#middle of crisis fashion show

[lyth4]

Just a thought about blackwater arc, could HC’s choice to dress black be a way to tip off XL about what’s going on? Two gods dressed in white, two calamities dressed in black?

[runariya]

not sure if you're taking prompts anymore, but here's my prompt request! if you are not doing them, please feel free to ignore!

🤪🪄👑 – jk and oc/reader are fairies. every year, the fairies hold a ball where the newly turned of age fairies showcase their qualities. during her turn, oc gets messy with her magic, and she ends up making hilarious wrong moves. however, she becomes the mvp when her clumsy magic helps the guard fairies catch an imposter, making fairy prince jk very impressed.

have a good day/night! 🌸

(crack+fantasy+royal) part of the prompt game pairing: fairy prince!Jungkook x fairy!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, S2L, fluff warnings: none word count: 1.210

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You loathe the annual Fairy Ball. It’s all glitter and expectations, prancing around in ridiculous outfits, hoping to impress some snooty elder or, heaven forbid, a prince. And as fate would have it, you’ve finally hit the ripe age of fairy adulthood, so now you’re obligated to showcase your qualities. Because fairies can’t just live their lives in peace; oh no, you’ve got to prove your worth in front of the entire magical kingdom.

You’re currently hiding in the farthest corner of the grand ballroom, nibbling on some fairy cake, which you think tastes suspiciously like glitter and disappointment, while trying to appear invisible. The ballroom is nauseatingly beautiful, with its floating chandeliers and enchanted foliage that sings in harmony. Everyone else is shimmering and twinkling like they’ve just stepped out of a fairy fashion magazine. Meanwhile, you’re trying not to choke on your nerves and the one slightly burnt cupcake you nicked from the refreshments table.

“Next up! ___!” The announcer’s  cheerful voice rings out, and your heart plummets to somewhere near your sparkly pumps.

You freeze. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This is it. Your turn. You’ve been dreading this moment for weeks, practising magic tricks in your tiny mushroom-shaped home, only to set things on fire, or worse, accidentally summon a squirrel that now refuses to leave your bathroom.

You’re not ready.

But then again, when are you ever ready for public humiliation?

Dragging your reluctant self to the middle of the ballroom, you avoid the gazes of hundreds of expectant fairies. You think you see someone stifle a laugh. Excellent. You haven’t even done anything yet, and the ridicule’s already starting.

And there you spot him. Prince Jungkook. All golden wings and dark, glimmering eyes, sitting on his annoyingly fancy throne at the head of the room. He looks disinterested, twirling some kind of royal goblet in his hand, but you know he’s watching. Everyone’s watching, so why wouldn’t he. 

“Go on,” the announcer encourages. “Show us your magic!”

Oh, you’ll show them magic, all right. You’ve been practising one spell over and over, and it’s practically foolproof. The plan is to conjure a beautiful, shimmering butterfly, classic, elegant, and safe. A butterfly can’t possibly go wrong, can it?

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and mutter the incantation under your breath. You feel a warm flicker of magic build in your palms. Yes, this is it. You’ve got this. You can do this.

You open your eyes, ready to unveil your masterpiece.

Except…

What’s in front of you is not a butterfly. It’s… well, it’s a blob. A wriggling, glowing blob that looks like it’s having an identity crisis. Is it a butterfly? Is it a fish? Is it just pure existential dread in magical form? Who knows. You don’t. 

The room bursts into laughter. Of course. And you feel your cheeks heating up to a shade that could rival a flamingo.

“That’s… unique,” the announcer comments after a beat, trying to sound polite but failing miserably with his suppressed snicker. 

“Uh, wait, wait! That’s not all!” you squeak, waving your hands in panic. Maybe you can salvage this. Maybe you can turn the blob into something respectable, like a flower or…oh, for fairy’s sake, anything else.

But your magic has other plans. Before you can say “sparkles,” the blob explodes into a cloud of glitter. And not the nice, floaty kind. This is aggressive glitter. Sticky, clumpy, and raining down on everyone within a ten-foot radius, including Prince Jungkook.

You hear a collective gasp. Somewhere in the crowd, someone whispers, “She glitter-bombed the prince!”

Oh, brilliant. Just brilliant. You’re officially the laughingstock of the century.

You’re about to apologise profusely, or possibly faint, when something strange happens. A figure near the prince suddenly jerks, as though they’ve been struck by lightning. Their glamour magic flickers for a split second, revealing…

Wait. That’s not a fairy. That’s a goblin.

The room erupts into chaos. Fairies are screaming, guards are rushing forward, and you? You’re just standing there, utterly gobsmacked, as your accidental glitter-bomb continues to wreak havoc.

The imposter goblin tries to flee, but slips on the glitter coating the floor and guards seize him in seconds. It’s absolute pandemonium, and in the middle of it all, Prince Jungkook rises from his throne, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Silence!” he commands, and the room instantly quiets. Especially when he steps forward, glitter still clinging to his wings and his perfectly chiselled jaw.

“You,” he points at you.

You gulp. This is it. He’s going to banish you. Or worse, sentence you to a lifetime of cleaning up glitter in the palace.

“That was…” He pauses, debates. “Brilliant.”

Wait, what?

“Uh, excuse me?” you blurt out, because surely you misheard him.

“Your magic,” he waves around leisurely, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It exposed the imposter. No one else noticed, not even the guards.”

Oh. Oh. You did that. With your clumsy, terrible magic. Huh.

The crowd is murmuring now and you think you hear someone say, “She’s a genius,” which is objectively hilarious because you definitely did not intend to do anything remotely heroic.

Prince Jungkook steps closer, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, towering and annoyingly perfect. You want to say something clever, but your brain has apparently turned into fairy pudding.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…___,” you stammer, feeling like you might spontaneously combust under his gaze.

“Well, ___,” he slightly bows his head, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “I think you’ve just saved the entire Fairy Kingdom.”

Before you can process that ridiculous statement, he turns to the crowd and raises a hand. “Fairies of the kingdom, let us celebrate this year’s unexpected hero!” His eyes flicker back to you, and he adds with a grin, “And my personal favourite fairy of the evening.”

Your jaw drops. Literally. 

The crowd cheers. Actual cheering. For you. You’re half convinced you’re hallucinating at this point.

And then, because apparently your life isn’t surreal enough already, Prince Jungkook kneels. He kneels. In front of you.

“___,” he husks your name, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blink. Your brain is trying to catch up, but it’s like a broken wand sparking uselessly. “You’re… asking me out?” you manage to squeak.

“Yes,” he grins simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The room is deathly silent. Every fairy is holding their breath, waiting for your answer.

And honestly, what are you supposed to say? ‘No, sorry, I’m busy glitter-bombing other royals’? Of course not.

“I…uh…yes?” you squeak, though it comes out more like a question than a statement.

Jungkook laughs, and it’s so dazzling you’re surprised you don’t faint. “Perfect,” he stands and offers you his hand.

As the crowd erupts into unexpected applause and cheers, you take his hand, still half-convinced this is some elaborate prank. But then he leans closer and whispers, “By the way, the glitter? Best thing that’s happened all night.”

You glance at him, startled, and see nothing but sincerity and amusement in his eyes.

Maybe the Fairy Ball isn’t so bad after all.

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[rottiens]

⊹ ˚. how to be human (again), ft. gojō satoru

tags. secret relationship au (the beginning), strangers to friends to lovers, gojo is a bad cook (he's trying), cw blood, inspired by the canon universe, references to geto, the system and the higher ups suck, the reader is (was) a gojo fan, slightly angsty (the reader loses a friend on a mission and has a crisis) to comfort, female terms used for the reader. | wc. 6.3K

notes. this was quite a journey and I'm not sure if anyone will read this but if you do and enjoy it thanks for reading, hugs and kisses <3

It's not like you've thought about it before, it's definitely not like you've stopped to think about it for more than five minutes a day or like this has been a conversation you've had more than once with some of your friends, however none of the theories you may have discussed in secret could compare in how it felt to have the great Gojo Satoru in front of you.

You take a quick glance off your lap to check on him and verify that he's certainly still focused on his phone —even if he's still wearing the blindfold, it's not like that's going to stop him from answering his messages, right?— and upon verifying that he is indeed not paying attention to you, you go back to feigning interest in the magazine you are holding in one hand: in the colorful pages showing the latest fashion trends and in the 3D red-haired girl who is almost coming out of the magazine while making the peace sign with two fingers, even though she doesn't manage to stop your thoughts from orbiting around Satoru again. 

You think it's strange again... you feel him, you know he's there but at the same time it's like he's not there. Sometimes you have to look up to verify that he is really still there and that it is not a trick your senses are playing on you. Being in front of Satoru feels like when the back of your neck bristles and your heart shoots up at an accelerated rate for no apparent reason, like feeling like you're being watched by something even though you know it's the middle of the night and you're really home alone. 

You could feel his cursed energy vibrating, coming in intense waves from his direction, dulling your own and in turn making you feel like a little bug. His energy wasn't rough or violent, you couldn't describe it that way no matter how intense it was, it was more like being under the sun as its rays burned your skin. You couldn't say there were any bad intentions in this one either but what you were sure of was that he was alert, as if he was always waiting for an attack, like when your feet are on the edge of a tall building and vertigo bites your spine and the soles of your feet. 

In front of you, a few inches from your crossed legs sits a small wooden table; on it are cluttered magazines and two cups of tea that were served for you at least an hour ago. You've barely taken a drink from your cup, too nervous to make an unplanned move, after all with your luck you'd most likely end up tripping over the cup and spilling everything in front of one of the people you admire the most.

There wasn't a sorcerer who didn't know Satoru and all that he was capable of, so knowing that if all goes well you will be allowed to teach at the same institution as him puts some extra weight and responsibility on your shoulders. That you will likely have the opportunity to work with him or share missions together makes your guts tangle with each other. Although you couldn't understand why the director had taken so long to arrive, you had been flipping through the same magazine for the last few inexhaustible minutes, trying to distract your eyes, controlling your impulses not to look at him again....

However, you can't help yourself and end up looking him up and down at least a tenth time. He really is tall, much taller than you remember and taller than you can tell from the pictures. Besides the fact that, sitting with one of his arms stretched out on the back of the sofa and his legs spread apart, his knees far apart from each other, make his body look bigger, this one manages to occupy almost the entire space of the sofa. His thighs spill out into the uniform making the baggy pants look full. 

Your head falls slightly to one side and you wonder what he is seeing behind that blindfold, how much he is able to see, could he really see you or were you just acting like a fool looking at him out of the corner of your eye whenever you could, could you really keep looking at him without being afraid that he is going to say something about it?

Satoru stirs, his legs close to imitate yours. You run away unnoticed to turn your eyes back to the magazine, to the model who has been the only witness to your nerves on edge for the last hour. With your heart pounding in your throat, you turn the page only to find two actors kissing passionately on the front page with the headline that their love has crossed over from the big screen to real life. 

Flustered and not sure if you're feeling guilty about nothing, you glance back at Satoru and the lopsided smile he greets you with makes you jump a little in your seat. Pools of sweat gather on the back of your neck and trickle down the small of his back. 

Did he...?

You lean over the table to grab the cup and hydrate your throat, however, your body turns to stone. 

"Did you know it's rude to stare?" He speaks after so long of silence and your grip on the porcelain trembles. "I don't think we've met before, have we?"

You improve your position against the backrest and try to regain your composure by sipping some of the cold brew before speaking. "I don't think so, no." You hate tea. 

Satoru clicks his tongue and pushes his body forward to get a better look at you as your eyes struggle to stay somewhere fixed on his body other than his lips or thighs. "I could have sworn I've seen you somewhere." 

You're so embarrassed at what you're going to say next that you think you're going to faint.

"I had asked you for a picture before." And your voice cuts off at the end, unsure about the recent confession.

If you get to work together there could be no lies between you so you decide to be honest from now on, no secrets. Then everything also served as an excuse for the way he caught you looking at him. Yes, you did meet him once in person but you were so nervous that you barely remember the details of your encounter. 

Satoru rubs his jaw with his fingers, then the smile widens pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

"Hm. At that convention a few years ago maybe?" In a stupor where you can only move your eyelids and head, you nod in his direction. "The cutie with the colored hair..." He really did have a very good memory, you think and memories of that day begin to overwhelm your head in the form of embarrassing polaroids. "You're such a fan! You were so excited," Satoru adds, laughing, as if everything he mentioned before wasn't embarrassing enough.

"I wasn't officially a sorceress yet back then..." 

"Oh." He wasn't laughing, but he had a grimace that threatened to do so at any moment. "You're justifying yourself? You're not a fan anymore then?" He almost sounded disappointed and at this point it was impossible for you to keep looking at him, so arranging your posture on the couch you adopt another position where it allows you to maintain your dignity somehow. 

"I wouldn't say I was a fan..." You try to explain but Satoru interrupts you.  

"You definitely looked like a fan to me." He was laughing now. 

"What I mean is that I've matured now." You speak quickly as if trying to make a point. "I'm not a fan, just an admirer." You clarify, trying to get him to see that between those two words there is some difference that you are seeing clearly.

"Does that mean you don't want a picture again?" 

That photo you still keep in your nightstand drawer, well hidden under books, your phone charger and one or two other bracelets you wore as a teenager haunts you even in your dreams. You had forgotten about it. 

"No..." You force yourself to answer by shaking your head. "I don't think it's necessary now that we're going to be working together." 

Which fills you with pride, by the way. You were personally recommended by the principal of your old school, being transferred as soon as you graduated to Tokyo High to work under their jurisdiction alongside the strongest, someone you've looked up to since you started attending sorcery school is something that fills your chest so much that you could barely breathe normally.

You always wanted to have the opportunity to defend the weakest, that's why even though your clan was strong and you possess a cursed strong technique, you worked and trained every day earning the recognition of special grade sorcerers, among them your former director. Being in the capital and being able to protect more people, all this shoulder to shoulder with a man you admire was like a dream come true, one that slowly turned into a nightmare. 

Over the years you realized how corrupted the system was, the bad decisions made by the council and the higher ups, making sorcerers die every day without anyone stopping to mourn or miss them because all they were good for were as tools.... 

... You don't know why suddenly the first time you interacted with Satoru comes to your memory now, the only two things in common between the two events is that you couldn't breathe and perhaps that you were both sitting next to each other in an enclosed space that seemed to close in on you. At the time you were proud of what you were doing, sure of your every decision since protecting the weakest was something you had lived for—  though now, you weren't so sure of that anymore. 

"Hey." You feel him touch you, but not really. His cursed technique gets in the way once again, as always, protecting himself from you and the outside. The metallic smell of blood is permeating you, your hands and your uniform to a point where it's unbearable and overwhelming, your gut twists and your mouth fills with saliva threatening to make you vomit at any moment. Your eyes on the verge of popping out of their sockets carefully fixate on the calluses on your hands and the crimson liquid that stains them and gets trapped under your fingernails along with a bit of dirt. "Are you okay?" Satoru asks and that's the problem, you weren't. None of this was okay.

"Ijichi, stop the car," you say still admiring your hands, perplexed.  

"Ijichi, don't stop the car." Satoru retorts. 

"Ijichi..." Your call sounds like a warning and the man pulls over to the side of the road immediately, you hear him apologize right away along with the thousand and one reproaches that follow behind it from Satoru. 

The blood is left plastered on the door as you leave, it is left on your face as you push some of your hair away from your face. 

