#so you know read at your own risk and all that jazz

[silverskye13]

I just started reading paladins grace from your recommendation (just as in I've only just finished the first chapter)

INSTANTLY I am intrigued, and I think I can see a bit of how it might've influenced your style? or maybe that's just cause I'm looking for it, who knows. it seems like it has a very interesting world right off the bat.

anyways, thank you for the fic and the book recommendation!

It's definitely influenced my style XD my style fluctuates a lot depending on what I'm reading anyway, and I've reread the SoS books many many times.

The world is definitely very cool! It has an extended universe as well, and if you find yourself liking it, I recommend also giving The Clocktaur Wars and Swordheart a try.

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (the holiday special) r.cameron

[Warnings]soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, NONCON, dd/lg, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, heavy on the somnophilia, ittle editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 1.6k

In which it's your first Christmas Eve with your Daddy, you don't know what you want but Rafe surely does.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You could think of three things that you wanted for Christmas. Colored pencils, glitter lipgloss, and a small stuffed animal for Bunny. You don’t need any more clothes. You’d been with Rafe for over a month, and there were still clothes in your wardrobe that you had not worn yet. Your room was heaven, with the softest sheets and pillows, and Rafe bought you even more playthings each week. 

Your last gift was a diamond bracelet Rafe gave you because of how well you behaved in front of his friend, Barry. He didn’t punish you for sneaking around downstairs. All you had to do was bring him a slice of cake and sit down on Rafe’s lap while the two of them talked about “getting rid of their problem.” 

There were several trees around the house, but the biggest one was in the living room, by the fireplace, and it was at least two times your height. There were at least twenty presents underneath the tree already, wrapped neatly in paper that was decorated with pink snowflakes. In cozy reindeer pajamas, ones Rafe had also purchased, you sat near the tree checking over your letter to Santa. Although you had a feeling Rafe might secretly be Santa, you let a small part of you believe it was real magic. 

Lana helped you write the letter, and now you were adding a few drawings and stickers to really jazz it up. It took you longer to write it than Rafe preferred, it was already Christmas Eve, but if Santa could somehow bring you exactly what you wanted tomorrow, you’d really believe in him. 

“You almost finished, baby?” 

You looked up to see Rafe entering the living room, most likely finished with his work day, “I couldn’t think of anything else to ask for,” You said quietly, remembering how much Rafe encouraged you to ask for absolutely anything. The truth was you never had anything so you didn’t know what to ask for, “I don’t think I need anything else. But I wrote a nice letter for Santa and I thanked him for everything he does. And I made it sparkly.”

Rafe made himself comfortable on the couch and you brought over your letter, “C’mere,” He said, pulling your legs over his lap before wrapping one arm around you, “This is beautiful work, kid. Santa is going to love it.”

You looked up at him, a smile on his face as he read the words over, “What did you ask Santa for, Daddy?”

“Well, since I already have you,” He squeezed you, making your heart leap in your chest, “I asked Santa to make sure that you have the best Christmas. That you’ll love every gift you get and we’ll have a nice, Christmas dinner.”

You smiled back at him, “I wish I could buy you something, Daddy.”

“No need,” Rafe leaned in to kiss the side of your forehead, “I like giving to you, and I have plenty of money for the both of us. Besides, you’re way too little.” 

When Rafe looked at you, he really looked at you. He held your face in his hands, not tight enough to bruise, so you wouldn’t look away. You were still learning not to feel shy under his gaze. You started to understand that you were just like the gifts sitting under the tree. You were Rafe’s gift to himself. He showed his possession of you through his gaze. 

“Your bows are a nice touch,” He complimented, taking notice of the red ribbons tied around your pigtails. Every morning you spent time doing your hair, and you were slowly learning how to do your makeup. When he noticed your efforts, you felt you were fulfilling your purpose, “And I already knew you’d look cute in your pajamas.”

Rafe liked it when you presented yourself a certain way. He liked things to be dainty and soft. He preferred small jewelry over statement pieces. Pastel colors over bright ones. And you should never have on too much makeup. Lipgloss was better than lipstick and concealer over foundation. He wanted you muted but pretty, just like your personality. 

“Thank you,” You batted your lashes. 

Rafe and you continued your cozy evening in the living room. You’d made it through the first two Home Alone movies and were now in the middle of watching The Polar Express. Rafe excused himself to the kitchen for a moment, taking the chance to prepare some hot cocoa for the two of you. 

When Rafe returned to the couch, you were sound asleep, your arms wrapped around Bunny. Quietly, he set down the cups of cocoa on the coffee table, and the thought of waking you up crossed his mind. After all, your drink would get cold, but you seemed like you were resting deeply. 

Gently, Rafe laid down next to you. You didn’t wake; you moaned softly as you turned your head, nuzzling your face into Rafe’s neck. Rafe stayed with you like this, having found a new love in sleeping next to you. He never really enjoyed next to sleeping next to anyone, until you, and he began to designate certain nights of the week where you’d stay with him in his bed. 

Watching you sleep made him think back to when he first brought you home. You still looked as innocent as ever, but there was something else Rafe liked about watching you sleep – he loved seeing you vulnerable. Obviously, you were in a constant state of being vulnerable to Rafe’s every whim and want, but this was different. 

He tested just how deeply you were sleeping, slowly taking the doll from your grasp When you stirred only slightly, Rafe continued, first touching you above your pajamas. Large, ringed fingers felt over your chest. He massaged them, kneading them, and you reacted by pressing yourself closer to him. 

Lips parted, and holding in heavy breathing, Rafe continued his exploration. He was growing harder in his briefs, imagining the look on your face when you fully opened your eyes. He licked one of his fingers and reached into your pajama bottoms and then into your panties. This was exactly why he never wanted you to wear panties to bed; they only got in his way. 

He stroked fingers up and down, feeling between your folds. Feeling the moisture there, he wondered what exactly you’d been dreaming about, “Rafe,” He heard you whisper, although when he looked down at you, your eyes were still closed. Although the stimulation was waking you, Rafe knew you were too tired to fully realize what he was doing. 

Rafe shushed you, still playing between your legs, “Is bed … time?” You mumbled as Rafe pulled his hands from your underwear, bringing his fingers to his lips. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” Rafe whispered, “Keep relaxing, Daddy’s got you.”

Rafe pulled his body from yours, moving off the couch before he gently started to pull down your reindeer bottoms.  Carefully, he removed them from around your ankles before slowly lowering himself down on top of you, “Cold … please,” You mumbled, “Daddyyy.”

“I’ve got you,” Rafe said in response to your whining; as he settled on top of you, you wrapped an arm around his neck, pulling him in like your dolly or a pillow. Meanwhile, Rafe was trying as carefully as he could to free himself from his briefs. He didn’t have to touch himself at all, he was already aching for you.

He didn’t resist anymore, pushing your underwear to the side and then pushing inside of you, his sweet girl. You were tighter, somehow, causing Rafe’s eyes to roll in pleasure, “Rafe,” He heard you, knowing you in a daze. Currently, he felt quite dazed himself. He knew with his size that he’d wake you but he didn’t account for the fact that your body might try to resist, to push him out. It just motivated him to push deeper, “Rafe. Rafe.”

Your voice was sharper now, scared almost, “You’re okay,” He cooed, “You’re …so so good, sweet girl.”

You loosened your grasp on him, and Rafe took the opportunity to see your face. You were adorable in those red bows, he noticed them first, but then he saw your scrunched-up features, a cute wince on your face. It would feel good soon, he knew that, but he certainly enjoyed seeing you resist. 

“What a fussy little girl, huh?” Rafe thrusted slowly, “Acting like you don’t like Daddy’s cock.”

With each thrust, you were trying to gain your composure, but Rafe was relentless. 

One hand, beside your head, he pressed into the couch to hold himself up, and the other, he reached down to play with your clit, “Cum one time for me,” Rafe commanded, although it was the last thing you wanted. He would give it to you anyway, wanting to see it in your face when your own body betrayed you, “One time, and you can go back to sleep.”

Rafe’s thrust was slow but consistently deep. He switched back and forth from focusing on your pleasure and his. It was difficult for him, he could finish so easily with you, but he held out; Rafe knew when you were getting closer just by the look on your face. Your head tilted back as your orgasm spread through you, and Rafe was quickly behind you. 

Rafe caught his breath, still inside of you, and moved his chest closer to yours, “You okay? You did good, Bambi.”

You nodded calmly, “Did I …Did I miss the whole movie?”

Rafe stared, bewildered for a moment, “Uh … no. We can just rewind it, baby,” He grinned, pecking your lips, “And I can just heat up the hot chocolate again.” 

Your eyes widened, “Hot chocolate like in the movie?”

“Just like the movie, my love,” Rafe’s forehead pressed to yours.

He was grateful for the fact that he could give you the perfect first Christmas tomorrow. He was even more grateful for how perfect you were.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

[impishjesters]

I’m devouring the nonsexual intimacy with Jax dawg- oml we eatin good

How would Jax be with an s/o who enjoys leaning on him? I adore physical touch but sometimes if I can’t use my arms it feels like I’m trapped, so it’s nice to just glomp people lmao (s/o is ticklish too- Jax would have a field day with that one)

If you need a little more substance, maybe s/o like randomly serenading Jax in private! Like those old 80s jazz love songs (complete with slow dancing)

Thank you and have a wonderful day/night!

Leaning on one another

warning(s): none unless you count jazz note(s): I joke about it but I actually quite like jazz, maybe not all jazz but it's definitely not the worst type of music. I'm looking at you country music.... A/N: I included a bonus because I thought the idea of cornering this man in his room with jazz music was absolutely hilarious lol

Jax doesn’t have a physical battery per say, but there is definitely a limit to how much he can tolerate at a given time—whether it’s in public or private.

He doesn’t like sitting still for long periods of time and there’s a limit to how vulnerable he’s willing to be at any given time if at all.

So having a s/o that understands this and goes for physical touch like leaning on him or something that’s not inherently seen as romantic and mushy is a win in his book.

Don’t get me wrong, he loves you but it’s a lot and he’s not really used to it. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact you two are dating, that you like him.

He’s all for being leaned on or having you loosely hang off him in public, sometimes regardless of what side of him you’re leaning on, he might lean back.

Little shit might only catch himself though if you can’t hold him/he catches you off guard and/or lose your footing, he’ll make the attempt to stick an arm out and catch you—but whether you crash or not depends on your own reflexes. (he doesn’t make the rules, sorry babe)

If you wanna be held but not feel restricted, as long as he’s not doing anything he’ll let you stand in front of him, lean back, and drape his arms over you—totally not to just lean on you and be an absolute menace.

In fact, that’s probably how he found out you were ticklish—and that knowledge is far too much power in his hands.

Sure he can do it whenever he wants, but he tends to save it for other unsuspecting situations—like if the two of you get into a little spat and you’re not speaking to him—two can play that game.

He won’t completely restrict your arms but he’ll throw his arms around you and tickle you, it doesn’t always work to ease whatever the spat was about.

That said Jax doesn’t do it when the situation is serious and calls for an actual discussion, he knows at least that much when it comes to reading the room. (That and you’ve probably gotten onto him about it at least once before…)

He also may or may not have tickled you to get you up, you don’t need to sleep but you can still lie down and whatnot. And if you aren’t budging? Tickle time baby.

Bonus

Jax isn’t a dancer by any means, so when he opens the door to his room to find you standing there with music that’s—very much not the repetitive cartoony music that usually plays in this hellscape—he’s a little surprised.

The first question out of his mouth is:

“Is that fucking jazz?”

“No, just normal jazz.”

That response gets a good hearty chuckle out of him.

When you try pulling him in for a dance he’s a little nervous though it comes off as looking irritated, he’s uh, never danced to jazz of all things let alone with someone else.

You’re gonna have to take the reigns on this one, regardless of whether you can dance or not, you started this.

Despite the fact it is jazz playing, he enjoys the situation as a whole, your weight leaning on him the subtle holding one another. And the fact it’s in private? He can comfortably(ish) let himself feel a little vulnerable around you with no risk of having an audience.

Regardless of the fact it’s jazz, if you happen to sing along he considers himself impressed and will jokingly (read: obnoxiously) comment how he feels utterly serenaded, completely wooed, absolutely swooning—it goes on until you stop him, please stop him he’ll just keep going.

[flamingpudding]

Fictober23 Prompt: 18 - "We can't do this on our own."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Slight mentions of DannyXBruce ship

A/N: Inspired by the comments and Reblogs of Prompt 17. I advise to read that one first before reading this, also posting this early because I won't have the time to do that tomorrow. Credits for inspiring this continuation go to @charlietheepic7 and @noxcheshire

After the babysitting disaster Dick had sworn Tim and Damian into secrecy about. The bat-sibling had quickly warmed up to the phantom children and invited them several more times to visit them at the manor. Damian had even doubled his efforts in getting along with them, still believing they were his half siblings, despite Bruce having tried to explain to them in private that this wasn't the case.

Of course that didn't mean that Damian wasn't butting heads with them at all, in fact they were only sitting together like this now because Damian and Dan had gotten into a fight about whether or not Phantom was an adequate partner for Bruce. Dan appeared to have taken offense to that in some form and declared that Bruce was the one not suited to be with his Mom.

The fight ended with Dani, five years old little girl Dani, kicking down both Damian and her own brother, before proceeding to sit on Dan while loudly yelling that he was risking their entire plan of setting up their Mom with Uncle Bruce so Auntie Valerie would stop trying to be their Step Mom. Which brought them back to their current situation of the five of them sitting together in the main hang out room.

Dan grumbled inaudible, arms crossed and glaring at the bat children assembled before him. Dani giggled, nudging her big brother's leg. "Don't go nonverbal now!"

"Nonverbal?" Dick couldn't help but question, causing Dan to snarl at him while Dani still smiled very brightly at them.

"Big Brother sometimes only talks in growls and snarls. Auntie Jazz said it's got something to do with what he's been through. Mom says big brother isn't socialized enough yet." The boy only growled, glaring at them while he pulled the little girl into a hug and made her sit between his legs, making Dani giggle once more grinning bridely. The two Phantom children were seated on a loveseat together now in the general hang out room of Wayne Manor. Dick, Tim and Damian sat across from them on the couch.

