#replace that motherfucker with. and then she would not be there to bother the kids any more.

[ocpdzim]

what you’ve got to understand about working conditions in education (and also other care-oriented careers) is that if they’re shit, two things are true at once:

that does not ever excuse being cruel to a kid, no matter what

until those conditions are fixed, education will continue to suck absolute shit

this is because when working conditions for teachers are really bad, many of the good teachers who recognize when they are reaching a point where they can no longer be the sort of teacher the kids deserve due to burnout WILL quit. they will do the responsible thing and go away for their own sake and the sake of the kids. and you end up stuck w a combination of new teachers who are trying their best but won’t last long, burnt out teachers who are trying their best but have nothing left to give and therefore aren’t very effective at actually teaching, and cockroach shitheads who take out their misery on the kids.

we have all had terrible experiences with bad teachers, many of them flat out traumatic, but for fuck’s sake please try to look at the systemic underpinnings of the problem for one minute. spitefully declaring that teachers don’t deserve good working conditions or even the right to complain about bad working conditions because ms. whoever in 5th grade was a bitch is only going to create more of her. if you want good teachers then we need an education system they can survive in

[littleleaves13]

‼️ Supernatural season 5 spoilers ‼️

Hey what the fuck is up with Supernatural's portrayal of other world religions and pagan gods. because I'm not a fan? It's honestly just disrespectful and so ridiculously not researched. Full disclaimer that I'm coming at this from a Hindu standpoint.

In 5x19 "Hammer of the Gods" there's a convention of a bunch of other gods in the world, and I can't speak for all of them but Kali and Ganesha are so awfully portrayed and what is up with them all being cannibals lmao. The Hindu gods are canonically vegetarian and Kali Ma is the destroyer of bad, evil things and protects people (especially women) who can't stand up for themselves. Kali Ma is an avatar of Parvati, the Queen Mother, and she's absolutely badass and takes no one's bullshit. She's angry and vengeful but she only dishes it out to people who deserve it, and definitely not innocents caught in the crossfire. She's a goddess. She knows right from wrong. Even Shiva, known as "The Destroyer," is the destroyer of evil things, but Western media just depicts him as an evil god. Ganesha is the most peaceful god that we all pray to as the Remover of Obstacles and he's just a sweet kid whose head got cut off and replaced with an elephant head and he eats sweets and plays harmless little pranks on all the other gods. And the fact that he's a full fucking elephant in this episode is ridiculous like...do your fucking research? The blood spell stuff is ridiculous too like, if Kali Ma wanted you dead you'd be dead.

This is just infuriating and it's a theme that's come up a lot before in Supernatural. Dean is always like "oh I'm gonna gank you bloodthirsty motherfuckers" as if they're not gods? I know the show is years old but it's annoying and misinformed. The fact that they include pagan gods and gods of other world religions (Hindu mythology, Norse mythology, etc) is so cool and there is genuinely so much potential for it. In the episode at one point Kali Ma said that there are billions of people who aren't Christian and that other religions and other gods have existed for thousands of years before Christianity, and that if there's anyone who gets to destroy the world it would be them and she's so right for that? There was so much potential for exploring what the Apocalypse means for people who don't believe in Christianity and having a whole convention of powerful gods of other cultures could've genuinely been an arsenal against Lucifer if they'd bothered to do their research. Instead they're all "primitive" and "chimps" (Dean's words) and eat people.

Honestly, the angels are just as awful and they have even less regard for human life so if Sam and Dean want to kill a bunch of bloodthirsty murderers it should be them.

I love Supernatural and it has it's silly goofy moments of awful writing but this is just one thing that pisses me off to no end.

[exhelluvafan]

“Well, FUCK you, Stolas! You spring this ‘feelings’ bullshit onto me, are you kidding me right now?!” Like a bolt of lightning, the imp shot into the air, shattering the doors as it closed in on Stolas with a menacing growl. “Can I get a goddamn minute to think after everything you put me through, you pompous, rich, ASSHOLE?!” Stolas froze as Blitzø’s words reverberated in the empty room, his body stiffening. A year’s worth of pent-up rage erupted from Blitzø like molten magma as he paced frantically. "Treat me like one of your little BUTLER imps, you royals think you can manipulate us whenever you want. You toy with our emotions because you believe yourselves superior. And I'm sorry Your Highness, but I won't drop everything for you. That sexy cowboy was one thing, but I have a life beyond fucking you, EVERY MONTH. Do you think I owe you a rescue? Fuck no. This appointment is important. My father Cash was a royal fuck-up who only cared about himself. And I swore to be different. I adopted Loona five years ago, and she's my pride and joy. I've made mistakes, this is Hell after all, but I'm not your toy, I'm not your 'hero' and I'm certainly not going to fit into this sick fantasy you made, only a coward would hide away like that! Why dump this on me NOW?! Well, I'm not letting you, bitch...L̴̨̨̩̃͗̔͌͑E̴̢͍͈̩̳̋̓͒͘T̵͉͖͛'̴̡͚̞̐̃̆͝͝Ș̴̔̓͊͛̿ ̵̢̛̹͝G̵͕̲̋̓̈́̑O̴̧̺̫̞͗͑!̷͉̥͆" Blitzø landed behind Stolas with a thunderous roar, towering over him. His teeth were bared, wings flared, and red and black electricity crackled between his knuckles, a potent manifestation of his hatred for the pathetic demon. He waited for whatever came next. “Blitzø…” Stolas glanced over his shoulder, and Blitzø was met with an intensity of rage. But as quickly as it flared, it was gone, replaced by... wait, what? This motherfucker was crying.  "I thought so very highly of you," Stolas' voice cracked as tears welled up in his many eyes. His lip trembled. "I never imagined you could think so low of me... after everything I've done, everything I've given up for you." Despite the red-hot hostility coursing his veins, Blitzø grimaced as guilt began to bubble up in his gut. For a second too long, he thought about what he’d just said. “Stolas, I—“ He stopped himself, God, what was he on about?! The bird really did groom him. "So," he said, “You seriously think I'd ever think highly of you? After everything you put me through? What you forced me to do for the past year?!" Stolas remained motionless as a statue in the spacious room, bathed in the indigo light streaming through the stained-glass windows. “WELL?!” The imp’s voice cleaved the tense silence, sharp as a knife cutting through the fog. “Blitzø…” Stolas glanced at him, still with his “broken face”. The boss imp glowered at him. “Keep your shitty book, I’m done. Goodbye, Stolas.” Nonchalantly, Blitzø approached a nearby window. With a sharp blow from his gun, he shattered the glass. As he tumbled out, he flipped both middle fingers at Stolas, who glared back with eyes burning like hot coals. Ignoring his opponent's fury, Blitzø caught himself mid-air before gracefully descending to his van below. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Blitzø sat in stunned silence as he felt an immediate lightness in his chest. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. He was free, the loss of the grimoire didn’t matter—this was what he truly needed. And God, was this the second happiest day of his life… the first, well, that’s another story.

Just a snippet from my Full Moon rewrite ^^! Feel free to comment, review, or ask questions! And yes, if you got the hint, Blitz knows some magic...

This rewrite is truly beautiful, this should've happened on the Full Moon episode, not the victim blaming and consequent gaslighting fest we got, both in Full Moon and Apology Tour.

Reading this was truly cathartic, thank you.

[rowretro]

𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪

WARNINGS: Blood, violence, mentions of sexual things, like wyr games if ykwim

✧tag list✧: @strawbsj @nikipedia07 @enhypensccstarlight @nikisdubblchococake

✧CHAPTER 1✧

Y/n watched as the kids hugged their parents before running to the school bus, to go to their school. Sighing, she went downstairs, smiling as she heard her little pet bunny hop to the door part of the cage, wanting to be set free. "Suzi~" she cooed, opening the cage as she stroked the bunny's head, softly booping it's pink nose.

The girl lifted the bunny by it's ears and left it in the bigger cage that was in her backyard, not wanting to take the risk of letting the bunny in her house, knowing full well the tiny menace will chew threw the wires and get electrocuted. She glanced at the small greenhouse she kept just for her butterflies. Her late mother was a lepidopterist, since her murder, y/n was given this extremely expensive build in the back of her apartment.

Locking all the doors, she hopped onto her motorbike and rode to school. Upon arriving at the school, she didn't even bother entering the building, because there he was, getting into yet another fight. Riki harshly punched male in the same spot multiple times, the male striking back, aiming for Riki's face, but he ducked. She wore her earphones, and purposefully pushed past him. Riki glared at the girl, already pissed, Sungchan used this chance to finally punch Riki.

He pulled on Riki's hair and kneed him in his stomach before running off. "MOTHERFUCKER GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE YOU PUSSY!" Riki yelled, running after him. God how bad he wanted to kill y/n. The girl smirked to herself as she slumped in her seat, in the back of the classroom, doodling on her notebook. She was only a few minutes late, her head down on the table, one earphone in, as she tried to nap.

It wasn't that easy to nap when she could hear Yeonjun and Taehyun, just a few rows in front of her, mention her name a few time, disgust evident on her face as she overheard them "Would you rather... be locked in an empty classroom with Mrs Lee, or... have sex with y/n?" Yeonjun asked with a grin as Taehyun snickerred. "Please, she's hot but she's our teacher, plus Y/n is kinda hot... Yeah Ima go with y/n" the male said.

The girl threw a paper ball in their direction, then pretended to be asleep. "Who tf was that?" Yeonjun asked, sounding like he meant business. "It was me." Y/n simply said, glaring holes into his head "w-well uh... Don't do it again!" he said sheepishly, trying to put on a tough act, before turning away and continuing his little immature game. The girl was suddenly yanked off of her seat, a painful tug at her hair.

"You fucking bitch look what you did!" Riki yelled, pointing t the small blood stain on his white shirt "I wouldn't have cared if it was his blood, BUT IT'S MINE, you think I'll let you get away with this?!" Riki asked glaring at her, as she looked back at him, unamused. Riki was never the type to hit women, but with y/n it's like something possesses him, and all he wants is to beat her until she begs for mercy. God he hated that dirty smirk on her lips.

"babyboy I'll count to three, and if you don't let go of my hair, then your pretty face will be met with a chair." she dared as Riki didn't let go "3...2... 2 and a half...1 bitch ur dead." She simply said, pulling onto the chair and swinging it at him, to his luck, a teacher stepped in, grabbing the chair from her. "NISHIMURA RIKI! KIM Y/N! TO THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE RIGHT NOW!" the women yelled as they both walked there.

The 2 were now stuck in a room, each writting the word "sorry" until 5 pages were full, beside them was Y/n's older brother, Sunoo who had to come off of work early to see his sister's hair a mess, and blood stains on his dear friend Riki. "How many times do I have to tell you? STOP GETTING ME CALLED INTO THIS OFFICE. Y/n, I replaced dad's contact details with mine for your wellbeing, NOT FOR YOU TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT AND HAVE ME COME IN EVERYTIME YOU TO SQUABBLE OVER SOMETHING STUPID!" He yelled as the girl groaned.

Yep, this was what everyday in a high school these two went to would be like. Sunoo sighed, using his hands to detangle the girl's hair, as he brushed it out for her, glaring at Riki "And you, Didn't I tell you not to motorbike race with those boys?! so fucking egoistic, do you need to prove every 5 seconds that you're better than them?! I told you so many times, don't mess with them they come from shitty backgrounds and the police won't dare to lock them away, you have sisters right? can't you behave for once?!" Sunoo lectured as he rolled his eyes.

"Ah- you're pulling too hard!" y/n whined as Sunoo flicked her forehead "I won't let you do my nails if you keep getting into trouble like this!" Sunoo added before aggressively, yet gently brushing her hair out. Riki just slept, his head on the blank papers as y/n pulled out her back up phone to scroll through.

✧𝕆𝕙 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪✧

[5eraphim]

swinging out the gate with pure filth but i recently stumbled upon a scout voice line that made me cream my pants (tumblr doesn't allow links as anon so i'm putting extra parentheses to make sure it doesn't appear as one (https://wiki.teamfortress.com/w/images/4/48/Scout_domination20.wav))

anyways it got me heavy thinking about dom scout because i really truly think this boy is a sadistic motherfucker. huge ego and need to be the best, especially growing up the youngest sibling? having someone stupidly fucked out for him blows his mind.

and i KNOW for a FACT he has a daddy kink, too, and wants a real title to hear the power he has in the moment (plus there's another scout voice line that says "come to daddy" so it's essentially confirmed because i said so).

he's still a little bit of a teenage horndog about it, rolling his eyes back and getting a little nervous when you actually do submit, because he was prepared for a fight.

i would almost say he prefers it, wanting the struggle and the power that comes with quelling the flame in you but never fully, trying to push buttons to get you to give him a shove or a nasty remark so he has an excuse to pounce on you like a predator.

"yeah? you like that? gettin' fucked on daddy's dick?" almost really talking to himself when he drills into you as fast as he physically can, positioned in missionary because he wants to see that pretty face (and tits).

he wants to see overstimulation paint your features, you know that. he also wants to see that feisty side of you just so he can tame it. you push his abdomen the best you can, hands really just shoving his shirt that he didn't bother to take off. it's not working, and all he can do is laugh at your pathetic attempt.

you yank the dog tags that dangle in front of your face, sort of wet because of the sweat he's pouring, not due of the physicality but rather that he's so worked up and thrilled that he's heating up. the chain wrings around the back of his neck a little, not necessarily doing the damage you hoped for. in fact, you can see a switch flip and his eyes darken. uh oh.

his hands slam around your neck, having previously been attached to your waist, and squeeze so hard your vision goes fuzzy at the edges and all the blood rushes from your head. "you wanna choke me? how's it feel ta be fuckin' choked, huh? stupid bitch." he's degrading, harsh because he knows he can be. your eyes well u with tears, threatening to spill, and he grins like a wolf. he loves it.

