#shocked that renting with good people goes well

[ragnars-tooth]

Moved! But we are all #sillay and didn't sort internet sooo whoops. I Am beaming dragon thoughts directly into your brain though

[bwabys-scenarios]

🎄Christmas Season with JJK Men🎄

🎁!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!🎁

characters: Gojo, Choso, Nanami

⚠️warning: suggestive in Gojo’s, smut in Choso’s and Nanami’s, you’re pregnant in Gojo’s and Nanami’s⚠️

A/N: If this does well, I’ll do a part 2 with more characters!! I have only watched the first season of the anime, and it was a while ago so please be nice!! I might not know the characters too well, but I’m trying my best to give y’all content!!

NSFW JJK taglist: @iluvies @zeniiis @highbats69

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Gojo

He throws a Secret Santa for his students a few days before Christmas, and as his wife you attend. It’s the first Christmas you’ve been married and your first time meeting his students, so they all(besides Megumi, who attended the wedding and loves you to death) nearly die of shock.

“Are you being paid for this? Like a girlfriend for rent?” Nobara asks, looking you up and down then glancing at her mentor.

“Oh you wound me!”

Gojo holds you in his arms, his hand moving to your tummy. “And I was so excited to introduce you all to my lovely wife and child!”

“CHILD!?”

You smack his head. “Satoru! We were supposed to keep that a secret!”

Nobara and Itadori accept you as his wife when they watch you scold him as if he were a disobedient child.

The Secret Santa was fun, ending with a Christmas movie and cookies. The three teens wished you a marry Christmas before telling their mentor how lucky he was.

“I am pretty lucky, aren’t I?”

He kissed the top of your head, leading you to the car by your hand. “My sweet girl deserves nothing but the best, I know that too well.”

You’re treated to hot coco and a nice warm bath when you get home. Your husband offered to sing you Christmas songs as you bathed, but you (fortunately) declined. He could be a bit clingy during the holidays.

The night ends with soft lovemaking, gentle kisses, and another Christmas movie. He’s so excited to spend your first Christmas married together, and who can blame him!

Choso

He likes to celebrate Christmas with family, so once you’re together he INSISTS on accompanying you to your family’s annual Christmas party. You need to teach him about a few traditions and social cues, but besides that he’s pretty good around your family.

He helps put up decorations, gets along with your little cousins, and he even brings Itadori along with him. Choso is a family man, he really enjoys being surrounded by people who care.

As soon as the two of you are alone, it doesn’t matter if you’re staying over with your parents or not, he’s got his hand in your panties, trying to get you off. You’re his princess, and he heard that you’re supposed to give people presents for Christmas, Choso just wants to make you feel loved and special!

He just loves you cockwarming him while you watch Christmas movies together, keeping his hands on the fat of your hips, gently kneading.

“Mm… merry Christmas, princess… so pretty, fuck…”

It goes from this to him talking to your parents about how happy he is to be invited 30 minutes later. You’re just trying to ignore the feeling of his cum pooling down your legs, thankful you wore baggy sweatpants.

He learns most of his knowledge on Christmas from movies, so he’s determined to kiss you under the mistletoe. He stood under it for nearly an hour, waiting for you to finish talking to your family.

You find him standing there, pouting like an abandoned puppy.

“You’re so silly, Choso. You could have just asked for a kiss.”

The two of you share a soft kiss. He holds back any groping or tongue because his brother is there, but once you’re behind closed doors… RIP your coochie.

Nanami

Unlike the other characters on this list, Nanami much prefers spending a quiet Christmas alone with you. He’ll visit your family before Christmas, but Christmas Day is for you and him alone.

He wakes you up with breakfast in bed. Nanami’s love language is acts of service and words of affirmation. He spends the morning with you in his lap, feeding you breakfast as he tells you just how grateful he is to have you in his life, especially during Christmas.

Honestly, I feel like Nanami may have a bit of seasonal depression, and you’re the reason he’s able to really enjoy the holiday.

Nanami likes to surprise you with your gifts by pretending Santa is the one that brought them. He leaves you in bed at 3 am to arrange your gifts, and you playful pretend to be surprised. You’re both adults and he knows you’re just going along with it, but it’s just some innocent fun that makes him enjoy the season. He’d honestly be a great father, and now you want a family with him even more.

Since you usually make meals for the two of you, he took over the duty of Christmas dinner. Once it’s lunch time, he serves you a plate of your favorite Christmas foods. He spends the entire day thoroughly spoiling you.

The two of you stay in pajamas, lazily snacking and watching Christmas movies while snuggling on the couch. It’s moments like these that make him feel alive and content.

At night, you have sleepy, snuggly sex. He keeps you close to him, thrusting in and out while holding onto your hand. “My darling… I’m so, so happy… this day couldn’t have been better…”

You hope your Christmas present for him, a positive pregnancy test, will make him even more happy when you show him in the morning. Unfortunately, you are much too sleepy and comfortable with his cock nestled inside of you to get it at that moment.

But when you show him in the early morning, he cries tears of joy.

“This is perfect… my sweet angels…”

[entomolog-t]

Silly lil brainrot thats stuck in my head cause everyone's been talking about sizeshifters lately (AND I AM HERE FOR IT)

Just image a character looking for a roommate to help split rent, but their spare room is stupidly small. They put an add out, and get a few people coming by but no one wants that cramped of a bedroom, no matter how cheap they make it-

Until someone does.

They're frankly surprised- they figured at this point it was a lost cause but the person seems weirdly delighted??

Odd.

They are overjoyed at the price too- and character A can understand their joy- given the size of the room they were getting desperate price wise.

A week goes by and everything seems fairly normal. They put a lock on their door, but that seemed pretty standard when you're moving in with a stranger. They're clean, friendly, and pretty fun to be around- just a little forgetful, but who isn't?

By the second week though, Character A is noticing some weirdness. B doesn't seem to eat... They never see them cooking, theres nothing in the fridge, and they don't seem to go out for food either.

When A brings it up B brushes it off, saying they have a minifridge in their room and a lil personal stove. It seems like a good enough excuse until A realizes they've never seem them do dishes. Ever.

By the third week A is convinced theres something weird about B. They have to do some repairs on B's room and when they go in they're just in shock. It looks even smaller than before- B having put bookshelves along almost every wall- but theres no books in the shelves. Its all...

Miniatures?

Fantastically intricate rooms, ranging from something out of a fantasy castle, to influencer mansion type rooms. The longer they look, the weirder it seems though. The rooms are all connected- slides, bridges, ladders... Did they have a pet mouse or something??

Spying one room with a hamster wheel, A is convinced that B has the most spoiled pet in the world. Although... they never mentioned having a pet. Not that it was an issue, but A made it pretty clear that they should tell them if the have a pet in case of a fire or any type of emergency.

And then A sees it- or well, more accurately, doesn't see it.

They ... they dont have a bed??

Sufficiently weirded out but trying their best not to judge, A starts on whatever repairs they have to make, only to realize the project is not going to be a one and done job.

They let B know they'll have to go back into their room later this week and they work out a date and time-B assures them they'll be out of the house and will leave the door unlocked.

The day rolls around and when A goes to start the repairs they grimace. B forgot to leave their door unlocked. They really didn't have time for this. They give B a call, but it goes straight to voicemail.

With a sigh, they grab a credit card. It looked like a cheap lock anyways. Slipping the card between the door and frame they manage to bypass the lock with ease. It really was a cheap thing...

As they go to start the repairs, a little bit of movement catches their eye.

A small lump curled up under the covers of a massively luxurious bed.

Awe! So they did have a mouse!

and it slept under the covers?? Adorable.

It had to be pretty well trained if it didn't have any sort of actual cage? Maybe it was a rat? They could be pretty smart... though it was small.

Curiosity peaked, A pinches the tiny covers in their hand- not without noticing how incredibly soft and high quality they are- pulling the covers back.

A small hand rips the cover back, and they here a muffled

"Five more minutes..."

Eyes wide, they freeze, the world around them feeling frozen in this bizarre moment. A second passes. Then another.

The tiny figure in the bed bolts upright, head turning to A.

Their eyes lock in the most awkward dual realization.

"What are you doing-"

A interrupts them, holding up a tool.

"Repairs were today."

B nods, eyes wide.

"I uh... I forgot about that."

_____________________

I JUST THINK IF I WERE ABLE TO SHIFT SIZES I WOULD BE LIVING THE MOST LUXURIOUS LIFE

"BuT eNtO, DoNt YoU wAnT tO bE bIg?"

Yes obviously, but in this economy?? In the privacy of my own home I'll subsist for month off of 10$ in groceries thank you very much.

[yuugen-benni]

''Not a Father's Day''

When your husband gets a baby fever TAGS: Childe x reader, the word ''sex'' appear only once, mentions of pregnancy (yes I'm breaking my own rule), Modern AU A/N: This is based on ''How I met your mother'' T4 E7, and I'M OBSESSED WITH THE HEADER PLUSHIE AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Guys, when you get married remember, Marriage has three stages:

Stage number 1: Teen era Even after you've known each other for years and years, almost tried to kill each other, and probably seen you both naked, you'll act like teenagers in their prime. You know, teasing, blushing for any reason, sex in the most inopportune places, those things that one day you will remember and feel ashamed of yourself.

Stage number 2 - Finding out The part of the relationship where you realize you knew absolutely nothing about your partner. Actually, "Nothing" is an exaggeration but you get the point. You start to know about small things that are shocking to the point of being considered a secret. Everyone has a secret, right? And the best way to count them is to dump each one. For example, Childe talking about her crazy exes:

''it's raining, look!….Oh, this reminds me so much of a crazy ex of mine who was in front of my apartment one night yelling about how she and I were meant for each other, and her husband was by her side! And the unbelievable was-''

And he kept talking and talking, while your expression was screaming ''There is more ?!'' and your mind thanks God for being normal;

Stage number 3 - Perfect couple

Here is when you became a perfect couple. What is a perfect couple? Two people who have spent so much time together that they can now create an encyclopledia about their partner. Habits, tics, favorite foods, the number of Hot Wheels cars your partner has collected, that sort of thing. Even reading expressions is possible;

The fights end and so do the disagreements

But there is only one subject that can break this: Babies.

''Hey babe, I'm back!" Childe announces his arrival, the door closes behind him as he walks over to you in the kitchen, and peck your lips "I was on my way here when I found out this little sock on our doorstep…?" Childe leans on the counter by his side with a confused expression while he plays with the child's sock, noticing the cute little blue patterns. You, who was kindly decorating cookies for Childe's siblings, looked up to look at the little thing

''It must be from new neighbors, they got the opposite apartment and knocked our door asking for help'' You started, leaving aside the piping bag ''Finally some new people! It's been so long since someone rented an apartment here'' the man commented, approaching the cookies discreetly before wincing at the slap you gave his hand

''They have two kids'' Continuing ''a baby girl and a boy with Teucer's age''

At the mention of his brother, Childe's expression changed, forgetting his red fingers. ''Awesome, we could invite them to dinner this weekend, If that's not a problem'' He gave an idea, but then raised an eyebrow at your dull expression

''They seem like good people…but I-I'm sure they'll ask those awkward questions like 'when are you two having a baby' and then apologize for being intrusive after being intrusive'' Of course, it was just an assumption, you had only interacted with them for minutes but your biggest mistake in this conversation was bringing up the subject you two avoid. Childe laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

''Well-''

"Childe, we already talked about this. You just have a silly baby fever, and in case you didn't know, fever goes away" You quickly dismissed him, knowing he wouldn't give up so soon. Having a child was a big request, a big wish. But it's not like it wouldn't be ''easy'', you have enough money to have 50 kids and they still wouldn't use up half of Childe's bank account. His family lives in the apartment next door and could teach you more about how to take care of children…But there was still an insecurity boiling inside you.

"But what if it doesn't go away ? What If the urge to go out just to buy little socks for our child keeps eating me ?" He was almost pleading, looking into your eyes just when you tried to avoid his gaze

"...First, you need to give me good arguments" you replied after sigh, somewhat expressing your guilty. Childe opens a big smile and approaches you once more, A fox look - persuasive "hmm... don't you want hold a mini silly Childe in your arms ?-"

"Cut it off! This is serious!"

"O-okay!" He chuckled softly before silence filled the room, he looked at the floor and then at the main kitchen window "We would practically be building a story…That's not the reason I would want to have a child, in fact you is my reason. Sometimes I feel like you are the reason for my existence… and they would [literally] understand me"

You stayed quiet and walked away from the counter, taking off your apron before gently kissing his lips. He cupped your face, wiping away the small traces of flour on your cheeks. ''I'm convincing, aren't I?'' He whispered and pulled away, taking a few steps backwards as he bit into the cookie he stole while you weren't looking. Bastard. You didn't even have time to shout at him because the man was already on the other side of the apartment; you sighed, but couldn't help but giggle.

You married a idiot, a handsome idiot. Have fun.

[eugenedebs1920]

What the actual f*ck!??? How is this even legal!? I guess I’ve never looked at my mortgage breakdown. I knew I had a pretty garbage interest rate, I was waiting for rates to fall and perhaps refinance. I am absolutely blown the f*ck away!!

I pay an extra hundred bucks a month as to just keep chipping away at the principal for the loan and still!! They’re telling me, that I’ve paid, coming up on $15k on my mortgage since I bought my house last year, but I’ve actually only paid $2,300 on the actual house but I’ve given the bank $9,300 for lending me the money to purchase this piece of sh*t home, that I’ve put tens of thousands of dollars into, copious amounts of blood and sweat remodeling this thing!?!?!! WHAT THE F*CK!!!?

When I bought this POS I purchased it in Jan 2023. The listing boasted an orchard, pear trees, apple trees, peach, pomegranate and fig. When I came to see the house, I knew it needed work, but fortunately that’s what I do for a living is remodel houses.

Come to find out the pear and apple trees are infected with fire blithe, an incurable disease.

I don’t think it was the last owners, probably the ones before them but, when I opened the walls and floor, HOLY SH*T! I didn’t know termites could do that much damage! Those f*ckers covered that termite wood so well, while at the same time cursing me with the worst “craftsmanship” I have ever seen… I used to think building inspectors were a pain in my ass. I���ve never respected them more than after purchasing a home on unrestricted land.

After nearly two years of busting my ass both to pay the mortgage, and renovating this dump, I go to check the fruits of my labor, see how much I’ve paid down the house, to find I’ve paid a month of rent in a city off the actual principal of the house, while nearly 4/5ths went to interest.

I’m shocked! I’m pissed! I’m crushed!

Two f*cking years of busting my balls! Two years of living in a renovation that includes replacing the floor joists and nearly all structural studs, both interior and exterior. Two years of chasing the “American dream”, which is having a small piece of property with a very modest house on it, to find that I’ve paid $2,300 on the house itself.

The rest goes to a giant bank who harbors billions of dollars, that it acquired because it speculated (a fancy word for gambled) with other people’s money, as well as making money off having money!?

Then there’s dumbass Eugene over here, being the f*cking tool he is, just a cog in the machine, a brick in the wall if you will, being a good little serf, “just keep working just keep working just keep working.” Paying into a system he despises, lining the pockets of undeserving CEO’s and oligarchs, then some people are shocked that most of us are like, “serves him right” when a CEO of a major health insurance company gets popped!

I’m an early millennial, late GenX, I feel bad for you GenZers and beyond! Home insurance is unaffordable in many places around the country. A bank won’t give you a loan without your home being insured (don’t get me started on shistey ass insurance companies either) which kinda makes sense, so if your home burns down and ain’t worth sh*t, you don’t just walk away like, see ya ✌️ That is leading to these MASSIVE real estate companies purchasing any home they can get there hands on, not only forcing the majority of the middle class to be renters, but also fixing the price for rent, which if any of you don’t know, in any moderately big city, is out of control expensive!