The bat kids exchanged glances. Bruce can try as he might, there was no hiding the relation he had with the Phantom kids. There were too many things that added to the fact that the kids had to be Damians half siblings.

Damian looked rather disgruntled, arms also crossed as he turned to return Dan's glare with the same intensity. "Father, may have been trying to hide you from us but his attempts at gaining Nightingale favor are just as pathetic as the excuses he has been giving us in regards to our relation."

Tim arched an eyebrow. "I was not even aware that Bruce tried to flirt with Phantom at all."

Dick patted Tims shoulder in mock condolence. "I have seen the Phantom-Batman dynamic since my days as Robin… It was horrible and painful to watch. Jason can attest to that."

"Mom is as dense as a neutron star." Dan muttered looking away from them.

As if realizing something Dani blinked a couple of times before staring wide eyed at Dick and pointing with one hand at him. "You're the menace Robin! You're the one that asked Superman to throw you high into the air so you could do flips! Mom even said that you asked him once if he could phase you halfway through a wall or turn you invisible to scare your rogues!"

Both Tim and Damian stared at their older brother unimpressed.

"I guess that did happen. Well back to topic!" Dick tried to deflect which sort of worked. But more because Tim got curious about something.

"I don't get how you guys know about us but we didn't know about you two at all. Phantom never mentioned either of you before, not even when he came to visit as Danny. Before we were told about him being Phantom." Tim muttered, completely ignoring Dick as he turned his attention to the two kids. The two children in turn exchanged knowing looks.

"Mom and Auntie Jazz were worried that big brother would get PTSD seeing the Justice League. That's why Uncle Bruce and Superman are the only ones who really knew about us." Dani explained looking up at her older brother who suddenly sported a feral grin, showing off suddenly very sharp appearing teeth. "Though Superman learning about us was more a spur of the moment than intentional telling him."

"Mom was so mad at him." Dan mentioned his sharp teeth glinting as he exchanged a feral look with his sister. It sent a shiver down the batkids' back, making them remember that the kid mentioned he had apparently murdered all of them before. The image of little ten years old Dan standing in a sea of blue fire and laughing like a maniac crossed their minds for a brief moment before they pushed the memories of the babysitting disaster into the depths of their minds again. "He would have beat him up if Uncle Bruce didn't stop him. Instead Mom put Supes through the lecture of a lifetime using us as his how-it's-supposed-to-be example."

"Oh and we met big bro J when Frostbite helped with his treatment!" Dani added clapping her hands together all cutely while her brother on the other hand ended up growling. "He still owns me a spar."

"That… explains nothing." Tim retorted, eyes narrowed at the two kids who only shrugged refusing to explain any more than they had.

Damian meanwhile ended up glaring at nothing as he crossed his arms muttering something about punishing Todd for having been in cahoots with his father and keeping his younger siblings from him. Dick smiled, their youngest apparently really like the thought of having two younger siblings of his own now.

"Can we please get back to topic? About these two trying to set up Danny and Bruce?" Dick tried once more, he really wanted to know more about this whole 'we attempted to set our mom up with Bruce' deal the two kids had going on.

"What is there to question, Richard? My half siblings appear to want for my father and their mother to be together." Damian huffed with his attention being on his eldest brother he did not notice the confused look Dani gave the older boy before looking at her own brother only for Dan to sport a mix of a feral and mischievous grin the girl soon returned when a look of understanding crossed her face briefly.

"So are you guys going to help?" Dani looked at them with big baby blue and pleading eyes. Dan gave them a red eyed glare as if daring them to disagree with his sister. "As big brother said Mom is a neutron star! We can't do this on our own. But now that you guys know you can help!"

The three bat-kids exchanged a look, though it appeared as if Damian had already made a decision on that matter the moment he learned that Phantom was the mother of his half siblings. Dick grinned, pulling out his phone. "If we are going to do this then I am calling in the cavalry."

In other words Dick was going to call in all their siblings as back up. They had been discussing making Phantom, aka Danny Nightingale, a more permanent fixture in their lives before after he had helped Jason. Now they had even more reason to do so with two baby siblings added into their lot.

[sofasoap]

At the barbers

Pairing: John Price x F!Medic! Reader (call sign : Chameleon)

Summary: Part of @glitterypirateduck's John Price "O, Captain! Challenge" prompt used : 92: Giving Price a haircut and/or shave

Warning: T-M rating.

A/N: as mention previously in my Little secret series, Reader is from immigrant/non-Caucasian background. I know nothing about military. Thank you @mini-metal for giving me few suggestions and few ideas! *hugs*

Part of the Memory in a Fragrance series Part of Little secret series

Master list

“Love.”

“Hmmm?” 

“Would you mind giving me a hand here please?” John struggled as he tried to lift his injured arm to trim his beard. 

You sighed. “I am only good with surgical knives and scissors.” You took the trimmer off his hand and gently pushed his arm down. “Why not go to a barber?” 

“.... I am not quite comfortable with someone holding a blade to my neck.” 

“And you are comfortable with ME doing it?” you cocked an eyebrow. 

He hummed. “That’s because you are my wife. I trust you with all my life.” he pressed a kiss into your forehead. Wrapping his good arm around you as you sink into his embrace. 

“Well I am flattered by the great Captain Price trusting me with a knife to his throat.” you giggled, “But I really wouldn’t trust myself to trim my own dead ends off, let alone take a risk of destroying your luscious mutton chop.” You could almost feel him rolling his eyes as he mumbled something incoherent.

“How about one of the boys helping you?”

“I don’t trust them either.” he rumbled. “I trust them with my life.. But I wouldn’t trust them NOT destroying my beard. I already heard them plotting to shave my beard off in my sleep a few times.” 

You couldn't help but laugh. “ Well… We gotta think of something. Can’t let you leave your hair and beard go until your arms heal….” 

The strong leathery, lavender and cedarwood, faint hint of cigar smell hits you as soon as the two of you walk into the shop. The old radio playing some jazz music in the background, the old barber sitting on the wooden stool, reading the newspaper. It brings you distant memories. One of those rare happier moments when you were younger…. 

John finally agreed after a bit of coaxing from you to get his hair and beard done by the professional instead of you trying your luck. 

“I will go with you, how about that? And maybe I can learn a few tricks and tips from the professional?” you suggested. 

The barber waved to your husband to sit down on the chair after you explained to him what needs to be done. He was more than happy to teach you how to help John to maintain his pride and joy. 

Price couldn’t hold back his smile as he saw how focused and concentrated you are, pouting and wrinkling your nose as you listened to the barber explaining each step and how to use the tools. It helps to distract him from some strangers working so closely to him with sharp apparatus. The barber even handed over the scissors a few times for you to try out. 

“Stop moving, you are laughing too much.” you mumbled as you tried to trim the extra long strains around the edge of his jaw. “I don’t think you want me to accidentally take a chunk out of your beard, and have the boys laugh at you at work.” “I could always shave all my beard off.” “Oh so you changed your mind? You're definitely going to give them a heart attack and give me a heart break if you do that. So…  Never.” you laughed as you handed the scissors back to the barber. 

“You get to see Lieutenant John Price?” 

“As much as you were a handsome young man back then,I would rather keep that memory in the photos.” You pointed out as you sat back down, letting the professional get back to work. 

You observe your husband’s side profile with a faint smile on your face as the barber finishes off the rest of the trimming and hair cut. Even after years of marriage, you still have a hard time believing, this handsome man is your husband. 

The moment you set your eyes on him, you didn’t think you had much of a chance. The ranks, the personality, the background…. Everything. 

But he chose you. 

“I choose you? I should be thankful you chose me, my love.” he whispered into your ear one night after you confessed your insecurity. Nuzzling his face into your neck. “For bearing my temper…my imperfections.” 

“What do you think?” he looked at your eyes through the mirror as the barber dust the rest of the beard and hair off his shoulder, seeking for approval. 

Moving yourself to stand in front of him, you gently lay your hand on his face, tilting it to the left, and to the right, and finally, giving him a kiss on the lip, enjoying the smell of the aftershave.

“Handsome. And the best mutton chop I have ever seen.”

“You sound like you have seen quite a few in your life.” he chuckled as thank and paid the barber for his service.

“Maybe, maybe not.” you teased him as you wrap your arm around him. “But it’s definitely the mutton chop that always gives me a good time.” you could see his cheek redden under the beard. “Now, it’s not so scary is it? Having someone else to trim your beard for you.” 

“If you come with me again next time.” he squeezed your hand fondly.

“Gladly.”

“Oh what, you mean we missed out a chance of trying to shave his beard off?” “And You will get your mohawk shaved off too if you do that, MacTavish.” 

Thank you @glitterypirateduck for hosting another wonderful event!!!! *hug*

Tag list: @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@homicidal-slvt @mini-metal

@okayyadriana @deadbranch @cumikering @siilvan

@random-thot-generator @random0lover @devcica @nrdmssgs @glitterypirateduck @mmyrrhh

@mistydeyes, @groguspicklejar @roosterr

@gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot, @writeforfandoms @whydoilikewhump @tapioca-marzipan @alypink, @liyanahelena, @phoenixhalliwell

[fernacular]

Could you tell us more about your version of batman? Maybe the batfam too? Boop!

I can try! To be honest I don't have a ton to say, im not the most knowledgeable when it comes to the Lore(tm) and I'm mostly making stuff up with each drawing I do, whatever makes the initial concept or joke work.

So what I have is this:

He's not physically powerful but he has a lot of speed, flexibility and endurance and mostly focuses on avoiding fights and being a good detective, and when a fight is unavoidable he leans a lot on technology and being a pragmatic fighter so he can take people down quick with minimal risk. I don't know much about martial arts but his fighting style is probably similar to Akido?

The Joker is less of a huge villain, I have nothing against the character I just feel like he gets leaned on too much in batman stories, like an overexposure thing. He was a gangster with a gimmick who become a problem every once in a while but he was never Batman's arch nemesis. (That would be two-face, they got the most personal history). After the Jason Todd of it all Bruce stuck him down a stinky hole and no one liked him enough to help him get out.

There's not actually a huge age gap between Bruce and Dick, only about ten years, and the father/son relationship is getting slightly more awkward as time goes on. Like it's one thing for a 22 year old telling a twelve year old what to do, pretty different when it's a 35 year old trying to lecture a 25 year old. Dick respects Bruce immensely but he's getting frustrated with Bruce not seeing them as peers yet, and it's part of why Dick has physically distanced himself. (Some familial relationships improve so much when you live in different cities)

He's in an on-and-off again relationship with Selina, who has her own apartment but splits her time between it and the Wayne manor when they're on, and sometimes even off (Alfred usually let's her in regardless, when she feels like using the front door). They're just two very independent people who do love each other but every so often need their space and don't know how to communicate that constructively.

What else what else... Babs is Oracle but her spine was injured in a different way, probably while kicking ass and saving lives.

Bruce is better friends with Diana than he is Clark because Clark has a little bit of a country chip on his shoulder when it comes to wealthy property owners and Bruce isn't jazzed about the press. Its getting better with time though!

Bruce is very good at masking (I mean, clearly, he has to fool everyone with Brucie after all) but his relaxed affect is very blunt and not outwardly emotional. This does not mean he's always brooding or overly serious, he just has resting bitch face and his sense of humor is very dry. His family can read him pretty well but most other people just assume he's perpetually pissed.

Uuuuh thats all I can think of off the top of my head, hope you like it!

Also boop

[lesuccube]

➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ᴄʜᴀꜱɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴅᴏᴡꜱ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — after two months of radio silence and he suddenly comes back to your life but he's not alone .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — angst bug [ read at your own risk ! ]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 4.3k

i'm doing good, i'm on some new shit

been saying "yes" instead of "no"

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn't though

it's been two months since you last saw steven. two whole months of leaving all your texts on read, missed all your calls, two months since he said and promised to go stargazing with you for your birthday. the celebration passed with no sight of him, making you blow your candles out by yourself in the middle of the park you two frequented under the light of the stars. now you and steven aren't dating. you didn't put a label on your relationship, haven't really spoken about it but you know there was something between you, a spark, an unspoken chemistry. now it seems like it's only you who thought so.

the taxi you hailed was a friendly old man, who played some jazz music on low volume while also chatting to you about his granddaughter. you indulge his friendliness, making small talk here and there but throughout the ride you had stayed silent, head leaning against the window as you watched the bleak scenery of london pass you by.

until you pass by a familiar street, a small waiting shed where you and steven would wait with giggles having run there in hopes the bus hasn't arrived yet whenever you stay over. you spy a mop of curly hair. it had you sitting straight in your seat and the car blocking your view made you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of your friend-but-not-really-friend steven. the vehicle passed by after a second, but to your dismay, it wasn't him.

you let out a quiet sigh of disappointment as you sink back to your seat. if the driver had noticed your strange actions, he made no comment about it.

i hit the ground running each night

i hit the sunday matineé

you know the greatest films of all time were never made

today was a cloudy sunday evening. it was half past five and the streets were slowly beginning to fill up with tourists and people wishing to spend a quiet evening out and about london's cobble streets. many, if not most, of them can be seen filling pubs and bars that littered the main street. your cab slowly comes to a halt, stopping in front of a quaint yet lively bar, the faint noise of laughter and a live band playing can be heard through the closed doors, the large windows showcasing patrons enjoying their drinks with their chosen company, talking amongst themselves, enjoying themselves. somehow, you envy them a little.

