#safe to say the new shuffle has me crazy

[ejnherjar]

hey guys. Guess what. More 🦬🦊🐼

[rizsu]

not delusional sano brothers & haitani brothers.

-> haikyuu & jujutsu kaisen version

shinichiro sano.

“shin,” a little girl calls for her brother. curious hands safely holding shinchiro's phone as she runs through the shop to find her brother. reaching her destination, emma stands on the tip of her toes, holding out his phone up to his face, “who's this girl?”

shoving his cigarette down into the ashtray, shinichiro lifts emma onto his hip. he squints at the phone's screen before looking back at his eight year old sister with a smile, “curious?”

“mhm!”

emma sways her head side to side waiting for an answer from him. shinichiro takes his phone from her, placing it into his pocket while he walks out from his shop and to the house.

“she's my girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND!?”

emma slaps both hands on her mouth, wide eyes looking at her brother in genuine shock. embarrassment settles in shinichiro, he did not need his little sister to shout so loudly. was it really that shocking!? he sets her down the moment he stepped into their home, letting out an airy laugh as he smoothens emma's skirt, “yes, i'm not lying.”

emma's face merges into another shocked expression, her eyebrows raised and her lips curved into an ‘O’. nodding twice emma runs off into the house, whisper-yelling “mikey! mikey!” she's probably going to tell him the jaw-dropping news.

manjiro sano.

draken's suspicious. mikey's been awfully quiet and smiles to himself a lot. raising an eyebrow, draken takes another sip of his drink, is he going crazy? he judges mikey again. for the fifth time this day, mikey's giggled and smiled to himself like a little girl thinking about her celebrity crush.

“what the hell is going on with you?!” draken questions, he takes hold of a random fork from the table, pointing it at mikey demanding an answer.

“say, ‘ken,” mikey speaks, resting both elbows on and clasping his fingers together, he leans in closer before continuing, “what would you do if you got a girlfriend?”

draken, though holding a normal expression, is currently surprised. what does mikey mean? did mikey score a girl? is he truly going insane? questions that'll never find their answers. opening his mouth to answer, draken immediately closes it—he has to think about his answer precisely.

“i'd probably want to show her off? why the fuck are you asking me this!?”

“perfect answer because you see,” mikey stops himself, he leans over the table to whisper in draken's ear, “I GOT A GIRL!” he shouts and receives a slap on the head.

“first of all, never do that again.” draken rubs his ear, rolling his eyes as he shoos mikey away.

“secondly, are your impulses getting worse? need me to get you your comfort snack?” draken genuinely questions. he thinks mikey's gone insane.

“...don't talk to me.” slapping his palms on the table, mikey dramatically slings his bag on his shoulder walking out the shop with fake tears.

ran haitani.

rindou opens the door after three knocks. he looks at you up and down for five seconds before concluding that you got the wrong house. so what does he do? he closes the door but luckily, ran saw you and held the door open.

“don't lock my girl out, rin.”

“sorry, my bad—YOUR GIRL!?”

rindou stops from walking back to his room and spins around immediately. he points at ran before pointing at you, clearly he's confused. from what rindou remembers, ran's a loser that sweet talks but never manages to get past that, so what does he mean by “my girl”?!

you stand there awkwardly while the two brothers bicker. ran's offended and rindou's just rindou. looking at the two brothers, you decide to stop them and introduce yourself.

“hello, i'm y/n.”

“hi, i'm rindou. anyways, RAN.”

he shouts ran's name, demanding further explaination. and what does ran do? shuffle past rindou while pulling you your wrist. he pulls you in front of him before looking back at his younger brother with a lazy smile, “i'll tell you the details later.”

rindou rolls his eyes, walking into his room but before that, he responds to ran, “you better. good night you two.”

rindou haitani.

“you look like a creep.” sanzu walks up to rindou, resting his cold soda on rindou's head. his eyes move to what rindou's watching and looks back to him with a teasing smile.

“what do you mean by creep.” rindou says, slapping off sanzu's drink.

“well, if i saw a random thirty year old man dressed in dark tones looking at a girl i'd think you're a creep—without context of course.” sanzu defends himself, sitting beside rindou slinging an arm over the bench's backrest.

rindou raises his middle finger to sanzu's face, he's not going to listen to him anymore. unlocking his phone, he texts you.

rindou smiles at your texts which creeps sanzu out. seriously, he's getting goosebumps so he must talk about it.

“gang executive smiles at silly texts with his girlfriend, how unsettling.” sanzu feigns a tremble, looking at rindou in pure disgust as if he committed a crime.

“shut up, pill popper and how did you know..” squinting his eyes at sanzu, rindou questions. how did sanzu know? what was bonten's number two doing to find out such information? how bored was sanzu?

giving rindou a grin, sanzu gives him a vague answer, “i have my ways.”

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in September?

It's been a while since I've done a PAC, but I felt like doing one today. I've used charms and intuition for this one. Pick the pile you're feeling drawn to and see what awaits you in the next September.

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason of making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

Group 1

As I was asking what awaits you in September while picking charms, a charm with words meaning “fingers crossed” (the message is written in my native language and literally means “holding thumbs” though, which looks like this 👍) fell to the ground. In that same moment I holded another charm, about to take it out of the bowl, saying “a selfie together?”. The way this first charm looks, it gives me a feeling someone (your spirit guides, maybe) is rooting for you to have enough courage to ask somebody to take a selfie together. Maybe you’ll make a “thumbs up” gesture while taking this photo. I asked for additional context of this selfie and the charms which I took out (all close together) were “smile”, “you’re cool” and “I like you just the way you are”. A friend? A crush? My mind keeps going to a scenario of a confident female friend (or at least femininely presenting), especially a new one, and I see done nails (especially hybrid nails, colorful, or with small diamonds on each one), and I think about Agnes from Despicable Me and Priya from Turning Red for some reason. Maybe this person has some similarities to them. I think about a “girl’s girl”, with a distinct style and someone who hypes you up. And probably someone you aren’t close with yet. I don’t know to what extent this scenario will resonate with all of you, but coming back to the more universal beginning, the charms are telling you to not overthink it, smile and take a selfie with someone if you feel like it.

 Group 2

The first charm coming out was “you called?”, then “now you can go crazy” (with this one I almost took out a charm with “shall we dance?”, but it slipped out back into the bowl) and lastly “that was a good evening”. With the way I was taking out one charm at the time, and didn’t feel like I have to mix charms for too long, you have a rather grounded vibe to me. Like, you do one thing at the time, and you are quite sure about what you want to do. Now, with the messages written on charms, it’s either you taking somebody out or someone taking out you - I feel like in most cases it’s gonna be the latter, with how grounded the vibe you gave me is, and the “now you can go crazy” message. You have an approval of doing something unusual for you for once lol (of course, always stay safe). Pretty straightforward, going out with somebody out in the evening (I see mostly a male friend with a kinda class clown energy, or a bigger group of friends). This “shall we dance?” charm slipping out makes me curious. Someone will like to ask another person to dance, but won’t say it in the end? Or maybe another person refuses? The first one feels more plausible though. I see mostly a city setting, like going for a walk when it’s dark and there are street light, and so few cars someone could think about dancing on the street for a moment (again, stay safe, I don’t really feel any bad vibes, but I’m telling you this just in case). For the whole reading I felt like shuffling a song for you, so here it goes: Ship in a Bottle by fin.

Group 3

With this pile I felt kind of unconcentrated, as if I couldn’t pick what to do. If you felt drawn to one of the previous piles, check them and then come back here. The charms from them were showing up for a moment, almost getting picked up. Your charms are “a coincidence…?” and “every occasion is good”, taken out together, which makes quite a lot of sense. Something unplanned is going to happen, but there’s no reason to not do what you had in mind for some time if an occasion shows up. As I asked for more, “that was a good evening” fell out. I kept mixing charms, but it felt like that’s all they have to tell you, I didn’t feel that I absolutely have to take out some other charm out of the bowl. However, it fell weirdly unsatisfactory, and my mind went to cards with song quotes I’ve made and use sometimes during divination. Low and behold, I didn’t fully finish the question and one card fell out: “Sometimes the worst of ‘em have the best disguises/He’ll go as far as it takes to stay in hiding/Uh, don’t you know, don’t you know/’Bout the devil, he’s a gentleman” from “The devil is a gentleman” by Merci Raines, and at the back of the deck is “I used to think that I was bold/I used to think love was for fun/Now all my stories have been told/Except for one” from “You will be okay” by Sam Haft, used in Helluva Boss as a lullaby a father sings to his daughter after her nightmare. So it feels like someone is up to no good, and for most of you that person is either a love interest, a paternal figure or a man in power (a priest and a teacher came to my mind, but it may be someone else). I don’t want to scare you, of course, it doesn’t have to be as serious as it could appear in your head. Just remember to stick to your guts and listen to your gut feelings. While the first pile feels excited and rather young, and the second a little older, logical and grounded, this one feels a little stuck and probably the oldest (either you’ve seen some things or are a working adult is what I’m getting). It looks like it’s about time to get rid of what’s not serving you and spend a nice evening. You may have some problems with confidence, but it doesn't mean you should put up with anyone's bullshit.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Part 1

Summary: Maybe the relationships worth fighting for were the ones in which you had to fight the hardest.

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: Language, vague references to violence, light public wankery

Author’s Note: This one has been sitting in my inbox for literal years so I hope you’re still in an angsty mood after all this time. Was meant to be a oneshot but hey I got carried away what can I say.

---

Three loud knocks hammered against your door. It made you jump every time he did that, you were used to your guests ringing the buzzer.

You checked the time as you hurried across the length of your cramped apartment, cursing under your breath when you saw that it was almost nine. Him finishing work this late was never good news. Whatever had happened, whether it be another drawn out meeting or an unplanned, after-hours assignment, it would almost definitely have left him in a shitty mood.

You sighed. It used to be that bad days for him were few and far between, now they seemed to outnumber the good ones. 

Sliding the chain off and turning the lock, your heart sank when you pulled the door backwards and caught sight of his miserable expression. You wished so much that there was more you could do to uplift him when he felt like this but, short of marching into his office and scolding his colleagues as if they were suave-suited school children, you were helpless. All you could do was try to help him take his mind off things.

“Hey, Hot Shot.”

He managed to summon a weak but warm smile, planting a kiss on your temple as he shuffled past. “Hey. The crazy newspaper lady let me in again.”

“I figured,” you pushed the door shut and followed him inside, “did she give you another fistful of clippings?”

“Whatta you think?”

He stuffed a hand into his pocket and set down a few scrunched up papers on the coffee table before dropping onto the couch. With a smirk, you picked them up and smoothed them out, scanning your eyes over the headlines. 

“Bless her, she always saves the business stories for you.”

“Yeah, why is that?”

“Probably ‘cause you’re always in a suit and I’m always referring to you as Hot Shot.”

“You talk to her?”

Realising your mistake, you stopped absentmindedly thumbing through the clippings, lifted your gaze to his and shrugged. “Occasionally.”

He narrowed his eyes. You knew exactly what he was thinking. He didn't like the idea of you going near her, he thought it wasn’t safe, probably thought you’d end up locked in her apartment and chopped into tiny pieces that she’d save and use as bullion cubes. 

So now probably wasn’t the best time to bring up your weekly visits to her apartment for coffee and cake. 

Sure, she was a little intimidating to look at, with her wild eyes and deep, sunken cheeks, but she was a sweetheart really. She’d started tearing up newspapers in the downstairs lobby after her husband died a few years ago. He loved his morning reading and she loved clipping out his favourite stories and saving them for him, apparently doing it for other people was the only thing keeping her going now she was alone. You just wished you could think of a way to explain all that to Bucky without incurring his paranoia.