"oh, what, you gonna cry? you gonna cry now?" he spits at you. that's all it takes before the waterworks start, cooling your warm cheeks and letting him know he's won this round.

there's nothing that stops you from cumming on his cock, completely overwhelmed by feeling and so far gone that it doesn't even matter. scout's overjoyed that he's got a pretty girl so fucking stupid for him that she can't even control her body anymore. he gets so high off the feeling that he can't help but bark out every filthy thought and word he has, a reminder that he is conscious enough to talk and you're so braindead you can't form a word.

"aww" he wipes your tears with the pad of his thumb, "don' cry kid, i'm not even bein' that cruel!" he taps his thumb against your lips, scowling when you turn your head to avoid his digit. he grabs your chin to force your eyes on his. "open up and suck my fuckin' thumb or ill replace it with my cock and fuck your face."

im making my mark as 👽 emoji because i will 100% be back to write more

HELL O?? HELLO 👽!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH RIGHT NOW!!! MAKING OUT WITH THE SIDE OF YOUR NECK RIGHT NOW AS WE SPEAK

thank you so much for sending me this, a bit blown awayy right now, i must say. top-tier scout characterization, on GOD. He is MEAN. he is literally a one man bully squad- of course he's gonna overdo it act like a total maniac getting nasty with his obsession.

i love this because i love writing Scout as on the more dominant side, but in a almost playfully sadistic kind of way.

[tojiscumdumpster]

CHAPTER ELEVEN- TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

 Life has really been fucking with me these last six weeks. Work’s hell. The apartment we live in went up by four hundred dollars. And to make matters worse, Megumi and I have been rockier than ever. 

 That’s the thing that’s bothering me the most.

 It’s over simple shit, too. 

 I try my best to be a laid back parent and only go full on dad mode when needed, but I think the kid has taken advantage of that. All I ask is three things from Megumi:

 Don’t get into fights, and if you do, don’t get caught. 

 School night curfew is eight. Weekends are eleven.

 And lastly, tell me your whereabouts.

 But what does he do instead? Miss curfew. Leave the house without telling me where he’s going, and now he’s on a two week-suspension from school since he got into a fight. 

 Grant it the fight was justify because some kids were fucking with him and talking shit about his lack of English, but shit, Megumi. 

 At least he won. 

 One side of me was saying that’s my boy, and the other side had to ground him. 

 Let’s just say he wasn’t too happy with me after that. 

 I’m surprised he actually listened to me, though. But with him listening, I’ve been getting the silent treatment, no eating meals together, and been avoided like I’m the plague. 

 Parenting is not a walk in the park, I know that. Especially when you’re a single parent. When times like this hit, I think of my late wife more than ever. 

 With her death anniversary right around the corner, I can’t help but miss her and wish she was by my side. 

 I can’t do this shit alone. I was not raised in a loving environment, and considering the fact that my old man was an abusive drunk that used me as his punching bag, I damn sure don’t know what the fuck it feels like to have a father. 

 A mom? Don’t know either. Old man wasn’t faithful and was sleeping around with different women, so my mom could be dead or alive. Who knows? 

 My late wife knew all of this, not the severity, but she knew I had a shitty family. Yet she managed to see something good in a motherfucker like me, to the point we had a kid together.

 A kid that fucking hates me. And I’m the only one to blame. 

 God, maybe I should listen to Kong for once. I’m forty-two. Shit, maybe it is time to settle down and look for a housewife. Someone who’s willing to help raise a fifteen-year-old boy. 

 No, what the fuck am I saying? Since when do I listen to that fucker?

 Never. I trust him, though. Hell, do I really have a choice since he helped me take care of Megumi when I was going through my episodes in the early years of my wife’s death? 

 But my kid is my responsibility. Getting a woman involved isn’t going to help my relationship with Megumi. That’s some shit I need to fix myself. 

 Kong and I have one unorthodox ass relationship, but he’s the only bastard I actually consider a friend, and I know he means well. 

 He is Megumi’s godfather after all. Besides, the last thing I want to do is to ever make Megumi feel like I’m trying to replace his mom. Far from it. 

 Maybe loneliness is just catching up to my old ass.m, and the only woman I think of breaking me from my no relationship rule is Y/N. 

 Y/N fucking L /N. 

 That woman drives me insane in more ways than one. 

 After our first date over a month ago, we’ve been talking nonstop. Texting. Calling. Casual dates every now and there when time allows us. If I’m being real, Y/N is the only reason why I haven’t ripped my fucking hair out. 

 People would usually turn to alcohol to depend on the burning sensation it gives you to get drunk when feeling stressed. But me? Y/N is who I get drunk off of. Her energy is fucking addicting, and the reassurance she gives me… who know I needed so much of it. 

Like any other man, I don’t turn to anyone to help with my problems. I’m a prideful motherfucker who has the ego the size of a galaxy. However, I don’t have to be the way around Y/N. I sound sappy as shit, I know. 

 Guess that’s what happens when you become vulnerable. 

 The only reason why I haven’t had sex with her yet.

 I know myself. When I was younger, I only saw sex as a way to make extra cash when I was struggling after I got disowned by the Zen’in. The older I got, sex became more meaningless to me. I can be balls deep in pussy, no matter how good it is, and have no type of feelings attached. Me making a woman come or them making me come doesn’t mean I’ll start buying them roses and shit. 

 It wouldn’t be the same with Y/N. 

 Not saying I’m on the verge of falling in love with her, let alone loving her. But seeing how much we talk, how jealous I fucking get, especially after figuring out she works at the same school as her ex-fiancé, I don’t want any other fucker to even breathe the same air as her.

 Not even myself, but I’ll still be selfish enough to do it.

 That’s the thing about Y/N. I feel myself growing more selfish when it comes to her. I want her time and energy to only be for me. She’s mine without her knowing and I’m planning on keeping it that way. I can admit that’s probably a dick move, but I can’t find myself falling in love again. 

At least, I’m forcing myself not to.

 Hearing her moan my name. Seeing her face when she comes. Knowing what it feels to have that sweet, tight, warm fucking pussy clench around my fingers. I’ll become a starved and possessive man the moment she’s like that around my dick. 

 I’ll catch feelings.

 I’ll want her above me, beneath me, all over me twenty-four-seven. I’m not an easy lover. I can admit to that.

 But that won’t stop me from…

 No, I won’t say that.

 It’s strong. Whatever emotion I feel about Y/N, and I can’t help but think it has something to do with her being so damn familiar. The more I talk to her, the more I know who she is. Maybe in another lifetime I’ve loved her before. 

 Even saying that in my head sounds crazy as shit. The dreams about her aren't helping, either.

 “Get a hold of yourself, Fushiguro,” I mutter to myself. I look at the time to see it’s eleven thirty. “She should be on her free hour right now.” 

 Maybe a phone call wouldn’t hurt.

 “I’m busy,” I grunt.

 I couldn’t even call Y/N before Kong called me to fucking be clingy. He claims he only calls me to check on the kid, but Megumi has his own phone. 

 “Mad because I’m not your girlfriend? Sorry, I had you first, Fushiguro.” I hear him puffing out smoke from his cigarette. “Be grateful you have a fucking friend to check on you, you fucking jackass.”

 I chuckle, sarcastically saying, “Awe, I consider myself very lucky.”

 “Fuck you.”

 “Sorry, not interested,” I replied. And this is what I mean by unorthodox friendship. “Assuming you got some information for me?” After that Zen’in fuck purchased the club ownership last month, I had Kong do some digging for me.

 All the bullshit he was spewing about Naobito forcing everyone in that family who doesn’t have a kid, to have one, and taking interest in finding Megumi, I couldn’t take shit like that lightly.

 Not when my kid is potentially involved.

 Knowing how those Zen’ins’ get down, they always find a way to get what they want. Even if it results in blood.

 “I found some files about that Naoya shitface you told me about… Looks like he’s the real deal,” he says.

 “Meaning?”

 “Meaning he is your cousin. Looks like your old man’s brother had some unwanted kids of his own.”

 “Having kids in the family just to leave them dry is a fucking ritual in that shitty ass family.” I get up from bed and go to the kitchen to grab a ginger ale. “What else you find out?”

 “Zen'in owns half of the real estate in Tokyo,” he tells me, clicking his tongue. “Those bastards keep growing and growing by the minute. So if what this Naoya is saying is true, I can only imagine Naobito is doing this to have the city fear the name Zen’in, even after he’s six feet under.”

 I scoff. “For an ego stroker? So what the fuck does this have to do with my kid?”

 “How the hell am I supposed to know?”

  Over my dead fucking body if they think they could come even twenty feet near Megumi. I have no problem going back to that violent lifestyle that I’m trying to escape when it comes to protecting my kid.

 Actually, I’m hoping that they do because I’ve been itching for a stress relief and permanently getting rid of those Zen’in fucks just might be the way to do it.

 Maybe I should pay them a visit on my trip to Japan in a few months.

 I run my hand through my hair and sigh. “Alright. Keep me posted.” An incoming call comes through and I see Y/N’s name flashing my screen. “Gotta go.”

 “Your girlfriend’s callin-” I disconnected our line before he finished his bullshit to answer Y/N.

 “I’m so close to fucking pulling these braids out and choking my boss with them.” Ha, that’s a funny way to say hello.

 “I’m trying to wrap my head around why hearing you threaten to kill someone is turning me on?” I tease.

 She lets out a soft breath. “I’m sorry, big guy. Work is being a pain in my ass right now.”

 “I see that. You cursed twice. That’s something expected from me.”

 “Well, it’s kind of inevitable when you’re a high school teacher,” she argues. “And actually, no. I expect four curse words in under a minute from you. So I think my two words will be alright.”

 I smile while walking back to my room and close the door behind me. “Talk to me, sweets. What’s going on?”

 “Other than finding out that my name was unknowingly submitted to take part in the state’s teachers summit, nothing really.”

“Is it that bad?” 

 “No. It’s actually a good opportunity to voice your concerns as a teacher to the school board, but quite frankly, I’m tired of going. Only one teacher is selected every year to represent each school in the county and it’s always me.”

 “And what is this summit shit? Why do they need teacher representatives?” I hear her smile through the phone when she explains the summit, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of me cursing already. “Probably this isn’t what you want to hear, but I can see why you’re always chosen. You speak your mind well, and I can see the passion you have when it comes to your students.”

 “Well, yeah, but every teacher should be that way,” she counters. “And the summit this year is four hours away from us, so they made it a weekend convention. A weekend, Toji?” 

 I arch my brow. “And who submitted your name?” Her silence tells me my answer. “You sure this fucker isn’t trying to win you back? Abusing his power as your boss to get you to himself for the weekend seems like a man move I probably would’ve done, too.”

 “You would?” she incredulously asks.

 “When it comes to you? Absolutely. Zero questions asked.” I can almost guarantee the silence from her again is because she’s blushing, something I find fucking adorable about her. “You there, Miss L/N?”

 “Toji, I’m at work,” she answers.

 “Admitting that your mind is in the gutter?”

 “I-uh, no. Just reminding you to get your head out of it.”

 I tip my head back and laugh. “Cute. So when’s the summit?”

 “In three months.”

 “And you can’t pull out?”

 “Unfortunately, no. Unless I can prove that it’s due to a medical or family emergency, I’m out of luck.” No doubt in my mind that her ex pulled this shit intentionally. I mean, I get it. If I lost someone like Y/N as my fiancée, I would be going through hell and back until she was mine again. 

 But too bad for this fucker that isn’t the case anymore, and I don’t tread lightly when it comes to people fucking with what’s mine.

 Mine, that’s exactly what Y/N is.

 “I’m way too hungry for this crap,” she says, pulling me from my possessive musings. 

 “And you didn’t eat because?”

 “Someone kept me up last night on the phone, so I overslept and couldn’t get a decent breakfast before work this morning.” 

 I chuckle, remembering our two a.m. conversations that turned into her masturbating while I was talking her through it. “I’m sure that person is sorry.”

 “Doubt it.”

  I look at the time again to see it’s noon. “What time is your free hour over?” 

 “One. Why?”

 “Grab lunch with me.”

 She playfully hums to consider my last minute invitation. “I guess I can squeeze you in.”

 “Squeeze me in?” I mock her response while laughing. “Appreciate it, Miss L/N.”

 “I’m sure you can find a way to show me your appreciation.”

 I smirk. “Forgot you were at work?”

 “Whatever, Mr. Fushiguro. Text me the address and I’ll meet you there.”

 “Alright, alright. I’ll see you,” is the last thing I say before disconnecting the call.

 Smiling to myself like a fucking lovesick idiot knowing that I’m about to see Y/N has me surprised myself. Like I said earlier, this woman drives me insane.

 And I think I’ll grow to not mind it.

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no discussion question this chapter. but would love to hear your thoughts ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

[bcntbouquet]

Derward 100% did not understand a lick of Korean. Of course, he assumed she would be talking trash about him no matter which language she chose to speak in, so he didn’t bother to ask what was said. Certainly he’d heard worse, anyway.

●●●●

Celebrities like Rockelle could have anyone, was Derward’s logic, so the fact she didn’t have even a peasant must’ve meant she had a pretty good reason for being alone. Frankly, he could relate. He was terribly lonely for friendship, yet he constantly chose to be alone.

“—Awww, she turned you down, too?” He threw an ‘up yours’ fist in Onyx’s general direction. By the time they reached the car with Brian in it, Derward was on his best behaviour.

“Thank you, miss. You, too, sir. You’re all just…” Honey dripping out of his mouth. “so kind.” Insert phony sniffle. The rest of the trip he was quiet, forcing a smile whenever Brian or Onyx looked at him through the rearview.

Once Brian was gone, Derward resumed his scowl and slouched shoulders with hands in pockets—Only coming out long enough to accept the Dough-Re-Mi.