"this is your stop miss." the old cabbie smiles as he turns his head a little to face you. you hand him a 50 pound note with a smile of your own, "keep the change." you told him as you grabbed the strap of the guitar case next to you. you exit the cab, waving goodbye to the kind cabbie as he drives off.

your fingers tighten their hold to the guitar case as a chilly autumn breeze nips at your nose, other hand holding the lapels of your white denim jacket, the sleeves nearly consuming your fingertips. it was a couple of sizes too big for you but you always insist on wearing it. a little something you stole from steven's wardrobe, not that he minded. you clutch the fabric a little too tight to yourself, one of the few things you kept that reminded you of steven in his absence.

you walk through a dimly lit alleyway, entering the bar through its backdoor hidden within the building's gray bricks. warmth floods you as you step inside the staff/break room, greeting the guard stationed at the corner with a quiet 'good evening' as you walk past him before you slip past the red curtain that separates the small break room from the bar itself.

cozy booths covered most of the floor, the bar on one corner of the building and a stage at the other where a band was casually playing.

your boss, a burly woman with a passion for alcohol, waved at you from her spot behind the counter, tending orders of her regular customers that sat in front of her. you wave back with a smile before climbing up the stage, speaking softly with the members up there about your performance tonight. you talked briefly with them as you kneeled to open the case protecting your guitar, stamps and random stickers littering its shiny brown body, a singular name inked with permanent marker near its neck in neat letters. steven.

usually the small writing makes you smile before you begin performing, today though, it does nothing but tug at your heartstrings painfully and force you to tear your eyes away from it. you sit at the tall chair on the stage, one foot up on the wooden step to rest the weight of your guitar's body on your thigh, stationing yourself in front of the microphone placed front and center of the round platform.

i guess you never know, never know

and if you wanted me, you really should've showed

and if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

and it's alright now

"good evening ladies and gentlemen. happy sunday to you all. i hope you're enjoying yourselves tonight but let's liven it up a bit more, yeah?"

the night rolls by like clockwork, you sing and strum your guitar to requests made by the customers tonight. it stays like that for a few hours until the clock strikes 10. the bar has filled up quickly with patrons having to share booths with each other, the small space in front of the stage is filled with drunk people singing along to the songs as they place their tips on the small jar next to the mic.

you smile at them with ease, the music and melodies taking your mind off of your missing friend-but-not-really-friend.

"okay, what do you guys suggest we play next?" one patron yells out the 1 by taylor swift, female by the sound of it to which you nod, signaling the band behind you to ready themselves. "ooh i like that suggestion, hope you guys don't mind if i pour my feelings out to the song yeah? to all those whose heart long for another, those that wonder what could have been... i hope you find some comfort tonight because you're not alone."

the pianist and drummer nod to each other, tapping the drumsticks together three times before the keyboard begins to play with its signature opening, quickly followed by the strum of your guitar and the quiet beats of the drum.

the door jingles open but you don't notice the sound over the music and the ladies inside the bar singing along. two new customers find an empty corner booth for themselves to enjoy, the female opting to order for her and her company by the bar. once she's out of sight, dark eyes like molten chocolate find your form on stage, singing happily alongside the small crowd in front of you, easing easily to the chorus of the song.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

if you would've been the one

"give me the body marc. please." steven pleads desperately from the reflection of the window beside marc, the latter sighs, well aware as to why his alter is acting that way before surrendering the body to steven. eyes rolling to the back of his head for a second before a small gasp escapes his lips. steven's in control now.

for once, he's glad nobody really pays him any mind, even in the crowded bar. he had to beg marc to come here as soon as they came back from egypt, having disappeared without any word after getting sacked from his job at the museum.

it wasn't that he forgot about you, no, but between stopping an ancient egyptian god from being released to the world, being shot at and dying, learning about himself and marc and layla (he still feels bad for kissing her because he likes you a lot), he simply didn't have the time to. now here he was, after two months of complete radio silence, watching you sing from his corner of the bar.

he wants to tell you that he's here, talk your ear off about all that's happened to him but he was gone for some time, feeling unsure on how you'd react if he makes himself known.

sure you've known each other for some time now, you two were friends, best friends even although steven desperately wanted more. he's never admitted it though, happy to stay as friends with you if it meant keeping you by his side, too afraid that if he confesses, you might leave him to be by his lonesome self once again. steven can't handle that, he doesn't want to be alone again.

he wants to be selfish but he's scared it might drive you away, even more so after the stunt he'd pull for seemingly ghosting you. layla returns to their seat with two pints of beer in hand. she was about to call out to her husband until she takes note of his posture.

hunched shoulders as if trying to make himself small, the nervous bounce of his leg as he runs a hand through his slicked back hair causing a few curls to fall in front of his face. she sees his eyes, wide and openly staring at the lady performing on the stage, longing lingering within those earthy eyes with every passing second. "steven?" she calls as she set their drinks down on the table and taking a seat at the chair beside him, "are you okay?"

it was a simple question. at first he nods, mumbling a small 'yeah' before pausing and then shaking his head. "actually no, no i'm not okay layla." steven sighs, lowering his gaze to the floor before flickering towards her.

"i'm the farthest thing from okay because i might have just missed out on my only chance of asking out the girl of my dreams for, oh i don't know, dropping off the face of the planet around the same time of her birthday that i planned to take her out and celebrate only to get swept up with the whole khonshu and ammit business halfway across the globe?"

steven was being sarcastic but he was also speaking the truth. he had initially intended to ask you out on your birthday, it's why he promised to take you out stargazing, one of his favorite hobbies aside from reading books and learning french.

within the span of two months, layla's become fond of her husband's alter. it's not the same affection she pours towards marc, it was more like that you'd show to a younger brother. she takes his hands in his own, giving them a reassuring squeeze as she flashes him a smile. "you can't possibly know that steven, not until you try."

i have this dream you're doing cool shit

having adventures on your own

you meet some woman on the internet and take her home

as the song enters the second verse, your eyes sweep over the bar, finding familiar faces in the crowd until you see him. in the corner booth by the window is steven's familiar slumped form but he wasn't alone. no. beside him sat a pretty woman, voluminous dark curls and tan skin. her smaller hands curled around his own atop the table. of course. so this was why he's suddenly cut off contact with you, he's settled down with someone else.

for a second you nearly waver and stumble over your words but you were quick to catch and save yourself, tearing your eyes away from the couple.

you feel an onslaught of emotions wash over your already aching heart, willing yourself to keep it together until the end of the song. how foolish, you think to yourself, how foolish of you to think that what you had with steven ran deeper than just friendship. you turn your attention back to the crowd, masking your hurt as you put on a show for them. and try as you might, your eyes keep going back to steven and the woman and each time you look, the more your heart cracks and falls apart.

we never painted by the numbers, baby

but we were making it count

you know the greatest loves of all time are over now

maybe you should have told him sooner, told him all about the feelings your heart carried for him but now there's no chance because how can you possibly compare to her? she was pretty, you can tell even from where you stood. you feel a little sick to your stomach.

"i don't know layla, i'm already a proper prick for not even sending her one message for two months. two whole months i didn't contact her and tell her i was fine or even say how sorry i was for ditching her on her birthday of all days." steven sighed, exasperated and tired as he pulls his hands back from her grasp, running them down his face. he's so disappointed of himself.

he doesn't know how he can ever make it up to you. "well, you can always apologize to her first." layla gives him a smile, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "i know it's hard considering you can't tell her anything about what happened in egypt but it's worth a shot."

he shook his head, tears stinging the back of his eyes. "no layla. you of all people should know how it feels when someone you love completely cuts off any sort of contact with you for months, keeping you in the dark for god knows how long about who knows what. isn't that what happened with you and marc before i found his phone and called you?"

steven's eyes were a mix of serious, hurt and regret as he looks at layla, "it's not fair to her, keeping quiet about why and what happened during those two months. i already broke a promise, i don't want to break her heart too."

i guess you never know, never know

and it's another day waking up alone

your eyes follow their every movement, each touch and each look they share stabs another dagger into your already bleeding heart but you can't look away.

maybe it was some form of self-punishment that you're so unable to take your eyes off them, reminding yourself that you've lost to someone better, prettier, someone who steven was much more comfortable to be with. your voice wobbles but doesn't break, the same way your heart shatters but you remain standing. how foolish, you scold yourself once more, how foolish of you to think you ever even had a chance.

but we were something, don't you think so?

roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

and if my wishes came true

it would've been you

in my defense, i have none

for never leaving well enough alone

but it would've been fun

your fingers grip the neck of your guitar tighter, knuckles turning white with the pressure as his head turns towards you, your eyes meeting. you see his eyes widen and you can feel your own doing the same but you can't look away. god, why won't you just look away?

steven feels his heart rate pick up as soon as he sees those eyes gazing upon him for the first time since they've entered the bar, the first time he's seen them in two months. you've always been beautiful to steven but he can't help but think how gorgeous you are on stage, a singular spotlight shining on you from above.

you look like an angel heaven sent down to earth with that pretty green dress he remembers you bought during spring, your favorite but worn out white doc martens and oh- his white denim jacket he'd let you take from his closet the first time he let you stay the night at his flat. he didn't know you still kept it around, somehow that sends a new wave of guilt to wash over him.

i, i, i persist and resist the temptation to ask you

if one thing had been different

would everything be different today?

you wonder what it would have been like if you had just confessed to him before... would he still end up disappearing or would you be happy, the same way you two end up being whenever you daydreamed of being in a relationship with steven.

thoughts like that made you happy, got you looking forward to the next time you and he set out on another excursion around london in quiet book shops and music stores. now all it does is put a bittersweet smile on your lips, chest tightening as you sing the bridge of the song, eyes finding its way back to him. and he's still looking at you, his deep pools of amber never leaving your form since you two made eye contact.

steven's afraid that if he looks away, you'll disappear.

"she's all i have."

you pour your heart out to the lyrics of the song as you continue to sing, closing your eyes shut as you press your lips against the mic. can he feel it? can he feel how much you're hurting? you hope he does. because ever since steven's arrival, your heart has split into two.

the song comes to an end, patrons clapping and cheering for more, the small tip jar next to you filled to the brim with plenty of notes and coins. as your fingers stop strumming against the strings of your guitar, you put on your best smile as you address the crowd before you.

"thank you guys for listening, really. i'll be taking a break and let these guys," you point to the band behind you with a breathless grin, "take over again. enjoy your evening folks."

we were something, don't you think so?

rosé flowing with your chosen family

and it would've been sweet

if it could've been me

you pack up your guitar hurriedly before getting off the stage, nearly bolting towards the staff room as you sling the leather case over your shoulders. your hands clasp the doorknob, twisting the copper ball as the frigid autumn air greets you once more.

you don't make it ten steps away when steven's breathless form blocks your path. eyes wide and frantic as he pants, curls falling over his eyes, hands curled into fists beside him. "please wait... give me a chance to explain!"

as it turns out, steven had made a run for it soon as he saw you get off stage, nearly running over bar-goers as he weaved through the crowd and exiting the front door, hoping he wasn't too late. he probably upset marc by leaving layla on her own but he's confident she can handle herself.

he takes notes of your glassy eyes and tense form, making him wish he could reach out and hug you but he can't. he knows better than to make you uncomfortable with him even more. "please." he breathes out almost quietly.

your hands ball into tight fists, nails digging into your palm so harshly you'd break the skin if you applied any more pressure. your lips press into a fine line, refusing to speak in fear that if you do, you'd only break down crying. steven takes your silence as a yes, and he exhales.

taking a step forward, he begins to talk. "i'm sorry. i truly am sorry. for disappearing, for missing out on your birthday, for not letting you know that i was alright, for everything that happened these two months i was gone." when you don't move nor speak, he takes it as a sign to continue.

"i know nothing i say will make this all magically better, i know that but please believe me when i say that i am truly apologetic for going away without prior notice. i know i have a tendency to disappear for a few days, two weeks at most but i've never gone for as long as two months. i can't tell you yet why but please believe me when i say that i did not mean for that to happen."

in my defense, i have none

you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest protectively. "i don't need you to explain anything steven." his name rolls off your tongue for the first time in a while it almost feels foreign. you sniffle, tears threatening to spill over and you wipe them away with the sleeve of your (his) jacket.

"did you know how worried i was? none of my calls or messages were answered, your flat was empty no matter how many times i visit and gus the second almost died!" you rub your temple with a hand, vision blurring with tears no matter how many times you try to wipe them away.

"i called your work only to find out you were fired, hell i nearly reported you missing to the police after the second week passed and you haven't come back!"

you take a deep breath to calm yourself, brows knitted as you look at anywhere but steven standing just a few feet in front of you. "i stayed in your flat at least three times a week waiting for your return, praying to whatever god was listening that you were alright, breathing and alive."

pausing, you finally gain the courage to face him as he too let the tears fall down his face. "i thought you were kidnapped, or worse dead. alone, somewhere i don't know because you can't send me one fucking message that you're okay!" with every word you say, the tone of your voice raises, finally letting out your frustrations and sadness and hurt the last few months have caused you.

"i know i'm just your friend but i thought you'd at least have some decency in not making the people that care for you sick and worried to the bone!"

for digging up the grave another time

steven whimpers but he knows you're right. it's inexcusable how he had never made time to update you, writing a simple text of 'safe, be home soon' would take him less than two minutes, hell he can do that in even less but he didn't. he didn't. and in return it had caused you to worry and panic.

his head hangs low in shame, eyes squeezed shut as he lets you take it all out on him. marc was protesting in his head to return the body to him, not wanting steven to feel so.... miserable, although he was one of the biggest reasons why his friendship with you was falling apart. "i'm sorry..."

"i didn't realize i meant so little to you."

it was this one sentence from you that had his head snapping up, waving his hands in front of him as he sputtered, trying to convince you that you meant the world to him.

"n-no! no, no, you mean a lot to me okay? you mean so much to me you wouldn't believe me!" he hears you laugh but there's no humor in it, dejection and defeat hanging over you like a dark cloud. "you're right steven... i don't believe you. because that's not how it felt to me these past two months."

but it would've been fun

he makes a noise, the sound was a mix between a whimper and a cry as he tries to block your path once you begin to move away from him. "please, please believe me! you mean everything to me okay? everything! i love you!"

silence fills the air as you stop in your steps. looking back at him, tears freely flowing down your cheeks as you speak with the softest yet broken voice he'd ever hear from you. "and i love you. i loved you. and if you really feel the same, please just let my heart break in peace."

there's a pregnant pause between you as you take a breath with a shudder, shoulders shaking from trying to contain the sobs that wrack your body.

"i hope... i hope you're happy with her. she looked really beautiful tonight." confusion makes his brows furrowed as he tries to understand what you were saying until he hears marc whisper layla's name.

you'd mistaken layla as his partner, his significant other. although you weren't exactly wrong, you weren't right either. he wanted to scream, tell you that she wasn't who you thought she was and that i was you his heart wanted. it's you and it will always be you. but that heartbroken look on your face makes the words die on his tongue before he even had the chance to say it out loud.

it doesn't suit you, the tears, the frown, it doesn't suit you at all, he thinks to himself. he loves it when you smiled, when you laughed fully and he loved hearing you talk. he loves it when you call his name but now, now he might just never get the chance to hear you say it again.

you were right, he should just let your heart break in peace. it was the least he could do for you after all he's put you through, after breaking your heart. he regrets it, he thinks, not telling you that he loved you sooner. perhaps this could have all been easily avoided.

so he lets you go, even though in his heart, greedy as it is, you will forever have a home deep within its crevices, safely nestled and cocooned between his lungs and ribs. you were the one, you were and always will be his only one.

if you would've been the one

[aceofstars0]

Goodbye..

