#special mention goes to the guy who was stoned out of his mind looking for a crochet kit

[icomefromthemountains]

So true bestie <3

Had a weird strange day here’s a cat I met at work

Her name is Buttons and I would die for her

[mybl--dyvalentine]

Casual જ⁀➴ DK

✮ non idol au! dk x gn! reader

✮ Summary: You and DK have a special relationship. Although, he didn't think it was the same that you thought it was.

✮ Genre: Angst

✮ Word Count: 1,704

✮ Warnings: Suggestive actions mentioned (Kissing, FWB, all that stuff).

Be prepared for the relationship to end.

No sleepovers.

Absolutely no strings attached.

These three rules were set in stone during your first time meeting DK. They were there in order to prevent either you or him from believing that your relationship with each other was anything more than a friends with benefits situation.

---

Sun rays shined through your windshield, and you lowered your sunvisor as you drove through the streets. It was around 6 pm and you were headed to your friend's house for his party. Your phone started ringing at the stop light, and you reached out to answer the call.

"Heyyy Y/n! Where are you right now?" He questions.

"Um... I'm around 6 minutes away," you responded.

"Alright! I'll see you in a bit then."

---

You park on the side of the curb and get out of your car. While walking up to the front door, it opens, and your friend, Jackson, greets you with a smile.

"Y/n! It's so good to see you." He walks over with his arms open.

You accept his hug, "It's nice to see you too. Am I the last to arrive?"

"Nope. Still waiting on DK," he says with a sigh.

You've heard from Jackson that DK usually runs late. After giving him a nod and a quiet "ok," you enter the house. It's fully decorated with lots of "Happy Birthday!" everywhere. There are lots of people as well, some of whom you recognize.

"Do you want something to drink?" Jackson asks.

"Yes, thank you," You respond.

Jackson pours you a drink, and you take it from his hand. As you take a seat on one of the sofas, Jackson goes out to greet DK. You watch them as you take a sip of your drink. Jackson is laughing and motioning DK inside. DK looks around, and his eyes land on yours. Your gaze lingers as his shifts away to look at other parts of the house.

Jackson dismisses himself from DK and goes upstairs. You finally take your eyes off of him and pull out your phone to scroll while taking sips of your drink. The loud music and constant conversations make it hard to be aware of your surroundings. It wasn't long until a pair of shoes appeared just above your phone. You slowly look up from your phone to see the guy whose eyes stayed on yours for longer than a minute.

"Hi..." He smiles sheepishly and says, "I saw you earlier and thought you could use someone to talk to."

"Oh! Um... sure. I guess," you say.

The two of you began to have a conversation for so long that neither of you noticed that everyone had left.

"Hey guys, I'm beat. If you need anything, just go for it. Also text me if you plan on leaving, but you guys could use my guest room if you'd like," Jackson says while yawning.

"Alright, thanks!" Both of you say in unison.

You watch Jackson as he makes his way upstairs and enters his room. You look back at DK, the guy who's told you all of his talents, jokes, and stories while you just listened. He's been staring at you.

"It's late. I recommend staying in the guest room with me," he says.

You give him a nod, and you both get up to get ready for bed. By the time you had finished, DK had just entered the guest room. Upon entering, he just stood there, not moving an inch.

"What could he be staring at?" You thought to yourself.

Moving your head to the side in order to see why DK was so stunned, you find yourself also stopping in your tracks. There was only one bed.

"I'll sleep on the floor," he says.

"Oh no, I couldn't just take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor instead," you say.

"No, I insist. You deserve the bed."

"But-"

"No buts."

"DK, there's enough space for both of us."

He opens his mouth to respond, but pauses for a moment.

"You... don't mind?"

"Of course not! I wouldn't want either of us sleeping on the floor, to be honest."

"O-okay.."

Even after agreeing to the plan, neither of you moved from your spots. Perhaps due to the nervousness of being in the same bed with someone you just met. Or maybe it was due to the unidentifiable feeling that resided in you. You couldn't tell exactly what it was. It wasn't unpleasant, though, more like butterflies flying around in your stomach. The feeling that was inside of you was, undoubtedly, attraction.

He made the first step, walking towards the bed. He sat down and slowly got under the covers. You quickly followed suit. Both of you turned off the lamps on the side tables. Moonlight was the only thing illuminating the room. It was still dark, but you could still make out silhouettes.

There was lots of tossing and turning from the two of you. It ended up with you guys being back to back with each other. You felt as if you were about to burst by being this close to an attractive guy who seems to like you back. Although there were no words being said, it was as if he knew what you were thinking. You both quickly turn to the other side to face each other. The light from the moon made his face seem even more ethereal.

"Can I kiss you?"

Those words echoed throughout your head. The sudden question made you stop thinking about everything else. It was as if time had stopped entirely.

"Yeah."

The comforter rustled as DK gently grabbed your face and pulled you closer. The moment your lips touched his, every restriction you had was gone. It got heated. Fast. His hands traveled around your body, outlining it as he continued to make out with you. Your hands began to explore his body as well. Both pairs of hands explored until they landed on each other. You stopped kissing him to breathe. Your pants filling the silent room.

"What... what are we?" You ask.

"We could be friends with benefits if you'd like that," he responds, still breathing heavily.

You stayed silent for a bit to think.

"Friends with benefits, huh. Sure."

---

A year passes as your relationship with DK grows. You both agreed on being friends with benefits, but you started to get the idea that DK's opinion on your relationship has changed. The reason you got this idea in the first place is because of what happened 6 months into the agreement.

===

Your phone pings, alerting you that someone texted you.

DK: You want to come over later tonight? Like around 7 pm. Y/n: I'm down. DK: Okay, see you later then. Y/n: See you!

You've been frequenting DK's place quite often. Around this point, everyone knew the two of you were friends with benefits. There were some who initially thought you guys were dating. DK squashed those rumors by saying you guys were just "casual." Even his mom knew the two of you were close. Close enough that she would invite you to eat at her place.

After getting ready, you drove to DK's house for your weekly visit. It felt the same each time. You were in and out of his house to avoid anything else happening. This time, though, it was different. DK was drinking before your arrival, and by the time you got there, he was already quite drunk.

He gave you drinks as well as refilling his own. As the night progressed, both of you started becoming very drunk.

"Y'know... I think of us sometimes," DK slurred.

"really?" you question.

"Y-eah. Like, we'd have an apartment and live together or something. We'd probably be together by then, too. I really wonder what it would be like. Us. Dating."

You couldn't respond. This broke the third rule, and you knew that. But some say that drunk people are more likely to say the truth. Is this what he really felt?

"Do you... mean that?" You ask.

He looks at you and says, "yeah."

===

After that happened, everything changed. Your weekly visits turned into you moving in, and it seemed as if you two were getting too close. But after 1 year, he decided it was over. Whenever someone asked DK if the two of you were dating, he would always respond that you two weren't together. That you were just someone he'd hook up with. Of course, after moving in and living together for a couple months, you were angry. Angry that he would just act like nothing happened. Act like what he said and did had no weight to it. By the third time you heard the rumors of DK denying your relationship, you've had enough.

---

"What the hell are you thinking?" You yell.

He takes a step back, shocked by your first words to him were you yelling at him.

"What do you mean?" He questions.

"You know what I mean. You've been going around denying that we're dating."

"We aren't."

It felt like your heart had stopped.

"What? Don't tell me you forgot what you said 6 months ago."

He stared at you, unable to respond. His words were stuck in his throat.

"You told me that you wished we were together. That we would have an apartment and a life together. I asked if that's what you truly wanted, and then you agreed. I even moved in! But after that, you've been distancing yourself. Was all of that a lie?"

His hands turned into fists, and his eyes left yours. You waited for a response. For at least something from him. But in the end, there was nothing. He had nothing left to say.

"I hate that I let this drag on for so long. I can't believe you would lead me on like that. I can't believe I fooled myself into believing that you meant what you said."

You quickly turned around and walked to the door.

Without looking back, you say, "You really have nothing else to say to me?"

The silence was deafening. For both you and him.

You walk out the door and close it with tears threatening to leave your eyes.

DK reaches out to the closed door, "y/n..."

[buttdumplin]

A John Price meet-the-fam special!! This is pure, indulgent fluff.

cw: gn!reader, latine reader word count: 1.2k

When Price first meets your family, it goes over smoother than fucking water over a polished worry stone. It just is. You thought it might go like that, knowing that he’d do practically anything to make himself fit in as seamlessly as possible. But you also knew that bringing home a white guy always comes with a very specific brand of first interactions.

You prep him for the teasing that’s to come, about his accent, about his complexion, about the food he eats. John takes it all in very seriously, nodding along and asking probing questions. It’s all for your benefit, and he’s incredibly mindful of that. You don’t necessarily need to know he’s already got a plan of action, though.

By the time you arrive at the family home, you’re a little stiff, braced for the barrage of probing questions that’s to come. You can tell the family is curious, you see the tías eyeing up and down. But there’s no interrogation this time. Because John beats them to it. He’s polite and answers all the niceties as respectfully as he can. And then he immediately launches into offering up information, as cryptic as it may be. He dons that dimpled smile of his and tells them what he can.

