could help him find his mother’s old engagement ring.

taglist: 

@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @glowexe  @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @takeyour-pants-off  @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @minstens @curly-bookworm @call-me-nayo​

[scatcrccio]

AS MUCH AS TAI INSISTED THAT NAT NEVER TOOK THINGS SERIOUSLY, this had been her menial attempt at trying. Which, had also correlated in her overall reasoning for leaning in on the kiss in the first place. Contradicting as it was, she'd done so knowing that the woman was craving some form of distraction in order to dodge whatever inevitable admittance she didn't really want to divulge. In that sense, she did know Tai too much at times and yet, apparently not so much as it turned out. So, why Tai was practically glaring at her now only proved perplexing to Natalie overall, but it went without saying. After all, it wasn't often most people showed up at her motel room just wanting to actually talk (unless they were Misty fucking Quigley). A minor case of whiplash that she'd sooner rather avoid if possible. Still, she takes the other's mumbled words personally, letting the amber liquid rest upon tongue for a moment too long before swallowing and letting the burn slither down her throat. Enjoying every last second of it. She almost speaks to the initial statement, but then stops herself when Taissa continues, letting the conversation get serious again on the primary subject matter once more. Glass in hand lowering momentarily, now gripped in both hands in front of her as she leans herself against the counter. Of course, Tai brings up Shauna's name and Nat isn't even the least bit surprised; those two were like peas in a pod, always had been. Not that she was jealous - maybe a little bit - in all honesty, she expected that response either way. ❝ Well, yeah… ❞ naturally assuming talking to a professional sleep specialist about it was out of the question at this point given Tai's public appearance and she resists the subtle urge to mention that the woman had put herself in that position. They had all agreed to keep themselves on the down low since being rescued and yet, Tai chose the spotlight regardless. There was a lot that could've been said; a lot of backlash playing at the tip of her tongue but she knows too that that's not what Tai wanted to hear. Not from Natalie of all people, or, maybe it was. Maybe that was exactly why she was here in the first place, to come to the one person who wouldn't bullshit or sugarcoat the obvious spectrum. ❝ Look, ❞ she sets the glass back down upon the counter with a heavy sigh, running fingers through already messy hair, ❝ you're already giving the media a want for more information by making yourself a public figure. They already know who you are, to an extent and they're not going to just stop because you keep denying them that information. I get it though, I do, this is something you've wanted for a long time and why let the past stop you from doing that? Fact of the matter is, they'll never stop trying, especially now. At this point though, that's the least of your worries. If your biggest fear is that you'll actually hurt someone without knowing then that needs to be our primary focus, right? So… ❞

she's mostly thinking out loud at this point, ❝ Simone's out of the house, for her own safety, that's a good thing until we can figure this all out. Maybe… I don't know, just, hear me out: what if I stayed with you for a few nights? Kept an eye on you, I don't sleep much these days anyway. ❞ Failing to mention that she isn't afraid of getting hurt in the process should that be the outcome because in truth, she feels the most dispensable out of anyone else. ❝ It'll look like your wife moved out to make room for an old colleague who's become homeless and desperate, doesn't want your kid around an old drug addict, it'd make some sense to that degree. Makes you look somewhat good in the process for helping out a struggling friend. Hell, you could even fake offer me a job if that helps. Either way, I'll be able to keep some tabs on you. ❞

watching natalie get up and walk away made her fume way more than it should have. the other woman knew her too much. she knew that she wouldn't have let her get away with changing the subject. taissa bites her tongue, narrowing her eyes with a small scowl. she should be impressed with how smooth that was, but instead she's annoyed. at least she knows that she'll get a drink out of this. "you can't take anything seriously." it's mumbled under her breath, but she made sure it was loud enough for the other woman to hear. "for once in your life, natalie...."

but she still takes the drink when offered, deciding that maybe after all of this....the kiss...being more vulnerable than she normally was...she needed it. or more so needed something to focus her attention on that wasn't this. in a way, she'd so much rather lock lips with her again than talk about her feelings, which really puts a spotlight to where taissa's priorities were. or even, how much she was willing to push down and not talk about. but she talks about it anyway because what else would she do?