The desert heat manifests itself in small droplets on your forehead, limiting your vision and in an unquenchable thirst that scrapes your throat.

"I'm going to quit..." you whisper to yourself but the wind carries your words to your companion who was hurrying to your side battling with the sand in his shoes. 

"You're not going to do it." 

"You can't tell me what to do." 

Your heavy footsteps were soon leading you away from him as a stabbing pain bit into your muscles and your feet complain of the pain your shoes have been giving them all day. 

"It's just a mission gone wrong!" 

You stop suddenly and turn your body to face him. You're planted in front of him shaking with anger not just because the higher ups were going to reproach you and probably stop giving you special rank missions for months, maybe years—

"It wasn't just a mission gone wrong, someone is dead, Satoru!" a scream rips your throat as you shout the sorcerer's name, the feeling burning in your chest is not just that of a mission gone wrong, it's the death and blood of your friend on your hands.

Those spikes must have gone through that civilian, not your friend, that person who was with you since you started working for Tokyo, that person who supported and encouraged you when things weren't going so well. Just twenty hours ago you were having coffee with him in the coffee shop below your apartment and now you talk about him in the past tense. As life faded from those beautiful eyes, full of kindness, always ready to tell you that you were going to be okay they were gone.

"You need to calm your emotions or you're going to curse him." Was that really all he could say to you while you were getting wrecked in front of him? Your hands that tried so hard to stop the bleeding in your partner become fists. "This is not what he would have wanted, [Name]."

You snort, then start pacing in circles, searching for the right words other than fuck you. Suddenly you stop to face him and find yourself with that usual annoying blindfold that separates him from everyone else, that never lets you see what he was thinking, and you point an accusing finger at him.

"What do you know what he would have wanted, Satoru? You didn't know him." And you know you shouldn't keep talking, you're biting your tongue because you know you don't have to say it but if you don't that vein in your temples is going to explode. "You don't know anyone because you don't let anyone in, not even me who is supposed to be your friend." The word friend comes loaded with imaginary quotation marks and with the weight of all the years and missions you've shared together.

He says your name a second time, now sounding weak. 

"You are so busy, on your unreachable throne as the strongest that you would never think of the idea of being vulnerable and watching those you love die because you love no one." His jaw muscles are tense, showing you that you may have struck a chord. 

"That's not true. I'm trying to make this a better place, I want the sorcerers who are growing up to be better, stronger, who don't need someone like me and I understand you—" 

"You have to recognize the privilege you have, Gojo." He hated that you called him by his last name because it puts distance between you and makes you those strangers again in that meeting room while you waited for Yaga, but you have a point you wanted him to understand. "Please don't pretend you understand me, because you don't."

Tired of the conversation that seemed to be going nowhere you turn around, there is sand inside your white socks and uniform pants, with a heavy heart and head thumping you set out to get as far away from him as you can. Somewhere far away from those six eyes that always see everything and his cursed energy that seem to drown the whole desert beneath his aura. 

Satoru stops you by pulling your arm towards him, his fingers are an invisible force holding your wrist prisoner and you have no strength left to fight, the adrenaline from the fight that ended badly starts to evaporate along with the sweat on your forehead and you let him stop you, your anger replaced with a deep sadness. 

"I can't," you mutter closing your eyes, giving in to the flame of the sun toasting the top of your head. "Let me go." 

"I won't." He couldn't do it because he already saw what happened to a friend the last time he did it. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice, even if he had to fight yourself in the process. 

"I'm not going back to Jujutsu High," you say and your voice sounds steadier, swallowing the lump that ties your throat.

"I won't make you do it," Satoru snorts through his nose. "But at least come with me." 

You don't have the courage to turn and face him so you just nod, giving him permission to do as he pleases. Everything happens so fast you don't have time to process it, his big arms wrap around you in an invisible embrace, his cursed energy is vibrating all over the place and you don't stop him or try to complain the moment his arms squeeze you tightly and it only takes a couple of seconds for you to open your eyes and the hellish heat of the desert is replaced by a safe roof and four walls surrounding you. 

The thermal sensation of the air conditioning makes you shiver from the sudden change in temperature, making your skin bristle. You take a breath of air and step back finally breaking the safe space Satoru created for you and he doesn't stop you when you take space between the two of you or when your curious eyes examine the place, though the answer was obvious— an unstoppable "Where are we?" slips out of you, needing to hear a verbal confirmation that he too saw the same thing you did and that this was not an illusion. 

"My place," Satoru says so simply, hitting the bull's-eye on the idea created in your head. There are questions about teleportation you'd like to ask him but for the moment you keep quiet, admiring your friend's comfortable apartment as if it were a museum. 

You were in the middle of the kitchen and your body felt tingly and somewhat weak from the teleportation, your feet not quite sure that the ground they were walking on was real. You were surrounded by white colors and a few shades of brown coming from the countertop. You never imagined how Satoru would live, in fact he was so god-like that sometimes you forgot that he also ate and slept like you, yet for the money he must have had in his bank account the place seemed very... simple.

"Why do you have less stuff than me in my apartment?" The question comes in a joking tone wanting to break the ice even though you were still annoyed. "I thought you were rich," you add. 

Satoru emits a laugh that sounds more like a snort. "What makes you think I'm not," he declares arrogantly. You write him off as a smug fool, though you try hard not to roll your eyes at his attitude. "I don't need to buy so much stuff because I'm always traveling. I just come here to sleep."

Satoru motions inviting you to move around his apartment with him. You decide to follow him, walking down a short hallway just behind him. You watch as his fingers curl around the door handle at the end of the hallway, opening it for you and revealing the bathroom. You feel your eyes fill with a mixture of fear and insecurity, similar to the eyes of a wary deer as you enter the room. With a slight creak, Satoru closes the door behind you, leaving you disconsolate and alone along with your tangled thoughts.

The walls are lined with pristine white tiles, with a sheen that reflects the light like mirrors. You approach the sink and notice the golden faucets emerging from the white porcelain with elegance. As you face the wall-mounted mirror, your own reflection seems to show confusion and an overwhelming sense of uncertainty.

Your hair is a mess, the strands had escaped from the tight bun you usually wear when going on a mission, the scrunchie about to fall out. There is a small scar on your cheek that runs horizontally across it and barely noticeable stains from your own blood-covered fingers that got there when you try to pull your hair away from your face. 

You look down and guilt hits your bile, the innocent color of the sink had been replaced by your bloodied hands which clutched at it tightly. 

Through a glass window, a ray of light filters in, bathing the room with a faint luminosity. The sun's rays draw mysterious patterns on the tiled floor. Shadows dance in the corners, and in the midst of this overwhelming sensory experience, your mind is flooded with gloomy thoughts and unanswered questions. 

At that instant, the sound of tapping against the door startles you, bringing you back to the reality of the bathroom. 

"I'll leave some clothes outside," says Satoru, who doesn't wait for an answer before leaving and giving your thoughts space again.

You turn back to the reflection in the mirror and again to your hands, give way to the water trapped in the faucet and scrub your hands with the liquid soap resting on the ceramic, helping yourself with it to clean up the mess you had made. 

Then, you get rid of your uniform and with your foot drag it to a corner to get into the shower, from there you step under the stream of water in an almost automatic way. You barely react to the coldness of the water but after a moment you get used to it, let it run over you and clean with the help of the soap the mud stains and something else that crawl into the drain. 

You squeeze until your skin hurts, until the water carries no more dirt in the drain and you scrub until you have no more tears to drop, it is only at that moment that you turn the shower and force yourself to leave the comfort you had found in that cold wall to get out of the cubicle and dry your body with a towel you found neatly folded hanging above the toilet. 

As you open the door you find on the floor articles of clothing that you pick up and close the door again to examine. The first was a white T-shirt, large enough to reach your thighs, this was accompanied by blue shorts into which you slip, forgetting that you needed underwear. 

If it were up to you, you would stay all your life in that bathroom that smelled of coconut and oatmeal but you had to pretend to be brave. You take one last look at the image in the mirror, ignoring the fact that you still need to fix your hair and that there are dark circles under your red eyes you decide to finally leave, being seduced by a sweet smell and sounds of dishes clattering against each other you are guided to the kitchen. 

"What are you doing?" you ask confused, in front of you was a Satoru whisking something with a fork inside a bowl in an exaggerated manner, being extremely extra and loud.

"Pancakes." You stand silently admiring the technique, feeling like laughing because it looks ridiculous but not giving him the pleasure of listening to you. Satoru had changed out of his uniform into casual clothes —baggy jeans in a worn blue and a strapless T-shirt—and had ditched the blindfold, gifting you for the first time what his naked eyes looked like.  "I'm trying to cook. I usually eat canned stuff and I've been wanting to learn how to cook, at least basic stuff." Satoru commented something like that before, that he would forget to eat or buy meals on his travels that he would then bring home and forget to consume, you didn't expect him to be serious back then. Imagining him cooking was very out of character for you. 

You approach the countertop in disbelief, stepping through the door frame and then climb a stool to admire him up close. With the help of your hands you hold your jaw and soon your whole head is filled with Satoru stirring the batter, inevitably silencing your thoughts and lulling you into a sort of trance. 

Satoru stops his task to set the batter aside and focus on you, it was even worse without the blindfold, you didn't know where to hide to escape him. His blue eyes were on yours, then briefly went to your lips. 

"You said earlier that I wouldn't let you in, I want to." 

"You don't have to." You reply curtly, keeping up the mask that you don't mind losing his friendship, clinging to your anger. 

"I want to try." 

You're silent for a moment. "I'm not going back to Jujutsu High." Then you warn him. 

Satoru breaks the dueling stares to grab the bowl with white batter again which was starting to take on a fat texture, you wrinkle your nose at the strange consistency and at the tiny bubbles in it and the thought of criticizing his style of making pancakes lingers on the tip of your tongue. 

"I'm not going to force you to stay." Satoru takes a ladle and dips it into the batter, pouring a first misshapen pancake into a previously buttered pan. "But Maki is going to miss you." You roll your eyes. 

"You're not going to blackmail me."

"I'm not!" he laughingly defends himself, with a spatula poking the pancake around the edges to check if it was already browned —spoiler, it wasn't—. "But she really will." You think he's not really talking about Maki, though. 

Satoru flips the pancake which wasn't burnt or browned, it hadn't even been cooked and the spatula along with the pan are sticky from the batter. Exasperated, you get up from the stool to head over to him. 

"Come here." You don't wait for him to answer you to pull the spatula from his hands and try to save the pancake which screams in the pool of boiling butter.

"Oh, you're going to show me how it's done?" he asks half indignantly, half laughing. 

"Uh-huh." You reply, turning down the stove flame. "I'm not a teacher anyway, I don't have anyone under my care. And if I'd had a chance before I've blown it now." You return to the subject, ignoring the stove as you pay more attention to the coat of paint on the wall.  

"You were good today." Satoru says softly, it's so comforting the way he addresses you that you feel like crying but you mask it with a brief pout. 

"It's not enough to just do well. I lost more than the respect of the higher-ups today." You distract yourself by flipping the pancake over, the top showing you a burnt golden color, much more decent than what Satoru was doing.  

"Nobody's perfect, [Name]."

"You are." You reply too quickly as you victoriously scoop out the first pancake and throw another bit of batter into the pan, more butter. 

For longer than you would have liked to admit, all you hear is the bubbling of butter toasting the batter.��

"That's what you think of me?" Satoru breaks the silence and you notice out of the corner of your eye that he's folding his arms. 

"What does it matter what I think?" 

"It matters to me," he admits, looking at you for the first time. "You are my friend after all. You don't care what I think of you?" 

"Not really." You lie, taking the opportunity to flip the pancake. Even though Satoru probably knows you're doing it, his eyes widen slightly, looking you up and down. 

"I thought you were my fan." He puts a hand to his chest for added drama, gasping for air at the same time.

"Please forget that!" 

"You were eating me with your eyes thinking I didn't see you. That's workplace harassment, I could report you, you know?" 

"Shut up!" you threaten him with the spatula smeared with the mixture and a couple of drops fall to the floor. 

Little by little the plate was filling up with the pancakes that to your surprise didn't taste so bad, you shared one with Satoru before finishing cooking them and you even flattered him —they're okay, they were literally your words, it was the only praise you could give to his first attempt—, you knew he was going to get better.

From the shelf Satoru takes out two porcelain plates and places them side by side and brings them towards you, you are sitting on one of the stools. 

"Thank you."

"Are you going to stay over or do you want me to take you home?" Satoru asks before sitting down, poking at one of the fluffy pancakes. 

You take your time before answering, honey drizzling over the mountain of pancakes and making a puddle on your plate. The question bounces around in your head, reliving memories of the recent failed mission. 

"I think I want to be alone." You answer finally, focused on pinching a pancake with a fork. 

Satoru says nothing more, his gaze not falling back on you while you, on the other hand, check him with the side of your eye every five seconds. You force yourself to fill your mouth not to talk anymore because you had nothing more to say and whatever comes out of your mouth now could be dangerous. 

So you swallow and chew the words you never said, mixing them with the sweetness of honey and the burnt part of pancakes. Even though the silence is uncomfortable, there is a certain tranquility to it. 

After eating you help him wash the dishes and Satoru offers to drive you home. It was on the tip of your tongue to refuse but you were sure that it would be faster and the sooner you arrived the sooner you could throw yourself on the bed and get warm under your sheets next to your cat, so without time to lose you picked up your uniform from the bathroom and sent him your address through the gps which made you realize that you didn't live so far away. 

On the way you didn't talk much, just chattered about the irony of the weather and the heavy drops splashing against the window. You asked how his students were and he asked how your cat was, and before you could realize it Satoru was parking his car in front of the entrance. 

You accept his invitation to accompany you to the door, trotting in front of the coffee shop that had already closed, inhaling the smell of freshly brewed coffee that lingered in the air. He steps forward when you invite him into the warmth of your home. The light from the bulb chases away the shadows and draws your gray cat towards the entrance to greet you between meows, his soft fur brushes against your legs and then as if he has known him all his life he rubs against Satoru's legs and Satoru can't help but be seduced by the little animal and squats down to pet him while you smile at the scene. 

Satoru stretches out his knees again, lifting his size above you. 

"You're safe and sound," he says." You don't have to-"

Your bottom lip is quivering and you blame the raindrops you caught on your mini marathon from the car to your door, Satoru frowns and takes a step in front of you. You see his hands shaking but he forces them to keep still on either side of his legs, you can't see his eyes because they are hidden under the sunglasses but the concern on his face is more than evident. 

"Can I hug you?" Satoru doesn't say anything and just pounces on you, as if he's been waiting for you to give him permission. It's like always, you can't feel him but you're thankful he's here. "I was so scared there," you confess, forcing yourself not to cry and he realizes the fragile state you're in. "I don't want to see another friend die." Your arms tighten around his waist, lending weight to your sentence. 

"It's okay," he points out, stroking your back as if it were your cat. "I'm the strongest after all, you don't have to worry about me." 

You snort, sinking your face lightly into his unreachable chest and give him a light smack from behind that he never feels. 

Suddenly, as if something is pushing you, you fall on top of him, your face sinking into his chest and you quickly raise your head to look at him. He was smiling, a grimace that reassures you and pushes the heavy tears you had been holding out of your eyes. You hide your face in his torso again and it's so warm, you can't help but inhale as he pats your head, through it all you realize that unlike you, he's not wet. 

