#probably my dumbest post yet

[silverbridge-harbor]

English people will be like yer arse is grarse mate

[goodoldfashionednerd]

Will wearing this while walking the Cocoa Puffs

[bobmckenzie]

me: people are way too vain we really need to stop putting so much stock into our appearances it's not that serious

also me: cuts my hair too short and feels PHYSICALLY ILL over it

[the-squeege]

Recreation of a popular reaction image from my dream last night

[spicysucculentz]

gregor samsa was 23 when he turned into a bug! he should have been at the club

[munson-blurbs]

How do you think Eddie would react to a fwb reader who uses sex as a distraction from their feelings?? Like, they’ve been having a bad week an their mental state isn’t great but heyyy there’s sex. Reader doesn’t really care about the pleasure part of sex just the distraction. Worried Eddie would feel a little used ngl :P

((Dancy dances away nervously))

I know you started this with "do you think" but my brain said WRITE A BLURB so here we are. Also shoutout @corroded-hellfire for helping me make it cute without being cliche.

Warnings: mentions of smut (18+ only, minors DNI), friends with benefits, angst/yearning, idiots in love, made it fluffy because I'm a sap

WC: 747

--

You hadn’t thought anything of it the night he’d called you “baby.” He was deep within you, melding his body with yours. Lost in the moment.

Or the night he’d mumbled, “your pussy was made for me” while slamming into you from behind. It was just dirty talk; nothing more and nothing less. 

Maybe you should have been tipped off when he’d growled, “mine,” his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed soft kisses below your earlobe. You’d figured the word, like the sex, was meaningless. 

But tonight’s comment stops you in your tracks. Your legs are wobbling beneath you, exhausted from riding him, as you step back into your pants. 

“Do you wanna, like, cuddle for a sec?”

A giggle escapes from your lips, swollen and kiss-bitten. He’s joking; he has to be. The two of you have a perfectly choreographed routine: you have a bad day, you call Eddie, you fuck, and then you leave. And his latest suggestion would definitely interfere with step four. 

When your eyes meet his, you realize that he’s serious. Hurt and confusion at your laughter crease his brows, and he tugs the sheet up a bit higher. 

“Sorry, I, um…” He shakes his head and rubs his face. “Never mind. You probably have to go anyway.”

You’re in no hurry to return home, fresh off of yet another argument with your roommate. That’s why you’d come over to Eddie’s trailer in the first place. And it isn’t as though you’d never thought about being in his strong, tattooed arms. The way he’d hold you flush against him, your cheek on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s something you’d once wanted—craved, even—but you couldn’t let vulnerability infiltrate you like that again. 

You spent high school watching him pine over the cheerleaders. He unwittingly broke your heart over and over with each woman he hooked up with at the Hideout, overlooking you despite your presence at every show. Being friends with benefits is risky enough, and post-sex snuggling will send you teetering over the edge back into the rocky terrain of unrequited love. 

And so you lean into humor as you shrug on your shirt. “I don’t think this friends-with-benefits arrangement includes cuddling.” Keeping your tone light and even, restraining every desire to crawl into bed with him. 

“Right, yeah.” He sighs and offers a sad half-smile. “It’s just…I was thinking—”

“That’s dangerous.”

He flips you off and continues. “I was thinking that maybe we could be more than that. Y’know, maybe we could have sex when you’re happy, too.” 

“I am happy when we have sex,” you counter.

Eddie shakes his head again. “I’m talking about before we do it.” He gnaws on his thumbnail. “It feels like you only want me when you have a bad day. A-And I’m glad I can be here for you and stuff, but sometimes I wonder if I’m a friend or just a good lay.”

You try to look at him when you speak, but he keeps his gaze trained on the ground. “Eddie,” you start, taking a seat next to him. His chest is slick with sweat, the soft hairs matted down. “Eddie, I had the biggest, dumbest crush on you when we were younger. And knowing I couldn’t have you tore me apart.” You let your hand rest on his. “I can’t risk having you and then losing you.”

“Losing me?” Eddie laughs softly and his free palm comes up to cup your cheek. “Look at me. Where am I going?”

“You could find someone new, someone better, someone who—”

He cuts you off with a searing kiss, remnants of your arousal still tinging his lips and tongue. “There’s no one better,” he murmurs. “You see me answering the door at two in the morning for anyone else? Think I’d miss out on precious sleep for them?” 

One arm hooks around you back and pulls you in until you assume the little spoon position. Nimble fingers undo the button of your jeans, slowly and patiently, a stark contrast to the way he’d practically torn the denim removing them earlier. 

“‘S that comfier?” He asks through a yawn.

“Mhm.” And it is. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been in a while, at least without him inside you. 

His curls tickle the back of your neck as he nuzzles into you. He staves off sleep long enough to speak one last time. 

“I’m glad you’re staying, baby.”

--

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... J'onn broke the news that Danny thinks he's going to be forced into combat in exchange for his medical care. Everyone disliked that™.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

COME GET YOUR NEW ART HERE 💥🍳!!💥 IT'S FIBERCRAFT!!Shoutout to @rainbowbeansprout for crocheting a fic accurate injured ghost Danny!! That's outstanding!!

💚👻👽👻💚

So, Wally broke all of the bones in his legs yesterday.

Which is…not ideal. Still. He’s pretty used to it at this point, though, and he’s already mostly healed.

It’s just that. Well.

…The rest of healing is kind of…time-consuming.

So Wally’s in basketball shorts and a mask and a t-shirt he’d started using as pajamas when he was in college and he’s on the med floor of the Watchtower, and yet another physical therapist is helping him bend his leg back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, because he’d tripped in the middle of the Speedforce and busted everything hip-down.

So. (Back, and forth. Back, and forth. Back…) This sucks.

“Do we have to do this every time?” Wally asks, as if there isn’t a team of medical professionals kept on hand to deal with Superpower-wrought Super Medical Problems.

“Do you have to shatter your legs every time?” the PT asks back wryly, which, hey! The pressure pressing up against his bare foot is an additional stressor to the sass. “Bend this more for me, Flash. You can do it.”

Wally grumbles, and pretends the angle his leg is bending at doesn’t make him wince. Wow is he going to have to build his flexibility back up again.

The physical therapy room looks just like any other gym, basically; a lot of squishy mats in playful colors, a lot of grippy tape; a LOT of wipeable vinyl surfaces that can be sanitized at a moment’s notice. It smells kind of weird and plasticky and kind of like alcohol cleaner.

It’s not his favorite room in the Watchtower, but, eh. It could be way worse. What’s unusual is the whirrr of the door opening and closing in one of the private care rooms for another patient, since, you know...HIPAA and all that. Wally assumes. Or is it costume confidentiality once you leave Earth's atmosphere...?

Usually everyone knows who’s stopping in for PE through the sheer power of the Justice League gossip groupchats. (There’s at least nine. Wally’s in four of them. He aspires to be in two more by April.) There hasn’t been a big fight that requires long-term medical care in a while, and there’s no one Wally can think of who’d need this kind of recovery.

Something’s buzzing at the outside of his awareness, though. It sounds kind of…

Wally perks up. “Hey, the alien kid’s here!”

The PT holding Wally up at the waist hums. Her name is Cindy, and judging from their previous conversations, she thinks that Wally is the dumbest man alive. “There’s a million of those, Flash. Which one?”

“The one who bit Superman,” Wally adds.

Judging by the face Cindy makes, this clarifies nothing.

“Most recently,” Wally stresses, carefully not wincing as his leg gets stretched out again, only to be pulled back into position as tightly as before. “OW. Cindy, you’re killing me.”

Cindy makes a strangled noise. She asks: “What, again?” which is how Wally remembers that he got torn back out of the time stream not all that long ago, and it may be a big gauche to joke about your own death with the people who care about it.

Whoops. Wally winces. “…Nevermind?”

The other PTs make various fussy and annoyed noises, but the alien kid is wheeled onto the other side of the medical floor’s only gym. (The actual training floors are on another level. Wally wishes he was there. Alone.)

(Without four PTs clinging to his legs at all times.)

Wally waves. It’s a nice enough gesture, and now that the alien-phantasm-turned-flesh-and-blood-boy is more physically embodied than he used to be, the boy even deigns to carefully wave back.

The kid’s PTs—Wally thinks at least one of them is from the team that supervises Bart and his super-powered-leg-problems—end up encouraging the alien kid’s chair round to the soft mats where the kid can lay down. He ends up in the exact same position Wally is—horizontal on the floor, legs forcibly pinwheeled by enthusiastic but firm PTs.

Wally can physically feel the kid’s astonishment and discontentment buzzing in the air as he figures out what’s being done to him. Wally can’t help but laugh.

The kid angles his head towards the speedster. His face still looks—well, it looks…bad. It looks bad, unhealed and still threatening to weep neon green body fluids; there’s a wet, living crack running up and down his face that makes eye contact kind of hard. His hands are all spidery—this kid can probably hold and grip things, but the previous breakage have left his hands a little too easy to splay, a little too oddly-angled. He’s too thin to keep himself fully upright for long. When he looks at you, his eyes shake like a poorly lined-up television signal.

Martian Manhunter had said that he’d once looked like a healthy, happy human child. His current form is a reflection of the injuries he’d experienced since.

...What a thing for a kid to go through. Wally wouldn’t wish this sort of injury on anyone.

“­Alright, up you go,” the PT above him—Rhys, Wally remembers at the very last second—orders, and Wally is prompted to let the man help him back upright. “Over to the bars for you. You think your legs are up to bearing that kind of weight as you try out walking?”

“…Sure,” Wally lies to Rhys. It’ll be fine. Probably. By the time he gets over there, his legs might have already speed-healed by then. “Hand me the—?”

“Yeah, yeah, here’s the crutches. Don’t destroy yourself trying to make this happen, okay?”

So Wally gets set up at the glorified playground equipment in his least restrictive gym clothes, one long iron bar under one arm, and one long iron bar under the other. Two full-size physical therapists spot him as the speedster completes the most strenuous task available to him at the moment: walking across a very short distance without putting his full weight on his legs.

Wally puts one shaking leg in front of the other. The steps are slow. The urge to zoom to the end of the little bowling lane he’s stuck in—and therefore shatter his legs under the speedforce, again—is irresistibly temping.

Healing sucks. And Wally’s even got the longer end of the stick.

In the end, Wally sticks the landing. He is unreasonably sweaty. He is miserable. But he makes it to the end. Every one of the witnessing PTs applauds as if this is a great success. It’s literally not. It’s the inevitable result of pushing himself too far for the third time this year.

A question buzzes through the air, fluffing through Wally’s hair and the little fine hairs up and down his body. It’s nothing but inquisitive—whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoing?

Wally lets the PT maneuver a chair underneath him. It gives him enough breathing room to turn his upper torso, and he ends up catching the eye of the little alien kid in the corner. He’s sat on a yoga ball, two members of his medical team and one of the kids’ PTs trying to get his attention back to his exercises.

“Hey,” Wally realizes suddenly. “Your casts are gone!”

The kids’ legs are actually bare, which Wally’s never seen before. They’re twiggy, sure, stretched taut over a bone frame, and discolored and pale, but they’re legs. Wally hadn’t even known the alien had possessed legs until he’d formed a physical body months and months ago.

“Dude, that’s great!”

Happy/smug/proud vibrates through the room, making Wally’s teeth buzz. The kid smiles through a half-split lip, and bounces on the yoga ball ever so slightly.

“Good,” the kid says, surprising Wally, his PTs, and the kid’s usual medical team. He was talking already?! He thought J’onn had said—

“Hurt?” the boy asks, concern/concern flooding through the air. Oh. Right. He’s probably here for his busted legs; it would make sense that by virtue of the setting, Wally would be injured too.