His glare wasn’t letting up. You knew if you didn’t swiftly change the subject there was a danger he might start trying to convince you to move into his much nicer, much bigger and much safer apartment again. As much as you appreciated the offer, it had taken so much for you to move to the city on your own, and you weren’t ready to give up your independence just yet. You were happy the way things were.

You cut in as soon as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Rough day?”

His head collapsed backwards. “Mhmm.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Nah, s’alright, just seemed like everyone was out to piss me off.”

“Can’t say I blame ‘em.”

He chuckled gruffly as you flopped down beside him, his arm moving to cradle your shoulders and hug you tight to his side. “Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“You wanna order pizza?”

“Definitely.” 

You leaned forward and rustled around for the takeout menu in your coffee table junk drawer. Bucky shifted slightly, out the corner of your eye you could see him starting to dig the fingers on his free hand into his knee. He cleared his throat nervously before speaking again.

“Can I pay this time?”

“We’ll split it.” 

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-”

“Buck.” You gave him a look as you dropped the menu in his lap. “We’ll split it.”

He didn’t push back. You’d gotten pretty good at standing your ground out of necessity because, if Bucky got his way, you’d never be allowed to spend a single dollar. He earned a lot more than you, a helluva lot more, but you still preferred to keep things equal. You got by just fine. 

The two of you settled in on the couch together. He hustled downstairs when the buzzer sounded and you demolished the pizza in front of the TV, enjoying the peace of each other's company, chuckling at whatever shitty reality show was on at 9pm on a weeknight. 

Despite his best efforts, though, it was obvious that something still wasn’t quite right with him. He needed some help unwinding.

“Hey, you wanna hear something funny? It might cheer you up.”

His head lolled towards you, a wide smile creeping over his lips. “Go on.”

“So, at work this afternoon, Judy was doing her rounds upstairs when she noticed a guy tucked in the corner by adult fiction. It’s pretty routine to get the odd embarrassed reader trying to hide away up there but apparently he was grunting like a professional tennis player , her words.”

“Jesus.”

“Mhmm. So she called the cops and they hustled up there, apparently he’d been jerking off in the aisle to a fucking Mills & Boon novel called The Dark Duke . We had to get the janitor to get rid of it in a biohazard bag, poor guy. He’ll probably call in sick tomorrow from the trauma.” You were laughing through your words but, when you looked over at Bucky, an incredibly stern face was looking back. “C’mon, you gotta admit that’s funny.”

“It’s not funny that you’re around creeps like that every day.”

“This city is full of creeps, just so happens that a few of them have library cards.” You flashed your eyebrows at him, he didn’t even crack a smile. “Jesus, Buck, you don’t think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

“No, I don’t.”

The two of you fell into silence. His eyes flicked away from you for a second, his expression suddenly becoming resolute. You could see the words forming in his throat. You knew exactly what was coming.

“You really need to think about coming to work at my place.”

You jumped up from the couch. “I can’t have this conversation again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re already in a shitty mood and me making the same argument I’ve made a thousand times before isn’t gonna help.”

You picked up the empty pizza box and trudged through to the kitchen, hoping that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t, unfortunately, because he decided it was smart to jump up and follow you like an irritating child.

“I just don’t get why you won’t take it. It’s better money, better hours and we’ll practically be-”

“Practically be working together yeah, I know, I’ve heard this speech before and the answer is the same. Thank you, but I’m happy where I am.”

“You wanna work in a fuckin’ library forever?”

You threw the box down on the counter and swivelled round to face him. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about my choices like that, like you know better.”

“Jesus, I’m just tryna’ look out for you.”

You shook your head, in disbelief that you’d been dragged into this argument once again. “Whatever.”

“Is that it?”

“I honestly don’t know what you want from me, Buck.”

“I want to know why you’d rather stay in a shitty job and a shitty apartment than have something better.”

“Because I don’t want to work for your fucking father, alright?”

His face dropped. You realised that your words had come out with much more venom than intended but, in all fairness, this had been building up for a while. You’d been with Bucky long enough to know what kind of business his family was in and you wanted no part of it. Your love for him had helped you move past your unease about what he did for a living, because you knew with utmost certainty that he was a good man at heart, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of them. You wouldn’t allow yourself to get dragged in too. 

He clenched his jaw for a second before biting his cheeks, his head slowly beginning to nod, anger rising in his face. You just waited. Anyone else might have been scared of him in this moment, of how he seemed to be coiling up like a threatened snake ready to strike, but you weren’t. He’d never given you any reason to be.

His mouth fell open but quickly snapped closed before any distinguishable words could escape. With a loud huff, he stormed away, yanking his jacket from the couch as he passed and tearing your front door open. 

You saw him hesitate in the corridor for a second. He brushed his hand over his hair before suddenly lashing out, striking the side of his fist against the doorframe. The whole wall shuddered.

“Whoa, hey.” You hurried over and reached for his shoulder. “That looked like it hurt, are you-”

He grabbed you. 

Your eyes locked with his, you’d never seen him this angry before. In fact, you were so caught up in his warped expression that it actually took you a few seconds to feel his grip, to feel how tightly he was squeezing and how his fingertips dug into the space between the veins and tendons in your wrist. You frantically looked down at his white-knuckled hand and tried to yank yourself free, hoping that any amount of resistance would encourage him to release. He didn’t let go. You looked back up at him. 

No words were exchanged, but you saw in his face the moment he realised he was hurting you. The redness in his cheeks seemed to drain away in an instant, leaving behind a deathly paleness that highlighted how quickly the tension dissolved from the muscles in his jaw and forehead. 

He let go.

With panic thumping in your chest, you quickly stepped backwards and slammed the door. You sheltered behind it, frozen, as he softly knocked against the wood and apologised over and over again. 

You stayed there until you heard him walk away.

---

Part 2

---

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[porcelana-r0ta]

The Curse of Sight

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Time Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat. 

Word Count: 2690

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44788813

[Part 2]

When Wes Weston's parents divorced, they decided that he should stay with his dad in Amity Park. After all, small town Amity is much safer than big city Gotham, where his mother was moving in order to accept a promotion with Wayne Enterprises. Wes, in order to still see his mom, would visit her in Gotham every summer and every other holiday.

Of course, Amity soon became more dangerous than Gotham could even dream of thanks to the hell portal in the Fenton's basement that killed and bore Phantom, but whatever. No one ever listened to Wes anyway, and he learned to shut his mouth when Sam Manson shoved him against the lockers and asked him what he thought would happen to Danny Fenton if the Ghost Investigation Ward ever believed his “crazy as shit imagination.”

She was still playing the "Wes is crazy" game, even when defending her boyfriend.

Still, she was right. Danny was safer without him trying to convince Amity's negligent populace that Danny was Phantom. (Even if it absolutely drove him mad that no one but him was capable of making the connection between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom.) So he shut up. He deleted his conspiracy theory blog and even asked Tucker Foley to wipe all remnants of its existence from the internet, a request which his classmate happily obliged. He even said, "I'm glad you're moving on from this whole Fenton-Phantom obsession, Wes."

Professional gaslighters, the lot of them.

So yes, Wes had thoroughly given up on the superhero ID evidence schemes by the time he left to visit his mom after his freshman year of high school. He had made peace with it and settled back into reading mystery novels or movies and solving the case before the protagonists in place of proving Phantom’s ID.

When he came to Gotham, he had to get a new library card so he could keep up with his mystery novel hyperfixation. He happens to take just a little too long in the library, so by the time he has a nice stack of books to check out, it's dark outside.

Great, walking back to my mother's apartment in the dark in Gotham. Seems super safe.

Well, Gotham is no Amity, right?

So he marches on and tries not to be too resigned when he's inevitably yanked into an alleyway even though the apartment is only three blocks from the library.

Classic.

It's just a man with a gun, his face obscured with a hood and a red bandana. He's literally nothing compared to Pariah Dark or Undergrowth or Dr. Spectra or even the fucking Box Ghost.

"Let me guess," he says. "You want any cash I have, right?"

"Kid, shut the hell up and fork over your money," says the man, and Wes sighs. The mugger didn't even wave around his gun or give an impassioned speech about stealing someone's pelt.

"Original," Wes intones. "But I'm fifteen. And everyone knows young people don't carry cash anymore. I guess I could give you my mom's emergency credit card that she gave me, but she did say it was for emergencies only, so."

The man just stares at him. Wes shuffles uncomfortably.

"Oh! And I could just cancel the card before you use it," Wes adds into the silence.

"You don't consider being held at gunpoint an emergency?" the mugger finally asks, looking uncertain.

"Should I?" Wes wonders aloud. Sam had been much scarier when she threatened him.

"You said you're fifteen? And you don't have a Gothamite accent?" the man offers his reasoning, as if it's any kind of logical. He'd fit in well in Amity for that trait alone.

"Gothamites always think they're so superior." He has to roll his eyes. "Guns aren't that scary. You know what is scary? Your whole town being dragged into the dimension of death for three days. This is nothing. This city is nothing." You are nothing. He knows better than to say that last part, though;

"Christ, kid, you're crazy." The man shook his head and pulled the hammer of his gun back. "Just-- give me the watch you're wearing."

Wes sighs again, "Whatever, I'm not fighting for it." It was literally just a cheap Walmart watch. But just as he goes to unlatch the watch from his wrist, a caped vigilante swings down from the rooftops and kicks the mugger straight into the pavement.

The mugger doesn't get back up.

"Thanks, Red Robin," Wes dutifully says, even though he's pretty sure the man was A) not really that much of a threat, and B) going to have serious brain trauma now.

"It's no problem," the vigilante says. "You're a little young to be out this late, though."

Well, that's rude. It's only 7:00 pm. The only reason it's dark at all is thanks to Gotham's pollution problem. (Maybe they should let Poison Ivy just go fucking feral, like Sam suggests.)

Wes doesn't say that. Instead he says: "Didn't you start crime fighting when you were, like, twelve?"

Red Robin sputters, but Wes continues, "And the first Robin couldn't have been more than nine. I have never picked a fight with hardened criminals." Do ghosts count as criminals? Surely not. What right does Wes have to dictate the morals of being from a completely different dimension? "So I think I'm doing better than you in the safety department, no offense."

Well, doing better in Gotham. But the Justice League doesn't need to know about Amity Park, so he'll leave that part out.

"I-- just--" Red Robin struggles for a second, and then clears his throat. "Why don't I escort you home?"

"I'm two blocks away, but thanks. And thanks again for the---" he waves to the unconscious mugger. Definitely brain damaged.

"Yeah, no problem." And then he grapples away.

Phantom's much cooler. Not that he'll ever say that in front of Danny, Sam, or Tucker. Or anyone from Amity.

He makes it safely home, even if he does pretend to not notice the Bat stalking him from above. And of course, once he recounts his tale to his mother, she freaks out that he'd been nearly mugged, and tries to ban him from doing anything in Gotham at all.

"Mom, I can't just stay inside the house all day. I refuse to spend my whole summer on Netflix." He wants to at least go sightseeing.

Her mouth goes into a thin line and her eyes are as fiery as her red hair.

"Fine," she says. "Then you can get a job."

His stomach drops, "What?"

"A job. My floor needs a new intern, and I found just the perfect person."

"No, Mom, you can't," he pleads. "A Wayne Enterprises job? I'll be known as a nepo-baby for life!"

"Well, too bad. You should have thought of that before being mugged."

"Almost mugged, Mom! Almost! Red Robin was there!" When he sees that this point is getting him nowhere, he switches tactics, "Mom, the Waynes are held hostage, like, every other week! Do you really want me in closer proximity to them?"

She lifts her chin and sniffs, "I'll be there to watch out for you. And an intern won't have any reason to be next to a Wayne, anyway."

He groans, "Mom, please. It's my summer vacation!"

"And you're my son. Discussion over. You start in two days."

He groans again, "Do I at least get paid? Or is Brucie Wayne like every other rich white dude out there?"