“I’ve been at this job for a while now, but I’m retiring soon. It’s actually my personal life that I'm more invested in improving now.” 

“I’m hoping to buy a home in the very near future. Maybe like this one, a big family place. I’ve been tucking away money for it for a while now.”

“I’ve had to spend a lot of time away, but I’m really looking forward to staying home with this one.”

The tías are swooning when he makes intense eye contact with you across the table as he speaks. He’s not hiding any kind of intentions, from you or them. None of the information is particularly new to you, but hearing him say it out loud? In front of all the people important to you? It’s one thing when it’s quietly discussed in the early hours of the morning. It’s another thing entirely to hear it all said in such a permanent way.

At one point, your godmother, as entrometida as she always is, mentions she’s willing to go shopping with him if he’s ever in need of a ring, says she’s always had a good eye for your style.

“Oh, no. Se lo agradezco, pero ya no va a ser necesario,” he replies with an even bigger smile, and it’s got the women hollering. They’d take a bite out of him if they could. John carries himself with the firm confidence of knowing who he is, and they can see that. They respect it.

The tías, predictably, also do everything they can to keep you two physically apart. You’re put on comal duty, keeping you in the deep corner of the kitchen where he can’t reach you. John himself doesn’t try to reach for you, wanting to spare you the godforsaken “chiflando y aplaudiendo” even at your big age. So he keeps busy by setting the table, asking only where he can find the cups and tableware. They all ooh and aah.

“Ven? Ni se le tuvo que pedir,” they shout at the tíos, pointing at John’s busy hands.

A few questions do pop up once dinner is set. Do you eat this kind of food? Have you had this before? Do you like it? Tíos razz him into adding more and more salsa on his food, and John, knowing full well how it all ends, goes along with it. He’s managed to build up some tolerance that he’s quite proud of, but there is no way that’s saving him. He knows what he’s in for. A single bite and his face turns so red it’s almost purple, his coughing making it hard for him to get water down. The tíos laugh and he’s smiling along with them, the tías rushing to get more water and napkins and a cup of milk because “I heard this helps white people?” You swap his plate out for a new one while they’re all caught up with John, taking a few bites of food to try to match it to the dish he had before. 

A bubble of softness blooms in the room. The tías are cooing over him, consoling him after his “brave attempt.” The tíos take turns patting his back, smiling down proudly at him for having met their challenge. He smiles back at you from across the table, knowing full well what you’ve done to his food, spotting a few more veggies than he’s originally served himself. The tablecloth is long, surely they won’t spot him gently nudging your foot with his own. 

When your godfather invites him out onto the porch for a smoke, John knows it’s his time to shine. He asks you to stay inside with a wink. He brought those Cuban cigars with him for a reason, he’s sure he’ll make it through. You hold him at the door for a second longer, just enough to give him a tender kiss before sending him along. Neither of you missed the way your godfather so clearly recognizes the way John moves, his own military past helping read further into the man you’ve brought home. You know there’s a good chance of this not going perfectly. 

Ignoring the calls from your tías, you crawl to sit below the window that lets out right behind them. They both let out soft grunts as they settle into their chairs, a long hum of appreciation from your godfather clearly signaling John has opened the cigar box for him. It’s silent for a while. The only sounds come from the lighter and their soft exhalations. Then a soft rustling begins. It’s not the trees, it’s too muted for that. It’s not gravel, they aren’t going anywhere and they certainly didn’t make their getting-up grunts. No, it’s their clothes. Because they’ve come up with hand signs on the spot, across languages, so you can’t listen in. 

There’s some chuckling, surely that’s a good sign! But the low sigh coming shortly after isn’t very encouraging. You try to make sense of it somehow, but there’s no distinct rhythm to it. And suddenly you’re twelve again and trying to sneak a peek. You may not need a stool to help you, you’re tall enough to see through the window on your tiptoes. Maybe if you do it slowly, they won’t notice. So slowly it goes, your knees creaking as you inch up. Their rustling continues; good, they haven’t noticed. Yet as stealthy as you try to be, they’re both looking directly at you as you finally get eyes on them. Their smiles all too knowing. You godfather winks at you, clicking his tongue fondly. He holds a hand up before you can say anything, groaning a little as he rises. He takes a beat to look down at John. You’re all frozen for a moment. And then your godfather’s hand comes down firmly on John’s shoulder, giving him a sturdy shake. 

“Me meto antes de que la vieja huela todo este humo,” he says. It’s done. No disaster, just acceptance.

When you turn back to John, he’s already got a mad grin on his face, “See? This old white boy’s still got some moves.”

AN: I am buckled the fuck in for all this latine reader content, so yall will be seeing a whole lot more of it. Thank you again to @mikichko!!! For your support and encouragement, and your incredibly generous feedback. I'm doing this to feed us both.

Let me know if yall wanna see anything with latine reader in particular!!

[jils-things]

JILLLL‼️ TACKLES YOU TO THE GROUND HELLOO... ask game 3, 7, 9, 10, 16 for Mrs. Jaide Stone please 🫶🩷 I know u already ramble a lot abt her and I probably already know almost everything, but I WANNA HEAR U RAMBLE STILL

GOODNESS GRACIOUS THAT IS A LOT. A LOOOOT. you trying to study her like a lil specimen for real and you know what. ill take that because she is nothing short of SMALL DETAILS she is so special to ME THANK U

3. how do the other characters generally feel about your self insert?

let's go with gold first, of course, hehe. gold has witnessed her change a lot, she used to be very playful with gold - rollerskating and skateboarding together in the park. she was not as refined as she is today and she's certainly rough around the edges when she was younger! he loves her for being able to find time to play with him even as an older sister (who can be busy). he's aware that she's changed so much but it doenst change the fact he still knows her deep down and loves her regardless. he's usually very relaxed with her, but he also knows when not to step on the "you are fucked" territory but he still does anyway lol because she will. probably be a little irritated by him HDFJKSAHJSFAHHAA just because theyre close doesnt mean she doesnt drag him out of danger and reprimand all the time 😭😭😭its tough love and big sister energy this is normal.

sapphire ADORES her. she looks up to her, sees her as her guardian and she sometimes goes to her for comfort when it comes to emotions because she's pretty bad at controlling them, especially romantic feelings. jaide sees a lot of herself in sapphire and does her best to counsel her and push her to the right path :3 sapphire picks up wild berries for her!

i wanna mention wallace here because hes so funny to me for being closely connected to steven and ruby ok listen. jaide is like. hoooly shit. you are the flashiest man alive. what the fuck. (<- in her mind). ruby is such a big wallace fan. ruby would go to his mom and go mommmm mom i really look up to wallace i wanna be just like him and his ability to make pkm.n ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS. ruby would show her how he looks like and shes like. oh..... ruby youre not gonna dress like that are you (SLASH LH IM REFERRING TO HIS ORAS OUTFIT ITS JUST SO FUNNY TO ME, LOOK IT UP) AND WALLACE IS CLOSE FRIENDS WITH STEVEN SO IMAGINE STEVEN GOING LIKE "honey i have a good friend of mine who has helped me a lot in the past. it would mean a lot to me if you met him too!" AND ITS WALLACE ASDJFAHFKSAGHSDDKJSDGJAS SORRY THIS HAS BEEN A RUNNING JOKE FOR ME I HAD TO MENTION IT. I PROMISE YOU I LIKE WALLACE AND EVEN MORE IN POKEMAS HES SO SWEET ASFSHDFSDJKHSDKJA

7. would any other characters (besides your f/o) have a crush on your self insert?

GOOD GRIEF LITTLE KNOWN FACT ABT ME AHSFDKGFDSGHSA I ALMOST FELL FOR PO.KESPE!BILL (YES THE ONE NERO IS KISSING) HAFSDJGHGDS BUT I RESTRAINED MYSELF LMAOOO so i guess i will associate him with that????? (THEY NEVER EVEN MET. CRACKSHIP TERRITORY LETS GO) i do wonder who would look cute next to madam stone however i would love to hear it sahsfdsajhf (no dont say riley im saving him AEHM) maybe himbos would cute next to her idkkk wiwiw guys help me find a cute crackship HEAUHAHAHAHHAA

9. who are your self insert’s closest friends?

AAIAUAUAUUU PROFESSOR SY.CAMORE!!!!!!!!!! WIWIWIWIWI (MY DAD IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE SHHH) steven has interacted with him in the anime and i loved it smmm huhu and they both have the common interest in mega stones and i think steven would take her with him to ka.los to meet sy.camore and they would get along very well!!! i think s.ycamore would be such a tease abt jaide being steven's wife ahuhuhu and he'd say stuff to make steven embarrassed. "dear jaide, did you know your - heh, husband steven tends to go on a daze when i mention your name? he's so fond of you that he had to bring you all the way here, huh?" and then he chuckles. STEVEN IS GONNA HAVE A WORD WITH HIM LATER 💥💥💥💥💥JAIDE ONLY LEARNED THIS TODAY AND WILL PROBABLY THINK OF THIS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY

can i say maroon hallo 🤓🤓🤓 NO BUT LIKE WWUWWAAA they are definitely best friends in my eyes, theyre both mothers and their son/brother are close with each other!!! how can i ignore that?!?!? maroon would always give her nice pastries for jaide and her family to eat - lots of well wishes from each other and i imagine jaide would occasionally visit ka.nto (since she also goes to jo.hto to say hi to her ma and brother) and they would just find a lot of solidarity with each other <333 heck i can even imagine if gold decided to visit silver and kris at maroon's place and jaide would call her and ask to watch over him wiwiiw JUST. MOMS BEING FRIENDS WWWWWW

10. how do the other characters feel about your self insert and f/o’s relationship?