For a country that decries the horrors of communism there are certain aspects of capitalism that create a subjugated class very similar communism for anyone who isn’t wealthy.

How you may ask?

One of the main principles of communism is the lack of individual ownership. Not sure if anyone’s noticed but every year there’s more you spend, but less you own.

Music and movies are no longer physical objects that one has possession of. They are now linked to a streaming service or app that requires internet, or at best downloaded into a computer.

To purchase a vehicle, especially a new one, requires a loan nearly as extensive as what a home use to cost. Vehicles are $60k-$100k anymore!! If you don’t have the credit (which is a NWO conspiracy, and that’s coming from a liberal) you can’t acquire said loan, which leaves you with the option to lease. Again. No individual ownership.

Video games are more and more becoming software that you connect to the internet to play. In my day we had clunky plastic cartridges that we owned indefinitely. Some video games now require subscriptions to Xbox live, or whatever PlayStations equivalent is, to even play the game you don’t own!

So basically what we “own” is the clothes on our back and the various “toys” we have (mine being tools, which in cruel irony are for work). The rest is consumables. Food, booze, herb, vacations, healthcare. What’s the f*cking point!?

I’m telling you my fellow Americans, Republican, Democrat, Independent, if we don’t rise up against this inequality, we, and definitely our children, will live under an umbrella of capitalism where we stay dry from any of its benefits while the rest soaks the very elite with wealth they don’t need.

The top 10% own 67% of the nations capital. That leaves us to split the remaining 33% between the remaining 90% of us. It’s f*cking absurd!!!

I know I ain’t the only dumb f*ck who works his or her butts off day after day after day, building wealth for someone else while we get but a fraction of the record profits the companies we work for make, and are told to like it or we can be replaced.

I thought I made this next thing I’m going to say up, I’ve been using this analogy for years, but just the other day I heard something similar, so I don’t know if my thought got out to the world, of if I unwittingly stole someone else’s thought years ago and claimed it as my own, but…

Let’s say we’re doing a study on a primate colony. In this primate colony there are one or two monkeys who gather as many bananas as they can, more than they could ever eat, hoarding and bogarting nearly three quarters of available bananas in this part of the jungle. The other 50-60 monkeys are left with a measly amount of bananas, whatever is left on the jungle floor that “trickled down” from these monkeys who are hoarding the majority of bananas.

We wouldn’t look at these monkeys as some kind of geniuses of bananas, or as titans of the banana industry. We wouldn’t look at them and wonder, what is wrong with these couple monkeys?! Gathering up so many bananas while every other primate in the colony struggles just to feed their baby monkeys and get by.

That’s where we’ve gotten as a society. There’s a handful of people hoarding all the damn bananas and we can’t hardly get any! Yet they’ve conned us, in a capitalistic fevor, to glorify them. See them as role models. Aspire to be just like them.

As of now there are 6 billionaires in trumps cabinet. How do these people have our best interests in mind? How do they have any basic idea what the middle class needs or desires? How can they be trusted not to focus on their bottom line as their top priority?

They don’t, they can’t and they won’t.

The last time the markets were deregulated and these “titans of industry” had the reigns, in 2007-2008, it was the greatest recession since the Great Depression.

Anyone who’s kept up with my writing might remember a study I often reference and think of. Getting a good sum of money fires off the same reward centers in your brain as doing a line or hit of blow. The same dopamine and serotonin are released in the same way.

We need to stop looking at the wealthy as people who know how to succeed and start recognizing them for what they really are.

Junkies. Looking for that next line of capital snorted up their nostril. That next hit off the glass rose stem of currency.

The whole while as they’re getting their fix from money, it’s done at our expense (no pun intended). Lessening our pay, the safety requirements we work in, our ability to collectively bargain, our employer healthcare, the labor practices, denying coverage, cutting jobs, automating jobs, working on skeleton crews, practicing predatory lending, gambling with pensions, privatizing social security.

We have to remember. Their obligation is to their shareholders. Not their customers, and certainly not their employees.

This will not change unless we rise up against them. I’m not saying with gun violence or necessarily violence in general. They need to know, that without a workforce, they can’t make money. Without a customer base, they won’t make money. Without money, how will they get the monkey off their back?

Workers of the world unite!

[hopes-peak-postal-company]

For Mod Hajime, i hope this doesnt sound weird but could you do a platonic fatherly yandere imagine post with Elias Bouchard? I like to imagine he fixates on a new Institute hire who doesnt know the fears are real and just decides "Its Child time. There is nothing I wont do to make my new child happy." But he also has to work around Jon and them getting in his way because they just dont GET that he's a Father now.

A FATHER'S LOVE!

"surely you'd choose your father over your friends, wouldn't you?"

summary. getting a job at a spooky academic institute offers toms of spooky outcomes. you just didn't expect to get a father figure and a overlyprotective friend group.

contents. platonic yandere! elias; elias is a wet cat grandpa; the archivist gang are slightly yandere; happens right after season 1

✦ It was difficult. Getting by in the big London city and rent to your flat was quite ridiculously high, even for usual london rent standard. But thankfully, a position in The Magnus Institute had opened and you managed to get the spot after wrangling out your best qualities to the HR like you're trading them.

✦ Now, you were aware of what you were getting into. I mean, an institute that's notorious for having many people going MIA or dying, but this was the only job that accepted you out of the millions you applied for and frankly, it pays better than most of them.

✦ So, you worked as the institute's librarian. It shocked you to know that they have their own personal library but at the same time, you kind of expected it. After all, it is an academic institute and there's bounds to be numerous books and soucres to cite for every statement given, regardless of how strange there are.

✦ You've met a couple on the job. Some were nice and often has small talks with you while some simply comes and goes, not even bothering to talk to you unless they're checking a book out. It was fine, of course, you can't help but feel disheartened. After all, all you do is stand by, organize the library and do nothing. It gets a bit lonely sometimes.

✦ And then, one day, a certain someone came to the library and it was no one other than big boss himself— Elias Bouchard. You never met the man before, only hearing him from Rosie and the others, but he is generally well-disliked by his own staff. You had nothing to complain about him and honestly, you find his company nice.

✦ He comes to the library whenever he has free time and then would talk to you. It wasn't just small talk, not just noise coming out of his mouth to fill in the silence, but he talked to you. He told you so many things— his opinions, his likes and dislikes —and even asked you about yours.

✦ Elias would listen intently, taking in every information about yourself in a manner so ... different from how he usually carried himself. Elias Bouchard was a prideful asshole and you knew that obviously well from just his body language, and yet when it comes to you, he is oddly soft. He reminds you almost like a dad for some reasons.

✦ And your relationship with your boss became like that. You didn't mind, you understand to some degree but even still you couldn't wrap your mind around why he chose specifically you. Maybe he didn't choose or maybe he did, but either way, this outcome was better than him hating you.

✦ But then, only a few months into your job, you suddenly got promoted to assistant archivist, joining the very few others in the archives in their day-to-day life.

✦ It was ... suffocating at first. The institute did suffer damage from the Prentiss Attack as you heard from the other employees and with the archives being the main target for the worms, it was not surprise that the Archivist and his team suffered greatly. Though injured, all of them still came back in one piece so that was a good thing.

✦ It took a while getting to know the others: Martin was the quickest to befriend and he'd bring you your favourite cup of tea whenever he can. Tim was the second, jokingly flirting with you at first but he was comfortable to be around and somehow both of your intensive knowledge on memes made the two of you friends. Sasha, on the other hand, took a bit more effort but in the end, she was just as fun and cheery as the other two outside work.

✦ Jon, on the other hand... He was wary, of course, a bit of an asshole too but you were determined to let his walls down, and so was the team. He gradually came to accept (aka get comfortable with) your existence and doesn't glare you like a cat you just rudely woke up.

✦ Elias... Elias isn't too pleased with this development though as you come find. He finds every excuse in the book to have you in office, stalling you just so he could spend more time with you. He had moved to the archives for one very specific reason and that was so he can watch you carefully.

✦ I mean, how couldn't he? You were so nice to him, oblivious to the concept of the entities and you didn't even care if he gets a bit 'spooky' (as Tim puts it) at times. In fact, he claimed you as his kid the moment you seem to play along with his 'little cryptid act'.

✦ But The Archival team... Oh, did they get on his nerves. But he couldn't do anything, no, he was sure you'll know and they'll tell you about what he truly is and he couldn't risk that. He couldn't lose you to them, so he'll have to just slightly abuse his power a bit. Just to have you be by his side a bit longer.

✦ Of course, Archivist and Co. can't stand by idly and watch him take their friend! And so, everytime Elias and one of them come to your desk at the same time, it's practically a tug of war for your affection and attention.

✦ It makes you laugh honestly, seeing them fight like this. Reminds you so much like a father trying to shoo away any his kid's admirers.... Only if you knew though, then you wouldn't be laughing.

notes. hi hii!!! tysm for requesting this!! i always wanted to write for tma but couldn't. ik this is a pretty old req (i think like .... from june i think?) and i wrote this months ago but forgot to finish

reqs are alwyas open!! and dont forget to reblog any of our works here on this blog, it help us a lot!!! ty again for requesting!

[popcornforone]

Speechless

A Javi Gutierrez Fic

Day 13 of Pedrotober

Masterlist

Time for some Sunshine. My sunshine. My Javi G has finally arrived in Pedrotober (thanks as always @norththelemon @alyssamariag for the prompts) & he is just being his soft self as usual.

Synopsis:- You have put on a birthday surprise for Javi.

Word Count:-750

Warnings over & above:- not many if I’m honest teasing swearing insults but this is just being sweet to our man on his birthday.

Thanks for the read peoples. How are we almost half ways.

You hold his hand as you guide him out of the car blindfolded. He’s in his favourite suit. Olive green, & the shiniest shoes you’ve ever seen.

“Baby this really is awakened” he giggles.

“Calm down Javi we are nearly there”

“I mean I’d say good but I have no idea where there is” the gravel crunches beneath both your feet as you walk him around the back of a stately home. “You know I have anxiety right & don’t like surprises”

“Trust me Javi this is one you will never forget”

“Okay bonita”

You slowly walk him around & sit him on a nice plush sofa & make sure everyone who is here, is in position.

“You ready Javi” you’re the more excited person out of the two of you.

“Yes I have been for about a 2 hours” he scoffs.

“Okay you can remove the blind fold now”he does as you ask & as his eyes flicker open, he’s met with amazement.

“Surprise!” Everyone shouts. He’s in a large English stately home that you’ve rented for the night. Friends & family from your side & his around him, including Nicholas Cage & a couple of special people. There’s a huge screen with a projector & he notices a couple of people in the back ground.

“No fucking way is that…”

“Yes” you reply beaming & out walk Hugh Grant & Ben Whishaw who come over & introduce themselves to Javi.

“Sir it’s an honour” Hugh says grabbing his hand for a firm shake.

“Yes” says Ben who then hugs you & then Javi. “Once we’d found out what a super fan you were, we had to come put this on for you”

“Put what on”

“Paddington in Peru” says Ben. “For your birthday, your wonderful other half contacted us & explained what a fan you were of Paddington 2 so we thought why not let one of our biggest fans be the first person to see it”

“I…I…” for the first time in your life Javi is speechless. You can see his eyes welling up as he looks back at you. “You’ve organised all this for me? for my birthday?” He looks like a puppy those big brown eyes swelling.

“Yes Javi” you hear a cough from 2feet away. “I mean Nick helped as well, but yes we wanted you to have the best experience for your special day. I know most 5 year olds want to watch Paddington but who says you can’t be 45 & watch it” Javi the grabs you & pulls you down onto the sofa forgetting everyone is here & kisses you deeply. His tongue inspecting every aspect of your mouth.

“Well this is a bit awkward” Hugh Jokes & you both pull apart & apologise.”… & I should know awkward, I was in the film unfrosted as Tony the Tiger” the room all laughs.

“You were the best part of that film” Javi & you say in unison & then everyone laughs again.

“Why thank you both, but I have been paid so you don’t have to flatter me” Hugh reply’s.

Everyone goes & helps themselves to snacks & drinks in the garden & finds a chair to sit down on. Javi is happy he’s got a pop corn bucket shaped like Paddingtons hat & that next you you both is a bottle of champagne on ice.

As everyone is ready the projector starts to whirl & the film gets ready to play. You kick your shoes off so you can wrap yourself around Javi to watch the film. He carefully moves a stand of your hair & whispers.

“This out does Nick for my 40th by the way” he chuckles.

“Really?” You reply shocked.

“Really” he smiles “I was insulted by Hugh Grant in a stately home while Ben Whishaw looked awkward, best birthday gift ever.”

“Good” you say “cos I had to sell your private jet for this”

“What” Javi almost spits out his popcorn.

“You really don’t get my sarcasm sometimes so you Javi”

“True” he kisses your forehead. His hand squeezes your bum & then you see his eyes widen. “No underwear baby”

“Nope, it’s your birthday. You get to enjoy everything in any way or speed that you want to” the music to the film starts up & Javi slaps your bum.

“Hmmm suddenly this film I’ve waited 6 years to see is suddenly going to become a distraction from the main event later”

[slocumjoe]

Companions as housemates

Cait; First few months are rocky, but by the time the lease is up, she's gone to rehab and cleaned up enough to not get booted. Rarely ever home, but when she is, its the same as letting in a feral cat from the window. She's messy, but it's contained to her room. Will do the garbage for you if it's too heavy, always looking for a chance to show off her guns. Also carries groceries in for this reason. Sometimes has hookups over but thats lessened after getting clean. Will stay and listen to you complain about work, parents, school, etc and take your side 80% of the time. The 20% is the times where she thinks it's funny and/or respects the audacity. She's an acquired taste for a roommate, but she’s chill and she won't judge you for anything. Well, unless you start collecting crytsals or something.

Codsworth; He's less a roommate and more a live in butler. Does all the cooking, cleaning, laundry, etc. You can if you want, its just...he prefers if he does it, no offense. His job is very lax, but pays very well. Probably an actual butler for pay. Has all the tea on the other people in the complex/neighborhood, but good luck getting him to share. It isn't proper to gossip, after all. His room is very colorful and kitschy. Lots of vintage pieces from the 60s and 70s. Like round, soft shapes for decor. Keeps lots of houseplants around, for the clean air. Gets really offended on your behalf, always has one little complaint about your romantic partners. Takes you out for spa days. The way he cuts cucumbers is terrifying but no one ever believes you when you describe it. Will make the most incredible faces if your neighbors are being loud for any reason. If it's arguing...you won't tell anyone if he makes popcorn, right?

Curie; Polite, absurdly clean, she's friendly...but she's also going to comment on your diet, your sleep schedule, alcohol consumption, screen time, hygiene, self-care routines, etc. If you're okay with that, or maybe even want it, she's great. If not, ugghhhh. Curie goes to work early and comes home late, so she's fond of meal-prepping so she doesn't have to cook. If you make dinner for her, you are now besties. Makes friends with whoever you have over, likes company and socializing. Will pay for all groceries, she makes good money and wants you to eat well, not cheap. Likes having planned hangout days. Brunch, movie night, going hiking, you're a part of her life and she wants to bond with you! Curie is the kind of roommate who you stay good friends with long after moving out.