"Wes, sweetie, you're white--"

"But not rich," he grumbles.

"But yes, you'll be paid. Every position with Wayne Enterprises is paid."

He crosses his arms, "At least there's that, I guess."

His mom walks to him to hug him and kiss his forehead.

"I'll handle the paperwork tomorrow. Don't worry, you'll love it there!"

Well, spoiler alert: he doesn't.

He's basically a go-fer, fetching paper or ink or photos or files and most usually, lunch from across the street or donuts or coffee. Especially coffee. And his mom's coworkers kinda suck because hey, the Wayne's executive PR manager just hired her own kid for a coveted Wayne internship. No one likes the idea of someone being here who doesn't deserve it. So he is really sent on the most stupid, tedious errands possible for an intern.

He called it: he's the resident nepo-baby, beaten only by Brucie Wayne's very own brood of nepo-babies.

Suddenly, just letting that mugger fill him with hot lead doesn't look so bad. Maybe he would have become a ghost! Haunting Danny would have been fun. Or Ember and the others of her nature make it look fun, anyway.

The Fenton thermos part would probably be uncomfortable, though.

"This sucks," Wes mutters to himself, balancing three carrying cartons of Batbucks (Gotham's stupid parody of Starbucks since they have to be special and not like other girls in every aspect possible) coffee with just two arms, staring helplessly at the elevator call button in front of him.

"Need an assist?" calls a familiar voice, though Wes can't place from where.

"Yes, please!" Wes says gratefully, looking up at a face with blue eyes, black hair, and a familiar jawline.

Wait a second.

"Here, I'll get that for you," says the man, who is really more like a teenager, since it's goddamn Timothy Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises at just seventeen years old. "Going up, I assume?" he gives a charming laugh as he presses the up button, the kind one practices to perfection to ace media interviews and entertain the wealthy elite at galas.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Wes says, and takes the time to really study Drake-Wayne's eyes. And sure enough, he can recognize makeup covering up purple eyebags, just like he could on Fenton.

No. Please, Lord, I'll go back to church. Just don't let it be true.

"Yeah, no problem!" Drake-Wayne says, which really just seals the deal. Wes quietly dies inside, and also curses God. "I'm glad to be of service! Interns doing coffee runs really are doing God's work. And there's no need to call me sir. Tim will do just fine."

"Right... Tim," Wes says uncertainly. He kind of wants the elevator doors to open up and reveal a pitch black hole to drop into, but when the bell rings and the doors slide open, it's just the same ol' regular elevator it's always been. Damn.

So. The boss of this whole entire company is Red Robin. Makes sense, seems legit. He figured out that Plasmius was the mayor of Amity, too, didn't he? So why shouldn't all billionaires be playing dress up and fight crime or be the crime? What's stopping them all, really, when wealth is a superpower all on its own?

Wait, fuck. So. If Tim started out as a Robin when he was twelve-ish. And apparently billionaires are playing dress up. Then doesn't that mean...?

Oh, God. Couldn't he go one season without figuring out some superpowered person's secret identity? Is that too much to ask?

And of course, after figuring Tim and goddamn Brucie Wayne out, it's not so hard to see the correlations between the introduction of every other Wayne brat to the debut of each Robin.

He shakily steps into the elevator, "And how do you normally take your coffee?"

"With the maximum amount of espresso the barista can legally give me," is Tim's immediate answer.

Just like Danny.

And even worse, Tim steps into the elevator after him.

"What floor?" he asks, and Wes feels stupid. Obviously he was going to come in: why offer help at all if he wasn't going to push the floor button for Wes?"

"Uh, 73," Wes says.

Tim nods and presses the according number, and then takes one of the cartons from Wes as the doors closed.

Hopefully, any nerves that Wes is showing can be played off as the nerves an intern would get when they somehow get stuck with the Actual Big Boss™ , and then said Boss™ tries to take the shit they're carrying.

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Wes says nervously. "I can carry them all, really!"

"Don't be silly," the literal co-CEO of his workplace says, as if Wes is in some fucked up Wattpad fic. "Again, where would any of us be without the ones who bring us coffee?"

"In bed?" Wes offers nervously. "Sleeping?"

Tim laughs, but his smile looks more like a smirk, "I guess you're right!"

"But seriously, I can carry the coffee. It's my job. And it'll look weird to everyone if they see the CEO helping me do my job."

"It's no trouble!" Tim insists, and then emphasizes his point by stealing the second carton in Wes's hands. "See? And my employees will be glad to see that I value every employee and am always willing to help out!"

Haha yeah, thought Wes. Too bad they'll never know just how much you help out, right?

Finally, the elevator dings, and Wes is released from one prison to another.

Thanks to the normal chaos of working at Wayne Enterprises, no one immediately notices that the co-CEO is carrying the bulk of the load. Instead, they all hone in on the scent of coffee, and they lunge.

"Thanks, Weston!" the few who are clear-minded enough to remember manners manage to say, even as most of them take their orders from a black haired wunderkind instead of a redheaded conspiracy theorist with the curse of Cassandra.

"Of course," Wes says nervously, and then finally some recognition starts sparking in the coffee-hungry eyes of exhausted PR employees who are always trying to handle some wacky Wayne hijinks.

"You're Weston," says his mom's assistant, Jade, pointing at Wes, and then slowly pointing to Tim, "and you're.... Oh, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Here, let me get that for you!" She yanks the empty cartons out of Tim's hands and shoved them into Wes's. Luckily, his carrying carton had been emptied, too, so he doesn’t get coffee spilled all over him and the floor.  "Here, Weston, go dispose of these! Why were you making Mr. Drake-Wayne carry them? It's your job to get coffee, not our CEO's! He has better things to do. In fact, he probably needs to speak to Ms. Rolland."

Ms. Rolland as in his mother, who went back to her maiden name after the divorce.

"Now hold on," says Tim, his eyes alight with anger. "I offered to help Weston out, and I have no need to speak with Penny. I was just helping out one of my employees."

"Oh," says Jade, taking a step back. "Of- of course, sir! Weston, here, I'll take these cartons back. And sir, it's very kind of you to help out."

"I try," Tim says dryly. Wes notices he doesn't tell Jade to not call him sir. "You should probably get back to work."

"Of course, sir." And with the cartons in her hands, she scurries off in the direction of his mom's office, where she'll probably complain about how her kid made Jade look like a fool in front of the Actual Big Boss™.

"Uh, thanks," he tells Tim. "But you really didn't have to help me. It is my job, after all." Unwilling or not.

"It's no problem!" Tim repeats, and Wes wants to bang his head into a wall. "And hey, next time you do a coffee run, forget the others and just grab my order." His words are accompanied by a wink, and Wes is pretty sure it's supposed to be weird rich people humor, so he laughs, and pretends his heart isn’t beating into his ears.

"As much espresso as possible," he plays along, and Tim grins, pressing the call button for the elevator. It hasn't been summoned to another floor, so it opens right back up.

"Have a good day, Weston."

"It's just Wes, really," he corrects, and Tim smiles again.

"Wes," he says, and the elevator doors slide shut.

Cool cool cool. So now he just has to survive two months in Gotham while knowing the entire Batclan’s secret identities.

Cool cool cool cool cool cool....

[thornsnvultures]

as you wish ♡

best friend!eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader

you're stressed and eddie's more than willing to help you feel better.

cw: 1.3k, smut, pregnancy/breeding mention, breeding kink but no one's getting knocked up here, period/ovulation mention, p in v sex, super self indulgent smut because this is where I'm at in my life lol

18+ only

"Hey, you okay?"

Eddie rubs his hand across your back. You're rolling a character for a new campaign he's running and all your rolls so far have been trash. It's not the only reason why you're having a bad day but it's not not making it worse.

"You seem kinda, and please don't get mad when I say this, but you seem kinda irritable."

You huff and slap your pencil down on the kitchen table. This can wait. You feel like you're crawling out of your skin and Eddie's patient hand making circles on your back isn't helping. 

"I'm ovulating."

Eddie's already big brown eyes grow even wider.

"Uh. What does that mean? Are you on your period? Are you,  do you need to see someone? Are you in pain?"

You wave your hand, dismissing his increasingly frantic concerns. He's such a good friend. A great friend who doesn't balk at period talk, just wants to take care of you, make sure you're okay.

"No, this happens before my period,"  you sigh and look at Eddie. He looks so unsure. He wants to help and doesn't know what in the world is going on.

You're a little out of your mind today it seems because the things you say next to your best friend can't be taken back.

"It means I want you to bend me over this table and stuff me full of your come," Eddie inhales sharply and you lean into his space.

Fuck it.

"My body is screaming at me to beg you to pump load after load of come deep inside me until I'm round with your baby. My pussy has been throbbing all day and all I can think about it pulling your cock out and riding you until I'm leaking your come all over the floor. Do you understand? I'm going haywire because of a biological need to get bred. So I'm sorry if I'm a little irritable. I need to come so bad, Eddie, but I know it won't be enough if I do it on my own and, god, I'm sorry but I want you so bad right now it hurts."

You're squirming in your seat almost to prove your point. Eddie sees it, sees you cover your face in shame, sees you hunch over in regret even as your thighs clench under your skirt.

"Jesus."

"I know."

His hand is still on your back, so you know he doesn't hate you for that little outburst. God, what is wrong with you?

"Does this happen every month?"

"Pretty much."

Eddie pulls your hands away from your heated face. He's smiling. Like it's funny. Like you didn't just go on a hysterical rampage about how you want him to breed you. Fuck, did you really say that out loud?

"Does the baby part have to happen?"

"What? Oh god no, I'm on birth control."

"Rad."

"Totally."

"So, how do you want to do this?"

Eddie's still holding your hands. The rings on his fingers feel cool on your warm skin and you don't know what he's taking about.

"I guess I'll leave," you try to pull away from his grip. "I'm sorry for dumping all that on you."

"Whoa, hey," Eddie tugs you back down when you try to stand and awkwardly shuffle away. He lets go of one hand to cup your cheek, tipping your face up to look at him again. "I asked you a question. How do you want to do this?"

"Eddie, you can't be serious. I'm sorry I went a little crazy there but-"

"Do you want me to fuck you? Want me to stuff your little pussy full until you can't take any more?"

Your usually goofy friend was using his DM voice on you, all low and serious. The voice he uses to create tension from behind his screen that always makes your toes curl.

"Yes. Please."

His thumb caresses your cheek as he moves in closer. He smells so good. A mix of his cologne, soap and something so distinctly Eddie.

Your stomach tightens and you feel a rush when his lips capture yours. It's slow, cautious at first and a little unsure, but you feel safe here in his hands. Eddie's your best friend. He won't hurt you. You trust him to make you feel good and when he asks you for a third time, "How do you want to do this?" You tell him, "Here. Now. Need you inside me."

Eddie quickly fumbles with his belt, pulling it open and off before dragging the zipper down on his jeans. Your hand sneaks inside and he groans, panting in your mouth when you find him and grip him tight.

His hands are on your hips then, tugging you into his lap as you pull him free from his boxers. Your hands are frantic. His are pushing your shirt up and over your bra, tugging the cups down so he can get at your tits. They spill over and he sucks a nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily on the sensitive bud.

"Fuck, Eddie!"

"Right, that's the plan."

You'd tell him to fuck off for being a smart ass but he's right. You need him inside you instead of holding him with a tight grip while he leaks all over your hand like you're currently doing.

You pull the gusset of your thong to one side and line Eddie up with your cunt. As soon as he feels your wet heat on his tip he's cursing into the swell of your breast, nipping and biting at your tender flesh.

"Use me, honey. Ride my cock. Want you to feel good. Wanna stuff you full of my come," Eddie rambles as he squeezes your tits. His hands and mouth feel so fucking good you swear you could come from that alone. Some other time maybe.