"It's going to be okay." 

"Satoru..." You look up at him again.

"That day, the day we met for the first time your cursed energy was all over the place... it was soft and warm and I wanted to tease you for that, I waited impatiently for you to come near me." Your heart pounding, it squeezes your chest and you think he might have noticed. "But I couldn't say anything, I'm never at a loss for words but being next to you... I could feel your purity and your good intentions, the desire inside you to help others. So I lowered my defenses and let you touch me because I wanted some of the sweet sweet smell of your energy to permeate me, I know you don't remember it because of the euphoria of your fanaticism." He lets out a chuckle. "I haven't let anyone touch me in years and you're the only one to do it again after that day."

Incredulous and short of words you stare at him, stare at him and stare at him again, blinking as if you have all the time in the world to admire him, the sound of the rain pattering against the window competing with the drum that is your heart. Your mouth opens and closes a couple of times before you realize you don't know what to say. Satoru's cheeks are painted red and you've never stopped to feel the effect being near him has on you. 

You push your body close, intoxicated from the moment until your mouth finds his. Warm air seeps out of his mouth in the form of a gasp and reaches your tongue, you have to part your mouth further to let it in and swallow his gasps. 

Tentatively you deposit a kiss on his lips and he growls, you feel his fingers squeeze the fabric of your shirt and grip your skin. Unable to hold you another second not knowing how it would feel to kiss him you join in a slow kiss, you are surprised by the way he uses his tongue to lick your upper lip and touch the tip of yours only to pull back and place a hand behind the back of your neck allowing him to taste you better. 

Your journey with Satoru had been strange. You were his admirer —c'mon, you never stopped being one— then his co-worker and finally his friend. At some point you buried your feelings because you were too busy working on getting better and stronger to earn the place to stand and fight by his side, to earn the respect of the elders, you were sure nothing was going to happen between the two of you. You convinced yourself that you were happy with his friendship and the support that being close to him gave you, it was safe and it felt real... just like this moment. 

Satoru's hands were on your back, then under your shirt directly touching your skin. His fingertips were ice cubes that bristled your flesh, traveling in a sort of massage in all directions as you continued a slow dance, drowning out your mewls with rain and each other's lips. 

When Satoru finally breaks away your lips were slightly swollen, red, the same color as his. There was a dreamy look on your face that you hid by closing your eyelids and biting your lower lip, when you opened them you found that he was still there, hiding behind those sunglasses not really knowing what he was thinking but it was real, he really was here. At least you were sure that had really happened. 

"This thing that just happened," you say, trying to catch your breath. "It won't change my mind about quitting, I hope you know that." 

Satoru snorts a chuckle. 

"We can try a second time." You allow him to move closer to you again, his head cocked to the side taking hold of your lips, sinking his teeth into these. "Or a third." He gives them a little lick. "Or all night, I'm very persistent." 

You join in a shy giggle you both share. Satoru fixes his back and withdraws his hands out of your shirt and you almost miss them immediately, these are now on your face, cradling your cheeks and carving away the tears that managed to spill. 

"I care about you." 

"I know." You sob, your cheeks burning. 

"And I'll be there tomorrow for you and to face any punishment with you," he speaks sweetly, pausing briefly. "You know they don't have to mess with me, though. I'd destroy them in a second for you." Ah, there was the Satoru you knew. 

He leans in once more to kiss you and you think you could get used to this. 

"Should I leave?" he murmurs against your lips. 

"Stay," you say, your knees trembling from the closeness. "I too... I like you too." 

"Oh, I never said I liked you." Satoru smiles mischievously. You shoot him a dagger-filled glare along with a frown that gradually relaxes. 

"Thank you for being here," you sigh. 

"Thanks for letting me do it."

I still can't believe I wrote so much for something that isn't smut, sobs. But I've realized how much fun it is to write different genres and I can't stop. I was going to say something else but totally forgot lolol maybe I'll edit this later.

[thepromptfoundry]

Calling all history nerds, period piece connoisseurs, and fans of time-travel plots! Decades December is coming up here at The Prompt Foundry!

This list is being posted a little earlier than usual because historical work can take some time. The list has some reference points for you to jump off from. Show off your special interest in a particular era or event, or start a wiki walk from the the Wikipedia page for each decade to learn something new!

Have fun exploring resources like @thetimelinesofslang, the Fashion History Timelines from NYSU's Fashion Institute of Technology, or the fashion plates and historical photos from blogs like @omgthatdress or @historical-fashion-polls!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other events! Use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1) 0010s Xin dynasty in China, Caesar Augustus in Rome

2) 1900s Edwardian era, Russo-Japanese War, release of the first feature film The Great Train Robbery

3) 300s Teotihuacan flourishing in present-day Mexico, writing of the Kama Sutra

4) 1910s World War 1, the Russian Revolution

5) 1440s Late Middle Ages/Early Renaissance in Europe, the hangul writing system is introduced in Korea

6) 1920s Prohibition in the US, rise of fascism in Europe, earliest sync-sound movies

7) 0070s Roman Epire, destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, eruption of Mt. Vesuvius and destruction of Pompeii

8) 1930s The Great Depression, the Declaration of the Independence of India, art deco, color film

9) 1090s The First Crusade, the Liao, Xia, and Song dynasties in various parts of China

10) 1810s The Napoleonic Wars, the Regency era in England

11) 1940s World War 2, post-war rebuilding

12) 1000s BC The Iron Age, King David of the Israelites, development of the Phoenician alphabet

13) 1950s Baby Boom, Red Scare, the Korean War, rock'n'roll, zippers and television both become commonplace

14) 1340s The Black Death in Europe, decline of the Mongol Empire

15) 1590s Late Elizabethan Era in Europe, William Shakespeare, Imjin War between Japan and Korea

16) 1960s Moon landing, hippies, mod fashion, Chinese Cultural Revolution, Stonewall, Star Trek, the Civil Rights movement

17) 1770s The American Revolution, founding of the real Illuminati

18) 1860s American Civil War era, late Edo period in Japan

19) 1970s The Sexual Revolution, disco, the first video games, end of the Vietnam War

20) 2200s Whatever the future holds!

21) 1980s End of the Cold War and fall of the Berlin Wall, beginnings of the World Wide Web, the First Intifada in Gaza

22) 1660s Part of the Golden Age of Piracy, the English Restoration

23) 1990s Internet access becomes widespread, grunge, the Gulf War, the Troubles in Ireland, height of the AIDS crisis, Princess Dianna, first Pokemon games

24) 1230s University of Cambridge founded in England, beginnings of the Mali Empire in Africa, rein of Emperor Shijo in Japan

25) 2000s The “War On Terror”, rise of Big Tech, Y2K fashion, emo culture, cell phones become commonplace

26) 1880s Gilded Age, the first skyscrapers, electrification of cities, first household electrical appliances like fans and irons

27) 1640s Qing dynasty begins in China, the First English Civil War

28) 2010s Hipster culture, height of video streaming, YA lit boom

29) 500s Liang and Northern Wei dynasties in China, Heptarchy period in England, height of prosperity of the Mayan Empire

30) 2020s Present day!

31) 3130s Whatever the future holds!

[idiotcurls]

IMAGINE THIS! Eddie is a musician, Steve is studying to become a teacher. Right before Steve's exams, he goes to a cafe to study. The Band arrives to play a gig and Eddie knocks over a glass of water with his guitar case.

Eddie has a up and coming band, they are playing small gigs all around the country. Even though they gathered up quite a following, they still haven't signed to any major label yet. Because they are not posers or whatever. The fans love Corroded Coffin, for the hard sounds with the clever thoughtful lyrics and also due to the fact that Eddie is a very charismatic frontman, who has the allure of an old timey rock star. Steve is sitting in the café, studying for his exams, writing frantically on his laptop, his glasses on the tip of his nose. Since he had a hard time in high school, he still thinks he is less than in the intellectual departmen, which is of course not true. And he has an amazing hand with the kids he is currently teaching, as student teacher. When Eddie and his band arrive at the venue, loud, all dressed in black leather, some instruments carried on their backs, he doesn't even look up. Steve was used to bands playing in the back of the venue. The café and bar area was only separated by a small glass door, so he was usually gone by the time, they got on the stage. But today the weather wasn't exactly on his side, he wasn't going to walk home in the pouring rain, risking a cold. It was too close to exam season. Eddie's hair was dripping wet, some of the droplets are running into his eyes. While Gareth is asking for someone to show them where to set up their stuff, Eddie ventures into the café area, to steal some napkins off a table. When he turns around to leave again, tapping over his eyes, the swing of his guitarcase knocks over a glass of water on a table behind him. Whos table you ask? Why, of course Steve Harrington's. What a terrible coincidence. Steve jumps up, shouting "FUCK" as he gathers up napkins trying to dry up the spilled water on his keypad. Startled by the cussing behind him, Eddie turns around and immediately recognises the damage he had caused. "Oh my god, I'm so fucking sorry, here, I'll get you more napkins, or a towel. Gareth!! Ask the waiter if he has a towel?!" Gareth looks up from his conversation with one of the staff member and just shakes his head in an annoyed fashion. Like Munson was up to some bullshit again and he wasn't going to be part of it.

Eddie is frantically bringing more napkins to the table, furthering Steve's annoyance at him. "Please.. just fucking stop, man." He is wiping his wet hands on his blue jeans looking at the laptop mournfully. "It's already fucking ruined. Shit." Steve sighs and walks around the table, a hand over his mouth, looking at the crime scene, wondering how he could afford another laptop that fast. But that long haired idiot, who knocked over his glass kept on babbling, ignoring the fact that Steve was in the middle of a crisis. "Listen, oh my god, I'm so sorry man. I read, that you shouldn't turn in on for bit after, uh, a spillage. Maybe it will dry? Or maybe we should put some rice on it? Maybe they have rice in the kitchen. Gareth?- My friend Nancy says that is bullshit, but-" "STOP! Please just go away." Steve sounded desprate. Eddie raised his hands in defeat, still holding some Napkins. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm with the band, who plays tonight. You can message us for a refund, or repair.", he says more calmly and walks away. Steve watches the young man walk back to his band members, he assumed, at least. They all wearing the same sort of clothes. "What are you doing with all those Napkins?", Jeff asks bemused. "Just shut up, man." Steve is close to tears. All of his notes and work he already did ahead of time were on the laptop. He did not safe them anywhere else. He grabs his coat and cigarette and leaves the café to have a smoke. If anyone wants to take any of his other stuff, they were free to do so, everything was ruined anyway. He watches the band carry all their amps and instruments in, from a little distance. There was a quick glance exchanged between him and that long haired idiot. He looks like a beaten puppy with those big sad eyes. Shit, now Steve felt like an asshole. Back inside, Steve waited for a while, to turn on his laptop, like the idiot had said. Meanwhile he was texting his best friend Robin the details of the worst evening in his life. She is sympathetic and hopeful, that the gods were in favour of his laptop. And while she didn't think Steve was the villain of the play, he might have been a bit harsh. They guy with the curls didn't do it on purpose, to ruin his life. After a while Steve breaths in deeply and exhales. He presses the on button. The laptops starts. He types in his password. Loading. All of his open tabs and word documents appear. The laptop was alive. He tries to write some words and all the keys work. A sigh of relieve. The gods had mercy on his computer in the end. After thanking the universe, Steve's eyes wander to the other side of the café. Behind the glass door, the band is setting up and starting to do some sound checking with the technician.

The idiot is holding his guitar, strumming a few chords and signing the thumbs up to the tech girl, who nods, looking bored. Now he is singing along to his chords, his eyes closed, like he is feeling the music or something. Steve finds, the idiot has a very beautiful voice. And a handsome face. He sighs. With that new information the apology is going to become even harder. When the band is done soundchecking and Eddie climbs off the stage, bickering and laughing with his band mates, Steve decides to go for it. "You can do this, dingus." pops up on his phone, before he puts it back into his pocket.

When Steve walks up to Eddie, the others are still rumaging around. Before Steve can open his mouth to say a single word, Eddie raises his hand. "Let me stop you there. I talked to the guys. We have a door-deal with the venue. Depending on how much money we make, you can have some of the money to pay for the repair." Eddie chuckles. "Now we just have to pray some people show up." Steve raises his left eyebrow, listening to him. "It's not like theres no people coming to our gigs, it's just that it's raining, and it's a weekday, people are at work..." Eddie is rambling again.

"Hey, can I say something too?" Steve chimes in, stern but not unkind. "Uh, sure." Eddie answers. "My laptop is fine. Everything works. I wanted to apologize for being a dick." Steve takes down his glasses and puts them on the top of his head. "I was just very stressed. You didn't do it on purpose." Eddie looks down and smiles. He seems shy.

"I'm a bit clumsy.... yeah." Steve finds it almost funny, that a guy like him, who just confidently sang on a stage, becomes shy like that. "Well, don't worry about it. I just thought... It's fine." Eddie looks up at him. "Why dont you stay for the set? Be our guest?" Steve does not answer. "I'll put you on my bar-tab. Stay and listen. Here- have a tape." Steve looks at the tape he got handed. "I don't have anything to play this on..." "Don't worry. I'll make it worth your while. Get a drink. We start in 20 minutes." Everything in Steve says, it's better to go home. Sleep and study. But he does stay for the set, to see the charaismatic idiot in action.

and then they fall in love or something.

[blackbat05]

Unexpected Refuge

Detective! Joaquin x Bookstore Owner! Reader

Plot: Your book store is a place of refuge for those seeking knowledge, and shelter?

Genre: PG-13

A/N: K-drama giving me ideas once again. Also SDCC 2024 announcements?!!! Just blew my mind🤯 Excuse me for the poor execution, really wrote this on a whim. Also realized that Joaquin was a character I wrote before I went into a mental health crisis😂 How time flies~ (Tag update because I am a nuisance: @tom-whore-dleston)

The man pants heavily as he darts into the nearest alley. Shouts of anger and thinly veiled threats were getting closer. He’s proud of his stamina but he can’t keep running away from them. He needs to recover his energy.

But where?

A light shines up ahead and without a second thought, the man races towards what could be his potential temporary safehouse.

Bang!

There were no customers inside. Just plenty of books, and a wide-eyed woman blinking at the hurricane of a man that just stormed her store.

He hurriedly digs into the inside of his coat, showing his credentials.

“I’m so sorry, my name is Joaquin Torres. I’m a Detective and it may sound crazy to you but I’m being chased by a group of Gangsters and I could really use some shelter.” His plea comes out in rapid fire.

The poor woman takes a quick look at his badge and for a brief moment, Joaquin believed that she was going to toss him to the dogs.

“This way.” She leads him further into the store and opens a latch on the floor that leads to storage. “In here!” She commands with urgency.

As soon as Joaquin is safely tucked away, she locks the latch and places stacks of books on top of it. The door flies open and the same Gangsters rowdily burst into the store. Joaquin feels a tinge of guilt. He can’t imagine how her store must be tossed upside down thanks to him.

What he didn’t expect was the woman holding her ground and demanding the Gangsters to leave as they apparently ruined one of her newest books that was just bought in.

“And stay out!” She screeches before flipping the sign to inform customers that they were closed for the day.

“Um…” The woman reverts back into her bashful form that Joaquin was amazed at her acting skills. “They’re gone. You can come out now.” The door opens and she helps Joaquin out.

“Thank you.” Joaquin doesn’t know what else to add. His shoes are suddenly very interesting.