Danse; Wakes up at the same time every single day. When does he sleep? Up to God. Takes so long to get comfortable around you. He's was in the army, so he's familiar with shared space, it's just that you won't learn anything about him for months. Like, he won't talk. About anything. Good morning, good night, he's paying his share of rent tomorrow. Once he does does open up, inch by inch, will occasionally drop the tiniest bit of lore about himself that shocks you. Yeah haha he helped his foster brother commit suicide once, would you hand him a paper towel? If you have people over, he will stay out in his car until they leave. Won't say anything, but he's obviously grumpy. Very clean and orderly, will gently judge you if you're not. Functional alcoholic. You're pretty sure he's gonna have a mental breakdown one day.

Deacon; Almost always home...as long as you're there. It's like Schrodinger's cat, he exists when he's theoretically supposed to. When he isn't there, he's off at his job that he's always talking about but has never described. You know everything about his coworkers except their names or what they do. Sometimes will tell you about your coworkers like you work at the same place. Will dress up as a 50's housewife to make you breakfast and dinner, and it's a gamble if its edible. All you know about his room is that he has every kind of gender pride flag, and a giant model of the bunny from Monty Python. Ask his pronouns, he will say whatever yours are like an honest to God fae. He pays rent in physical cash. Sometimes in Sacagawea gold coins, sometimes in 100s. Your landlord refuses to talk about it. He's messy, but freakishly hygienic. There's no dust allowed, but leaves cups everywhere. Invites you to plays he's acting in but never tells you what role. But...you know he's there. His name is on the cast list. But who is he.

Gage; Likely planning to bump you off so his pet lizard can get your room. Has a lot of cash, but he doesn't have an official job. Cops show up every other week but never actually take him. He's surprisingly organized and will ride your ass if you aren't. Hygiene, though...smelly. Bitches if you drink, but will pick you up from bars if you go out. Very private about himself, but a great listener, will make coffee and let you vent for hours. 100% going to use it as blackmail material if needed. If you bring a partner or hookup over and they're of questionable nature, will tell you in front of them you can do better. He always knows a guy, so you always get shit fixed for cheap. His room has souvenirs from his previous jobs and none of them he could have obtained legally. He is the prickliest cactus in the desert, but as a roommate...he starts to grow on you. Like mold.

Hancock; Hope you like weed! Because the apartment smells like weed. Has his own plants in his room, they're all named and he coddles them like children. Has people over constantly. Partyier, party thrower. Hope you like company. Terrible cook but orders takeout for you. SO MESSY. SO UNHYGIENIC. But at the same time, pays for professional cleaners. Has a lot of money, and you're not sure what he does, but it isn't just weed dealing. You think he does something law-oriented because he's really knowledgeable on it. Will help you unionize your workplace, and he knows every HR team/person in a fifty mile radius. They usually hate him, but they know him. Sleeps in until the afternoon, real night owl. Tries to set you up with people, will stop if you ask. Very fun and friendly, and doesn't judge you for literally anything, but...he's a lot. Very clingy, will hug/cuddle you a lot if you ask and say you're okay with it.

MacCready; Divorced, ex-wife has the kid. They're all on good terms, MacCready sees Duncan often. Brings him over for a week if you're okay with it. He's messy but tries not to be. Always complaining about his job, but brushes you off if you give any advice about it. Drinks way too many energy drinks, but never finishes them. Almost-empty cans litter your apartment. Could talk for hours about video games, comics, and TV with you. Lots of 'kid' snacks for the boy but they don't last long. Has a collection of firearm magazines and a shelf with competitive shooting trophies. 1 rifle in a safe with so many locks, don't even look at it. Is a mediocre cook, but will make food if you're stressed out. Hate-watching bad shows and movies with him is a blast, always notices the out-of-place camera guy or Starbucks cup.

Nick; You have a new dad. Will raise an eyebrow if you look at the thermostat too long, but won't say anything if you turn it up. He wants to, but he won't. Always concerned about your health, but in a less-prying way than Curie. Sleeping good, making sure you get something to eat? Will tell you small anecdotes from work, but nothing too detailed. Coffee is always fresh and hot in your apartment. His room is...interesting, aesthetically. Lots of pink, black, red, has vintage furniture. It's very classy and theatrical, looks right out of an old Hollywood noir. Wine snob. Makes a lasagna that would turn the straightest man gay for him. Judges your romantic partners with nothing but a subtle facial expression. Sits and listens to you talk about whatever you need to very seriously. And doesn't plan on using it as blackmail. Older queer, will take you on a baby queer understudy.

Piper; Disaster roommate. Her room is a flurry of papers, coffee cups, food wrappers, ramen cups...always moving, always bouncing between tasks. Asks you about your day, how are you doing, oh, hold on a minute...okay, what were you saying? Oh, one second—busy bee. Hardly ever sleeps, but when she does, its like the dead. Her share of rent is always just barely late. Will ask your opinion on something for whatever she's writing and cites you as a legitimate source. Gets into long, LONG, rambling, passionate rants that can take entire sections of the day. Hope you like hearing about the complex political issue that plagued a southern town in 1967 following the popularization of a method of cereal manufacturing. Ask her to cook, she'll try. Don't expect results. Sends you the most cursed shit she finds online.

Preston; Two coffee pots. One that you pour individual cups from, one he chugs directly from. Insomniac, often spends his nights cleaning, working from home, cooking/meal-prepping. If you ask about his work, he'll say nothing but good things, but you can tell he has so much shit to talk, if he were a slightly worse person/willing to gossip. Like Curie, wants to have a good relationship with you, will take time out of his schedule to do stuff. Best DD, if you go out drinking and he takes you home, you're getting a luxury experience (inflatable bed in the backseat, loads of water + gatorade, and whatever you want from McDonalds). Does a lot of charity work and invites you to join. He's very sweet outwardly, but since you live with him and get to see him when he isn't talking to Certain People directly...you know damn well those hinges are hanging on with chewed gum and all that coffee. If he comes home and stands blankly in the hallway for a minute, a coworker pulled some Shit and if you're lucky, you might get to hear about it.

X6-88; A fascinating experience. So clean, so orderly, you struggle to convince people you have a roommate when he isn't there. He does everything silently. One look from him could probably kill, but he just uses it to tell you to clean your mess or something. Doesn't cook or have groceries. Where are you eating, dude? Has a membership to a private, luxury gym that you can't even google. His room is totally empty, save his degrees, a collection of knives, and a pinned butterfly in a case. Under an NDA to not say anything about his work. 100% would help you hide a body, though he'll judge you for not knowing how to yourself. And your handiwork with the murder. Your friends think he's a vampire. He actually cracked a smile when told this, but he didn't have the fangs, so jury's out on that theory. Might humor you if you want to take him out for some kind of activity. Very interested in museums and art galleries.

[micahs-chin-scar]

do you have any sad headcanons about shion?

A few, yeah!

- Has a massive inferiority-superiority complex with an absolute zero in self-worth. No one who's actually confident goes around babbling about how much stronger and better they are than everyone around them. And remember how it's mentioned that he dislikes "cocky bastards" in the character book? Take that as self-loathing or insecurity, but either way it's well-known that people tend to dislike traits in others that mirror their own least favorite traits.

- Related to the above point, the main way Shion tries to increase his self-worth himself is through comparison with others. He looks up to Izana as an ideal to reach for, while also being immensely frustrated that he'll never be on his level (see: his conversation with Rindou in the charabook). He demolishes opponents without mercy, with a brutality that we've seen shocks even his own gang members, because it gives him proof that he actually has worth - more than those weaklings he's just beaten at least. He’s stronger and strength equals worth in the world of delinquents/gangs. His enjoyment of fighting isn’t just about the process itself (though he probably enjoys the adrenaline rush that comes with it), it’s about the validation.

- Thrives on praise and the admiration of others, so he constantly has to act tough, look good, and prove his worth. He can’t stand the idea of being left behind, forgotten, or dying useless and unwanted, which is why he always overcompensates in every direction. He's also very easily manipulated because of this.

- The reason why he cares about Tenjiku so much is because he's never felt like he had a place he belonged before. The gang didn't just give him a status and power, it gave him comrades that came from similar circumstances as him. Tenjiku is his safe haven, something he can fall back on and be sure and certain of the safety net available. Nothing was the same after it got disbanded.

- Was "raised" by a single, shitty dad. I'm sorry but his behavior just screams daddy issues to me. Said dad didn't visit him once during his time in juvie when he was 13. Shion ended up moving out (running away) when he was 16. He now lives in a small, run down apartment, but rent is cheap and no one bothers him aside from the landlord.

- His humiliating defeat against Mikey as the Black Dragon leader took a huge toll on him because not only did he lose his gang and leader position, he disappointed Izana, the person he admires most in the world. He was eager to prove himself during the opening match against Toman years later because it was supposed to be his "redemption".

- Was the one who took Izana's death the hardest aside from Kakucho.

- Has had several flings but no actual relationship by the time of Kanto Manji Gang. It's not that he's against it per se, he's just... very difficult to deal with. Of course that just reinforced him in his idea that he's inherently unlovable, which shows up on the surface as "no one is good enough for me anyway".

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Sympathy For The Devil

Masterlist pt 1

Masterlist pt 2

*(y/n)'s POV*

"Come on!" Dean shouts as he grabs both me and Sam and pulls us away from the sigil. We run but the doors slam shut. We go and rattle the door but it wouldn't budge and the light was seeping through the door. Then there was a high-pitch noise sounding out in the room. Sam looks at me and Dean then we look back at the light, I squeeze my eyes shut then cover my ears and fall to my knees, as does the boys.

Suddenly, everything stopped and it felt like I was sitting on something. I open my eyes and realized that I was sitting in a plane. I look to my right and see Sam sitting next to me in the seat and I turn left to see Dean in a seat across the side aisle of it. "What the hell?" Dean asked us, the look of astonished and shock on his face. "I don't know." I said and I look over at Sam, who shrugs and shakes his head.

"Folks, quick word from the flight deck. We're just passing over Ilchester, then Ellicott City, on our initial descent into Baltimore—" the pilot on the intercom said and I turn to Dean. "Ilchester? Weren't we just there?" I asked him and he nods.

"So if you'd like to stretch your legs, now would be a good time to—Holy crap!" the pilot exclaimed and then the plane shakes and goes off kilter, people were thrown around and screaming. Oxygen masks drop down and the boys and I grab our masks as a white light outside the window grows blinding, the high-pitched noise coming back.

*3rd Person POV*

"And Governor O'Malley urged calm, saying it's very unlikely an abandoned convent would be a target for terrorists, either foreign or homegrown." the radio announcer said through the radio of the rented car Sam and Dean got. (Y/n) had gotten her motorcycle back after the boys took her back to Cold Springs, she follows close behind them as they ride throw town.

"Change the station." Dean tells Sam and he pokes a button on the digital radio.

"—Hurricane Kinley, unexpectedly slamming into the Galveston area—"

"—announced a successful test of the North Korean nuclear—"

"—a series of tremors—"

"—swine flu—"

The radio shuts off and Sam sighs as silence befalls the brothers. "Dean, look—" Sam starts to say but Dean shakes his head. "Don't say anything." he said and there was a pause of silence. "It's okay. We just got to keep our heads down and hash this out, all right?" Dean said. "Yeah, okay." Sam mutters.

"All right, well, first things first—How did we end up on Soul Plane?" Dean asked. "Angels, maybe? I mean, you know, beaming us out of harm's way?" Sam suggests. "Well, whatever. It's the least of our worries. We need to find Cas and Ariel." Dean said and Sam turns his head. "Who's Ariel?" Sam asked. "She's another angel. Didn't really get to know her much but...after we find them, I've got some questions for her." Dean said as they continue to drive.

The trio walk through Chuck's devastated house. Suddenly,  there was a nois and they both turn but nothing. They keep looking around until Chuck jumps out and hits Sam on the head with a toilet plunger. Sam stumbles back, hand to his head. "Geez! Ow!" he shouts.

"Sam." Chuck said, confused. "Yeah!" Sam yells. "Hey, Chuck." Dean and (y/n) said and Chuck stares at them then back to Sam. "So...you're okay?" he asked him. "Well, my head hurts." Sam groans. "No, I mean—I mean, my��My last vision. You went, like, full-on Vader. Your body temperature was one-fifty. Your heart rate was two hundred. Your eyes were black." Chuck said and (y/n) furrows her brow.

"Your eyes went black?" she asked Sam, who looks back over his shoulder. "I didn't know." he said. "Where's Cas and Ariel?" Dean asked Chuck. "They're dead. Or gone. The archangel smote the crap out of them. I'm sorry." Chuck said, sadly. "You're sure? I mean, maybe they just vanished into the light or something." (y/n) said, in denial. "Oh, no. Both of them, like, exploded. Like a water balloon of chunky soup." Chuck said.

Sam takes a closer look at Chuck and waves a hand at his own left ear. "You got a—" he said and Chuck waves a hand at his own right ear. "Uh...right here?" he asked and Sam indicates the other side of Chuck's head. "Uh, the..." Sam said as Chuck feels at his hair.

"Oh. Oh, God." Chuck groans as he pulls something out. "Is that a molar? Do I have a molar in my hair?" he asked and the trio noticed that it was, indeed, a molar. "This has been a really stressful day." Chuck grumbles whole Dean sighs.

"Cas, you stupid bastard." Dean mutters. "Stupid? He and Ariel werr trying to help us." (y/n) said to him. "Yeah, exactly." Dean exclaims.

"So, what now?" Sam asked. "I don't know." Dean yells. "Oh, crap." Chuck said, looking uncomfortable. "What?" (y/n) asked him. "I can feel them." Chuck said, upset. "Thought we'd find you here." a voice said and the boys and (y/n) turn around to see Zachariah and two other angels standing behind them.

"Playtime's over, Dean. Time to come with us." Zachariah said and Dean points at him. "You just keep your distance, asshat." Dean growls. "You're upset." Zachariah said, unfazed. "Yeah. A little. You sons of bitches jump-started judgment day!" Dean shouts. "Maybe we let it happen. We didn't start anything. Right, Sammy?" Zachariah said and he winks at Sam, who looks down in guilt.

"You had a chance to stop your brother, and you couldn't. So let's not quibble over who started what. Let's just say it was all our faults and move on. 'Cause like it or not, it's Apocalypse Now. And we're back on the same team again." Zachariah said. "Is that so?" Dean asked, suspiciously. "You want to kill the devil. We want you to kill the devil. It's...synergy." said Zachariah.

"And I'm just supposed to trust you?" Dean asked then he shakes his head. "Cram it with walnuts, ugly." he spat and Zachariah starts to get angry. "This isn't a game, son. Lucifer is powerful in ways that defy description. We need to strike now, hard and fast—before he finds his vessel." Zachariah said.

"His vessel? Lucifer needs a meat suit?" (Y/n) asked, confused. "He is an angel. Them's the rules. And when he touches down, we're talking Four Horsemen, red oceans, fiery skies—the greatest hits." Zachariah said then he turns to Dean. "You can stop him, Dean, but you need our help." he said. "You listen to me, you two-faced douche. After what you did, I don't want jack squat from you!" Dean yells, angrily.

"You listen to me, boy! You think you can rebel against us? As Lucifer did?" Zachariah asked but then he noticed Dean's hand was bleeding. "You're bleeding." he points out. "Oh, yeah—a little insurance policy in case you dicks showed up." Dean said and he slaps his bloody hand on an Angel Banishing Sigil drawn behind a door. "No!" Zachariah shouts and Sam, (y/n) and Chuck flinch as a white light flashes and the angels vanish.

"Learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch." Dean spat. "This sucks ass." Chuck sighs, depressed.