AFJMSAKLGFSJGHSAFJSDFKSALGAS NUMBER ONE CONTENDER GOLD AGAIN GOTRDAMNIT GOLD WOULD NOT LIKE STEVEN AT FIRST because he thought he was a part of team rocket (he has the money, he wears an all black suit, something all team rock.et members wear, and gold's dumb brain thinking this makes sense to him) HES SO OVERPROTECTIVE TRUST ME ESP IN THE DATING PHASE DUDE WILLGET SO MAD IF JAIDE SAYS SHES GOING TO HO.ENN "no you are not talking to that blue haired kid" (aha reference) but is his complaining gonna stop? no <3 and then they get married and ruby is gold's nephew and now hes crying. whos winning huh? and whos the clown? gold. thank you.

eventually gold does warm up to steven and finds him to be a very fun battling rival,,, also would probably ask for cash because brother in law privilege i guess. LMFAO. yk steven doesnt mind that actually. jaide has told steven about her family so he knows when to be serious with him or not. he's a good man :3

overall i think many would not actually know about steven's love life because he's private about it. only certain people know about it (the dex.holders, jaide's/steven's family and friends, and zinnia unfortunately) steven is protecting her identity and he wants it that way because he's famous in ho.enn for many reasons. especially for the fact that he has a family, he's very protective of ruby because of the past events that occured and he hopes it wont happen again and it wont be exploited. the only tip of the iceberg knowledge that the public would know is that hes married, he has a child, thats all. heck, i bet people think it would be easy to spot steven's child for his classic blue hair BUT PLOT TWIST RUBY INHERITED 90% OF JAIDES DNA

16. freebie! name a fact about your self insert you want everyone to know.

jaide stone almost adopted blake (b.w2) before i settled with ilynne being connected to blake. cant believe nero called him blake stone once 💥💥💥💥 WAHUSAHUHFHSHFHSA

[semimedieval]

a) lupus comforting the baby unicorns is so charming for all that he’s like “ugh i don’t want to be teen unicorn dad!!!” horseboy alert horseboy alert. lupus is SUCH a horseboy and furthermore the elder monoceros is also a horseboy and also of course azalea is a horsegirl. never forget this.

b) POP CULTURE CRIMES HAVE STARTED AND THEY WILL NOT END EVER AGAIN

"Howl is better,” replied Quartz. “His hair is so beautiful....” Alan scowled slightly at the mention of Howl. What was so special about some magician from a book and an anime?

the fucking implication that diana wynne jones and hayao miyazaki BOTH exist in the extranei universe. devastating. but also of course you think howl is cute you fucking fruit.

c) LOSING MY FUCKING MIND ABOUT THIS (IN A BAD WAY)

"Guys!”Spark shouted. “Happy 3 month anniversary! We've been adventurers for that long!”

the only explanation i can think of was that jack posted this on the three-month anniversary of me making the rpg gallery / uploading the project, but it does not make the crime of implying it’s ONLY BEEN THREE MONTHS forgiveable. though i guess if tozi dies in december and this is early march, this is just factual in the og timeline and transferrable to 2.0. this doesn’t make me feel any better though.

d) THEN THEY GO AROUND THE CIRCLE AND SAY HOW LONG THEY’VE ALL BEEN WITH THE GROUP AND LUPUS SAYS “THREE WEEKS” EVEN THOUGH THAT’S STRAIGHT UP TEXTUALLY WRONG”

e) screaming at this

Charlie looked down and saw....SPARK! Oh, and that other girl.

i think it is so dyke of jack to make a character for the explicit purpose of being heterosexually anime obsessed with spark, who rejects him altogether in order to hang out with her best friend and make fun of him. not the same kind of gay i was but certainly one type of gay

f) furthermore THIS is the kind of gay that i was

Quartz flicked Charlie's hand, “Hands off, unless you have her permission.” She had always considered Charlie somewhat of an airhead.

THE SPARK ADMIRERS ARE FIGHTING RED ALERT THE SPARK ADMIRERS ARE FIGHTING. i love this song. 11 year old katia believes in consent no matter how anime things get. quartz will do this like three more times as the roleplay goes on. obsessed with the quartz charlie dynamic it’s giving foo fighters and anasui from hit show jojos bizarre adventure stone ocean

[trsrina]

SIGNAL Enhypen Jungwon teaser

inspired by twice’s signal

synopsis - you’ve been best friends with jungwon since forever but you’ve also been in love with him since forever as the guy couldn’t take a hint and was being as dense as a brick. how will you melt the stone-cold heart of the aloof boy who seems to only have his attention on his studies?

written in second person pov, childhood friends to lovers, childhood friends au, gender neutral reader, crush au, high school au, fluff, angst warning!! jungwon is kinda a red flag ngl. mentions of food. english is not my first language so i may have made some grammatical mistakes.

“pst…pst…pst…” “what?” “do you have a bandaid?” “no, what the heck.” “cause i scraped my knee falling for you,”

bonk

“ow!” “y/n l/n! last warning before detention!” “sorry miss!”

fire emitted from your eyes as you glared at your beloved lab partner and best friend, jungwon. him wearing a nonchalant expression on his face, no guilt at all for his previous actions.

yang jungwon. who is he exactly?

you could go on and on for eternity talking about the specific boy that might seem like no one special to others but has a special place in your heart.

yang jungwon is a generous person. someone who would spend all his allowance on cat food to feed the stray cats near his home, even when he’s allergic to them.

yang jungwon is a caring person. someone who likes to express his care towards others through actions rather than words. someone who’d do acts of service for his loved ones. someone who’d pay extra attention to people he cared for.

yang jungwon is an intelligent person. someone who’s always first in his grade, surpassing all his peers in academic ability, certain to have a good future.

yang jungwon is an oblivious person. someone who wouldn’t understand anything unless given straightforward instructions and expressions. someone who wouldn’t get hints dropped by the numerous people in his grade who liked him, no surprise that he stayed single till now even with his gorgeous sculpted face.

yang jungwon is a cruel person. someone who doesn’t realise he hurt someone with his blunt personality unless confronted. someone deemed as ‘hard to get along with’ for his aloof nature, most people losing their patience in trying to get to know such a distant person.

yang jungwon is a distant person. someone who feels like as if is millions of miles away even if you’re face to face with him. someone with an ego too big to listen to others, everything goes into one ear and out the other. someone hard to communicate to.

yang jungwon is a person you love. someone you’ve been pining on for years and managed to steal your heart despite his unapproachable facade. someone who you tried so hard to pull closer, only for him to take 3 step backwards every time you pull him 1 step closer. someone you thought you understood the most.

and most importantly, yang jungwon is a person. the one thing you’re thankful for in this messed up world. despite everything, you still love him, even if he totally ignores your romantic advances through out the years. y/n l/n, you, is anything but a quitter. you will attempt to steal his heart until the day he finally finds someone that makes him content. even if it means humiliation and suffering, spitting out the cheesiest pick-up lines for this boy.

“god, y/n l/n, are you out of your mind? this boy has been treating you as only a friend for all these years and you’re still chasing him? meanwhile you’re focusing on your good-for-nothing crush, did you never notice the people who have a crush on you? goddess jang wonyoung has a crush on you, stupid! drop that cat boy and go live with the girl of your dreams!”

“look hanni, the one in my dreams is jungwon. i only have eyes for yang jungwon and yang jungwon only. it’s just, you don’t know him the way i do, you know. it’s different for him, he’s so caring and just so ugh,”

“you call bonking your head with his book every time you say your weird google pick up lines to him and blantantly ignoring you all the time caring? how stupid are you?”

“jungwon isn’t that bad.”

hi hey hello haven’t written in a while i feel like this teaser has nothing to do with the actual fic but enjoy 🤓

[marisoft-paint-adventures]

Pgs. 61-69

the existence of Colonel Sassacre is 1 of the more bizarre parts of early Homestuck. I guess 1 day Hussie really wanted to do a riff on Mark Twain of all people, except he’s some prankster god with a wizard hat.

yeah I don’t get Hussie’s thought processes a lot of times.

the text itself is kinda amusing, old English fuckery about japing people with “The Creepy-Crawlies” because you just really hate your aunt or some “gent” who-

wait what does that say?

listless- OH! that’s a slur! hi everybody!