And, sure, Wally busted his legs, but he at least heals with all the swiftness of the speedforce. “Meh.” Wally waves off the question. “I’m fine. It’ll be quick for me; some rehab and some lunch and a few days off, and I’ll be in shipshape.”

Wait. Wally’s eyes scrunches up. Is using wordplay appropriate with this kid…?

“Pain?” the kid asks, and turned his attention to the closest member of his medical team. “He pain?”

The medical professional sighs, which finally clues Wally in that the man is no longer masked. Hey, the kid is out of medical isolation! “The Flash has his own medication, thankfully. His doctors know what to do.”

The kid frowns. He doesn’t get it. He looks at Wally, and he looks at the staffer, who shrugs. “It’s the usual indicator word he uses for pain medication. He’s wondering if you’re hurt enough to need some.”

Wally hums. On one hand, it’s sweet that the alien kid is worried about him. It’s a huge step upwards from the alien who spent all his time hiding in abandoned meeting rooms and occasionally biting Superheroes.

On the other hand, the kid doesn’t just look worried that Wally might not be getting care; he looks scared.

Something happened to this kid. Something he can't shake off.

Wally breathes in, and breathes out.

—And breathes in sharply when Cindy starts wiggling his feet. She doesn’t respond at all to his glare, because she is a professional, and he is not a big baby of a superhero.

Mean.

“I’m fine,” Wally finally responds, trying to alleviate the kid’s concerns through sheer vibes-telepathy alone. Who knows if it’s working, but it makes Wally feel better about trying at the very least. “I’ve got my own team to fix me up, and they do a good job of taking care of me. Even if they’re bullying me at my most vulnerable.”

“Anything for you, boss,” Cindy volleys back cheerfully. “Gimme your other leg.”

The tension in the air slowly dissipates. The kid doesn’t stop shooting occasional looks at the unadorned, half-out-of-uniform Flash, but he does let Bart’s little PT team get to working on stretching out his previously-bound now-physical legs and getting him upright—if only for a few seconds at a time, balanced precariously by humans who actually touch his back and arms and hips and legs.

Wally’s session wraps up before the kid’s does. He’s not in any rush. He gets onto the walking crutches Rhys leaves out for his temporary use and lopes over to watch, occasionally hooting and applauding when the kid pulls off something no one’d been sure he could do.

The double handed high-five Wally offers him at the end is punctuated with shaky eye contact, two working hands, and a green-threaded beaming grin.

*

Diana cheerfully digs into her kebab lunch, plastic cutlery pushed to their maximum limit before threatening to break under her prodigious strength. “You know, Batman,” she starts, beaming, “My charge gave me his name the other day.”

Bruce sets down his muenster-ham-and-whole-wheat sandwich mid-bite. “I’ll need to hear everything,” he says immediately, to which Diana tuts.

“Oh, Batman, I could never break his trust like that,” she says, sweet as anything. She finesses a bite of lamb from the skewer and takes a neat bite.

“…Wonder Woman,” Batman says.

“Hm?”

“Diana.”

“Is there something you needed, Bruce?” Diana asks, pleased with herself. There genuinely is very little that could be done with a vague description of a now-altered human form and a first name alone; besides, she genuinely does feel that hearing the boy’s name come from others’ lips would be upsetting for him. Danny offered his name to Diana alone, and so it shall remain until hers alone he offers it to others.

Still, she is not above bragging.

“I need information.” Bruce’s face underneath his mask is stone.

Diana dips a second chunk of lamb into a little container of tzatziki sauce. “Well, then,” she points out, “Shouldn’t you spend some time building rapport with my charge, then?”

The feared Batman of Gotham, father of a half-dozen highly trained heroes, bristles like a wet cat. The demeanor is almost comical. He knows what he looks like to non-Gothamite children. He knows his suit will make this fight for common familiarity an uphill battle.

Diana smugly works through her lunch and ignores Bruce’s silent brooding as he does the same.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Johnny Cade fic

Sometimes, keeping secrets is necessary.

For all the gang is close, close as brothers- sometimes closer than that if Soda and Steve’s weird dynamic is anything to judge by- Johnny knows that some things are best kept between two people, three in some situations, or guarded closely to oneself when a secret is more shame than anything more. It’s why he and Dally patch each other up so often and leave the others out of it, Dally with his warlike ways and gritty survival, him with his stupid broken heart and the bruises it earns him. It’s easier he thinks, to keep that sort of sharing and vulnerability for two people instead of seven, just like it’s easier for Darry to only ever truly talk to Two-bit, and for Soda to haul Steve out for a drag race when he shows up on the Curtis’ front porch with cold eyes and yet another bloody lip. Not everyone needs to know everything. Some things are best kept between a few folks, and if those things are named secrets, well, so be it. It would do more harm than good for Darry to find out what Pony says when he’s ranting to Johnny, and Dal never needed to know half the things Johnny and Darry did to get him out of scrapes he never even realized he’d gotten himself into. 

Another thing Johnny knows about secrets: some are more important than others. Knowing the nickname Steve’s mom used to call him is a far less important secret than the real reason Dal left New York, but Johnny keeps any and every secret entrusted to him locked up tight behind layers of stubbornness that could rival Pony in even his most pigheaded moods. He learned a long time ago that loose lips sink ships- and he couldn’t live with himself if something he knew and let slip ever ended with one of the gang getting hurt. Hell, he can hardly stand to live with himself now.

“Stupid grease,” For a second Johnny thinks the insult is being tossed at him, but when he looks up the soc- some asshole with the dumbest fucking haircut Johnny’s ever seen- doesn’t appear to have even noticed he’s rounded the corner as he grumbles to the rest of his buddies all dressed in letterman jackets and combover hairdos, “can’t believe some greaseball kid thinks he can work with my girl.”

“Least the kid is smart,” a guy with a yellow madras shirt Johnny recognizes from his own C level english class says. Johnny had thought he was dumb as a post before he’d been sat next to the guy. Compared to goldie he was fucking Einstein himself, “I got stuck with Rosie. Dumb bitch wouldn't recognize her own face in a mirror.”

Look who’s talking, Johnny thinks, fully intending to keep minding his own business. Socs pissed off and planning to jump a greaser kid was nothing new in the halls of Tulsa high, and he wasn’t planning to stick around and find out which unlucky guy was gonna be the latest target of the football team. Maybe they’d be stupid enough to go after Curly Shepard again and get their asses handed to him. Johnny fucking hates Curly shepard, but even he has to admit the guy is a straight up beast in a fight. Real tuff.

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let some freshman grease named after a damn horse chat up my girl.” The soc with the ugly haircut sneers, “we’re gonna teach that kid a lesson. Lawson says the kid’s on the track team, so we’ll catch him when he’s done practice so the coach don’t go looking.”

The soc keeps talking, joking with his buddies, probably describing in vivid detail how he’s planning on beating up Johnny’s best friend- his thirteen year old best friend- into a pulp. Johnny can’t hear it anyway- not over the roaring in his ears.

Steve is cursing and fighting with his combination lock when Johnny finds him just outside the science wing, his carefully gelled hair a stark contrast to his grease stained t-shirt. For all the dark cloud of his mood is nearly visible, Johnny still can't help but feel bad for him. Soda had officially dropped out just over a month ago and Steve was still taking it mighty hard. He kind of understood- Steve didn’t have a ton of friends besides the gang, and with Evie skipping half the week and Soda working full time, Steve's social circle at school had shrunk to near zero. 

“We got a problem,” Johnny tells him without preamble, and there’s a grim determination in Steve’s eyes when he turns to him, nodding and following him down the hallway without a word. Besides his gruff but unflinching loyalty, one thing about Steve that Johnny appreciates is that, like him, Steve feels no need for meaningless pleasantries. 

As they stalk through the halls, no doubt looking like they mean business if the way socy girls and a few fresh men give them a wide berth is anything to judge by, Steve doesn’t ask questions, no doubt knowing that Johnny will explain everything as soon as they track down Two-bit. 

“Two,” Steve barks as soon as they spot him, flirting with a pretty blonde who’s rolling her eyes but moving closer to him just the same, “let’s go. We got a problem.”

He must be able to tell he’s serious because he gives the blonde a final leer and joins them immediately.

“What’s goin’ on? I’d nearly talked her into lettin’ me take her to the Dingo on Saturday.”

“There’ll be other girls for you to disappoint sexually,” Steve rolls his eyes, “but Johnny says we got a problem right now.”

He turns to Johnny expectantly.

“I overheard some socs earlier talkin’ ‘bout Ponyboy,” Johnny starts. Both older boy’s eyes darken, comprehension dawning. This isn’t the first time one of them overheard some soc planning to give Pony a good jumping and Johnny doubts it’ll be the last, just like he knows it won’t be the last time he, Steve, and Two will fight them off before they can so much as breathe wrong in pony’s direction. Of all the secrets he keeps Johnny thinks this might be the most important, and he thinks Two and Steve feel the same way. Darry and Soda worry about Pony enough as it is, they hardly need to be terrified about him getting beat up at school too; and Pony would never forgive them fighting his battles for him. Hell, if he ever found out he’d probably pick a fight with a soc on purpose just to prove he’s tough. He still don’t get it, that he’s tough enough already for all he likes his books and movies and stuff. Not many folks can go through what Pony’s gone through and not lose a piece of themselves that Pony has kept spectacularly, miraculously, intact.

 “Said they were plannin’ on jumpin’ him after track practice,” Johnny continues, “it was some guy with a dumb haircut, and that guy I sat with in english last year. Mark somethin’?”

“Bradshaw, I think,” Steve spits, “Sounds like him and Ian Cosegrove. They were in my history class last year, and they’d probably be in Pony’s english class now he’s been moved up. One of them has that real dumb haircut?”

“That’s them.”

Two bit cracks his knuckles,  “Let’s go.”

It’s not hard to track the socs down from where they’re hanging out on the hood of some flashy mustang Johnny wished he could steal. It also isn’t hard to beat the two of them to a pulp, and their buddy who joined in too, because for all they’re football player they aren’t greasers, and they aren’t filled with the sort of fiery rage that’s coursing through Johnny’s veins, and Two-bit and Steve’s too.

Sure, no one was allowed to mess with anyone in the gang, but that went double for Ponyboy. None of them would ever be right again if anything happened to the kid, and they all knew Darry probably couldn’t survive it. Hell, Soda couldn’t either, 

Later that day, after Steve has waited around an hour to drive he and Ponyboy home just in case, Johnny hides his swollen knuckles in his jacket pockets and tucks this latest fight close to his chest, another secret best kept to himself.

He’d never have it any other way. Steve and Two wouldn’t either. The Curtis’ looked out for them all- it was only right they return the favour whenever and however they could.

Johnny listens to Pony and Steve argue, watches Two light up a cigarette, and smiles.

It’s no secret it’s tough sometimes to be a grease. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

this might be a bit long, but i've always wondered about the fundamentals of W!Steven's gem. your X-ray of his head shows that it takes up roughly 80% of his head, causing some deformities. something i want to know, does his brain wrap around his head, or does his gem replace it all together, as Canon Stevens gem replaced his organs? and surely, whichever foster parent was there when he got x-rayed, wouldnt want to stick around a kid with a giant diamond in his head, or maybe they would plan to exploit him online (like asking for "surgery" donations) but he got pulled out of the home? lastly, the dumbest question, when Stevvonnie just.. exists, does connie ever be like "ohmigosh having a rock in my head is very strange" ^-^

From the FAQ:

He is largely unaware of it, and he’s largely unaffected by it.

No, he does not technically have a brain. His gem functions as a replacement to his brain. He’s alive because…… gem stuff.

Yes, he did have trouble breathing/swallowing food as a child. He has largely adjusted to this, though, and the condition has gotten better as he has grown older, so he isn’t bothered by it.