Right now you're slowly sinking down on his length. He's girthy and you have to focus and breathe, make yourself relax so you can take him. Because fuck you're determined to take all of him.

"So fucking tight, honey. Pussy's so wet for me. Be good for me and take it."

Eddie's hand is on your hip, gripping you tight and helping to guide you down. You cry out when he moves, tilting his hips to get a better angle.

"Oh fuck. Right there, huh? That feel good?"

You nod your head. You can't speak, all your thoughts zeroed in on finally bottoming out on his thick cock.

"Shit, honey, feel so fucking good. Ride me, baby. I've got you."

You grab Eddie's shoulders tight and bounce. It doesn't take long for your thighs to scream from exertion but you can't stop, you won't stop. The sound your cunt makes, your soaked thighs slapping against his is enough to push you to the edge, but you need more to push you over. He fills you and consumes you. Every ridge, every vein. You can feel all of it as you hold on to him for dear life.

Your tits are in his face, practically smothering him but Eddie doesn't seem to care one bit. His tongue and teeth worship your devour you like you're his last meal.

"Eddie, please."

"Please what?"

"Need to, need you to-"

"Need me to breed you? Fill this tight little cunt up?"

"Yes, fuck!"

"Take it then."

Eddie holds your hips still and you scream when he starts pistoning into you. He hits your walls just right and you gush around his thick length, soaking his boxers and thighs.

"Fuck, that's it, honey," Eddie wraps his arms around you waist and pulls you down, slumped on his chest while he uses and abuses your cunt. "Gonna come, gonna fill your pretty little cunt up. Everyone will know you're mine," he growls in your ear, "my pussy, all mine."

Eddie slams his hips a few more times before they stutter and grind into you, pushing into you to the root. You can feel him unload deep in your cunt. Hot splashes of come, as well as Eddie's pelvis griding against your clit, push you over the edge one more time and you scream into his sweaty neck.

You're both panting and sated, not caring for now that Eddie's come is slowly dripping from your stretched out cunt.

[lafiametta]

Im so glad im not the only one still stuck on anora x igor😭😭 love them sm

As for a 1 word prompt i think hug could result in something sweet or even unexpected, but i could also leave a word-vomit here and maybe you’ll feel inspired by one of them:)) so let me just

ride, dinner, dance, call, sweatpants, beach, couch, deli

Haha, thank you for all the prompts! I’m going with the first one, but I may come back to some of the others because they’re so good! :)

She wakes a little before two and shuffles into the kitchen. It’s quiet, so Vera must be out somewhere. There’s a quarter of the Honey Nut Cheerios left, which she eats while absently scrolling through TikTok. None of it’s particularly interesting, so she flips over to her texts. There’s one from Vera (“went 2 nico’s. get more tp at the store thx”) and a string of messages from Lulu, detailing some kind of crazy shit that went down last night involving two of their new dancers, a stolen g-string, hair-pulling, and a broken bottle of Cristal.

The last one, sent an hour ago from a contact she put into her phone as Hunchback Weirdo, is in all-caps, as if he didn’t fully trust himself with punctuation.

COME BY AT 3 OK?

She holds down the text and sends a thumbs-up reaction. He’s been coming by her house every Sunday at three for the last month and a half and he doesn’t really need to text each time, but she knows he likes to check with her to make sure it’s alright.

They don’t ever stay at the house that long—normally she just grabs her jacket and meets him on the porch, then they head in the direction of the beach. It’s only a few blocks to the boardwalk, a wide expanse that somehow feels just big enough for the two of them to walk side-by-side. It was awkward at first—neither of them really knew what to say after everything that had happened in his grandmother’s car—but after a while the quiet grew easier, and they learned how to talk in ways that seemed safe. He talks about his grandmother a lot, and about growing up in Russia. Ani’s childhood stories are far less heart-warming, so she avoids them, instead detailing all the things Vera—or Vera’s shitty boyfriend—had done to piss her off that week, along with anything fun or outrageous that had happened at work. She’s got a job at a new club now, secured through a glowing reference from Jimmy, and like any place full of drunk men and insecure women, there’s always drama.

They don’t ever talk about what happened in the car.

She thinks about it sometimes, the memory pulling deep and hard in her chest, a strange mixture of shame and sadness and gratitude that she doesn’t know where to put. Being around him makes it a little easier, which is why when he comes by she always goes with him, despite how fucking strange the whole thing really is.

A minute after three there’s a knock at the door—Ani’s already in her jacket, fingers flipping back the deadbolt.

It’s warmer out today, a tiny promise of spring, but the wind is brisk and tugging against her hair and cheeks, and she sinks deeper into the bulk of her jacket. Igor’s only in a black hoodie; she doesn’t ask him if he’s cold.

Along the boardwalk, there are older men in rumpled suits and women in headscarves sitting together on benches. A kid runs along the beach, trying to get a kite to lift into the air. For a moment, they’re walking close enough that their fingers brush together and Ani quickly stuffs her hands into her pockets, doing her best to ignore the unsteady feeling in her stomach.

By the time they get down to Coney Island the feeling has subsided enough that she lets him buy her a pretzel, which she eats piece by piece against the metal railing overlooking the beach while he smokes.

She’s already told him about Nico, how he had clogged their toilet two days ago and then fucked everything up more by continuing to flush, the whole thing overflowing and ruining their bathmat.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” she mutters. “I can’t believe my sister lets him fuck her.”

She laughs a little, although it’s mostly a sigh, and then lets the silence settle around them as they stare out at the mostly empty beach. He hasn’t finished the cigarette yet, so she reaches out for a quick drag.

“So how’s Garnik doing?” she asks as she hands it back, not realizing until she asked that part of her was actually curious. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t mentioned Vanya or the Zakharovs at all, but it seemed a little weird he never said anything about the two Armenians, who he probably still saw all the time.

“Garnik?”

“Yeah, Garnik. His face still look like a fuckin’ raccoon?”

Igor shrugs, then drops the cigarette butt to the ground and stomps it out with the toe of his sneaker. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know how your boss’s face looks?”

There’s a tiny shake of his head, and he turns to lean back against the railing. “I don’t work for him. For any of them.”

The words cut through her more strongly than the wind, leaving only questions in their wake.

“Since when?” she asks.

He turns his face to finally look at her, those blue eyes trained on hers in a way that always felt like she was something worth looking at. She had hated it at first—the intensity behind it—but now she’s wondering what it was really trying to convey.

“Since we come back from Vegas.”

For a moment she’s uncharacteristically speechless. He hadn’t worked for them since Vegas? He had quit his job—for what? For her? No, that made no sense. What was she to him? She had been a problem he had been sent to fix, a rock in someone else’s shoe, and then she had fucked him and cried all over him and run away. And now? She still has no fucking clue what they are. But she had thought she had been left alone to handle all of it, and he’s telling her that she’s not alone, that he walked away to meet her on the other side. And he’s here, with her, knocking on her front door every Sunday, trading stupid stories with her as they follow the path along the beach, looking after her in a way she hadn’t really understood until this moment.

He’s standing here, next to her, the March wind whipping against the fabric of his hoodie.

Ani steps closer until she’s right in front of him, her arms reaching out to tightly curl around his back. She remembers the feel of him, the warmth, and leans in, her cheek pressing up against the top of his shoulder. There’s a moment of hesitation—she hopes it’s only out of surprise—and then his arms wrap solidly around her, drawing her into the hug.

“Hi,” he says, the sound soft, like laughter.

“Hey,” she says, like she’s saying it for the first time.

[send me a one-word Anora x Igor prompt]

[livwritesstuff]

dedicated to my absolute storm of a day today

Today was one of those days where nothing stopped.

For the first time ever, all three of Steve and Eddie’s daughters are in different schools - Moe a freshman in high school, Robbie a sixth-grader at the middle school, and Hazel still at the elementary school in fourth grade, so their morning is non-stop from when Moe has to be up if she’s gonna get out the door in time to make the school bus (which is 5:30, meaning that Steve and Ed need to be up at 5:30 to make sure that she’s up at 5:30) all the way to when Hazel gets on her own bus at 7:45.

Most of the time, Hazel’s bus pulling away leads to a brief moment of respite for Steve and Eddie before their own days have to continue, just enough time for them to take a breather and spend a second together just the two of them and maybe make out against the kitchen counter like they’re twenty-six and had just started dating instead of nearly fifty and married for over a decade.

That day, though, Steve has a client for a therapy session at 8am (the first for a day of back-to-back-to-back sessions), so he’s out the door even before Robbie is on her bus, and then Eddie has to drive into Boston for a meeting about his book that he’s trying to get made into a movie (an animation of some kind, he’s thinking, stop-motion ideally like Coraline or Nightmare Before Christmas), and while he’s on his way back home, he gets a call from the elementary school that Hazel is sick and needs to be picked up (goddamn flu season), and by the time he picks her up and brings her home, Moe is out of school needing a ride to her club basketball practice, and Steve’s work day wraps up just in time to get Robbie to her violin lesson (he picks Moe up from basketball on their way back), and even once they’re all home again, it’s still a whirlwind of getting dinner on the table while making sure all the girls get their homework done and instruments practiced, and keeping an eye on Hazel who is either “sick” or “not sick” when it serves her to be so (she’s sick when homework time begins, not so sick anymore when the baskets of Halloween candy are brought out of their hiding spot as a treat after dinner), before they’re getting Hazel and Robbie corralled upstairs for bedtime and making sure Moe is making her own progress in that regard, and then once the girls are all tucked soundly into bed for the night, Steve and Eddie still have to clean up the kitchen and prep for the next day’s mayhem and get themselves ready for bed, and in the end, it’s not until Eddie is sliding into bed beside Steve that they’re to exchange anything more than a glance.

“Thought about you all day today, Stevie,” Eddie says with a grin as he tugs him in close.

Steve hums his agreement, shuffling until he’s sitting in the space between Eddie’s legs, his back against his husband’s chest.

“How was the meeting?” he asks him.

“Doesn’t matter,” Ed shakes his head, “Ask me tomorrow. Just hold me.”

“You’re holding me.”

“Shut up.”

Ed wraps his arms around Steve’s middle, slipping a hand underneath his t-shirt to splay over his stomach.

Steve tips his head back against Eddie’s shoulder, relishing in the way Eddie is holding him – his grip just firm enough to feel secure and safe, tight in a covetous way, a way that says that Steve is his.

Steve likes being Eddie’s. Something about it has his heart swooping even all these years later.

The love between him and Eddie is the old kind of love now. Not old as in old news, but old as in worn-in and reliable and familiar and comfortable. It’s the kind of love he’d been aching for when he was younger, the kind of love that has him knowing exactly why it didn’t work out with all the other people he’d dated before.

“I love you so damn much, Stevie,” Eddie tells him, ”I’m just as obsessed with you today as I was twenty years ago.”

“I know – crazy, right?”

Eddie shakes his head again, “Inevitable. Just wanted to say it before it slipped through the cracks.”

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything more, content to bask in a rare moment of peace and quiet with Eddie – his husband, his person, the love of his life.

Eddie presses a kiss to the side of his neck, blunt nails idling dragging back and forth over Steve’s soft stomach. 

The moment is fleeting, as they tend to be these days, because Hazel calls for them from her bedroom saying that her tummy hurts.

Steve groans and moves to get up, but Eddie tightens his arms around Steve.

“She’ll be fine. Nine is definitely old enough to learn how to puke and rally.”

“Definitely,” Steve agrees as he pulls himself out of Eddie’s hold.