“I thought you were lying about being a cop.” Her voice is soft and gentle, causing the insides of his stomach to do a couple of flips. “I guess not. Those guys were scary.” The tension breaks and Joaquin grins at her becoming flustered at the attention he was giving her.

“You can stay here for a while more. To make sure.” She offers.

Joaquin really wanted to. But if he didn’t get back to the precinct. Sam will have his ass.

“I would love to but my partner’s waiting for me. I should probably go.”

She nods in understanding, “Of course. Be careful.” The two walk to the door and she pops her head out to make sure that the coast was clear. She smelled like berries and vanilla.

“Coast clear, officer.”

He liked the way it sounded on her lips. He didn’t want it to be the last time.

“Um… would you like to have dinner sometime?”

She raises her eyebrows in question and Joaquin hurriedly explains, “It’s not what you think! I just wanted to thank you for today. Really. You saved my life. Not many people do that. I usually do most of the saving- I guess I should shut up now.” He observed her amused expression as he continued to ramble.

“Sure. I know a great steak place.”

***

“Hey Barnes! Torres here has a date! Any tips?” Captain Sam Wilson, loud as ever whenever he felt like heckling his best friends follows Joaquin around like a wart on his foot.

“Leave the man alone, Sam.” James Barnes gives him the middle finger. Cool blues turning to Joaquin, “Just be yourself. Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, not exactly reassuring either.

The old fashioned way it is.

Joaquin finds himself standing in front of your bookstore with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He catches your eye and you give him a sign to give you a couple more minutes as you cleaned and locked up the place for the night.

“Thanks for waiting!” You rushed out in sunflower colored dress, looking radiant. He swears his heart thumped loudly against his chest. “I was surprised to get your call.”

“Well, I made a promise.” Joaquin leads the way to the Steak Restaurant where you had the absolute time of your life chatting with the boyish detective in front of you.

“Oh my god! That really happened?” You laughed, tears forming in your eyes. “It seems to be like a recurring thing going on in your team.”

The two of you headed down the street after that sumptuous meal. Your hair is tousled all over the place and you feel like you’ve just ate a whole cow, but Joaquin doesn’t take his attention of you for a second.

As he recounts another mishap during a undercover mission with Sam, a wolf whistle rings through the air and a figure, no- three of them appear from the dark alley, each looking more menacing then the other.

Joaquin’s mind kicks into overdrive instantly and feels you tense up against beside him. He instinctively moves forward to shield you from them. But they’re not blind.

“Look who we found… Detective Joaquin Torres and oh! I see you got company.” The middle one leers at you and Joaquin has the urge to punch it off his face. You give his hand a squeeze, as if to reassure him to do whatever he needs to do to get these suckers.

As quickly and quietly as possible, you take out your pepper spray and ball your fist to conceal it from them.

“How is it that you three assholes show up at the most inconvenient timing?” Joaquin distracts them.

They smirk at each other and Joaquin lunges forward to take the middle and left man onto the ground, leaving the last as easy prey for you to pepper spray him to your heart’s content.

What you didn’t expect was the man to wildly brandish a pocket knife, nicking you in the process as he swings it around.

“Ah!” You hissed loudly, clutching your left hand. Joaquin immediately turns his attention to you and swiftly takes the third man down with ease.

He dials in a number and police cars arrive in no time to take the men away. Joaquin jogs over to you while a uniformed policewoman helps to bandage your hand.

“Let me.” He smiles and thanks his colleague for the efforts and works on finishing the job in silence. You can’t read minds, but you could guess.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” You reassure him.

Joaquin doesn’t say anything. He lets out a small exhale. So you try again.

“In fact, I feel pretty badass. Don’t you think?” You gently pry your hand away and show him your now bandaged hand proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Torres!”

The Captain jogs over, giving a pat on his back. “Came as quickly as I could. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks Sam.” Joaquin reassures. Sam nods, his gaze falling onto you.

“This is the girl you couldn’t stop talking about?”

“Ok, Sam. Stop.” Joaquin pleads, trying to push him as far away from you without much success.

“He was asking me how to impress you! Hey? I didn’t get your name though!” Sam yells over his shoulder, making you laugh at their antics.

“Y/N! I’ll see you around Sam!”

“Oooh I like her already, don’t fuck up Torres.”

“Leave!” Joaquin has to push Sam into the car and makes his way back to you, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, about that. Sam can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”

A pocket of silence fills the air and you have to know.

“You were trying to impress me?”

Joaquin blinks. He momentarily opens his mouth and comically looks like a fish out of water. “Did it work?”

“Well…” You pretend to tap your chin carefully and Joaquin squirms in his shoes a little. “You impressed me the moment you came bursting into my store seeking for shelter.”

You laugh at Joaquin’s groan. “Not the answer that I was expecting.”

You give him a peck on the cheek and Joaquin momentarily freezes. “Is that a better answer?”

He holds his hand to the cheek that you just left a kiss on. For a moment, you’re scared that you’ve fried Joaquin’s internal circuits to respond coherently. But he breaks into a foolishly but adorably big smile.

Joaquin holds you by the waist and brings you closer to him and gives you a kiss of his own that leaves you spinning senseless.

“One hundred percent.”

[marinettesaltprompts]

In Brightest Day (Part 2)

Adrien Sugar x GLtAS (+ a bit of YJ)

Prompt by @somereaderinblue

Viridian meets Kilowag. 

“This is my son.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean, I love him!”

“Was talking to the poozer.”

He was tougher than nails but he never played favourites & he always had Hal’s back. By extension, this meant he had Viridian’s too. He’s by-the-book but he’s also a dad & damn if he’s not unofficially Adrien’s godfather/uncle.

Sure, the Guardians weren’t as receptive, but again, Hal had his back every. Single. Time. There’s also Ganthet who pretty much guessed Adrien was Hal’s & unofficially adopted him as a grandson. He is to Adrien everything Fu wishes he could be.

GLtAS events happen & Viridian is along for the ride. He introduces Aya to anime, cartoons, memes, the works & encourages her to embrace emotions. It’s more awkward with Razer, but one day, the Red Lantern helps him with his homework & they’re discussing abt physics. A week later, Adrien shows off his skills with the staff & Razer teaches him how to throw shuriken.

Adrien mourns Aya’s death & before Razer leaves, he warns him not to lose himself to grief like Gabriel did.

They return to Earth & Hal introduces Adrien to the other sidekicks. Young Justice is formed & during the events of Misplaced, Adrien briefly returns to Paris to help with organization & rescue.

LB doesn’t recognize him until she hears him crack a joke. When she asks, he hesitates too long & she pounces on it like a shark scenting blood. Calls him a coward & a fake unworthy of wearing that ring and showing his face back in Paris and trying to get in her way again.

But Viridian quickly composes himself & even scolds her for acting so unprofessional while they’re in the middle of a global crisis.

All of this is recorded by a bystander & after everything is over, it goes viral. It also doesn’t help that since HM was defeated, LB rarely continued her hero work, opting to focus on her fashion career. Turns out, trying to start a business when you’re barely 15 is harder than it sounds & that the field is a lot more cutthroat than Mari thought. It doesn’t help that Audrey’s forgotten about her. Her new classmates aren’t particularly close to her & her old classmates have left Paris to move on with their life. 

Also, fighting actual hardened criminals who don’t have akumatization as an excuse for their violence is another beast entirely & more than once, she interfered with a police work that resulted in more harm than good. Without the Ladyblog, other blogs have popped up to call her out on her past mistakes, including the mistreatment of CN despite her claims that he’s a joke.

Adrien has Hal, the team & even some Wayne PR lawyers to ensure neither he nor his alter ego are affected in any way. Pitying Mari, he offers to help her smooth things over. She explodes.

“And what do you want in return, a kiss?”

“Not even if you paid me.”

No infatuation, no humour, no nicknames, nothing.

“You must be enjoying this. Heck, you-you planned all this, didn’t you?! For revenge?!”

“How could I plan anything? I’m just a dumb sidekick.”

“And now you’re a suck-up.” 

“And now you’re in hot water with the public. Do you want to get out of it or not?”

She doesn’t. Instead, she demands a spot on the team. She’s frickin’ Ladybug! Hell, she’s not even a sidekick like the rest of them, they should be begging her to join them. She’s the Guardian! She can give them the Miraculous to power them up!

Robin, who deduced LB’s ID in less than a month & took even less time to find footage of Mari stalking Adrien, stealing his phone and even breaking & entering into his property, laughs in her face while the rest of them looked at her in disgust.

Miss Martian later admits to the team that she took a small glimpse into Mari’s mind & was horrified to see the cult grooming Fu put her through, the manipulation the rest of the Order are still putting her through.

Viridian used his constructs to restrain LB & take her earrings. He hands them to Zatana & quietly asks her to put a spell on Mari so she couldn’t spill either of their secrets. The irony of this entire situation was not lost on them.

Su-Han jumps in to snatch the earrings……and leaves Marinette at their mercy. They’d been planning on getting rid of her for a while now, this just sped things up. Him abandoning her was the final straw. Marinette sobbed, whined, bargained, raged at the unfairness of it all & basically acted exactly how she always imagined Adrien would.

Zatana cast the spell & Viridian quietly asked Batman to find a way to enroll Marinette into therapy.

Later, back in Coast City, Hal turns off the TV neither were really watching & asks if he’s okay.

Adrien’s heart hurts a little as he recalls what happened to Mari, his old life & how they still had to stop the Order….but the ring on his finger was warm, the couch he sat on was welcoming & when he looked at Hal, he felt seen, he felt loved.

He tells Hal that he’s okay.

[loremaster]

CHAPTER 0: Stampede on the Amaterasu Express

(fitting that this should be posted on Zilch's birthday! EDIT: it was not in fact fitting because it was not in fact Zilch's birthday. whoever started posting Zilch stuff got me good T_T EDIT AGAIN: It WAS Zilch's birthday - the real one! I was right all along!)

Everything starts out pretty much the same.

A teeny little guy wakes up in a room full of umbrellas and is delighted to learn that his name is Yuma Kokohead. He catches his train at the last minute, but turns out there's an impostor in the room. Uh oh! Who could it be?

Aphex and Pucci use their Quirks Fortes to find out if there's anyone else aboard, and there isn't... but then Pucci hears something. Footsteps. Lots of footsteps, actually. Gaining speed on the Amaterasu Express. Yuma tries to look out a window, but there are none.* Tensions rise.

Aphex wants to head to the control room and stop the train. "So what if we don't know who's out there? I can take 'em!" Zilch disagrees. "You idiot! That's exactly what they want us to think. We're far safer in here. Do you want us to reach our destination alive or not?" Melami sides with Aphex. "This is too suspicious to ignore. I think we should see what the matter is. What if there's someone out there who needs our help? What if... it's a real fashion disaster?" Pucci agrees with Zilch. "If we keep the train running forward, we can wait to confront whatever's out there until the local law enforcement can help us... It's too loud to be any regular person..." Zange remains staunchly neutral. "We wouldn't even be having this discussion if this train had any windows! Damn Amaterasu, trying to show off this pointless automated technology... I bet this whole thing is a trap anyway!"

Meanwhile, Yuma is having an invisible crisis.

And then, from Yuma's perspective:

MYSTERY LABYRINTH TIME!!!!! Yuma explores the train cars with the detectives' belongings here in the ML instead of IRL. After gathering evidence, he is able to deduce that the many footsteps approaching the train are actually not humans, but a stampede of animals, presumably controlled by the real Zilch Alexander. He unmasks the hitman within the Labyrinth and they have a pose-off.

And the true culprit's soul is reaped in dazzling fashion!

But from the other detectives' perspectives...

Zilch literally just drops dead in the middle of an argument.

Melami: "Gasp! Aphex, you killed him!" Aphex: "What the--! I did not!! He fell forward!" Pucci: "...there's no heartbeat... He's... actually dead..." Zange: "That didn't look like heart failure to me." (sending the video footage to his phone)

Now with Aphex's rival out of the way, he, Melami, and Yuma can stop the train and finally see what awaits them outside!

Ohhh yeahhh, that's right. The hitman stole all of Zilch's clothes.

After Zilch strips a corpse and gets his clothes back, they are met at the station by Swank and the Peacekeepers, who are pissed that their boy is dead and also naked. Yakou intervenes as usual, and the whole crew goes to get boba!!!! Yayyyy!!!

*This post was written before I checked a screenshot of the game and realized the dining car DID have windows. Oops. So, either this AU there's no windows, or this is how it goes down instead:

I think even Shinigami could solve this one.

NEXT: PROLOGUE

[raplinesmoon]

Just Jin (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: Barbie!reader x Ken!Seokjin genres/au/rating: angst (with a happy ending!), fluff, Barbie au, break-up au, PG-13 summary: After a trip to the real world, you and Jin both come to a realization that will change your lives forever.

warnings: break-ups, sadness, existential crisis, mentions of doctor's appointments

word count: 1.5k

a/n: I'm still working on mafia!Hoseok but listen my brain has been wired since I came out of the Barbie movie earlier today. It legitimately changed me as a person, and I felt inspired to create this bc I think Jin gives off such Ken energy. This is based on but also slightly altered from the Barbie movie, and as such, it will contain massive spoilers for the movie, so read at your own risk (go see the movie tho)! Anyways this was just a fun, goofy indulgent drabble that made my heart warm, and I hope you enjoy!

Tip-toeing through the dream house, you try to ignore the sensation of your feet cramping. After learning the wonders of being flat-footed, standing on your heels was no joke. No wonder women in the real world complained about wearing stilettos all the time. But right now wasn’t about the pain women felt to conform to societal expectations of beauty. There were centuries to go before those outdated notions of what it meant to be a successful woman were squashed. Right now, there was something more pressing you had to deal with.

Things had changed since you left. The dream house seemed more like a nightmare, its pristine pink walls besmirched with posters of sports icons and various forms of taxidermy. You frown to yourself. This wasn’t the house you’d known. The life you’d lived before with Jin seemed nothing more than a distant memory, both of you tainted by your experiences in the real world.

Jin. Speaking of him, you knew you had to find him. When you’d learned from the others that he’d gone off the rails, worry clouded your mind. Not just for him, but for all the others – Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook too. They were all so impressionable, more fragile than they let on. It scared you to think of the state you might find him in right now. And that’s when you hear it.

The sound is muffled, but you can barely make it out against the quiet that nightfall brings. It’s a choked sob, guttural and raw in its devastation. And it’s coming from your bedroom. Ignoring the newfound feeling of your heart clutching in your chest, you square up your shoulders, ready to face what lay ahead. And then you head upstairs.

The door creaks as it opens, and you flinch, hoping the sound won’t give away your entry into the room. But there’s no response. Feeling braver, you push it wider and gasp at the state of everything. For all the horses and saloon decorations Jin had implemented downstairs, the upstairs of your dream house is pristine. Exactly untouched the same way you’d left it. The pearls on your lampstand glisten in the moonlight, the walls are free of garish posters, and the same plush pink and purple sheets adorn your bed. And in the middle of it, Jin lies facedown, unmoving.

Freezing, you take him in, noticing how small he looks right now, curled up into himself. Jin had always been larger than life – his windshield wiper laugh echoing down the entire beach, his dad jokes catching the admiration of everyone around him, a smile plastered onto his stupidly handsome face with those perfectly pouty lips. He’s wearing the same sleeveless denim outfit you’re always used to seeing him in, unlike the other boys, who’d bought into new and more trendy fashions. 