Yes, his neck is probably wicked strong.

whichever foster parent was there when he got x-rayed, wouldnt want to stick around a kid with a giant diamond in his head, or maybe they would plan to exploit him online (like asking for "surgery" donations) but he got pulled out of the home?

In terms of this... yes! It has been mentioned in the story (Season 1) that Steven had trouble being taken into homes because many families assumed that he came with a set of health issues. Naturally, the state would need to pay for it, but it's still a big investment of time and energy, even if the money isn't a part of the problem.

when Stevvonnie just.. exists, does connie ever be like "ohmigosh having a rock in my head is very strange"

Well, Connie is Connie and Stevonnie is Stevonnie.

Connie has not yet realized just how big Steven's gem is, so she only thinks it's set into their forehead. And Stevonnie has only ever existed with the gem as a part of their being so... they kinda think it's normal!

Good question though!

If you guys wanna learn more, might I entice you to read this little itty bitty post I have pinned at the top of my blog? 👀

[youunravelme]

drops of jupiter pt. 2

author’s note: lol i accidentally posted the beginning of this part in part one, so if you saw that, no you didn’t. again, this is not a super light read, deals heavily with depression, though it’s never explicitly stated. think liability by lorde/this is me trying by taylor swift. also i’m sorry for the amount of shrugging and sighing in this fic and the first part. every character is in a constant state of idk.

warnings: cursing, drinking/getting drunk, depression

summary: being friends with your ex wasn’t the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, breaking up with him took that slot.

prompts: “I thought I was going to lose you.” / “i just need you.” / “what the hell were you thinking? / “i don’t know who you think i am but i’m not leaving.” / “feel my fucking heartbeat right now and tell me i don’t love you.”

then

“we need to get up,” jack mumbled into your neck, his arm strewn over your waist.

“why?” you asked. “we’re on vacation.”

“vacation with my family. i wouldn’t put it past my brothers to harass us any minute now.”

you hummed and snuggled further into your pillow.

a bang pounded on the door that had you both flinching. you clutched the comforter to your chest even though you were both fully clothed.

“jack get up! we’re going to work out.” you heard quinn’s voice on the other side of the door, and if you listened closely, you could hear luke snickering.

“we’re on vacation!” you called back. “come back at a reasonable hour.”

“7 is reasonable!” quinn replied.

"in what world?” you groaned. but jack got up anyway, tossing on a clean shirt and a pair of joggers. “wait, where are you going?”

jack walked over and kissed your forehead. “go back to sleep, i’ll see you later.”

you watched him walk out before shutting your eyes and succumbing to sleep once more. when you woke up next, you went downstairs and were met with ellen standing at the kitchen island eating toast and eggs.

“you’re awake!” ellen greeted. “want some breakfast?”

you nodded and took a seat at the island. “but i can make it--”

“absolutely not. you’re a guest here, and guests don’t make breakfast for themselves.” she turned around and started cracking eggs into a pan before tossing some toast in the toaster. she seasoned the eggs and let them cook before turning back around to you. “did you sleep well?” she asked. you were fully expecting a teasing tone since you did sleep in the same bed as her son, but she was being genuine.

“slept fine,” you said.

“i bet,” ellen started. “all of you were very busy yesterday.”

and she wasn’t wrong. you spent most of the day on the lake, whether that was sunbathing on the boat or wake boarding. by the time the sun set, you were exhausted. 

you glanced around the downstairs. “they still aren’t back yet?”

ellen tossed her head back and laughed. “sweetheart, it’s only been an hour since they’ve left. if anything, they’re probably headed to the ice rink by now.”

“but it’s summer, the rink should be melted?”

ellen grinned at you knowingly. “there’s a public indoor ice rink just ten minutes away. they probably went there after working out at the gym.”

“did jim go with?” ellen nodded. “so it’s just us?”

“just us.” she turned back around to plate your toast and eggs before she placed the plate in front of you. “how have you been? how’s school?”

you shrugged. “it’s been alright. nothing to write home about.”

“jack said you seem to be enjoying it.”

“it’s a step to getting where i want to be.”

“that’s what life’s about, hon. taking it step after step.”

now

you stared at your phone for what felt like years. there was no way this was your life, no way that you deserved any of the kindness that’d been shown to you. there was no earthly explanation for why jack hughes was insisting on you attending one of his games against ahaheim.

“you need to be social,” was his explanation. “besides, the boys missed you.”

quinn was in town for his game happening the next night, trevor was playing against jack and nico that night, and the plan was to go to dinner afterwards.

you were nervous to see quinn again, this being the first time you saw him since the break up. you weren’t sure how his family took it since you made a point not to text or call regardless of how much you missed them. it just wouldn’t be fair to jack.

but he met you outside the arena with a small hug and smile. “it’s been awhile, how have you been?”

you really wished people would stop asking you that.

you shrugged. “nothing much has been going on. how’ve you been? i haven’t kept up with hockey much lately.” truth be told, you didn’t want the reminder and couldn’t bear to keep using jack’s logins. you wondered if your account was still on his netflix.

quinn shrugged as well and nodded his head toward the arena so you both could start walking in. “life’s been normal, busy, but normal.”

“how’re your parents?”

quinn tucked his hands in his pockets. “they’re fine. they ask about you, miss you.”

you almost stopped walking. you never once considered yourself important enough to be noticed, let alone missed. “and luke?”

“still at michigan.”

you fell into a comfortable silence after that, something you’ve always loved about quinn, your ability to just be without any expectation of conversation. as you made your way to your seats, quinn stayed quiet, waiting until you were seated to finally say something.

“what made you come to this game?” he asked.

you wanted to shrug off his comment, to say something flippant, but you’d always been honest with quinn in the past. “jack invited me and i couldn’t say no.”

“but why?”

“i--” you paused. “i don’t know. i don’t think i could deny him of anything if he asked me.”

he nodded, seemingly content with your lackluster answer, maybe because it was the most honest one you’d given in awhile.

as the game began, quinn would make little comments here and there, mainly about jack and his performance. “he’s playing really well,” he’d say.

after jack scored a goal, you saw him scanning the crowd as nico and his teammates rushed him. but he didn’t smile until you two locked eyes. and if you smiled as well, who was to blame you? surely they’ve never seen jack hughes embody the full weight of joy. in the corner of your eye, you could see quinn smirk, but you ignored it in favor of looking at the players.

the both of you walked down to the locker rooms, flashing your lanyards jack had given quinn earlier that day. you stood outside, bouncing on your toes.

“what’s got you so antsy?” quinn asked.

you stopped. just now noticing that you were wringing your hands together. “i--uh--”

“you made it!” nico came out first with his hands open and arms spread wide in greeting. 

“why wouldn’t we be here?” quinn asked. “we made plans.”

it was a brief second, but you caught it nonetheless, the glance nico made toward you that said everything all at once. before you could comment, trevor and jack appeared, the latter having the biggest shit-eating grin you’d seen in awhile.

“who’s ready for dinner?” jack asked.

then

“if i was a worm, would you still love me?”

“what?” jack laughed, hands buried in your hair as you rested you head in his lap.

“if i was a worm--”

“no, i heard you. i was just giving you an opportunity to say something else.”  you slapped his chest lightly with your hand and abruptly sat up before scooting towards the other side of the couch. “hey no, come back.”

“not until you say that you’d still love me as a worm.”

“would i even know it was you? how did you turn into a worm?”

“an evil wizard came down and turned me into a worm. does that answer your question?”

jack grabbed ahold of your ankles and dragged you back to him. he pressed his lips to the side of your head and smiled. “i’d love you even if you were the smallest worm.”

now

jack picked out a small italian restaurant twenty minutes away from the arena. when he finally pulled up to the building (all of you riding together), your stomach sank. it looked all too familiar.

the last time you’d been there, was the last date you had before you broke things off. part of you wondered if he selected that place on purpose, but the more rational part knew it was his favorite spot in town.

the five of you walked in and got a table. it didn’t go unnoticed that as you all sat down, the only seat left was next to your ex boyfriend.

“it’s nice to have the gang back together,” nico said. “i missed you guys.” you wanted to look down at the table, but when nico made eye contact with you and smiled, you were glad you didn’t.

“are you ready to order?” the server came up and asked. “i can give you a few minutes if you’d like.”

you panicked and looked down at the menu. you hadn’t been here in so long you couldn’t recall what you enjoyed the most. by the time it made it to you, you were no closer to figuring it out.

“you okay?” jack mumbled.

you looked up to see his earnest eyes focused on you and you alone. not the boys, not the pretty server, just you. 

“i can’t remember what i usually get.”

jack reached over and pointed to the top left spot on the menu. “you used to get the carbonara.” but you weren’t looking at the menu. no. you were looking at his profile, how focused he was at reading the ingredients to make sure it was something you liked.

you knew it because it’s what he used to do all the time. 

“i’ll get the carbonara, please,” you said with a small smile.

the server walked away to place the table’s orders and conversation picked up again.

“so,” trevor started, staring you down across the table with something akin to smugness on his face. “are you seeing anyone?”

“trev,” jack cut in. 

“no, i think we should let her answer,” nico said. “i mean, it’s been awhile since we’ve all been together and caught up.”

“i--” you choked out, your heart beating hard in your chest.

“guys cmon,” jack started. “just leave it.”

there was something in you that sparked up at hearing his insistence you keep quiet. something that rebelled against the idea of staying silent.

so you spoke.

“i’ve been on a few dates.”

and the absolute devastation of jack’s face was enough to make you want to take it all back.

then

“do you really think that baseball cap is gonna hide your very recognizable face?” you asked him as you walked into yost ice arena.

“i’m hoping people will be too busy focusing on the game to look at me.”

“how could anyone ignore this handsome face?” you asked, taking your hand and squeezing his cheeks into a fish face.

he smacked your hand away and gripped it in his own, swinging it between both of your bodies. the both of you walked over to the row of seats his family saved.

his mother and father smiled at the sight of you. bringing you into a hug like you were a part of their family. and maybe, to them, you were. you and jack had been together for the better part of three years at that point.

despite not having seen his family in a few months, jack still sat on the outside with you tucked in between him and his mother with his hand resting on your thigh.

a shiver went up your spine spontaneously. jack shot you a look before he threw an arm around your shoulder, bringing you in as close as he could with an arm rest between you two.

“you okay?”

“just forgot how cold ice rinks are,” you replied in hopes he wouldn’t notice your flushed face. three years and that man could still do that to you.

"you get used to it after awhile,” he said as he kissed the side of your head. 

no, you thought. i don’t think i will.

now

dinner wasn’t as lively as it once was after your confession. trevor and nico tried to compensate, hell even quinn was making an attempt at conversation, but it was obvious you and jack’s hearts weren’t in it.

he wouldn’t stop staring at you from the corner of his eye and you couldn’t help but stare at the food he remembered you loved right before you shattered his heart again.

it wasn’t long before the five of you were headed home after nico covered the bill. jack drove, leaving you in shotgun, and everyone else in the backseat pretending the tension wasn’t suffocating. jack dropped the boys off at the arena, with nico saying he could take quinn and trevor to their hotels before they all but scrambled out of the car.

which just left the two of you idling in the parking lot.

after jack saw them get into nico’s car, you fully expected him to drive off and take you home. but he just sat there.

“how long did you wait before trying to find someone else?” he asked while staring out the windshield.

“it wasn’t like that--”

“then what was it like? what was i supposed to think? we’ve been broken up for five months now and you’ve been on multiple dates?” his voice escalated. 

part of you wanted to shrink back into the seat until you disappeared into the leather, the masochistic part of you fully believed this was what you deserved, the third part felt like a cornered predator.

and that’s what won out in the end.