[verdemoun]

So sorry for spamming your inbox 😰😰 but you mentioned the gang kinda infantilizing timewarp Kieran and thinking that he wouldn't know what sex is when in actuality that man FUCKS!!! And especially since I think you've said he has anxiety and autism or atleast autistic traits and it's common for allistics to think that autistic people can't make choices or advocate for themselves does he get a bad bitch moment of telling other gang members to STFU!!! And that he has infact been living in modern times for several years and doesn't need to be coddled through everything. Or am I looking into a single line too hard and I'm actually crazy

I am going to kiss your brain that was a very intentional deliberate line congratulations on picking it up!!!!! Yes that was a very conscious seg-way into the gang tending to infantilize Kieran a little and he will absolutely manipulate it.

Sometimes - sometimes he does appreciate it. Sometimes he needs those borderline childish comforts people wouldn't think to offer an adult. If Lenny is struggling they will offer him a whiskey and a night out at the bar, which if Kieran was already not in a good headspace would be Hell. The fact the gang would sooner bring him his safe snacks and hot chocolate and a plush blanket while he watches cartoons is comforting even if it is coming from a place of not entirely seeing him as an adult. But it gets irritating. Being semi-verbal, even when he expresses said frustration it can get brushed off and it just adds to the irritation . The gang freaking out over room shuffling to make room for a new timewarped person: Kieran he would offer his room knowing it was temporary and is fine sleeping on the couch, hell he'd probably enjoy sleeping on a bedroll in the backyard for a few days/weeks: but they won't even consider asking Kieran for anything.

But most of the time he manipulates it. Hosea never lectures Kieran about a job because poor helpless boy could never survive the real world so he gets to live easy staying at Bessie's house or Annabelle's being absolutely spoiled. All he needs to do is flash his big old sad eyes and the gang will give him cash for whatever he wants. Sometimes it's the latest breyer horse model, sometimes it's alcohol and a few galaxy brownies. No questions, no bills, he's living the millennium dream.

Javier is the first one to see through his pouty playing into the infantilization and is honestly just jealous he can't get away with it himself. Calling Hosea out like 'stop telling me to get a job you never tell Kieran to get a job are you saying my patito is less capable because his brain works different despite being you more than willing not to say anything to protect him from being a whipping boy in the old days???' and Hosea has to walk away he is simultaneously stunned and ashamed. Still doesn't start nagging Kieran to get a job and Kieran playfully whacks Javier for even risking putting the idea in his head. He likes easy street and feels he's bloody earned it after his life experiences.

The number one thing that reminds the gang Kieran is not baby boy is any shooting game. He is first pick in paintball or laser tag or anything similar because the Kieran Duffy 'tendency not to mention how capable I actually am' started long before modern era and he is a terrifyingly good sharp shooter. First time the gang realised he was the last man standing and had taken out everyone in pvp they were almost annoyed why didn't you bring this up in canon era and he brushes it off with a teehee I like horses more. Bordering on being a brat about it sometimes and the gang still don't notice how much they tend to infantilize him. He will abuse the assumption he is incapable of things like it's lumbago, he isn't lazy he just doesn't like being expected to work and for the most part won't go out of the way to correct the infantilized assumption he can't do things by himself.

[adoringhrry]

New Parents

Notes: I wrote this based off of a TikTok my mother sent me lol. Also imagine Harry in like mid-2022!

Dad!harry<3

They say children, when you have them, will become the best things in your life. You endure a few minutes of pain to spend a lifetime of happiness with someone who’s a product of you and your other half. Your life will hold smiles, laughs and wonderful memories together.

They will have you on the floor, giggling like a crazy person. Spending months creating a room for them to stay in, making sure your home is suitable so they wouldn’t ever get hurt. Going to doctor appointments to hear a heartbeat, shaking your partner awake in the middle of the night to feel their first kick.

Heaven.

“It’s your turn, Harry!” She spoke, turning over and pulling the satin covers over her head.

“Fuck off,” Harry moaned, begrudgingly slapping his hands over his tired eyes. “But it’s your kid.”

“Yours too.”

No one prepared the new parents for the all hours of the night screaming. The sleepless nights created delusions of their mother’s cackles whizzing around their minds. How the hell could someone put up with these little demons?

Harry grumbled a curse under his breath, throwing the covers off his body and standing. His eyes were closed, hoping to get some sort of more shut eye before he’d be up for hours.

Walking with their eyes closed while still half asleep had become a talent of theirs, having to do it so many times within the last three months does that to people. The mapping of their home has become second nature to him, even in the pitch black of the night.

He would need a cup of coffee, desperately.

Screaming echoed from their daughter’s room, increasing with every zombified step he took. This was how it was the last few months, except for the first week.

The first week they brought their daughter Presley home was heaven, it was everything they had heard about. She was a quiet and peaceful little squished face baby, not a single ounce of fuss at all.

Like an excerpt of the bible, on the seventh day all hell broke loose. That was when the screaming started. As much as Y/n loved her wonderful husband, Harry got on her nerves. And the same would go for him, but he was a little better at hiding it.

His bare feet made it into the room, turning to the crib to console Presley. He held her like glass, something that could break if you made a simply wrong move. A high pitched scream shot through his ear and right out the other side of his head, a need to cry as well punching him in the heart.

“Okay Princess, daddy’s here. Shhh, you’re okay.” He soothed, rocking his bundle of love in his arms. Swaying to a gentle unheard rhythm, he willed her to fall back to sleep. “I understand you love me, but daddy needs his sleep. Please” His words were breathy, pleading not only with the infant but with whatever god could hear him.

Sadly, Presley’s love for her father overpowered his wishes of sleep. Screams and whines continued to pour from the infant's mouth, seemingly for hours.

It only took a few minutes of the gut wrenching noise for Y/n to clamor out of her bed and join her husband. Standing in just black boxers and a white tee with tousled hair, he still looked good enough to bite. Here’s to another sleepless night, she thought.

“Babe, give me her and let's go get some coffee.” She spoke slowly, reaching for the bundle held with his large arms.

“Coffee?” He asked, sleep evident in his husky voice.

Coffee was a safe haven in their home now. Harry wasn’t proud of it, though. He loved to pride himself on only his English breakfast tea and baby-chinos on the off chance he got coffee. He wasn’t a coffee drinker. Well, he didn’t used to be a coffee drinker.

Y/n hummed and grasped onto her daughter gently. She stepped aside so he could shuffle past, rolling her eyes as he hoisted his under pants up and burped on his way out.

“We need a bath.” She pointed out to the wiggling little monster in her arms. “You need to sleep.”

It had been almost two weeks since she had last had a shower, her own smell couldn’t repulse her anymore. That’s when she just knew it was bad. She probably had vomit in her hair, which itself made her wanna crawl into bed and never leave.

After another moment, Presley stopped screaming. She opened her eyes and peered up at her mother, chubby cheeks giving her a permanent fake-grumpy face. They decided to go join Harry, the thought of liquid gold the only thing present on Y/n’s mind.

The hallways were covered in ultrasound photographs and in every room were some sort of baby item. It had taken a month to babyproof the whole home with the help of Kid Harpoon and Lizzo.

Y/n walked into the kitchen to find her husband at the island counter, eyes still closed.

She walked over to him to offer a hand. Her steps halted when she made it behind his shoulder, peering down at what her husband was doing.

Using the coffee scooper, he was plopping spoon fulls of baby formula into the coffee maker. Holy shit. A smile crept up her face, which turned into a giggle. And giggling turned into a hysterical laughing fit of delusion.

When Harry opened his eyes and seen what was so funny, he himself started laughing. It had to have been the no sleep, but this was the funiest thing in the whole world.

Presley was confused as to what was happening, though. Both of her parents were laughing at seemingly nothing, slowly going mad.

[les-pompiers118]

The road home

9-1-1 ficlet | 2x03 coda | 1.3K words | rated Teen

I'm back with my little asphalt truck full of words to fill in the cracks between episodes, for @911hiatus' Week 4 prompt, "refuge." We were truly robbed (robbed!) of seeing the scene when Buck meets Chris for the first time. So here ya go: the first ever Buckley-Diaz Family Moment.

“So, you made it through your first natural disaster,” Buck says to break the silence in the car. The radio’s off, the road is practically empty by L.A. standards, and the power’s still out on a lot of blocks. Staying quiet just makes the night feel that much eerier.

Eddie huffs. “You say that like there’s going to be a lot more of them.”

Buck steers them smoothly around the curve of an offramp. Okay, maybe now isn’t the best time to suggest that disasters are going to be a regular thing, while they’re on their way to pick up Eddie’s son at his school after a big earthquake. Even though he knows Christopher is safe, Eddie’s not going to be alright until he lays eyes on his kid. Buck gets that.

“I just meant that it was an intense day for someone who’s only been on the job for a few weeks. You okay?”

“Not my first rodeo, Buck. Warzones, remember?”

Eddie’s smiling in the dark beside him, Buck can tell, which means he’s not offended. “Yeah, but earthquakes are a different kind of warzone. The only enemy here was, uh—”

“Gravity?” Eddie finishes for him.

“I was gonna say tectonic plates, but yeah, gravity was definitely working against us today.”

“That elevator, man. Crazy.”

“Pfft, yeah,” Buck agrees.

“How many disasters have you worked, exactly? You’ve only been doing this for, what, a year?”

Buck tilts his head in acknowledgement. “This would be my second. There was that plane crash last winter, the one that went down right off the beach by LAX. Not a natural disaster, obviously, but a major incident.”

“Oh, wow. That must have been something.”

“It was… pretty bad.”

Eddie doesn’t say more, and Buck thinks he’s done with this particular subject, but then he asks tentatively, “What did you do afterwards? I mean, after your shift ended? How did you deal with it?”

Buck shivers, remembering the cold water and the smell of jet fuel that clung to them all on the ride back to the station. He remembers Bobby’s uncharacteristic silence and how his own thoughts kept going back to Abby and that call she took from a passenger on the plane. She was the last person that guy talked to, a faceless voice coming through his phone, and there was nothing she could do to help him.

“I, uh, took a long, hot shower and got myself cleaned up,” Buck answers after a long pause. “And then I went home and watched TV for a few hours, I think. Sitcoms, reality shows, dumb stuff like that. Anything but the fucking news.”

“So you just try to put it out of your head as quickly as possible?” Eddie asks, sounding skeptical.

“And sleep. That helps too.” Buck grins over at him in the light of some oncoming headlights. “Isn’t that what you guys did in an actual warzone, when shit went down?”

Eddie chuckles. “Sort of. It was a little bit harder to take off the uniform and drive away from it all at the end of the day, though. And the sleeping part wasn’t always as easy, depending on where we were.”

“I bet. Hey, we’re almost there,” Buck says, bending closer to his phone to look at the GPS map. “Should I park in the lot?”

“No, just pull up to the front doors. They said they’d be waiting for me right inside.”

Buck has barely put the car in park before Eddie’s out and running towards the school. Leaning across the passenger seat, he watches Eddie’s silhouette against the brightly lit hallway beyond the glass doors, his impatient little shuffle while he waits to be buzzed in. And then he’s through and down on his knees to hug a kid who looks impossibly small next to the teacher standing there.

Buck’s throat suddenly gets tight and he blinks hard. He can almost feel the relief in that hug, the fierce love. God.

Eddie talks with the teacher for a minute, then scoops Christopher up and carries him out. Through the open window of the Jeep, Buck can hear Eddie’s voice, reassuring and cheerful, as they approach.

“Where’s your truck?” Christopher asks as his dad opens the back door and sets him into the booster seat.

“Some bricks fell off the back of the firehouse during the earthquake and broke the windshield,” Eddie explains. “I’ll have someone come fix it tomorrow, but tonight we get a chauffeur. This is Buck. He’s a firefighter, too. Buck, meet Christopher.”

Buck twists around to see into the back seat better. Christopher smiles right back at him under the dome light, all baby teeth and brown curls. Something grips the inside of Buck’s chest, both painful and sweet.

“Nice to meet you, Christopher,” he says. “One-way trip to the Diaz residence, coming right up.”

Chris cranes his neck a little to talk to Buck as Eddie gets him buckled in. “You and my dad work together? At the firehouse?”