Did You Know? Homestuck Has Slurs.

the uh... “discourse”???? around slurs in Homestuck sure is something because people like to fight tooth and nail for their existence in the comic, but in a way that is simply... odd.

most of these shitfests about derogatory language in media involve people who publicly advertise how fucking Cool they are because they Like Things That Are Offensive complaining about how the Liberal SJW Snowflake Democrat Tumblrite Triggered Buzzword Buzzwords are mad at words so they will Cancel Culture the media and they should something something Grow A Spine Man Up Go To The Real World something something.

but in Homestuck’s case you’ll have fans who really want to defend the slur usage as some sort of fight to preserve the work. the discussion of how Homestuck is preserved is a good one, but like

the slurs????

what are you losing with the slurs????????

sure, the language, much like anything else in the comic, is a part of this period piece the work exists as, a very much at the time sort of thing. it’s the late 2000s, Hussie hangs out in forums with edgelords, they’re also Some White Guy who grew up in The Slurs Part of America.

Homestuck Made This World actually goes into this pretty well:

Michael: Old internet history, there's a lot of bad and offensive stuff in there, and some of that comes through into the comic.

CMRN: It was mainstream humor, that's what's kinda weird about it, and that's something that's easy to forget now, right? Y'know there was a popular film in the early 2000s where Johnny Knoxville cons his way into the Special Olympics, and every prank TV show from Jackass to The Jamie Kennedy Experiment, everyone remembers that, people get into X, to uh-  Gosh, what was the Ashton Kutcher one?

Michael: Uh, Punk'd.

CMRN: Uh, yeah, trucker hat, you're right. And that, right? So there was this kind of like general, just like, extremely virulent anti-disability, you know anti-disabled people, element to humor, which I don't really know that was such a prominent thing. Maybe it was at the point where, you know for example, certain forms of race based humor just didn't play anymore, so mainstream comedy had to find a place where it was acceptable to, you know, hate certain people essentially? I don't quite know one or another, but I actually associate Hussie quite often, of course the R-word was used constantly and regularly by basically everyone, I mean it was a huge kind of corner stone of both internet and real world meatspace culture. But for whatever reason, I have this, in mind, Hussie relationship to particularly that form of humor.

Michael: We are going to see what happens when the internet specifically drifts away from this, or not even drifts away, that's putting it too softly. Internet culture, sort of fan culture, is going to pivot away from that type of humor pretty hard. And we can so those tensions bubble up into the comic when we get to those points. Cause of course, you mention, you know, the R-word, it's used, not liberally, but regularly I think throughout kind of the opening acts of Homestuck. And it's one of those things that really jumps out to me looking back, because it did not jump out at me in 2008-2009, right?

CMRN: Yeah.

Michael: Like, I am not free from this, I was never like, y'know, above all of this. I too am a product of culture, and it is bizarre to kind of go back and notice things like that and be like "Oh yeah, we were just like, dropping that, and that was kind of messed up!"

CMRN: Yeah, I think one thing that is important is to even have like a short historical kind of memory about this kind of thing, because yeah, like I was just saying. The R-word and making fun of people with intellectual disabilities, just broadly, was a corner stone of comedy, I would say that maybe one third of jokes, period, from stand up to- I mean, this is obviously a little bit of hyperbole, it's not straight up a third, but if you look at sketch comedy from the time, from its mainstream to whatever obscure, you're gonna find a huge amount of that, that's a massive part of it. And it was just part of our comedy culture, I mean, that's a historical reality, and it's a historical reality that we live through. And I guess the beneficial thing, or the good thing, obviously there is no good thing about doing that, but the good thing of living in the moment that we do now, is that we seem to have, as a culture, completely gotten rid of that, or at least in parts of culture who were not interested in just trolling other people and purposefully offending other people. I think for the most part everyone, or people were in involved in cultural production have realized "Yeah that was- that was pretty bad. Like, why are we engaging in that." And that's heartening. But yeah, it was just a part of it. And I agree, while reading this kind of section that we read for episode one, it really sticks out when it shows up. But also, if you're reading Homestuck and you're like "Ah, that's kind of a bummer that that's showing up." Or "That's awful that that's showing up." The way it's just peppered in and used normally in conversation is the way it was used in 2008-2009 by many many people, obviously not everyone, obviously some people realized how bad that was, but I would say the majority of conversation. Certainly the people I went to high school with, and even when I was in college was when this was kind of moving out, and certainly when I got to college is when I was like "Oh, this, you shouldn't say this. This is bad."

but many arguments about how humor and language was back in that context is often used to absolve Hussie from any sort of blame. they didn’t mean to do it, it just seemed fun! what’s a little slur usage between online besties? however, you see, not everyone who lived in the 2000s was a massive bigot and/or liked dropping slurs. I can tell you that because I was there and I was not racist, actually. at the same time as 4chan and Something Awful users were spewing whatever you could find in the depths of the Wikipedia page for every racial slur in existence, you’d have high school to college campaigns, TV PSAs, informative pamphlets, and whatnot yelling in your face that you should probably not say slurs because slurs are kind of bad. it was “acceptable” in some areas to throw around an r-word, but there was certainly a pushback.

it’s not even like Hussie just suddenly stopped using these words afterwards, because they gladly repeat the r-word a million different times in a paragraph of commentary for Act 2 in its Topatoco book print, which was published in 2012.

I'd paste the entire thing word for word but:

I am not really comfortable considering how bad this gets.

it’d be easier to have the original panel itself for context.

so here’s a screencap instead:

bare in mind this was kept for the reprint by Viz Media in Book 1.

in other words, no, Hussie was not an innocent victim of the Big Internet Hivemind that decided that people should say slurs as a form of greeting, they were a human being who made a conscious choice to add these words to their work.

they don’t add anything, they’re only in the comic because that’s how Hussie spoke at the time and for some reason they couldn’t keep them out of their mouth.

and I’m serious on that last bit because some are thrown around from Rose and in the narration of Jade’s perspective and... no... they wouldn’t say that.

the goth girl who tries her hardest to look highbrow and the ray of sunshine herself would never utter such foul language that’s literally just Hussie speaking through them.

Dave would totally though he’s just that kind of guy.

on the other side of the coin I’ve seen fans recommend new readers to download the Homestuck Slur Replacement Project mod to make the experience more comfortable, that’s good.

but also a lot of them act like it’s just the slurs that make the comic a hard sell in terms of controversy, and

buddy,

there’s still a lot of fucking weird shit. the entire work is not suddenly completely accessible because you get rid of a bunch of r-words and an f-word. we’ve all seen the fucking content warnings people make for new readers, this comic is fucked.

what is a new reader gonna think when they go through the comic thinking nothing worse than some slurs will pop up and then this guy makes a grand fucking entrance.

yes I am singling Kankri out, fuck him.

but then, flipping back to the side I was originally talking about, I’ve seen those who decide that mods such as the Slur Replacement Project are cardinal fucking sins against Homestuck itself. and

why???

what does it matter that someone’s personal copy of Homestuck is slightly edited???

again, really interesting stuff could be discussed about how Homestuck was being consumed at the time and how it should be consumed now, but this is just petty.

basically in summary uhhh this video:

[realcube]

❥ HOW HE CONFESSES

characters ❥ mikey, draken & baji 

tw ❥ the beach, bad driving, mentions of murder and cursing 

cr ❥ requested by anon

a/n ❥ i’ve not read the manga yet :’(

MIKEY 

♥ his love language is shoplifting for you <33

♥ like okay.. in writing it kinda sounds pathetic compared to all the other shit he does but like.. he goes through the effort of personally picking up your favourite snack from the grocery store —instead of getting his toman underling to do it for him — and hiding them under his shirt 

♥ and he thinks about you the whole time he is sprinting away from security 

♥ if that isn’t true love idk what is 

♥ today wasn’t any ol’ day tho, snacks and sweets were going to cut it 

♥ instead, he went for the big shiny rock on a ring he keeps seeing the window of the rock shop on the high street

♥ it was pretty, for a rock, but not pretty enough for anyone in their right mind to think it’s worth £10,000/$14,000/ ¥1,500,000!!!

♥ however, after hearing that price from a salesperson, he knew that stupid rock ring was exactly how he’d win your heart <3 

♥ it was a challenge and it had him working overtime, but after pulling some strings, doing a couple favours, and maybe even inadvertently killing some people (you never know 🤷‍♂️), he managed to get his hands on the pristine stone, which he had come to learn was called a diamond, which was why it was so expensive 

♥ the guy who did him the favour of stealing it initially asked if mikey was planning on proposing and mikey said yes —since asking you out on a date is technically a proposal — and the dude didn’t even question it, he just said good luck

♥ and that sort of energy was exactly what mikey needed right now as he stood behind a wall near your lunch table as he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do 

♥ all your friends had left yet you were still sitting there alone since mikey texted you and asked for you to wait behind, and the fact you actually did filled him with hope from the get-go

♥ “(y/n)! there you are!” mikey greeted as if he didn’t know exactly where you were this whole time. why was his heart thumping so harshly in his chest? and why did he suddenly feel overwhelmingly embarrassed? i mean, he’s not done anything worth being awkward about.. yet.

♥ he didn’t understand. he never usually gets this way around people. but then again, he shouldn’t be surprised since he knew you were an exception from the beginning

♥ “hi, mikey.” you hummed, head propped gently on your arm while you slipped your phone away, “why did you want to see me? is something wrong?”