Sam rushes down a staircase, past a couple making out, and enters the motel. Dean loads a gun while (y/n) sat on the bed, her hands clasped in front of her face. Sam enters the room. "Hey." Dean said as (y/n) raises her head to him. "Hey." Sam said as he closes the door, pulls something out of his shirt, and tosses it to Dean. Dean catches it and examines it. "Here. Hex bags. No way the angels will find us with those. Demons, either, for that matter." Sam said as (y/n) looks over at it.

"Where'd you get it?" she asked him. "I made it." Sam replied. "How?" Dean and (y/n) asked. Sam hesitates long enough for Dean and (y/n) to look up at him. "I...I learned it from Ruby." Sam said and Dean puts the gun down and approaches Sam.

"Speaking of. How you doing? Are you jonesing for another hit of bitch blood or what?" he asked him. "I-it's weird. Uh, tell you the truth, I'm fine. No shakes, no fever. It's like whoever...put me on that plane cleaned me right up." Sam said. "Supernatural methadone." (y/n) jokes. "Yeah, I guess." Sam said and he pauses.

"Guys--" he started to say but Dean interrupts him. "Sam." He said as he turns away. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything." he said. "Well, that's good. Because what can I even say? I'm sorry? I screwed up? Doesn't really do it justice, you know? Look, there's nothing I can do or say that will ever make this right—" Sam said. "So why do you keep bringing it up?!" Dean asked, loudly, and Sam sighs while (y/n) jumped slightly at this. 

Dean then turns back to him. "Look, all I'm saying is, why do we have to put this under a microscope? We made a mess. We clean it up. That's it." he said and Sam nods. "All right, so, say this is just any other hunt. You know? What do we do first?" Dean asked. "We'd, uh, figure out where the thing is." Sam said. "All right. So we just got to find...the devil." (y/n) said, giving a slight shrug.

Meanwhile, a woman named Becky, whose bedroom walls have poster-size prints of the covers of Carver Edlund's Supernatural: Route 667 and Supernatural: The Benders, sits at her computer, typing and reading aloud. "And then Sam touched—" she stopped then shakes her head, backspace a bit then continues to write. "No. —caressed (y/n)'s clavicle with one hand and her cheek with the other. 'This is wrong,' said (y/n). 'You know I'm with Dean.' She said but her eyes were filled with lust and excitement. 'Then I don't want to be right,' replied Sam, in a husky voice, and he leans into her and presses a firm kiss to (y/n)'s lips. She was shocked at first but then excitement overtakes her as she wraps her arms around Sam's strong, broad shoulders."

Suddenly, she gets a message which appears on her screen: CARVER EDLUND CALLING. She frowns and clicks Accept. The window expands to a videophone: it's Chuck. He glances over his shoulder and back while Becky covers her mouth, excited enough that it causes her difficulty speaking.

"Oh...my...God. You. You're..." she stammers, excitedly. "Carver Edlund, yeah. Hi, Becky." Chuck said. "You got my letters. And my marzipan." Becky exclaims while Chuck can't quite meet her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Um...yummy. But, uh—" he stammers. "I am your number-one fan. You know, I'm samlicker81." she said.

"I'm sorry. You're—You're what?" Chuck asked. "Webmistress at morethanjustfriends dot net?" Becky said. "Oh. Yeah. No, yeah. You're my...number-one fan." he said and Becky grins. "That's why I contacted you. You're the only one who will believe me." he said, looking heavenward.

Becky frowns, concerned. "Are you all right?" she asked. "No. I'm being watched. Okay, not, not now—at least, I don't think so. But I don't have much time. I need your help." Chuck said and Becky switches back to overexcited. "You need my help?" she asked, excitedly. 

"That's right. I need you to get a message to Sam, Dean and (y/n). Okay?" He said and Becky sighs, reality intruding. "Look, Mr. Edlund...Yes, I'm a fan, but I really don't appreciate being mocked. I know that Supernatural's just a book, okay? I know the difference between fantasy and reality." she said, sternly. "Becky, it's all real." Chuck said, frantically. And Becky snaps back to overexcitedness. "I knew it!" she screams.

Back at the hotel, Sam stares at John's journal while (y/n) and Dean were watching TV. (Y/n) was sitting up on the bed while Dean was laying across the bed, his head on her lap. "How would you then explain an earthquake, a hurricane, and multiple tornadoes, all at the same time, all around the globe?" the man on the TV asked to an environmentalist. "Two words. Carbon emissions." he said and (y/n) shakes her head in disbelief at this as she runs her fingers through Dean's hair. "Yeah, right, wavy gravy." Dean scoffs, sarcastically.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Dean sits up, quickly, and pulls his gun as (y/n) pulls her own gun while Sam answers the door. It's Becky, who is excited she's having trouble breathing.

"You okay, lady?" Sam asked her. "Sam...is it really you?" she asked him, her voice shaking. Sam glances back at Dean and (y/n). Becky steps closer and puts a hand on Sam's chest. "And you're so firm." she said and Sam raises an eyebrow at her.

"Uh, do I know you?" he asked her and Becky pulls back. Sam continues to stare, bewildered, while Dean and (y/n) share a look. "No. But I know you. You're Sam Winchester." Becky said then she looks over at (y/n). "Oh my God! You're (y/n) (l/n)! You're so pretty!" Becky exclaimed and (y/n) furrows her brow in confusion. "Uh, thank you?" (Y/n) said, not sure how to take this, then Becky looks at Dean, who's staring at her, his gun hand out of sight.

"And you're—not what I pictured." she said, a bit disappointed, to Dean, who seemed a bit offended. "I'm Becky." She introduced as she pushes past Sam into the room. "I read all about you guys. And I've even written a few—" she said then she glances down, giggling a little.

"Anyway, Mr. Edlund told me where you were." She said and Dean and (y/n) stand up. "Chuck?" Dean asked as Sam closes the door. "He's got a message, but he's being watched. Angels. Nice change-up to the mythology, by the way. The demon stuff was getting kind of old." Becky said. "Right. Just, um...what's the message?" Sam asked her.

"He had a vision. The Michael sword is on earth. The angels lost it." Becky said. "The Michael sword?" (y/n) asked, confusion. "Becky, does he know where it is?" Sam asked him. "In a castle, on a hill made of forty-two dogs." she replied. "Forty-two dogs?" Dean said, confused.  "Are...you sure you got that right?" Sam asked her. "It doesn't make sense, but that's what he said." Becky said then she steps closer to Sam.

"I memorized every word." She said then she touches Sam's chest. "For you." she said and Sam glances at Dean and (y/n) then back down at Becky. "Um, Becky, c—uh, can you...quit touching me?" he asked her. "No." she whispers and (y/n) bites her lips as she holds back a laugh.

*(y/n) POV*

After the crazy girl left, we called up Bobby to come see us. Few hours later, there was a knock at the door and Dean goes to open it, revealing Bobby. "Hey, Bobby." Dean said and he and Bobby hug. "Hey..." I greet him and Bobby goes to hug me too.

"Good to see you three all in one piece." Bobby said as he goes to hug Sam and Dean closes the door. "You weren't followed, were you?" Dean asked him. "You mean by angels, demons, or Sam's new superfan?" Bobby asked and Sam and I laugh.

"You heard." Sam said. "I heard, Romeo." Bobby jokes and Sam rolls his eyes. "So...sword of Michael, huh?" Bobby asked. "You think we're talking about the actual sword from the actual archangel?" I asked Bobby. "You better friggin' hope so." Bobby said.

Minutes later, Bobby opens a book to a painting of Michael surrounded by other angels. In this painting, Michael looks like a winged woman and the other angels like naked babies with wings. "That's Michael. Toughest son of a bitch they got." Bobby said as Sam flips to another painting. Again, Michael has a feminine face.

"You kidding me? Tough? That guy looks like Cate Blanchett." Dean jokes and I chuckle. "Well, I wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley, believe me. He commands the heavenly host. During the last big dust-up upstairs, he's the one who booted Lucifer's ass to the basement. Did it with that sword." Bobby said as he points to the sword in the painted Michael's hand.

"So if we can find it..." Bobby said. "We can kick the devil's ass all over again." I said and Bobby nods. "All right. So, where do we start?" Sam asked. "Divvy up and start reading—try and make sense of Chuck's nonsense." Bobby said and Sam gets up and heads for a pile of old books and stares at the books for a long moment, not reaching for them.

"Kid? You all right?" Bobby asked then Sam turns to Bobby. "No, actually. Bobby, this is all my fault. I'm sorry." he said. "Sam..." Dean and I said, warningly. "Lilith did not break the final seal. Lilith was the final seal." Sam explains. "Sam, stop it." Dean yells but Sam continues.

"I killed her, and I set Lucifer free." Sam admits and Bobby looked taken aback. "You what?" he said, shocked. "You guys warned me about Ruby, the demon blood, but I didn't listen. I brought this on." Sam said while Dean and I don't say anything.

Bobby then stands and walks closer to Sam. "You're damn right you didn't listen. You were reckless and selfish and arrogant." he yells at Sam. "I'm sorry." Sam said, apologetically. "Oh, yeah? You're sorry you started Armageddon? This kind of thing don't get forgiven, boy. If, by some miracle, we pull this off...I want you to lose my number. You understand me?" Bobby yells at Sam, who nods. Dean doesn't protest but I couldn't hold back.

"Bobby, isn't that a bit harsh? I mean, yes, Sam screwed up but we are gonna fix it." I defended and Bobby turns to me. "Don't you dare argue with me, girl." Bobby growls at me and I glare at him. "I'll do whatever the hell I want!" I yelled while Dean holds me back.

"(Y/n), it's okay." Sam tells me then he sighs. "There's an old church nearby. Maybe I'll go read some of the lore books there." Sam tells Bobby. "Yeah. You do that." Bobby growls and Sam starts to leave the room. "I'll go with him." I said then I walk pass Dean and glare at Bobby as I walk up to Sam and we leave the room.

As Sam shuts the door behind us, I curse under my breath. "Can't believe him..." I muttered and Sam sighs. "(Y/n), I appreciate you standing up for me but...honestly, I deserve it." Sam said and I turn to him. "No, you don't." I said. "Yes, I do. This is all my fault. I didn't listen to you or Dean." He said and I frown. 

“Sam you didn’t know what was gonna happen.” I said. “That doesn’t make it alright. I…I started the apocalypse (Y/n).” Sam said. “I know and we’ll fix it.” I assured him. Sam shakes his head and looks down. “Hey.” I said softly, place my hand on his arm. Sam lifted his head slightly to look at me. “We will Sam. I know things are pretty mess up right now, but all that matters is that we’re all together again. Let’s just take this one step at a time.” I said.

“Aren’t you mad at me? For Ruby and everything else?” Sam asked. “Of course I’m mad.” I replied, slightly raising my voice a little by accident. Sam nodded and looks down again, like a dog that’s knows it’s in trouble.

“But you’re still my best friend Sam.” I added and Sam look up to meet my eyes. “And I can’t blame you for wanting to kill Lilith. I still think about that horrible night we lost Dean and those four terrible months we had to live without him, because of her. Honestly I think a part of me would have done the same and that scares me.” I explained, averting my gaze as I felt tears building up from thinking about Dean’s death.

I roughly wipe my eyes and look back up at Sam. “But what’s done is done and right now…I’m just glad you’re okay.” I said. Sam smiles, tearfully, and steps closer, to hug me. “Thank you, (Y/n).” He whispered, burying his face in my shoulder. “Anytime Sammy.” I said, patting his back, reassuringly.

*3rd Person POV*

Bobby and Dean were sitting, doing research, when Bobby speaks up. "I never would have guessed that your daddy was right." He said. "About what?" Dean asked him. "About your brother." Bobby replied and Dean looks up

"What John said—you save Sam or kill him. Maybe..." Bobby trails off. "Maybe what?" Dean asked him. "Maybe we shouldn't have tried so hard to save him." Bobby said. "Bobby." Dean said, exasperated.

"He ended the world, Dean. And you, (y/n) and I weren't strong enough to stop him proper. That's on us. I'm just saying, your dad was right." Bobby said then an idea comes to Dean. "Dad." he mutters then he rummages through his bag and pulls out a plastic Ziplock full of cards. "It's got to be in here somewhere." Dean mutters.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bobby asked. "Here." said Dean as he pulls a card out and reads it. Bobby stands up as Dean walks over to him. "I don't believe it." Dean whispers. "What the hell is it?" Bobby asked. "It's a card for my dad's lockup in upstate New York. Read it." he said and Bobby takes the card.

"Castle Storage. 42 Rover Hill." He reads. "Castle on a hill of forty-two dogs." Dean recites as he takes the card back. "So you think your dad had the Michael sword all this time?" Bobby asked. "I don't know. I'm not sure what else Chuck could have meant." Dean said. "Yeah. Okay. It's good enough for me." Bobby said before he attacks Dean, knocking him through the barrier between the kitchenette and the beds.

Bobby then yanks Dean up and slams him down again as his eyes go black.

Bobby grabs Dean by the throat and drags him to his feet just as a female demon enters, a male demon came up behind her. "I always knew you were a big, dumb, slow, dim pain in the ass, Dean. But I never dreamed you were so V.I.P." the female demon said then she sees Ruby's knife on the table and picks it up. "I mean, you're gonna ice the devil? You? If I'd have known that, I'd have ripped your pretty, pretty face off ages ago." she said as she turns to Dean

"Ruby." Dean said and the female demon shakes her head. "Try again. Go back further." She said, a small smile forming on her face, and Dean's face lights up with realization. "Meg?" he said and her smile grows. "Hi. These are the days of miracle and wonder, Dean. Our father's among us. You know we're all dreaming again for the first time since we were human? It's heaven on earth. Or hell. We really owe your brother a fruit basket." she said and Dean rolls his eyes. "My God, you like the sound of your own voice." he snarks.

"But you, on the other hand, you're the only bump in the road. So every demon—every single one—is just dying for a piece of you." Meg said and Dean smirks. "Get in line." Dean said. "Oh, I'm in the front of the line, baby. Let's ride." she said then she kisses Dean.

"What is that, peanut butter?" Dean asked after she pulls back from the kiss. "You know, your surrogate daddy's still awake screaming in there. And I want him to know how it feels slicing the life out of you." Meg said and she hands the knife to Bobby, who raises it to Dean's throat as he struggles.

"Bobby!" Dean shouts and Bobby looks back at Meg. "Now!" Meg shouts and Bobby raises the knife to stab Dean. "Bobby! No!" Dean yells and the black fades from Bobby's eyes. The knife comes down and Bobby flashes gold as the demon in him dies, Bobby had stabbed himself. He collapses as Dean rushes Meg and the male demon.

The male demon slams Dean into the wall then the floor. Sam and (y/n) enter and see Bobby on the floor, bleeding, and Dean getting beaten.

"No!" Sam and (y/n) shouted when Meg turns to them. "Heya, Sammy and (y/n). You two miss me? 'Cause I sure missed both of you." she said. "Meg?" Sam said and she grins. Sam swings and misses then Meg kicks him in the crotch and knocks him to the ground while the male demon continues to beat Dean up.

"It's not so easy without those super-special demon powers, huh, Sammy?" Meg said a she goes to punch Sam but then her and her comrade were thrown off of the boys. "He may not have them, but I still do." (Y/n) growls as her hand was held out towards Meg then Dean grabs the knife out of Bobby's stomach and stabs the male demon in the chest, killing him.

Meg tries to get up but (y/n) uses her power to hold her down. "Besides, you and me have some unfinished business, bitch." (Y/n) growls but then Meg screams and smokes out of the woman, who collapses. (Y/n) lowers her hand and let's out a heavy sigh at this then her and Dean share a look.

*(y/n)'s POV*

The boys and I burst into a hospital emergency room, Sam and Dean carrying Bobby. "Need some help here!" Dean shouts as we run in. "What happened?" the nurse asked once she jumps up from her chair. "He was stabbed." Sam said then the nurse turns to a couple nurses nearby.