" -- just shauna." she remarks. who else would she have told? van and lottie were nowhere to be seen. she'd been avoiding misty's calls for months at this point, there was no way that anyone else would even get the severity of the situation. "it's not something that i can exactly broadcast to the world." she brings the drink up to her mouth, taking a sip before continuing. "can you imagine the headlines? like i would want to give them more material." taissa scoffs, glancing towards natalie with a real look of vulnerability for once. "not that i would ever admit it normally, but i'm afraid. what if i hurt someone, nat? knowing the past, that is not a hypothetical. i could do it and never know."

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#166

“We are both in a pickle aren’t we faggot? Well actually you. I wasn’t the one arrested for public sexual activity under the overpass down by the river. Granted I could have been caught there with my dick in you like it was the other day. But I don’t think my officers would have done anything to me. First I know when the stings happen....

"Second, the lead officer, the one that arrested you is a buddy from a long time ago from our days in the Corps. He would protect me, just like I have protected him in the past. I knew there would be no sting when that big construction worker and I fucked that faggot cunt of yours. I mean, I have an eight incher, but his was fucking huge, easily an inch or two longer. You were in heaven getting spit roasted and spun around and spit roasted again. I can’t remember which hole I unloaded into the first time. And it’s been a long time since I could go for a second load. But the way he was smacking you around and verbally treating you like shit, I couldn’t lose my boner.

"In all my times going, I have never seen that man there. My officer bud tells me that right before he arrested you, that he saw that construction worker walking back to the parking lot with a sizable bulge in his pants. Yeah he knew you were just fucked. What he didn’t expect is to find you naked beating off covered in his piss, and skid marks on your face. You fucking pig. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were into the pig stuff? I would have been using you regularly to eat my ass. I love a good tongue in my shithole. Hell, I have a rimseat set up at home for just that reason.

"In fact, I want to feel it now. On your knees, let me give you a taste of what you would have been eating all along. Get that tongue in there deep. Oh fuck. That feels good. Damn, for an eighteen-year-old, you sure know how to eat ass. Fucking hell. My cock is rock hard. I need to fuck your twat. You probably still have his load in your ass. Up over the desk. I’m going right to the root on the first thrust. Damn! He really stretched your twat out. Not much resistance. And he dumped a huge load up here, it’s all nice and slimy.

"It won’t take me long. Fuck yeah. You fucking slut. Your cunt was made for men to dump into. That’s what you exist for, to be used by men, real men. Faggot here it cums. Here is fucking cums. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Damn faggot. Clean me off. Ho boy! That felt good. Squat down there with my dick in your mouth. I’m going to try your urinal skills in a few moments when I get soft, seeing that it will be the only time I will get to.

"Let me explain your situation. My buddy and I scout for boys like yourself. We looked into your background. You ran away from your last foster home two years ago. You wound up here back in May, homeless. You sleep in the woods up stream with a few other of our homeless. You pretty much spend your days under that overpass earning cash the old fashioned way. So yeah we know who you are.

"We posted a few pics I took of you to a site, and we have a buyer. That construction worker drove half a day to collect you. He first tried you out with me. Then he wanted you one on one before he made his decision. On the way back to the parking lot, he passed my fellow officer. With a subtle nod, he told us that he wanted to claim you. All that was left was collecting you. That brings you here. You have a decision of your own to make here. No paperwork has been processed, so you haven’t been arrested. But it can be. Your first choice is to be arrested on a number of counts, some of which will require to register as a public sex offender for life. The other is to be taken by that construction worker and his enormous cock. Based on what he has said on that site, you will be locked up and brutally used as he sees fit. From what he did to you today, most likely that would involve becoming his toilet as starters. Those are your two options. You get to decide.

"Speaking of being a toilet, I’ll let you make your life changing choice while you are drinking that load of my piss. Ahhh. That feels good. Real good. You really enjoy doing this, don’t you? Just nod. Figured. So it’s obvious; there really is no decision to be made here. I don’t know who trained you to be a world class pig fag, but he did a great job. Now stand up and let’s get you to your new owner. The hell? I spoke too soon. Look at that, you leaked spooge all over the floor. Get the fuck down there and lick it up. For fuck’s sake.”