If he feels the bed dip when you sit next to him, he doesn’t show it. You finally reach for him, pressing a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“Jin?” you whisper softly. “It’s me.”

He doesn’t move. Your heart sinks, knowing how difficult this was for both of you. But you needed to do this.

“Can we please talk?

That’s what gets him to rise, silky black hair disheveled and eyes rimmed with the red of his tears.

“What could you possibly want to talk about?” he croaks out, sniffling into his sleeve. “Everything is ruined.”

The same guilty feeling bubbles up in your chest, knowing part of him is right. Everything had been ruined. But not in the way you’d expected. When you and Seokjin had entered the real world, you’d been unprepared to have your lives change forever. No matter how much you tried to pretend that things could just go back to the same way they’d been before, they couldn’t. And both of you knew it.

“I’m sorry Jin,” you let out a sob of your own. “I never meant for things to turn out this way.”

Jin hardens at your sobs, straightening up, the sadness on his face morphing into a mask of fury.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?!” he bellows. “Sorry doesn’t cut it! This was supposed to be our dream house, ___! That's why I went through all the stupid decorations and the revamp! You think I like saloons? No! But this was supposed to be our dream! Us, together! It’s always been ___ and Jin. I don’t know how to be anything without you! I don’t want anything to change. I love you!”

You embrace his trembling body, pulling it in close to yours.

“I love you too Jin. I always have, and I always will. But I’m not sure that love is enough anymore.”

Jin pulls away from you, and you watch his eyes widen in surprise, giving you the strength to go on.

“When we were out there, something changed. I realized that while what we had was perfect, it’s okay to not be perfect all the time. Not everything is a dream come true. Sometimes things don’t turn out the way you want them to, and that’s life. A-and I want to experience life Jin. I’m sick of just smiling all the time. I want to cry, I want to scream, I want to laugh. And I want that for you too.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you,” Jin breathes out softly. “It feels like I failed you.”

“Hey,” you reach out to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You didn’t fail me, or anyone else, okay? You’re enough. Maybe it’s time for us to stop being ___ and Jin. And to be just ___. And just Jin.”

He looks up at you, stars in his eyes, and you can see the sadness intertwined with hopefulness. “You really think we can find something better out there? Something that makes leaving this all behind worth it?”

You take his hand in yours.

“I know we can. And we will. But we can’t do it together. At least not right now.”

A tiny smile breaks out onto his face. “But maybe someday?”

You hesitate, not wanting to believe in false hope only to turn out devastated in the end. But Jin needed something to believe in. And so did you.

“Maybe someday, when we both have found out what makes us happy, what our reason is to live, we’ll find love again. We both deserve it.”

And Jin crumples for a second time in your arms that night, only this time it’s not from devastation. It’s the kindness in your voice that has him desperately believing that you could be right. That maybe someday both of you would figure out what these strange and complex emotions were - joy, happiness, fun. And real love. True love. They were, after all, what being a human was all about.

You thank the taxi driver, hopping out of the vehicle. Flexing your feet, you remark at how comfortable the new pink slides feel on them, your heels no longer arched and uncomfortably cramping. The sales associate had called them Birkenstocks, and you make a mental note to go back and buy a few other colors. 

The building is tall, sleek and modern not unlike the scary headquarters of some rich corporation that seeks to swindle the money of innocent consumers. But today, you’re not scared to go inside this building. You’re excited.

The excitement follows you up the elevator, a smile on your face. Hearing the ding! for your floor, you make your way out, when you’re stopped by the old woman next to you.

“You have a beautiful smile, dear.”

That only makes it grow wider.

“Thank you, you look beautiful too.”

You don’t know why, but the serene and dazed look on her face stays with you as you enter the glass doors to the office.

Making your way to the front desk, you practice the carefully rehearsed lines in your head. When you reach it, the receptionist is tapping away at the keyboard. 

“Hi!” You say brightly. “My name is ___ ____. I’m here for my gynecologist appointment!”

The receptionist finally peers out from behind the screen and you suck in a breath. Something about him seems so familiar. Broad shoulders, pouty lips, dark hair. But in your entire human life, you never recalled seeing him before. The weird sense of deja vu continues when he opens his mouth to speak.

“Nice to meet you, ___, and welcome to Bangtan Center for Women’s Health. My name is Ken Seokjin and I’ll be happy to help you get checked in today!”

You don’t know why you flush at his words, but you fidget with your fingers behind your back, hoping he can’t see you.

“Great Mr. Ken! It’s my first time here, so I’m kind of nervous.”

“Just call me Jin,” he smiles. “I’m happy to help out.”

He pauses for a moment, ears turning red, before continuing on:

“Say, you look really familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”

“I was wondering the same thing,” you grin, before faltering. “But I don’t think so.”

“Well in that case, it’s nice to meet you again.” He reaches out over the counter, offering his hand, and you don't hesitate before enveloping it in yours, shivering at its warmth.

“Nice to meet you as well, just Jin.”

a/n pt. 2:  I realize this kind of deviated from the movie and some of its themes, but I had to make it work with their relationship hehe. As always, any comments or feedback are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi &lt;3

[x-digitaldollhouse-x]

For the Simply Lilac BC by @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants: Avery Nguyen!

Name: Avery Nguyen Age Group: Young Adult (25ish) Pronouns: They/He/She Orientation: Pan Hometown: Del Sol Valley Occupation: ??? Skills: None <3 Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Self-Absorbed Aspiration: Bestselling Author Life State: Human Likes: Writing, Fitness, the color black, Alternative Music Dislikes: Cooking Gifts: A book of poetry, a low-quality painting, some frog they found outside Misc.: One-star celebrity, but can easily fade into obscurity pre-show, if desired.

In Depth: A few months ago, this Del Sol rich kid was Simsta influencer royalty. Born into excessive wealth, Avery never lifted a finger a day in their life and found success as a fashionable and enviable social media star, not even bothering to seek nepotism employment at the family company.

That's a good thing, though, because said family company recently came under investigation for some real shady practices. Long story short, Avery's parents are in prison now. A pretty nice prison for rich people, but still, prison. And now Avery's funds are rapidly dwindling.

With this recent development, Avery entered an existential crisis: is their entire life superficial and meaningless? Are they totally incapable of creating something with value? Does the entire world think they're a spoiled, useless brat?

Currently: yes, yes, and yes. But now they're hard at work reinventing themself! Now they have a new haircut, and they wear all black, and they paint their own nails instead of getting weekly manicures, and they listen to alternative radio! They're literally sooooo cool and genuine and authentic and REAL guys seriously they SWEAR. And they don't care about money-- no, they care about ART. Avery wants to be a poet now, and they're ready to prove to the world that they're a creative genius with a romantic, awe-inspiring soul. They think that an artist like Lilac is their perfect match, and they can't wait to bond over how EQUALLY talented and amazing they both are. And they can TOTALLY survive by catching and foraging and cooking all their own food in the middle of nowhere, why do you even ask???

For The Watcher:

Flirting with other contestants ✔

WooHooing other contestants ✔

Flirting with/and or woohooing NPCs ✔

Flirting with the host ✔

Changes to traits via gameplay prompts ✔

Becoming an occult ✔

Download link available via DM :)

[romancomicsblog]

Stop Muting Superman

It has been a very good time to be a Superman fan.

Although many fans of Henry Cavill were disappointed with DC recasting and taking the studio in a new direction, the long awaited Snyder Cut did give us more of that version of the character. The CW's version of Big Blue Boy Scout has had a very solid run with Superman and Lois, giving my favorite live-action version of the character. And of course, My Adventures with Superman has been a giant success, getting an early Season 3 Renewal in the middle of its second season.

To top it all off, next year we will be getting a new version in live action, with James Gunn Directing/Writing the project. And while production has been kept under wraps heavily, through word of mouth, Gunn's track record, and fan hopefulness, many believed we'd be getting a much brighter, comic accurate cheerier version of the character. One that embodies truth, justice and a better tomorrow.

So many fans much like myself were disappointed when we got our first glimpse of Superman like this:

Now, before I get critical, I will say there are things I like about the suit. The S is fun, I like the boots, the neck is interesting, the hair fantastic and of course, he's got the speedo. Good on ya Gunn.

But this suit is so dark. It's very reminiscent of the Man of Steel look, almost too much. It doesn't give off hope. The image actually feels like Superman is annoyed he has to go to work at all. Personally, I think it's a bad first look image in general, even before I have my problems with the suit.

And all that I said about his character can still be true. This image doesn't necessarily tell the tone of the film or this version of Clark Kent. This may not even be his final suit, it may just be the suit we see him in in the beginning of the film.

But it definitely feels that ever since Superman Returns, the Superman suit particularly in live action has taken on this muted tone.

Now this in not an inditement of any version of the character. I like most versions, particularly Tyler Hoechlin and Brandon Routh. But often times their performances of hopefulness and kindness are working despite their suits, as opposed to the suit embodying that mentality.

In fact, both of them are lifted up incredibly when given the proper suits. Take Routh. He was given the opportunity to return to the role of Superman in Crisis on Infinite Earths, an Arrowverse crossover. In it he plays a much older Superman, with a suit based on Kingdom Come and it is INCREDIBLE:

While it contains dark elements like the black S, it's Blue and Red are vibrant elevating him not only among people, but among heroes. Simple tweaks with color make him much more believable as Superman, and way more fun to look at.

Next let's take Hoechlin, my favorite version of the character. While his charm and kindness plays through, most of the show he wears a very muted suit, to go along with the general aesthetic of the show.

While it's a great suit, the muted feel's more grey than blue, he seems more beaten down by time then he is.

Now take his original suit in the show, when he is first staring out.

While the S can use a little work, changing up the color makes him feel a little corny, simpler and like a comic character of old. Yes he feels old fashioned and safe, but that's how Superman is meant to feel. Comforting, fun, and hopeful.

These darker versions of the suit often make Superman out to be more of a threat, which is why there doesn't feel like a definitive version of the character. Yes it makes for good drama, but it misses the point of Superman. A point animation tends to understand:

At his core, Superman is good. He is a simple farm boy, trying to do good. He's not a cursed messiah, he's not a hero worn down by earth, he's not this incredible isolated outsider. He's human, he's loving, and he's careful. He is the embodiment of a better tomorrow. We need to start letting his look express that.

Yes he will look silly, yes he will look corny. But he will be Superman.

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider following, and check out my socials and other sites here! And let me know: What do you think of the new Superman suit?

[kousaka-ayumu]

MILGRAM Headcanons part 1

🪽Es🪽

They're a clean freak.

You're local sweet tooth.

They refused to admit it, but they'll like it when Shidou and Kazui acted fatherly towards them.

Slightly terrified of Kotoko after T2

Asahina Mafuyu 2.0.

Always look ethereal when sleeping.

Has severed attachment issues, want to trust the prisoners but couldn't whenever Jackalope was around.

Is influenced by Fuuta to say swear words, due to Shidou and Kazui's dismay.

Wonder what life would've been like if they we're never the prison guard and ended up meeting the prisoners in a different way.

Lowkey blind to Muu having a crush on them.

Making sure no one caught them singing and humming the prisoner's songs.

Failed to notice that their personality is influenced by the bell.

Is the living embodiment of Sleeping Beauty.

💧Haruka💧

Has abandonment issues.

Is possessive of his mom's necklace.

Couldn't tell the difference between good attention and bad attention.

Doesn't know he has a naturally good singing voice.

His °O° face is like a fish.

His favorite song is Shoujo Rei

He's like a child stuck in a teenage body.

He has earrings, it was a gift from Muu.

Found family with Fuuta, Es, Shidou, Kazui, Kotoko and Amane.

Rivals with Jackalope.

🌸Yuno🌸

Knew that some of the prisoners are destroying themselves, planned on telling Es later.

Knew something about Kotoko's crime.

Lesbian but didn't know.

Teasing the fuck out of the other prisoners guilty or innocent, doesn't matter.

Is fed up with Muu's simping for Es and Es being blind towards her.

Doing manicures with Muu and Mahiru during T1.

Absolutely jealous of Kotoko's figure.

Is doing what ever she likes.

Don't want to be treated like a child.

One of the few who wasn't afraid of Kotoko.

Is fishy about Jackalope.

🔥Fuuta🔥

The only "sane" Twitter user

Lied about not being afraid of Kotoko

Is insecure about his shark teeth

Hates being called BBG

Has heard both of his songs and is proud of it.

Is an absolute short king.

Middle finger towards Mikoto.

Loved ninja shows since he was a kid

He did a lot embarrassing stuff since he was a teenager.

Met Kotoko but didn't remember her.

Sees Amane as a younger sister.

Hates the fuck out of Jackalope.

Dreams of being tall like Kotoko.

Is the one who memed Kotoko's crime but wasn't aware it was her.

🐝Muu🐝

Gay disaster since meeting Es

Acted like the tallest in her old friend group, is the 2nd shortest.

Saw Rei in Es.

A bit afraid of Kotoko.

Looks dumb, is intelligent.

Former Bee Queen

Has read a lot of fairy tale stories since she was a kid.

Sees Jackalope as a rabbit.

🏥Shidou🏥

He didn't trust Jackalope, not one bit.

Cleaned up the messes that Kotoko caused in T2

Saw his kids within Es and Amane, and wife within Kazui.

Saw his dead patients within Kotoko

He's haunted from what he has done.

Became a father figure to Es

He's bisexual.

Is perfect at singing, from singing lullabys to his kids.

Is bad at cooking.

Is popular with girls back in high school, but is oblivious.

His wife's name is Hana.

🧡Mahiru🧡

Also bisexual.

Is good at both cooking and baking.

The residential sweetheart.

The rich aunt that everyone loves.

Is stuck between a wife and a fashion designer.

In a fashion trio with Muu and Yuno.

Accepted John as her friend.

Her view of love is different from everyone else.

⛈️Kazui⛈️

Act like an ancient old man, even though he's 39 years old.

Is the calm one in a calm(him and Shidou), too much energy(Fuuta), tired energy(Es and Amane), normal energy(Kotoko) and anxiety energy(Haruka) found family

Tried and gave love advice to Muu once and failed.

Doesn't understand the word "DILF" and "MILF"

Has sexuality crisis

Unintentionally make Kotoko and Es uncomfortable.

Embodiment of a gentle giant.

Amane, Mikoto, and Kotoko

[phantomskeep]

Putting the "Fun" Back in "Funeral" - Chapter 1

AO3 Link | Next Chapter

Chapter One: Furries, Cannibalism, and... The Goonion?

Danny sometimes wished he could travel through time. Don’t get him wrong! He knows the danger of messing up the time stream (Dan, Desiree, and Clockwork all taught him that much) but there are still times when he would sit on top of a building, staring at the stars, wondering what he would change given half the chance.

Currently, however, he was debating on his life choices while very much not on a rooftop.

White gloved hands shakily grasped broken concrete, slowly lifting his beaten body out of a crater in the middle of some random street. The latest ghost who had decided to try their hand at using Danny as a punching bag was one that he hadn’t encountered before. His usual roster of ghostly enemies still came by, of course. They all visited Amity Park at least once a week - if not more. However, the ghostly entity that Danny was currently facing? He had never seen them.

It was something that had been occurring more and more often. A random ghost would show up, declare a challenge against Danny, and inevitably lose.