♥ the slight concern he detected in your voice was enough for him to immediately blurt out, “oh, no! nothing like that! everything is great; i am great and i, erm, hope you are too.” he announced, somewhat glad that your only reaction was a blank stare as it meant he doesn’t feel inclined to explain himself 

♥ “so, uh, i was just wonder if you..” he started, clenching his jaw as he mentally reassured himself. the fact that he felt embarrassed about feeling embarrassed made things infinitely harder from him. he took a deep breath, and spilled

♥ “do you want to go out on a date with me sometime?” he basically screamed, squeezing his eyes shut tight and emptying his left pocket onto the table in front of you so that his special gift would accompany his proposal 

♥ he closed his eyes as if that was going to protect him from rejection, but before he was able to silently rebuke himself, he heard faint sobbing from where he dropped his present 

♥ upon opening his eyes, the shock from the sight before him was enough to give him whiplash

♥ in an unfortunate turn of events, he must’ve emptied the wrong pocket because sitting on the table in front of you was not a diamond ring, but rather a sherbet dip he bought to share with you if you said ‘yes’ to his proposal 

♥ and his suspicions were correct, you were the one crying 

♥ ....

♥ waIT WHY ARE YOU CRYING mikey panicked, frantically looking around for someone who might’ve hurt you, or perhaps someone he’d have to send to A&E

♥ “are you okay?”

♥ “yeah.” you whispered, your light chuckle enough to prevent mikey from worrying any more, “i’m just..” you stuttered, smiling fondly at the blonde, “i’m just really happy. i thought you’d never ask.” 

♥ it was impossible for mikey to conceal the sigh of relief he breathed as he slumped down next to you on the bench, “thank god. i thought someone had threatened you or something.”

♥ “threatened me? why would they do that?” you innocently cocked your head to the side, rubbing your eyes as you did so. 

♥ oh, yeah. mikey hadn’t been fully transparent with you about his.. current employment. as far as you knew, he was a full-time student at ‘toman academy’ and he had a part-time job babysitting (which was hardly a lie, in his opinion)

♥ so you didn’t really know about how he was the leader of the tokyo manji gang or any of that

♥ originally he thought it was fine to keep it a secret, but now that you were officially his partner it would be immoral to not let you know about his affiliation with the gang 

♥ so he decided to tell you over a sherbert <33

♥ “so, are we official?” he cooed, ripping the lollypops out of the bag and popping one in his mouth while offering you the other by tapping it against your lips lightly 

♥ “yep.” you smiled, taking the lolly into your mouth with a smile, glad that he didn’t bring up your little waterworks a few second ago 

♥ but in all honesty, he was preoccupied wondering what the most appropriate way to phrase ‘i am the leader of a gang of delinquents’ would be 

♥ poor little mikey brain working on overdrive 

♥ he decided to pull out the ring, since he still had to give that to you, so while you were entranced by the fat gem glistening under the light in mikey’s possession, he began, “so, babe, do you think being a gang leader is hot?”

DRAKEN

♥ he honestly didn’t have a clue how to ask you out

♥ in fact, he didn’t even know that he had a crush on you until mikey pointed out all of his weird behaviours around you 

♥ so his first instinct was to go to mikey for advice when thinking of ways to ask you out 

♥ but the only idea that mf was to get ‘will you go out with me, (y/n)?’ tattooed onto his ‘thick skull’ and ofc draken wasn’t about to do that

♥ although he did consider it for like.. a minute

♥ (he was like.. hmmmm... well, the tattoo guy does owe me a favour so... maybe i could get it for free?)

♥ (or permanent marker might work???)

♥ anyway, he eventually decided to ask you out the good ol’ fashion way!! by just telling you how he feels

♥ however, once he explained this plan to mikey, he was scoffed and said ‘good luck with that’ in the most condescending tone of voice

♥ draken’s initial instinct was to simply beat up mikey and go ask you out anyway, but this conflict ran deeper than just him and mikey bickering about trivial issues- his whole relationship was on the line! 

♥ so after hearing the leader out, he finally decided on the most appropriate way to confess — just like how all the dudes in the animes mikey and him and watched did it 

♥ by giving you flowers and chocolates <3

♥ and mikey even offered to come into the store with draken and help him choose the goods since mikey was a self-proclaimed ‘love-expert’

♥ draken obviously denied his offer but he came along anyway 

♥ “ooh, ken-chin! look at these ones, they’re on sale.” mikey gasped, happily grabbing a pack of heart-shaped chocolates off the shelf, ripping them open and stuffing his face, “and they are delicious too!”

♥ paying no attention to the fact that mikey had essentially already committed a crime since there was no way he intended to pay for those chocolates, draken mused while eyeing up the rest of the sweets, the bouquet of flowers he had already chosen tucked under his arm, “valentine’s day was a week ago, that’s probably why they are on sale.” 

♥ “draken?” 

♥ a familiar voice from the end of the aisle caused draken to avert his gaze from the chocolates displayed in front of him and instead search for the source of the voice, which happened to be you standing innocently with your basket in-hand

♥ “ah, (y/n),” draken tensed, immediately shoving the bouquet of flowers behind his back at hopefully out of your sight as he put on a forced smile to distract from them too, “what a nice surprise seeing you here.”

♥ “hm?” mikey chimed in, unable to vocalise his curiosity through the chocolates stuffed in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying, “is that the (y/n) you were talking about? the one you were going to conf--” 

♥ “that’s enough outta you.” draken hissed through a fake smile, shoving mikey into the next aisle, which happened to be the snack aisle so, entertained, he decided to stay put

♥ “oh, is that your friend mikey?” you inquired, having only ever heard about mikey through rumours up until now. though none of them exactly matched the image you saw just there

♥ “yep, he’s pain sometimes, but he’s still cool.” draken muttered, awkwardly rolling on the balls of his feet as he waited for a deity to save him from this interaction —  not that he didn’t want to talk to you, it’s just that every second you spend with him, the less likely it becomes that his confession will go as planned

♥ and you only confirmed that with your follow-up question

♥ “i see you’ve got flowers, and you’re looking for chocolates. who’s the special someone?” you teased, poking draken’s cheek playfully (which is one of the many things he only finds comfort in when you do it)

♥ “oh, no one.” he hummed, his coy smile doing a number on your heart rate

♥ “how about you? who is that card for?” he inquired casually, gesturing to the classic pink ‘i have something to tell you... <3′ confession card that was only in-stock during valentine’s day season, that was sitting atop the groceries in your basket

♥ a cocky smirk tugged at his lips — as if to say ‘i won’ — while he watched you become increasingly flustered right in front of him. it was adorable

♥ but he thought it would stop there; stop with him winning the teasing battle, you getting all sheepish then leaving but that apparently wasn’t your plan

♥ instead, you lowered your head and outstretched your arms to give him the card (which was still in the wrapping plastic) 

♥ “red-handed. i bought these with you in mind, draken.” you said, voice barely above a whisper, “but if you don’t accept then that’s fine too, have a nic--”

♥ “who said i don’t accept?” draken grumbled, almost as if he was annoyed, as he took your card and examined the card thoroughly for a couple seconds

♥ then suddenly, he froze. the shock of the realisation leaving him stunned to the point where the only thing he could do was shift his eyes from the card on to you and utter in a terrified tone, “this isn’t, uh, this isn’t a confession, is it?”

♥ you shrugged, “i guess, it is.” 

♥ “damn it.” draken cursed, glaring at the snack aisle and hence mikey, for giving him this stupid idea

♥ “is there a problem?” 

♥ “no.” draken said through gritted teeth before pulling out the bouquet his had hidden behind his back, “but i was meant to confess first.”

♥ your jaw dropped, leaving draken concerned for a second until you instantly pulled him in for a tight hug; another thing he admired about you was that you gave hugs like you were in the mafia, strong enough to cut off his airflow

♥ “double confession!” you squealed, absolutely delighted that draken not only wanted to confess to you, but he had the same idea to come to the shop and buy stuff beforehand

♥ “i guess so.” draken chuckled, handing you the bouquet of flower as soon as you pulled away, “these are for you.” 

♥ you gasped, smiling at how he managed to remember your favourite kind of flower after a single off-handed comment you made ages ago, “thank you!” you hugged them to your chest, “have you already paid for them?”

♥ “no.” draken replied simply. “but they are still yours.”

♥ sometimes it slipped your mind that draken was part of a literal gang since.. he just seemed so normal and humble 

♥ but on some other occasions, it was painfully difficult to consider draken anything close to ‘normal’

♥ and one of those moments was when he was trying to convince security he was pregnant with a flower-baby, and when that evidently didn’t work, he just made a run for it with mikey, whose pants pockets were filled with sweets that trailed behind him where ever he ran

BAJI

♥ he didn’t even ponder about how he was supposed to confess to you for over a second

♥ the idea just came to him instantly and he went with it

♥ the only question he asked was ‘how can i show them how badass i am without bragging?’ and he immediately came up with an answer and rolled with it, no questions asked 

♥ and there was no planning or anything done beforehand either, he literally just texted you ‘where are you?’ at like 7PM and when you replied ‘the park’, he hopped on his bike and sped over 

♥ like he didn’t even ask which park.. he just guessed.. but he guessed correctly 

♥ your heart almost stopped as you watched a chunky motorcycle come speeding towards you at such a rate that all you could do was brace for impact and kiss goodbye to your relatively peaceful live

♥  however, at the very last second it swerved around you and came to a halt, allowing the rider to extend his free hand to you, “hop on.”