He practically tore the paper big ones as he jerked them into his possession. Just as quickly, he went into innocent mode. “What floor’s OshKosh on again?” Canted head like a forgetful pup. He was going to take her dig of ‘kid’ for everything it was worth. Might even end up actually buying a few things from the child’s department. Who knows. He was perhaps at the slimmest he’d ever been, after all, and even though he was 5’10’ and no weakling, he was certain he could find something intended for children that would fit his grown-ass figure. If it had to be a crop top, then so be it. He’d worn frilled blouses just to get out of his own sweat before. The man was over labels.

“I’ve been mugged—more than once—though never by the same assailant.” Uncomfortable pause, suggesting he’d given a reason to never bother him again. The aromas wafting from the Chinese place caused his stomach to hiss. “I’ve temporarily blinded a man in both eyes to get ten bucks back, so you best believe I’d kill a motherfucker dead for forty times that…”

You might be thinking temporarily suggests mercy on Jenning’s part but that wasn’t the case… Derward had very deliberately pulled his punches, knowing that if the man was permanently blinded, strangers would only take mercy on him and give him money for nothing. He wasn’t going to roll over and hand him the win. It might even make him think mugging Derward had been worth it, justified.

Without another word, Derward strolled to the escalator and unto the upper echs (his personal shortening for echelons) of the mall. He didn’t care how long he kept Onyx waiting, if the bitch waited at all; he was going to hit every single solitary store here. Every one. Even the candle emporium… women's health… the vitashop... Dude had never even seen the inside of a mall and his curiously did not fucking discriminate.

While browsing around different places, Derward found he was getting a lot of looks. Mostly from teen girls, but there’d been a few mom ‘n’ dad aged folks looking, too, if he was being honest about it. No shame in that. He knew he wasn’t a minor. Even if… well, if they didn’t. Okay. So shame on them. The first few times the ogling happened, he assumed it was because something about him just shouted homeless bro, but the more it happened the more he noticed red faces and whispers with bit lips. People seemed to think he was cute! One chick even tried flirting for a bit. Needless to say, she walked away disappointed. He wasn’t accepting tail at this time in his life.

By the end of his trip, he’d accrued several bags, spending approximately half of the four hundred spread out over things like clothing, jewelry, skin care, shoes, and a pair of headphones to replace his current ones. Although tempted several times throughout the hours, he decided against spending any money on item he deemed frivolous; collectibles, entertainment, paraphernalia. Meals were covered at the hotel, as was TV and movies. He intended to make the other 200 last at least until someone gave him more. He wasn’t expecting more, but, still… it might happen. He might even get a job with Rockelle... or something. Anything could happen. Anything already did.

●●●●

Back down in the food court, Derward sat at a quiet table and texted Onyx that he was done with shopping and that he was now seeking supper; he would even wait for her to join him, on the off chance she wanted to. Truthfully, he was nervous that he’d be hit on again if he tried to have dinner alone. On that note, he actually hoped Onyx would come. Human sexuality was something that scared him and he didn't care to have to face any degree of it.

Onyx was busy on the phone with Brian, just telling him she was okay and that now she has to babysit some kid. She did it in Korean of course, not really caring if Deward understood. She could translate if its that big of a deal. Rockelle on the other hand waves at Deward and Onyx as they leave her presence, letting out a sigh of relief. She wonders if people wondering in here would become a normal occurrence and that thought alone annoyed her to all hell.

“Be safe you guys!” She called before they disappeared and left the building. As soon as they left and the door shut behind them, she got into her employees ass about this. Now she wasnt loud or unreasonable, in fact she was calm and collected. It seemed to scare her team even more since when shes upset, she sics Onyx on them but they REALLY fucked up if she came and spoke to them.

As Deward started to ask questions, she holds up a finger as she finishes up her conversation with Brian before hanging up. After sending a text or two, she looks up, pushing open the door for him. “Dont make me laugh, Rockelle doesnt have anyone. Too nervous to date anyone honestly. Brian is my husband. He only cares because he doesnt want me to be mean to those who dont deserve it.” Would it be a stretch to say Deward reminded her of him in a weird way?

They both had naive tendencies and often trusted so easily. It got Brian in his issue with Alymer that she caused. Even if its been over 20 years ago, she still couldnt fully stomach that she left him. She never forgave herself despite everything they been through, thank god he loved her so much to look over it. “Dont get any ideas about her being single, she doesnt date kids.” Was that a dig?

When they both got to Onyx’s car, a very nice vehicle, a man was in the passenger seat. She greets him in Korean and kisses his cheek before sitting down. “So heres the plan, we are going to go by the mall to pick you up a few things and Brian will get the hotel room while we are shopping. We are gonna grab some food for you and after that, you are free to do whatever in your room. Rockelle should contact you later today.” She continues before putting on her seatbelt and telling Brian to go.

After awhile, they made it to the mall and Onyx gets out the car, waiting for Deward to follow. Once he did, she hands him some cash, roughly 400 dollars. “Here. Buy any clothes you want.” She said in her deadpanned tone, walking into the mall. “And put it away, Im not giving you more if you get mugged.”

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Logical Epilogue

Epilogue to The Logical Progression

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader Rating: Mature Warnings: Cursing; sexual innuendo; Nathan being Nathan Notes: Honestly was kinda stunned that so many people asked for an epilogue 🥺 Sorry it took so long!  Just as a note, the painter mentioned in this piece is entirely fictional Summary: At first, it was exciting.

Berlin worked.

Berlin worked for a while.

You settled into your new position, your new office. Your new boss, Mark’s replacement, was out in California, and the time difference was a little bit of a bitch, but you made it work.

You made it work for a while.

You saw Nathan most weekends, at first. Most, because he got consumed with his work so often, and so did you, sometimes. Truth be told, you couldn’t always take the time out of your schedule to take the two hour flight from Berlin to Oslo, and then the hour long helicopter ride from the airport to the drop zone near the estate, and then the forty five minute hike from the drop zone to Nathan’s house.

At first, you did.

At first, it was exciting. At first you were optimistic, and in love, and brimming with hope because this was a compromise—and sure, it wasn’t something that the two of you had come up with together; it had been your idea, but he had said yes. Yes to your idea, yes to Berlin, yes to your new title – in his company. You had carved out your own place in his company, gotten to where you were by your own merits. You were happy. He was happy.

It worked at first.

After the first few months, though, the bloom was off the rose.

It started with the travel. 

Four hours was a lot one way – and that was four hours if everything was running on time and the weather permitted. It was eight hours all told, round trip. Eight hours every weekend, back and forth, was a bit much. So after a few months, every weekend became every other weekend – and it was still a lot. Of course, any time you mentioned that to Nathan, he was unapologetic at best.

“If you’d just moved in with me like I’d planned, you wouldn’t be tired.”

The first couple of times, you’d laughed. The fifteenth time, it wasn’t so funny anymore. You finally stopped mentioning it to him.

Then, it was the work.

It took you four hours to get to his house. Four. Three flying and an hour of a hike – sometimes through the snow. Silly you, you’d thought the man might stop for more than a kiss and a, “Hey, honey,” when you got there.

At first, the two of you were fucking like rabbits. And then your visits became more infrequent, and even when you were there, Nathan was sometimes too locked in to whatever it was that he was doing to give you the time of day, so much so that you felt like his damn Jackson Pollack: you were around to be looked at occasionally, contemplated, and then left to your own devices.

You’d made the mistake of mentioning that to him, too.

“I’d have more time for you if you were here, honey.”

That had started as a tease, too, but you knew Nathan. Every little joke and jab had a thin layer of saccharine shielding the spike he really wanted to stick you with.

And it stuck.

It didn’t help that your work had felt stagnant since you’d moved. Blue Book was still flourishing; your performance reviews were all positive; the Berlin office was thriving, but… But ever since you moved, you just felt so disconnected.

-- 

“You’re not coming this weekend?”

Nathan’s voice didn’t manage to lose any of its petulance despite how tinny it sounded through your headphones.

“I can’t, we’re going through tissue sessions for the pitch on Monday,” You told him.

“I haven’t seen you in, like, a month.”

“Oh, you noticed that?” There was a pause on Nathan’s end before he dryly asked, “You driving at something, sweetheart?” “Look Nate, I’ve got work to do,” You retorted, “I’ll call you later and try to make it out next weekend, alright?” Nathan let out a scoffed laugh and hung up. No ‘goodbye’, no ‘sure’, no ‘noon will be fine’. Looking back, that should’ve been a warning. With Nathan, there wouldn’t be a goodbye. There would be a drift. The time between your trips to see him became longer and longer, and your countenance in one another’s company became more and more icy, more static. The trips stopped, the calls stopped, and then a box with the things that you left at Nathan’s place showed up at your door. No note, no letter from him, nothing. His Maya console was right at the bottom. He’d finally ripped it out of the fuckin’ wall. Mommy and Daddy had broken up and you got full custody. -- 

The decision to leave Blue Book wasn’t a result of the break up. You’d had other job offers before - Nathan knew that-- No. No, you told yourself to take Nathan out of the equation as you handwrote your resignation letter. Handwrote, because you were still under NDA, and you didn’t want the drafts of this to be caught in one of the regular data audits that Blue Book did. 

You weren’t leaving to join Google, Apple, or IBM, or any of the other companies that had offered you positions with them over the years.  One of the reasons that you had moved up in Blue Book as quickly as you had was your ability to look at a product release and translate the jargon-heavy language into something the average person could understand. You’d done it for a few friends in the tech industry on the side now and again, when they were getting started with their own companies. And as much as you liked Blue Book, you liked the idea of being your own boss more. -- Your last night at Blue Book was no less than a fiasco - you’d been there a long time, so they made an effort, a fuss. They threw a party at a swanky art gallery in Berlin. People had come up to you all evening, asked you what your plans were, if you were excited, what you would miss. You’d told them - you were going to become a freelance writer, focus on technical writing. You already had a number of jobs lined up. You were incredibly excited, but a little nervous. Blue Book had been one big cyber safety net. You’d be alone.

“You hear Bateman was here?” It was a whisper behind you - from one member of the sales team to another, but loud enough for you to hear, loud enough to distract you from the conversation that you’d been in the middle of. There was no way. You hadn’t heard from the man in months - four of them, if you were going to be precise. There was no way he would turn up at your going away party - to do what? Make a fucking splash? All eyes on him? You wondered exactly how much shit you’d get for leaving your own party. You heard the ping of Blue Book’s messaging system on your phone and you pulled it out of your pocket, going cold when you saw the message. N. Bateman: Ferrar room.

No. No, you wouldn’t let him do this. This motherfucker wouldn’t get the chance to just swan back in and sweep you back off of your fucking feet after he was such a shit. -- “So you haven’t plugged Maya in yet.” “...Well between my phone, laptop and the NDA, I’ve kinda already got enough of your spyware in my apartment.”

Nathan chuckled, still wandering around the little back room of the gallery. You’d had to ask an attendant where the Ferrar room even was - but it was full of some of the most vibrant work you’d ever seen. So maybe, for that reason, you’d briefly forgiven Nathan for not even turning to look at you since you’d walked in. And yeah, it had stung, but considering everything that had happened and-- and not happened -- considering the things that the two of you had never said and the fights that you’d never had, and the compromises that he’d never made and every single compromise that you had made, it was no wonder that the man didn’t bother to turn and look at you when there was canvas after canvas after canvas of life in vivid color all around him. “Armel Ferrar,” Nathan said, “French painter, born in Peillon in 1868. Moved to Paris in 1885. Heavily influenced by Seurat and Cézanne -- more Cézanne than Seurat. You can see it in the color use, but… the way he plays with light, that’s all Seurat.” You weren’t looking at the painting that Nathan was looking at. Hell, you weren’t even looking at the paintings. You were just looking at him - at the back of his fucking head. At the back of his fucking head, and the slight tapering that you could see of his beard; at the way his shoulders sloped, and where his hands were tucked into his pockets. Your eyes drifted up his back again, over his neck, his head. The painting he was looking at, whatever painting it was, had bursts of yellow - wheat, maybe, or stars, or the sun, it was difficult for you to tell at that distance. From where you stood, it was as though the man was haloed and framed. Bright and shining and on display, this man that liked to keep to himself and spent his days underground in his office. “Stayed in Paris, too--” He was still talking, of course he was still talking, “Most of his life, or what was left of it. Never married, had one kid outta wedlock… Died in 1891, same year as Seurat. His daughter, Marie-Thérèse, married a military man that moved her to Berlin after the second World War. She brought his paintings with her, that’s how they wound up here.” 

Nathan went quiet for a few moments before, “What do you think?” “...I’m wondering why you had me come back here when you very well could’ve given that TED talk to an empty room. Or better yet to any one of the people out there that are utterly fascinated with you. Either would suit, considering how much you love your own voice.” You had already turned yourself to look at a painting, made yourself distracted by the time you answered, because you’d known that that would get a look from him. You were right, too; you saw him turn to look at you out of your periphery. “Can we skip this part?” That bored tone was back. You dug your nails into the palms of your hands, letting your eyes hone in on the vivid splashes of red on the painting in front of you - petunias. “Which part would that be?” You asked. “The part where you tell me what I did wrong and I pretend that you’re right so that I can say sorry and we can get back to what we were doing.”

You laughed. You actually laughed. Not a fake one, not a haughty one, but a real peal of laughter left you in shock. “Wow,” You sighed once it had passed, “I forgot what a dick you are, you know that? I actually kinda managed to forget.” “Look--” “No,” You turned to face him, holding a hand up to stop whatever he was about to say, “If you came to fake some sincere bullshit, or to tell me that everything would’ve worked if we had done things your way--” “They would’ve--” “Shut the fuck up, Bateman,” You snapped, “You don’t know that, alright? You don’t. I don’t care if you have it in your head that it would’ve all been perfect because you said so.” 