“oh don’t act like you haven’t gone out with some girls--”

“i haven’t!” that shut you up really quickly. “i haven’t so much as looked at another girl since you broke up with me.” he finally looked at you, but you wished he wouldn’t have. the tears in his eyes triggered that part of you that you’d stifled the past few weeks, the part that constantly reminded you how fucked up you were.

so you did the only thing you knew how to do.

you unlocked the door--

and bolted.

then

you were signing discharge papers when jack burst into your hospital room sweating and disheveled. you smiled when he came in, using one hand to wave him closer. 

“what the hell were you thinking? falling off a ladder? what was so important you couldn’t wait until i got home?” he walked over to you and straight into your arms anyway, despite his chiding tone.

the nurse took the papers away to be filed and left him with you.

“it’s just a broken ankle,” you said like one would talk about the weather. “it’ll be healed in a matter of weeks.”

jack pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “i don’t like it. i hate that you got hurt and i wasn’t there.”

“the only one at fault here is me, jack. i was trying to hang up...” you trailed off. 

“hang up what?” he asked.

but the nurse came back in with a wheelchair and a smile. “you’re free to go, hon.”

jack wheeled you out to the lobby. the nurse waited with you while he pulled his car up. when his car was parked in the front, he ran back inside and helped you get settled onto your crutches, walking behind you with his hands prepared to catch you should you slip. he helped you into the passenger seat before jogging around the front of the car to drive off.

“so what were you hanging up when you fell off the ladder?”

you smirked. “you’ll see.”

jack rolled his eyes. “if it’s the pictures we got printed, i told you i’d get to it.”

“like i said, baby, you’ll see when you get home.”

he parked in the driveway and told you to stay put until he could help you get out of the car. once you were situated on your crutches, he glanced at you, your leg, and the stairs you would inevitably have to climb before he squatted down and gestured for you to climb on.

“jack, i don’t think this is necessary--”

“i think it’ll go faster if you just hop on and get it over with.”

you sighed and climbed on his back with one arm loosely wrapped around his neck, the other holding onto your crutches, his arms holding your legs in place around his hips. jack went up the stairs with little to no struggle, which just baffled you. even after living in your third floor apartment for eight months, you still found yourself winded after going up all those steps.

“each and every day you find a new way to impress me, hughes,” you commented,

“yeah? what is it this time?”

“how you don’t feel like dying every time you walk up these stairs.”

he laughed but didn’t offer a response.

“no, i’m serious,” you said. “what’s your secret.”

“being a professional athlete,’ he deadpanned.

you threw your head back and laughed as his foot hit the final stair. jack gently placed you down on the ground while you got situated on your crutches again. 

“you good?” he asked.

you nodded. “i’m fine.”

jack unlocked the front door and nearly fell backwards into you when a loud “happy birthday” erupted from inside your apartment. 

you nudged him forward with your non injured foot but he took a moment to glare at you. “you broke your leg to hang up birthday banners?”

you leaned in and kissed him. “happy birthday, jack.”

now

“get in the car.” jack had opened his door and gotten out almost as fast as you had.

but you shook your head and kept walking. “no.”

jack caught up to you rather easily, being in better shape than you for professional reasons. he gently grabbed your wrist and turned you around. “i don’t know who you think i am but i’m not leaving you here. it’s late, we’re in the middle of a parking lot--”

“it’s well lit--”

“and you’re not wearing a coat,” he continued on like you weren’t even talking. “you’re gonna get sick or kidnapped so please just get back in the car.”

“i can’t,” you whispered.

“why not?”

“because you keep looking at me like you hate me.”

that stopped him dead cold in his tracks. any movement he had, whether it was his hands running through his hair or his pacing back and forth. “what?” and you wanted to take it all back just so you didn’t have to hear how broken one syllable could sound.

and then the tears started, the embarrassment and humiliation and the shame from your confession earlier catching up to you finally. “and i don’t blame you because i was awful to you."

“why would you think that?”

“because everyone does!” and you’re so close to tearing your hair out in frustration. with whom? you weren’t sure if it was frustration aimed at yourself or jack or the situation.

“i’m not everyone,” he said in the quietest tone you’d ever heard him speak. “okay? i could never hate you, even if i wanted to.”

you kept sobbing. “you are way too good for me, jack hughes.”

but he shook his head and brought you into his chest, lips pressed to the top of your head. “that’s not true,” he said. “not even remotely close.” a beat passed. “i love you.”

“jack--”

he took your hand and placed it over his chest. “feel my fucking heartbeat right now and tell me i don’t love you.”

“i can’t do this,” you whispered.

“why not? do you not believe me?”

“i’m no good for you, jack! this won’t work. please, just take me home.”

then

a knock drew you out of your reverie from staring at the mirror and obsessing over your flyaways. 

“it’s for you!” your roommate called. you giggled. actually giggled to yourself at the idea of jack standing in your living room with your roommates.

you rushed out, dress flaring at your thighs. jack turned around at the sound of you coming out of your room and smiled with a bouquet daffodils in his hands.

“you uh--” he stuttered. “you look amazing.”

“do a little twirl,” your roommate giggled.

you spun around before walking over to jack. “hi.”

“are you ready?” he asked once he got his bearings.

you nodded. “just let me put these in a vase--”

“i got it!” your roommate said. “you two have fun!” she said before all but shoving you out of the door.

“so what do you have planned?” you asked once you were on the road. you weren’t nervous per se, having known jack for a year before he finally asked you out. 

“would you stop?” he laughed. “you’ll find out when we get there.”

you huffed and sat back in your seat, looking out the window while jack played some country music on his phone. when he finally parked, you recognized the arena almost immediately as the one he played in regularly.

“you took your day off from the ice rink to bring me...to the ice rink?”

jack rolled his eyes. “have some faith. stay here,” he said before popping out of the car and jogging around to your side to let you out.

“i could’ve gotten out myself,” you said.

“i know,” he shrugged. “but thank you for waiting anyway.”

you walked inside together, hand in hand. jack led you to the locker rooms where he picked up a bag and took your hand again before leading you to the rink.

before you was a blanket in the middle of the rink with a basket full of what you assumed was food.

“you didn’t,” you said.

jack shrugged.

“but how are we gonna get out there? i don’t have skates.”

he unzipped the bag in his hand and pulled out a pair of skates. “your roommate told me what size shoe you wore. i figured we could eat and then i could show you how to skate.” he explained.

“you bought these?” you asked.

he shrugged again. “yeah, but it was nothing.”

but it wasn’t nothing to you. it was everything. 

now

you get the call at 4pm from an athletic trainer asking for your name. your heart settles in your throat when you hear the mention of jack’s name.

“there’s been an accident at the game tonight, he’s being rushed to the hospital right now. we called because he has you listed as his emergency contact.”

“o-okay,” you whispered into the phone. “which hospital is he going to?” the athletic trainer gave you the information as you hurried out the door in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt and slippers. 

you didn’t remember to go the speed limit, hell by the time you got to the hospital, you weren’t even sure if you ran a red light or not. all you could focus on was jack.

jack was hurt.

jack was hurt.

jack was hurt.

you needed to call ellen. you needed to call jim. you needed to call that old lady who lived across the hall and ask her to check if you locked your front door. but all of that took a backseat because jack was hurt.

when you parked, you were taking up two spaces, but didn’t give a fuck because you were sprinting to the front doors of the hospital. “hi,” you greeted the front desk woman. “i’m here for my boyfriend?”

“you’ll have to be a little more specific, baby,” she said.

“i--”

you heard your name being called and whipped your head around to see the athletic trainer standing there. “i can show you to his room, follow me.”

you nearly cried in relief and followed the trainer. “do you know what’s going on?”

the trainer shook her head. “we had an idea, but we’re not doctors.”

you nodded, unable to say anything else, even as you entered the elevator. the both of you walked out of the elevator and headed down a long hallway to the very end. she gestured at the door and nodded for you to go in.

you couldn’t breathe. not when even when you saw him laying in bed laughing at a tiktok on his phone with his left leg propped up.

he looked up when you walked in the room. “hey--” but he didn’t have time to finish before you were sprinting across the room, grabbing his face in your hands, and kissing the life out of him.

it took him a second, but he responded fairly quickly, his own hands winding around your waist. you weren’t sure how much time passed before you were pulling away and looking him in the eyes. 

“are you okay?” he nodded, rendered speechless by your display of affection. “i’m sorry, they called me and i freaked out and i didn’t even get to change--”

“did you--” he looked at you, more specifically what you were wearing. “you’re not wearing pants or a coat. are you insane? it’s freezing outside and you’re not even wearing real shoes!”

“they said you were hurt,” you said like it explained everything. “i couldn’t think, i just dropped everything and...”

“why?

“i--”

“you rejected me the other night, which is fine, it sucked, but it’s fine. but it doesn’t explain why you showed up. i think i at least deserve an answer.”

you do, you thought to yourself. that and so much more.

“i’m your emergency contact,” you replied.

“shit,” he said. “sorry i forgot to change that, i’ll--”

“and you’re still mine.” he stopped his rambling as you stroked his cheeks with your thumbs. “when i got the call, i thought i was gonna lose you.” 

“you’re never gonna lose me, baby.” he moved your hands off his face so he could hold yours. “i’m yours, always have been, always will be.”

“i love you,” you smiled.

and it was like the sun came out in the middle of that hospital room when he smiled back at you. jack pulled your lips to his, or at least tried to. you both kept smiling too much for it to fully be considered a kiss.

“do you remember,” you said against his mouth. “do you remember when you moved out and took all our stuff?” 

“mhm,” he hummed, but he was too busy chasing after your lips.

“i kept the skates.”

[oh-no-its-bird]

Sat down and was like "What's the dumbest, most out of pocket crossover I can think of with Naruto." Then remembered that one guy who just went "Madoka magica" under my TMA crossover post and started giggling

So yeah, @thr33dogsinatrenchcoat this one goes out to you, I hope ur happy

So my first thought was just Homura in Naruto, but then my brain said no. Kyubey in Naruto. And then I really lost it

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you,

✨️ magical girl Kakashi ✨️

Major Spoilers for Madoka Magica below the cut

(Funilly enough, this has been in my drafts for a while now, well before I started getting really into my magical girl izuna AU)

A quick explanation for those of you here for Kakashi content who have no clue what Madoka Magica is;

Kyubey is a pink immortal rat thing from space who offers specifically pre-teen girls contracts to become magical girls. The girl will be granted a wish as their payment for the contract, then have to fight monsters known as Witches.

How big the wish that they can have granted (wishing for a cake vs wishing to revive the dead for example) depends on their potential as a magical girl. The girls magical girl theme and power will revolve around whatever wish they made— ask for someone to be healed and you may be able to heal faster, ask for happiness and maybe you get to be an empath, etc. As long as you can somehow connect the power to their wish, anything is fair game.

It's later revealed that a) the "soul gem" every magical girl is given when they become a magical girl is literally their soul in physical form. Kyubey just straight up removed their soul from their body and put it in a ROCK. Yes this does mean you can torture a magical girl via her soul gem, and yes if the soul gem gets too far from the girl she will collapse like a puppet who's strings were cut.

And b) witches are actually magical girls who fall victim to negative emotions and have their soul gems consumed by darkness either because they were swallowed by grief or from using too much magic without being able to clean their soul gem (which they can only do by killing witches)

Kyubey does all this because magical girls specifically within the age range of a middle schooler, give off a specific kind of energy when they transform into the witches that Kyubey's race farms for reasons I don't really remember anymore but I'm pretty sure has to do with it being mandatory for their race to live? Dunno it's been years since I watched madoka

Ok context over now for the fun part:

Something about the way humans are made in this world means Kyubey is not restricted to prepubescent girls in offering contracts. It's probably related to their chakra coils or something; Which also translates interestingly into how your amount of chakra and your chakra control affects your power as a magical girl.