♥ the voice was all to familiar and you weren’t surprised at all to see baji with his signature ‘i could kill you’ grin plastered on his face 

♥ as your heart rate slowly began to return to normal, you cried, “what do you mean ‘hop on’? you almost ran me over!”

♥ he unclipped his helmet and tossed it to you, “safety first.”

♥ “did you even hear what i just said?” you grumbled, putting on the helmet anyway 

♥ “i think you said something about how excited you are to finally go out with me.” he mused, shuffling forwards slightly to give you more space to sit on behind him, like a true gentleman /s

♥ “no.” you replied simply. 

♥ though you initially had no intention of going anywhere with him, you still found yourself reaching your leg over his bike to take a seat behind him, “where are we going?”

♥ baji shrugged, chuckling slightly as he felt you gently wrap your arms around his hips, “don’t know, but hold on tight.” he warned, revving his engine and taking off without another word

♥ perhaps you were the fool for getting on a motorcycle with baji and letting him take you to an undisclosed location, but you trusted him enough to know that he wouldn’t try to drive you off a cliff or put you in danger.. or at least, that is what you hoped

♥ however, if it wasn’t a rival gang that kills you, baji’s driving definitely would

♥ he drives like a madman and left you with no other choice but to cling onto him for dear life, since if you didn’t bury yourself into his side, you’d probably fly off with all sharp turns he does around the other cars/bikes

♥ it was like being taped to the top of a vehicle in mario cart

♥ eyes squeezed shut, you yelled over the harsh blaring of the wind, “slow the fuck down! where are you even taking me?” 

♥ baji was having fun, but he was getting the feeling you weren’t..

♥ usually he doesn’t care about what other think but this was the first time he was taking you out, he didn’t want you to think of him as a maniac driver, or else you might not want to come with him ever again

♥ “if you open your eyes, you’ll see.” he uttered, slowing down slightly so the noises weren’t as harsh 

♥ taking his word for it, you hesitantly pried open one of your eyes and turned your neck so your face was no longer pressed against his shoulder

♥ and honestly, you were glad you did. passed the edge of the road, you had the perfect view of the beach below, the sea gently glistening under the orange sunset 

♥ now that your nose was free from only breathing in baji’s sickeningly strong, wild spice body spray, you finally able to enjoy fresh ocean air 

♥ “the beach.” you mused, smiling down at the completely deserted sandy shore, which looked so beautifully peaceful in contrast to how busy it was when you usually come 

♥ “no shit.” baji chuckled, his eyes remaining glued to road, despite how much he wanted to see your reaction

♥ you let out a defeated sighed, leaning against his back, “but it’s closed.”

♥ baji nodded, “yep, that means we’ve got the whole place to ourselves!”

♥ before you could question what baji meant by that, he steered off the edge of the road and down the steep hillside which led to the beach, though it definitely was not meant to be drove on as there were several warning sign at the side of the road, warning drivers about the hill

♥ “baji, what the fuck?!” you screamed over baji’s amused laughter, similar to the way you’d laugh if you were playing GTA, rather than playing with actual human lives

♥ “isn’t this fun?” he yelled back, enjoying how the wind felt against his skin as he maneuvered his bike down the steep hill 

♥ honestly, you weren’t sure whether you enjoyed it or not, but as soon as the bike came to a smooth landing upon the soft sand of the beach, you found yourself silently wanting to do that again

♥ “well, how was that?” baji asked, immediately hopping off the bike on his own only so he could offer you a hand

♥ accepting his hand, you stepped off the cycle only to notice that your legs were shaking, yet you oddly liked it, “that was.. okay.” you murmured, not wanting to feed his ego but also unable to lie to him.

♥ “great.” he uttered, leaning forward to carefully unclip your helmet for you and sling it over the handle of his bike

♥ “so,” he started, looking around the beach for any stray cops or surveyors, “what do you wanna do?” 

♥ he felt a light tug on his jacket sleeve, causing him to look down and meet your pleading gaze, “do you think we could go out again? some other time, maybe?”

♥ all baji did was laugh, resulting in you become sheepish for a moment, until he wrapped his arms around you picked you up for a hug, “obviously!”

♥ you smiled, your cheeks heating up slightly, “nice!”

♥ “anyway,” he started, placing you back down and dashing off towards the sea, “loser owes me lunch!”

♥ ignoring how he gets lunch either way, you immediately sprinted off behind him, watching as he dramatically fell over a large shell and face-planted into the the sand

♥ being the kind friend you are, you ignored him and continued running towards the water, only for him to grab your ankle and trip you up too

♥ “ha!” that is how he shows affection <3

[shotorozu]

putting eyeliner on them

— *♡∞:｡.｡ 2k followers special —

character(s) : multiple characters (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used— well,, reader sure does love makeup! strong quirk but the details aren’t specific

headcanon type : fluff, and the mildest of spice

note(s) : again, another followers special! i had this in my brain since january, but i wanted to wait for this exact moment to write it out! i hope it’s worth it. again, thank you all for 2k! 🤍 also i have 2-3 more things to come out later and there’s no proof-read whejdjwdk

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

midoriya izuku

↛ he loves the idea, really. you’d assume that midoriya would know how to put on eyeliner, because he’s quite the writer— but no. those hands are wobbly as heck, and his hands move with speed. so as much as he’d want to try eyeliner, he couldn’t. so, when you propose the idea of applying eyeliner on him, while sitting on his lap, he’s quite estatic— but izuku can’t help but blush when he realizes how close you guys are. he can only hold in his breath in anticipation, but he’s also quite worried about messing it up. when you show him the result, izuku’s happy! pressing a quick kiss on your lips, as he admires his eyes in the mirror but he’s probably going to smudge it in a hour

bakugou katsuki

↛ he’d say no at first, because he already knows how to put on eyeliner. why would he need your help? but when you offer to sit on his lap while you do his eyeliner, he’s scoffing— pulling you on his lap, and he’s already asking if you’re done yet but not even a few minutes has passed. and no! it’s not because he gets to be closer with you, and no, it’s not because he could intensely stare at you with that look, hands pressed against your back. he just wants to get it over with— totally. but he sure does love the outcome. we’ve only seen him wearing eyeliner under his mask, but he won’t be afraid of wearing it alone (because his talented s/o did it!) he’s smirking, complimenting you on how well you did, hands still on your thigh— basically asking you to stay. he’d fight anyone that would try to touch the eyeliner, he’ll have it as long as he possibly could.

todoroki shouto

↛ probably the person that knows the least about wearing eyeliner. compared to the others, he’s seen you do your eyeliner— and he’s really fascinated by it, so he just goes ahead and asks you! but when you mentioned sitting on his lap for better accuracy, it was like hitting two birds with one stone. not only could he get eyeliner, but he could also get closer to you so !! he didn’t seem that affected by the experience on the outside anyway, but he loved how his eyes looked with eyeliner— and the fact that you’re just so close to him didn’t really help the blood rushing to his cheeks. either way! he’s glad you were willing to put on eyeliner for him, and he could only repay you back with his affection 🤍 he’d probably learn how to put on eyeliner, so he could return the favor in the future. but the catch is that you still have to sit on his lap. he loves it, okay?

kirishima eijirou

↛ another person that has worn eyeliner in the official art! we love that. anyways, eijirou has probably worn eyeliner once or twice before— but that was pretty much it for him. he’ll watch you do your makeup most of the time, but he’ll especially pay attention to the eyeliner part. he’d ask, sure! but he’s afraid of wasting product, so he holds back from asking you :,) when you tell him you want to do his eyeliner, he’s excited! and he starts immediately preparing himself for the eyeliner. with every single stroke of your hand, he’ll excitingly ask if you’re done— showing off his signature smile, as he tries to keep still. when you finally show him, he’ll be so happy :)) but now you have to do excentric eyeliner styles on him, just do it please, he just loves how it looks! and eijirou’s just so lucky to have a talented s/o. whenever someone would ask who did his eyeliner, he’ll smile, and say your name ever so proudly.

kaminari denki

↛ kirishima 🤝 kaminari ‘ceos of wearing eyeliner in the official art’ kaminari has probably worn eyeliner a few times here and there, but that was really because mina helped him put it on. he’ll sit down beside you and watch you put on eyeliner, commenting out loud about “how the hell did you do that so easily??” it’s sorcery to him. because his hands are also quite wobbly, and his eyeliner never comes out as sisters— but rather distant cousins 💀 anyways, when you mention wanting to try colorful eyeliner on him, he was so excited— and when you sat on his lap, he’ll basically be like :0 my s/o is sitting on my lap omg afterwards, he’ll be really blushy— but he’s happy for sure. he’s pressing kisses all over your face as thanks, and he’s quick to take pictures his eyeliner— just for memory sake. but denki’s probably going to smudge the eyeliner in 30 minutes rip

shinsou hitoshi

↛ it,, never really crossed his mind. no offense to you, really. but he has some intense dark circles under those pretty eyes, and because of that— he always assumed it wouldn’t look the best on him :,) luckily, being with you has made him believe that it wouldn’t look so bad (and that he’d need to stop being so down on himself) hitoshi is never really the one to oppose to the idea of you applying eyeliner on him, it’s not like it does any harm to either of you! but when you offer to sit on your lap— he’s quite accepting, immediately pulling you closer and closer, hands placed on the small of your back, and on your waist. turns out, hitoshi looks superb with eyeliner! it just accentuates those violet irises of his. afterwards, he’ll nibble on your soft skin- and omg the way he looks at you is enough to hypnotize you. for payment, he’ll take as many pictures as he could, (for emergency purposes. if you were sad, he could literally send you one of those selfies, and you’d cheer up.)