Song I was listening to and also suggest you listen to: The Other Side Of Paradise by Glass Animals

Warning: this fic is VERY gorey, horrific, all that jazz so read at your own risk! It also has spoilers for the ending of Demon Slayer.

This is an au of the Milo Kocho au btw

As Muzan is restrained outside and starts to burn up, Milo is begging and pleading Basil inside to turn back. Her eyes are filled with tears and she has scratches and cuts and bruises all over her body, but she is determined to save him.

Kanao arrives with a fourth syringe, and quickly inserts it into Basil before leaving to hrlo with other slayers. He falls down for a minute as Milo panics.

"Mi-o?"

Basil wakes up and looks at her, his eyes and hair slowly turning back to normal.

"Basil!!"

The area is spinning, blurry, and the colors are inverted.

"Wh...at? Wh-is ha-ing?"

Basil's voice cuts out and skips letters.

"W-voice-at?"

Basil starts to panic, as he realizes that he can't move his arms either

Both of their faces turn confused.

"Basil, wha...what's happening to your voice?"

"I-d-now..?"

Basil shifts to sit up, but their arms dont move, like they are sown into the ground. They try to close their eyes, but they sting and stay in place.

Milo holds his arms in an attempt to heal him, but instead her hands come back bruised.

The scab on Basil's forehead from where he was turned to a demon, starts opening up. Milo only realizes when a glistening streak of white starts running down basil's face.

"B-asil... your scars..."

As he glanced around, he noticed all his scars and bruises had been reopening.

Milo starts crying, she looks into Basil's eyes, which were also crying, and hugged him.

"I-an't m-ve"

Suddenly, Basil's left eye grows black, and the blood from his forehead turns red, then white, then red again. He stares forward, not moving, nor breathing

He stays like that for a minute, while milo pulls back and watches him.

With a large gasp, he comes back to life suddenly. His head is thrown back as his eyes turn fully black. His arms and legs contract, and then his whole body relaxes and he falls back asleep.

"Milo, what's happening to basil...?" Kanao had come back over to basil and milo after hearing the panic.

"I-I don't know! His body's doing weird things!" When she looked over, she noticed basil's left arm separate from its forearm and blood covering the area. She looked over to his right arm, which was deteriorating in the same place it had previously been lost, pooling with red and white blood.

Basil wakes back up, looks down, and cries harder than he had previously. He moves his hand to ease a sudden pain in his jaw, but can't reach without his arm.

Temporarily, basil's skin becomes more vibrant and colored, like Milo's. All his pain ceases, but the bleeding does not stop. They look at milo, and smile.

"Mallow, I love you..."

Their whole body falls.

Their hair turns brown, black, white, and every pastel it used to be, flickers.

Their skin pulses and bruises and turns pale.

Their eyes flicker black and white.

Milo hugs him, as tight as she can, her tears running into Basil's changing hair.

Basils body freezes, their pulse ceasing.

"I love you too."

Milo falls onto him, and succumbs to her injuries, the two lovers dying in eachother's arms.

A/N wow! First fic and it's killing off my and @larz-barz ocs! I seriously didn't know I could write something like this, and I did it all in one sitting. Hope I didn't cross any lines of gore because it's VERY gorey but I've posted it now so 🤷

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facials; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic (except for Rei and Haruko). However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Just as note, Dabi isn't a member of LOV in this fic. I explain all of it in the chapter, but I didn't want to make him a villain in this fic, mostly cuz that's my baby daddy & he deserves better. Enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

************

Chapter Four: We're All Friends Here.

“Can you stop doing that, please?” Rei sighs from behind the wheel of his Benz. 

You, sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him, barely spare him a glance. “Doing what?” you ask dryly.

You watch as trees and cars whiz by as Rei drives slightly above the speed limit to get to Fatgum’s wedding. Your feet are up on the dashboard, your painted toes in some sexy-looking Steve Madden heels to match your peach-colored sundress and go along with your braids that you tied up in a bun on your head. 

“Acting like you’re not pissed when you are,” Rei replies. He clenches the wheel so tight that his knuckles are white. “Look, I said I was sorry, Y/N, but I can’t help that I lost my wallet.” 

“No, you can’t,” you begin, about to drag his ass to hell and back, “but you can help that you didn’t show up on time when you specifically told me 9 AM and showed up at 11 PM. The wedding started at 11 PM, Rei.” 

“I’m aware of that,” he growls, forced to stop at a red light. “That’s why I’m hurrying as fast as I can without risking getting a ticket. Cut me some lack, Y/N. I was out patrolling last night.” 

You turn to him, irked. Despite how clean and handsome he looks in his crisp button-down to match your dress, slacks, and red-bottom shoes, that does nothing to distract you from your anger. You had promised Keigo you’d show up on time and you never go back on your promises unless something serious happens. So for Rei to not respect that and make this about his lost wallet (which he found under his car seat later) is really starting to work your nerve.

“You didn’t have to come with me today, Rei,” you say, bite in your tone. “I told you you didn’t have to last night, but you refused. Now we’re two hours late for the wedding! Fatgum is probably already married by now!” 

“We’ll get there,” Rei reassures you, pressing down on the gas as soon as the traffic light flicks to green. “Just chill out, okay? I don’t want us going in here mad at each other.” You feel his hand move to squeeze your knee, but you don’t move to hold his hand or push it away. You try to act like it’s not there, like some pestering fly. 

There is a part of you that feels guilty for being so mad at your boyfriend. You know you can’t help what comes with the job as a pro, but you also know he can sure as hell take off from a night of patrolling, especially on the night before a very important event for you, which he said he’d attend. Even you got your patrols and other pro work out the way this week to prepare for Fatgum’s wedding. 

Rei’s decisions only validate what is more important to him than you are: his ranking. While you understand the pressure he’s under to be the best in the eyes of the public and the Hero’s Commission, you also understand that there is more to life than just a higher popularity number.

Like healthy communication and good sex. And while Rei is a great pro and an even better person, he doesn’t understand that more is needed to be a good boyfriend. 

Your mood only gets lower and lower with every passing minute as you sink deeper into your thoughts. You wonder how it’s possible to have a relationship like Fatgum and Haruko’s. How do two people survive for six years? When do you realize you want to be with someone for the rest of your life? How does it happen? 

You’re hoping for answers when Rei finally gets to the park and parks his car in the lot. By the time you get out of the car, fix your hair, and get Fatgum and Haruko’s wedding gift, the reception has already started. Everyone is now out and about, enjoying the dance floor. Some are on the dance floor, enjoying the tunes the DJ is spinning, while others are lounging at their tables or enjoying the pleasures of the park by snapping photos in the gazebos or taking walks. 

Others are circling the snack table where you find Fatgum and Haruko standing at their large, towering wedding cake drizzled in strawberry and vanilla frosting. Fatgum kisses Haruko’s cheek as they cut the first slice together, their wedding bands glinting in the sun. He catches sight of you and gives you a wink, glad to see you. 

The long snack table they stand at is covered in delicacies and expensive foods only Fatgum thought to add: fruit and cracker towers; charcuterie plates; bowls of salads and soups; spreads of potato salad, collard greens, mac n’ cheese, and every meat and fish known to man: ribeye steaks, grilled salmon, tilapia, chicken, and fried wings coated in hot sauce. Your stomach growls and you realize you haven’t eaten yet. 

“Y/N!” someone calls to you. You find Rumi waving you over to a table where she, Keigo, Sakura, Yu, and Nemuri are all sitting. Keigo is the first to greet you and you have to say that the man certainly knows how to clean up: he looks incredibly handsome in his tailored black suit and red bottom shoes. 

The scent of his cologne fills your nose as you hug him, tickling your senses. “Glad you finally made it,” he says, giving you an adoring smile. Seeing his face seems to make everything better until you notice his smile falter a bit at the sight of Rei behind you. “Tempo!” he happily greets, putting his hand out for a shake. “So you decided to join us losers today.” 

Rei’s eyes tick to Keigo’s hand hesitantly before he slowly takes it, as if unsure if the winged pro is serious with his cordial attitude or not. “Promised to be her date. Of course, I’d show up.” You inwardly sigh, already knowing that Rei’s dislike for Keigo will be an issue today. For some reason, he just doesn’t like your best friend. 

Rumi sidles up to you in her red dress, looking like a damn Amazon. “I bet,” she snickers, “with you lookin’ like that. Tryna take someone else home tonight, sexy?”

You shoo her away with a laugh before walking over to the table where Yu, Nemuri, and Sakura sit, Fatgum and Haruko’s wedding gift still in your hands. “Hey,” you greet, hugging each girl. “Sorry we’re so late. You take pictures of the wedding?” 

“Absolutely!” Nemuri giggles, already moving to show you the slew of pictures on her phone. Your heart melts at the sight of Eri as the flower girl and Fatgum slipping a wedding band onto Haruko’s finger. How you would’ve loved to witness such a beautiful moment! Now, you’re pissed at Rei even more. “But you’re here now!” Yu says with a bright smile. “And you look just as amazing as Sakura does.” 

Sakura blushes at the compliment. “She is right about that,” you giggle, sitting down next to the pink-haired girl. “You do look amazing.” Sakura giggles softly, reminding you of the cutest fairy: tiny, innocent, and pure. “Thank you, but your outfit definitely beats mine with those shoes. I’d die if I walked in those things.” 

Keigo takes a seat between you and Sakura, a new glass of champagne in his hand. You look around, noticing the empty seat that belongs to your renowned good guy, ex-villain friend. “Dabi couldn’t make it?” you mutter to him. 

“More like he couldn’t bribe the warden to give him back his perks after that riot, but he’s workin’ on it,” Keigo whispers back before taking a big gulp of champagne.

You sit back in your seat, disappointed that Dabi won’t be coming, but you should’ve known something would go wrong. He is in prison, after all. 

Dabi has been in your life just as long as Keigo and Rumi. While you met Keigo long before UA, you met Dabi and Rumi at the same time while attending UA for high school. Dabi, you went by Touya Todoroki back then, was training to be a hero and took a liking to you three almost immediately. It was the four of you all day, every day; a special quartet…. 

That is the one day Dabi cracked when his baby brother Shoto was born and his shit father Enji aka no. 1 pro Endeavor became more fond of him than Dabi. After that, he ditched the white hair for stark black, stayed to himself, and started skipping classes until he was finally kicked out. You had no idea what happened. 

Years later when Shoto started attending UA himself was when Dabi finally showed back up. When you and Keigo were called about a LOV attack downtown, you were beyond dumbfounded to see your old friend, all scars and staples, his beautiful, porcelain skin ruined. Even more dumbfounded to realize that he was now a villain and was against his friends. You had cried for weeks over this, being held by Keigo and Rumi, the only two who understood the pain and guilt you felt over Dabi’s new life path. 

However, that was then. Dabi has since changed his tune. After exposing Endeavor’s abusive past to all of Japan and getting him blackballed, Dabi sacrificed himself to save Shoto from a villain attack orchestrated by the LOV, nearly getting killed.

He was in a coma for a month after that. You, Keigo, and Rumi were right there beside him all that time. When he awakened, it was as if he had completely flipped a switch. You don’t know what he experienced while in his coma, but it caused him to wash out his hair dye, leave LOV, and turn himself into the police for his wrongdoings. “I have to atone for my sins,” was all he said. 

It was all over the news for weeks until, like all news, it faded over time. Because Dabi saved Shoto’s life, he and his family (minus Endeavor) implored the judge to shorten his sentence of 50 years behind bars. Now, as part of his deal, Dabi is in prison until his 40th birthday with the possibility of parole with good behavior. Since then, you’ve been visiting and calling him, making sure he’s keeping up with his good track record. 

The last time you saw him was a month ago over drinks. He had strode in with his snow-white hair and an ankle monitor on his ankle that would shock the fuck out of him if he tried to run. As part of his perks, he is given one day of freedom outside of prison every two weeks. He was saving up his days to visit after Fatgum’s wedding, but things took a negative turn when a riot thrown by quirked inmates broke out a week ago. Believing Dabi was the one who orchestrated it, the warden “momentarily” took away Dabi’s perks.

But Dabi is smart, so you know he has some tricks up his sleeve. He was a villain, after all. 

But damn, you wish he was here now to liven up this terribly tense silence that settles on the table. Yu and Nemuri look at Rumi who stares at Keigo who stares at Rei who stares right back at him. You gnaw at your bottom lip, the urge to flee too much. “So, Sakura!” you squeak, cutting through the horrible silence. “How’s work going for you?” 

Sakura looks almost glad that you asked, obviously feeling the tension too. “As soon as it can go when you’re working as a nurse plus customer service,” she sighs tiredly. “I do it for the kids, but those parents try my nerves.” 

“I definitely get it,” you reply empathetically. “As a pro, you have to work well with people too, especially when patrolling.” Sakura’s eyes light up at the mention of your hero work. “Speaking of which, will you be attending the Heroes’ Gala later next month? Are you up for any awards?” 

“Yep!” you proudly say. “I’m up for best fighter, so I’ve been really trying to go hard with my training.”

Keigo smirks at you. “I got the bruises to prove it,” he chuckles, alluding to your training sessions that have taken a pause due to Fatgum’s wedding and because you didn’t want to give Keigo any more bruises that he couldn’t cover. Yet another reason why Rei strongly dislikes your friend: your closeness. He doesn’t quite understand that this is just the relationship you and Keigo share. It’s like the bond between brother and sister. 

“What about you, Rei?” Sakura asks. Rei smiles at her, and you can tell he’s overjoyed that she asked. “I’m nominated for most fearless,” he proudly states as he sips his champagne. “Then at the end of the year, I’m heading for no. 8. That’s why I’ve been working like the world is gonna end lately. Y/N definitely knows.” 