As Danny raised himself out of his impromptu resting place, he considered the being before him. Dark, void black skin and fur greeted him. The ghost’s face was an odd cross between a horse’s and a dog’s - a long, block-shaped snout with a mouth reaching right up to under their dark red eyes. Pointed ears flicked wildly back and forth between a long mane that reached just up until the collar of the ghost’s thick golden necklace. The ghost’s choice of clothes baffled the white-haired man greatly; black dress shirt and bright, gaudy golden skinny jeans? Really? Who died and thought that was a good fashion choice?

Yeah, Danny was just as baffled.

The other ghost looked down at the young halfa, “I cannot fathom how you are the one Hotep described to me.” He sneered, clearly mocking Danny. “The great Akuris will easily defeat such a pathetic child.”

Danny gasped, mock-offended. “Well, Mr Tall Dark And Barks A Lot, I will have you know that at least I don’t dress like an accountant in the middle of a mid-life crisis.” He smirked before resting a soul-piercing green glare at the larger ghost floating above where Danny stood. “Or would it be mid-afterlife crisis?”

With that, Danny leapt back into action. He swung a powerful punch directly into Akuris’ long muzzle, causing the dark ghost to be pushed back. Amity Park’s ghostly hero did not relent on his assault, though. Danny followed the other ghost’s backwards momentum to bodily slam into his opponent’s soft belly in a move he often saw Dash pull during his football practices. The twenty-year-old halfa quickly grabbed the Fenton thermos off of his belt loop, taking the opportunity to finally capture the winded ghost.

A great sigh left Danny’s body as he hovered in the air, surveying the damage leftover from the fight between the two. It was well around two in the morning, judging by the placement of the twinkling stars. With a jolt, Danny remembered that today was the day of his coronation - exactly five years after he defeated Pariah Dark.

Originally, Danny had been told he was technically king of the Ghost Zone in the aftermath of the battle. The young ghost had argued with the mysterious time-themed ghost named Clockwork who had appeared and was successfully able to get a five-year grace period of kingly procrastination.

Since then, Danny had grown up a little bit. He defeated his alternate evil self, discovered new powers, traveled through time on Clockwork’s request, graduated high school, took a “gap year” to focus solely on fighting ghosts, and successfully never let his parents or the world know about his ghostly half. All in all, Danny considered it a successful time.

All good things must come to an end, though, the half-ghost thought as he kept staring dejectedly at the stars so far away. He knew that even though he probably should tell his parents what was going on, but the fear of everything going wrong lurked in the back of his mind. After the events of Dan, the young man pulled away from his parents’ bit by bit. It was grief that drove Danny to rip out the most vulnerable parts of himself, after all. If he had nothing to grieve about then he would never be pushed into doing something as drastic as destroying the world, right?

Jazz disagreed very heavily with his mentality, but he was fine with that.

Another sigh left the poor halfa’s body, and he re-hooked the Fenton Thermos to his belt loop. He might as well go back home to continue to lick his wounds before he had to, unfortunately, be crowned king. What a shitty Tuesday.

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ 

Later that day, at exactly three in the afternoon, Danny Phantom walked through the ghost portal in his parent’s basement. It felt almost like he was walking towards his own death - a quiet, somber affair with very little fanfare. Danny had made sure no one knew what he was up to; Sam, Tucker, and Jazz all had their own lives to worry about. He was sure that the three of them would give Danny the ass-kicking of the century for making them miss such a big milestone in Danny’s life, but…

Well, from the walk-through of the coronation his ghostly mentors laid out for him, Danny was sure this would not be a pretty affair.

Danny pulled himself from his musings as he stared into the deep green abyss in front of him. The young, white-haired ghost tilted his head forward, letting gravity take hold as the man fell into the Zone like a sort of twisted, backwards Baptism.

Useless lungs pulled in the ambient ectoplasm streaking through the air of the Infinite Realms. A parade of ghosts were waiting for him on the other side, lines of his soon-to-be subjects chanting his name. Ectoplasm-green eyes darted across the various ghosts lining the young king’s path, quickly registering those he knew and didn’t. Many of them wore clothing from various different eras, some seemingly dressed to impress their new ruler. Danny spotted one ghost in particular wearing what looked like a bedazzled bathrobe next to one whose long hair seemed to be braided into their dress. Some of the others who were cheering him on were more animal-like than Danny had come to expect, or were even completely non-humanoid. The odd shadow of a ghostly whale loomed over Danny as he turned his awed face upwards to watch the giant creature sail easily overhead with Young Blood’s pirate ship alongside it. Many loud cheers were heard from the ghostly child’s crew and large booms echoed across the infinite green surrounding them as cannons were fired. Smaller marine afterlife followed closely behind, easily marking the trail Danny had to follow to arrive at his official coronation spot with their different, bright colors. 

Even though Danny had gone over what he was supposed to do with his council, he still hesitated a little in the face of all the excited residents of the Zone. He knew, logically, that many were excited for him to take the crown. King Phantom’s reign was projected to be one of peace among the Realms, after all. However, seeing it? All of the souls - passed or created - of the Ghost Zone cheering for him?

Well, it made his core swell with a frosty sense of pride-I did this-they are safe-protect my people. It filled him with a feeling lighter than air and full of confidence, like he was actually making a good choice for once in his half-life.

Danny slowly started moving forward, waving at the Zone’s inhabitants, talking to those he knew. Pariah’s old castle had been slowly moving closer to where the Fenton Portal usually floated in the great expanse of the Realms. What used to be a two-hour flight was now closer to a little under an hour’s walk. So while Danny originally complained to Frostbite about how he didn’t want to slowly make his way there, he realized now the giant ice ghost was probably right when he said Danny’s stroll from his old haunt to his new one would seem faster than ever. It certainly didn’t feel like much time had passed at all when Danny finally laid eyes on the large, ugly castle that was going to be his.

Danny’s first order as king? Tear that eyesore down. Ew.

The thought made the young king snicker quietly, before slightly turning his head to eyeball the thousands of ecto-entities at his back. He scanned the ever-growing crowd under the watchful eyes of his various mentors. He could pick out Ember, Lydia, even that ghost who fought him that morning - Akuris? -, and so many more of his various frenemies watching Danny. 

The young man picked his methodical float back up to his new haunt. He could just barely see the figures bobbing at the front doors to the royal eyesore, though he could pick each of the Ancient ghosts out easily. Danny felt his core thrum nervously inside his chest, seeming almost like a heart with just how harshly it pulsed. Underneath his gloves, the white-haired ghost felt sweat start to form. But Danny kept making his way down to the landing where many ghosts were waiting for him to be officially crowned as king.

Danny really, really hoped he wouldn’t make an absolute fool of himself.  

As Danny looked up at the stoic figure of Clockwork, the various Ancient Ghosts fanned out beside the Master of Time: Frostbite had a goofy smile on his large face, Pandora wore a proud smirk, Ghost Writer was almost sneering at him as the smaller ghost floated next to his peers. Vortex was grudgingly gazing at the inhabitants of the Realms with his large arms crossed, and, finally, Undergrowth was completely ignoring Danny. Fright Knight, while not an Ancient, was standing alongside the various mentors Danny had throughout the years. Behind the Ancients floated many of the Observants, who gazed upon the Zone with an air of collective anticipation.

Taking a small step, Danny finally presented himself to the various ghosts looming over his much smaller figure. The halfa gave Clockwork a nervous smile, only to receive a tiny nod from the much older ghost. With an awkward about-face, Danny fully faced the entirety of the Ghost Zone steadily. He felt it when Clockwork stepped up to be next to Danny, the Ancient staying in his middle-aged form to address the Infinite Realms and her inhabitants.

“People of the Realms,” Clockwork started, his voice booming over the quickly quieting chatter. “Today is a new dawn for us. Five years ago, Danny Phantom defeated King Pariah Dark through single combat - sealing the King back into his Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. This was a task that the Ancients ourselves struggled to complete in years past,” the blue ghost paused, resting a comforting hand on Danny’s (totally not shaking) shoulder. “And as our laws state, upon the defeat of the previous Ruler of the Realms the new King must take the final step into rulership by consuming all that remains of the preceding Crowned Head.”

Even though Danny knew it was coming, hearing those words out of Clockwork’s mouth made him shudder all the same. When he turned to face Clockwork the young halfa could feel Clockwork’s concern radiating off of him, even as he still went through the process of accepting the box holding Pariah Dark’s core from Frostbite. Danny tried to focus on the box - dark red with black trims, how nice - instead of what he was about to do. This was another part of the whole “you’re going to be king” schtick that Danny complained about greatly.

Eating another person, even if that person was technically a ghost, just felt so wrong to the halfa. Unfortunately, as Clockwork opened the sparsely decorated box, Danny was about to have to become a (technical) cannibal.

Yay.

The white-haired young man cupped his hands like he had practiced weeks prior. Clockwork gently lifted the swirling pearl to place in Danny’s waiting hands. Pariah’s core, despite holding one of the nastiest beings Danny had the unfortunate luck to meet, was honestly a thing of beauty. Dark reds dueled with lighter pinks, with small bubbles of fire and electricity leisurely swirling amidst it all, deep inside the older ghost’s core. Danny almost wanted to shake it to see if it would swirl like a snow globe.

Danny hesitates for a second, glancing up at Clockwork. The ancient being floated patiently, deep red eyes boring into Danny’s own. Ectoplasm-filled air passed through the halfa’s chest as Danny carefully rolled the pulsing core onto one gloved hand, slowly bringing it to his mouth. A shudder racked Danny’s body as he quickly dropped the warm rock-like core onto his extended tongue before hurriedly swallowing it whole.

For a brief moment, Danny only felt the dizzy sensation of nausea before a blinding surge of raw power burst through his chest. His core was practically vibrating with uncontained energy and felt like it was going to push through his chest like some sort of alien baby in a shitty horror movie. The sharp sensation of pain took over Danny’s entire world, his eyes open but unseeing.

It felt like hours had passed by the time the young half-ghost’s thought process was restored. He groggily blinked, attempting to focus on the present. Strength flowed through Danny’s veins - which he dutifully ignored in favor of looking up towards the oppressing castle behind himself. The keep itself was barely shaking, little pieces of rubble spilling into the greenish fog surrounding it. A pulse rushed through Danny’s core and he was in awe as he watched the depths of the Zone light up in tandem. A shaky hand reached up to clutch at the stylized letter displayed on the halfa’s chest - Danny could feel the Zone around himself. Trying not to panic, knowing that Clockwork said this was totally normal, young Danny, he managed to give his mentor a shaky nod.

The other ghost continued on with his speech, like the last few minutes hadn’t happened. Taking a large, glowing green skull ring from the steady hands of Undergrowth, Clockwork spoke. “With the core consumed, King Phantom will bear the Ring of Rage with a fair and just hand.”

Danny held his quivering right hand forward, watching as the older ghost slowly slid the ghostly artifact over his ring finger. Holding his breath, Danny waited. He fully expected the ring to reject him - who would put him in charge of an entire realm, after all? When the sharp sting of electricity never came, the halfa let out the smallest sigh of relief. His eyes met Clockwork’s own, earning a smile in response.

When Danny casted his gaze back onto the ectoplasm colored jewelry, he was shocked to note the colors and overall shape of it had changed. Before he had the chance to further inspect it, he was interrupted. 

“The Ring of Rage is coupled with the Skeleton Key,” Clockwork continued as Ghost Writer presented the glowing key to the other ghost, “and is used to access the many realms connected to our own. The Key allows our Crowned Head to reach any of his subjects in their times of need.” With that, Clockwork waved his hand in front of the artifact. When the key was back in Danny’s view, he could see it was attached to a sturdy-looking chain. The young man ducked his head, letting Clockwork slip the necklace over his head.

Clockwork turned to face Pandora, who was holding a flaming green crown in her hands. He gently took the headwear, before meeting Danny’s eyes. “And finally, to fully become Ruler of the Infinite Realms - Land of the Dead, the Eternal Plains, the Place Between, Heaven and Hell - a crown built from the fires of her core must be placed onto the brow of the Realm’s Chosen. King Phantom, kneel before the people you are to rule and accept this great burden for them. Feel their cores with your own, their obsessions alongside your own, and the Realm will fully accept you as her Crowned.” Gingerly, Danny dropped to his knees like he had practiced. He bowed his head, closing his eyes and waiting for the Crown of Fire’s weight.

When the warm metal touched his head, Danny felt the Zone shudder. As a bright light eclipsed Danny’s form, he could feel the metal on top of him change. In fact, as the young king tried to focus on his newest headgear, he could tell he was no longer wearing the white hazmat suit he died in.

The light faded and Danny took stock of himself. Monochrome rubber had turned into fancy-looking black pants tucked into armored white boots, a tight-fitting white shirt with his logo in black blazed across his chest, and a heavy-fitting cloak wrapped around himself. Danny wanted to inspect himself more - but the feeling of the Zone pulsing through his core brought Danny’s attention to the cheering of the thousands of ghosts around himself.

Danny was flooded with the feelings of happiness-hope-rejoicing-euphoria from around him. The Zone quaked, pulsing purple lights blooming across the infinite green void surrounding its inhabitants. A smile cracked its way across Danny’s face, and he didn’t even try to hide it as he faced his subjects. The speech Ghost Writer drilled into his head fled Danny, and for just a second he floundered. Before he could drown in the bottomless pit that was his brain, another pulse of pure hope shot through his veins.

Feeling like he was drugged, Danny spoke around his smile. “When I was a kid,” he started, “I never could have imagined becoming the King of anything. All I wanted to do was go to space, to see the stars watching over me.” He let out a laugh. Usually, these days, when Danny laughed it was world-weary and bitter. Now, high on the feeling of hope, his laugh was one of joy. “Now look at me! Look at yourselves! We’ve all come so far - and I promise to protect each and every one of you. I will be your star - your light in the dark, your guide to a better future.”

“You are the people of the Infinite Realms, and it is my promise to forever keep you all safe.”

The ghosts of the Zone cheered for him. Pandora flanked Danny’s right side, Clockwork on his left. A cold presence at his back told the new king that Frostbite was behind him. Danny could only assume the other Ancients were also surrounding him, but he didn’t dare look away from the mingling bodies before himself. As one, the Ancient Ghosts let their cores hum, speaking in a language known only to those of the Zone. Before him, Danny’s subjects joined in until a swelling song of hope-peace-happiness-new era flooded his senses, leaving the young halfa to float endlessly in the feeling of pure acceptance.

That day, as a chapter of the Ghost Zone’s history ended and a new one began, a song of hope touched the many universes attached to it.

ヾ( ･`⌓´･)ﾉﾞ

Jason’s day was going pretty okay, so far. He woke up a little before noon, made himself some breakfast, worked out for a few hours, and managed to read an entire three pages of a book before he got a call from his siblings about a potential drug bust. A majority of them had recently began working on chipping away at the increasing amount of drug trading going around Gotham. Ever since Red Hood had taken a step back from his self-appointment crime lord duties, other criminals have been attempting to fill in his shoes. It usually ended in one of Gotham’s various vigilantes drop-kicking said criminals into a wall, but still. Criminals were the worst kind of weed.

So with a grumble that was half for show and half pure annoyance at being interrupted, the man suited up and made a stealthily exit out his window. Apparently he had a pre-”Curbstomping the Newest Pain in His Ass of the Week” meeting to attend with a handful of the Wayne family.

Jason can only hope he doesn’t get stuck with the annoying ones for this.