Both of which Kakashi has in the bag.

I've read a few different takes about how Kakashi's chakra reserves are actually really big, he's just always running dangerously low bc of the constant drain of the sharingan. (I think this was actually confirmed in one of the novels? Which is neat) And since the overall 'potential' of his maximum chakra reserves is what wins out when it comes to the magical girl contract, he's our ideal customer.

Now, for this set up we aren't going to be using the "Kyubey and the magical girl system have just been around for a long while" but instead we're going with the "kyubey is new to this world and, seeing all of this potential energy, is looking to take a few of these bad boys on a test drive to see how well they work."

(Though there's a very interesting fic there with the angle of kyubey as maybe the equivalent of a 10th secret biiju, maybe locked away somewhere, and maybe released by forming a contract with someone— His junchuriki perhaps?)

This brings up an interesting question! A world where theyre havent been any magical girls yet made means that its a world without witches. And in a world without witches, what is Kyubey's explanation for why he needs magical girls when asked?

In the show we are shown that if pressed and asked the right questions, Kyubey will often tell the truth of the matter — that eventually a magical girl will self destruct and Kyubey farms the energy they release when they turn into a witch.

I can't see any shinobi worth their salt just accepting a suspicious contract for even more suspicious power from an impossibly MORE suspicious little magic rat thing. Kakashi especially. Questions WILL be asked and I do think it wouldn't actually be that hard to get Kyubey to give up the truth. Honestly, knowing the things personality and how it likes to take the logical approach, he might see that just telling the truth may actually help convince some people.

Because yeah, horrible fate aside, it's a lot easier to buy into promises of power when you know exactly what the catch will eventually be, and when it'll probably start kicking in.

There's a lot of people in Naruto who would can and have traded a LOT more than just their soul for power and a free wish. I can see people taking Kyubeys deal as is, Kakashi included under the right circumstances.

And besides that, there are plenty of times when the situation is last minute and intense to have the time to ask questions. Kyubey appearing in some life or death battle offering a miracle would probably be able to get a "fuck it what's the worst that can happen" from pretty much anyone

Anyways there are a few different paths we can take with the how's and why's Kakashi becomes a magical girl, and it largley depends on when exactly Kyubey approaches him about it.

1; Minato Route

Wishes for Minato and everyone to please just stay safe during "Madara's" attack, saving them and trading his soul for it in the process. He has no regrets tho, he refuses to.

This path I think would be fun if Kyubey shows up for the first time super last minute and Kakashi is pressed into a rushed contract and rushed wish. But I can also see if maybe he'd been approached by Kyubey beforehand, it's just that he was trying to sort out whether he trusted the rat enough to make a deal and sort out the exact wording of his wish. But oops no more time for that Kyubey please just keep his family safe!

It'd be fun if that was his exact wording actually. "I wish to keep my family safe"

Maybe it'd mean that even in the future, if he finds someone he considers to be his family, the wish will grow and apply to them? And then ""safe"" is such an abstract concept, especially to shinobi. What does it mean to be safe? Maybe it can end up backfiring in some way eventually, idk

2; Obito Route

^ Like he considers obito family, so maybe Obito is out there reaping the benefits of this wish as he tears shit up bc Kakashi never considered his wish could protect someone who might wish him harm.

This'd also mean Minato and Kushina are around!!! That'd impact a fuck ton of stuff for sure. I feel like without them dissapearing as his final push off the edge, Kakashi for sure wouldn't be the same guy we see in canon. He at least has some form of safety net to catch him, even if he's deep in depression and might not realize that net is there.

After either Kanabi bridge or Rin's death, Kakashi is approached by Kyubey, reads the terms and conditions of the contract, and then wishes for Obito and or Rin to come back to life. This, specifically with Obito, I see going one of two ways;

Kyubey, a bastard, who somehow magically knows Obito is alive: "Are you sure this is what you want to use your wish for?"

Kakashi: "fuck you yes I am"

Kyubey: "I mean if you say so lmao" (Less work for me)

Or,

Kyubey, somehow magically knowing Obito is alive and not wanting to have Kakashi waste this wish because say what you will, he's fair about this shit (to a degree anyways): "Unfortunatley I can't revive people who never died!"

Kakashi: "What."

*queue Kakashi going on a mission to find Obito and becoming a sparkly magical girl along the way wooo we love to see it*

3; The great dilemma, aka TIME TRAVEL !!!!!!!!!!!!

He failed Itachi, leading to the deaths of the entire Uchiha clan.

I'm so sorry you guys time travel is like 90% of what I do and I don't think it's gonna change any time soon

So, Kakashi is approached by Kyubey after the Uchiha massacre. At this point he has a whole fucking list of people he might want to try to revive or save, but he can only make a wish so big. He has enough power to wish one or two people back from the dead— an honestly incredibly feat in itself —but not everyone.

He failed his team, leading to their deaths and Naruto's sad orphan life.

He failed countless mission partners over the years, watching shinobi's fall dead left and right because of a wrong call or knife thrown a second too late

Now for his relationship with Kyubey—

He can't wish them all back. But he can wish for a second chance.

And yeah ok as I'm writing this I'm realizing we've turned right back around and started a fr Madoka magica AU I didn't mean to do that actually, oops.

But yeah time travel magical girl Kakashi !!! Given the time to really think about his wish and too many people to save, he wishes for a second chance.

Does he end up in his kid body or does he stay an 18 year old?

Is he alone or does Kyubey (having learned his mistake from Homura and Madoka) make sure to come along with?

Does his sharingan somehow pull Obito back with him or is he really alone?

Fuck ok actually as I write this one I think this might be The One, The AU, so we're gonna shelve this for another post on its own so we can keep just talking ab the set up.

So disclaimer, I haven't actually watched Madoka in forever, but I think it's safe to say that Kyubey is honestly pretty decent when it comes to guiding his magical girls? I mean, up until they fall off a cliff of despair and turn into monsters, but till then he holds up his end of the contract really well? He'll generally come when they call, answer their questions when asked, check in on them to make sure they're adapting to the lifestyle, sometimes even help keep them informed about local magical girls or witches or just give out free advice.

Don't get me wrong, Kyubey is a fucking rat and not to be trusted, he tricks little girls into literally selling their souls, but he has a clear work ethic and method. He's just also incapable of feeling human emotion and seems genuinely confused at why people would be alarmed or upset at, you know, everything.

But I think that's what would make him work so well in a shinobi world! Especially if he looks at the world and it's people and decides that upfront honesty would be the best play in recruiting someone as his magical girl test drive.

I think it could be interesting if Kakashi and Kyubey could have an actually somewhat positive relationship. Well, as positive as it can get for a traumatized ninja boy and a space rat with no real concept of human emotions outside of what it's read in a textbook about manipulating little girls.

They have an alarmingly functional workplace relationship. Kakashi signed a contract knowing what kind of death it'd probably lead him to (and it's not like it's that different from the end he already knows he'll face one day) and Kyubey is contractually bound to stick around and lend a helping hand and a bit of companionship when applicable.

Also, with Kakashi being his first magical girl test run in this world, he's just kind of monitoring the project? He wants to see it to the end before he gets started on widespread magical girl contracts, because again, logical emotionless little rat thing who knows better than to assume that since it's gone well so far it'll end well too. He wants to collect ALL the data before settling in for good.

Kyubey is giving Kakashi weirdly reaffirming (and much needed) positive reinforcement in all of this. He's impressed with how well the project is going! Kakashi is going through so much constant misery that despite somehow not turning into a witch out of despair, he's still giving a near constant output of that same energy Kyubey farms that usually only comes out when a magical girl witches out. Maybe that's also actually something related to the chakra coils— instead of giving one big explosion of energy when they turn into a witch, the people of this world are able to give a continuous stream of it just by existing and being miserable. Which also gives Kyubey even more of a reason to want to see Kakashi keep living! This guy is a one man army when it comes to energy! It's great!

Also it'd be kind of fucked up but in a funny way if Kyubey straight up told Kakashi this (Maybe Kakashi actually asks to be kept up to date on all of Kyubey's little project notes of studying him?) And it being somewhat of a comfort to him. Like. Yeah, he's a failure cursed to always have those he loves die in his arms or at his hands, but at least his suffering is helping the universe in some way! That's something, right? Right???

Anyways, power and appearence time

So like, obviously there's a VERY large chance that Kakashi would end up with some sort of healing power as a magical girl. Because yknow, there is basically no universe where Kakashi doesn't use his wish to either heal someone, protect someone, or bring someone back from the dead— which lines up pretty directly to a healing based power.

But just normal healing is too boring so lets get spicy with it! Let's lay out some power options!

1) Blood healing

So my favorite twist on a normal healing power is a simple one; He regenerates stupid fast, to the point that he can even reattach limbs, but it's all in his blood. As long as his blood is touching a wound, it's healed in seconds to minutes.

This is also means his blood can also be used to heal others! For good or for bad. Fights can get a lot more complicated when your enemy realizes that they can use your own healing methods on them— even if the blood does only work on what it can touch, so they gotta risk shoving that shit in there if the wound is too deep.

If you want an extra bit of spice on top of that also, you can say the blood doesn't just heal people. Maybe it can heal any living thing— plants included

(I'm ngl I typed all this out then kind of squinted at my screen and went wait isn't this what Karin does? I don't actually know the details of her powers no one tell me if I'm right, I don't actually care)

2) Wound substitution

Here's an incredibly in character ability; He can take on the wounds of his comrades. They get hurt but he takes the hit. It'd so fit his self sacrificing ass too.

Maybe he can have advanced healing from the wounds he steals from his companions, maybe he only inherits them by halves, maybe it's the full deal.

Maybe it's involuntary or maybe he can only do it on purpose. Involuntary could be interesting and offer serious consequences down the line.

I'd love to see a dog themed magical girl Kakashi I think it would cure all of my mental illnesses and give me like 30 more.

3) Sheilds but make them zappy

Thunder shields could be interesting. Maybe he can use the shields to encase his limbs to deliver an extra oomf or smthn, just for funzies.

4) Something to do with eyes

You know I gotta at least consider smthn with eyes, like cmon. Whether it's because his wish was phrased in a way that could catch on it, or it's just how the magic interacted with his sharingan, I wanna see some eye stuff!!!

Maybe whatever healing ability he has is all centered in the eye or smthn, or maybe if it's like a self healing ability he regenerates eyes first or smthn idk.

4) Time powers ✨️

You know I had to.

In the route where he wishes for a second chance he so gets time powers. It's very cool. It's also very very fucking OP so it'd be tricky to work around in giving him a fr obstacle. Maybe if Obito comes back with him, the sharingan somehow makes him immune? Like, whenever Kakashi stops time, Obito isn't stopped.

I'm ngl Im running low on power ideas rn so let's move on, but like leave that open ended

Would Kakashi's magical girl outfit be something that adapts to his style and is created by his subconscious desires, as I'm pretty sure is accurate according to Madoka Magica lore? Yes. But do I think it would be funny to put him in a fluffy magical girl skirt? Even bigger yes, put that man in a dress and heels immediatley.

For Kakashi's soul gem, I think it'd be really fun if instead of taking the form of a ring, it was instead either an earring or— hear me out guys, lip ring or tongue piercing

It's perfect! He already hides his face, no one would even know it was there! Also both lip rings and tongue piercings are so cute

His soul gem is red with a silver case and we all know why. When he transforms it doesn't glow red tho, it glows white because something something hatake white chakra or something, idk

Anyways this has been sitting in my drafts for like 2 weeks now, so I'm gonna go ahead and hit post even tho I'm not totally satisfied with what I have here. Better to put it out for the few who'd enjoy it than keep it in the trunk bc I'm unsatisfied, right? Maybe I'll come back to it later, idk.