You duck your head to hide your irked expression. “Yeah,” you mutter before you can stop yourself. “I definitely know.” Luckily, only Keigo and Rumi hear you and share a look between each other. One of them has to get you out of here before you start stabbing your boyfriend. “Seesh, look at that waterfall!” Rumi hollers, pointing to the foundation at the snack table overflowing with chocolate fondu and surrounded by guests. 

“Y/N, help me fight to get at that fondu fountain. My sweet tooth is talkin’ to me.” Rumi gets out of her seat and loops your arm in hers, dragging you away from the table. “Bring back some wings!” Keigo shouts after you both as you walk away from the group and head towards the snack table. 

As you do, Rumi snatches a glass of champagne from a random tray and hands it to you. “Had to get you out of there,” she whispers. “That shit was awkward. You looked like you were about to choke Rei out.” 

“I can’t help it,” you groan defeatedly. “This morning was a shit show! It wasn’t the fact he lost his wallet, but he showed up so late when he promised he’d be at our condo by 9. I missed the wedding because of his negligence.” 

“Seems like he’s been negligent with a few things lately,” Rumi replies knowingly. “I can tell. When he’s over, all I hear is him and no you.” You stare at her wide-eyed. “Yes, I can hear y’all have sex, Y/N,” she chuckles, pointing at her ears. “With these things, I can hear a tree fall in the forest.” 

“That’s so embarrassing,” you groan. You’re not sure if you’re referring to the fact that your friend has heard you and your boyfriend have sex or to the fact that you’re crickets compared to Rei.  “So I’m guessin’ the sex has been lacking too?” Rumi questions, raising a brow when you finally make it to the snack table. 

You busy yourself with gathering some salad with a side of grilled chicken and potato salad to hide your embarrassment. “It’s only because he’s been working so hard to get his award and a high rank,” you say in a hushed tone for Rumi’s ears only. “And when we do have sex, he’s not as attentive as I want him to be. Either that or I’m not connecting with him.” 

Rumi scowls confusedly at you, a kabob of fruit for fondu in her hand. “I’m not following.”

You sigh, realizing you’ll have to be a bit clearer. “I love Rei,” you explain, “but I feel nothing when we have sex. When we kiss or have any other physical contact that isn’t sexual, I get the urge to fuck him, but when I actually do it, there are no fireworks setting off in my head.” 

Even saying it makes you feel ill. “Sex is a big part of relationships for me. Without that, what do we have?”

Rumi whistles lowly, a hand on her toned hip. “A very dry relationship in need of some lubin’ up,” she replies. “Either that or just dumb the guy.” You glare at her angrily and she puts her hands up in defense. “Look, I know you don’t want to break up with him over this, but if you’re this upset over it, why even bother? You don’t even look happy, girl!” 

You want to point out to Rumi that it isn’t like Rei is a casual hookup or a guy you’ve only been dating for a few weeks. You’ve been together for a year! You have history and he’s truly a great boyfriend despite the dry spell and your feelings of being neglected because of his work. “I love him, Rumi,” you say, exasperated, “and I wanna try with him.” 

That’s all the reason you give Rumi but it’s enough to shut her up. “Give me some advice,” you plead. “You have good sex, right? And don’t act like you don’t ‘cause you’re not exactly quiet either.” 

You raise a knowing brow at her. Many times you’ve heard the bunny hero going at it in her bedroom with her hookups of the week, most of them during nights when you’re in need of sleep before work. 

Rumi gives you a sheepish smile. “Guilty as charged,” she chuckles. “Well, have you ever talked to him about your kinks?” 

Her simple question makes you reach back into the furthest parts of your brain for an answer. Have you talked about your kinks with Rei? You’ve tried the handcuffs, but since that didn’t work, kink never saw the light of day again in your relationship.

However, you can’t remember ever flat-out telling him you loved spankings or for a guy to spit on your pussy. And what about your degradation kink? Or your desire for exhibitionism? He’d look at you like you’re crazy! 

You shake your head silently at Rumi. “Start there then,” she encourages. “Or maybe try to do something more adventurous with him to spice things up. That usually always works.” She passes you a fresh glass of champagne. “I’d suggest gettin’ some alcohol in him first.” 

You turn back to stare at Rei, finding him chatting with Jeanist and Ms. Joke. Nervous butterflies flutter in your stomach at Rumi’s advice, but it’s something you know will probably be easier than you believe it will be…right? 

“Hey, you two!” Keigo grabs you and Rumi’s attention, looking impatient. “You gonna gossip or get some wings for me? I need some before I pick either one of you as a dance partner.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at both of you and begins subtly moving his hips to the band playing a cover of Rihanna, the lead singer crooning into the mic. 

Rumi looks at him in playful disgust. “With your big ass wings?” she scoffs. “No, thanks. You’d knock me over.” Keigo gives her a mock offended look as she sashays by him, heading back to the table. “Come on, you two!” she shouts over her shoulder. 

You inwardly groan, not wanting to sit back down in the awkwardness of that table. But when Keigo gives you that reassuring smile that everything will be okay, all of that dread vanishes. “Well, she’s waiting for us, baby bird.” He hooks his arm through yours, smiling at you. “Better not keep her waiting.” 

Without another word, you let Keigo drag you back to the table with your food and much-needed champagne in hand. 

[fordoggo]

ShinRan Masterlist

A/N: These fanfics do not belong to me, all works belong to their rightful authors. I simply gathered these since 2019. Enjoy! Inspired by this 

The Same Old You by Jaroslav Lewis - exes but meets again (Highly recommended!)

Interview Mania by PurpleLlamanator - AU, perfect fluff (Wish I could read it again

Like Father Like Daughter by PurpleLlamanator - Drunk Ran but is she really drunk? (Contains smut)

Something Wrong by PurpleLlamanator - dont overthink detective! (LOVED it)

Rondo Towards Love: Shinichi vs Ran by luna nuova - enemies to lovers but discontinued/inactive (Explicit, read at your own risk!)

The New Teacher by HopeGrace1290 - Shinichi is Ran’s teacher (was a rollercoaster)

Word Play by AngelicSentinel - Shinichi has a......Holmes kink? (Smut)

The Teapot by LuckyLadybug - thats one way to propose!

12 Games: Shinichi and Ran by Gisachi - fluff, semi-smut, Shinichi and Ran decides to play games

Red and White by hislips - valentines (FLUFF)

Seven Days for Shinichi and Ran by Serinox - 7 days, 7 oneshots

53 Stories of SHINRAN, HEIZUHA KAOKO by Orchid| 01|

The Gift of Love by EsTeLweNadia -  sometimes, the greatest gifts of love come in small packages (extreme angst with fluff)

Feel What You Know by impossibleorimprobable - follow your guts when it comes to love (extreme angst)

On The Nature of Daylight by MintChocolateLeaves - you can never escape the ‘what ifs’ (angst but fluff)

Pretend and Practice by hislips - fake it till you make it (fluff)

Sprouting Jealousy by Zero-onE001 - Shinichi doesn’t know why (jealous fics are so cute!)

Midnight Disturbance by hislips - Drunk Shinichi (smut and fluff)

Cold Shoulder by Bleeding Jazz Gums - Shinichi gets the cold shoulder

The Angel by MoonlitSky321 -  to his role model, she was always the woman

A Study In Shinichi by Shimegami-chan - Ran studies her favorite detective 

Lost in Time by Shelling4869Ford - Was she waiting for him too? (angsty fluff)

231 SHINRAN STORIES by wanasya98 

180 SHINRAN STORIES by louisJr

BONUS: Heiji and Kazuha + dcmk 

The Darkness Inside by Akrim - Aoko and Ran solving a case together (Reread it 10 times)

Can’t Predict the Weather by PurpleLlmanator - another masterpiece 

Chemistry by Strawberry'd -  They say alcohol breaks down barriers... 

From Aho to Z by GothicAngel09 - Alphabet Angst/Fluff

Consequences by JustTeahPlease  - usual bickering yet its comforting 

Alternate Dimensions by Twins of the Earth - dcmk gets into another universe 

Sugarhigh by JustTeahPlease - conan is acting childish....perhaps a thief and an osakan detective may be the cause

Kudo Will Die by Ichthyophobia- what happens when Kogoro finds out about the Conan fiasco? 

The Hattori-Kudo Files by MeridianGrimm - you can always get crazy with your best friend

63 DCMK STORIES by kaitothegreat

59 DCMK STORIES by Sara99z

22 DCMK STORIES by Ichthyophobia

11k DCMK FANFICTIONS

[fox-sama97]

Ignore at Your Own Risk- Chapter 3

Sorry it took so long to get this out but it's finally here! It's probably a little rougher than before due to the length of it, but also my friend who read over my other chapters was busy and couldn't read over this one. Wanted to post it tonight, so let me know what y'all think! Here's a snippet of the beginning for some Jazz motivation! Later in the chapter we get into body horror and eldritch horror so be warned!

--------

Ectoblasts, a subdued, barely glowing green, lit up the night as Jazz fired, wavering until they burst like fireworks around a thousand feet out. The illumination was just barely bright enough to show the shadow of a woman flying through the air on a sled.

With the barest twitch of her finger, Jazz swapped firing modes. Three thinner and brighter ectoblasts firing from her Fenton rifle, two splashing into the shadow of a woman, pushing her back and lighting her up like a flash of lightning, as the other shot went past her face.

Dark red full bodysuit, small dented wooden circles resting on vital areas, and a large blaster resting on her shoulder that let off a brief red glow as it discharged.

Jazz ran, weaving around the shots, muscles burning, lungs pumping, mind straining to predict the erratic flight path of the woman as she readied her next shot. Barely a hitch in her step as she raised her rifle and fired another burst of three, only registering one more confirmed shot before the light was gone and her finger twitched to swap firing modes again. Another three shots, fatter and darker than before, exploded in the air, the green starburst splashing onto the woman, dimly glowing residue sticking to her suit and the wooden circle on her torso.

The woman immediately spun around, flight pattern more erratic as she zipped around, left, right, a steep dive only to pull up less than a second after, all the while red blasts raining down around Jazz.

Barely sparing a glance as she dodged by the thinnest margin, Jazz raised her rifle again, the smallest hitch in her step as she swapped modes and fired, three blasts slamming into the wooden circle, only the first slightly off center.

She slowed, her legs wobbling, body screaming to rest, but she ignored it, staying upright and forcing her body to be still by sheer force of will. She watched as the woman reached the ground, suit and sled folding up across her body until it seemed to seep into her skin, not a trace left by the time she reached Jazz, broken wooden circles all that was left to showcase their practice.

"We'll need to go again. I'm still stumbling when I start firing and my aim is still off." Jazz stated, forcing herself to breathe normally.

"Well damn, give me some credit too, Jazz. It's my job to not get hit."

Jazz felt a rush of anger through her, fire tingling in her limbs, before she forced calm on herself, allowing one slightly more forceful breath out. "It's also your job to hit me and I'm unharmed, Val. Your patterns are predictable again. You'll need to change them before the real thing."

Red lit up Valerie's eyes before she closed them. A slow even breath filtering out of her lips.

Shame settled in Jazz's stomach like a lead weight. "I-I'm sorry Val. I appreciate you training with me like this."

"It's okay, you're right. I need to work on it some more." Valerie's eyes opened again, back to their normal green color. "Do…do you wanna talk about it?"

"No need, you can just get out your suit and sled and we'll start again." Jazz's eyes tracked to the side, intently sweeping the area around them, not looking at Valerie.

"You know that's not what I meant Jazz. Do you wanna talk about what's happening? Do…do you wanna talk about Danny?"

Jazz froze, shoulders tensing, eyes closed, her breath catching in her throat as she suppressed a sob. Mind tumbling over itself to throw her failures into her face.

—---------

Jazz was a good sister. This fact she'd written onto the core of her being. She'd practically raised Danny, her parents too scattered and preoccupied with their portal project to give either of them the time they needed, much less the attention they deserved.

She'd been the one to walk him to school.

She'd made his breakfast and lunch, and usually dinner too.

She'd helped with his homework and pinned his drawings to the fridge.

She'd listened to all his troubles and tried to give him advice.

She was a good sister, she had to be a good sister.

But when she got to high school, well Danny was old enough, smart enough to take care of himself. He'd made friends and started pulling away a bit, and she'd let him.

She wanted to make friends too, have a childhood too, even if it felt too late for it. Not that she had as much luck in that as her brother. They'd both been thoroughly branded as the Weird Fenton kids, and unlike Danny, even the weird kids in her grade didn't want to hang out with her. Too unreliable for them, she'd never had the time to hang out and no one expected that to change. Didn't matter anyway, Spike was gone too.

Jazz had to be a good sister. She hadn't been.

Learning that she'd looked away, neglected her duties and found out that her brother had died when she had?

It broke her, just a little. When had she stopped paying attention to him? Good sisters don't let their brother die and not even notice it.

She knew she could be overbearing and annoying but she didn't think she'd hurt him so much he wouldn't tell her.

She'd tried to support him, to earn back the trust she'd obviously lost when he hadn't come to her with this. She'd started sabotaging Jack and Maddie's not her parents anymore, not after what they did inventions, leading them away from Phantom and retraining her body in the martial arts that Maddie had shown her years ago.

And it worked! She had her brother's trust again too late and she was a good sister. But not good enough.

He told her about the portal accident, eventually, how he'd died but not all the way. She'd comforted him as he'd cried like he hadn't since he was six and gotten a chemical burn, her fault, for not pushing Jack and Maddie's chemicals farther back on the table.

He'd never wanted to be Phantom, he was only doing it because it was his fault the portal even worked and he couldn't admit it was Jack and Maddie's fault for making the damned thing in the first place. He still loved them, unlike her, still wanted them to love him.

Jazz wasn't a good sister.

She knew how Danny got his powers. Knew it worked as well as it did because of how liminal he'd already been from a lifetime of exposure to ectoplasm. She could make it work again, turn herself into a Halfa. She may not have been as liminal as Danny, but she was close. Closer than Vlad was at least.

But Vlad had spent months dying slowly, getting his powers even slower. Danny had died all at once, taken days to develop his first powers, and months learning to use them.

And as far as she could tell, they'd been lucky. Most would have just died, their ghosts may have even been ripped apart or been driven insane. Or been trapped between realms forever, never to be heard from again.