amajiki tamaki

↛ it’s sad because he thinks he’d look terrible. it wasn’t like shinsou’s way of thinking— where he was like ‘eh, i’d look bad. but i’m not very opposed to it.’ no, it was like ‘omg i’d look so bad, and i’d waste your ink/product and onwhdnwks’ so, you also have to reassure that it’ll be fine, and that he’s not wasting your product. when you straddle him, his cheeks will go red. like,, really red, to the point that you’re worried if he’d collapse or pass out. anyways, after 5 minutes (which felt like 5 hours to tamaki) he looks in the mirror— and he feels,, happy. he loves it because you did it, and tamaki feels a sense of relief, because it turned out just fine. he’s thanking you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck— rocking you back and forth softly. he’d be really bashful if mirio or nejire complimented him and his eyeliner. the attention is something he’s still not very used to. he’d be really sad, if he smudged the eyeliner by accident, you might have to comfort him :,)

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei. i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby.

do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or use my works for audio readings without my permission :))

[bump1nthen1ght]

Thicker than Water (Demon x Reader) Chapter 1

Pairing: Female Reader x Gender Fluid! Demon

Genre: High Fantasy

Warnings: Arm Injuries, Several mentions of blood

Word Count: 1870 Words

Summary: A summoning gone awry ends up in your favor

Chapter 2

A/N: Alright, I know I literally just posted a demon story but this post showed up on my dash and my god if I have never been more inspired to write a fic. I legit wrote this in 2 hours in a frenzy. Also I plan this story to be multi-chap, but still rather short, so maybe 3 parts in total

Before that night, you had never known what nearly-passing out felt like.

Your mother had done it, once or twice, usually after a particularly stressful day at the shop. If you didn’t check on her between your studies she may forget to eat entirely, your father as well. But you had been lucky; Someone had always been there to catch her, to cradle her head and spoon-feed her strength back.

On the forest floor, surrounded by the smell of your own blood, you have no such luxury.

The black spots flickering in your vision blend into the desne canopy above you and your tears only muddle your sight. The iron and copper of the summoning circle drawn around you drown out the scent of fresh pine and grass, while your ears can only focus on your own heartbeat and the bickering of the four boys.

Oh, that’s right, they’re still here.

It seems you had lost more fluid than you realized, probably because of your incessant crying. You had tried to stop the flow, but your brain was losing coherent function with every second. The boys conversation sounds far away and hollow, bouncing off your eardrums and confusing your sense of direction

“You idiot, I told you not to go for the arm!”

“We needed a lot of blood!”

“But she needs to read the ritual dumbass! She can’t if she dies!”

Ah yes, the ritual, it all is flooding back to you now.

Having received a private education from your father at your family’s apothecary, you were already prone to isolation as a child. It didn’t help having no siblings, nor a lacking natural talent for friend-making. Although you had lived in the city all your life, the young people your age knew very little about you, and you them.

You knew they had rumors about you, The daughter the apothecary hides away; That your gaze can turn people to stone, that you can curse and poison people with a couple words and the right ingredients.

The truth was you weren’t so glamorous. You knew your way around a medicine cabinet, sure, but nothing about poisons or magic spells. You didn’t have any special abilities to compensate or explain your reluctance for socialization. Just some overprotective parents and a shy disposition.

So when the handsome postmasters-son began to pay you special visits, you let your guard down. You let him walk you to and from the market, memorizing your weekend route. You let him in for a bit of tea late at night, especially when it seemed so cold, and told him where the spare key was kept. And yes, you even told him about your favorite secluded spot in the forest, where the sounds of civilization were far away, where you could be alone.

And here, in these last moments of your life, you can’t help but feel so naive.

“Hey, hey!”

A boot taps your cheek, shaking you out of your revelry. Your glassy eyes look over to your right.

It’s one of the local merchant’s boys, you think his name is Nicholas? It doesn’t really matter. All you knew about him was that he was a bit rough around the edges; always nicking things from pockets, looking up ladies skirts, and skipping his lessons. That’s what your dad complained about anyway.

A page is shoveled in front of you, dangling over your face. Your eyes take a while, but focus on the words. Nicholas’ boot heel digs into your neck.

“Read it out loud, or we’ll kill you.”

Clearly I’m going to die anyway dumbass, why should I help you?

You might’ve retorted, if you were in such a physical condition to do so. But instead, you do as you're told, and start speaking.

To your left, the postmaster’s son, Richard, sucks in a breath with anticipation. Any false composure he had while luring you here is gone, his feet tapping with excitement as he holds your left arm and lef bound spread eagle.

Holding your right leg is Markus, another merchant boy. He picks at his teeth.

“What are you guys going to wish for?” He whispers. It goes in your ear and out the other, too focused on forming coherent sentences.

“A full-harem of babes, obviously.” Simpers Hunter, the son of a landlord. He isn’t ugly, only a bit plain, and has enough money to boot. Compared to the other bachelors in town however, he has had little luck in procuring a courtship.

“A million coins could get you that and more, idiot. That’s what I’m wishing for.” Whispers Richard.

“What are you going to wish for Nic?” Asks Markus

“Oh my gods, will you guys shut the fuck up?”

Nic snarls, unconsciously digging his heel back into your throat. You choke and stutter, but keep going. The runes around you, written in your own blood, begin to glow.

All of the boy’s eyes widen and they step back from you. Your limbs sink like dead weight as the words begin to flow out your mouth with no thought. The paper with the chant drops to the ground, out of your sight, but it's like your brain has been reprogrammed; You know the rest, know it in your bones.

The grass begins to simmer and burn under the summoning circle, smoke swirling into formation above you. When the final word whispers out of you, you feel your body go lax. You don’t even remember tensing up

I guess this is it. Sorry Mom, Sorry Dad.

You clench your eyes, just hoping the demon will be quick. That it will at least leave a recognizable corpse.

“Holy shit.” You hear muttered, unsure by whom.

Your eyes are closed, body teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but your senses are still intact. A hot wave of breath washes over your face and the ground below you trembles with heavy footsteps. The boys are quiet but you can hear their hearts pounding. They thrum with life, while yours slowly fades.

“Why have you summoned me, mortal?”

Even half-dead, your muscles tense in fear. The demon's voice is deep and resonates like a crowd talking all at once. It reeks of inhuman power and cracks like thunder.

A brief silence passes, before Nicholas finds his courage.

“We have come to ask for a wish.”

Later, when recounting the story, you will mention that the demon looked over to Nicolas, unamused, despite never seeing it yourself. The demon huffs, the heat of it blowing over you once more.

“I don’t believe I asked you.” The demon mutters. The cacophony of voices blend together into one, bland and emotionless. Even in your state however, you are able to decipher a couple of louder tones which overpower the others. They seem...angry.

“But...you…”

“I asked….”

Your eyes snap open as a wet droplet lands on your cheek. Lingering above you, drool seeping from their unnaturally sharp teeth, is the creature. It’s face resembles that of a goat, but sharp fangs stick out from their lower lips. Their eyes are golden and shine in the night, piercing right into yours. Despite the part of your body screaming out in terror, another part feels oddly….comforted. It’s why you don't startle when they brush a hand against your cheek, their thumb wiping away your tears. Their palm is warm, not like a blistering flame, but like a thick quilt. Like hot chocolate on a rainy day.

“......What do you need of me, little one?”

Their hand, padded and calloused, slides down your arm, closing up the large gash on your inner bicep. In another movement, they do the same to the other. Power and vitality seems to sink back into your body, drip by drip.

Words escape you, but not Nicolas.

“Excuse me, demon, but we're the ones who summoned you.” The sarcastic tone of his does little to hide the quivers of his fear, especially when the demon's neck turns toward him at an unnatural speed. Still, he persists. “Not her. And we want-”

“Do you take me for a blind fool?” The voice bellows, sending all the boys to their knees. Markus clutches his ears while Hunter whimpers on the ground. Nicolas falls back to the ground, eyes widen.  The demon stands to their full height, several feet above all of you. “Do you think I was born without smell, without sense?” The step away from your body, swiping at the ground with their fingers, taking a small bit of your blood with it.

The demon sticks their thumb and forefinger in front of Nicolas’s face, causing him to yelp and fall onto his back. “Is this your blood which forged the connection? Was it your words that spoke me into existence? Was it your body which came to the brink, wrenched open the door and pulled us both through?”

Nicolas, trembling like a leaf, shakes his head no. The demon’s eyes jerk up to the others. “And was it any of these young men?”  

Richard furiously shakes his head, while Hunter stays collapsed on the ground. Markus pushes himself away, hands still clamped around his ears. The demon sneers, before turning and walking back to you.