“Yup.”

“Is he doing a good job so far?”

Eddie bursts out laughing and wraps one hand around Christopher’s head to plant a kiss on top of it. “Are you asking for my report card, kiddo? I don’t think it’s time for me to get one, just yet. And Buck’s not my captain.”

“He’s doing great,” Buck assures Christopher. “He’s taking to it like a duck to water. Just jumped right into the pond with a big splash and started swimming.”

That earns him a giggle from Christopher and a barely-concealed smile from Eddie.

Buck gets their address and they set off again. Thankfully, they don’t have far to go and none of the streets are blocked off. Christopher tells his dad about his extra-long day at school and what they got to do after the earthquake instead of their usual subjects. It sounds like the teachers pulled out all the stops to make sure the kids weren’t scared while they waited to be picked up—movies, games, and music in the gymnasium.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t come get you sooner,” Eddie says over his shoulder. “There were a lot of calls coming in today.”

“It’s okay, Dad. You were helping people. And I got to make a volcano with the science teacher!”

“See?” Buck says to Eddie across the front seat. “Another natural disaster already.”

“Two in one day. I’m gonna need a few extra sitcoms tonight, I guess.”

Buck glances into the rearview mirror, where he can just see Christopher’s face in the booster seat, and tells Eddie quietly, “I think you have something better than TV to help you put the day behind you.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

Buck can tell he’s smiling again.

It’s almost 9:00 PM when they pull into Eddie’s driveway. Buck expects to reverse right back out again and make his way to Abby’s apartment, but Eddie turns to him after he shuts off the engine.

“I know it’s kind of late, but do you want to come in for a bit? I can make us something to eat after I get Chris to bed. It’s just frozen pizza, but you’d be welcome to it.”

Eddie sounds tentative, Buck thinks, maybe because he’s a little embarrassed about the pizza (which Buck would gladly devour right now), or because they don’t really know each other all that well yet. Until this morning, Buck didn’t even know he had a kid. And now here he is at the end of the same day, parked in front of Eddie’s tiny mission revival house and being offered dinner.

“Come on,” Eddie coaxes. “It’s the least we can do to thank you for the ride.”

“Yeah, come inside,” Christopher chimes in eagerly.

Buck looks out at the house again. This is Eddie’s home and refuge, the center of his life outside the firehouse. He and Christopher are inviting Buck into their little world tonight, if only for frozen pizza. There’s a cricket singing somewhere in the bushes, and the porchlight casts a cozy, golden glow over the lawn, beckoning him.

“All right,” Buck says at last. “I will.”

[c0zmo-writes]

Notes for chapter 6 of Birds of a Feather.

Chapter 6- Calm Before the (Fire) Storm

@possum-quesadilla @raineisinkless @katslitterbox @crawlingcarcass

“his wings were stained a garish blend of orange and indigo. He was the world’s most depressing sunset.”

Orange- anxious, indigo- depressed

“(although, if he was being honest, he really just loved the feeling of Shilo's hands in his hair.)”

Poor guy is so horribly touch starved.

“They’d started watching a new movie every night. Tonight’s film was Little Shop of Horrors.”

Added this in because I love this movie!!!! I will go insane if I can’t shout out my other interests in my work.

“HE IS!!! I love shy, clumsy dudes with glasses,” he swooned.”

I think he’d be pretty fond of Adam if they met.

“Beetlejuice hummed in thought. “I guess I like a gal who’s self sufficient. And funny. And shows me the stuff she writes, even if I can’t read it. And lives in a remote cabin. Oh, and I love when a pretty girl tranquilizes me, ties me up, throws me in her car, and kidnaps me. I swear, that’s the hottest shit. Wouldn’t you agree, Shi?” He smirked. Shilo rolled her eyes.”

The story of how they met isn’t the cutest depending on how it’s told.

“Beetlejuice had taken a liking to fake flirting with Shilo. She loved to brush it off and scoff, but deep down… She didn’t hate it.”

…!

“Beetlejuice, what did I say about smelling me? It’s creepy.”

This is a semi regular occurrence.

“Experimentally, she dragged a hand up and down the feathers on his back... Immediately, he leapt up, the feathers on his back and wings blossoming into shades of light pink and yellow.”

Back touching is a very intimate gesture in harpy culture.

“He fought to free himself from the fuzzy fabric, but his feathers fluffed up and sent him further into his frenzy.”

I FUCKING LOVE ALLITERATION. Is this sentence a bit much? Probably. Don’t care though.

“Shilo picking at her hair.”

She’s got some hair pulling problems (just like me !!!)

“I did. When I told you about her, there was a… tiny detail I left out. Real small, don’t even matter that much! Honest!”

…

“If you had asked a seventeen year old Shilo if, in eight years, she saw herself planning out the murder of her best friend’s psychotic mother, she would’ve asked if you were mentally disturbed. But now, here she was, looming over a whiteboard with a marker in hand, writing the title: “how to kill beej’s crazy fire bird mom”.

Safe to say she’s had a bit of character development in those years.

“They swapped ideas between each other, until they eventually created a list that consisted of: “water?”, “stab !!”, “wait until she’s senile (may not happen within Shilo’s lifetime)”, “feed her to a wild animal”, “iron”, “holy water”, “garlic”. As much as Shilo insisted that garlic was for vampires, Beetlejuice was set on adding it as an option.”

Beetlejuice has already used a few of these options, but it never hurts to try again!

“Even though he was asleep, his head still shuffled until it rested in its favorite spot— right over her heart.”

He loves the sound of her heart beating <3

[bellabeebe]

chapter one - starting point

(trigger warnings: blood, graphic description, swears, death)

Southern Ontario was home to most of the cast members of the infamous 2010 show, Total Drama World Tour. The teenagers had decided to throw a reunion party at a popular venue. It was a large hall, decorated with Canadian heritage, like flags dotted around on the walls. The party was hosted by Heather after she won the third series. Now, Heather wasn't one to host parties, but despite her mean exterior and personality in the show, she had a kind heart. The contestants would finally be reunited after a year apart.

The guests arrived one by one, contented by each other's presence. When stood outside, waiting, Heather spotted a familiar figure - someone that she was glad to see. She left her spot and ran toward him, laughing happily. That someone was Alejandro, her competition from the season prior. He swept her up into his arms and hugged her tight. "I'm so glad you could come." She smiled. The rest of the contestants arrived one by one, too.

The Drama Brothers, Total Drama's resident band, were ecstatic to reunite. No one, though, was more ecstatic than Izzy, the 'crazy girl.' Upon spotting her two best friends, Noah and Eva, she leaped over and gave them a huge bear hug. Eva wasn't mad about physical touch, but she made an exception with Izzy. She then bounced over to Owen, her boyfriend. He, as well as Izzy, loved physical touch and gave her a warm squeeze.

Once all the guests had arrived, the party began. The old friends chatted on and on, laughter and fun filling the room. The only person who was not surrounded by friends was Ezekiel. He barely had any friends, and usually took to being alone. This was probably because he had said something sexist in the first season - his dad told him to say it, and he didn't exactly know any better. Thinking back to that moment, Ezekiel realized that he shouldn't have said that. If he hadn't he would most probably be surrounded by friends. Alas, it was what it was.

Justin sat in a circle with his three best friends, Cody, Harold, and Trent, as they discussed new songs to publish as a band. Since Total Drama Action, he had stopped worrying about his looks as much. His friends were much more important than beauty. As he laughed, he noticed the homeschooled country boy sitting alone in a corner. Ezekiel was clearly sad, his eyes clouded with loneliness. He headed over to him, moving in an awkward bum-shuffle.

Ezekiel's head was buried in his arms by the time Justin reached him. "Hey." Ezekiel jumped. "Hey!" Ezekiel exclaimed in surprise. He hadn't expected anyone to communicate with him tonight, let alone Justin. "You ok? You can come and sit with me and my friends if you'd like." Zeeke leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the group. Harold smiled and waved. The two sat with the group, making regular conversation with Ezekiel. To be honest, Ezekiel thought he was about to cry. Not because he was sad, though: because he finally felt appreciated.  

Alejandro and Heather sat together on one of the couches, snuggled up in a blanket. She was asleep, lying on his shoulder as he and a few others watched a movie on the TV in front of the couch. Heather stirred and murmured in her sleep a few times.

The television, all of a sudden, glitched and the news flicked on. The newsman looked visibly distressed and disturbed, stray hairs sticking up off his head and eyebags sagging. It was an emergency broadcast. This hadn't happened much before.

"This is an emergency broadcast announcing the outbreak of an apocalypse. Labs all around Canada can not explain the sudden surge of these creatures - please stay inside your homes and only leave if urgent. Even then, stay protected, stay safe. May God bless you all. The zombie apocalypse has begun."

Alejandro urgently nudged Heather awake, calling the others over to the television. Some watched in horror, some started to cry. Some were in denial, some panicked. "WHAT WILL WE DO?" Sierra shrieked, hugging Cody, much to his annoyance.

"Shit, shit, shit.." Gwen paced around the room, biting her nails.

Bridgette's bottom lip wobbled and she burst out into childish tears. Geoff hurried to hold her, trying his hardest to comfort her. Ezekiel sat blankly in front of the news broadcaster, taking in every detail of what he was saying. This infection was spreading at an unnatural rate, due to the zombies' unnatural speed. His parents had taught him to always be prepared for something like this. He knew how to block doors. That was only his first step.

Moving quickly, he darted to the door a blocked the door handle with a chair. Looking out the window, he saw somebody outside. They were pale and bloody, with grotesque scars and blotches on the skin. Their eyes were that of a blind person's - light blue and glossy. The zombie twisted their head and spotted Ezekiel sheepishly staring at them. They let out a terrible screech and started banging on the door. "Oh God." He murmured under his breath, finding more objects to block the door with. A table, more chairs, wood planks. He sped back through the hall to where the teens were gathered.

"What is that noise?" Courtney gasped, going to investigate. Ezekiel grabbed her arm as she was about to move and shook his head solemnly. Courtney's eyes narrowed, and she sharply drew her arm from his hand. "Don't-" He shouted alertedly.

"What? Why-" Courtney was confused.

"They're here. Just please don't go." He pleaded, fear in his eyes. Courtney nodded and joined the rest of the group. Katie and Sadie clung onto each other, shivering and shaking more with each bang and crash on the door. Lindsay huddled into a blanket on the couch, Tyler comforting her. He held her, softly stroking her hair. Courtney saw how scared everybody was, and whistled with her hands.

"Right, we can't worry right now. We need weapons and protection. Heather, you and your family rent this hall every few months, right? Is there anywhere we can find an emergency gun or something like that?" Courtney exclaimed, passing her gaze to Heather. She nodded, yet said she forgot where it was. "Great.. that's another thing we need to do - find it. Until then, block all the windows and doors. It can be with planks, tables, chairs-"

"I saw a toolbox near the door - maybe we can use the nails and hammer inside to barricade the doors," Ezekiel suggested. Courtney smiled, nodding. For the next half hour, the teens got to work. The toolbox's contents were limited, but they made the most of what was there. The hall was flooded with the noise of dedication and determination. It was hard to hear yourself think with all the hammering. 

A sharp yell could be heard from Heather - tears were brimming in her eyes. "What's wrong?" Alejandro asked, anxiously standing at her side. He looked down. Blood covered her finger, one of the nails sticking out of it. Heather winced when he touched it. "Is there a medical room here anywhere?" Alejandro questioned softly. Heather nodded, both of them standing up and moving to her guidance.

After the group had done the best they could, half decided to keep a lookout. No weapons had been found yet, and the emergency gun had not been located yet. If the zombies broke in, there was no protection. The risk was huge.