She loved her little brother, would take his place in a second, and die for him in less if it would save him. But she'd seen what her death, his friend's deaths had done to him. How it had turned him into a monster he still had nightmares about. She couldn't recreate his accident on herself, not when she didn't know if it would work, not when it would destroy him if she died, killing him all over again.

And now, with Sam and Tucker dead, Danny throwing himself into self destructive grief and revenge, there was nothing she could do.

Now when he needed someone to take this burden the most, she could afford the risk the least. Losing her now, so soon after Sam and Tucker? He wouldn't survive it and neither would the world.

She wasn't a good sister, not when the best she could do for him was to stay alive. She had to be better, had to train more, until she could support him against the Justice League and keep him from making a mistake, from going too far, becoming something he'd never forgive himself for.

She couldn't help but feel it still wasn't enough.

—-------

"There's…there's nothing to talk about. We've compromised on what we can live with. I'll support Danny. That's all there is." Jazz stated, voice almost fragile at the start, but firm with her resolve as she continues.

"Red, I know you hate the plan, you don't have to lie to me. You certainly haven't made it a secret."

"I want justice just as much as you do, Val. I just think…we all needed more time to grieve first. Danny is…he's hurting so much right now. We all are. I just don't want him to do something out of grief that he can't live with afterwards."

Valerie hesitated, before slowly clapping her hand onto Jazz's shoulder. "He won't, he's got you there to make sure of it."

Jazz let the ghost of a smile cross her face, about to continue when the crunch of dead grass reached their ears.

Jazz raised her rifle, green light sparking in the barrel as she wiped around, noting Valerie's blaster folding out of her arm, both aiming towards the noise.

Slowly a boy, just as dirty as the rest of them, walked into view, hands already raised in surrender. "Paulina's group caught Batman, he's sitting pretty in the jailhouse." The boy didn't even stay to make sure they heard, turning around and jogging away the moment he finished.

"Uuuughhh, she's gonna be even more insufferable now. Why couldn't literally anyone else get him," Valeria groaned, lowering her weapon. "I gotta go look into this. Make sure they actually properly disarmed him. See ya later, Red!" She said, jumping into the air, jet sled unfolding beneath her and shooting off with a whisper of wind.

Jazz watched her go, rifle still in hand. There was no turning back now, all she could hope to do was mitigate the damage.

[pogidoow]

Frozen Creative Notes Volume 1 | Chapter Titles edition

I thought it would be fun to do some extra content for my Tumblr gang, starting with some title meanings, not in any particular order.

Spoilers ahead up to chapter 21 so read at your own risk!

In the notorious Chapter 12: There’s no I in team, but there is jazz, the "there's no I in team" refers to Frost/reader no longer being a part of the team, as in "I, Frost, am no longer in the team", while the "but there is jazz" part is foreshadowing the forever controversial intro to Jazz being a new addition to the team.

In Chapter 18: A mission of grave importance, the title symbolizes a mission that is going to be of significant/big (aka grave) importance because it is where Graves is introduced back into the story. The use of the word "grave" is deliberate, foreshadowing Graves' return.

In Chapter 15: Life is a matter of choice. So is death is a reference to a key moment in the chapter where Frost is forced to make a choice between staying on her side of the ledge, admittedly choosing her very likely death and letting Ghost save himself or jumping and risking both of them dying but also both of them surviving.

In Chapter 19: Stay Frosty, the title is a known military term that means to "be alert and ready for action, without letting one's fear or other emotions get in the way." I had fun with capitalizing the word for obvious reasons. The title refers to Frost's internal freak-out once she learns she will be joined on a mission by Soap and Ghost where she would have to put her emotions aside despite the nature of the mission and events that happened days before. We all know how that went...

In Chapter 21: When the music stops playing and regrets become loud, the part "when the music stops playing" is a metaphor for Jazz's death, since her call sign is related to music. Once music stops playing, well, Jazz stops... breathing (sorry lol). The other part refers to an ongoing theme of regret throughout the whole chapter, especially in the beginning where another upcoming regret is foreshadowed through Frost's past experiences. I also mentioned this theme in Chapter 19 where Frost briefly talks to Jazz about regrets which is another slight foreshadow of what's to come.

In Chapter 10, Out of the frying pan and into the fire, an idiom is used to describe an already tense and difficult situation for Frost becoming worse once Valeria is introduced as Carmen's girlfriend.

In Chapter 17: Dream a little dream of me, the title foreshadows Ghost's dream that happens at the end of the chapter. It is also a reference to the famous song of the same name.

Hope you enjoyed, lmk if you want more creative notes in the future.

[foundtherightwords]

All Our Yesterdays - Chapter 8

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC

Summary:Thu, a museum archivist, only wants to escape her dull life in 21st-century Hanoi. The last thing she expects is to end up in 1929 Indochina via a time-traveling elevator and cross paths with Ralph, an Englishman on the run from the French Foreign Legion. Romance blossoms between them, but in a colonized country, unrest is always looming on the horizon, and Thu must decide if she wants to stay with Ralph in the past or return to the safety of the future.

Warnings: outdated/period-typical attitudes about women, mentions of war, mentions of pregnancy and abortion (involving a supporting character), some angst, some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4.9k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

As Ralph's birthday approached, Thu wracked her brain to think of something to do to celebrate. For her own birthday back home, she usually went out with her friends or her family (and Hoang, if he could spare some precious moments out of his day) would take her out for a special dinner, but she had no idea what would count as a special dinner in 1929. Besides, she and Ralph went out to eat all the time; she'd like something more celebratory than that.

In the end, she turned to Mai for help. "Hey, Mai," she asked one day as they were on their way to pick up some orders for the office. "What is there to do for fun in the evening around here?"

"Oh, there are lots of things! You can go to the theater, or the cinema, or a teahouse for some ca trù singing..."

"Do women actually go to teahouses?" Thu was surprised. From what she read in the history books, being entertained at teahouses was strictly a men's pastime.

"Oh yes, but only if you're feeling adventurous," Mai said, giggling.

A night at a dimly lit teahouse, amongst the seductive singers, was not Thu's idea of a birthday celebration. "Is there anything, I don't know, more fun?" she asked.

Mai's face brightened. "Oh, I know! There's Western dancing!"

"You guys have Western dancing already?" Thu said before she remembered herself, but Mai didn't seem to notice anything strange in her question.

"It's the latest thing," she said. "Louis has been telling me about it—"

"Who's Louis?"

Mai's round cheeks were pink. "He's a clerk at the French-Indochina Bank. I've been... well, I've been walking out with him for a few months now. He's so dashing! Maybe not as artistic as your Davinier, but—"

"Whoa, hold on, he's not my Davinier, OK? We're just—friends." Thu wished she could say that with more conviction.

"If you say so," Mai said, wriggling her eyebrows at Thu.

Thu rolled her eyes. "Tell me about this dancing then."

"A dance hall just opened on Kham Thien. Apparently, they play Western music there, and you dance to it, man and woman"—Mai dropped her voice dramatically—"while holding each other!"

Thu had to remember that in 1929 Vietnam, the Confucian rule of strictly forbidding physical contact between unrelated men and women was still very prevalent. No wonder Mai seemed so excited about this dancing. It was forbidden, titillating stuff.

"Louis said he'll take me there next Saturday," continued Mai. "I'm bringing some friends, you should come along! And bring your—I mean, bring Monsieur Davinier as well."

When Thu suggested the idea to Ralph, she'd expected him to refuse. After all, he'd grown up in Jazz Age London; he might find their clumsy colonial dancing rather quaint and provincial. Plus, there was always the risk of him getting recognized at a public place like that.

But Ralph jumped at it.

"I'd love to," he said. "It's been ages since I went dancing! I didn't even know there were dance halls here!"

"Me neither." Thu cleared her throat. "Just so you know, Kham Thien is the red-light district of Hanoi. It may not be the most respectable place."

Ralph had no such hang-ups. "Being respectable is no fun," he said with a grin.

So next Saturday, Thu went by the studio in her new velvet áo dài. They were going to meet Mai and her friends at the office, before heading to Kham Thien together.

Her new áo dài had cost her a pretty penny, but the tailor and Mai, who she'd accompanied to the shop, had insisted that it was just the thing for her, and looking into the mirror, Thu had to agree. The soft pastel colors of the silks sometimes washed her out, but the rich burgundy of the velvet warmed her olive skin and set off her dark hair and eyes, giving her a certain mysterious allure that she didn't quite feel but enjoyed nonetheless.

The look on Ralph's face when he saw her proved it too.

"You know, in my time, this color is mostly for the mother of the bride or the groom to wear at the wedding," she joked, to cover her shyness.

"It looks good on you" was all he said, but he kept looking at her, then turned away, then back again, as if he couldn't get enough. "Do you mind if I take a picture of you?"

"What, now? Do we even have time?"

"Yes, the light on the balcony is perfect. It won't take a minute."

While Ralph prepared his camera, Thu went to the balcony and looked out over the street. The sun was setting, its last rays flowing over the moss-covered roofs like molten gold. Some leaves had started to turn colors, though they wouldn't fall for another month or two, and the blackboard trees, that staple of Hanoi streets, were still putting forth their clusters of modest white blooms with their heavenly scent. She inhaled deeply, breathing in their fragrance.

The click of the camera made her whirl around.

"Did you take the photo already?" she asked. "But I didn't even get to pose!"

Ralph looked slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, I think it looks better that way. Do you want me to take another one?"

"Nah, that's OK. I have my own camera." She pulled out her phone and beckoned to Ralph. "Come on." He was looking quite smart in his dinner jacket and bowtie, and she couldn't pass up a chance to have a photo of the two of them all dressed up.

Ralph, having gotten used to her selfies by now, scooted closer and leaned down. Thu quickly snapped the photo and turned away, trying not to notice how warm his cheek was against hers.

They had a quick dinner before starting for the office. The darkening streets were full of Saturday night revelers, families with small children hanging to the mothers' hands or riding on the fathers' shoulders, single people strolling about, and couples, walking arm in arm, laughing at things only they knew. Thu noticed a few people glancing at her and Ralph, probably because they looked like a couple but weren't behaving like one. They were walking shoulder-to-shoulder but not touching. More than once, Thu had the feeling Ralph was going to offer her his arm, only to think better of it.

"It's not too cold for you, is it?" he asked.

"Are you kidding?" she laughed. "We live for days like this, when it's still warm but cool enough to walk around without sweating buckets... Damn this hair!" she exclaimed, tucking behind her ear a stubborn lock, which had kept falling down her face.

Noticing this, Ralph beckoned to a flower seller, who was no doubt on her way home, dragging her feet with a basket that was half full, her downcast face a sad contrast to the carnations and chrysanthemums and roses still singing their bright colors. Ralph bought a bunch of red carnations, and then, on second thoughts, bought the rest of her basket. The woman's face lit up as she stammered her thanks, and she walked away with much lighter steps.

"I think that woman will be able to feed her children well tonight, thanks to you," Thu told him with a warm smile.

"Ah, well, they're so pretty, it seemed a shame to let them go to waste," he said, a little embarrassed. "Here, allow me."

He broke off a carnation and tucked it behind her ear to keep her hair in place. It was such an easy, intimate gesture, like he was used to fixing her hair all the time, that it took both of them a moment to realize what had just happened. Then Ralph turned bright red, almost as red as the carnations themselves. He took his hand off of Thu's hair and gave her the rest of the bunch without looking at her. She buried her face in the blooms. The soft petals cooled her cheeks a little, but they did nothing to still her stampeding heart.

They met up with Mai and her friends, two girls around Mai's age, and Ralph gave them the rest of the flowers, causing them to squeal in delight. Thu supposed she should have felt a little better at that, seeing how Ralph treated them all equally. See? He was just being nice. But instead, she felt a little annoyed, and then was annoyed at herself for being annoyed. At least he didn't fix their hair.

"Oh, he is so gallant!" Mai said in Vietnamese but pronouncing "gallant" the French way. "You lucky girl!" she added to Thu with a wink, and Thu's cheeks heated up again.

"It's your birthday, we should be giving you flowers, not the other way around," she said to Ralph.

"Oh, it's no trouble," he said. "Victoria and I always had these party favors for our guests. Consider those flowers my treat to you. All of you," he added.

See? You're just like any other guest at his birthday bash. There's absolutely no reason to get all hot and bothered just because he gave you some flowers and touched your hair. None at all.

They took the tram. Rickshaws would cost too much, and as Kham Thien Street was right beside the central train station of Hanoi, the tram was quite convenient.

"Have you been here before?" she asked Ralph, as they walked the short distance from the station to Kham Thien, following Mai and her friends, who were running ahead, giddy with anticipation.

"No. I don't see much point in paying for pleasure. Is it still the red-light district in your time?"

She shook her head. Kham Thien in 2023 was just another ordinary street, full of traffic and chaos. Its sole, sad claim to fame was its complete destruction during the American War.

If it hadn't been for the train track running across it, she would have hardly recognized the place now. Instead of the overcrowded houses standing close next to one another, the street was lined with large buildings in a mix of traditional and Western styles, doors thrown wide open, windows blazing. Everywhere was light and music and laughter. The spacious pavement in front of these buildings was full of partygoers, and their excited shrieks and shouts were mixed with the noises from the inside into a cacophony.

Only the cramped alleys at the back of these buildings showed a seedier side of the street. Those that ventured there all had the desperate or dazed look of an opium eater, and the groans and moans coming from them were hushed, menacing, a stark contrast to the wild exhilarating noises of the front.

"You haven't tried opium, have you?" Thu asked Ralph, her eyes fixed on those dark alleys.

"No. I haven't any money," he said, as if a lack of funds was the only thing keeping him from those dens of vices. "I've tried the occasional cocaine back home though," he added casually.

Thu quirked an eyebrow at him. "You were really living up to that Bright Young Things stereotype, weren't you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled, but there was no time to explain, for they had arrived.

A two-story building in the traditional Vietnamese style rose up in front of them, with a sign saying Pagode. Pagoda. Interesting name for a dance hall.

Mai ran toward a man waiting by the front door. The dashing Louis, no doubt. As they approached, Thu saw that he was quite dashing indeed—a little older than the rest of them, in his thirties perhaps, with a handlebar mustache that was forever lifting up to show his dazzling teeth underneath, and bright, laughing blue eyes. Mai made a round of introductions, and Louis kissed all the girls' hands. Thu could understand why Mai was swooning. Heck, she could've been swooning herself, if she hadn't caught Louis throwing a quick, derisive glance at Ralph, which made her take an instant dislike to him.