"Can we get a gurney?" she asked and the two nurses rush a gurney over to Bobby. "Hang on, Bobby. Hang in there. You're gonna be okay." Dean said as we get Bobby onto the gurney and the nurses rush him off, the boys and I follow him until the nurse stops us.

"Just wait here." she tells us. "We can't just leave him." I said, frantically. "Just don't move. I've got questions." the nurse said and she leaves. "Guys, we got to go." Dean tells us and I shake my head. "No." I said. "No way, Dean." Sam said. "The demons heard where the sword is. We got to get to it before they do, if we're not too late already. Come on!" Dean said and he leaves; Sam and I follow him as they head to the Impala and I got on my bike.

Dean opens the trunk of the Impala after we make it to these storage building. We load guns and close the trunk then Dean unlocks the storage room, Sam and I stand watch. Minutes later, we enter the room, our shotguns ready. Then we found dead demons sprawled across the floor.

"I see you told the demons where the sword is." a voice said and we turn to see Zachariah and two other angels with him. "Oh, thank God. The angels are here." Dean said, sarcastically. "And to think...they could have grabbed it any time they wanted." Zachariah said then he waves a hand to close the door. "It was right in front of them." he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked him. "We may have planted that particular piece of prophecy inside Chuck's skull, but it happened to be true. We did lose the Michael sword. We truly couldn't find it. Until now. You've just hand-delivered it to us." Zachariah said to us and Sam and I share a confused look as Dean said. "We don't have anything."

cIt's you, chucklehead. You're the Michael sword." Zachariah said to Dean, who stares at him in shock. "What, you thought you could actually kill Lucifer? You simpering wad of insecurity and self-loathing? No. You're just a human, Dean. And not much of one." Zachariah said and my fist clenched at this.

"What do you mean, I'm the sword?" Dean asked them. "You're Michael's weapon. Or, rather, his...receptacle." Zachariah replied. "I'm a vessel?" Dean said, confused. "You're the vessel. Michael's vessel." Zachariah said.

"How? Why—why me?" Dean asked. "Because you're chosen! It's a great honor, Dean." Zachariah said, a smile on his face. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, life as an angel condom. That's real fun. I think I'll pass, thanks." Dean said and Zachariah chuckles a bit. "Joking. Always joking." he said then his face goes serious. "Well...no more jokes."

Then Zachariah raises one hand, fingers like a gun, and points at Dean, then shifts to me. "Bang." he said then I felt my legs break and I collapse on the ground, screaming in pain. "God!" I screamed. "(Y/n)!" Sam shouts, panicked. "You son of a bitch!" Dean yelled, angrily, as my eyes filled with tears.

"Keep mouthing off, I'll break more than her legs. And then it will be Sam's turn. I am completely and utterly through screwing around. The war has begun. We don't have our general. That's bad. Now, Michael is going to take his vessel and lead the final charge against the adversary. You understand me?" Zachariah yells at Dean. "How many humans die in the crossfire, huh? A million? Five, ten?" Dean asked him while I take deep breathes and Sam kneels down to me. "Probably more. If Lucifer goes unchecked, you know how many die? All of them. He'll roast the planet alive." Zachariah said.

"There's a reason you're telling me this instead of just nabbing me. You need my consent. Michael needs my say-so to ride around in my skin." Dean said. "Unfortunately, yes." said Zachariah. "Well, there's got to be another way." Dean said, desperately. "There is no other way. There must be a battle. Michael must defeat the serpent. It is written." Zachariah said, firmly. "Yeah, maybe. But, on the other hand...Eat me. The answer's no." Dean said, standing his ground.

"Okay. How about this? Your friend Bobby—we know he's gravely injured. Say yes, and we'll heal him. Say no, he'll never walk again." Zachariah said and I glance up at Dean.

"No." Dean said, firmly, and Zachariah frowns. "Then how about we heal you from...stage-four stomach cancer?" he said then Dean doubles over, coughing. He spits into his palm, where there was blood. "No." Dean groans while Sam looks between me and Dean. "Then let's get really creative. Uh, let's see how...Sam does without his lungs." Zachariah said and Sam starts to gasp for breath.

"Sam! Dean!" I cried. "Are we having fun yet? You're going to say yes, Dean." Zachariah said then Dean raises his head to him. "Just kill us." he spat at him. "Kill you? Oh, no. I'm just getting started." Zachariah said, and he sounded like he was getting some sick pleasure from this.

Then a two bright lights flash and Zachariah turns to see both Angles collapse, a bloody hole in their throats. There stood Castiel and Ariel and Zachariah looked stunned. "How are you..." Zachariah stammers "Alive? That's a good question." Castiel growls then Zachariah turns to Ariel. "Ariel? Y-You...we thought..." he said and Ariel shakes her head.

"How did these three end up on that airplane? Another good question. 'Cause the angels didn't do it. I think we know the answer, don't we?" Ariel said, sternly, to Zachariah. "No. That's not possible." Zachariah said, shocked. "It scares you. Well, it should." Castiel said and Ariel points at me and the boys. "Now, put these three back together and go. I won't ask twice." she threatened. Zachariah vanishes and that's when I started to feel my legs again and Sam was able to breath and Dean was coughing up blood.

"You three need to be more careful." Ariel said to us as we stand up, sounding like a mother giving a warning to her children. "Yeah, I'm starting to get that. Your frat brothers are bigger dicks than I thought." Dean said. "She doesn't mean the angels. Lucifer is circling his vessel. And once he takes it, those hex bags won't be enough to protect you." Castiel said and he puts one hand on Dean's chest, the other on Sam, then Ariel reaches out one hand and places it on my chest, making all three of us gasp.

"What the hell was that?" I asked them. "An Enochian sigil. It'll hide you from every angel in creation, including Lucifer." Castiel replied. "What, did you just brand us with it?" Dean asked. "No. We carved it into your ribs." Ariel said and there was a pause of silence.

"Hey, Cas, were you two really dead?" I asked him. "Yes." Castiel replied as Ariel nods. "Then how are both of you back?" Dean asked but then both Castiel and Ariel vanish, leaving us alone with two dead angels.

"Unlikely to walk again?! Why, you snot-nosed son of a bitch! Wait till I get out of this bed!" Bobby shouts at the Doctor, who then leaves the room. The boys and I standing by the window to his room. "I'll use my game leg and kick your friggin' ass! Yeah, you better run!" Bobby shouts then he looks over at us.

"You believe that yahoo?" Bobby asked us, annoyed. "Screw him. You'll be fine." Dean assures him and Bobby sighs. "So, let me ask the million-dollar question. What do we do now?" Sam asked. "Well...We save as many as we can for as long as we can, I guess. It's bad. Whoever wins, heaven or hell, we're boned." Bobby said, shrugging.

"What if we win?" Dean asked and Bobby, Sam and I turn to face him, who sounded a bit too confident. "I'm serious. I mean, screw the angels and the demons and their crap apocalypse. Hell, they want to fight a war, they can find their own planet. This one's ours, and I say they get the hell off it. We take 'em all on. We kill the devil. Hell, we even kill Michael if we have to. But we do it our own damn selves." Dean said, confidently. "And how are we supposed to do all this, genius?" Bobby asked with a bit of a sneer in his voice. "I got no idea. But what I do have is a GED and a give-'em-hell attitude, and I'll figure it out." Dean said.

"You are nine kinds of crazy, boy." Bobby said. "It's been said." Dean said and he pats Bobby on the shoulder. "Listen, you stay on the mend. We'll see you in a bit." Dean said and he heads for the door, Sam and I start to follow him until Bobby spoke up.

"Sam?" He said and Sam and I stop. "I was awake. I know what I said back there. I just want you to know that...that was the demon talking. I ain't cutting you out, boy. Not ever." Bobby said and Sam sighs, almost sounding a bit relieved. "Thanks, Bobby." he said. "You're welcome. I deserve a damn medal for this, but...you're welcome." Bobby said and I give him a smile. "You just try to get better, Bobby." I said and we leave the room.

"You know, I was thinking, Dean—maybe we could go after the Colt." Sam suggests as we walk to the Impala and my bike. "Why? What difference would that make?" Dean asked him. "Well, we could use it on Lucifer. I mean, you just said back there—" Sam started to say but Dean stops in the middle of the road. "I just said a bunch of crap for Bobby's benefit." he said and Sam and I stop, looking at him.

"I mean, I'll fight. I'll fight till the last man, but let's at least be honest. I mean, we don't stand a snowball's chance, and you guys know that. I mean, hell, you of all people know that." Dean said as he looks at Sam then goes around him.

"Dean..." Sam said and Dean turns back. "Is there something you want to say to me?" Sam asked him. "I tried, Sammy. I mean, I really tried. But I just can't keep pretending that everything's all right. Because it's not. And it's never going to be. You chose a demon over your own brother, and even over your friend, and look what happened." Dean said and Sam rolls his eyes. "I would give anything—anything—to take it all back." Sam said.

"I know you would. And I know how sorry you are. I do. But, man...you were one of the two that I depended on the most. And you let me down in ways that I can't even..." Dean pauses, struggling for words, and I frowned at this. "I'm just—I'm having a hard time forgiving and forgetting here. You know?" Dean said.

"What can I do?" Sam asked him. "Honestly? Nothing." Dean said and Sam nods a little, looking down. "I just don't...I don't think that we can ever be what we were. You know?" Dean said and Sam nods again. "I just don't think I can trust you." Dean said and Sam looks up at him, seemingly not expecting those words to come out of Dean's mouth. 

"Dean..." I said in a soft voice but Dean shakes his head and walks away, paused at the trunk of the Impala to look back, then gets into the driver's seat. Sam sighs and he and I share a look for a moment before I turn my head away then go to my bike, which is parked next to the Impala.

I walk up to my bike then ball up my fist and, weakly, hit the seat of my bike with the side of my fist. Now with Lucifer out and about, it feels like everything's changing and things are gonna get worse before they get better. But, as I turn my head to look over at the boys as Sam gets into the Impala, there is one thing I don't want to be change and that is this bond I share with these boys.

But it seems after what Sam has done, the cracks are breaking through. And I am just terrified what's to come.

@rach5ive @kitsun369 @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @ellie-andthemachine

[sabraeal]

don't speak boyshit, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

It’s not that Kamitami waits around for Kashima. People get that shit twisted all the time, thinking that they’re joined at the hip just because they’re in the same club a couple days a week, or have stupid kid brothers that like to run around together, or because he acted like some sort of emotional support dog for the first few months after that kid came to the academy. But that’s not why he lingers at the bike rack after practice, fussing at the gears as Kashima herds the skinny little bean sprout that passes for Kotaro out the school doors.

No, it’s because when he gets up, casually dusting off his uniform pants like this is all a happy accident, like he only just saw them wandering down the walkway with a purpose and not whole minutes ago, all he has to say is, “Heading out?” and Kashima replies, “Oh, Kamitani! I didn’t see you there! I guess if you don’t mind.”

He grunts at that, grumbles a bit, but that’s the thing— he doesn’t. Most people are effort, expecting him to do shit like talk and be nice— like he doesn’t have a dozen other things he’d rather be doing than shooting the shit with the boneheads in his class, or being cornered by a bunch of girls who think giggles are a good way to carry a conversation. But Kashima can keep one up all by himself, not expecting anything more than a grunt to tell him to keep going. All those nerds that study physics might say that perpetual motion is impossible, but that’s only because they’ve never seen Kashima on a real jag before midterms. Kid doesn’t even need air sometimes.

He’s quiet today though, letting Kotaro off his leash enough to scramble through some bushes. At least, as long as they stand there, staring at the quivering branches like they have any idea what that kid is up to in there. Which is fine with him; if he can’t count kids then he won’t feel that weird missed-step pitch and roll in his stomach, like something’s missing. Like it’s weird that Taka isn’t in orbit around him, some puny little moon determined to crash right into his planet’s surface, instead of the only thing he’d wanted for the last five years.

Kashima shifts like he might feel it too, like he’s done the mental math and come up one body short of normal. But he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t fill the air with chatter, telling him that it’s okay to have emotions, to mourn even the positive changes in his life. Doesn’t ask him stupid questions either— that’s what he likes about Kashima, honestly. The kid knows how to stay in his damn la—

“Kamitani?” His name sits high in Kashima’s mouth, strained even as he tries to look casual. “Are you avoiding Inomata-san?”

Well, there goes that. Time to find some new fucking friends.

“Kamitani?” Kashima cranes his huge eyes towards him, shock scrawled across every millimeter of white around them. “Are you?”

He’s not.

That’s the long and short of it. If that girl’s going around complaining that she can’t find him, well— that’s a skill issue. It’s not because he’s been making himself scarce whenever he hears the squeak of her school shoes rounding the corner, or because he’s been finding reasons to stay late at club just in case some nerd’s lurking around the bike rack, waiting to shake him down over her stupid questions. Kamitani isn’t just walking around, letting Inomata live rent-free in his head twenty-four-seven just because she wants to know what his type is.

At least, that’s what he should say. What he wants to, once he’s had some time to stew on it. But what he manages now is, “Shut up.”

A couple years ago that might have actually done it; might have made Kashima’s eyes get all big and watery and sent him scrambling for a safer kind of conversation. But tonight he only sighs, sending him the sort of look that makes Kamitani’s shoulders ache, begging to bow beneath the weight of his disappointment.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, you can just say so,” Kashima tells him, all prim, like shut up wasn’t clear enough. “But if you want my opinion—”

“I don’t.”

“—You should talk to her.” His gives the barest little shrug, like this is casual advice, something he probably hadn’t been working himself up to say all evening. “At least find out what she wants to tell you.”

“I already know what she wants.” What feature do you find most physically attractive in the opposite sex and why? “To annoy the shit out of me.”

“Kamitani.” There he goes again, giving him that look, like somehow he’s the wrong one here. “I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think it will be.”

He’s right. It’ll be worse. “Easy for you to say.”

Kashima hums, unconvinced. “She’s a perfectly nice girl, if you’d just give her a chance. Which you’d know, if you’d just talk to her.”

Kid wouldn’t be so quick to say that if he was the one saddled with fifty short answer questions about what gets his dick hard. “Why should I? Because you think it’s the nice thing to do?”

 “Well, yes.” His head tilts, half-thoughtful, half-guilty. “That, and, er…Inomata-san isn’t exactly known for giving up…”

Ah, well. Kamitani grimaces. Kid does have a point. It’s just fifty questions, after all. No wrong answers. “I’ll think about it.”

*

Just fifty questions.

What traits besides the physical do you find desirable in the opposite sex?

Opinion shit, too. Simple stuff.

What would you consider the ‘perfect date?’

Easy as breathing.

Do you have a ‘type?’ If so, what is it?

Except it’s fucking impossible. Oh, sure, he’d given Kashima a metric ton of shit about letting some perfectly cute girl off because he didn’t know whether he liked her or not. Because he’d spent too much energy trying to figure it out, and he wanted to focus on being a good big brother, or whatever, but now—

Now he’s had two weeks to find out he doesn’t know shit about what he likes either. Just like back in first year, when Kashima cornered him with the sort of questions those stupid magazines asked idols, and all he’d been able to give him was his height and blood type. Only worse, because a third year should know his favorite food, or favorite color, or at least have a fucking opinion about whether he likes shy girls or sporty girls or whatever, and Kamitani—

Kamitani doesn’t. Even when he’s got his dick in his hand, it’s just whoever’s on the cover of the nearest magazines from the neck down. Nothing special, just breasts and butt and the idea of a warm body to make the whole thing go quicker. Real simple. Utilitarian, even. Reasonable.