“You really think my way would’ve been worse?” “Well, we’ll never know,” You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest. Nathan was quiet for a single, blessed moment. Then-- “Why are you leaving Blue Book?” “I don’t wanna sound egotistical here, but I kinda refuse to believe that you didn’t read my resignation letter.” “I did.” “Then you know the answer.” “Were those the only reasons?” You looked over his face for a few moments. “... It wasn’t you,” You shook your head, “I don’t know if you wanted it to be, or didn’t, but it wasn’t you.” “Why the fuck would I want it to be?” “Because you think the universe revolves around your beard.” 

He seemed to fight a smile for a moment, and your stomach twisted. You’d seen that look - the way he had to work to pull down the corners of his mouth - in the first video he’d ever sent you, yelling at Maya to remove you as an admin. Maya, which was still sitting in a box in your apartment, because you couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of the damn console. You didn’t want to plug it in, but you couldn’t just fucking throw it out. “...So, this new job,” He approached you slowly, and you were careful to hold your ground - not just because backing or turning away felt like weakness, but because stepping backward would mean knocking into the work of a French artist whose life sounded pretty fucking tragic. “Yes?” “You staying in Berlin?” You were quiet for a few moments before you shook your head. “I don’t know. I can do it from anywhere, so I haven’t really decided what my next move is going to be.” “Anywhere?” Nathan repeated. “Whatever you’re thinking, un-think it.” “Can’t unscramble an egg, honey.” “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “Bateman, I’m serious. You think I’m just gonna crawl back to you?” “Who the fuck is doing the crawling? I’m here!” He snapped. “Oh, look. Nathan did one thing,” You cooed mockingly, “Nathan put on something other than sweatpants and left his estate--” “It’s a four hour trip--” “Oh, you cannot fucking tell me about the travel, Bateman, don’t you dare. I did that for months and you acted like it was nothing, you acted like I was nothing!” 

And then Nathan stopped. Nathan stopped and lowered his chin to his chest for a moment. “You’re not,” He spoke softly - so softly you almost didn’t hear, “You’re not-- You know that. That's your insecurities talking--” “Knowing and feeling are two different things. I’m not a console, I don’t run an OS, I can’t just go in and fix the buggy code that tells me differently,” You had to work to keep your voice steady and get the words out, “What you just did once to get here? I did that for months, Bateman. And that’s after I pulled my whole life up and moved to a new country. That trip, two days a week, every week, and half the time I was there, you acted like I wasn’t. I may as well have not been, so I stopped going.”  “You could’ve talked to me.” “...You know what, I’m not even going near that one, because I really don’t want to yell in here,” You managed through gritted teeth, eyes diverted to another painting. Nathan lifted his head then, looking you over before he stepped forward, muttering, “Stop that.” “What?” “That.” He reached out, taking hold of your hands from where they were crossed under your arms. He ‘tsk’ed softly as he uncrossed your arms and unfolded your hands, running his thumbs over the small half-moon dents that your nails had left in your palms. “... Alright, maybe gatecrashing wasn’t my best idea,” He glanced toward the door to the room before his eyes scanned your face. “I don’t think it even breaks your top five.” “Would you care to list that top five now?” “I would not, at the risk of puffing up your beard.” You heard him chuckle, felt his thumbs continue to smooth over your palms. “...You remember that first Rise of AI, when I told you why I’d pulled you up on stage to give that presentation?” He asked. You frowned, turning to look at him again. He was watching you closely over the top of his glasses, eyes knowing and dark. “You wanted to see what I'd do if you threw me in the deep end.” He nodded. “That was Blue Book, something we both knew. This…” He wrapped his hands around your, gave them a gentle squeeze, “This is new for the both of us. We jumped into the deep end and uh…Starting in the kiddy pool might’ve been better.”  “Did Nathan Bateman just admit defeat?” “No. No,” His gaze went stern, then, “Because kiddy pool or not, you’re still in the fuckin’ water.” You looked down at where his hands were holding yours still. “I want to try again,” Nathan crowded closer to you, “And I know-- I know that I am an asshole and that I fucked up, and you know what, I’m probably going to fuck up again,” He raised one hand to cup your chin, raising your head to meet his eyes, “But I wanna give it another shot. I just… I just need to know if that’s even an option here.” When the box of your things had arrived at your place, you’d told yourself that it wasn’t. You’d told yourself that Nathan was an asshole, and a shitstain, and a dickwad, and a douchecanoe, and a host of other derogatory names that you’d dreamt up in your most frustrated moments. Because, yeah, he could be those things. But that didn’t change the fact that you still had feelings for him. It didn’t change the fact that you’d made mistakes in that relationship, too. “So?” He prompted you as you looked at one another, “How do you think we’d do in the kiddy pool?” You gave him a small smile and murmured, “Swimmingly.” The force of Nathan’s kiss nearly knocked you off of your feet - your head would’ve hit a Ferrar if his hand hadn’t come up to cup the back and cushion it. (The gallery owner saw the two of you and was horrified.) (But Nathan bought that painting and like five others, so they got over it.)

Tag list: @spider-starry​ ; @mylittlelonelyappreciation​ ; @grogu-pascal​ ; @blueeyesatnight​ ; @kid-from-new-zealand​ ; @revolution-starter​ ; @kindablackenedsuperhero

[wonhaebunny]

HEY BUNNY ILY <3 also 📁

HELLO ILY PICHU 

okay so,,, hm

when katsuki is out on patrol one day in second year, he comes across a kid who’s like,,, a really big fan of him. she can’t be much older than four or five, but she’s bouncing around grinning wildly as her mother sheepishly explains that she’s loved him since the sports festival. katsuki is confused but oddly touched that this kid watched that entire mess and still liked him, so when she offers him one of her sparkly butterfly stickers, he doesn’t have the heart to turn her down outright. he tries to explain that he has nowhere to put it, and the kid happily tells him that he can put it on his “grenades” (she means his gauntlets). he’s reluctant, knowing that it’s gonna be a weird look and the bakusquad won’t let him live it down anytime soon, but she’s looking up at him with hopeful eyes and brandishing her goddamn sticker like it’s gold. so he says yes. 

she squeals, before carefully sticking her glittery butterfly smack dab in the middle of one of the green squares of his right gauntlet. it’ll probably get burned off or scratched off in the wear and tear of his fights, he reasons. it’s just a sticker. 

he’s sorely mistaken. he has no idea what the fuck this sticker glue is made of, but it won’t. come. off. it’s been two months. two months of training and patrols, and that motherfucking sparkly sticker is still pristine and untouched on his gauntlet. the bakusquad miraculously haven’t caught on yet, except for eijirou (who gives him a very bemused and somewhat fond look but doesn’t mention it).

that is, until a while later when another kid approaches him on the street while he’s patrolling near a school. this kid is a little older, but he’s just as excited as the first girl as he rambles on about one of katsuki’s recent fights and how cool he is. he then very shyly procures a sticker of a cartoon explosion, all colourful and cute, and tells katsuki how his teacher had given it to him but he’d saved it as it had instantly reminded him of katsuki. he mentions having seen the butterfly sticker on katsuki’s gauntlet, and hesitantly asks if katsuki would accept this one, too. he’s offering the sticker like it’s his life’s work (and honestly, it basically is. stickers are sacred to kids, especially ones from teachers. even katsuki knows that much), so what is he gonna do, say no? he sighs quietly and offers his gauntlet-clad arm, letting the boy shakily press his explosion sticker down on a square adjacent to the butterfly one. he thanks katsuki profusely, and katsuki just ruffles the boy’s hair roughly and stomps off, cheeks slightly red.

the third time a kid approaches him with a sticker, katsuki just thrusts his arm out, not bothering to question it. the kid is shaking, and it would be hypocritical of him to say no at this point. they press their sticker to his gauntlet and toddle away happily. this then happens a fourth time. and a fifth.

around the eighth sticker is when the bakusquad (along with many others) finally notice what’s going on. all the squares on katsuki’s gauntlet are being occupied by various cartoon kid’s stickers, like bingo boxes. eventually he runs out of squares on his right hand and the next stickers are added to his left. he’s resigned to his fate, but the bakusquad like to make a big deal about it everytime a kid approaches him to add to the sticker collection. eventually all the squares get filled and he has to start doubling up. multiple kids approach him at a time, like little cults of sticker-brandishing demons. the stickers overlap, and spread out over the metal outer ridges, too.

by the time he graduates, his gauntlets are a myriad of coloured stickers. some of them are three-dimensional, some of them scented. they’re a little chipped and worn, but the collection keeps growing until there’s almost no green visible. when he’s asked by the support team if he wants his gauntlets replaced, he says no. and in the confines of his bedroom, he’ll sit down with his sticker-adorned gauntlets. he’ll trace his eyes over each one, remember the face of the kid who had pressed it there with tiny, reverent fingers, and he’ll smile.

[kob131]

Roast: Avalon Le Fay and Morgan’s whole set up. Like, civilization wise. Put as much plot related stuff in as you like at least.

Well not enough is actually known about the plot so far so...can't do that.

...But that society. Oh boy.

Arturia's fatal flaw in ruling was that she threw away her humanity and operated off pure logic over illogical beings. Arturia Alter's fatal flaw in her supposed rule would be that she thinks that oppression is somehow compatible with the idea of looking out for your people. Now imagine that someone had BOTH of these flaws, removed any form of morality that either version of Arturia had, made her even more smug than Alter and made both versions look like Parent of The Decade.

That is Lostbelt Morgan in a nutshell. Her society is fucking joke, with the constant threat of her people dying off from a goddamn EXISTENCE TAX that SHE HERSELF is enforcing. Her people also tear each other part for the chance to eat HUMAN FLESH which says a lot about her ability to instill some kind of morality into her people...or complete lack of it. The people fucking hate her guts and only deal with her because she's strong and can stop her own corrupted people from killing them...survival of the fittest, great way of ruling there. Except oopise, she can't even be bothered to do THAT as the Calamities fuck her kingdom up the ass and all she cares about is some prophecy telling her what any dumbass with a third of a brain could tell: you're getting disposed.

But even THIS pales in comparison to her as a person. As a servant, her first action is to declare you both married so she can pressure you into being a slave, orders you to get rid of your Berserkers because apparently her flat ass can replace motherfucking HERACLES, demands complete and total obedience from YOU her LEADER, blames Arturia for daring to be born even as she says 'well I GUESS it's not her fault', STILL has the same flaws as her original self even though she's had 2000 years to get over them and is just an all around self cunt. Oh, and she somehow-SOMEHOW screwed up her own kid even worse than MORDRED. This bitch looked at rock bottom 'parenting' and declared she will REDEFINE it.

Fuck off and I can't wait to see you get country-cucked by Arturia Caster.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

The Aftermath

Part two of the Subverted Expectations AU (aka the shy!remy + confident!logan au) (ty @notveryglittery for being able to think of names when I can’t) Part one here

Summary: Never trust a disaster queer to make good choices- aka, Remy runs from the cutie Content: Lots of swearing, reference to a bad relationship, Remy being a disaster queer for a lot of reasons, nb!Remy, agender!Logan, and polygender!Virgil Pairings: Sibling sleepxiety, future romantic losleep (these pairings apply for the whole au) Notes: This one-shot may not be super exciting a read, since I’m focusing more on plot/world building in this one, but I have a lot of one-shots lined up to follow, so... yeah. that’s a thing.

~~

    Remy wasn’t sure how many more words were spoken between vim and Logan before vy ran, but vy was pretty sure it wasn’t many. As soon as Logan had flashed that fucking smirk and called vim pretty, vy was well aware that if vy didn’t take preventive measures, vy was going to die right there, on some random lawn with party music blaring in the background.

    So, as soon as vy trusted vimself to stand, Remy got up and sprinted away as fast as vir legs would take vim. Vy was pretty sure vy heard Logan call after vim, but vy didn’t care. Vy knew what ne wanted: vir death. Vy refused to let nym take vir life. Remy planned to lose that thing via a caffeine overdose.

    Vy spotted vir house soon enough, Remy more than glad for the fact that the party vy had been pulled to was only a few blocks away from vir house. Normally, vy’d have to convince Roman to drive vim home, and given how utterly hopeless of a romantic Roman was, Remy knew that wouldn’t have worked out in vir favor.

    Key already in hand, Remy had the door open only a few seconds after vy came to it, quickly slamming it shut and throwing the deadbolt once vy was properly inside. Finished, vy turned and pressed vir back against the door, sliding down it and letting out a relieved breath.

    “Alright, motherfucker, I’ve got a bat and I’m not afraid to- Remy?”

    Remy looked up at Virgil, raising an eyebrow at them. She was welding a wooden baseball bat, which he was now lowering upon realizing it was only Remy.

    “I don’t think you’re supposed to announce your approach.” Remy snarked.

    “I figured it was just some drunk kid about to make a mistake.” Virgil responded, letting the top of the bat rest against the carpet as they leaned her weight on it. “Looks like I wasn’t too far off.”

    “Hey! I’m not drunk!” Remy exclaimed, offended as vy glared at Virgil (though the action was pointless given Remy’s sunglasses hid vir annoyed gaze). “I’m stupid, not an idiot.”

    “And yet you’re slamming doors at eleven o’clock at night!” Virgil yelled back, more exasperated than angry. “Why the hell are you doing that?”

    Remy crossed vir arms and slumped further against the door. “I was running away from someone.”

    Virgil’s eyes widened. “Were they trying to hurt you?” He asked, beginning to lift the bat back up.

    “Worse- they were trying to KILL me!”

    Virgil lowered the bat. “Oh. You saw someone cute.”

    “No!” Remy protested, although as soon as vy spoke vy knew vir tone was too adamant for Virgil to believe vim. “I wouldn’t- I don’t run away from cuties, Virge, I run towards them.”