[darlingbudsofrae]

Neil Josten Appreciation Post

Foxes Appreciation Series : 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 ||

Alright, let’s just start this by addressing the big elephant in the room: everyone loves Neil Josten. EVERYONE.

If you don’t, you’re lying. 

Okay, first up- I’m glad this is getting addressed more on AFTG tumblr but Neil is literally so much smarter than the fandom gives him credit for.

Like yes, he’s a little dumdum on the social aspect of things (you could argue he kind of has a low EQ but also not really, I would argue that later)

but that doesn’t dismiss that he is smart af and that he can kill you and make it look natural if he wants.

For example, he literally outrun and hid from the mafia for years. Like, that in itself is an obvious point but we often forget that he did this at a very young age.

Like, he was presumably what? 16?? (when Mary kicked the bucket?) And kid was already playing hide and seek pretty well with a freaking mafia.

He does not get enough credit for this.

The survival skills it takes- the mental strength to survive as a runaway and technically he’s also homeless- at freaking 16, that’s just insane.

Also, let’s not mention the fact that it takes skills to forge official papers and all that.

We also do not talk enough about Neil and how he freaking have to relearn an entirely new position just to play exy.

I don’t think most remember that he’s actually a backliner, but have to play as a striker because it was the only available position in that local high school he attended in Millport, and that was how Kevin saw him so he was recruited as a striker.

We also additionally do not talk enough about how Kevin “literal and figurative Son of Exy” Day found potential for court in Neil “I’m a backliner but I’m playing striker because it’s the only thing available and I’m an exy junkie” Josten who only played it for like a year or less. 

Like yeah, Kevin said he needs more training but it’s not even Neil’s official position. 

The talent on this man- I cannot, he is such an icon. 

Aside from his great survival skills and being literally great at picking things up- he’s also like freaking academically smart.

Like that also doesn’t get enough credit- I mean, he does math for fun.

Frankly, I think if you did Kumon or if you had an awesome teacher you could also do math for fun (I know I did) but this should be noted with the fact that he didn’t have proper schooling.

He went on a run at a really young age so there is no way he received formal education.

Which means he is naturally like really smart.

He’s also a polyglot. And the languages he has under his belt are all freaking difficult to learn- like, no kidding: French, German, and he can assumingly speak intermediate Spanish, and we don’t even have an idea if this is all the languages he can speak.

Also, he and Andrew learns how to speak Russian, right? Like, that’s crazy.

The brain on this man and the power that he has- my son, I am so proud.

I mean, for all we know- there’s more than that and the fact that he’s like 18 at TFC screams supremacy.

This is where I argue about his EQ but Neil is crazy perceptive.

It took him like freaking 3 seconds to figure out the team dynamics the foxes have, and how to work against it.

He later figured out how to make it all mesh together.

Like the way he do things isn’t conventional but reading him analyze his team despite his lack of empathy really makes me shudder.

Like, this kid is so freaking smart. I remember reading his thought process for the very first time and being like, okay- I definitely did not think about that.

The main problem with his EQ though is that he doesn’t know how to process positive stuff when he’s involved, but when he’s the outsider- his perspective is so amazing.

Like again, he kind of lacks empathy but the way he understands things and is just so sharp is just noteworthy.

I’d argue he doesn’t understand social cues and “modern teen things” but he isn’t so completely clueless on the social aspect in general as to not manipulate an entire team of misfits with issues to work together.

He’s literally the key to unity in AFTG. Even Dan says so.

Also, the way he puts things into play- like he’s a master manipulator, and I love that for him.

We do not talk enough about manipulative Neil, like I just really love manipulative characters in general so much- especially if they’re just owning it. 

I mean, he freaking manipulated Andrew and Aaron into therapy. Kind of evil but also wow. (just a sidenote, please don’t force people into therapy lol)

Going completely dark for a second, Neil also has a freaking high pain tolerance.

The amount of horrible things he went through in the books were just so sad and the fact that he just kind of moves on from it? That’s just completely oh my gods.

My poor summer child, even if you can kill me at any given time, let me just hug you for a second with consent.

Everyone also gives shit about Neil’s fashion choices and granted it is said he kind of bags the homeless looks but the fact that he values utility above all else-

Yes, we stan a resourceful king. 