[ideas-4-stories]

Inspired by the "buggy gets stabbed with a seastone knife but defeats the assassin" anon and subsequent post.

Buggy really would have had SO MANY SCARS. He's immune to cuts and chops and slices. Not blunt force trauma, burns, bullets, whips, etc. Also he was a pirate apprentice on GOL D. ROGER'S SHIP!! He ate that devil fruit young, sure, but he was still a pirate before then and I highly doubt that that, nor whatever his early life was, would lead to pristine, unblemished skin.

Also - freckles. Give Buggy Freckles 2024.

Anyway, yeah, Buggy would have a MOSAIC of scars and tattoos - many of which have meanings the likes of which are lost to most. Also projection, but Buggy has a medusa tattoo somewhere on his person. Yes the one who did the tattoo for him was on the crew, and still is. Yes they are also the defacto therapist on the island. It's good pay and they get to add Names to the I'll Kill Them One Day list ((it's a whole book. With five volumes. It's on going.))

I have... an angry idea. For Buggy shrugging off seastone wounds and using his own injury as an opening. Roger would have wanted the boys STRONG but happy and safe. He saw so much of himself in Shanks that the attention was perceived as preferential treatment. Shanks was the heavy hitter with potential and skill and charisma -

Buggy was the supporting cast.

Rayleigh, unable to help Roger through the illness, through so many things, projected that onto Buggy ((Very Pearl + Connie, if you know Steven Universe, before Steven stepped in to set that record straight)). Ray would make sure Buggy was strong enough for Shanks. He put that kid through the WRINGER, and it was arguably hell. Buggy came out stronger but also far more terrified - so much so that he struggled to even utilize that strength in any true way. Rayleigh declared it a failure. Apologized to Buggy for 'failing to make him good enough'.

This did a number on him.

One thing that lasted was his frankly unsettling tolerance to water and seastone. He still works on it, and he never quite dropped it. He always has at least one seastone earring in because it's both smth he HAS to do and also it slows down his brain a little, dulling the edge of his normal panic. Like a crystal girlie but far more literal.

This isn't his first rodeo with seastone weapons either - he may have been in the East, but he was still a decently renowned criminal with a hefty bounty. He's an old hand at this!

Still hurts like a bitch though.

He'd absolutely make the dumbest puns too. "Don't worry, I'm in STABle condition! :oD"

"You need stitches, you utter buffoon."

"That wasn't very- hnn- knife of you."

"Please pass out from bloodloss."

"You cut me so deep, Hawkyyy- OW?!"

"Seas save me"

Crocodile is fighting between yelling louder, committing three felonies, laughing, and shutting the clown up. Be it by choking him or kissing him is up for debate. The doctor, used to Buggy's antics, just hands him a fidget toy. "Don't touch the wound, my supplies or try to move yet. Solve the rubix cube before you even consider getting up."

"Boring-"

"I'll tell the kitchen to make hotdogs if you do."

Buggy is now very focused on the pretty color cube.

Oh, referring to this post gotcha!

Yeah, Buggy totally would because he’s a chemist, working with all those bombs and the guy looks like he would trip sometimes while working. Buggy has to have burn scars (I’m pretty sure somewhere, someone said that Buggy has star-shaped, firework burns on his hands. Part of the reason he hides his hands away, I like that idea even that means Buggy got hurt) Now it an idea that I got when I was half-asleep, that I read in the morning with confusion… a cannonball… I don’t why my sleepy brain decided that, but now thinking about it would have to be a ricochet cannonball that he survived from (to be honest Buggy seems like a person who would survive a cannonball to the head, like some Monkey family we know) Then with probably the logical route of bullets, whips, etc… are from being hunted by marines and enemies of the Roger Pirates before he somehow blends into the background and people forgot about him.

I would say Buggy would have eaten his devil fruit around nine years old, for the AU I’m trying to writ… Also freckles… HELL FUCK YEAH!!! I love that idea; it would be so cute on him!!! Scattered all around his body, totally seen him connecting them into shapes and patterns when he’s bored and has nothing else to do.

Definably, he’s a pirate, of course he has many scars, and Buggy having at least 10 tattoos ranging from large too small. I don’t think Buggy ever has sat someone down to explain them, or maybe he has and stopped because people not understanding. Ooooooo, I look up what the Medusa tattoo means, I like to think it’s for survival and strength. With my idea for two long tattoos, I think they would be a mixture of different flowers with hidden things between them - like hidden treasure to find, those tattoos have meanings as well as some funny ones around his body as well. Because it’s Buggy, of course, he will at least have one fucking funny one.

I love an idea their defacto therapist, I think I’ve already have a OC for the job and yes, love the book called I'll Kill Them One Day list. Love that it has five volumes, you know some of those names are crossed off and it continues to grow.

This is an angry idea indeed, poor Buggy… as we see that Buggy is not supporting cast, with his followers (they are like cult followers in a way) and his crew. Basically pushed to the side for Shanks to be the one in the spotlight as the “leader” of the two (I definitely doubt that Shanks didn’t look up to Buggy during sometimes when they were cabin boys)

Oh fuck, no wonder why Buggy hasn’t talk to Rayleigh and makes my idea of them meeting as cold and awkward. Like Rayleigh would greet with nicknames from long ago, expecting the same as what he remembered last of Buggy, only to have Buggy to greet him coldy. Either, with Dark King Rayeleigh or Slivers Rayleigh instead of nicknames that he use to call Rayleigh.

Why…why projected his problems onto Buggy! Like of course that did a number on Buggy, ecspeaily after Ray apologized to Buggy for ‘failing to make him good enough’... You can’t say that to a fucking child, you know they will think it’s all their fault! I mean look at Buggy, he already has enough problems with his self-esteem, he doesn’t need anymore!!!

Poor Buggy, going thtough hell because Rayleigh wants him strong like him to keep Shanks safe because he’s being as stupid as Roger. It makes sense that Buggy can’t use his strength because of being afraid and worrying so much (Buggy is definitely a worry-wort)

I agree with Buggy has an high tolerance to water and seastone, I mean Buggy seemed to of been a really good swimmer from how angry he is from Shanks scaring him and making him swallow the Bara Bara fruit (if not, then it’s a headcanon for me that he’s a really good swimmer before he swallowed the devil fruit) You think he would just stop going into the water? I mean I can see Buggy finding those small pools of water on a beach… I forgot what they are called, anyway you think he wouldn’t go in them to feel the sea? I think Buggy would.

Oooooo a seastone earring or some other type of seastone jewelry on his body. That’s interesting, I’ve never thought about it. The seastone helps him corrals his chop chop powers from doing all the time as well. Calming his brain, dulling the edge of his normal panic is a clever way, bro probably found how much seastone he needs to do so. From this post, Buggy has to have some edibles mixed into brownies or some other type of pastry (it’s now a headcanon for me) Dude has to have some drugs to calm down with the stress that Crocodile and Mihawk have put him through.

Yeah, it's definitely not Buggy’s first rodeo with seastone weapons, I can see Buggy being hunted by people during the time after Roger was killed and I see that’s the time where most of his seastone wounds came from. I wonder now if Buggy hordes the seastone weapons that people attacked him with?… I’ve decided yes, Buggy would keep them.

I stand for Buggy making the dumbest and baddest puns when he is hurt, especially when he gets attacked by seastone weapons. It takes his mind off of the pain they give him (Also the banter between Buggy and Mihawk you made is chefs’ kiss)

Both Crocodile and Mihawk just being done with Buggy and quite disturbed by how Buggy handles his pain. Mihawk wants him to shut up and sit still, while Crocodile is fighting between screaming, committing felonies (like he hasn’t committed felonies more than enough), laughing his ass off, then wanting to either choke Buggy or kiss him to shut the clown up. That’s so them, and Buggy is getting a little shit like always.

This doctor is just like the doctor OC; Kuo-Lee, I’ve created to be the Buggy Pirates medic. Really, being done with what Buggy does and uses things to keep him still. This is so right, handing him a fidget toy, saying that if he is good than he’ll tell the kitchens to give their captain is favorite food. Yeah, that will make Buggy sit as still as he can, to be honest, Buggy isn’t one to sit still.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐀 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨 [𝐋𝐒𝟏𝟖] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

photo credits: Pinterest

Pairing: Lance Stroll × Fem!Reader

Summary: Asking the driver of the team you work for to attend a wedding with you as your fake date is possibly one of the dumbest ideas you've had ever.. but also one of the best.

Warnings: angst, lottssss of fluff cause u guys deserve some, lots of mentions of alcohol, basically a party lmao

A/N: I’ve got ideas for a mini-series with Lando and one-shots with Max but I need to finish this off before I get carried away elsewhere!! ALSO, super sorry for the late update but it’s been a hectic last few weeks with weddings (summers are BUSY) but yep, finally dialled down and ready to post!

Listen to 'Ho Hey' by The Lumineers during the dancing part, it's such a feel good song :')

Word Count: 3.4k words (12 mins reading time avg)

…

"Ow." You say monotonously as Lance rewraps the elastic bandage, then loosens it amidst your very nonchalant way of expressing agitation.

"The bruising's little better, you just gotta try and keep it straight." You nod, turning your attention to your sister who slid her chicken off of her fork by her teeth.

Lance turned to face his body forward again, tugging the sleeves of his blazer down. He watched as you directed your gaze towards your knee, carefully adjusting the bandage a couple of inches higher to prevent any itchiness.

"Can't believe you hurt it the day of the wedding." You shrug, fiddling with the hem of your dress and stretching your leg out, being careful as to not collide it with someone else's foot beneath the table.

"Just my luck," you settled on an answer and took a sip from your wine glass which desperately needed refilling if you wanted to let the thoughts of your damned knee waft out of your mind.

As if on cue, the waiter who was serving your group tonight popped open and poured a few inches of content from a fresh bottle into your glass. You refrained from asking him to hand you the entire thing. Once he'd began tending to someone else, you spared no moment in taking another sip, though this one was much longer than the previous one.

It didn't slip your notice how Lance leaned in, his words laced with a faint concern.

"You do know alcohol slows your healing down." You only give him a side eye, your lips touching the rim of the glass. Maybe you paused for a brief moment to register what he'd told you, but it didn't matter because you resumed consumption of the liquid seconds later.

He chuckled, shaking his head. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something else but his eyebrows raised in attention as his head whisked to meet your brother.

"Try some of the sushi mate," he prodded hospitably, but Lance brought a hand to his stomach, "I'm not a fan of it. I'm sure it's been well-made but I've tried it a few times in the past."

"Ah." He paused before your mum cut in, she was dabbing her napkin to either side of her lips. "Y/N, you should've told us. I would've asked for something else to be made." You really wanted to roll your eyes, she definitely wouldn't have. In fact, had she known, she probably would've asked for just seafood to be made.

"No harm done." Lance smiled, seeing the impatience with your mom already bubbling up evidently on your face. "Do you cook?" Your mother didn't stop there though as she recaptured his attention.

"I do sometimes, yes." His response took you by surprise, you'd never pegged him as the cooking type. Yet, the revelation only added to his allure in your mind.

"What, tea and toast?" She covered with a laugh though you knew it was a subtle dig, it didn't seem to occur to the man besides you as he only breathily laughed with her, assuming lightheartedness but there was nothing lighthearted about her.

"He can make plenty of things." You added, injecting a touch of seriousness into the conversation. Lance's eyes briefly flickered towards you, his eyebrows furrowing in a slight downward motion.

"Oh?" She sounded surprised, he was quick in interjecting to downplay the sudden admittance. "Y/N's hyping me up," he smiled then continued, "um no a-a couple of things sure. Just practical stuff."