Everything was quiet and still until the dreaded happened. A lifeless being came into sight outside, looking directly through the window. It grinned, showing sharp yellow teeth, and lunged toward the door. It banged and crashed against it, the blockage only delaying its entrance by a few minutes. Geoff jumped back from the door in astonishment - it was surprisingly strong.

"Hide!!" Owen shouted, ducking behind the couch. Izzy dove behind too, followed by Noah. Eva stood protectively in front, her stance readied. The rest of the teens found rooms with lockable doors and hid in round corners or under blankets.

Disturbing guzzling noises sounded from behind the front door, sobbing too. Bridgette clasped her hand over her mouth, desperate to stay quiet. Lindsay clung onto Tyler, terrified. Her tears stung her eyes.

In a matter of seconds, the zombie had kicked down the door and was now on the hunt. It charged through the hall, screaming unnaturally. It headed toward Eva, hands outstretched. Eva's eyes widened, and she took action, kicking it as it came near. Izzy watched in awe behind the couch. It writhed around on the floor, Eva leaping behind the couch with her friends. Now, everybody was hidden.

It walked toward a table, where Beth was hidden underneath. It had seen her. Beth could not stand up for herself, or fight. She was a weakling. The creature lunged toward her, teeth chomping. Beth screamed, the zombie tearing at her flesh. Blood oozed from her fresh wounds. 

Lindsay started to sob and was forced to watch as her best friend was torn to shreds. Tyler tried to block her gaze, but she still managed to see. She hugged him painfully, struggling to breathe. He cupped his hand onto her mouth securely. She couldn't make a sound.

Beth cried and yelled, her mouth flooding with blood. She started to choke on it as the zombie ate through her skin. Beth breathed one final breath and died there, on the same floor she had danced on a couple of hours ago.

The zombie stood up, its eyes flickering around the room. They landed on Gwen, her head sticking out from the blanket she was hidden under. It showed a grizzly smile, teeth coated with blood and saliva. Running toward her like an angry bull, Gwen screeched. Trent gasped.

Before the disgusting creature could take a bite of her flesh, a gunshot sounded. It was loud and shocking. Everybody stood up. Heather held the emergency gun in her hand, pressing the trigger down. Satisfaction rushed through her blood.

"Stay away, motherfucker."

The zombie lay limp on the ground, mouth agape and eyes blank. Heather spun the gun round in her hand and blew on the bullet hole. Gwen shivered in her spot. Trent sat with her, gently hugging her.

Everyone's gaze turned to Beth. Next to her, Lindsay sobbed and shook, Tyler holding her back. "No... Beth!" Lindsay's voice wobbled.

Heather helped her to stand up, telling her that it would be okay.

It was not okay.

It never would be okay without her best friend by her side.

[naoyaslut]

pairings: naoya zenin x femreader x toji fushiguro

warnings: n/a

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 |10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

Over the next month, the big snowstorm that Lianne had mentioned had begun to hover over the Zenin estate.  Luckily the proper precautions were taken, there was enough food and supplies throughout to outlast the big storm. 

If you had an issue with being trapped in your room due to Naoya’s say so, now you were becoming stir crazy.  Weeks ago, Naoya had informed you that Yasu had been retrieved from the dungeons. You were desperate to see how he was doing with your own two eyes, but Naoya wouldn’t allow it. 

“He’s not in a state you’d want to see him in, give him some time to recover and I swear it, I’ll let you visit him,” 

You frowned at the thought of Naoya’s words.  He had said that weeks ago... and now.  You brushed your hands over the front of your dress as if it would cause the small protrusion to go away.  It made you uneasy, wearing the gowns that Naoya had made for you, the snug fabric showed a very small bump from your pregnant belly.  

Last night when you went to bed you noticed nothing. This morning when you had awoken, the small bump had just… suddenly appeared.  

But now, Yasu was up and moving. Naoya was supposed to take you to see him today and you were becoming impatient. It was well into the afternoon and Naoya hadn’t returned from his meeting with Toji and his father. 

You paced back and forth in your room impatiently, glancing over your shoulder every thirty seconds. Your nerves were getting the best of you. You were both excited and afraid to see Yasu again. 

You were unsure of how he would take the news of how things had unfolded. Your village being destroyed, your father perishing, … your marriage to a Zenin. Things had happened so quickly, and Yasu undoubtedly was in the dark for all of it. 

“Lady Zenin, you have been shuffling around back and forth your room for the last hour... whatever is the matter?” Lianne sat in a chair near the fireplace, her fingers that were busy knitting a blanket coming to a complete stop.  

Hesitantly you offered Lianne a glance and an even shorter smile, just so she wouldn’t inquire any further. 

“I am just eager for Naoya to return… that’s all,” This was part of the truth. He had been away all day and there was no telling what he had been discussing with his father and the others.  

Lianne rested the blanket in her lap and smiled. “The storms are beginning to pass… perhaps when some of the snow melts, we can tour some of the shops in town-” 

Neither you nor Lianne had heard the doors of the room swing open and Naoya’s voice filling the hanging silence and startling both of you, with him interjecting at Lianne’s suggestion. 

“What on earth would give you the notion of parading my pregnant wife around in town while pregnant, as if she’d be safe?” 

Lianne tucked the blanket in her lap against her legs and stood bending at the waist to greet Naoya. She apologized immediately after. 

“Forgive me, Lord Zenin, I was merely suggesting an outing since Lady Zenin has been stuck inside for so long…” 

Naoya click ed his tongue in annoyance as he stalked across the room, his eyes widening marginally as he paused in front of you as if he were noticing the rounded protrusion at the front of your belly. He appeared to be stuck in place, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Leave us,” Naoya cut into Lianne’s unfinished apology abruptly and she quickly got up from her seat to shuffle over to the exit of the room. “Close the door behind you,” 

“Yes, my lord,” Lianne’s words were mumbled before she closed the doors after her leave, leaving you in the room with your husband, who seemed fascinated at what his eyes had homed in on, your belly. 

You stood in silence, a bit of nervousness falling over you as you watched Naoya creep even closer to your location. Not once had his eyes left your abdomen to look at you. 

“Naoya?” You spoke tentatively, exhaling a shaky breath when both of his hands crowded around your stomach. His hands were large and the feel beneath them warm as they covered your belly face in awe. 

“You’re beginning to show already… You must be further along than the doctor predicted,” Naoya’s grey eyes met with yours briefly before he dropped to one knee like had done once before. Eagerly, he pressed his ear against your tummy, one of his hands still cradling the small bump of your pregnant belly. 

You weren’t exactly sure when you fell pregnant, but Naoya may have been right, perhaps you were further along than the two of you initially thought. 

“It just… kind of appeared overnight,” your breath caught in your throat once more when Naoya lovingly pressed a kiss to the fabric of your dress, his gray eyes once more meeting with your own. 

He didn’t stay kneeling for long, rising to stand with one of his large hands interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“I will protect you and our child with my life, I promise you that,” He brought the back of your hand to his mouth lips skimming along its skin lightly before his lips curved into a faint but seemingly genuine smile. “I am eager for our son to arrive,” 

Your face grew crimson in embarrassment from his actions. Ones that seemed to come along so naturally and were the stark contrast to his usual demeanor. He was stern with you at times, but this kind of talk and behavior from him… filled your heart with butterflies. But you were also afraid of what else was to come. What if you weren’t pregnant with his son, but a daughter? Naoya seemed so completely sure that the child would be male, what would be the consequences if it were not? 

“I am eager as well…” your voice began to while trying to imagine what it would be like to have a family of your own. 

A light rapping sounded at the heavy wooden doors before Toji’s monotone voice reverberated a moment later. 

“The L/N clan member… Lady Zenin’s acquaintance is up and moving about, should she still wish to speak with him,” 

Toji offered nothing more and after that lonely sentence, you could hear his footsteps beginning to recede down the hall.  

You could tell by Naoya’s body language that it was the last thing he wanted to hear, he had become rigid at the spine and his jaw taut to prevent any obscenities from flying out of his mouth. 

“Come, you wanted to talk with him at some point, right?” 

------ 

Quite the surprise to you Naoya escorted you into a study on the other side of the estate where Yasu stood stoic, his face unreadable upon you entering the room behind Naoya. But his expression softened once he saw your face but then the uncertainty was back once he saw that you were pregnant. 

“Lady... Zenin,” 

Naoya stood near the double doors of the entrance, his back pressed against the doorframe, both of his forearms crossed rigidly against his chest. His Eyes were icy as he openly glowered at Yasu when he greeted you. It was as if he were daring him to cross the line. Of course, he wasn’t going to allow you to be in this room, alone with another man. It didn’t matter how friendly the two of you had been before this damned war had begun. 

Instantly he could see your mood improve. You openly wept in front of the man and in turn, he sat ramrod stiff, unsure of how he should console you. Yasu’s gaze flickered toward Naoya briefly before he returned his attention to you standing before him. 

Naoya wasn’t listening to the conversation that you were having with Yasu. He was simply observing how the two of you interacted. He wanted to determine if there was anything more than a simple friendship that had been established before you became his wife. 

Now he was having second thoughts about keeping this one alive. Perhaps he should have died with the others.  

Seeing Yasu seemingly rejuvenated caused you to shed the relief and guilt that had seemed to wedge itself in your chest since you had seen him last. Naoya kept his word and Yasu appeared as if he had been well taken care of. He was freshly shaven, his hair that had long grown down his back cut short and out of his face. He looked like you had remembered him. 

You were extremely grateful and even moved to tears once you got to speak with him. 

“I’m so happy you’re doing well, you look like a brand-new man,” You became silent as the guilt that was so heavy before slowly began to creep its way back into your gut. You knew that this war... none of this was your fault.  

You had nothing to do with it. Both you and Yasu were victims of the circumstances... but for some reason, you couldn’t push aside the guilt that you felt for Yasu being confined here.  

“I’m so sorry Yasu...” Clasping your fingers into the fabric of your gown, you began to wring the material until it started to wrinkle in your grip. 

“Lady L/N-… Zenin,” Yasu corrected himself, offering you a faint smile. “Please, don’t anguish about any of this, it’s nothing that either of us could have changed. It’s not your fault,” Yasu stood up a little straighter, lifting a hand before dropping back to his side.  

If this were under any other circumstance he’d comfort, you. But you were no longer a L/N. You were a Zenin, and he had no right, nor the privilege to touch you at all. 

“I’m grateful for you, what you did to get me out of there. I owe you my life,” 

Startled, you took a step back as Yasu took a knee before you proceeded to lower his head in thanks.  

“From here on out I vow to protect you and your child in the future... alongside the new head of the Zenin Cl-,” 

Naoya clicked his tongue, interrupting Yasu as he began to rise to his feet and waltzed over to step in between you and Yasu.  

“That’s enough for now, Yasu has other business to attend to,” Naoya gritted out, his words curt and harsh. He seemed to be annoyed. 

Yasu spoke of the new head of the Zenin Clan, but you weren’t aware of anyone else taking over. Naobito was the head of the Zenin Clan until he handed it over to either one of his brothers or Naoya or whenever he perished.  

Whatever was going on, even Yasu knew more than what you did, and it was clear that Naoya didn’t want you to hear about any further details. 

Naoya practically dragged you out of the study, his larger hand swallowing yours as he tugged you down the corridor. By now it was near evening, and the help was still hastily running around the estate, preparing everything so that the rest of the storm could be waited out in comfort. 

Naoya stopped outside of the familiar double doors of your shared bedroom still clasping your hand in his as he turned to face you. 

“I hope that little reunion was enough to satisfy you,” Naoya huffed, his thumb smoothing over your hand, ever so dainty in his calloused one. 

You offered him a genuine smile, nodding appreciatively.  

“It was... thank you Naoya-sama,” Even if it was a short time, you still appreciated what he had allowed, and even that Yasu was spared. It lifted some of the guilt off your shoulders of finding him down in that dungeon. 