Lowkey though, am I the only one who appreciate Neil’s average style?

Speaking of style- I love the way Neil narrates. Like, the way he doesn’t give much attention to how the character looks- it’s just so realistic?

Because if I’m talking to a person in real life, there is no way I am noting how his blue polo makes him kind of casual but clean-cut and how his brown eyes is as warm as my morning coffee. Like, who even does that?

The thing with Neil’s narration is that it’s just so authentic- like it easily engages the readers and the way he gives importance to every thing the same way, it really makes it easier for the reader to discern things objectively, y’know what I mean?

He just has that quality in a main character and narrator- he’s laidback and sarcastic but not trying too hard, and he’s just really easy to love.

Like, I normally don’t like narrators/main characters in books because I favor a side character more or just because they’re annoying, but Neil Josten is legit lovable. 

At the same time, he’s also a really well-written character. Like, for all the technicalities I point out in AFTG, Neil is an asshole. He’s not perfect and I don’t 100% love everything that he does and I love that.

He’s a flawed character but he gives you something to root for- and I just really want to appreciate his characterization for a second. Most books make their characters’ flaws not even their fault to put a check to the flawed character but at the same time still have that perfect character. Eeww, no- give me real flaws to work with.

He’s one of the realest protagonists I ever read.

Like people give him shit for wanting to hide but also choosing to play a nationwide-discerned sport on an infamous collegiate team but for me it’s kind of realistic.

Because I think we, as human beings, also do things we love too much regardless of logic. I don’t know, like it’s kind of funny the way Neil is written but I honestly didn’t see him joining Palmetto as a loophole.

Like, just think of all those successful people who hid their identities via pseudonym or other necessary means to do things they weren’t expected to do or weren’t allowed to do.

For me, his character was really just looking for excuses to play his favorite sport a second longer and if anything, that’s just kind of sad.

But also, his dedication and love to exy is really admirable- like I never understood it but the way he literally does everything to stay on the court for a second longer just makes me want to root for him.

On a random note, Neil may not have an eidetic memory like Andrew’s but the way he memorize most phone numbers by heart? 

Bruh, I don’t even have my phone number memorized and I freaking have it for two years now. 

He also memorizes every twists and turns at every trip, every exits at a room he enters, and most people’s tics upon the first meeting, and other things and that’s just crazy perceptive but also really crazy on another level.

Also, we don’t get much ace/demi representation and out of the few I’ve consumed, demi Neil Josten validates me. He’s legit my favorite character that belongs in the ace spec in books.

I just really love Neil’s character so much- he’s just so amazing.

One thing I always appreciate about Neil Josten is that while he’s not a total angel (sadly), the way he loves the foxes- like he legit tried to mend the team and make sure everyone is going to be okay before walking straight to his death- like I’m with Andrew on this one, what a fucking martyr. Why are you like this and why am I crying?

Neil Josten is by all means not soft, that much is established, but the way he’s just still as precious and must be protected at all costs-

"You know, I get it," Neil said. "Being raised as a superstar must be really, really difficult for you. Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you're worth a damn off the court—yeah, sounds rough. Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time."

I love him, your honor- where can I file this adoption papers and do I have anything else to sign?

[sunsh1ner]

\\ The nickname made him choke back a wave of grief. As he went to speak, Angelo came bolting out.

For a moment he nearly stopped there. He didn't want Angelo to see this, to hear this, but.. he needed to say something. Let them know who he was. \\

"Okay. And don't.. don't blame yourself. You were needed here, more than you think. I'm.. going to explain who exactly I am before I play this because it's.. it's important."

\\ Those few words made Mike look.. so much smaller than he ever was. With a shaky inhale, and exhale, he looked to the two. \\

"You guys can probably guess I'm.. a Mikey. I was in the timeline where.. uhm.. nobody made it. The Hamato clan needed someone to stop the invasion, and when the portal was made, Casey Jr and Leo.. they were taken out by a Titan Kraang. The first in my timeline to die was.. was dad, by a pack of Kraang hounds. Second was Raph, torn to shreds by a pack of Kraang hounds. The third was Donnie - he was trying to find a cure while he was infected and he.. was taken over. I tried to get rid of the Kraang but it was too much on him: he flatlined in the infirmary and the Kraang knew where base was. Fourth and fifth was April and Cassandra, they were crushed to death. Sixth and seventh was Leo and Casey Jr."