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, noting his growing nervousness as he struggled to comprehend the atmosphere surrounding the conversation. You could sense the tension in the air, a feeling that lingered.

Releasing a sigh, you made a conscious effort to ease the growing awkwardness, forcing a smile as you lifted your gaze once again. "A man of many talents," you commented, aiming to lighten the mood.

Lance smiled at your compliment, remaining modest as he nodded appreciatively in your direction. It was evident that he was grateful you didn't let your mother's remarks affect your mood.

...

A few of the guests were beginning to leave the dinner table, the party now beginning to bleed on to the dance floor. You were slouched in your chair, going through your Instagram when Lance stood up.

"Where you going?" You asked him, though soon to be regretting it when his smile widened. "To dance. And you're coming with me."

Your eyes widen in horror, "I don't- no. I-" He doesn't let you finish your sentence, already tugging your hand up as you slide your phone flat on to the dinner table.

"My knee." You say in a matter-of-fact tone but you know it's not nearly as bad as it was earlier, the compression doing wonders for it.

Lance sees right through your lies because his grip on your hand doesn't loosen, "I'll be careful." You quickly join the assumption that he wanted to dance with you, not just have you up there to lessen his own embarrassment.

"I-" He tuts, "come on."

"Go have fun Y/N. It's not like this opportunity'll come 'round again." Your aunt wags her eyebrows suggestively, and Lance tilts his head towards her, wordlessly agreeing with the cheeky grin on his lips still very much prominent.

"You've definitely had more to drink than I have." He laughs, successfully helping you stand up and guiding you to the dance floor. He moved to the rhythm of the music, already grooving as he walked.

Suddenly, he tugged on your hand, causing you to turn towards him. Your eyes locked as his gaze swept over your body before returning to meet yours. With a playful smirk, he lifted your hand and drew you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist.

As the beat pulsated through the air, he began to shimmy his shoulders, a glint in his eyes. A smile adorned his lips when you instinctively started swaying your hips, matching his energy.

"I don't know where I belong, I don't know where I went wrong, but I can write a song," Lance sang along with the words, his voice as silky as butter. Oblivious to the effect he was having on you, he seamlessly continued on to the chorus, his energy contagious and captivating. You struggled to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings surging through your veins.

A genuine smile graced your lips as Lance playfully tried to engage you in the dance, guiding your arms and encouraging any movement. Laughter bubbles forth as he effortlessly twists you every which way. In the midst of the moment, the encounter with your mother fades into insignificance, and any lingering irritation dissipates.

You're overwhelmed with appreciation for the lengths your 'boyfriend' is willing to go to keep up an appearance.

Lance extends his arm, spinning you around before pulling you close, your bodies meeting. Your forearms align with his chest, and his hands firmly hold yours against his body as he continues to sing.

The lyrics escape his lips, "I belong with you, you belong with me, you're my sweetheart," and in that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance that feels like pure magic.

You're already breathing a little heavier after the song had ended, beads of sweat trickling down your forehead but the man who'd constantly been spinning and twirling you around looked effortlessly handsome still. The perks of being fit, you supposed.

"I love this song." You listened a little closer then laughed when Lance began singing again, but messed up the lyrics a little.

"It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something stu- dumb to do." The note way off-key meant you couldn't help but chuckle, finding his imperfection endearing. Your head naturally found its place nestled in the dip of his collarbone as he joined in with your laughter.

Moments later, you lifted your head, resuming the dance with him. Once the chorus had begun, he quickly found his rhythm, the music guiding his movements flawlessly.

As the DJ continued to spin songs perfectly suited for a lively and exuberant wedding reception, a few guests eventually broke off from the floor to take a break or grab another drink.

However, you and Lance showed no signs of faltering. Fuelled by the atmosphere, you both remained in sync, undeterred by the fact that it'd been a while you'd been dancing. The music seemed to invigorate you, carrying you both through the night as you danced with unwavering enthusiasm, creating sparks of energy and joy on the dance floor.

As you settle onto a stool by the bar, your now sister-in-law taps you on the shoulder, holding a drink filled with clear liquid in her hand. Leaning down to ensure you hear her, she whispers, "you guys look great together."

Despite mustering a smile, a sour feeling comes over you. On one hand, it feels amazing that you and Lance have managed to convince everyone of your relationship, but you know it's not real. Your feelings for him are genuine, but he remains your colleague and friend — nothing more.

"I don't know how much it means coming from me, but he seems like a really good guy." You look up to meet her gaze, she tugs her dress closer to her legs to sit on the stool opposite you. "Can you tell my mom that?" She smiles, remaining cautious but you understood why. That is her mother-in-law now.

"I don't get the ex thing. The way you look at Lance, I don't know, you never looked at Thomas that way." She leans in to add convincingly, she was only dating your brother during the brief time you were seeing your ex, but the fact that she sees right through you makes you wonder just how obvious your attraction really is. To Lance especially.

You smile appreciatively nevertheless, at least someone's in your corner.

When you feel a presence come up behind you, you don't hold back a grimace when Thomas steps forward. You mouth 'save yourself' to your sister-in-law who chuckles, giving you a small hug before being whisked away by your brother, her husband, as he invites her to dance.

He takes her spot on the stool and you move to get up but he grabs your arm, "five minutes." You shrug his grip off of you and sit back down, pushing your stool a little back to maintain some distance. "Two."

"You're not serious about the F1 bloke, are ya?" You sigh, wiping the tip of your nose with your thumb to catch the tiny drop of sweat.

"I don't have to explain my life choices to you but just so you know, yes, I am serious about him." You state as if it should be clear, although maybe it was. In another reality far from this one, nobody would bring their partner to a family wedding unless they were truly committed to them.

"I know he's not your boyfriend, Y/N," Tom stares at you intently as he finishes his sentence, clearly anticipating any change in your demeanor or facial expression, causing you to suppress any visible reaction. But you're quite certain that your internal organs momentarily ceased functioning.

"What're you on about?" You question him.

He scoffs, as if you're just prolonging the inevitable truth. "At best, he's a friend. There's no way that dude's your boyfriend." You want to ask him how he caught on but didn't know how to word it so you chuckle instead, albeit a little nervously.

"You're funny." You say bitterly but Tom shrugs, a smirk on his lips, oozing confidence and surety in what he was saying as if he was aware this wasn't alcohol talking but the facts he'd built up since this weekend began.

"Come on. The air mattress in your bedroom, obviously has been slept in. On top of that, I haven't even seen you kiss the guy, just hugs and hand holding. People manage that with their mates."

You're beginning to get angry and you wonder if the two minutes you'd allowed him had grown to pass, "perving on my bedroom are we?" You suggest disgustingly through gritted teeth and Tom rolls his eyes, knowing you were stalling to gather a possible answer.

"I went to the bathroom, door was wide open. It's not like you tried to hide it." The smugness in his voice made you want to slap him but out of the corner of your eye, you saw your sister-in-law tap Lance's arm and point in your direction. You hid the relief washing over you, and swallowed your words.

"I couldn't give a shit about how you feel about my relationship." The anxiousness settling into the pit of your stomach caused you to feel a little nauseous.

"Mm-hmm, 'relationship'," he says, using air quotes with his fingers as he takes his hand off of his glass, followed by a playful wink directed at you. The feeling of nausea grows stronger, but you distract yourself when Lance places his hand on the small of your back.

Without wasting another moment, Tom leaves when Lance glares at him, leaving the two of you alone. He immediately redirects his attention towards you, his gaze fixed, wordlessly asking if you're okay.

"He knows," your voice shakes as you meet his eyes.

"Who?" He asks.

"Tom. He - figured it out. He knows we're not dating, he knows about the extra mattress in my room, he knows." You find yourself repeating, your mind in a frenzy as you whisper whatever you recall of the situation to the man currently hovering over you.

Your eyes glance behind Lance's body as you watch your ex go over to Kevin, interesting him in a conversation that you have no doubt is about his recent discovery.

"He's going to tell my brother, he's going to tell everyone-" You cut yourself off when Lance pushes his hand into your back, forcing you to meet his eyes again. Though this is not the time for it, the contact causes somersaults to erupt in your body.

"No he's not. He's not going to do anything, don't let him fuck with you." He reassures you, advising you to try and forget the encounter but it's all that is playing on your mind. You can't have him unwrap this entire weekend like a present waiting to be opened and showcased to everyone.

"Come on, it's the slow dance." You huff, finding right now a pretty stupid time to join your date for a dance. He sensed your hesitation, pulling you up by the hand much like he did a while ago.

"Isn't now a good as time as ever to convince everyone we are in love?"

You think about his question for a while then realise he had a point, you nod and let him guide you back to the dance floor, in a crowd full of many other couples doing the same thing.

You interlock your fingers around his neck, his hands finding their rightful places on either sides of your waist. You both begin to sway and you can see Tom standing just off of the floor, his eyes obviously trained on you and the F1 driver.

Lance looks down into your eyes to break your concentration, there was a subtle softness in them that you knew you could only claim as your own.

"What if he does tell everyone?" You whisper to him but he only smiles, contrasting you massively. One thing that differed between you was the lack of anxiousness in him and the load of it inside of you.

"A mattress can easily be explained, and he has nothing to prove that we're not dating." You swallow, remembering the other point Tom made in the short conversation.

"H-he said we haven't-" Lance's eyebrows furrow as your speech falters so you decide to rephrase it. "We only hug and stuff, to him couples do more than that."

"And to you?" You meet his lingering gaze, "what?"

His eyes fall to overlook your expression before catching your stare again, "what do you think couples do?" You subtly shrug when Lance tugs you closer to him. "I-I don't know. Traditional couple stuff." You curve around the obvious answer and he chuckles, nodding his head.

His eyes flicker to your lips and you could swear your heart skipped a beat, or maybe multiple beats. Your heart was fluttering vigorously within your chest, its rhythmic pounding so intense that you wondered if Lance could hear it if he focused hard enough.

You gazed at him, momentarily lost in admiration without any specific thoughts occupying your mind.

He observed you attentively, analysing you with deep contemplation. There was obviously something playing about his mind, but you couldn't decipher it, he'd never been one to read easily. He tucked in his bottom lip.

No words were exchanged but your chest was conveying more than enough, just as Lance's was. His emotions seemed to be a mix of nervousness, anxiety, and perhaps even panic. He couldn't understand why, this would only be a justifiable favour.

His gaze again shifted from your eyes to your lips, and the agitation in your body reached such a level that you felt your ribs may explode from the sheer feeling pent up inside of you. Raw emotions surged, unearthing feelings that perhaps you hadn't been sure about before. They were springing to life, blooming ever so confidently.

But so were you, every new sensation coursing through your veins made you feel alive, but frightened you too. It was powerful, overwhelming and a sensation that had never quite been matched with previous boyfriends.

You noticed the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. In response, you leaned in closer. You didn't want him to retreat from this proximity, despite the anxiousness gripping you.

You couldn't help but wonder the potential consequences that could arise. Any platonic friendship you'd built up until this point would be shattered. Lance sensed your distraction and squeezed your waist in response, "how's the knee doing?"

You sigh out an unsteady breath, "g-good." Your gaze was darting between his eyes, barely formulating a clear response to his question, obviously lacking confidence. You knew the song was only a couple of moments away from ending, though there was no countdown, everything felt perfect enough for it to happen now.

Your face began to warm up, "I-I'm not the only one who's having all these feelings, am I?" You asked ambiguously, half-fearing his response.

Lance knew exactly what you meant, it seemed a little inconclusive to make assumptions on such an open-ended question but the breathless look on your face and the glint in your eyes both served as hints.

"No," the ends of his lips curve slightly into a smile, only to serve as assurance that he wasn't answering for convenience but because he was telling the truth and he too was sick of having to hide it.