“Good,” Naoya released your hand and turned his gaze down the corridor to see Toji approaching once more. “I’ll have Lianne prepare a bath for you and bring you something to eat, it appears that there is something more I have to deal with before retiring for the night,” 

Toji offered you a half bow the corner of his lips twitching up into a crooked smirk before he opened his mouth. 

“Good evening, my lady,” 

Naoya scoffed at his greeting, clicking his tongue in agitation.  

“That’s enough, what is it now?” 

Toji stood upright, chuckling lightly under his breath before his tone became rather serious. 

“The girl's execution was postponed because of an oncoming storm, if we leave her down in the dungeons, she’ll freeze to death...” Toji raised a brow in question. “Are you fine with me leaving her down there?” 

You gasped in surprise, the familiar feeling of dread creeping back into your belly. Emi. You had completely forgotten about her... and now both Naoya and Toji were discussing her as if she were nothing more than yesterday's trash. 

“N-naoya...” You uttered his name in disbelief at what Toji was suggesting, knowing that he wouldn’t want you to get involved. “You can’t just leave her down there to die like that,” 

Naoya’s jaw tensed at Toji’s careless words, knowing that it would upset you if you heard anything further about it. He sighed, releasing a heavy breath before pushing the doors open a bit wider. 

“Go inside and wait for Lianne, I’ll return soon,” 

[baasphemous]

Some irl updates;

Been a while since I updated here. Last chatter input I saw I was still kicking around gender and names and whatnot. Been a really wild ride since the last time I updated. Sometimes I don't know why I update here, but it feels like a place without character limits I can babble out my thoughts, and I feel like despite my activity levels some folks use this place to keep tabs on me, so!

Been using the name love/lovell and i do indeed enjoy it. Been working on trying to get funds together to go for another name change because fuck it honestly. I need to do what makes me happy. Which kind of leads me to another update. My relationship has kind of shuffled around? It is a weird situation I guess for monogamous folks, but essentially over the course of a lot of therapy sessions I realized I no longer had romantic feelings for one of my partners (jack), and that those feelings haven't been there for a while now. We plan to still be platonic life partners unless they change their mind (as I am letting them lead the charge on what changes—quite frankly I have loved them like this for a long time so not much on my side changes outside of title and their awareness). My only romantic partner now is andy.

In regards to this, all that I ask is that you don't reach out to bother jack about this because they're trying to cope with the rejection they're feeling. I also hope that you'll reserve judgement on jack, as anyone that knows them knows they're one of the sweetest people you could know (and you'd know how fucked up their crazy mother is and the number it did on them). I'm not sure it's a "break up," but I am also not sure what else to call it. I would say it's amicable, but also I know jack is still struggling with their own feelings on the matter. In addition I feel like it's time I was frank about my own thoughts to others instead of trying to cover it up? I dunno, it feels so complex at the end of the day because you can't just send out a memo informing folks of a relationship change, so I guess people who know where to look will find this and figure it out. Additionally I guess doesn't look too different from the outside, anyway? I dunno.

It sucks, and I've been coping with the grief of it as well as trying to navigate new dynamics. This whole thing sort of unraveled the way it did because I realized the amount of parenting that andy and I have done over the years for jack and how unhealthy that is for us all as a whole. How they kind of used our relationship to prevent exploring themself outside of us, but also using their trauma within our relationship as a way to keep andy and i at an arms distance, even after being with us for a decade. A manufactured safe zone, more or less. And in that way, it was a realization that andy and i needed to pull back because we were enabling jack to play out old relationship dynamics. Also to be honest, we were also being set up in unwinnable situations by jack that made outsiders and friends start safety checking them for fear that we were being abusive, when in reality it was a kind of manipulation that jack was putting on. Again, I don't think it was on purpose, I just think that the amount of unobserved/unprocessed trauma on jack's behalf (and to some degree andy and i's as well) was the cause of it all. Historically Jack's therapists haven't cared for andy and i, and it's not been until jack started seeing the therapist we see that that began to change, and that (for better or worse) jack began to touch all that trauma that's been balled up in their body for many years (probably because my therapist plays hardball and doesn't let folks just skate past their problems). The therapist already knows us so she doesn't take jack at face value when they are making judgements on us based on their feelings, which has been a blessing. There have been times where jack will take a situation and skew it with how they feel in a way that makes andy and I look terrible because they're pretty blind to the support we give and only feel the negatives, which, as you can imagine, is pretty hard to navigate socially when people have the expectation that you're being abusive to someone who seems helpless and wounded. It also makes it hard to navigate with jack because it does hurt my feelings when i give so much love and support only to have jack grip the one perceived slight in all the offerings i give with white knuckles like it is the only thing I give.

It's been a lot. But I am proud of us. It's rough right now because we are going through an adjustment period of jack trying to get a handle on themself, but this is the most effort i have seen them put toward their mental health in a very long time. I am happy to see movement. I am happy to see them finally start working through the shit that's been holding them back, and regardless of whether or not we try to return to a romantic dynamic, I am happy to see them uncover who they are beneath all the trauma that's been dictating their life. I have loved every version of them I have known and I don't plan on changing that even if we aren't romantic partners. And I know that that's a hard thing for them to understand right now, but it doesn't make it any less true. I want what's best for them at the end of the day. I want them to be happy where they are instead of living up to some status quo and basing their entire treatment off the possibility that we will somehow transcend this years in the making dynamic has not been helpful. If I didn't advocate for this I would be irresponsible as a partner to allow them to be trapped in old cycles and continue to endlessly self flagellate.

Weirdly, finally admitting this all has helped me and andy put in the distance I needed to with jack, and it feels as if it's been beneficial as a whole for us. Again it isn't meant meanly, but I have more spoons for other things because they aren't being used to manage jack on the daily. I feel more relief and less like I am playing out my own fucked up dynamics I learned growing up (contributing to the least functional amid the family unit without question or consideration for my own needs). I have found I feel closer with andy? It's strange. But I guess that's the beauty of being polyam: many loves. And those loves don't have to be just romantic ones. I just hope we all come out on the other side closer and healthier, because again I'd hate to maintain something for the sake of having it and not for everyone's benefit.

Anyway, I guess again if you got this far give me a hell yeah brother.

[purplesurveys]

1734

1 - What’s your favourite type of survey to take? A survey with just a mix of random questions is always a safe choice – that's what most of them have been, anyway. Every now and then I like to enjoy categories, and to a lesser degree, themed ones.

2 - What about your least favourite? Do you ever take these anyway if you can’t find anything else? I mean, about-mes are only fun if you're new to surveys but they'll get old quickly. I don't like song shuffles either because I have a million separate playlists on Spotify, so those surveys could never capture my music taste as a whole.

3 - Do you have a favourite survey maker? How long have you been following their blog for? I have a few favorites on Bzoink but I haven't been able to catch up with any of their newer surveys because life.

4 - Do you ever get surveys from somewhere that isn’t Tumblr? What other sites do you like to use for finding surveys? I used to go on Bzoink and lift newer surveys from there over here, but 2022/2023 has kept me very busy that these days I just play catch-up with all the surveys everyone takes here. Until around 2-3 years ago I also used to go on LiveJournal but the survey tag doesn't get updated as much, so I eventually I stopped visiting.

5 - Do you like to take surveys at a particular time of day? I like taking them in the evenings before going to bed. I also reserve most of my survey-taking on weekends, but if a work day has been gross and just need an outlet to vent or whatever I will occasionally squeeze time on a weeknight.

6 - Do you have a favourite location to take surveys - eg. on your bed or in the living room? I'll take them in my room most of the time – it's quiet and peaceful here. Occasionally I'd do them on the couch in the living room or at the dining table, but it's almost always too distracting to finish one.

7 - How often would you say you took surveys? Do you go through phases of taking loads and then stopping for a while? I've been pretty consistent in the 10-11 years I've been taking surveys, tbh! I never really took a 'break' from them – they serve the same purpose as a journal, so I've never felt burned out from surveys.

The most distinct difference, if anything, about my survey-taking habits is how it surged like crazy during the pandemic. Like dude. I didn't have a job, I had just graduated, I was stuck at home – I used to do 5-6 surveys a day, EVERYDAY, for like six months.

8 - Do you like to watch TV or listen to music while you take surveys? If I have something on in the background, it has to be something I can't understand so that my brain doesn't get overstimulated lol. That said, I like having Korean-language vlogs on when taking surveys.

9 - Have you ever taken surveys with another person before? NOOOOOOOO. I prefer to keep IRLs out of my survey-taking hobby.

10 - Do people in real life know you take surveys? If not, would you be embarrassed if someone found out about your blog? Only my sister knows and that's just because I know she doesn't give a shit and I trust her to not judge me for it. I shared the blog with my now-ex at some point but that's also why I changed my user recently.

11 - Do you often have something to eat and drink next to you while you take surveys? Drink, yes. Coffee and surveys go hand-in-hand for me. Food, no. Too much of a distraction.

12 - What kind of chair or surface do you find yourself sitting on the most when you take them? The mini sofa in my room.

13 - Have you ever taken surveys at work before? I used to sneak surveys in during my internship when work would be slow; but otherwise I've never done it since getting formally employed.

14 - Do you prefer doing surveys on a laptop, a phone or another device? Laptop. Dealing with this big a body of text on a phone seems like such a headache.

15 - What kind of surveys would you like to see more of? What about less of? I mean I don't have any expectations when it comes to surveys lol. As long as I don't run out of any to take. Thank you, active survey-makers!!

16 - Have you ever discovered new bands, TV shows or anything through reading other people’s surveys? I'm sure it's happened, but I wouldn't say it's a frequent occurrence.

17 - Do you like to read other people’s answers? Are there some people whose blogs you always check? Sure, I keep up with the little circle I have on here. I'm usually too shy to comment, but I'm generally aware of the ups and downs everyone's been going through and I just kind of like...silently send my support or well wishes or condolences and whatnot.

18 - Have you ever taken a survey while drunk or high? I have taken surveys while drunk but most of the time it ends up with me being too sleepy to take the full thing and just finishing the rest the next morning.

19 - Have you ever attempted the 5,000 question survey? Did you ever finish or did you find yourself getting bored part-way through? I have actually never finished it, no. I should get my ass to take the whole thing at some point.

20 - What first got you into taking surveys? I have no clue, honestly. Maybe it's because the earliest forms of social media like Myspace and LJ would have people do the generic about-me prompts and I guess it just made me curious about more long-form surveys that could possibly exist out there. Eventually I found Bzoink and that's how this whole habit started.

21 - How old were you (roughly) when you first started taking them? I was technically 10 when I first found out about Bzoink, but didn't start keeping a blog up until I was either 13 or 14.

22 - What’s the reason behind you taking surveys? It's a journal that's able to keep a record of my life, simply put.

23 - What’s one thing that would put you off taking or finishing a survey? If the questions get too irritating, or if I'm way too stressed that not even surveys could save the day.

24 - In your opinion, what’s the ideal length for a survey? Would you not bother taking a survey if you thought it was too short or too long? Anywhere between 40 to 60 is fun enough for me, but overall it depends on my mood and how awake I feel.

25 - Do you answer questions using proper spelling and grammar? Yes.

26 - Do you prefer questions that require long answers or are you happy to take yes/no surveys? Ones that demand more substantial answers are fine but don't, like, get all philosophical or existential. That's another thing that would push me away from finishing a survey.

27 - Is there a specific style of survey that you’ve never taken before? Surveys that have you answer with a photo. I don't like those either.

28 - What kind of surveys would you like to see in the future? That could be in terms of style or category or anything, really? Again, don't really have expectations when it comes to surveys haha. I just take whatever I see that I feel are interesting enough.

29 - Have you ever shared your surveys with friends and family on social media? Nope.

30 - Do you find that time goes by quickly or slowly when you take surveys? Quickly.