    “Bullshit.” Virgil replied. “I know how much of a disaster queer you are. Though normally you just hide off in some corner or another, not run all the way home.”

    “Yeah, well, if home’s close-”

    “No, that’s not it.” Virgil cut vim off, looking thoughtful. Before they could hazard a guess as to the real answer, however, there was a set of three clean, precise knocks on the front door. Remy froze.

    “Ne followed me home.” Remy said, going pale. “Fuck.”

    Virgil raised an amused eyebrow. “What did you expect to happen? You were probably in the middle of talking to whoever this is and ne got worried when you suddenly sprinted off.”

    “I expected nym to let me flee in embarrassment and be done with it!” Remy exclaimed, ignoring when another set of knocks echoed out. “It would’ve been the polite thing to do, anyways.”

    Virgil’s face broke out into a wide grin. “Well ne’s here now…”

    Remy’s mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t dare.”

    Virgil’s grin only grew as she called out, loud enough for the person outside the door to hear, “Just a moment!”

    “I hate you.” Remy hissed as vy got up and pushed past Virgil, moving to hide in the living room. Vy could’ve tried to remain in front of the door, blocking Virgil, but vy knew the chance that Virgil would just shove vim out of the way and open the door while Remy was still in sight was too high. Virgil just chuckled and pulled open the front door.

    Though Remy didn’t dare risk peeking around the corner of the room to watch the exchange, vy knew that it was Logan Virgil opened the door to before their conversation had even begun.

    “Good evening, Mx…?”

    “Just call me Virgil. Pronouns on the necklace.” Virgil answered, and Remy didn’t need to see him to know they were tapping her pronoun necklace, currently bearing his he-she-they charms. “And you are?”

    “Logan Raven, ne-nym-nir pronouns, non-gendered terms.” Logan introduced nymself politely, which Remy considered very rude and misleading given that Logan was only here to further murder Remy.

    “Well then, Mx. Raven, how can I help you?”

    “I’m looking for someone- I believe vy ran into this house?” Logan said, prompting Remy to shrink further into the living room in a weak attempt to hide vimself even more. “Vy’s a high school senior, goes by Remy?”

    Holy shit the fuck why the hell does ne know my name-

    “You know vir name?” Virgil asked, also sounding surprised- though not nearly as surprised as Remy felt while vy was having a small crisis of identity over why one of the most popular kids would know vir name.

    “Of course. I make it my business to know the name of the prettiest student in school.”

    Remy was going to die. This was illegal, vy was pretty sure, to compliment-kill someone while they weren’t even around. Not to mention the fact that it was a lie- had Logan seen nymself?  Ne already knew the name of the prettiest student in school because ne had been born with it.

    “We’re also in two of the same classes.”

    Now, Remy frowned. Two of the same classes? Vy was fairly sure vy’d remember if Mx. Logan Raven was in vir classes-

    Oh fuck.

    Oh fuck.

    “I like that reason better. Less creepy.” Virgil said, their and Logan’s conversation continuing despite the realizations and breakdowns Remy was having. “And Remy might live here. Can I ask what you want with vim?”

    “Just to make sure vy was safe. Suddenly running away from someone is a bit worrying for the other person, after all.” Logan said, and Remy really hoped vy was imagining the hint of genuine worry in nir tone. “Oh, and to give vim this.”

    Remy heard a slight rustle that must have been Logan pulling something out of nir pocket before silence as ne (presumably) handed whatever it was over to Virgil.

    “Is this… a business card?” Virgil asked, sounding confused.

    “I normally hand them out to bigots who claim it’s too hard to use my pronouns.” Logan explained. “But I wrote my cell phone number on the back of this one- so Remy can call me, whenever vy wants.”

    “I see.” Virgil said. “Would you like to give this to vim personally?”

    “No thank you.” Logan responded, and Remy had never been happier to hear those words. “I know how to respect a boundary when I see one. Besides, I will be seeing vim at school tomorrow either way.”

    Virgil chuckled in a way that Remy knew meant she was laughing at vir expense. “That you will.”

    “It has been a pleasure speaking to you, Virgil. I hope you have a lovely rest of your night.” Logan said respectfully, pausing for a moment before adding, “And you as well, Remy.”

    Though Remy was well aware Logan couldn’t actually see vim- ne had likely just guessed that Remy would be listening into the conversation- vy still froze in place, as if by holding still vy could make vimself disappear. Vy remained stock-still until the sound of receding footsteps was replaced by the door closing and Virgil approaching vim.

    “So,” Virgil said as he came to stand in front of Remy, offering vim a small rectangle that Remy assumed was Logan’s ‘business card’, “that’s the kid who’s trying to kill you? Because ne doesn’t really seem like a killer.”

    Remy snatched the card away from Virgil vy replied, “Then your first impression of nym wasn’t a very good one.”

    Virgil laughed while Remy studied the card. The front of it was simplistic, the cardstock tinted a dark blue while black letters spelled out ‘Logan R.’, nir pronouns written beneath nir name. Flipping it over, Remy found the promised number- written out in a neat, blocky font, with a heart added to the end of it. The heart was small, and drawn with sharper edges than a heart ought to have, but it was still a heart, and it still brought a blush to Remy’s cheeks.

    “I’m going to burn this.” Vy vowed.

    “Why?” Virgil asked, tone a mix of amusement and bewilderment. “Ne’s a pretty kid and you both clearly have an interest in each other. This can’t be the worst thing to happen to you.”

    “It’s not just that.” Remy said, moving past Virgil so that vy could start pacing the room, still fiddling with the business card in hand. “Logan’s one of the most popular kids in the entire school, Virge- I didn’t even know ne knew I existed!”

    “You guys are in classes together.” Virgil pointed out as they moved to sit on the couch, watching Remy pace.

    “I sit in the back! I try to pretend the room’s empty! I don’t notice who else is there!” Remy exclaimed. “And even then, why does Logan care? Why would ne notice me?!”

    “Because you’re pretty?” Virgil answered mockingly, only getting a half-hearted glare from Remy in return before vy returned to vir frantic pacing. Virgil sighed. “Okay, come on. Something about this has you really bothered, and it’s nothing you’ve said so far. What’s so wrong about having a cool cutie like you?”

    Remy glanced at Virgil, briefly stopping vir pace, before starting again, not answering. The silence stretched for a moment before Remy said, abruptly, “Ne’s my soulmate.”

    “...So the cool cutie is also your soulmate, thereby allowing you to love nym without even having to worry about society trying to beat you upside the head because of it.” Virgil said, looking at Remy like vy was acting funny. “I still don’t see the problem.”

    “Well, problem A, I’m a queer disaster who can’t look at nym without blushing, so honestly, rude of the universe to pair us together.” Remy said, letting out a dry laugh at vir own words. When vy glanced at Virgil, however, she only raised an eyebrow, waiting for the part Remy wasn’t saying. Remy sighed, finally stopping in vir pacing to fall onto an armchair. “Problem B, our family’s view of soulmates isn’t exactly the norm. Most people think that if you’re soulmates, you have to be meant for each other. Logan barely knows me and yet ne’s calling me pretty and giving me nir number and I just-”

    “You don’t want nym chasing after nir soulmate and not you?” Virgil finished, and Remy nodded, looking down at the card vy kept folding and unfolding.

    “I don’t want to end up like mom and dad.” Remy admitted quietly.

    “Mom and dad are fucked up.” Virgil replied, getting a laugh from Remy. “You’d have to mess up pretty badly to end up like them. And I don’t think Logan’s as bad as you’re making nym out to be.”

    “Ne’s a murderer, Virge, and I’m nir new victim.” Remy said, waving Logan’s card at Virgil. “Ne’s popular, and confident, and fucking gorgeous as hell, and way too smart to be in my classes, and ne’s focusing all of nir charm on me, just like a murderer-”

    “Sounds like someone’s been obsessing.” Virgil interrupted, smirking when Remy flushed. “I’m just saying.”

    “This is why I hate you.” Remy said, though there was no heat in vir words, only in vir cheeks. Virgil laughed as Remy got up, heading towards vir room. “I’m going to go to bed and pretend neither you nor Logan exist.”

    “You know you have to face nym tomorrow, right?”

    “Considering I’m currently in denial, no.” Remy answered as vy headed down the hall, ignoring the rest of Virgil’s laughter as vy entered vir room and shut the door behind vim. Vy leaned against the door for a moment, letting out a sigh as vy once more examined Logan’s card and nir number and that damned little heart.

    Vy glanced at the trashcan sitting next to vir dresser. Vy really should just throw it away. The only thing the card was doing was making vim feel flustered for no good reason. Pushing vimself off the door, Remy headed over to vir trash can, holding the card over it…

    ...before tossing it onto vir dresser instead. After all, it was always important to have a reference to someone’s pronouns on hand. That was why vy was keeping it. Definitely. No other reason.

    Remy sighed, pushing vir hands up under vir sunglasses and pressing the palms against vir eyes. Instead of the thoughtless darkness vy had been hoping for, however, blocking out all the light simply sharpened the image of a cocky, smirking Logan in vir mind, which was the opposite of what vy was going for. Remy groaned as vy removed vir hands from vir eyes, going back to turn off the lights before half-stumbling to vir bed.

    Vy dropped vir sunglasses unceremoniously on top of vir night table before vy fell on top of vir bed, unconcerned by the fact that vy was sleeping in vir clothes. Remy had more important things to be concerned with, after all- like how vy was going to survive almost an entire school year avoiding Logan. All vy had to do was become invisible. Or drop-out of school. Or punch Logan and make nym hate vim.

    Remy’d figure out something. It couldn’t be that hard to avoid the coolest kid in school who was in some of your classes and knew where you lived, right?

    Drowning in denial, Remy fell asleep.

[immortalcoelacanth]

PTA: Science Team (HLVRAI Fic 1/3)

*pulls dusty story out of garage and drops it into Tumblr*

I have been trying to finish the first chapter for AGES, and I finally got it done! I crave PTA AU content due to the wholesomeness and angst, and I just had to work on one short fic for this fandom. So, welcome to the first chapter out of three!

Word count: 1788

Summary: PTA meetings are a sham and no one hates them more than Gordon, but upon being forced to miss a “mandatory” meeting because of work, Benrey comes up with a brilliant idea to deal with this problem.

Chapter 1: Hostile Arrangements Require Equally Hostile Solutions

“Fuck! Shit! Okay-okay, I’ll just-motherfucker she did what?!”

Cursing was in Gordon’s nature. He often used it as a way to express his angry, dismay, shock, and all sorts of other negative emotions. As such it was not unusual to see pacing about and spitting insults left and right. 

What was unusual, however, was the fact that he was cursing in his own home. He had a strict swearing free zone in effect as a way to stop Joshua from picking up on any foul language, including a swear jar that tended to fill up whenever Bubby visited. It was quite fortunate that Joshua was currently being distracted by Benrey as the pair had been playing video games together for the past hour or so. 

Or they had been until, in a surprising display of stealth, Benrey crept out of the young boy’s room and slowly approached the frustrated Gordon. 

Gordon, who was currently continuing to quietly yell into his cell phone. 

“Are you kidding me?! I was scheduled for a meeting on the weekend! I have work tonight! How in the FUCK did she-”

“psssst, hey, hey feetman. you might wanna chill out there and, uh, stuff. turn down the volume.” Benrey cut in while pointing the tv remote at Gordon and clicking the volume button. “don’t wanna be a bad boy and teach joshie any naughty words.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Gordon sighed, no real anger in his voice before redirecting his attention back to the phone call. “No, not you Natasha, it was just Benrey-”

“tell tasha her cookies are baller.”

“Wha-baller? Who the fuck says baller anymore?!” 

“c’moooooooon man, be a bro.”

“Natasha I am so sorry-tell her that yourself!”

“i can’t feeman, you know i don’t have a phone.”

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STUCK IT IN THE MICROWAVE!”

“i-i was just chagrin’ the battery with those radio waves, man. ads… they never lie.”

Laughter could be heard coming from the phone in response to the conversation going on between the two men. It was enough to snap Gordon out of his somewhat enraged state and refocus on whatever it was that Natasha was telling him. He gestured for Benrey to leave and only succeeded in shooing the ex-guard to the kitchen so he could have some peace. 

Not that the peace lasted long based on the muttered cursing and general sounds of Gordon stomping around. 

About ten minutes later, the frustrated physicist joined him in the kitchen, quickly making himself a cup of coffee and grumbling under his breath. Welp, looked like this was the perfect moment for some interrogation. 

“soooooo, wha was that about?” Benrey asked as he took another bite of the block of cheese he had been digging into. If you asked him, he’d say it tasted pretty gouda.

Damn, he needed to torment Gordon with more puns again. 

“Fucking-” Gordon exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his messy hair, too angry to noticed how Benrey reached out and gently pulled at some of the locks, watching them bounce and resume their previously curly shape. “Linda.”

Well, there went his good mood. 

Benrey’s eyes immediately narrowed, becoming nothing more than glowing slits in his shadowy face, as a disgruntled frown replaced his previous smile. Even the cheese in his hand seemed to start burning, smoke wafting off it as it began to melt in response to the sheer anger that name invoked in him. 

Linda Smith, the scourge of the neighborhood and one of the most uptight, pieces of shit that Benrey had ever encountered. A narcissist with a massive superiority complex, she constantly put down everyone around her who she thought of as being inferior.

Which was just a cover for how much of a racist shitwad she was, plus there were the various comments she made about fags invading the neighborhood.

An obvious insult aimed at not just Gordon and Benrey, but the other “not normal” couples that lived here and there. Poor Joshua had overheard some of the insults on multiple occasions, and she had called the kid a mutt to his face-

“Benrey? You wanna calm down before you poke holes in the ceiling again?”