His day was still going pretty well after the initial run-down of the game plan when he and Dick, who was decked out in his Nightwing wear, finally landed on top of a warehouse’s unstable roof. They were near the edge of Crime Alley and Robbinsville, closer to the docks than Jason’s usual patrol routes brought him. Based off of Oracle and Red Robin’s joint intel, a large shipment of illegal drugs was being delivered to the Iceberg Lounge sometime after dusk. The issue came up when the question of how the drugs were going to be transferred from wherever they were stored to Penguin’s business front.

Which is where the Batkids came in, apparently.

“Comms check,” Oracle started. “Nightwing, sound off.”

“Comms confirmed, reading you loud and clear!” The older vigilante chirped from where he was stretching lazily. “Red Hood?”

Red Hood sighed, speaking up. “All good. Red Robin?”

“Also reading loud and clear. Orphan?”

Three taps cut across the comms, letting the other four know their sister could hear them all. “Awesome,” Oracle started. “Plan A is ready on Red Robin’s signal. Remember - do not engage.”

Hood slowly rose from his crouch, shaking his hands out before letting them rest on the many holsters strapped to his body. “How many times is she going to say something like that?” He stated, words practically oozing sarcasm. “Every single time we somehow manage to still end up in a shoot-out.” 

The crime lord could practically see Red Robin’s eyes rolling, “And who’s fault is that, Mr. Emotional Support Guns?”

“Shut it, Replacement,” the Hood growled.

He lazily turned to look at Nightwing, a challenging grin hidden behind the red helmet protecting his face. “Race you, Dickface.” Hood stated before turning east and leaping off the roof in a burst of speed. The helmeted man ignored his brother’s sputtering protests as he tried to keep the small gap forming between the two while they parkoured to the docks in one of the most eastern parts of Gotham.

Jason wanted to laugh, to revel in the feeling of messing around with his older brother. Despite all the bad blood still looming between the rest of the Wayne clan (adopted, blood, “family friends” or otherwise) and Jason, he wanted to make up for his past mistakes with the rest of his family.

Does this mean he fully forgave Bruce for never avenging his death? No.

But did he see the man try. Dick told Jason about the full-body cast their father put Joker in as soon as Batman could. Which was more than Bruce ever told Jason, but whatever. All of the Bat’s kids know he’s emotionally constipated on the best days.

Things were still awkward between all of them, though. Jason talked more to Dick than the rest of the Bat Clan, mostly because he was the only one between the original three who actually apologized. For being a shitty older brother, for not being there, for not realizing Jason was back earlier. Really, the older man practically apologized for everything under the sun one night while Jason stuffed his face full of fries and tried his best to not be emotional. He still needed to talk to the others about everything that happened.

However, that meant emotions and Jason? Jason didn’t do emotions.

He was a cold-blooded semi-retired Crime Lord. Anyone who said he had any emotions besides pure, seething rage was a lying liar who lies.

Even though Jason’s head was practically higher in the clouds than his body was, he was abruptly reminded that he was doing some epic parkour when Nightwing finally passed him.

“You’ve gotten slower, Hood!” The older taunted as he did a theatrical flip between rooftops.

Red Hood let out a frustrated noise, all previous thoughts of his family forcibly shaken from his brain when he rolled onto a gravel-topped roof. 

The man could tell by the state of the buildings around him that they were getting closer to the docks. Red Robin and Orphan would be further north than Nightwing and himself. The intel collected had stated there were two locations being used that night; one was a dunce, the other had the actual goods. Red Robin originally wanted to only focus on the location with the actual drugs, but Nightwing was able to convince him to also hit up the secondary location for information. So, that’s what they eventually agreed to do.

Hood looked forward, eyeing Nightwing as the other slowed to a stop at the edge of the last warehouse’s roof before the high-chained fences of the port stood. “You ready to bust some kneecaps?” Hood quipped as he walked up behind his brother.

“But of course,” Nightwing playfully scoffed, “hopefully we got the drug side of things.”

“That’s a sentence that would worry most parents.”

Even with the domino mask covering the older vigilante, Hood knew he was getting side-eyed. “And you suddenly care about what parents think?”

“Not the time, Wing.” The crime lord practically growled. He knew that was a remark aimed at the sort-of hostility between Jason and Bruce. And he was going to be the adult in this situation, thank you, Dick, and ignore what his brother said. “Let’s go ahead and get this over with.”

“Alright, alright,” the other pacified, “time to get our sneak on.”

Hood rolled his eyes, even if they were covered by his helmet. He aimed himself towards the edge of the street between the two vigilantes and the fenced in areas. With a quick drop and a well-timed roll, Red Hood was in a secure shadow cast by the metal warehouse. With a near-silent grunt, Nightwing joined him. The two shared a nod while Nightwing let Oracle know that they were about to enter their targeted site.

The larger of heroes quickly moved across the small, broken down street. Nightwing was half a pace behind him, and the two easily vaulted over the tall, barbed fence unsuccessfully keeping out unwanted civilians.

Silently, they hurried deeper into the heart of the port, easily dashing between long shadows thrown between towering cargo containers. Hood only slid to a stop when Nightwing held up a fist - a silent order to stop. A few months ago, Jason would have completely ignored his brother’s signals and simply shoved his way past him. Now, however, Hood stilled just behind the smaller figure. With a hurried gesture, Nightwing grappled as quietly as possible onto the dulled metal stacked around them, Red Hood quickly following.

Hood watched as five figures turned into the alley the two had just been. Kevlar-covered fingers caught Hood’s attention in swift commands to spread out and attempt to follow the people below them. A quick nod of a helmeted head showed agreement and Hood silently stalked his prey from his perch on top of sea-touched metals. Nightwing slowly slinked the opposite direction, going his own route to cover more ground.

The five people, dressed in stereo-typical “Goon in Hiding Garb” (as Dick helpfully named it so many years ago), continued on their journey between the containers. Their silent observant kept close watch on them, doing his best to listen in on their conversation. A fit of frustration ran hot and angry through Hood’s veins when he realized that, in order to clearly hear what was being said, he would have to plant a bug of some sort.

Which meant he would have to get closer. And Jason? He really did not want to do that.

However, since Hood was such a nice person, he would put his frustrations to the side in order to successfully plant a tiny Batbug. He was just that nice.

Hood waited until his unsuspecting targets rounded another corner to take action. Once the end of his grapple line was securely hooked, the helmeted man quietly slung down to the concrete-covered ground. After releasing the grapple’s hold, he continued after Penguin’s goon squad. He carefully peeked around a corner, took aim, and quickly threw a small robotic Batbug after them. He watched only long enough to see the tiny piece of technology successfully bounce and latch onto one of the goon’s shirt before ducking out of sight. Hood tapped the side of his helmet to turn on the listening device and stood still as voices flooded into his ear.

“-and like I was saying, Sal, some days it’s better and others it’s worse.” A woman’s tone was the first Hood could make out. “Just do what the bossman says, take your cut, and keep your head low. So long as you try to not break a lot of laws you’ll be fine.”

A younger man’s voice followed behind the woman’s, “I don’t know… The pay is good, yeah, but I’m not too keen on being someone’s punching bag.”

Hood could only presume this boy was Sal. While the man wasn’t one to put stock into guessing ages based only on the sound of their voice, Red Hood found it very difficult to even begin to think this kid was of legal age. It wasn’t that surprising, but it did make Hood’s heart ache and begin to feel a wash of rage ebb into his mind.

“Don’ listen ta ol’ Tracy, kid,” a third voice joined, this one with a thick Narrows accent. “Jus’ get the money ya need ‘n get out. Boss ain’t gonna fault ya for tha’.”

There was a small pause in the goons’ conversation and Hood took this opportunity to glance around the corner again. The five of them were further down, far enough where he could confidently follow within the shadows without being seen.

“... Thanks, Mark,” the kid’s small voice made the Pit Rage lingering in the back of Hood’s mind swell once again. Kids shouldn’t be joining the many villain gangs that lined Gotham’s streets so young. He knew it was hypocritical for the Red Hood, once most feared crime lord in Gotham to be saying, but he practiced what he preached. Kids that came to the Hood for help were given it, no questions asked. He did what he could to make sure no child in the Alley went cold or hungry. Red Hood protected his people.

The Penguin did not.

It was this knowledge, that Cobblepot was openly risking the safety of these children, that set Jason off. The leather protecting his hands creaked as he clenched his hands. He was shaking as he desperately fought to keep the rage from creeping into his vision, mentally warring with himself. Blue eyes blinked behind white lenses, still tracking the hazy figures through the toxic green fog swirling before him. 

He needed to keep following them. At a distance.

Jason honestly wasn’t sure if he could control himself if he got spotted and put into a confrontation.

Quickly grappling back onto the top of the many containers surrounding him, Red Hood continued to follow the people he was eavesdropping on. The five continued to chatter as they unknowingly led a temperamental vigilante straight to the heart of their operation.

Nightwing was keeping tabs on another group he had spotted, if the quiet commentary he was filling the comm line with was any indication. The group Nightwing was following was heading in the opposite direction of Red Hood - meaning that it was likely the older pair who had pulled the short straw of the night.

Which only caused Jason’s frustration to grow. The man really, really wanted to punch something now.

However, Jason was experienced enough in the art of “conceal don’t feel” to not let the raging emotions burning his inside explode outwards. He kept on task, easily keeping up with the small figures below him in an awkward half-crouch.

It was when the small group made it out of the corn-maze inspired cargo storage system that everything went right into the shitter. A massive, green-painted ship swayed gently in the tide, her mooring lines quietly creaking with the strain of keeping such a large vessel moored. Red Hood quickly attached his grapple to a parallel line of containers stacked in the direction Penguin’s goons were heading in. The near-silence of the night, however, did nothing to hide the shocked gasp as the feeling of absolute peace overcame Jason halfway through his leap to the other side.

The worn handle of his grapple gun slid out of Jason’s grasp as he plummeted to the quickly-approaching concrete. Luckily, the man was able to twist enough mid-air to land across his side. Unluckily, he landed directly behind the previously stalked squad of goons.

A quiet, “shit” was all Hood was able to say before the raggedy bunch turned to face him. The man quickly jumped to his feet, pulling out his dual pistols in the same movement. He did his best to try to compartmentalize the growing panic in his chest. Hood kept reaching for the giant void so often full of swirling rage and finding nothing.

He fired rapid shots at the scattered goons, striving to not shoot the smallest one. However, for all of Hood’s training, nothing could have prepared him for being in the middle of a firefight while actively seeking the very cause of all his problems.

Shooting a well-aimed bullet through a hispanic-looking man’s knee, Red Hood rolled behind a sun-bleached blue container. The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps made Hood whip around, coming face-to-face with another three of Penguin’s goons. He could also see two suspicious figures booking it down the ship’s gangway. Hood knew he could handle a fight like this, widening his stance and taking lazy aim at the hostile figures. His first shot went wide when a pulse of hope-settled-forgiven rushed through him, leaving Jason’s eyes useless and his legs shaky.

A bullet piercing through the body armor on his shoulder was barely enough to bring the man out of his head, leaving Jason to realize he was about to be surrounded if the feed from the Batbug was to be trusted. The distant phantom feeling of lounging in the sun, on his favorite chair in a giant, book-filled Wayne Manor library made Jason realize something was wrong. What should have been pain was only half-baked fuzzy feelings of warmth and comfort. It was enough to cause Jason to shoot wildly around himself, bringing a hand to clumsily tap on his helmet. When the man finally heard feedback from someone else’s com, he drunkenly slurred to whoever was listening.

“I-I need b’ck’p,” the hooded man said, firing a shot that went through a goon’s abdomen, “‘m drugged?” Jason couldn’t help but giggle as a smaller body got closer to him, turning his near-unresponsive body to slam the other into unforgiving concrete. An armored boot smashed the goon’s head against the ground. “Hemlo to ya’, too!” Jason laughed as the voices of his siblings flooded his ears.

Another burst of gooey happiness reverberated throughout the crime lord’s body, causing his vision to blackout again. He turned to see a woman with a gun pointed at him. She was the last one left, Jason blearily noticed, her friends’ broken bodies scattered across the ground around him. When did that happen? Jason doesn’t remember them playing, he thought with a frown. It was only when a black-clad individual backflipped into Jason’s narrowing view that he realized Dick had shown up at some point. 

“Big Bir’!” Jason cheered as his brother smoothly took down the last person playing. “Ya go’ ‘er!” His vision went dark again, but the feeling of something rapidly tapping his cheek brought the world back into focus.

“Hood, Hood can you hear me?”

Jason groaned in response, weakly pushing at his brother with heavy arms. “Shhhh,” he hissed, “‘m try’ng ta l’sten!”

Dick’s masked face, darkened with spots of speckled blood, danced with black spots around his vision, “Hood, what do you mean?” The older one asked.

Instead of responding, however, Jason’s body decided that talking was too much work. A peaceful feeling overtook him as he fell unconscious to the increasingly worried voice of his big brother, and a song of hope sung deep within his being.

( ुᴗᵨᴗ)ु.zZ

A/N: Hello! Please pardon any bad writing, it's been one hell of a hot second haha. Anyways - this has been an absolute labor of love from me. I've had this chapter finished since mid-February but a combination of my jobs, schooling, and a big editing block made it hella late. That being said, huge shoutout to my two betas @the-archer-goddess and Aerois! Legit could not have done it without you guys <3

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @apointlessbox @mentalcarebear @asphyxia778 @horribly-lost-and-gay @may-rbi @blacksea21090 @kyrianclawraith (Hope I got everyone! If you want to be added to or taken off the taglist feel free to ask <3)

[mariacallous]

On the final evening of a trip to China this summer, I went out to dinner with friends at a shopping mall in central Shanghai and had my eyes opened by something unexpected.

Shopping malls have been the rage in China for decades, never falling out of fashion as some would say they did long ago in the country that invented them, the United States. Although a definitive count is hard to come by, in Shanghai alone, China’s largest city and one of its richest, there are said to be hundreds of malls, and I’ve been visiting them frequently since the early 2000s, when I lived in the city.

This might make malls an unlikely backdrop for an insight into ongoing social currents in the country, but that’s exactly what my dinner experience delivered to me on this night. First of all was the location. When I received the invitation, I immediately recognized the address, Middle Huaihai Road, in the city’s elegant former French Concession. And as I approached the place in a car hailed using an Uber-like app, I remembered the neighborhood as having once been home to one of the city’s biggest and most famous fake-goods markets. For decades, this was where airline crews and foreign visitors flocked to purchase knockoffs of Western luxury brands at rock-bottom prices, as well as pirated copies of DVDs of the latest Hollywood releases, among other goods.

Upon approach, the mall announced just how much China—and the world—has changed in the last 10 years, through the gigantic, illuminated lettering of its anchor business: an enormous Prada store, replete with the ritzy and distinctive architecture that normally goes with such things. Other pricey brand stores included Gucci, Miu Miu, and Dolce & Gabbana.

Even before I stepped inside, I knew that I was in for a special experience. Neatly dressed valets and doormen greeted arriving customers pointing them, a bit superfluously, toward the automatic doorways, where even from the outside, the welcome blast of air conditioning could be felt in the warm and thickly humid night.