It’s goddamn embarrassing, that’s what.

“I’m as bad as fucking Kashima,” he grunts, the heel of his hand the only thing keeping his forehead from meeting the desk. He’s half-tempted to let it go— a couple minutes of unconsciousness would be welcome with the way this day is going but—

“What’s up, Captain?” Saginuma’s grin can get him climbing walls on a good day, but right now one flash of it has him putting in real effort not to snap the arm resting between his seat and Kamitani’s desk. Be easy too; the kid doesn’t work out enough to give him more trouble than a toothpick. “Can’t figure out how to get the team to Koshien?”

“Shut up.” That gets his head up at least, even clears it a little. “I could win those games with my eyes closed.”

“Yeah, get real, Saginuma!” Hands clap down on his shoulders, shaking them the way Usokawa’s probably only seen through the TV screen. It takes a full count of ten for Kamitani to convince himself it’s not worth it to break his fingers too. “Kamitani’s got our season on lock. We’re going all the way to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Saginuma waves him off, already bored. “But it begs that question doesn’t it? If our dear captain here isn’t biting his nails over plays, then just what has got him so stressed out?”

It’s bad enough that he has to suffer that idiot’s grin ratcheting wider, his stupid arm trespassing further into his personal bubble to support that shit-stirring lean— but it’s worse to see he’s got Usokawa doing the same thing, lenses flaring like some lame cartoon villain. Even Ebizawa’s half-turned in his seat.

“None of your business,” he snaps. Stupid move, since that only gets Ebizawa to turn the full way around, brows pitched high on his forehead. “I’m not stressed out.”

“Sure, of course. You’re just pulling your hair out for fun, like the rest of us.” Usokawa adjusts his glasses, too knowing. “Now come on, tell us what’s up.”

“Nothing.” It comes out too fast, too defensive. Might as well have put up a big sign saying, I’m hiding something. Bonehead move, since there’s no way he can asked these losers about—

Or maybe he could. Ebizawa’s had a string of girlfriends; nothing serious, just a few confessions that stretched into a handful of dates, petering out by the time they had to switch uniforms. Even Saginuma had a vague something over summer break second year, at least until the girl left him for the ghoul in 3-B’s haunted house during the culture festival. And Usokawa…

Well. Was Usokawa. Even if he’d never strung more than three words together in front of a girl, he had opinions about them. Not ones Kamitani cared to listen to, but he had them, at least. Unlike some people.

“Hey,” he grunts, scrubbing at the back of his head. “What’s your type?”

Kamitani’s not stupid— he expects the question to land like a bomb, devastating the conversation around it. He expects the silence, the glances that pass between Ebizawa and Saginuma, like there must be something wrong with their ears—

But he doesn’t expect Usokawa’s nearly instant, “B! Just like yours, right, Kamitani?”

It takes his brain a full ass minute to catch up. “I don’t care about your fucking blood type.”

Usokawa blinks. “But you said—?”

“He meant like with girls, idiot.” Ebizawa glances at him, like he can’t quite believe it himself. “Uh, right?”

His shoulders twitch, skin starting to itch right around his collar. “Whatever.”

“What? Really? Kamitani?” Sure, it’s not something he usually cares about, but there’s no reason for Usokawa to gape, pitch forward all slack-jawed like it’s some sort of shock. “Well, I like bookish girls with glasses and a soft side.”

Huh. F cups and a preference for bikinis would have been his guess for that perv, but that’s practically normal. Nice, almost.

“They always have the biggest breasts, after all,” Usokawa leers, and ah, there it is. The weird shit he’s been waiting for. “Plus they get all bashful during the beach chapters when they lose their—”

A well-timed cuff from Saginuma saves him from having to hear anymore about beach episodes. “He means three dimensional girls, idiot.”

“Hey, some of those games are fully rendered n—”

“The ones that aren’t programmed to take their tops off if you feed them enough cheesecake.”

“Oh, well, fine, I guess. In that case,” —Usokawa clears his throat, adjusting his tie for good measure— “my type is anyone who lets me touch them.”

“I said real girls,” Kamitani grunts. “Not non-existent.”

“I kind of like when they’re shy,” Saginuma offers, almost wistful. “Girls, I mean. Though I like them when they’re perky too. Energetic, you know. Or both, I guess.”

“They can’t be both shy and energetic,” Usokawa scoffs, like he’s some sort of expert. “Those are on two completely opposite sides of the same slider, like bookish and sporty—”

“I don’t know, some girls are shy until you get to know them.” Ebizawa shrugs, holding the only brain cell between the three of them. “And then they talk just as much as all the other girls. Sometimes even about the same stuff.”

“Yeah, Usokawa. Girls have layers.” Saginuma grins, adding, “At least the ones in 4D.”

“Hey, my waifus have layers too!” he insists, entirely too earnest. “Some of them even have seasonal outfits!”

Kamitani turns, putting both of those idiots at his back. “What about you?”

Ebizawa blinks. “Me?”

“You’re the only one out of these chucklefucks who’s managed to talk to more than one girl for ten minutes.” And have her keep his interest for longer than it takes the conversation to end. A superpower, as far as Kamitani’s concerned. “What’s your take?”

“Oh…er…” He runs a hand through the fluff of his hair. “I don’t really know. Ah…nice girls, I guess?”

“Nice girls?” Saginuma groans. “Really? All those girlfriends and that’s what you’re got? Girls that are nice to you?” He huffs, shaking his head. “Must be nice to be good looking.”

“T-they don’t have to be nice to me!” Ebizawa sputters, red splotching his cheeks. “Er, I mean…it’s nice, when they are. But I was thinking when they’re like…actually nice. The ones that are always supporting their friends, or uh…helping underclassmen with their work, or like…get chocolates for the whole class on Valentine’s Day—”

“Really?” Saginuma’s brows brush his hairline. “You want obligation chocolate?”

“I’m not saying that I—I want that! I just think it’s just nice that they’d think of everyone when—”

“Not everyone is too proud to take Kamitani’s seconds,” Usokawa sniffs. “Right, Ebizawa?”

“He doesn’t speak for me.” Ebizawa’s gaze cuts to him, desperate. “You know that, right? I don’t want any of your, er…ah….?”

“Actually, yeah.” Saginuma swings back around, forehead crumpled in disbelief. “What is with that, dude? Can’t you be at least a little grateful? Some of the ones you got last year were handmade.”

Annoyance itches up Kamitani’s spine, spiking his shoulders up around his ears. “I don’t like sweet shit. What’s hard to understand?”

“Yeah, but you could be nice about it.” Ebizawa flinches under his glare. “I’m just saying! Girls put in a lot of effort into that sort of stuff. It wouldn’t kill you to think about their feelings.”

“Why the hell do I care?” It’s not like any of those girls cared about his. None of them asked if they could shove their chocolates in his face; they just did it and hoped he’d think they were cute enough not to care that he couldn’t even put a name to a face. Like it wasn’t weird to have upperclassmen corner him with some half-baked confession when they hadn’t even spoken two words to each other. “I’m not interested in any of that sort of shit.”

His life’s complicated enough; the last thing he needs is to add some girl’s tender feelings to the mix. The hag’s bad enough as it is.

“Really?” Saginuma blinks, all wide-eyed, like this is some revelation or something. Like he hasn’t spent the last four years dodging every doe-eyed classmate that tried to get him on the roof alone, or every enterprising senpai that brought him a bento. “You know, now that I’m thinking of it— just what do you like in a girl?”

“Oh, hey, yeah!” Usokawa whips around in his seat, practically vibrating. “You’ve asked all of us, but you haven’t said— what’s your type, cap?”

It’s just his luck that every conversation in this classroom reaches a fucking lull just in time for Usokawa to put his personal business on blast. There’s not one head that doesn’t snap to their corner, the weight of thirty stares boring into into him and—

And Kamitani scowls. This isn’t just a mistake, it’s a fucking disaster.

“None of your business,” he grunts, already halfway out of his chair. There’s no plan once he gets out of it, just a certainty that anywhere he goes will be better than staying here, but—

Bing-bong ding-dong.

“All right, students,” Kumatsuka-sensei hums, quiet voice carrying beneath the last tolling note of the bell. “Time to take your seats.”

*

The thing is: he really doesn’t care about this shit. Perfect dates and blood types and whether someone’s chocolates end up on his desk out of obligation or not— none of that matters. The other guys might waste their time thinking about which girl in class fills out the uniform best, or who would look the cutest in a yukata, or whether they have a chance of getting either of them to kiss them on the school roof before the end of the year, but that’s not his problem.

A girlfriend’s inevitable; the kind of thing that’ll happen to him one day no matter how he feels about it. Worrying over when or how is like tearing his hair out over earthquakes that’ll hit in his thirties— absolutely useless, and completely out of his control. It’ll either wreck his whole life or it won’t; he doesn’t need to have an opinion about whether it’ll have a B or C cup when it does.

Or at least he didn’t, until now. Because now it’s weird that he hasn’t.

“Kamitani-senpai?” Chain link rattles as Sato settles against the batting cage next to his, arms folded just under the name stitched onto her windbreaker. “Got something on your mind?”

None of your business sits at the tip of his tongue— a reflex, really, a rock he’s always ready to throw— but there’s no one else here on the pitch, and if he’s being fair, it’s a manager’s job to ask that sort of thing. “No.”

“Senpai.” It huffs out of her, as close to a laugh as he’s heard from her. “The machine stopped pitching balls two minutes ago.”

The bat dips in his fingers, scuffing dirt across the plate. “Huh? Re—?”

A ball whiffs past— the perfect one, a real potential out-of-the park pitch— the whole cage rattling as chain link catches it instead of aluminum. Sato simply says. “No.”

Kamitani’s cleats kick up clay as he shifts, abandoning his hitter’s stance to scowl. Another pitch whizzes through, hitting the chain a little lower, and she adds, “But you didn’t notice one way or another, did you?”

Kid’s got him there. He sighs, leaning back until metal crowds him, worn enough to bow out and cradle his shoulders. Her head cocks, bobbed hair settling against the line of her jaw. Makes it look strong, like she belongs here, part of the team rather than just a cheerleader on the sidelines.

“Sato.” This time the machine’s really out, gears clucking across the pitch, whining and whirring until it finally shuts off. “You’re a girl.”

She blinks— real slow, mouth rucking up all weird too, weight shifting until she goes from at rest to potential energy all at once. “Is that what you were thinking about, senpai?”

“What?” It’s not like he needs to meditate on her bone structure to figure it out; the bust-to-waist ratio kinda gives it away. “No. I’m saying that you know what girls are thinking. Because you are one.”

Kamitani’s not the type to give ground, but he will give the kid this: he’s earned the epic side-eye she slants him, both brows hiked up to hit her hairline. Or at least, he assumes they are after he loses line-of-sight over the event horizon of her bangs. “I know what I’m thinking, at least.”

Good enough. “If you were asking a guy about his type, what would you want him to tell you?”

Sato stares. “Is someone asking you that kind of stuff, senpai?”

“Hypothetically,” he grunts, shoulders hunched. “What would a girl be looking for?”

There’s a pause— a long one; strained, like she’s coming up with answers he’ll never have the clearance to hear— before she says, “A boyfriend?”

“Not happening.” Not when his only qualification for this whole survey business is that he’s best friends with the idiot Inomata actually likes. “What else.”

“I don’t know about that, senpai.” Her nose scrunches up, all dubious. “Are you sure she doesn’t want you to say she’s your type?”

“Hell no.” Inomata might not know much about this shit, but even she’s not stupid enough to expect ‘high-maintenance know-it-all’ to rank at the top of anyone’s list. “This is…informational. Data, or whatever.”

“O…kay.” She fixes him with this look, one that says then-what-the-hell-are-we-doing-here-senpai, and, god, he should have just kept his mouth shut. “Then why can’t you just tell her what you’re into?”

Kamitani might be shit with his feelings or whatever, but even he knows that it’s frustration that makes his neck knot up so much it aches, that makes his fingers so stiff they practically crack as he drags his hat down, covering his face. “Forget it. This is stupid.”

“W-wait! Senpai”— there’s chain link between them, but Sato half-reaches out anyway, eyes wide— “do you not…? I mean, with girls, don’t you—?”

“Girls are hot.” There’s some heat behind it when he says it, a different kind of frustration funneling right out of his mouth, the kind that hits him when school skirts slip a little too far up a thigh, or when his elbow brushes past something that certainly isn’t a shoulder, but he’d rather die than let more of it out. “I just don’t think about it all the time.”

Sato blinks. “Oh. Okay. So you don’t really have a, er…?”

“I just don’t get what people want to hear,” he grounds out, folding his arms to hide the way his hands clench. “Like, what? That tits are good? Or that I care about some hobby or whatever? I don’t.”

“Ah, I…see. I think.” Her head tilts again, but this time it’s assessing, like she’s trying to figure out his fucking problem. “Maybe you should think of it like…what’s the first thing you notice about a girl when you look at her?”

Easy. How annoying she’s going to be until he finds a reason to walk away. “Legs?”

Sato coughs, like something’s gone down the wrong pipe. “Well. That’s a start.”

He frowns. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Her grimace is all the answer he needs. “Okay, what if you thought about it more as…if you were going to date someone, senpai, what would you want them to be like?”

Nothing like the old hag, for one. “Normal.”

Sato’s whole face furrows, like not only is his answer shitty, but it has a stank to it too. “Normal.”

“Like they don’t get weird or whatever.” It’s self-explanatory, really, but Sato keeps staring at him like he belongs beneath a microscope. Or maybe on the bottom of her shoe. “You know what I mean. Girls are fine, but then they become girlfriends and just hang off a guy until something shakes ‘em off.”

“And that’s”— she hesitates— “bad?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Because then they wanna go on dates. Get all picky over who a guy talks to, even if it’s just for school stuff. Want to call them by their first name.”

Kamitani hadn’t even known Ebizawa had a name, not until his last two-month wonder came in with a special bento just for her Arata-kun. He could have died happy never knowing.

Sato sighs, hand rubbing over her face. “Senpai, are you even sure you want a girlfriend?”

“I’m not talking about me,” he grunts. “This for data or whatever.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, senpai” — she glances up at him, shaking her head— “but I think you’re an outlier.”

*

Outlier — that’s a nice way to put it, one even Kashima would be hard put to argue over. He’d try, of course, say a bunch of things about opportunity and responsibilities and everyone taking things at their own pace, but it wouldn’t change the facts:

It’s fucking stupid that he can’t figure this out.

“Hayato!” The hag doesn’t so much shout his name as let it reverberate through the whole house, practically shaking the floorboards just to get attention. “Hurry up! I’m leaving in ten.”

Kamitani grunts, wrist-deep in his shirt drawer. The same place he’s been standing for the past five fucking minutes, thinking about this shit instead of picking between long sleeves and short ones. Because that’s apparently where this whole disaster has put him— not able to think and function at the same time. “Give me a minute, woman!”

It’s Inomata’s fault. He’d been just fine before he looked at her stupid questions, but one flip through them has him so twisted up he’s struggling to put his arms through the right holes, taking no less than three tries to get the damn thing buttoned the right way and—

“Hayato!” His teeth clack down so tight he nearly scrapes a layer off his tongue. “Let’s go!”

“I’m coming,” he growls, shoving his shirt down into his pants. “I’m coming.”

His hands fumble the belt— someone needs to put him out of his fucking misery already— and it’s with one last glance in the mirror that he sees red and white stripes balled up in the corner. A half-tied, hopeless mess that’s probably been there since April, when the old taskmaster that ran this school insisted that everyone had to wear their full uniform to the Entrance Ceremony, and—

There’s a tie in our dress code. Even now he can see that sour sneer she gave him, all superior, like being top-spot in the Advanced Class made her better than him. As a third year, you might bother to wear one.