Louis offered to pay all of their entrance fees, though Ralph insisted on paying for himself and Thu. Thu could've easily paid for herself, but she rather enjoyed that subtle fight for dominance, and when Ralph finally offered her his arm as they went through the door, she took it.

Mai looked over at the carnations in Thu's hand. "Wait," she said. "There're six stems there. That's bad luck."

Right. Thu always forgot this one rule, and more than once her mother had chided her for buying an even number of flowers. She broke off another flower and tucked it into Ralph's lapel. "It's bad luck to have an even number of flowers in a bouquet," she explained to him in English.

Mai clapped her hand, satisfied. "Now you look like a proper couple!" she said in Vietnamese.

And they did, with the carnation in her hair matching her áo dài and the carnation on his jacket. Thu's face was in danger of getting overheated again. She stared daggers at Mai. This was basically the equivalent of a little girl making her dolls kiss, and she would not submit to it.

"What did she say?" Ralph asked, smiling.

"Nothing," Thu said.

But then they entered the dance hall, and Thu's jaw dropped, her embarrassment completely forgotten. Now she understood why it was called The Pagoda. The interior was decorated like a traditional Vietnamese pagoda or temple, all crimson lacquer and gold leaf. Hundreds of lamps and candles cast their flickering flame the gilt carvings on the walls and the ceiling. At one end of the enormous room was a raised platform, surrounded by lacquered columns with gold dragons climbing up them. The band sat on the platform against a waterfall, an actual waterfall, the tinkling sound of water flowing over rocks into the pool below serving as a backing track to the music. Couples, French and Vietnamese, were swaying across the waxed dark wood floor, the ladies' dresses and áo dài twirling, the men's shoes tapping and clicking in time to the music.

"Isn't it amazing?" Mai shouted above the din. Thu could only nod.

They found a table at the edge of the dance floor. Waiters, dressed in traditional garb, were weaving their way between the tables and the bar, carrying trays laden with wines, champagnes, and liquors. Louis, who had clearly been there before, waved to some of his friends, and soon a steady stream of acquaintances was drifting by their table, shaking hands with the men and bowing to the girls, as Mai explained that Louis had promised to find partners for all of them.

Then the band struck up, the dancing began, and Thu suddenly realized how out of depth she was. This was the one area where people of the past were superior to her. She had no sense of rhythm and movement. She kept stepping on Ralph's toes and turning the wrong way and bumping into other couples. The few times she'd been to clubs with friends (never with Hoang, who thought such things were a waste of time), she had resorted to the universal moves of jumping up and down and vaguely wriggling her body to the music. That would not fly here. For a moment, she wondered hysterically what would happen if she started playing Lady Gaga or K-pop from her phone right now.

Ralph, on the other hand, was in his element. He knew every dance, and he danced them well, with little flourishes that Thu suspected wasn't strictly correct but looked like fun. A regular Fred Astaire. He tried to teach her something called the Charleston, but the moves were so complicated that she soon gave up and retreated to the table. She'd half-hoped Ralph would keep her company, but he didn't even seem to notice her departure. He stayed on the dance floor, dancing with the other three girls with great enthusiasm.

She wasn't jealous, not really. They were nothing to each other; she had no grounds to feel jealous. It would be selfish to want him to sit with her while he could be out there, having fun. She just felt a little left out, that was all.

Louis came over and asked her, in accented English, to dance. "Thank you, but no, I'm no good," she said. "It seems I have two left feet."

"That's only because you didn't have the right teacher," he said with a leer. She rolled her eyes, but at that point, she heard one of Mai's friends giggle over something Ralph was saying, and without knowing why, she put her hand into Louis's and let him lead her out on the dance floor.

It was a slow dance, and Louis was holding her too close for comfort, but she said nothing. She glanced in Ralph's direction. He was looking at her and Louis with a scowl. Good. Let him feel a little of what she'd been feeling.

"You speak English very well," she told him.

"Thank you," he said, and his mustache lifted in a grin. "Mai told me you studied in Hong Kong." That was the story Thu had given to the newspaper staff to explain why she could speak English and not French.

"That's right," Thu said, concentrating on not stepping on his toes.

"I've been there. Nice place."

Thu's stomach dropped. She replied with a wary, non-committal "Yes".

"Nice girls too," Louis continued. "Very independent. Very free with their affections. Unlike these demure girls of Tonkin. Though I have to say, that has its appeal too."

He was definitely holding her too close now, and his hand was creeping below her waist. She stared at him in disbelief, and in response, his teeth flashed again under his mustache. Did he see her with Ralph and think she was one of those girls? Did Mai know? She took Louis's hand from her waist. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said through gritted teeth, bending his wrist back as far as she could. He grimaced, probably more out of surprise than pain, but it gratified her nonetheless.

Just then, she heard Ralph say something in French behind her, and Louis dropped her like a hot coal and scurried back to the table, massaging his wrist as he went. Ralph stepped into his place.

"I could handle myself just fine, you know," she said. She didn't want Ralph to think she was some sort of damsel in distress.

"I know," Ralph said. "I just thought maybe you'd like a dance with the birthday boy."

"It's no fun dancing with a terrible partner," she muttered. "Go dance with Mai again. She's a much better dancer than me."

Why was he grinning at her in that annoyingly knowing way? "But this is the foxtrot!" he said.

"I don't know what that means."

"Anybody can dance the foxtrot, especially if it's slow."

As if on cue, the band struck up a sweet, romantic melody. The couples around them drew closer to each other, looking like they were just swaying together in place.

Thu tried to pull back. "I don't know—"

"Close your eyes."

"Close my eyes?!"

"Trust me."

Grudgingly, she complied. The dance hall with its dazzling light and bewildering noises gradually faded away, and all was left was the feel of his hand holding hers, his fingers, strong but gentle on her back, the warmth of his body against her, and his voice softly in her ears. "Just follow my lead. Step forward when I step back, and vice versa. It's that simple. Don't think about it. Don't fight it. Forward, back. Forward, back. Forward, back... See, you're doing it."

Startled, Thu opened her eyes and realized that yes, she was dancing, they were dancing, bodies moving in sync with each other, smoothly, effortlessly, without thought. But the moment she became aware of their movements, the awkwardness was back, and she missed a step. "I told you, I can't," she said apologetically, and before Ralph could stop her, she let go of his hand and walked out of the dance hall.

***

Thu stood in the cold evening air outside the dance hall, trying to catch her breath. She could still feel her whole body fizzing from the dance, from Ralph's touches, and she looked around, distracting herself with her usual pastime of finding the modern landmarks amongst the contemporary houses. With a jolt, she suddenly remembered that none of these remained in her time.

She had learned about the Christmas bombing of 1972 in school, of course, but since her family wasn't even living in Hanoi at the time, she had always regarded it as just another tragic point in Vietnam's history. Yet now, standing here on this gaily lit street, with the sound of music and singing and laughter coming from every doorway, she was struck by an intolerable melancholy.

Ralph stepped out onto the pavement behind her. "Are you all right?" he asked. "Why did you run off like that?"

"I just need some air."

He came to stand beside her and peered at her face with concern. "Was it something I did?"

"No, of course not! Why'd you ask?"

"You're looking rather upset."

"I was just thinking about how all this will be gone in about 40 years or so. Razed to the ground."

"What?"

In her mind, Thu could almost hear Doc Brown ranting about the space-time continuum. But she had told Ralph enough about the future already, and this didn't directly involve either of them, so she figured she was on safe grounds.

"In 1972. We were at war with the US. They bombed this entire area. Almost 300 people died. In my time, there's a memorial to the victims, right about there." She pointed across the street. None of the houses would be standing, but she could gauge the position by the train track.

She didn't realize she was crying until a tear splashed on her hand. She didn't even know why she was crying. It was silly, of course. By 1972, those people currently laughing and dancing and enjoying themselves would already be dead or have moved on; it was unlikely any of them would be killed in the bombing. So why did it make her so sad? Was it because she could feel such terrible poignancy in their oblivious merrymaking? Nobody knew what horrors the future would bring. Nobody understood. Nobody cared. Perhaps except for Ralph.

And he did care. Silently, he put an arm around her and drew her close.

"Sorry I was a grump earlier," she said. "I didn't mean to ruin your birthday."

"You didn't ruin it. The night's still young."

He still smelled of Palmolive soap, and the smell reminded Thu of the day she'd first arrived in 1929, confused and exhausted, how he had helped her then, and how he had stuck with her throughout it all. Filled with gratitude and affection, she turned and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a full embrace. He stiffened for a moment, then relaxed into the hug. She leaned her cheek against his chest and breathed out, feeling the lump in her throat dissolving. It would probably shock the locals to see a man and a woman holding each other so closely, even on a street as wild and free as Kham Thien, but she didn't care.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what?"

"Just—for being here. For listening. For helping."

"I haven't helped much."

"No, you have. A lot. I couldn't have survived the last few months without you."

"Nor I you."

She lifted her head to look at him, only to realize he was bending down to her, their faces so close she could see the reflection of the lamplight in his eyes and the shadows of his eyelashes. Good Heavens, why is it always men that have such long eyelashes? It's really not fair.

Then he parted his lips slightly and slid his hands further down, to her hips, where his thumbs almost grazed the tiny triangle of bare skin between the top of her trousers and the slit of her áo dài. Her breath slowed, and she suddenly wondered what it would feel like to kiss those lips, to feel those hands on her body, to—

No. Such thoughts were stupid. And dangerous. They would only mess everything up. She'd had a nice time here, but she couldn't stay forever. Besides, Ralph probably wasn't interested. He probably still held a torch for Lauren. How could she, a museum archivist who spent her days amongst dusty old tomes and dusty old bones, compete with a jazz drummer? And he was almost a hundred years older than her. Ew, ew, ew. No. She wasn't going to fall in love with some centenarian, no matter how cute he was. Of course, she knew he wasn't really older than her; in fact, if counted by their actual ages, he was four months younger. But if that was what she must tell herself to get rid of this pounding in her heart and this burning in her veins...

So why was she still holding on to him? And why did she part her mouth as well and lean toward him, closing that tiny gap between them—

"Oh, there you are!" Mai shouted from the doorway of the dance hall. "Come in, you're missing the tango!"

They sprang away from each other like two teenagers caught by a parent and stood awkwardly apart, not knowing where to look or what to do. Then Ralph cleared his throat and extended a hand. "After you," he said.

As Thu went past Mai to enter the sweltering interior of the dance hall, she saw the other girl grin like a weasel amongst chickens. "Shut it," she grumbled at Mai, but Mai's grin only got wider. Nothing happened anyway, Thu thought defensively, even though she couldn't help feeling a pang of disappointment at that.

***

They danced late into the night. Thu didn't improve much, but she learned to have fun with it and not mind when she made the wrong move. After the tango, it was the waltz, which she did better, and something Ralph called the quickstep, which was so fast and energetic that it left her quite breathless.

Laughing, they returned to the table to find that Mai and Louis were gone. When Thu asked if they'd seen the couple leave, Mai's two friends only shrugged and gave her meaningful looks. Thu's conscience pricked, remembering how Louis had tried to grope her. Should she have warned Mai? Would the girl even listen? Thu tried to put the whole thing out of her mind. After all, it wasn't her business, and she must remember not to apply her modern thinking to these people's lives.

Ralph walked her back to her boarding house. "Would you like to come in?" she asked as they reached the front door. Then, realizing that he might take it the wrong way, she quickly added, "It's just that I have a surprise for you." No, that sounds worse.

"Didn't it ruin the surprise though, you telling me about it?" Ralph said, grinning.

"Not if you don't know what it is yet."

They went quietly up to her room—her landlady would have a conniption fit if she found out Thu was bringing home not just a man, but a Westerner, no less. Ralph stood awkwardly looking around the little room with its simple furniture—just a table and two chairs, a cupboard, a dresser, and a bamboo screen to hide the bed.

"Close your eyes," she told him. Good Heavens, it really does sound like I'm trying to—

He obeyed, a smile still hovering on his lips. Thu went to her cupboard and took out the little gateau she'd bought from a Western-style bakery on Sugar Street, stuck a candle on top, and lit it. "Now open them."

Ralph did, and his face lit up even more brightly than the candle. "Oh," he said, his voice soft. "You shouldn't have."

"It's no trouble," she said. "Just don't make me sing 'Happy Birthday', because I absolutely cannot hold a tune." She held the cake up to him with a grin. "I don't want to torture you with my singing. It's your birthday after all."

He closed his eyes again and blew out the candle. "No, you don't have to sing," he said, looking at her with glittering eyes. "You've done more for me than anyone ever has. Thank you, Autumn." He was right. It did sound more romantic.

He pulled her into a hug.

"Careful of the cake!" Thu squealed.

"Oh—"

Laughing, Ralph leaned down to inspect the cake while Thu lifted her head to look at him, inadvertently bringing their faces so close to each other that their lips touched briefly.

It was so brief that Thu wasn't even sure if it had really happened.

"Sorry," Ralph mumbled, pulling back.

"No, it's fine—"

"I should go."

"Don't forget your cake."

"I won't. Good night."

He took the cake, and, without looking at her, ran out the door.

She leaned against the door, her whole body tense, half expecting him to come back, half afraid that he would. Only when his footsteps had faded away completely that she started to relax, though the tingling on her lips, where their mouths had touched, remained, and the yearning in her heart remained for even longer.

Chapter 9

[theomnicode]

Coming of Age; The lessons in immortality and moral high grounding

The longest meta often starts with the tiniest thing.

One thing in Cosmic Garou's design is an interesting one to note.

Long ears.

It's not only demonic, but elvish as well.

It is by no means accidental, because elves who in popular culture posses such long ears, often denote long life, vitality and immortality.

I'd like to borrow something I found from quora, from Douglas Adam's Hitchiker's guide to galaxy. An answer to question:

Do the Elves in Tolkien’s mythos ever go insane from living too long? Do any of them resent being immortal?