I have long been aware that Chinese shopping malls, like malls in other countries, exist on a spectrum, from low to high end, and I had been to other high-end malls in China before, including in other cities, from Beijing to Chengdu and Xi’an. The celebration of luxury on display at the IAPM Mall struck me as a whole new level, though, and this went well beyond its collection of commercial tenants. What impressed me more that evening was the clientele. No small number of the people sauntering through its white decor looked like customers in a Paris or Milan fashion show, and, often enough, like the models themselves, complete with looks of haughty self-contentment and practiced ennui.

One of the most prevalent storylines about China in the wake of COVID-19 has been the dearth of consumer demand. This was clearly not the problem, though, for the occupants of the small world that I encountered that evening. There have been related storylines about weak investment data, both from Chinese and foreign sources, as well as an even longer-running topic, an ongoing crisis over overcapacity in the housing market.

I am admittedly limited to appearances, but on this one Friday night the people in this one mall didn’t seem to have a care in the world. Not only were they dressed to kill, but they were filling the many shops and restaurants, where they were eating fancy meals and, yes, spending money and buying things. My visits to more ordinary malls on this trip and other recent visits have revealed very different behaviors to me. The foot traffic in them appears reasonably healthy, even busy, but the stores, from jewelry shops and mobile phone dealers to clothing boutiques, have most often been empty, or close to it, and the food consumption on display heavily favored low-end restaurants and fast food.

The point that I have been working my way toward is that more than ever before, this trip left me with the impression of China as a deeply and increasingly bifurcated society, one in which inequality is high and seems to be growing, where people are living in increasingly separate worlds.

As I noted in my last column, which also drew from this trip, large numbers of Chinese people have recently been seeking ways to exit their society, pessimistically voting with their feet, in effect, about their country’s prospects after a long period of world-beating and transformational economic growth. The question is whether this matters to the country’s leadership, or better put: At what point would an exodus of people be deemed a crisis or emergency?

There is an argument to be made that the flight of many thousands of people who are struggling in China’s current economic environment actually benefits the state, by serving as a form of social release or, in other words, an escape valve. People from the countryside, from third-tier cities in the country’s interior, members of the working and lower-middle classes enjoy little political influence in today’s China. What the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) and state pay much closer attention to are the sentiments and behaviors of the more prosperous elements of the society that are concentrated in the giant and relatively rich cities of the country’s east.

If religion, for Karl Marx, was famously called the opium of the masses, then material comfort; dernier cri fashion; access to the most prestigious brands; and lifestyle enhancements, like the endless fancy dining choices on display in the mall I visited, from the sumptuous and elegant Singapore soup dumpling restaurant where we ate to the embarrassment of choices of specialty dessert places (I chose chocolates from an expensive Italian-named place), would seem to be the pacifiers of China’s upper-middle classes.

By the standards of Americans with decent professional incomes, the cost of living in China’s most affluent cities often seems quite reasonable. Foreign luxury goods may be expensive (and heavily taxed), but restaurants, clothes, transportation, and many services are downright cheap. If this is true for an American, it is also true for an affluent Chinese person, like those in evidence on this Friday night.

For me, this helps make sense of a lot of what is going on in China today. Scholars have long explained the post-Tiananmen Square social contract in these terms: Stay out of politics, the sole preserve of the CCP, and focus on that era’s newly sanctified secular goal, getting rich.

Becoming affluent has become much more difficult in recent years, with the Chinese economy’s gradual but steady slowdown, with a trend toward rapid aging well underway, and with the costs of the COVID-19 pandemic and its sluggish aftermath. Brought up to date, a newer disposition might go something like this: If you’re rich, good for you; enjoy, indulge, and don’t make waves. If you’re not, though, well, you’re largely on your own.

When one looks at the rest of the Chinese population—meaning the hundreds of millions who don’t live in the most prosperous eastern cities, don’t rank above the middle class, or worse, live in the countryside—the material comforts and purchasing-power advantages enjoyed by urban elites are shrinking or nonexistent. For many rural Chinese, the most economically vulnerable portion of the population, in fact, state pensions only provide about $25 a month for many retirees.

Understood in this way, my night out at the mall may have offered me the most distorting mirror imaginable about the actual state of China and its economy. Not only are people seeking to leave via emigration, but Chinese also seem to be expressing their feelings and confidence about the future in another, even more telling way: their decisions about when or whether to get married and have children.

Narratives about falling fertility rates have become commonplace around the world in recent years, but that only obscures the drama of what is happening around decisions like these in China. As the demographer Nicholas Eberstadt has pointed out, since 2013, the year that Xi Jinping became the country’s leader, the number of first marriages in the country has fallen by more than half. There were only half as many births in 2022 as just six years earlier, meanwhile, and these numbers are still falling. Not even the collapse of the Soviet Union, Mao Zedong’s Great Famine, or the genocide in Cambodia managed to cut the fertility rate, or average number of births per woman, by as large a percentage as China has seen during these years.

Almost all well-regarded demographers agree that China’s population is going to shrink dramatically over the coming decades. This, of course, doesn’t mean that the country is going to disappear. No society facing declining fertility has figured out how to reverse this trend. To even slow it down, though, China will have to revise its social compact yet again, doing much more to provide opportunity, affordability, and economic security not for the fancy mall shoppers, but for everyone else.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interaction

Thanks to @mysticstarlightduck here and @illarian-rambling here!

Rules: describe an OC and then how they would interact with the OC of the person who tagged you!

The descriptions added up and now it's long. Under the cut!

Mystic's OC 1:

Nimwen is an 18 year old girl who has spent most of her life (since she was 8) travelling through the uncharted forests of a region popularly called "the wilds", with her adoptive brother Scarlet and their little band of misfits. They live on the outskirts of society, since their kingdom has been so dilligently outcasting them, but they don't seem to mind it. All in all, Nimwen is an awkward, overly anxious, often paranoid but incredibly sweet girl, though she rarely lets strangers get too close to her. She embodies the energy of a skittish deer that will bolt at the nearest sign of danger, even if its a false alarm, though she has very good reasons to be that way - her father was wrongfully executed for treason, and the people of the kingdom didn't exactly give her much reason to trust them after what they did, so yeah. She's very in touch with nature and other people's feelings though she somehow seems very much oblivious to her own. She prefers to avoid confrontation, and will only fight if that's the absolute last resort in a life or death situation. She loves very deeply and makes strong bonds once you get to know her properly.

Mystic's OC 2:

Renn is a young man in his late teens (his exact age hasn't been specified yet, but he's suspected to be around 16-19) with a penchant for dark humor and a love for all that's mysterious and slightly macabre. He has a very strong vibe that is reminiscent of those early 2000s goth/emo kids, minus the angst - just the aesthetics and the sometimes deeply philosophical existential crisis - despite his fantasy medieval setting. He is a rule breaker and likes to question authorities at every chance he gets, and is also very savvy about the true inner workings of their seemingly perfect kingdom. It is implied that he has some kind of secret he is keeping hidden at all costs, and that implication would be true, but its not what most people would assume. While the townsfolk mostly label him as this unhinged/"crazy" reject who is always causing trouble and is up to no good, he is actually a really sweet kid that just had some truly fucked up stuff happen in his past. He is a loyal friend and values honesty and integrity above all else, even if it means he'll have to go down fighting for what he believes in. Despite all of this intensity, he just wants someone to truly understand him and have a pure friendship towards him. He is also implied to be gifted in some kind of magic, though it isn't specified which, and that he has knowlege of "forbidden arts".

Katie's OC:

Ivander Montane is a 30 year old corrupt detective from the trade city of Unity. He has blue blood and double-pointed ears, wears fancy suits, and walks with a cane. His estranged family runs the banks of Unity, however he left them years ago, and in doing so, broke a divine contract, which left him cursed to slowly and painfully be transmuted into mist over the course of many years. Personality-wise, he's kind of a privileged shithead. He's got the catty attitude and love of gossip of a middle school girl, and can insult your outfit just as acutely. He doesn't have a sincere bone in his body and is afraid of any form of intimacy. However, deep down, he really just wants a friend and to not be in pain anymore. Show him the slightest hint of compassion and he will crumble. His hobbies include being a hater, fashion, and marksmanship (he's a crack shot with a rune rifle). All in all, he's got the snark of a drag queen, the heart of a lonely noir detective, and a body that's been through a cheese grater.

My OC:

Maddie is an 11-year-old girl who is quiet, curious, and a bit of a risk-taker. She's generally well-liked but isn't sure why people like her. She fidgets and squirms and likes to remain active, especially with her hands. She's a STEM kid through and through, loving each letter in the acronym. Maddie takes things apart, such as pens, to see how they work and eventually joins her school's robotics club. She believes in direct fairness - will match your tone with her - and gets a little upset if she is misunderstood, which is often, since she thinks she's straightforward. Her honesty leads to her being nosy, as she believes everyone should be open. Maddie is an animal shapeshifter, and enjoys the physical sensation of morphing as well as pushing her limits a little too much. She's a gamer who prefers consuls with buttons and enjoys old sci-fi shows and modern cartoons. Despite not quite understanding emotions, she does try to be there for the people she cares about, and usually tries to defuse a serious situation with a little joke.

Maddie + Nimwen:

Maddie likes adventure and risk, so I think she would be interested in hearing Nimwen traveling through uncharted forest for a decade. Her sibling is much more comfortable staying in, well, her comfort zone, so the idea of two siblings doing this would be a little foreign to Maddie. Being overly anxious and sweet would remind Maddie of her sister, but Lexi is a lot more outgoing. She wouldn't really understand Nimwen being skittish, but maybe Maddie's more adventurous nature would rub off on her. She may be a little caught off-guard by Maddie's shapeshifting. Nimwen being in touch with nature combined with Maddie's animal morphing will be interesting. Maybe Ninwen's knowledge of animals can help Maddie understand them more, since she's more of a hands-on person and is functioning based on reading up on animals - something she can only tolerate knowing she'll shapeshift later. Nimwen could also give Maddie more emotional advice, though it would take a while for Maddie to understand why Nimwen wants to talk with her. Maddie is a little over-eager to fight, so Nimwen may have to hold her back, or Maddie may try to get Nimwen to fight with her. I think this would be a fun little sister-esque dynamic!

Renn + Maddie:

Maddie is best friends with an emo/goth leaning person, so I feel like Renn is familiar territory. Maddie also likes breaking rules for the thrill and questioning authority, so I think they'd be an unstoppable force. Maddie is nosy, though, so I think she'd be a little too curious about Renn's secrets and business. They're both honest, Maddie almost blunt, so I feel like they'd get along. She'd also be curious about his own magic, and would probably show off her powers. I think Maddie would be a little weirded out if Renn wants to be friends with her - and since they seem to understand each other, that may be possible, though not sure how he'd feel about her being a kid - but I think in the end they'd be an unstoppable duo.

Ivander + Maddie:

Now this is an unlikely pairing. Maddie's nosy nature would probably get on his nerves. She'd be curious about the cane, why he's always in pain, etc and may ask too many questions and not pick up on how he doesn't want to answer them. She would probably though recognize his shitheaddedness and would just match his attitude with her fairness policy. Maddie has an odd fashion choice - bright and colorful with mismatched patterns, but I don't think she'd be that hurt by any insults, just confused. And of course would get him back. Maddie is a nice and kind person but isn't good about empathizing, and if Ivander doesn't show her compassion, she won't show it either. They'd annoy each other, and honestly they may have fun doing it. At least Maddie will find it very exciting to poke at his patience.

To describe OCs to pair with Maddie --

@monstrouswrites @mrbexwrites @elsie-writes @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @stesierra @sarandipitywrites @sarahlizziewrites @mk-writes-stuff @jezifster @jessicagailwrites @leahnardo-da-veggie @pb-dot @ohnomybreadsticks + anyone else!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites - y'all can hop on if you want!

[orginllazyblog]

AFK Arena drawings I did :D

Also, Headcannons!

First attempt drawing Annih

Honestly, the closest accurate if Lilith finally adds the two gods in the game

More drawings of him:

10% blood left -> 90% almost complete

Small headcanon: Dura and Annih create the celestial twins as they weren't first created to start off as kids to adults. As well for them handle Annih's work when he "left".

Next is his outfit, which is giving a Maleficent vibe. The second one is his celestial outfit:

A close-up of him. Giving him braids. You may also find that I drew little fireballs, references from his loading screen background, or from the wiki website if you don't know what I mean. Coming up with his clothing design, I have a feeling he would wear something that covers his neck to feet.

Yeah, you might think he would show more of his skin and consider he's the creator of the Hypogeans. Nah! Boy would wear a black hoodie in the middle of a hot summer.

You may also find that I drew little fireballs, references from his loading screen background, or from the wiki website if you don't know what I mean.

One is chaotic gremlin, and the other is more chill. A dark red mix magenta makes the mortals give into becoming Hypogeans, which explains for those like Lucretia and Lavatune who were once humans. The chill one is the creator of the Graveborns and thus report to Annih on their activities. The reason why Annih is not guiding the souls to the afterlife was to play his villain role until Dura's vacation is over.

But hey, that's just fan theory

Anyway, it's Dura's turn:

Young and sweet 👍🏼 while he's more mature and serious. I had fun drawing her long, wavy hair. Surprisingly, this is the only drawing I have for her while I drew her brother more.

Oh yeah! Speaking of that. I intend to make these two as siblings instead of having typical Hades x Persephone stereo type because it's just makes the Hades character more misunderstood. Looking back at @tatarella afk Arena post, it seems dev lilith's made him that way; jealous of Dura's favoritism, hated his job, and want destruction to Esperia.

Me: Alright, I'ma do it in my own way.

HC #1: Annih was not given attention from his creator, Honas, Primordial God of Order and Creation. This makes him question his eternal life crisis, thus telling Dura that he wanted to just disappear as he thinks he doesn't have much potential like her. She tells him that he's important to this world and that they were meant to be a pair of siblings who look after each other as they were made that way. Even though one is busy with their God duties, they give him a gift, which is a library filled with every Esperian mortal life recorded in a book. He never likes the humans as much as his sister and prefers a quiet environment.

HC #2: Him being a cold brother but secretly cares and worries for his sister. Back then, she was too nice, and he fears that someone could try to take her naiveness to their greedy intentions. He made sure to warn her multiple times to never be fooled by the humans. That one Hazbin Hotel reference: "You don't take shit from any demons!"

HC #3: When Dura and Annih were fighting during the war to make everyone believe their acting, he didn't want to hurt the only closet family he had besides Honas who they haven't seen him ever since from the beginning. He had a theory that if something were to happen between the siblings, Honas would come to deal with them, but somehow, they did not after that war.

HC #4: Goodbye, young Dura, now she's gone through character development. The reason why I headcanon that she stay at the Dislyte universe was that the game was also created by Lilith developers. There, she learned the fashion style, technology, trends, and some of the people, though she was only here for a vacation.

HC #5: With every mortal life recorded in the book, it also recorded the gods like Dura and Annih themselves. Though, he decided not to read his or hers because he respects privacy. One time, he found what seemed to be two large, thick books with strange cover. He then realized this was Honas and Lutos' life book still recording, but he never read it as he never wanted to remember Honas. As for Lutos, he knew they're more dangerous and that Honas was guarding the prison throughout eons. Annih never told Dura as she wonders if Honas would ever come to visit as she see them as a father figure. Yeah, I'm giving Annih Daddy issues.

HC# 6: Okay, this is the last one. Honas and Lutos, I headcanon that they are genderless, though Honas takes the form of a masculine figure, and Lutos takes the form of a feminine figure. Maybe even starting off as enemies to lovers as I have been writing about quite a lot 😅