Fortunately, Gordon’s exasperated voice snapped Benrey out of his enraged state before he accidentally inflicted more damage to the kitchen. A place that had seen many, many small explosions and fires. At this point, he towered over the other man as sharpened, boney spikes poked out of his back and scrapped the ceiling. Plaster fell and dusted the countertop. 

“oops, s-sorry dude.” Benrey awkwardly shrugged, flesh dripping from his arms and face in a rather gruesome display, not that Gordon was bothered by this. He was used to how… horrific his partner could become. 

Especially when someone mentioned Joshua being hurt or insulted in any way. It was actually quite wholesome thinking about how much Benrey cared about the young boy and how much their friendship had bloomed since they first met. 

“I get it.” Gordon sighed. “She’s such a bitch she’d make anyone Hulk out.”

“ten points for the ref there, feetman.”

The physicist somewhat seriously flipped Benrey off, making him laugh, before continuing to rant about the purpose of the now finished phone call. 

“I still can’t believe that stupid school listened to her, and I’m not the only one getting fucked over here!” He spat. “I can’t just drop out-”

It was at this moment that the source of Gordon’s rage dawned on Benrey, and the ex-guard spoke up. “wait, the school thingy?”

“You mean meeting?”

“ya.”

Gordon groaned and hid his face in his hands. “The MEETING! Linda fucked up my schedule! I don’t know what she said to the administrator, but they canceled the weekend meeting I was booked for and rescheduled me for tonight. When I have WORK!”

Benrey winced in sympathy and reached out to pat Gordon’s shoulder with his not cheese coated hand. “damn, th-that’s a real cringe move. can’t you get, uh, joshie’s mom to take care of it? s...shea?”

“I can’t,” Gordon muttered, face muffled by his hands. “Shea’s been on a business trip for some conference and she gets back in five days.”

“oooooh, that’s why you’ve had little josh bro for so long?”

Rather than respond, the physicist just continued to groan and hide his face in his hands as he tried to figure out how to fix the mess he had been caught up in. 

Joshua’s school had a very… specific structure to how it was run. Standard funding and where it would be directed was determined by the staff, however, sometimes the school would receive donations or raise large amounts of money through fairs and other events. 

And it was how this extra funding would be spent that the local community had the chance to weigh in on. Determining if it should be used to get more sports supplies, help fund after school programs, or be used to help make the school more accessible. 

The ramp that had been added two years ago was one such example of the potential good that these extra funds had, however there was one problem with this process. 

All parents were required to attend a meeting and voice their thoughts. This was a rather new development that had been added after a small group of disgruntled parents, ones who had objected to using the extra funds to improve the school and arguing that it should go towards planning fun trips instead, had tried to sue the school board. 

Of course, the case had immediately been thrown out and dismissed, but it had set a dangerous precedent. A precedent that now made it mandatory for all parents to attend one meeting to determine their opinions on where the funding should be used and write it down so they could not claim their voices had not been heard. 

Honestly, it was such a stupid arrangement in Gordon’s opinion. Why not just send out an email? Or forms that kids could take home to their parents. It was so… disruptive and annoying, especially for single parents who had to work long hours. 

Like him. 

His hands tensed, nails nearly dug into his skin before Benrey carefully moved them, holding them. As Gordon looked up, the ex-guard sent him an awkward yet warm smile. An attempt at reassuring him that things would turn out alright. 

“hey... you-you gotta chillax feetman, things’ll be okay-”

“How the hell am I supposed to chillax in this situation?!” Gordon barked as he removed his hands from Benrey’s, shoved himself out of his seat, and began pacing around, furiously staring at the floor. 

“I’ve been fucked over by some racist bitch! Joshua needs someone there and it has to be someone who has some kind of guardianship over him for that stupid funding bullshit!”

As his partner raged on about the unfairness and overall stupidity of the situation, Benrey decided that it was time to think. To think, and plot, and come up with something that would hopefully calm Gordon down while solving the problem that Linda had caused. 

Simply put, Joshua needed someone who had designated guardianship over him to be present during the meeting to act in his best interests. Not surprisingly, Benrey did not have this title due as both he and Gordon had agreed that it would not be the best idea due to both his inhumane nature and the potential destruction he might cause. 

But, that did not mean that only Shea and Gordon were listed as the young boy’s guardians. There was one other who had been granted the title in case of an emergency, although his presence had never been needed up until this point, which was probably why Gordon had forgotten about him in his stressed out state. 

Dr. Coomer, one of Joshua’s “grandpas”. 

And, of course, if one member of the Science Team went somewhere, then the rest had to follow. The Science Team stuck together through thick and thin, no matter the strife or struggle and always left chaos in their wake. 

Hostile arrangements required equally hostile solutions, after all. 

“this is gonna be baller.” Benrey chuckled, his eyes flashing brightly at the brilliance of his plan. Now all he had to do was get Gordon to agree to it.

“pssst, yo, xen to gaydon.”

There was something about the tone that Benrey’s voice took on that snapped Gordon out of his ranting. How calm and collected he sounded, the coherency and confidence in his words. Somewhat concerned, the physicist turned around and saw the scheming look in the ex-guard’s glowing eyes as his fingers drummed on the table. 

“feetman, i got a plan.”

                                             xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I would like to make it clear that no offense is intended towards anyone named Linda, aside from the one racist Linda I know that she was named after who will never, ever read this so my sins will forever remain unknown :>

[freezing-kaiju]

mechaphilosophy in the snack aisle

an AsuRei and KawoShin fic. Fluff and meta stuff.

Summary: While running an errand with Rei, Asuka discovers, to her horror, that she agrees with Rei, Kaworu, and Shinji on something: none of them like mecha anime. Nightmares are discussed, hands are held, Kaworu stands on things he shouldn't.

(au detail: modern au, set during community college, no evangelions, au to be named soon)

September. Saturday afternoon, about three-ish, Asuka didn’t bother to check. One of the handful of friends she’d made at the community college had invited her to a movie night at five. Of course, like everything in life, an escape like this came with a catch. This catch wasn’t the worst, though; if she was picking snacks, then she could pick her favorites. 

And like always, Wonder Girl decided to tag along.

That was both a problem and a benefit. Benefit, because Asuka knew there was gonna be someone there she could talk to, someone to start a petty fight with, someone to sneak out a window with if shit got rough, someone to make sure she didn’t touch any booze, and someone to back her up and deck a motherfucker if this turned out to be some shitty prank.

Problem, because she couldn’t for the life of her think of a topic to argue about while they bought snacks.

“Well?” Ayanami asked, as she plucked a microwave popcorn package off a shelf and swept it into the cart.

“Gimme a sec.” Asuka’s eyes scanned over the rows of chips, as if bags would give her an idea that wouldn’t be insipidly tumblr-ask-game-y. And she already knew Rei didn’t know a thing about discourse, be it Doctor Who or Voltron.

Wait. Voltron.

Asuka snapped her fingers, yanking a bag off the shelf in a dramatic flourish and lobbing it in the cart. Stopping and checking is for wusses. The chips landed with a satisfying crunch.

“So!” She felt Ayanami’s creepy stare boring into her neck like a vampire who missed the whole ‘teeth’ memo, and whirled around to meet her gaze. “I’ve got our topic.” Hands on hips, smirk in place, Asuka gave herself a dramatic pause. “Mecha!”

“Mecha,” Ayanami echoed, stare flickering away from Asuka to a glance at some shelf. A couple years ago, that would’ve pissed her off to no end. Now she knew better; that was Wonder Girl’s sign she was thinking. She’d learned a lot over the past years. Her signs of discomfort, of happiness, what not to touch (neck), what not to call her (doppelgänger, fake, tool most of all). She liked to hope Ayanami put the same effort in for her.

“Mecha!” Asuka repeated, then added, “Because it’s stupid, and it’s lame, and I’ve never liked it.”

Ayanami remained silent. The corner of her mouth twitched down; frustration, or fear, either of which was...weird, especially for her.

After what felt like forever (but was probably just a minute), Asuka broke the silence. “Uh...hey? Earth to Wonder Girl? This is where we argue? Did ya forget our whole thing?”

Ayanami blinked, slow and deliberate. “I...agree.”

Those two words felt like a slap to Asuka’s face. “You...you what?!”

“I agree. I... I don’t like mecha.” Ayanami’s stare snapped back to meet Asuka’s, and for some reason there was fear in the depths of her red irises. “I hate mecha.”

The two of them were, in a word, shook. In all twelve years of knowing each other, this was the first time Rei’d ever agreed with Asuka. Well, they’d agreed on some things, but never their Specific Argument Topics. And Rei felt stronger on it than Asuka! Jokes about Wonder Girl finally growing a spine, about how “the robot got sentience,” about how the irony of it all had slipped through Asuka’s fingers, and she grasped for a single word:

“Why?!”

Ayanami lifted a hand in the air, and Asuka tensed. Was Wonder Girl going to punch her? Over a stupid anime opinion? Sure, let’s go, let’s throw down! In the grocery store! Because life is already that goddamn crazy! She could feel herself getting fired up.

...but then, Ayanami’s wrist went limp. Her hand twitched back and forth, a motion that practically short circuited Asuka’s guesses. What was she doing? Was there something seriously fucking amiss?! She directed her glare at the hand, then at the Rei attached to it. “The fuck’s wrong?!”

“I,” Ayanami began, still making the weird hand motion, “Can’t explain why.”

Asuka let out a sigh of relief, and immediately cursed the fact she was holding one in at all. “Well! Nice to see I’ve stumped you for once, then!” She let out a laugh that curdled in her mouth when she glanced back at Ayanami, whose face was a mask (well it was ALWAYS a stupid mask, a stupid blank pretty doll mask) of concentration. “Wait, is it, like... serious?”

Ayanami shook her head ever so slightly, and Asuka found herself wishing for the nine thousandth time that her rival could maybe find the guts to express herself more. It sucked a little, being the only one who could read the book that was Wonder Girl, but hey, take pride in all she can. “Your reasons?” Ayanami asked, more pointedly towards Asuka this time. 

“Well!” Asuka put her hands back on her hips and took a few moments to parse her thoughts, rattling off each one whenever it popped into mind. “It’s always some military bullshit, first off! Colorful space military, come join, fight the good fight, all that shady shit. Feels like propaganda for a thing that doesn’t even exist!”

“Japan does have a military,” Ayanami said.

“Do they have mechs, though?!” Asuka shot back.

“Fair, continue.”

“Right! And it’s always kids, or teens! Which, I get it, power fantasy, I love that shit sometimes, but like! That responsibility? On someone like, 14?!”

“That’s the conceit of most shows,” Ayanami pointed. Back and forth, good. Asuka craved these kinds of volleys.

“Yeah, but think about it! Superpowers, magic, both of those are usually, like, accidents? Or self-accepted, or born with? But like, a cool mech was built, designed, approved! Someone at the top of the line had to say, oh yeah, put a kid behind the wheel of that big stomping deathbot! What could go wrong?!”

“Much,” Ayanami conceded.

“And sometimes I...” Asuka paused, practically screaming at herself ‘GENUINE THOUGHTS, ABORT, ABORT, SHUT YOUR FUCK’, but her traitorous mouth kept going, “...get nightmares about like, me being in one, fighting all these other mechs, and the dream always starts out fun and perfect and like I’m doing something, and then--”

“And then?” Rei cut in, and Asuka didn’t know whether she wanted to deck her or collapse in her arms, but the words kept going either way.

“And then the mech gets hit, and I fall over, and everything hurts and I’m bleeding all over and I... and I fucking die, every time, I always die screaming and I always die alone!” Asuka hugged her arms to herself, winding down from her rant. She refused to look at Rei. “I just... It’d suck, to die in one of those. To die alone.”

Rei didn’t respond, and Asuka didn’t look... at least, not until she felt Wonder Girl’s cold, soft fingers, ghosting across the back of her left hand. She let go of her own arms, hands dropping to her side, and Rei’s fingers lightly caressed that hand again, then laced with Asuka’s longer, rougher ones. The grip was loose for just a moment, before Asuka gripped on like a lifeline. 

“Like this’ll help,” Asuka scoffed, voice barely above a whisper. “Like I need help. I’m fine! I’m-- Just gimme a moment, I’ll be fine.”

Rei gave a slight nod in response, and Asuka stayed quiet. Shallow breathing gave way to proper rhythm, and Asuka put her smirk back on. Everything’s fine. Can’t lose my grip. Thank fuck I didn’t cry. She refused to let go of Ayanami’s hand, though. “Your turn, Wonder Girl,” she prompted, bravado almost regrown.

“Dehumanization,” Ayanami responded. “In two forms.”

“...huh?” Asuka raised an eyebrow. Maybe Wonder Girl’s stance on it would be interesting after all. Especially given her whole... ’tool’... thing. “What d’you mean?”

“First form.” Ayanami held up her index finger. “Mechs are masks.”

Asuka tilted her head. This she wanted to hear.

Ayanami continued, “A person steps inside a mech enough, they stop being a person. They’re a computer, running the mech. The mech becomes them. Like a superhero, but...” She paused, waved her hand again. “But a hero sees their foes are people. If the two of us were in mechs...” Ayanami averted her gaze. “I wouldn’t know it was you. You’d just be a part of a big robot. Just a target. Easy to kill.”

“... yeah, that’s fucked up!” Asuka laughed nervously. How the fuck did it get this heavy? 

Ayanami nodded again and returned her stare to Asuka’s face. Her loose hold on Asuka’s hand tightened, almost imperceptibly, but Asuka felt it. “Apologies. Losing you is my worst-case scenario.”

Asuka felt her whole face erupt into a massive blush. Scheiße! What kind of stupid, pathetic, desperate, sweet, romantic shit is she pulling?! What do I SAY?! “You too!” Asuka blurted out, regretting it instantly. “Idiot!” she added, as if it’d sharpen the admittance into a stab rather than a confession.