\\ Every word was a step closer to him cracking and breaking down then and there. Instead, he let himself drift as he spoke. \\

"When I was.. brought back after I died the first time, it was four years after the invasion. Another Casey Jr - the one you unfortunately met - was the one to help stop this invasion. I went into the Hidden City, got a cloaking brooch made into a tongue piercing, and from there they forged me a new identity and I was.. okay living as just.. Mike, until the boys found me after I got my shit wrecked by a homeless dude who tried to rob me the night before. They brought me to the lair, I lost my shit and told them - in summary - to fuck off and went about my business before Leo found my apartment and in the midst of a freakout I unveiled myself. From there I just.. basically was taken in."

\\ It was odd, thinking about how things went again. For a moment he was quiet, but clearing his throat he continued, crossing his arms as he stood there. \\

"I was.. spiraling, though. Hard. I didn't have my ninpō or mystics and it was hard for me to get that back. It meant I didn't have my brothers and I had.. night terrors that kept me awake, glimpses of my brothers in every single one and I.. I went a little haywire and caused some serious accidents in the process. Leo has scarring on his hand from our sparring session, Raph has full-body scarring from the burns. Leo and Mikey were talking, and I.. I thought Leo said I was volatile, and Mikey said that I was pulling a Leo. I cracked and went to Draxum's with a bold ask for help on learning time portals again and.. whilst he didn't accept I did it myself via reading material he had. Leo and Mikey found me there after looking for me and I proceeded to go down to the harbor where Mikey opened the portal to the Prison Dimension to get Leo out. I, uhm.. I tried bringing my brothers back from my timeline, long before they all died and even though I was able to I.. I died. Again."

\\ It was a hollow laugh, and as he stood there he took out his cigarettes and lit one, taking a drag and letting out an exhale of smoke. \\

"Hamato ancestors got pissed at me and brought me back once again before sending me back to the right timeline, before Casey Jr got sent back, to the younger versions of me and my brothers. It was like the first time, save for the fact this was my Casey, and my April. This one was.. much harder, yet easier. I was able to get the key, with.. just one casualty, the Foot Clan lieutenant - and for awhile it was okay, I was building a portal, but nothing was working. Then the Donnie of that world opened up the portal for the Kraang via mine, and we ended up killing the Kraang, but not before Kraang Prime.. broke through my shell. Tried to kill me. I fireballed, burned away the tentacles, and from there I blacked out. Came to a couple months later with a titanium spine and ribs, and they.. sent me home. Time dilation meant I was gone 8 years."

\\ Mike, after it all, had gone through two cigarettes. It was then did he look to the two and he looked..

so tired. With an exhale, he looked past them, drifting for a moment before his gaze flickered back to the two. \\

"Now you know. And now, here's.. here's the recording."

\\ Leaning against the wall, he played it, and as it played he heard their voices. Every single one.

Then, the degradation towards Flora.

Every single warped word. \\

\\ It was quick, how Mike burst into a literal fireball, scorch marks under his feet and golden markings crackling like embers. Even then, he looked hesitant. \\

"Leo. Leo, I know you're somewhere in there, please just talk to me and tell me you're there."

\\ For a moment Leo did stop, the observant look that donned his face dropping ever so slightly before he let out a laugh and cracked his neck almost unnaturally. \\

"Sorry, dude, Leo.. is a bit out of commission right now. Same goes for, y'know.. Donnie? Dear little Casey Jr? What about your dad, Raph - April?"

\\ With each one, Mike could hear their voice through Leo, see similar mannerisms, mocking - taunting. Right then, flaming chains whipped out, quickly wrapping around not-Leo's legs, tripping him up and burning him at the same time. \\

"You. You don't get to fucking mock me."

\\ A familiar expression crossed the not-Leo's face - one of fear, terror, of Leo. \\

"mike. help."

\\ And then it turned into a grin. \\

"Gotcha good, didn't I?"