Lance moved maybe a centimetre or an inch closer to you, his proximity was so close that the tip of his nose brushed against yours, causing your eyelids to flutter. His hands slid slowly from either sides of your waist to your back, interlinking.

Your lips parted instinctively, your mind becoming clouded, and any trace of logic vanishing from your thoughts.

His bottom lip skimmed over your top one and you could've sworn your body had turned into jelly, you could feel him smile faintly before his mouth closed around yours. For a moment, neither you or Lance breathed.

Perhaps to give the other ample time to process this was really happening. A blush crept on to your cheeks, his lips began to move, enticing you to join him in an illusive dance.

You released a content sigh through your nose which only offered Lance more assurance, continuing to kiss you with eagerness you didn't know he had. You toyed with a few strands on the back of his head, gently tugging at his neck to urge him closer.

He hummed in response, happily complying with your unspoken command. You pulled away to catch your breath, he allowed you to step impossibly closer to him as people began curving you to go back to their seats as the next song began.

You took the minute you had to appreciate just how good he looked, his eyes light, his lips pink, and his fair skin glowing even under the DJ's overhead spotlights.

You met his lips again, remaining there for a few seconds before he moved against them, kissing you a few times. "God, you're amazing." He whispered when you detached for the final time, blushing but making no effort to conceal it anymore.

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Two more parts to go!

Taglist: @fantasticbouquetwitchsthings @topguncultleader @spicyclover @amirahart @softiecaro @alilstressyandlotdepressy @eugene-emt-roe @e-lisa-bettan @strolleclercs @jjsprobablywrong @carmelita-holland @flowerchild-96 @rd14 @honethatty12 @gaslysainz @pierre-gasssllyy @lestappenloverr @secretlyangrymagazine @chiliwhore @mentallyunstablebish @mcmuppet @xscorpioxmoon @ferrariloverr @rivivie @starkeyellow @vanillascreams @tororossoseb-blog @hiphopdancer101universe @hc-dutch @love4lando @chonkybonky @angstyeighteen @natasharomanoffisbaebby @little-angel-07 @voidskywxlker @vildetry-06 @sharllec @aundercover @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @spicyclover @mloyer @alesainz @hockey-racing-fubol @cinnamonroll2003 @honeyric3 @nikki01234 @purplephantomwolf @mindflay3r @ttzjune @xitsyaiizax @dylylylylyly @junhuilvrrr @f1-hyperfixation

[outrunningthedark]

Thinking about your post about people being mad the date wasn't tommy noticing something and standing aside

Cause ultimately I think that's a lot of the issue here, bc being were initially super excited for bi buck bc they figured Tommy was a plot device and would lead to buck realising he has feelings for eddie or tommy noticing their feelings for each other or eddie getting jealous and realising he's gay or or or

The longer he stuck around and the more it was made clear that they were developing this relationship and it wasn't leading every week to the buddie fanfic trope they wanted to see the anger grew and then it was here's all the reason we hate him (which like you don't have to like a ship but when they hate tommy for supposedly being bitchy but love bitchy eddie it's pretty clear what the issue is)

💯💯💯 When BuckTommy was pure speculation (even though a few of us felt there was enough evidence to suggest SOMETHING was happening)? "Tommy is straight, last I checked!" "He's here for the CRUISE DISASTER. Stop." and my personal fave...being labeled fetishizers. By a straight woman. When Bi Buck was confirmed, even though it WAS thanks to Tommy? "OMGGG! We're one step closer to Buddie! Tommy is here to help Buck accept his attraction to men and then Buck can think about his feelings for Eddie!" [cue the absolutely batshit "theories" about Buddie hooking up before SOMEONE ELSE'S WEDDING DAY like we're watching Friends - which, in case people forgot, was about a group of white heteros!] But then...Tommy didn't leave when they thought he would. Enter the (as my mutuals like to call them) bad faith arguments. Tommy is all the sudden The Worst for cutting the dinner date short, despite the fact that his decision to leave was an OBVIOUS catalyst for Buck to come out to his sister and best friend. (Not agreeing with a writing choice does not mean it does not make sense in context! FYI!) He's all the sudden The Worst for not following the bachelor party theme, despite the fact that Tommy did not have to show up at all when he knew he could be/would be called away to help at any moment (which, hey, he was!) (This one was WILD) He's all the sudden The Worst for LETTING BUCK KISS HIM AT THE HOSPITAL. AS IF BUCK WASN'T AWARE THAT TOMMY'S SOOT-COVERED FACE WOULD PROBABLY TRANSFER ONTO HIS??? AS IF BUCK DIDN'T *WANT* TOMMY AT THE MADNEY WEDDING NO MATTER WHAT??? FOR THE PURPOSE OF COMING OUT??? And then, ofc, the one moment that exposed the fuck out of everybody. Tommy, a gay man, is all the sudden The Worst for making a daddy kink joke! Towards his boyfriend! (Who was most definitely not offended!) SCANDALOUS! This fandom's found itself involved in a lot of pointless, petty disagreements, but this "ship war" gotta be the dumbest yet. 📢ANY MAN WHO WAS GONNA DATE BUCK IN SEASON 7 OR LATER CAN'T COME BETWEEN AN OTP ON SCREEN WHEN THE ACTORS BEHIND THE OTP AREN'T PUSHING FOR IT TO BE CANON YET. THANK YOU! (They say it's because Tommy is a Bad Guy, but we all know it'd take no more than two episodes for this fandom to tear down the hypothetical "next guy" who isn't Eddie just because he isn't Eddie.)

[fishrights69]

My Top 5 GARBAGE fish that suck

Here we go again. After receiving a very high ammount of notes!! (61 UwU) on the last fish list, here's another top 5 no one asked for. I've tried to use the reasoning of ''all fish are good'' but let's be honest, we'd be better off without these. 5. Monkfish🙏

So these things are weird as hell. Their ugliness alone landed them on this list. Not only are they ugly as shit, but they're also mean motherfuckers that eat basically anything. They like to cover themselves in mud and just chill there until something crosses their path which imo is fucking lazy. Some people do eat them as a delicacy apparently(ew?). Props to them for getting over the looks. Ugly/10 5/10 for laziness 4.Hairy Frog Fish💇‍♀️

If you wonder wtf are you looking at, this fish is the living embodiment of that feeling you get when you find hair in your food. This girlie loves to swallow as it's mouth can open to make space for fish almost twice her size so don't go sitting too close 💦 Still, it doesn't take away from the fact that she looks like a mistake. 4/10 appearance 8/10 for the deep throating skills 3. Goblin Shark 👺

First of all, these sharks look like if someone designed a fish based on a child's drawing of a shark. Instead of going the terrifying route and choosing one of these pictures, I opted for a derpy yet still creepy photo. Besides being quite good at ambushing prey, these dudes still tend to eat man made garbage which further argues their position on ''the garbage fish top5™''. They also are basically living fossils since they're old af and most of their body is atrophied. 3/10 appearance 6/10 for still living so long despite everything.

2.Bony-Eared Assfish🍑

This fish is for all ass obsessed fuckers. Grilling this baby and enjoying it counts as eating ass. Some cool facts about him: -The bony-eared assfish has the smallest brain-to-body weight ratio out of all vertebrates. -Assfish are soft and flabby with a light skeleton (so like a real ass) As for personality, they are not what I'd call assholes. They are quite sluggish as they prefer to sort of flap around with short bursts of energy instead of swim. They don't do much besides that which makes them a very underwhelming fish despite the sexy name :( Apparently they were given this name to make up for how utterly boring they are. 2/10 appearance 1/10 Interest in them or what they are good for (spoiler, nothing)

If you're a fish enthusiast, you probably know what's coming at nr.1 🥁 🥁 1. Ocean Sunfish☀️

There are far, faar too many reasons for this fish to be on the first spot. Not only are they the dumbest fish in the whole world, but they also are not good swimmers AT ALL (wtf is with these poorly designed fish who cannot swim??). Scientists are still perplexed at how this fish continues to stay alive. If you want more shitty facts about them, here's a link to a very famous post trashing these bitches. BUT, I have my very own reason to hate the sunfish. One cursed morning, I decided to go get educated about animals and visit Naturalis, a museum in Leiden, The Netherlands. I was having a blast looking at all the beautiful animals showcased, along with the cool facts and atmosphere. I excitedly get to the aquatic creatures floor and mesmerised, I try to take in all the beauty. At the long corridor nearing the exit, I look around admiring the fish that were displayed. Thinking I had seen it all, I move further when I turn a corner and out of nowhere.. . . . . . . . BAM

this GIANT motherfucker, hidden in a corner makes it's presence known. I'm not kidding when I say this thing is huge. Here's a picture of the replica from another angle for size reference. As you can guess, I was legit extremely spooked and actually screamed. :( 0/10 appearence 0/10 fuck this thing. useless and it gave me a heart attack

BONUS: I'm sorry but I think I've tortured myself and you enough, so to make up for it, here's a cute fishy instead: (take him)

Alright thanks for reading and follow for more fish content. Suggest me some more top5's I could do, be it fish related, or whatever your mind decides to curse me with. Still need to cleanse yours eyes? My top 5 coolest fish

[theautotrophic]

my girl Violette!!!!

Dumping all the lore I have about my stupid little girlfailure bisexual radiostatic fankid <<<3333

So basically, she's a loser, a fossil, and I don't mean to sound hostile - but the demon is a coward >>:D

She's an absolute LOSER GIRLFAILURE just like her dad <3

Idk know how to explain it honestly, like, just think of the biggest, most dumbest of ass, girl loser you can think of and that's her

Just an absolutely deranged loser idiot

She runs a company with her brother Veer (maybe streaming or smth 🤔🤔 I haven't figured it out yet). She's the "creative mind" (kills people) and he's the brains behind the operation

A company name I thought of might be Viedio Enterprises?

For her powers they're a bit of a mixture between Vox and Alastor

She can travel via shadows the same as Alastor

She can use other people's shadows to puppeteer them

She's got a connection to the Internet and television the same as Vox because of her head and antenna

Can play things through her radio and on her screen and manipulate devices around her

Connection to radiowaves

She can probably traverse the Internet

Can corrupt technology

Basically, she would be an extremely powerful overlord if she wasn't such an idiot

I think I'm gonna have like two different timelines for this AU since I couldn't decide if I wanted them to be adults or kids when the hotel opens and Alastor returns after 7 years

Cause I think it would be really funny if Vox accidentally created her (and her brother Veer who I'll probably post for later once I actually make a good drawing of him) while Alastor was away for seven years and Alastor comes back and learns he has kids and is like "how the fuck-"

But also their adult personalties are so fun and I'd love to think about how they would react to Alastor going missing for 7 years (cause if they were adults he def would have raised them with Vox) and I just think the potential in that AU is more fun, while them being kids I can just think of a lot of art and funny moments to draw

So, in the case where they're younger Vox would accidentally create them a few months after Alastor has left when he's super desperate to find him. He would be like doing some type of demonic magic summoning circle type shit to try and summon Alastor or find out where he is but he has actually no idea what he's doing. So he's got like this whole setup sort of thing with like his blood and Alastor's hair in this wholeass satanic circle. And so he does the spell. And instead of summoning Alastor it like combines their DNA and BOOM, congrats ur a single father now. And now Vox just has two kids to raise. (Yes I thought of all this just because mpr3g makes me uncomfy (but also this scenario is both very funny and kind of sad to me and I will be drawing it at some point. probably)).

OR

if they were older, like in their twenties by the time Alastor comes back idk Vox would probably still accidentally create them somehow I'd have to think about it

So yeah ill probably just do both versions and do what I want

Anyways! Send me asks about her if you'd like I'd love to talk about her :]