It didn’t work; to Asuka’s sheer fury, Wonder Girl cracked the slightest of smiles, and... and blushed.

Rei could blush.

Asuka felt her heartbeat ramp up at just that sight. Desperately, she tried to reign the conversation back into direction. “But about the mecha! Your second reason?!” she asked, though she already had a pretty good idea of what it was.

“Second form: pilots are disposable,” Ayanami said, and Asuka dabbed inside her mind. “Anyone can pilot a mech if the pilot dies. Through replacement, or… cloning. The ‘same person’ could be one in a series. That gets internalized. I… would internalize that.” Her gaze grew distant. Scheiße. 

“Hey.” Asuka tugged a little on Rei’s hand, and maneuvered around so Rei was leaning on her. 

Rei didn’t respond. 

“There aren’t any more of you, dummy,” Asuka said. “You’re Rei Ayanami. The only Rei Ayanami.”

Rei responded only to nudge Asuka. Keep going, got it. 

“And...and even if there were more! Even if there were a thousand fucking Reis, you’re the only Wonder Girl.”

No response for a moment, two moments, three… then Rei began to hum. It was soft, tuneless... familiar, though. Rei’s hum. Her special weird way to say she felt safe, or happy, or content. Asuka didn’t really know which. Maybe it was all three. She knew, though, that she could listen to it forever.

Unfortunately...

“May I intrude?”

In an instant, the two rivals ripped away, Asuka with a shriek and a jump aside while Ayanami sidestepped silently. As her fury ratcheted from 1 to 14, Asuka’s gaze whipped over to the intruder on their moment.

Perched atop one of the shelves was the lanky, white-haired weirdo Asuka recognized as Kaworu. He was new in town, but he had made a fucking impression; not many people go door to door to tell everyone they’re new in town without being on some kinda list. He flashed a grin that struck Asuka as a little too wide. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Creep! Dummkopf!” Asuka hurled a string of further insults, finishing with, “And what the fuck are you doing up there anyway?!”

Kaworu’s grin remained. He spread his arms and seesawed his shoulders, like he had never shrugged before and was trying out the concept for the first time. “I climbed. Overheard your discussion and felt like joining.”

“What?” Ayanami asked before Asuka could tell him to go fuck off. 

“Mmm. What you mentioned, about... de-human-ing, was it? I find it even more tragic, from the unarmed foe’s perspective. Some powerful creature that,” he made strange air quotes, “‘must be dealt with’ is fighting tooth and nail against something made with the most perfect engineering humanity can figure. It’s...sad? Futile? I’m not sure of the proper word...” Lost in thought, Kaworu slipped off the shelf he was perched on and tumbled to the ground, landing on all fours with a hiss. 

Asuka burst out laughing, but it turned into a groan when she heard the frenzied patter of sneakers approaching the aisle. Great. Another person. And with my luck, it’s--

“Kaworu! Kaworu, are you okay?!”

...Shinji. Asuka rolled her eyes towards her currently-out-of-breath former classmate, who was scrambling to help Kaworu up, rambling on about workplace safety or something. Lots of things to call Shinji. Tryhard. Lab partner. Sorta friend. Rebound “crush.” Asuka decided to skip any polite pretense. Not a classroom, not Ayanami’s house, Shinji didn’t need to be her problem. “Hey, moron.”

“O-oh!” He seemed to notice the other two and waved a little. “Hey, Asuka, Rei, nice to see you two?”

“Brother,” Ayanami offered as her greeting for the moment. They had been officially siblings for awhile now, ever since the trial, but as far as Asuka knew they were still on shaky ground with each other. All the better, she didn’t want to deal with Shinji’s bullshit any more than she had to. 

“How serendipitous of you to arrive! We were just discussing an intriguing topic,” Kaworu announced, as if he were bringing up the obvious instead of grandfathering Shinji into his interruption. “Mecha? Mecha anime? Are you familiar with it, and what are your thoughts on the topic?”

“Uh...” Shinji’s eyes flicked between them, and shrunk in on himself a little. Asuka… okay, she had to admit, that was kind of a worrying way to take an easy question like that. He shrugged. “I-I’ve seen some Robotech, some Gundam, a little of Tiger and Bunny? Saw all of The Big O and really liked it, but... I stopped watching them, I guess.”

“Why? Ya get scared?” Asuka smirked. She refused to even think “mood” in relation to Shinji.

“Kinda? I mean, I-I--” he stuttered, stumbling over his words as ever, “I just, it stopped being fun? I started... I dunno. Thinking about the pressure I’d be under, if I really was in one of those. Can’t pretend I’m a cool robot pilot once I think of it like a responsibility.”

“And the responsibility could be so cruel,” Kaworu added, leaning on and over Shinji. The moron blushed pomegranate red, and Asuka clapped a hand over her own mouth, trying not to burst out laughing.

“I-I mean yeah, I--” 

“Let’s go.” Ayanami nudged Asuka, and she made an effort to tune Shinji out. Not like that was hard. “We’re running late.”

Asuka let out a sigh of relief and grabbed the shopping cart again. “Thank fuck. Let’s get the fuck outta this idiot stand... zone... whatever!”

“We had a good moment,” Ayanami observed, not commenting on the mangled insult. Who knows, maybe someday she’d get Wonder Girl to laugh. “And they ruined it.”

“Ugh! Yeah!”

“That moment. It could happen again.”

Asuka laughed. “In your dreams, Wonder Girl.”

[iphoenixrising]

For 800 Followers! The Wrong Robin

Babe recc’ed me a fic, Liminal Space by Calamityjim and a few profound things hit me in this fic. The author talks about how basically when shit gets broken, it’s broke. The Bats fucked Tim over and it’s not just a forgive-and-forget situation. It’s literally a darker world he’s living in and my fucking heart goes out to him. I write some angsty things about Tim not coming back to the Bats, but I do a few that really aren’t that, so this is inspired by the Tim that can’t go back.

So, for everyone that’s only wanted to do good things but still gets beaten down over and over again. I love you. I love you so so much.

**

Getting pissed really isn’t an option.

Because vigilantes arguing in the middle of a rooftop after an epic takedown is never good PR for the capes and cowls–

(but it isn’t like he’s really one of them anymore, right?)

“Can’t motherfuckin’ believe I’m hearin’ this shit, Pretender.” The Red Hood is standing tall against the night with forearms and fists clenched by his sides, fucking arguing with him like any of it means a damn thing.

“Am I in the Twilight Zone right now or some shit?” Red Robin comes back, sneering and baring his teeth in the semblance of a smile. “Who the fuck even are you?”

“Lookit here, asshole–”

But Red just moves, gets right up in Hood’s grill, whiteouts narrowed in the night, standing right the hell up to the Robin that once-upon-a-time was his (and welp, hadn’t that ship sailed?)

“Why are you even here?” He demands, low and dark, “wasn’t it enough to shove a Batarang in my chest? To almost slit my throat? Wasn’t that the fuck enough for you? And then this shit? You here telling me some pile of crap about how I should come back? Come back to what?”

Hood takes a step back, the tension in his shoulders and forearms loosening, “whoa, waitaminute, just wait–”

“You called me fucking Pretender, didn’t you?” Is even lower, the younger vigilante still as stone, “because that’s what I am, right? No matter what my intentions were, no matter how much of a beating I took all those years. None of that shit means a fucking thing, does it?”

“Look, kid, I don’t know what the hell yer goin’ on ‘bout. B just asked–”

“What? He asked you to tell me to get the fuck out of Gotham? Like I really need anyone to tell me that? Like I don’t already fucking know?”

Now it’s the Red Hood that stills, not even a huff or guffaw through the synths, just the tiniest movement of the helmet moving to track when Red Robin takes a step back.

“Go back and tell B to stop wasting your fucking time, Hood. He’s already got all his Robins.”

And Red knows he’s taking a real risk here, turning away from the vigilante that’s tried taking him out of the game more than once, one that hadn’t had a fucking moment of hesitation. He knows giving his back to Jason Todd could be the last mistake he ever makes.

Still, he’s not the same person he was back when the Battle for the Cowl was going down. He’s not the same person Jason Todd asked to be his Robin. He’s not the same person that died a little the day the tunic was taken right out of his hands.

He’s more pragmatic, less idealistic. He’s a vigilante that’s hit the grey areas and been able to come back–

(and fuck you, Bruce. Fuck you for coming after him when that little thing with Boomerang went down. When he didn’t let that murdering bastard die. When Red realized who he was, and that was not a murderer, when he wasn’t going to be like Boomerang or his future gun-toting Batman self. Fuck YOU, B. Jason got a second chance. Damian got a second chance. But him? Well, he’s the fucking Robin that was never chosen, so jumping all over him was pretty much fine.)

He’s pretty sure the fight between him and the Red Hood would go down very differently if he’d been that broken the last time they had it out. Hood never would have asked for Red to be another Batman’s Robin. He would have gotten the fuck you memo first thing.

But really, what does any of that matter now?

They’ve reached the end of his little Robin ride, so it’s time to cut his losses and move on – just like all of them pretty much wanted.

So he’s going to do just that. He’s going to stand with his team, take every lesson he’s ever learned from the Bats, and keep fucking moving. It’s what he’s been doing for a little more than a year, makes it easy to turn away from Hood, makes him narrow his eyes when a gloved hand catches his elbow unexpectedly just as he’s ready to shoot the grapple and take off into the night. Red Robin finds himself gone far enough from who and what he used to be that he’s already got a plan to put Jason Todd the fuck down this time.

(You’re not getting another chance to fuck me over, Todd. Not again.)

“Hey,” is low through the synths, the hand around his elbow not tight enough to be a hold, not really. “Lemme start again, yeah?”

“There’s no point in starting anything,” Red Robin doesn’t even turn to look over his shoulder, to acknowledge Hood, “everything has been over for a long damn time. Go back and tell them that.”

The grapple fires in the night, a bang, cuts off a “–wait a motherfucking minute!” when he’s pulled into space, pulled out in the dark Gotham night. A flicker of gold from the harness and utility belt, a dance of shadows in the shape of a flapping cape, and the younger vigilante is gone in a literal blink.

Hood shakes his head a little, thrown from the way his replacement brushed him completely off, sprouted old rhetoric from the days when the second Robin was one angry motherfucker.

And as much as he shouldn’t give two shits about the ig’nant fuck, the sight of that kid’s face when he was in the red, gold, and green, that face when he was clutching at his throat, bleedin’ like a stuck pig, looking so fucking devastated, is there in the Red Hood’s mind’s eye when he fires his own grapple and takes off in the opposite direction.

**

Dickie don’t make it any better. Not at all.

“He didn’t want to hear it, B,” the oldest Robin shakes his head sadly, “and maybe we should just let him go. He’s got his own team and a new ident. Maybe he’s just happier where he is.”

Stephanie Brown straightens up, mouth set in a grim line. But at the end of the day, she has nothing to argue, really. Her choices back then had been...questionable, even with the best of intentions. Scarab and faking her own death, piling more on a newly orphaned Robin hadn’t been the answer, hadn’t been the way to test his limits to see what would finally make him break.

It’s a few years too late for these realizations, and even when she wants to shove her face right up in Dick Grayson’s grill and argue–

She can’t.

And fuck, she hates it.

Behind them, Jason Todd is sitting at his workstation, back to the conversation after giving them a clipped, condensed version of events. At first, the two of them were talking low at the Batcomputer after a somewhat easy patrol.

She, Dick, and Dami had come in and started breaking out of the capes for the night before catching some of the conversation –

“Lil’ asshole didn’t stay long ‘nough ta listen, you feel me, B?”

“He wouldn’t even hear you out?”

Between getting out of the body armor and taking a shower, unwinding wrists and ankles, ruffling their Robin as much as possible just to have him “tt” at her and still grin when he turns away from her teasing, she’d come to stand on the outskirts with Dick, waiting to give her nightly report before crashing hardcore.

“Said ya already had all yer Robins. Also said ta tell ya ta stop wasting yer time n’ shit.”

The Dark Knight is silent, cowl back to air out his sweaty hair, arms crossed over his chest. The draw of his brows and deep frown are telling as to what he thinks of this little convo.

She’d been ready to ask who are you talking about? since all the previous Robins were, in fact, more at the Manor these days than even Alfred can remember. It’s rough and tumble sometimes, all of them grating on each other, but it really was what Batman Incorporated probably should have always been.

At least for the Batfamily.

But when she pauses, when the words get stuck in her throat, his masked face from way back when gives her pause, is still associated with old pains and regrets, and Steph has to take a long, deep breath.

That’s when Dick, who’d apparently also put the topic of conversation together, had stepped in to break the news to them.

“Maybe he’s just...moved on.”

She grinds her back teeth together, and can’t say a fucking thing.

**

“Tt,” is about as unconvincing as you can get. Certainly Drake will realize it.

“I asked what you wanted,” Red Robin reminds him, not bothering to look up from the microscope he’s studying.

“As I said,” Robin repeats, “Father has requested you return to Gotham. As I understand there is some yearly tradition he wishes to reinstate.”

“And as I said,” is unruffled, absent; the older vigilante obviously distracted as he jots down notes on a steno pad beside the microscope, “enjoy that. Don’t come back unless you need something important.”

Irritation wells up, but the teenager closes his eyes behind the whiteouts and takes a soft breath, trying to quell the emotion, reminding himself that Drake may be annoying and arrogant, but he was also once a Robin. He has had a few redeeming instances in his crime fighting career.

“This is important to Father, Drake,” Robin replies in an even tone, “he wants all the Bats to participate. Thus this applies to you.”

His predecessor’s muscles go tight in just the under suit, straightens away from the delicate equipment at one of the labs in Titan’s Tower, but still, he doesn’t bother to turn and face the current Robin head-on.

After a few seconds of silence, Red Robin goes back to the microscope. “C’mon, stop fucking around. Go back and tell him I said I was busy for, like, the next ten years or something.”