It’s stupid. He couldn’t be paid enough to care about what Inomata thinks about him. And still—

Still he snatches that tie and sling it over his neck. Let her fucking choke on that.

*

Lunch bell’s hardly rung before Saginuma’s hanging over his seat, phone shoved right up under his nose. “You guys seen this yet?”

Kamitani’s neck cranes back, the black blur on the screen resolving into a blur with shit on it. “Maybe,” he grunts, knocking Saginuma’s arm wide. “If you didn’t just shove it in my face.”

Kid doesn’t even break stride, just lets his phone settle between the four of them as he plows on. “It’s Onibaba’s Curse 3: The Cure, the sequel to Onibaba’s Curse—”

“I know how numbers work,” Kamitani grunts, glaring down at the screen. Not that there’s much on it— just black and some white figure, no less blurry at this distance. “What’s it got to do with me?”

“It’s playing at the theater in town right now.” Ebizawa and Usokawa are crowding in now, and Saginuma puffs up as he says, “We should go see it. I heard it’s even scarier than the first one, and that—”

“Nearly had Kashima climbing out of his skin,” Usokawa reminds him. It’s gleeful, the way he says it, a feature rather than a warning. “Sounds perfect.”

Kamitani catches the empty seat to his side and frowns. “Where the hell is Kashima, anyway? Didn’t he bring lunch today?”

“He did.” Usokawa turns wistful, one cheek propped up on his hand. “Probably made by that butler of his. Think he’ll let me have a slice of his omelet if I give him one of my hot dog octopuses?”

“No deal. That guy makes a whole aquarium’s worth of those suckers,” Saginuma sighs. “And they’re made from the really fancy dogs too.”

“Aw, but—”

“I didn’t ask about his hot dogs.” It comes out of him like a whip crack, a roll of thunder right before lightning strikes, but neither one of them does so much as jump, too caught up in dreaming about Saikawa’s stupid sausages. “Where’s Kashima?”

“He got called out by another girl again.” Ebizawa shakes his head, huffing, “This is, what? The third one this month? It’s not even summer break.”

“It’s third year, I’m telling you.” Usokawa’s eyes blink wide behind his glasses. “It makes the girls crazy. All of them are looking for their high school romance, and they’re taking no prisoners.”

Kamitani snorts. “Seems like they’re taking plenty of prisoners, actually.”

“Hey.” Ebizawa shifts in his seat, pitching himself up on one knee. “If we’re gonna get bread, we should probably get going.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kamitani gets to his feet, rolling his shoulders to work the stiffness out of them. “I’m—”

“You!” School shoes squeal as they skid to a stop right in front of him, and oh, he knows that stomp too well to even need to glance above the knee-highs. “Don’t move.”

It’s nothing to smirk down into Inomata’s scowl, to straighten from his slouch and loom every last inch over her, enjoying the way her mouth only furrows further into her cheeks. “And what are you going to do—?”

About it, that’s what he should be saying. Maybe even with a real aggressive lean, feet planted so she can’t haul him off like she did last time. But she wraps a whole hand around his tie and tugs instead, and the thought rattles right out of him, ideas as dried up as his mouth.

“Come with me,” she grunts, another good yank driving him two steps after her. He barely makes it; the room tilts as Inomata herds him out, knees suddenly jelly, trembling, and—

And she’s got to be choking the life out of him. That’s why everything’s gone all swimmy, breath ragged like he’s run four kilometers without stopping for air.

“Hey.” He digs in his heels, hauling her up short. “Cut it out.”

She scowls up at him, knuckles still blanched to match the red and white wrapped around them. It’d be nothing to knock her away, to squeeze that wrist until her fingers untangled themselves, but instead he just stands there, stupid, as she snaps, “We don’t have all day.”

Kashima’s the kind of idiot that would just take it, that would stand here, letting his mouth work— babbling, probably— until she hauled him off. But Kamitani— Kamitani waits until he’s sure his knees will hold him before he yanks the tie from her grip, demanding, “Just where are we going?”

Inomata blinks— all slow, like he’s the idiot— and says, “The courtyard.”

He frowns. “What? Why?”

“What do you mean why?” She lifts the bag in her hand— a nice cloth one, the kind the rich kids always had wrapped around their parent-packed bentos— and says, “It’s lunch time.”

*

That girl might not have him on a leash anymore, but she still bullies him right down onto one of the courtyard’s empty benches. One of the last ones, by the looks of it; everywhere else is covered in couples, making doe-eyes at each other, feeding each other from their nearly compartmentalized meals. Thankfully they’re all too wrapped up with each other to notice when Inomata shoves a bento in his lap, a single sheet of printed paper balanced on top.

“What the hell is this about?” Kamitani grunts, glaring as she drops down beside him, her own bento perched in her lap. “I was gonna get bread.”

“This is better than bread,” she informs him primly, breaking apart her chopsticks with the same precision as she arranges the pleats on her skirt, a sharp charcoal horizon cutting across her knees. “This is a balanced meal.”

He glares down at the metal lid, dubious. “Curry bread is balanced. There’s meat. Bread. Stuff.”

“It’s really not. Now hurry up and eat.” Her chopstick stabs toward the paper he’s snatched up between his fingers. “You’ll need time to fill out the rubric.”

“The…?” It’s a grid, he realizes, staring down at the sheet. Flavor, one square says, while another below it reads, Mouth Feel. There’s other squares beside them too— comments, the first one reads, while the one after says, score—

A grading rubric. She’s given him a grading rubric for lunch.

“There’s something wrong with you, you know that?” he grumbles, flicking open the latch. “Something real unbalanced.”

“Well, if you can’t answer some simple questions” — simple, she says, like it would take a real moron to get caught up on question two. Like a hot-blooded high school boy should know what he likes when it bends over right in front of him— “then I’ll have to resort to acquiring useful data through other means.”

He snorts. “Like making me choke down your cooking?”

“Don’t scoff when you haven’t even looked at it.” Her chin lifts, all prideful, but he can’t help but notice she hasn’t opened hers either. “Maybe I’ve struggled with some of the…er…finer points of pastry, but even I can make a bento.”

“We’ll see,” he hums, giving her rubric a pointed glance. She swallows at that, real thick, the nerves starting show in the way her fingers clench against her own tin, and, well, he might as well put her out of her misery—

“What?” It’s barely more than an exhale, breathy as she leans closer, glancing between the open bento and the look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s vegetables in this.” Bell peppers, broccoli, and the worst offender: carrots. Big, thick slices too, laid right on top of his rice. Gross.

Her forehead furrows, mouth rucked up with annoyance. “There’s vegetables in curry too.”

He grunts, rolling the chopsticks in his hand, trying to figure out how to get to the actual food underneath. “Not ones I can see.”

Inomata stares at him, real nasty-like, as if he’s the problem, and not the girl who put vegetables in his lunch. “How are you one of this school’s top athletes? You eat like a garbage bin.”

“I’m a growing boy.” That’s what the hag always says at least, before shoving more bok choy onto his plate. Chopsticks clacking, he excavates the rice beneath a strip of nori, stopping to pick up fish and pickled radish before shoveling the whole thing into his mouth.

Inomata pitches forward, eyes wide. “Well?”

He shrugs, picking out a slice of carrot. “It’s edible.”

“Edible.” He might as well have said disgusting from the way she groans, a useless heap collapsed over her completely untouched lunch. “I don’t want it to be edible.”

Kamitani shovels in another bite— this one with pickled lotus— and it’s…passable. Nutritious, if not exactly mouthwatering. He’d probably finish the whole thing, if she let him stop talking long enough. “Considering some of the other stuff you’ve made, you should be happy I’m not calling a dentist.”

“The point isn’t just to not cause physical harm,” she grits out, still not eating. “It’s supposed to display the sort of skills that would make me…girlfriend material.”

Inomata slumps, hair falling forward in a solid black sheet, hiding her face like she’s that girl from Ringu. Dejected, that’s how she looks. Mortified too, knowing her. Completely hopeless.

It doesn’t fit on her. Same way that case of nerves didn’t in his house, making her look all coltish and lost, like some little kid, and—

And maybe there is something wrong with this bento after all, since he gets that weird pit in his stomach again, the kind that can’t be filled with more rice and a hefty dose of curry bread. His mouth rumples, wrinkling as the words shove themselves out between his teeth. “It’s not bad.”

Her head rolls toward him across her shoulders, fixing him with a flat stare. “Do you want to date me now?”

Ha. Now that's fucking funny. “It’d take more than a bento to do that.”

“That’s what I thought.” She sighs, straightening her spine along with her skirt. Only one of them needs it. “Well, if there’s something you’d actually like to eat, just make a note of it somewhere on the rubric. I won’t make any promises, but…I can take it into consideration.”

He glances up at her, fingers stiff where they settle against the chopsticks. “So this what we’re doing now? Bento?”

Her palms smooth over her already pristine pleats. “It seems the most obvious skill for improvement. Yagi-san said—”

“Yagi.” He nearly spits out the fish in his mouth. “You’re taking advice from that pervert?”

Red flares over her cheeks, splotchy and uneven, but her shoulders take on a defensive hike. “Well, I wouldn’t be, if someone had given me something else to go off of. But if there’s anyone who knows what a bento should be like…”

It would be the prince of third year, who had his pick. “Why are you so worried about what he thinks anyway? Shouldn’t you be making stuff Kashima likes?”

“Well, ideally— yes. But…” Her shoulders twitch, a flinch rather than a shrug. “It’s not as if I have a natural way to ask. We don’t…hang out outside of school hours.”

“Does anybody?” he grunts, so dry he nearly scorches his mouth. But she glances up at him, all reproachful, like she doesn’t know if he’s teasing her or Kashima, and there it is, that stupid knot again, lodged right in his gut. “Listen. We’re going to a movie this weekend.”

Inomata glances up at him, brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“The guys. All of us together.” There’s an itch between his shoulders he can only scratch with a shrug. “Kashima’s coming too.”

Or at least he will be, once Kamitani’s done with him.

“Oh.” Her head tilts, wary. “That’s…nice?”

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “What I’m trying to say is: it’d probably be fine if you came.”

“What?” She’s all eyes when she blinks, mouth falling slack. “You mean…really? And you wouldn’t mind?”

“Yeah.” He sets the chopsticks over the empty tin. “It’s fine or whatever.”

“Real—?”

“I said it’s fine, didn’t I?” he snaps. “Besides, I owe you for the lunch.”

“But…” Her mouth works, rounding over a half dozen words before she sits back, hands pressed flat against her untouched bento. “All right. Sure. I think I could make that work.”

She spares him the smallest, shyest glance. “T-thank—”

“Shut up,” he grunts. “Just eat your damn food already.”

*

“I-I don’t know.” Kashima’s pale when they finally corner him before homeroom, eyes darting all over like he’s looking for an exit. “I-I might have to look after Kotaro that day.”

“Kashima,” Saginuma groans, hands slapping to his face. “Come on. The headmistress can’t spare you for a day?”

“I mean, sure, but really…i-it’s fine.” He puts on that shaky little smile of his, and Kamitani knows: if he looked under the kid’s desk, his knees would be quivering. “B-besides, it’s not like those sorts of movies are, you know…my thing, really…”

Kamitani had assumed it would be him who had to lean in, him who had to put the nail in the coffin, but instead it’s Ebizawa, brows pitched to his hairline as he asked, “Oh, so you’re scared?”

“W-what? No.” He can’t tell whether Kashima is shaking his head or just having full body tremors. “I’d be perfectly happy to go, if it wasn’t for—”

“So you’re coming?” Kamitani doesn’t even flinch when the kid turns that betrayed look his way. He’ll thank him later. Probably. “The hag’s gonna have to get used to not having you around anyway. She won’t have all this free labor when you’ve got entrance exams.”

Or after, but he knows better than to say that. He’s not going to be the one that gets Kashima to chicken out of college just because it might be more than two doors down from his brother.

“I-I suppose so.” The kid straightens, nodding. “I’ll, ah, see what I can’t work out.”

“Hell yes!” Usokawa whoops. “The five of us, hitting the town—”

“About that.” Kamitani strives to keep his voice even as he says, “I’m bringing someone with me.”

Saginuma blinks. “Yeah, sure, man. Whatever. The more the merrier.”

“No problem at all!” Usokawa adds, as if he has any bearing on the answer. “Anyone you bring is sure to be cool!”

“Yeah.” Kamitani smothers a grimace. “We’ll see about that.”

[gofancyninjaworld]

(Almost) Everything You Need To Know About Pro-Hero Pay and Conditions in One Picture

This is the home of the second-ranked pro-hero, a much-lauded, hard-working hero and the de facto mainstay of the Hero Association:

I wasn't expecting a mansion but *this*?

Not only is it nothing much to look at, but she seems to share it with her sister.

This is as good as it gets. Want more? See below the cut.

Wherever those billions are going, it's not to the pockets of the heroes who risk their lives. We knew that heroes weren't well paid, at least at Class C, and that the Hero Association leverages the fact that it's a non-profit to shame heroes into not complaining. I'm remembering the shock Sonic had when he impersonated Saitama and discovered how little the dude was getting paid (Majin Drama CD 4). He just couldn't understand how anyone would risk so much for so little reward. On the good side, it did mean that Sonic stopped harassing Saitama while the latter was working.

Looks like the shitty pay goes all the way to the top.

This definitely adds a lot of context to individuals' decisions. A few to note.

It makes a lot more sense of why so many A-Class heroes have been moving into headquarters. The difference that not having to pay rent makes is large enough to be compelling. To the detriment of everyone who has lost their neighbourhood A-Class hero, but these individual choices are hard to fight.

Flashy Flash's remark about the mercenaries really resonates here. If money motivates you, this is definitely not a job for you. At any level.

It positively punishes anyone with caring responsibilities. Metal Bat drops everything to go pick Zenko up at the end of the school day? Why? It's not because he doesn't take his hero work seriously -- quite simply, he can't afford to hire a nanny!

It brings into sharper focus why, although Genos has come to accept being a hero, he treats the Hero Association like it's an expensive, vicious summer training camp -- because it's pure charity. His pay doesn't even begin to touch the sides of the costs of his hero work. As soon as he gets what he came for, he's gone. One can only donate for so long.

Along the lines of the numbers just not adding up, it makes a lot more sense of why Drive Knight is so careful about his engagements and tries to make sure that he gets something out of his efforts. Altruism is all very well but broken parts cost money.

Suiryu may have turned over a new leaf, but with pay as atrocious as it is, his love of money is probably going to keep him looking for alternative ways to be a hero. I hope we get to see the shock on his face when he finds out that, no, A-Class heroes aren't paid well. I think he's going to be horrified all over again to find that Sneck and Max put their lives on the line to help him for a sum that he wouldn't get out of bed for.

Altruism is all very well but baby has standards he's accustomed to

Hero work has been treated as a prestige job: one where the realities may be awful, but the social cachet makes it desirable anyway. We can't quantify it, but the awful pay in itself must contribute to why the Hero Association is always recruiting as good people find that they care, but just can't make the numbers add up.

It's a shame. Nobody needs heroes to live like sports stars, but of all the things the public would like to see, having pro-heroes at least have dignity across the board would be welcome, and no one would mind if at the higher levels the heroes can have nice things.

Can you say things are ripe for a shake up? I sure can!