I think this topic is covered very nicely in Douglas Adams' book “Life, the Universe and Everything - Wikipedia ”, the third book in his five book trilogy “The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy”: Wowbagger the Infinitely Prolonged was-indeed, is - one of the Universe's very small number of immortal beings. Those who are born immortal instinctively know how to cope with it, but Wowbagger was not one of them. Indeed he had come to hate them, the load of serene bastards. He had had his immortality thrust upon him by an unfortunate accident with an irrational particle accelerator, a liquid lunch and a pair of rubber bands. The precise details of the accident are not important because no one has ever managed to duplicate the exact circumstances under which it happened, and many people have ended up looking very silly, or dead, or both, trying. Wowbagger closed his eyes in a grim and weary expression, put some light jazz on the ship's stereo, and reflected that he could have made it if it hadn't been for Sunday afternoons, he really could have done. To begin with it was fun, he had a ball, living dangerously, taking risks, cleaning up on high-yield long-term investments, and just generally outliving the hell out of everybody. In the end, it was the Sunday afternoons he couldn't cope with, and that terrible listlessness which starts to set in at about 2.55, when you know that you've had all the baths you can usefully have that day, that however hard you stare at any given paragraph in the papers you will never actually read it, or use the revolutionary new pruning technique it describes, and that as you stare at the clock the hands will move relentlessly on to four o'clock, and you will enter the long dark teatime of the soul. So things began to pall for him. The merry smiles he used to wear at other people's funerals began to fade. He began to despise the Universe in general, and everyone in it in particular.

"So, Elves, having been created immortal, would live happily in Valinor until the end of time. Humans, if they had been granted their wish of immortality, wouldn’t know how to cope with it."

Elves are naturally immortal; like the Ainur, they are bound to Arda until its End. Elves are immune to all diseases, and they can recover from wounds which would normally kill a mortal Man.[1]:218-9

Nonetheless, Elves can be physically slain or die of grief and weariness.

Saitama denotes all the signs of immortality as well, yet his body is still human, because he stubbornly clings to his humanity. And so his body is still capable of dying.

So in this, Garou's story and one of the themes in OPM is a coming-of-age, where Garou matures enough to realize the cost of attaining such power and takes responsibility for his actions.

Of growing and becoming an old and weary soul, of having your loved ones die before you.

That's why he chose to not remain so and chose to go out in his own terms and not linger around trying to find redemption. Otherwise he'd just become insane.

Humans, when immortality is thrust on them, would not know how to cope with it. There is one being that would know this fact better than anybody else. The one who imposed those limits on humankind.

Yet said being is actually already dead but stubbornly clinging to a human-resembling form and takes the identities and forms of other people because it has none of it's own. Or perhaps it resents itself and so hides behind a facade.

Makes you think who could have killed such a being and locked it away behind a dimensional barrier. If not himself.

So in the cruellest way possible, Future Garou learned an important lesson; not to dabble with powers he does not know to justify being moral police. The consequences are too severe.

That's why he only got a mere fraction of the power and why he was allowed to go out on his own terms. So the lesson will stick harder when it becomes apparent that he's not out of the woods yet. Because he's definitely not allowed to live a long life no or become immortal in the mortal world.

OPM God could have taken his life, yet he did not.

We're really making assumptions here that how long Garou spent touching God's hand is the reason why he got only a small portion of his powers imparted to him.

Instead of OPM God choosing to only impart him with a small fraction.

Or that the gesture itself is entirely meaningless in the grand scheme of things; that the true meaning of taking God's hand is accepting, wanting help and willingness to take that power and touching the hand makes the contract more binding when the person is manipulated to follow through with thinking of it as moral obligation.

It's not like he has to tell them what to do with the power, after all, their own moral code will make certain that they do exactly as he emotionally manipulates them to confidently act.

Like a puppet chessmaster, the space moral police lawyer. Also known as Advocate.

They'd still be a puppet, even if they have free will, when they get manipulated into thinking that they can justify their current actions. And why such manipulation is so hard to shake off by telling them they're being controlled, because their own hard convictions lead them on.

Being able to take the moral high ground, when one has so many problems with society's moral values and everyone else's values one deem bad, is a helluva drug indeed.

(Nice parallel btw)

If it's not apparent, Garou is not the only one who got taught an important lesson that will stick.

Don't take the moral high ground and flaunt that power imbalance. The consequences are too severe. The resulting ignorance and superiority complex are not worth it.

Being able to justify anything one does on the cognitive side is only fooling oneself into becoming a hypocrite.

Consider using heart and empathy instead.

--

So what did we learn about chasing and gaining power, attaining immortality and moral high grounding?

Fucking Don't. Don't fucking do it. Because at the end of the day, people still have to accept responsibility for their own actions if they're to be an actual mature person. Physically and mentally.

The higher moral ground one takes, the harder will be the fall when one slips off the edge.

Oh and the inner critic, Big Brother, is watching, with a magnifying glass in hand.

--

(Funny how your own metas make you sound like a bloody hypocrite huh? There is a lot of power in written and spoken words too. It certainly does make one consider. That's how you know ONE's writing is super-effective. Preach.)

Edit: You know it's kind of creepy when I write this shit for multiple hours, post and then I come back and see ONE has posted an omake in Mob Psycho about the same fucking thing.

Well, I fucking guess I'm on the right track with the theme he wants to tell ppfpfpf. Preaching without action or empathy is just being a dumbass hypocrite.

[bnnuy-wabbit]

HAAIIIIII you can call me Lago, im 21 (i dont know how EITHER), im just some guy*. this is my main blog and where i throw funny things that makes my brain produce juices and also random ass personal poasts.

one of those he/shes they never warned you about (pathogenic variant they have yet to make any vaccines to protect you from)

my art tag is #feral art tag.

there will be adult things in this blog because im an adult. follow at your own risk etc. were horny in here towards men occasionaly.

I'm brazilian. From Brazil. As in born here, living here and stuck here for the foreseeable future. é nois 🤙

Everybody says I'm really nice! I am Unable to hit people up first though, but if you'd like to be friends, send me an ask and I'll give you my discord!!!!

i have many interests (mostly music and nerd shit) and funny things that I'll be putting under the read more lest this post get Unbearably Big. There are flashing blinkies down there by the way.

OK SO INTERESTS. I like MANY things! and i have favorite things! I think it's really cool of me to have favorites. i decided I'm going to wear them on my sleeve. anyways Here's some things i Like.

MUSIC!!! its one of my favorite things ever. I play the guitar and a bit of bass. heres stuff in no particular order of favoriteness. Just stuff i care enough right now to remember.

Linkin Park (meteora, hybrid theory <3)

My Chemical Romance

Red Hot Chili Peppers

Mindless Self Indulgence

scalene

Rammstein

Ft-rj (listen to it or i am going to chase you with a broom)

francisco el hombre (i recommend the rasgacabeza album)

danny bond

2000-10s pop!!! fuck it, lady gaga, britney spears, kesha, katy perry, black eyed peas, that sorta jazz.

Every single Homestuck song there is. i have listened to all of them multiple times. My favorite albums are colours and mayhem and also the beforus fan album.

Dad rock (acdc, queen, talking heads, nirvana, judas priest, Some pink floyd etc)

Industrial and Adjacent. I've been listening to code:redcore a lot and some grammostola actaeon lately. processor also fucks.

OTHER THINGS I ENJOY

Eragon (the books)

Disco elysium.

ADVENTURE TIME. I AM OBSESSED.

How to train your dragon (the books. specifically.)

Animated movies!!! Specially the hand drawn ones.

My horrible little OCs (@honsebeasts just go there but also Beware.)

Worldbuilding. I do aliens and monster speculative biology. Most of my thoughts on it are on the Above mentioned blog though.

Real life physiology and anatomy also

MEN (and like 3 fictional women.)

HORSES!!!!!!!!!!!

stranger things

Pokemen (i do not know a single thing after gen 6 though.)

Dungeons and dragons, sometimes

Traditional art like watercolors and oil pastels

Drawing my blorbos in the same side facing pose or just standing there.

Drawing in General actually! Designing characters is my passion

Fictional fathers

sewing and felting and sculpting and painting and singing and playing

COLORS. i love colors. i love looking at them. i love playing with them. i would like to eat them if i could. i love warm palettes.

Hiveswap (pissing screaming CRYING)

MONSTERS!!!!!! They're really cool and gay and hot.

Portal (the games. all of them. glafos........ kissing her)

Half Life.

y2k and 80s-90s vibes. i think its awesome.

I am afflicted by the human condition and also a few other funnier conditions. my brain and my body dont work right.

If you want to know the brunt of the brain ones: autism adhd avpd. they all impact heavily how i interact with people with people. Sorry in advance if i can't keep conversation going.

I'm some sort of queer thing. If we need to get really specific, id say "bisexual aromantic bigender femme", mostly into men and butches, but Queer will do just fine. I'm a self entitled part time pretty fag and ugly dyke in my free hours. Intersex it turns out.

[blackacre13]

Please do THE PROPOSAL PART 6 PLEASE

Part 13 of the Proposal AU was here; Here's Part 14!

“When’s the last time you cried?” Debbie pressed, hoping to find out it was a cheesy movie or a secret poem Lou liked to read.

Lou thought for a moment before sitting up, smiling weakly at Debbie, showing that rare spot of vulnerability again. “After I fired Becker,” she admitted, looking down at her shoes. “Even if he is a supreme asshole. I still felt like a prick. And well…nobody ever likes the bitch who fires them, you know? And nobody ever thinks about the person who has to make the decisions, packing up at the end of the day and then going home alone and sitting with the weight of what they’ve done. I ruined someone’s life. I don’t blame him for hating me.”

“You were just doing your job,” Debbie sympathized, completely mesmerized by this whole new side of Lou she was seeing.

“And sometimes I hate being good at my job,” the blonde sighed. She cleared her throat, standing up from the bed, snapping her fingers together. “Right. Anyway. Where were we?”

“The proposal,” Debbie spoke softly, wondering the next time she’d sneak a flicker of this side of Lou. Or if she never would again.

“I’ve got it covered,” Lou winked, her face all-business again before tossing Debbie a knowing smirk. “What? I want your reaction to be genuine.”

“My reaction to a retelling of a story I was supposed to be a part of but won’t have any memory of what happened?”

“Proposals are typically a surprise, Deborah.”

“In the moment.”

“You weren’t surprised by my proposition?” The blonde asked, raising a brow.

“Lou, I swear—“

“Hey,” she scolded, but she was cracking up. “Watch it, Ocean. you’re still my assistant you know.”

“Please,” Debbie snorted, risking some cockiness. She was realizing how much Lou seemed to like it and there was something about impressing the blonde that made her feel victorious. Like she had some sort of secret with her. “You were going to promote me anyway.”

“You sure about that?” Lou asked, looking at her sideways.

“Nope,” Debbie laughed honestly, her shoulders shaking. “Not at all.”

She turned to examine her reflection in the mirror, the blonde appearing behind her, checking her own eyeliner. Debbie’s gaze shifted to the blonde in the reflection, almost forgetting to look at herself and blushing as blue eyes caught her brown ones, but Lou let her keep the moment, merely clearing her throat once again as she hooked her head towards the door.

“Come on,” Lou murmured, offering a hand that Debbie took nervously. “Let’s give them a show.”

The engagement party was apparently in full swing by the time they made it back to the living room, throngs of people talking and eating with the sound of jazz music plating somewhere in the distance.

Lou looked completely overwhelmed instead of her donning her usual in-control, hard shell exterior, but Debbie squeezed her hand and the blonde seemed appreciative.

They made their way into the crowd, Debbie hoping to keep away from the guests and focus on the food. Lou seemed to have the same idea as they both made a beeline for a buffet table, Debbie dumping a bunch of shrimp cocktail on her plate as Lou threw a pile of cheese cubes and pepperoni on hers before the two of them turned to each other and shared a grin.

Debbie was about to offer an escape to the back porch so they could hide out with their snacks and avoid humanity for a spell, but they had already been caught, some aunt/cousin/or other that Debbie could never remember by name was tapping on her shoulder and screaming congratulations and just tugging at Lou with a “God! Let me look at this one! Isn’t she just gorgeous?”

There wasn’t going to be time for an escape.

Another uncle came up, all business, shaking Lou’s hand and asking how long she’d been with the record company.

“Uh…since college,” Lou offered, before popping a piece of cheese in her mouth, seemingly to avoid any further questions.

Debbie saw that she was being modest. “She’s been there since she was nineteen. Youngest exec the company’s ever had. She’s a hot commodity.”

She elbowed the blonde, nudging her to smile. She was proud of Lou, and why shouldn’t she be, whether she was a fiancee, assistant or stranger. Anyone had to admit that Lou Miller was a force to be reckoned with.

But then Debbie’s father was back in the circle of people that was slowly becoming a crowd. And she knew no good was going to come of this.

“But who’s counting?” Lou smiled, waving off Debbie’s attempt to show her off.

“No,” Dennis frowned, his eyes far away, brows furrowed. Debbie knew he was trying to count. Trying to do the math of the age difference between her and Lou. He was bitter. And suspicious. And he was stubborn as all hell. “How many years is that? Exactly.”

Debbie shot her father a look and Lou’s hand came over Debbie’s arm, grabbing it almost protectively. Possessively. 

“Well,” Lou sighed. “I guess that’s what? Sixteen, seventeen years. Exactly,” she mocked for good measure.

“I was never good with big numbers,” Dennis went on as Debbie tried and failed not to grit her teeth. “That makes you what? Thirty-six now?”

“Thirty seven,” Lou coughed, her eyes hardening. “Did you want my star sign? ID? Copy of my fingerprints?”

“I think that’s enough questioning for now,” Debbie grimaced, moving Lou out of her father’s line of vision. “This is a party. Not an interrogation.”

“Yes, it is a party!” Ida sang, coming into the circle that was now dispersing uncomfortably. “An engagement party at that! And we need to know the story.”

“What story?” A younger man asked, a piece of ciabatta toast dangling from his lips.

“Fuck,” Debbie cursed, her hand falling limp against Lou’s side.

“Oh, Rusty!” Ida sang. “Deborah, did you see who came?”

“Robert,” Debbie growled, her nails digging into Lou’s arm as the blonde shot her an intrigued look. “Who invited you?”

“Your dad,” he laughed, licking at his thumb, offering the now saliva ridden hand to Lou. “Who else? And you must be Lewis.”

“It’s Lou,” the blonde seethed, nostrils flaring. “Have you seen Debbie’s ring?” She asked, shoving the diamond in the man’s face as his eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.