“That would be inaccurate.”

“Well, tell him I just said no.” Shrug of the shoulders, back to divided attention, and it is quickly starting to get more than just irritating.

“If I am to tell him that, Drake, then he will ask why.”

“Tell him I’m not his responsibility anymore. I mean, wouldn’t it be awkward if I did show up? Nobody needs that, and I have plenty to do here.”

Robin’s crossed arms loosen just a little, his back less rigid, the discussion in the Cave a few days ago still sitting in the back of his mind, making him wonder.

“Very well,” he makes it falsely light on purpose, “and when I return to Gotham with your answer, he will be the one to show up next. Unless you want to deal with that, you will need to provide better reasonings.” And a huff because he has no idea why he’s even still here, “Drake. They are a pain in the ass. This is not news to you. However,” and the pause, how he trails off is the things that finally gets the older vigilante to glance over his shoulder, “they are family. They are your family and mine. It is...troublesome at times, but they are what they are.”

Whatever he said is enough to make the older vigilante stop what he’s doing and lightly brace just his fingertips on the countertop as he stands.

Drake turns and approaches slowly, whiteouts up and face utterly impassive. A few feet between them and his predecessor breaks it out, calm and low when Robin feels like this visage is only another type of mask.

“Family? You think I’m family? That I ever was in the first place?”

Robin’s arms tighten.

“I didn’t want to be Robin forever,” Drake keeps going and Robin can imagine his eyes are cold and calm behind the domino, “I gave it ten years or so. That should have been plenty of time for B to get over Jason’s death. At least enough that he would get control over himself back. But the longer I was in the tunic, the more people that died around me, the more I had to change so I didn’t end up doing the same thing he did. There wasn’t another kid to hang around and keep me from destroying myself, so I had to keep my shit together.”

Robin’s mouth is slightly open, wondering why all this is coming out now? He and Drake have always been little more than rivals. This heartfelt account makes Robin uncomfortable for several reasons–

Primarily because he’s never been interested in his predecessor’s time in the tunic. It had simply never mattered, not when he took over the Robin mantle and strove to make it his rather than Drake’s.

“But when he disappeared, and everything that happened afterwards. All of that made me realize that no matter what I did, or what I tried to do, it was never supposed to have been me in that tunic.” A gloved finger flicks to the R on Robin’s left shoulder. “I wasn’t family, Damian. Not from the moment I put it on for the first time, and not at the end when Dick pulled it out from under me. Family? Family wouldn’t do that.”

And even if it’s difficult, Robin tries to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry.

“The last time I even talked to your dad? Was when the Boomerang thing happened, you know that, right?” And Red Robin goes still enough that Robin wonders if he’s even breathing. “No one died, and even though I didn’t let that happen, I’m the one that didn’t get a second chance. Not like you or Jason. All those years, all the times I pulled him out of the fire, all those years I thought he was my friend, my partner, my family. All of it meant nothing in the end.”

And Drake takes one step closer, just one, arms still crossed over his chest, head tilted down, but Robin feels like his chest is so tight, like he can’t even get a breath.

“So,” and Drake’s voice is softer now, gentle almost, “he won’t be showing up. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s probably time for you to go back to Gotham. Batman...needs a Robin.”

And if his vision blurs behind the whiteouts suspiciously as Drake walks away from him, through the open doors of the lab, no one would be the wiser.

[miragecounseling]

OH YEAH the "rise and fucking shine, motherfucker" is the one I chose. For whoever you want! ☀️✨

jekhjkhg i love this one ty 

---

Vax wiped the sweat from her brow and pushed the loose strands of hair out of her eyes. She reached back and undid her ponytail, letting her long dark burgundy hair spill over her shoulders. 

The sun was setting and soon the night’s creatures would be out to play. She gathered the wood she had been chopping and began walking back to the small cabin she’d been staying in. 

She walked in silence, keeping alert for any trouble that may be lurking in the shadows of the forest. With her cabin in sight, she let her guard down a bit and picked up her pace, eager to start a fire so she could get some sleep in a warm cabin. 

The door was heavy and creaked with every push and pull. Vax knew most would find it an annoyance and attempt to oil the hinges, but she liked it. It made her feel safer knowing that no one would be able to sneak in unnoticed. Not that there was much room to hide in the cabin. It was modest: a single room containing a firepit, bed far too small for her large Norn frame, table and chairs, and a bookcase with a collection that was more dust than books. There was a place to relieve herself and clean herself outside, but she preferred to heat water over the fire and wash herself with rags instead. 

Vax set a few small logs into the firebox to feed the small fire that remained from before she left. It slowly roared to life and she sat close, enjoying the warmth caressing her face. 

The tiredness that had been creeping up on her all day overwhelmed her suddenly. Her eyes felt heavy and she lifted herself off of the floor and into bed, not even bothering to change her clothes. 

She pulled the thick quilt over her tired body and let her eyes flutter close, the crackling of the fire rocking her to sleep. 

---

Morning came in what seemed like minutes, though it had actually been about five hours. And for Vax that was considered sleeping in. She stretched her arms above her head and sighed as she sat up. 

Her stomach rumbled as she changed out of yesterday’s clothes. She normally preferred to wear her full armor, but it wasn’t very practical for daily tasks like chopping wood and cooking so her lighter leather set would have to do. She slung her quiver over her shoulder and grabbed her shortbow. 

‘Hopefully game will be easy to find this time of day,’ she thought to herself before heading out, the creaks of the door making a small smile appear on her lips for a moment. 

She huffed and replaced it with a grimace quickly, ‘Vaxthys you’re such a monster... The norn girl who lost it and hasn’t smiled at another soul in years, but smiles at doors.’ 

A loud crash followed by deep, unruly laughter stopped Vax in her tracks. She lowered herself to the ground and pulled an arrow out, ready to pounce if need be. She peered over the bushes and saw a large woman and man. Norn, like her. She was supposed to be alone, who travels through these woods unless to escape?

A small head with unkempt orange hair poked out from a tent. The child smiled at the two norn in front of him, a large toothy grin spread across his face. 

“Stefan! You’re up so early, boy!” the man shouted with a smile as he ruffled the boys hair, “Ray, are you sure we’ve brought our son and not some well behaved human noble boy?”

The woman shook her head and chuckled while she continued to cook. 

“Dad! I’m almost 11 now, I’m practically an adult!” the kid said, hands on his hips in what she assumed he thought looked like a dominant pose, “Adults have to wake up early! It’s like you always say to the cattle..”

He paused to shovel some food in his mouth and his father looked at him bemusedly, one brow cocked. 

“Rise and shine, motherfuckers!” he shouted, food spilling out of his mouth.

There was a moment of silence before the loudest laughter Vax had heard... possibly ever. Even she had a hard time holding back a chuckle. The woman wiped his face off while biting her lip in a feeble attempt to hold back the laughter. 

“You’re a quick learner, Stefan!” the man shook his head and sat next to the boy, the smile never leaving his face. 

Vax lowered her bow and stowed the arrow before backing away silently. A sadness she hadn’t felt in years settled into the pit of her stomach- an ache... a yearning? She shook her head in an attempt to push the thoughts out.

She stood up and continue on her hunt for breakfast, letting the family’s laughter echo in her head.

[leporellian]

how i got into opera (unabridged)

i realize i’ve never mentioned how i got into opera before and it’s like. it was a whole ass Odyssey and i really feel like confessing my sins today.

‘so how do you find a special interest’ watch this.

RIGHT so i actually was exposed to opera all the damn time as a baby because my grandmother thought, for some dumbass reason, that opera calms babies down. which she was apparently right so i’m not gonna debate that shit but has she ever been to an opera. literally every damn minute of the ring cycle could traumatize a baby. literally what the fuck. but that’s not where this story begins because i don’t remember ANY of that shit.

anyway so as a kid i was always on that bullshit with THESE fucking things

these were supposed to make your baby smart or something but they didn’t work because i have the processing speed of the fuckin Pony Express. but they were good. (except for the beethoven one, which terrified me. fuck beethoven.) they were like, soothing images/puppets/toys with a backdrop of classical music scored on a marimba, which was like CRACK COCAINE to an autistic kid like myself so i watched these until i was in 4th grade despite the box saying ‘for ages under 3′ which really shows you how ineffectual these were at actually making kids smart. now this was like, the opera gateway drug, because it buttered me up into liking opera/classical music, which is a CAPITAL Sin.

so by this point i already like classical music. unless it’s by beethoven because he freaked me the F u c k out. which is where... 

PURRPALS FOR THE DS comes in

this game was literally a shameless nintendogs clone that was made to sell purina cat food. it was absolutely fucking bizarre. however i was a seven year old with a nintendo Dee Ess and toxoplasmosis gondii practically running in their Bloodstream i was on this shit like a hare in heat. but the important part of the gameplay was this guitar hero clone where you had to stage a fucking cat acapella group

it was easy as shit, being a badly designed game made for selling 

PURINA 

CAT 

LITTER, 

so i would immediately go to the hard levels, which were as follows.

- THE MAGIC FLUTE - RIGOLETTO - LA HABANERA - TORADOR

first of all these motherfuckers took one song from the magic flute and one song from rigoletto and said it was the WHOLE OPERA but THEY COULDN’T EVEN FIND A FOURTH OPERA SO THEY WENT WITH CARMEN TWICE. what WACKADOO Chicanery. also why the FUCK was rigoletto there it’s really the third wheel of this whole affair. anyway so since i played this shit regularly enough i was able to remember the song names, which, i had no idea what the fuck they were about but as a kid you never know what the fuck anything is about so i really was not bothered. i think i thought the magic flute was a ballet in the same cinematic universe as the Nut Crack Ker or something

anyway.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FRESH BEAT BAND

I HATED THIS SHOW WITH EVERY CORE OF MY BEING. i don’t know WHY but i felt such extreme secondhand embarrassment when i saw this show at the ripe old age of seven that when the school’s music teacher, which was the same one that loudly declared her loyalty to Mitt Romney in class one day (which is a different but no less entertaining story) showed a clip of this to us it was the first time i realized nothing was stopping me from walking out of the school. (which i didn’t. because i was a pussy. but fuck this show.) there was some dumb ass episode where all of the characters were doing different music styles or whatever- i really wasn’t paying attention i was on the computer in the same room of the television looking up how much my littlest pet shop toys were worth on ebay- and then they start singing 

LA FUCKIN HABANERA.

“i know that song!” i said, which sounds like joyful recognition, but in my head i was thinking something more akin to “WHAT THE FUCK THAT BITCH IS STEALING THE SONG FROM PURRPALS ON THE DS. LEARN YOUR COPYRIGHTS YOU HOE.” my parents immediately went ‘nah it has to have a different name’, which is when my ENTP really came out. i don’t believe in meyers-briggs but i got entp on the test and it basically means ‘stubborn little bastard who will start an argument with Literally Anyone” which is Kin Me Id. anyway i started being all ‘no i KNOW because PURRPALS on the DS told me’ so my parents were like ‘fine let’s just make the kid be quiet’ and looked it up on itunes. No Shit, i was right, because i knew my

PURRPALS 

LORE.

so anyway my parents knew my grandmother was crazy batshit for opera, which my grandmother actually used to hate opera but then a friend of hers who liked opera killed herself and then she decided to listen and went ‘nah this is actually kinda a bop’, which again a whole nother story, so they immediately tell her that i know about opera. which i DIDN’T i just knew about PURRPALS on the DS. so now my grandmother decides “aight i’m taking the grandkid to carmen at the LYRIC OPERA HOUSE”. 

i was seven and i didn’t know what ANY of those words MEANT. but my parents made me wear a dress and a purse so i figured it was an Occasion. (i filled the purse with nothing but goldfish crackers. they weren’t even in a ziploc baggie inside the bag i just dumped like half a carton of them directly into the purse.) 

so anyway i liked watching carmen but it wasn;t like it was anything special to me at the time. like you could have replaced it with Madagascar 2: Escape 2 Africa and it would have the same effect. 

UNTIL ACT FOUR. 

my grandmother was never exactly aware of my reading abilities until i was maybe like, 13. she didn’t think i was actually understanding anything in the little program thing they give you. but i realized, right as act 3 finished, that carmen was going to be stabbed in the next act

ON STAGE

and i lost my shit.

“that doesn’t even make sense!” i told my grandmother as we left the building. (i thankfully didn’t make a scene but i was shaking like an abused grayhound, or some shit.) “don jose is a bad guy carmen would have stabbed him first.” (thankfully there’s a production where that actually happens. so some day i will sue them because they plagiarized from my filibuster in the lyric ladies’ bathroom about carmen when i was seven.)

“there are operas with happy endings!” she said. i wasn’t sure i believed her because i watched that one bugs bunny episode where they do wagner. 

so anyway, like 7 months later my grandmother tells my parents she’ll take me to see the magic flute, also at the lyric, because it’s a child friendly opera, which, it’s

AN OPERA ABOUT FREEMASONRY CULTS AND RACISM AND SEXISM WITH TWO OR MORE ATTEMPTED SUICIDES AND A HITMAN PLOT

but by this point nobody really cared and this time i was sure i wouldn’t freak because i had trained myself into not crying at movies, because my parents didn’t allow me to watch movies that made me cry so i exploited a loophole, which again, another story. i knew about the magic flute vaguely because it was in Purrpals on the DS. 

now that i knew what the magic flute was- vaguely, my grandmother told me nothing about it except that it was an opera- i asked my grandmother what rigoletto was. “oh it’s the same thing as the hunchback of notre dame!”

i still don’t know what the fuck she meant by this.

anyway i loved the magic flute- which had the same music as that baby einstein tape all those years ago so it immediately felt familiar- and as soon as i got home i went and decided that i was going to know everything to know about it. 

and that’s how i got into opera.