[crowfeatherquill]

One Soul the Price of Seven Thousand

Tathlyn is only vaguely aware of what’s happening behind him with Cazador’s sarcophagus as he crosses the blood-drenched battlefield in a haze of shock and exhaustion. He hears the sounds of stone on stone, and the familiar timbre of Astarion’s voice, raised and harsh in agitation over something, but he can’t make out the words. He’s too focused on the rent and bloody bodies of his dearest friend and his…well, his something. He’s not really sure what he is to Halsin, nor whether he’s really in a position to have him in the way he wants.

The sight of his gorey corpse, mutilated by ghoul and werewolf claws, sits no lighter for Tathlyn’s indecision.

He crouches down, ready to heave Halsin over his shoulders and attempt to lift him -- and finds that his legs fail under the weight. He cannot carry his belongings and a body. At least not one as large as Halsin. His attempts to move Karlach are much the same. It’s not until Astarion addresses him directly that the pitched battle happening mere feet away comes back into focus.

“I can do this,” Astarion says, and they are the first clear words Tathlyn has heard since pitching Cazador over the edge of the ritual platform and into the abyss below, “but I need your help.”

For a long, heart-stopped moment, Tathlyn is struck dumb. He remains where he is, crouched, slick with the blood of too many loved ones to have fallen in one day let alone only an hour, blinking in confusion as what Astarion means sinks in. After all this, he’s still considering going through with it. Taking Cazador’s place in the ascension and becoming…whatever that makes him. Carving out everything that Tathlyn has come to love for the opportunity to live free of fear.

When the words fall out of his mouth, they sound the same way he feels. Hollow. Numb.

“I’m…not going to help you kill all these people.”

Astarion alights with rage. Simmers with it.

“These ‘people’ died years ago, trust me on that. All that’s left are feral spawn, desperate for blood.”

Something tries to stir the embers in Tathlyn’s chest into a feeling -- indignance, perhaps, not on behalf of the spawn he barely knows, but because of what Astarion is saying about himself without seeming to realize -- but they’re burning too low to be roused. All he can manage is to sigh and purse his lips.

Astarion seems perfectly content to fill the silence.

“Think about it. If we release them, how many people will they kill? Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? They’d have to die anyway, it’s the only moral thing to do. If I complete this ritual, it keeps them out of the streets and puts them to good use. I’d be able to help you save the city -- really help you! And…and I’d be free.” His voice descends into that tender, quiet place it only goes when he’s trying to get something he wants. “Isn’t that what you want?”

Tathlyn lets what little of Karlach’s weight he was able to bear fall from his shoulders as he rises, and steps carefully away from the bodies. He draws as close to Astarion as he was the night he found him looking into an empty mirror and does not let it show on his face how much it hurts to see Astarion pull away.

He looks as close as his lover will let him -- digs deep, trying to glean anything that will tell him where this obsession with power at the expense of anything Astarion could still claim as a soul is welling from. What he finds stuns and softens him in equal measure.

Astarion is afraid, yes. That much Tathlyn expected. But there is an absent, hungry edge to him as well that Tathlyn hasn’t seen in weeks. He tries to put himself in Astarion’s place -- to understand -- and it makes his heart ache to realize what he’s seeing.

The whole room reeks of blood and thrums with power, and Astarion is standing on the precipice -- it would appear to him -- of a life free of every burden he has carried these past two centuries. It dawns on Tathlyn that this temptation would prove impossible for many people to resist. That this is the first time since escaping Cazador’s clutches that a burden so heavy has been handed to Astarion. And most importantly, that despite all appearances, Astarion is…fighting it.

Tathlyn’s lover is looking to him for help, yes, but not in the way that he says. He does not want permission to do this awful thing. He wants a hand in being stopped. And Tathlyn, bloodied as they are, has two.

He steps forward again, closing the distance before Astarion has the opportunity to make more, and takes his face in his hands, leaving more streaks of red on those pale, delicate cheeks.

“Stars…look at me.”

It takes time and effort for Astarion to tear his eyes away from Cazador, but when he does, they are wild, wanting, and wet with unshed tears.

“I want you to live a life you’re proud of,” Tathlyn says, in the steadiest tone he can manage, “You can’t be proud of this.”

Astarion watches him for a long time, pinned in place by Tathlyn’s hands on his face. Tathlyn, meanwhile, watches Astarion come back to himself in waves.

Eventually, he speaks, breathless, like coming out of a dream.

“You- you’re right. I can be better than him.” He starts to pull away, turning back to focus on Cazador, and Tathlyn lets him go. “But I’m not above enjoying this.”

Cazador dies violently. Astarion kills him, howling two hundred years of pain into the echoing cavern. He ends up on his knees, drenched in Cazador’s blood as well as his own, breathless, bruised, and still sobbing, and Tathlyn feels his heart break all over again. He cannot help himself but to go to his love -- to kneel in the rapidly-cooling pool of ancient blood beside him and pull him in against his side.

He pulls Astarion to safety, wraps him in his arms, and lets him cry into his neck and shoulder until all that is left is trembling and silence.

He almost forgets Astarion’s siblings until the remnants of the ritual fully fade and suddenly they are surrounded and once again asked to choose -- to decide the fate of seven thousand lives, and of every life those seven thousand will touch.

Tathlyn, exhausted of death and pain, urges to let them go and watches Astarion hand them their freedom and tell them it is up to them whether they seize it or hang themselves with it. He directs them to the Underdark -- to relative safety away from the sun and away from the city -- and somewhere underneath the shock, Tathlyn finds that he’s excited to see what they build there. Much as he loves his home, if there’s one thing it lacks, it’s voluntary fresh blood.

Perhaps, he thinks, for the first time in his life, something new will grow in those caverns. Something that wants to be there.

Astarion returns to his side as they go -- presses his face into Tathlyn’s neck and twines his arms around Tathlyn’s middle, and Tathlyn holds him firm.

“Let’s…let’s just go,” he says, barely a whisper, “This place reeks of death and I…want to feel alive again.”

There are still Halsin and Karlach’s bodies to think of. Still the Gur to report back to -- to explain what happened to their children, and hope for their understanding of the choices made. But…for now, there isn’t anything that Tathlyn thinks he’d like more. They’ll handle what comes next one step at a time, and a breath of fresh, free air sounds like as good a first step as any he’s ever heard.

[violetshideout]

Chiluc high school au is living in my head rent free

I like them being rivals to lovers but like rivals who care about each other. So like Diluc worries about things like studying and keeping up a proper image. Also since they are high school students in a modern era school pressure SUCKS. Staying up late doing schoolwork to be the best.

Childe being smart while I feel like he does study. I feel like he’d take pride in how he doesn’t study often and instead does more focus on physical classes. Like PE or some sort of sport. Yes I like Jock Childe but not the typical muscle head player. More like maybe gymnast or softball kind of jock. Does that make sense? Oh well.

So like maybe since they are young they are more playful in their rivalry. Diluc being pre-Crepus’s death is a bit more carefree. Childe being the kid who dares diluc into being even more carefree. Doing things like getting him to sneak out or ditch the classes with teachers who hate him. Diluc thinks it’s a rivalry over grades and stuff.

Childe at first thinks Diluc is pretty but a bit uptight with his grades. After all he only ever saw him studying. Then he witnessed diluc sneaking out of his house and decided he was in love. Childe taking him to his favorite hideout spots. Maybe even teaching Diluc he doesn’t need to be the best to be loved.

Realizing now this isn’t much of rivals to lovers. Uh whoops. Well I can’t really write them like that yet. But use your imagination for that part.

Older brother Kaeya trying to keep Childe away from his precious baby brother. Why? Cause Diluc is a smart and talented person. While Childe is smart and too carefree for Kaeya’s liking. Diluc however doesn’t want to be babied so he sneaks out and secretly starts dating Childe anyways.

Ooo I imagine them being pretty good at hiding their relationship until they get to college. Going to the same college then BAM all handsie and shit. In the way like they are always hold hands or hanging off one another.

Only that’s as far as it goes. No kissing or PDA like that since that’s for private spaces. Childe is fully okay with that. Haha Kaeya getting the shock of his life when he finally has to admit that Childe makes Diluc happy. Maybe they lost contact after Diluc left for college or something Dunno about that part yet. Don’t want to make ragbros angst butttt I personally imagine Kaeya just trying to keep people away from diluc thinking it was for the best. Instead it causes this sort of rift when he starts dating Childe and Kaeya didn’t approve at first or something.

High school sweethearts is just so UGH.

[rainiishowers]

May I please ask for Mammon angst please, where he went missing for years and when the bros find him he has family but when his family ask if he knows them he says no he never meet them please

Summary: After searching for the Avatar of Greed for years, the brothers find out where Mammon is, but something unexpected greets them.. Genre: Angst -----

Mammon often ran away from home only to be back not long after. The only time him doing this was remotely worrying when it had been a few days, with him only coming back because he lost his DDD charger.  However, one night, after a huge fight, Mammon swore to his brothers that he would leave and never return, but at the time the brothers took it as a joke. Next day, Beel went to Mammon’s room, only to find out that some of his older brother’s belongings were missing. Obviously, he went to tell the others, and no one besides Belphie believed Beel until they went to see for themselves.  Lucifer messaged Diavolo and Barbatos, asking if they’ve seen or heard from Mammon, but they didn’t. When he messaged the Purgatory Hall Trio, they say they haven’t either. 

Now, it’s been years since the Avatar of Greed left and everyone was handling it in different ways, but it was safe to say that the family crumbled somewhat.  It was a surprise when Satan called a house meeting saying it was urgent. When everyone did get to the living room, Satan made the announcement. “Solomon had informed me that a friend of his found someone that very much resembled Mammon up in the human world.” There were many reactions, ones of worry for Mammon and confusion to why he would be in the human world. Lucifer calmed everyone down before turning to the blond.  “Do you have any other information?” “There is a rough idea of where he’s staying now, but it doesn’t seem to be an apartment neighborhood.” “Suppose he’s renting a house?” Asmo suggests.  “Or he found a new family.” Belphie mutters, distaste in his voice. Clearly, no one liked that thought, as there was a minute of silence before Lucifer cleared his throat. “Satan, ask Solomon for the specifics.” “Already did.” Satan pulls out his DDD. “Good. Let’s get going than.” ---- Now in the human world, in the apartment neighborhood Solomon’s friend has supposedly marked down where Mammon lived. Well, the brothers still didn’t know if this was a Mammon lookalike or actually him, but they were all very desperate to bring him back to the Devildom. Satan was taking the lead, with Asmo beside him and Levi not too far behind. The twins were stalling behind but still in front of Lucifer, who was keeping an eye on his brothers.  What had him confused was why Mammon actually meant the whole “not coming back” thing, and for years at that! “You guys, look!!” Lucifer looks up at where Levi was pointing, and there he was.. That familiar head of white hair and tan skin, outside a house with a much younger girl.  “Who is that?” Belphie asks. No one had an answer, but as they all got closer, two other, much more older looking people came out. As Mammon goes to greet them, he notices the brothers out of the corner of his eye. Suddenly, the brothers, aside from Lucifer, all ran to meet up with him, forcing Lucifer to give chase.  Mammon notices the brothers running over and his face hardened, but before he could tell the three to get inside, they caught up. “Mammon! There you are!” The young girl looks up at him, tilting her head and the older two walk over. “Mams, do you know them?” The young girl pointed at the brothers. Mammon cut off any of them saying anything.  “No, I don’t.” The brothers stood in shock as the former brother told them he’ll handle these people and to get ready for movie night in the backyard. When the three left, Mammon turned to them, a wrath filled gaze. “What the fuck are you doing here?!” He yells, something very uncharacteristic of him. He would never yell at the brothers with such a hateful look..  Satan steps forward, taking responsibility for this.  “Solomon’s friend found you, and we thought we could come to patch things up.” Mammon lets out a humorless laugh, full of bitterness.  “There is nothing to patch up. It’s been years.” “But we never stopped looking for you!” Levi steps forward. “Well congratulations, you found me.” Mammon retorts. “But now, you lot are nothing but strangers to me.” That was that.  Mammon walks off, ending the conversation there. They all stood paralyzed by the situation of what just happened. Until Lucifer clears his throat. “Let’s go home.. We can’t convince him to come back.”

[atlas-library]

okay so i just wanna ramble about my inuokko fic, raw, since i'm taking years to write anything anyway :D

spoilers kinda?? below the cut?? i'm brainstorming half of it ngl so yeah idk open it at your own risk

the premise is basically this: this is set in japan, in our current decade. yuuta is financially poor, rents a lame apartment and still gets evicted from it. despite the law saying you need to give a 6-month notice, no one would apparently care about poor people (coughs am i being smooth enough with the social commentary coughs), so yuuta is given two weeks to find a new job and a new place to live. keep in mind, yuuta couldn't afford high school (you need to pay for high school in japan), his mom is clearly nowhere to be seen, and he always fails his job interviews.

ofc there's also an entire thing going on with food and sexual desire. yuuta struggles with both, they're linked to the entire story since food is actually used as a metaphor for other topics. ANYWAY this is so messy, i'm not trying to make it sound perfect so whatever.

yuuta does find a job!! he's going to be part of the cleaning staff at the sugawara palace, which is heavily inspired from the palais garnier in france: basically a school for opera singers, actors and ballet dancers, that also hosts actual shows. yuuta can have his own room at the palace, although hidden from the students, and that's just too good of an opportunity to pass on.

during his first day at work, yuuta is ignored by the students and understands there's a world between him and them. there also seems to be some hierarchy going on, but he doesn't try to learn about it. near the end of his shift, when there's only one room left to clean, he sees people inside and checks by the window: it's two persons, fucking inside the room. yuuta is shocked but can't look away; he locks eyes with the person on the receiving end. a violet gaze.

yuuta then realises that if he can see the person's eye colour, it means the person can also see him... and doesn't seem to mind, on the contrary. still, yuuta runs away to another corridor, and eventually hides until they're finished because he doesn't want to lose his job because he didn't clean a room. when he goes back inside the room, he finds a ticket with a qr code on a table. a party, in less than a week.

yuuta shoves it in his pocket, still haunted by the violet gaze.

the violet gaze is obviously toge's. toge and the main cast all have nicknames, since they are/were students at the palace and are/were part of the hierarchy going on.

naoya, former acting student and now toge's sponsor/manager. his nickname is mildew. he gets called like this because of his hair... and he isn't well-liked.

mei mei, former ballet student and now uraume's manager (uraume switched managers). her nickname is midas. she turns everything she touches to gold, a reference to how she made uraume popular again after their original fall.

uraume, former opera student and now one of the most popular and successful opera singers of this generation. their nickname is porcelain, because of their alabaster skin and their doll-like features. still, they're ruthless.

maki, ballet student in her 2nd year, and toge's friend. her nickname is hellhound because of how angry she always is. she's also seen as toge's guarddog.

nobara, opera student in her 1st year. she just arrived at the palace, from the countryside. she got given the nickname voodoo, mostly because she gives bad luck to people (whether on purpose or not).

noritoshi, opera student in his 3rd year. he was originally first on the podium, but toge dethroned him last year (noritoshi was his self-proclaimed mentor). his nickname was icarus, but after toge dethroned him he became vulture.

toge, opera student in his 2nd year. he dethroned noritoshi in his first year, and earned his nickname that way. his nickname is cannibal.

yuuta doesn't have a nickname at first, but toge quickly "claims" him (<- makes him his new pet/distraction), and refers to him as his new "morsel". thus, yuuta's nickname: morsel.

don't expect toge to be kind LOL the setting of the fic basically makes everyone a little bit terrible.

if i weren't lowkey scared of plagiarism (which is ridiculous since i don't even have a big following haha) i would share some notes from future chapters to show rather than tell toge's presence in the fic... but i guess i'll have to make another post about this.