The demon kneels before propping your upper body up with a gentle touch. A comforting claw rubs your lower back while another paw rubs the tension out of your shoulders.

“Now, mistress, what may you ask of me?”

Your muscles may no longer tire from blood loss, but your mind truly feels like it’s on the brink of breaking. The demon, with fearsome fangs and a soft look, looks to you for an answer.

“I-I…” You mutter as the demon continues to massage your back. They hum.

“Take your time, it is alright. Rituals are difficult, I can only imagine the toll your body feels.” The mass of voices have synchronized, fading from a hundred to a single, harmonious tune. It is cavernously deep, but pleasant. It reminds you of the portly older man who used to read stories aloud every holiday.

You feel your body unconsciously turn towards your captors. Nicholas stays stuck to the ground, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the darkness. The others have slowly moved to their knees, all terrified with shaky limbs, and look like they might make a run for it. Markus is slowly inching towards Nicholas’ shoulders, trying to lift him up to his senses.

For the first time in your life, a deep, boiling hatred burns your skin.

Cowards. You sneer, with all the malice stored in your reserves.

“I want-I want…” You stumble as the anger bubbles out of your belly. “I want them to hurt. To feel humiliated.” Nails bite into the palm of your hand, letting out blood as you clench knuckles. “I want everyone to know what they’ve done, who they are, every fault they’ve ever been guilty of. I want them alive, but I want them to burn.”

The demon smiles, pulling you in for a hug. You collapse into their embrace, keeping your eyes locked onto the boys, those rats. The demon hums a contented tune as they rub your back.

“As you wish, my master.”

[vesuvianmess]

Popsicles?

Art by @jilljoycearts Drexxel is @vesuvianmess Vell is @deathbyarcana

A short fic recounting how these two met, pulled (with some edits) directly from a currently running roleplay.

Quick Warning: Contains mentions of stalking and harassment

"You are very welcome, have a good rest of your day!" He waved the group off with a smile. "Hiya, what can I get you?" He asked another.

Flitting back and forth from group to group, he greeted every single person with a genuine smile. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing others light up with joy. He’d taken up working at the bakery part time to help with some expenses of running his own shop. And he had to admit, the smell of fresh baked bread may have influenced that choice. The job was never boring as the market was always flooded with people, locals and travelers alike, all looking for something. Still, he only worked with Selasi during the mornings and early afternoons. When he’d had his fill, he would return home to open the doors to his own little business.

But today, he had something a little different in mind. Instead of selling little animal pelts, herbs, bits, and bobbles, he was in and out again in a flash. Having changed into something much more comfortable for the heat, he pulled a wheeled cart behind him to the town square. Near the fountain, he’d found the perfect spot and pulled the cover off the cart. It would take him a little time to set everything up, but once it was done, he noticed people already beginning to gather around. Some faces he'd seen many, many times before. Others, much more new. Taking a seat on an overturned wooden bucket, he twirled a pair of drumsticks between his fingers. 

“Hello Vesuvia, I’m bringing you a special late afternoon show! Now then," he sat up a little, the line of his back straightening. "For those of you new to my show, we have fun here! Here's how this goes!" making a grand sweeping gesture to the gathered crowd, he continued on. "You may request a song but there is no guarantee I will play it. I will not tolerate pushing, shoving, or otherwise harmful activity during my shows. And, as always, tips are appreciated but not required, come stay for awhile and feel the beat of the sound! I'm Drexxel Volkov, and may luck be forever in your favor!" 

It started with a small metallic chime, a shortstop of little taps on the rims of the set. But before long the square was alight with the beating of drums. His whole body moved in time with each beat almost as if he were dancing along to his own song. Small children bounced and tugged at their parents' sleeves, urging them to get closer. New comers stood with delighted expressions, some even getting a little antsy standing in one place, others giving way to bouncing their bodies to the rhythm. 

There was nothing better than this, looking out into the crowd as he thrummed away the minutes, flipping the sticks and singing along even though nobody could hear him over the heartbeat he'd created. 

The crowd was thick as usual but new faces stuck out easy to him. Even with the prick of sweat beginning to roll down his forehead, he was able to focus enough to make everyone feel included in his performance. One face in particular he stopped at for more than a split second. A taller man with vivid blue hair, dark skin, and a sort of shaken demeanor. He looked….out of place perhaps amid the crowd, like he could bolt at any moment. Drexel found himself stealing glances at the man throughout his show, a dizzying knot of butterflies in his gut as he saw the man start to meld into the hum around him. The thrill of the performance carried him through like a tidal wave crashing against the shore, his fiery passion shining through clear as day. Every movement felt natural, every breath felt like a whole new beginning. Drexxel never came from a background that favored this sort of thing, rather it was something he'd picked up on his own time. He had the extra energy to spare and needed an outlet to help with it. Besides, he always did like seeing people smile and what better way to do that then get them moving? 

Into the second song now and he felt a wave of static run through him. Someone in the crowd was a magician. He could feel it. Even through the loud beating of drums and the crashing of cymbals the low electrical humming filled his body. He was sure of it. But was this magician able to sense him as well? That he did not know. He wasn’t sure precisely where the feeling was coming from, but he was determined to draw it out. With it toying at his mind, he decided it was time to show off just a little more. After all, using magic was a good way to lure out another magician. 

Drexxel simply waited as he beat along in time to find the perfect moment to really show off his moves. Normally he would have saved this bit for later in the evening, but he just had to do it now. After feeling that little pang of magic, he knew he had to show whoever was producing it, that they weren't the only one with fancy magic at their fingertips. Just a moment longer....

When the final chorus of the song hit, he let it loose. His drumsticks sparked and crackled to life, enveloped in searing hot flames. With his sticks now burning with intense heat, he slammed away at his drums with more grandeur and energy than before. With each hit fire roared from the contact point, creating a dazzling display of towers of fire in varying sizes. If anything were to draw this other magician out, it would be this. 

By the end of the show, much to his dismay, this fellow kin had not revealed themselves. It was a bit of a shame really, he would have loved to have someone join in his performance. What a dazzling display that would have been. He could only imagine what kind of magic would have complimented his own.

"Thank you all for joining me this afternoon!" He gave a bow, his hair falling a bit loose from his bun. "It's a hot one out today so make sure to stay hydrated and get some good food in your belly!" 

 He stood and lifted his arms over his head in a long stretch before using the rad cloth tied to his side to wipe away the sweat that cling to his skin. The show was over, but people still lingered in the area, some tossing coins into an open bowl near the drum set, others approaching Drexxel with questions. He was small for his age of twenty-five, standing at mere chest (or just below) level with most other adult’s that spoke with him. He had a thin, but decently sturdy frame with most of his strength apparent in his legs. Most people would know him for a scar that ran along his right cheek. Whenever asked about it he would simply tell them he didn’t remember where it came from but knew he’d had it most of his life. 

The town square was still bustling with people as he began to pack up his things. Above it all though, he could hear footsteps approaching him. He paused a moment then spun on his heel to come face to face with a regular to his shows. The man was leagues taller than himself and had a strange look to his eyes. He was holding a piece of paper, crumpled and damp with sweat in his hands. Drexxel heard the man speak but didn’t quite catch the words. 

“I’m sorry?” He responded back, urging the man to repeat himself. When he did, a chill ran down his spine. “...Go out with me. Dinner.” He pushed the paper into Drexxel’s hands. “You’re so pretty.” 

The smaller pulled the note apart just enough to read it. In shaken scrawl it read:

‘Don’t make a scene. I’ve been planning this. You and I belong together.’

He’d seen this sort of thing before in books and screenplays. Some secret admirer gets too confident and goes after someone who isn’t interested and it becomes a problem. Problem being a kind way to put it. Harassment was a better word for it. Bold of him to make the attempt in broad daylight, let alone a busy square. In the kindest way possible, Drexel looked up at the man and spoke.

“I’d love to, but I have plans this evening. Another show I mean.” 

He felt the prickle of magic in the air again, but it wasn’t coming from the man in front of him. The magician was still in the area. 

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you." the man's voice broke him from his thoughts. "I'll be picking you up this evening."

Drexxel's brow furrowed, the energy around him shifting like hissing smoke trying to catch on damp wood. 

"I'm really sorry, I mean it." He offered a sincerely looking apologetic smile. "But I really must be getting home." He made a move to leave but was stopped when the man caught his wrist. 

"You're not going anywhere short-stack." 

This....could be bad. As much as the crowd had dissipated, there were still people lingering about. Too much of a risk to cause a scene. But every fiber of Drexxel's being was telling him to flee. He needed an out. In the most...nonchalant way possible, he attempted to wriggle his wrist free. 

"Your performance really spoke to me Drexxy. It's like you were composing a symphony just for me." As he was caught in his own little moment, Drexxel pulled his wrist free. But it only lasted a second.

He felt a pull against his skin before he heard a small snap. The man had missed when reaching for Drexxel's wrist and instead caught the beaded double bracelet on his wrist. Beads had gone flying haphazardly in every direction, landing on the stones below like pellets. In that moment he felt the pull of magic much closer than before. This other magician was close. Very close. 

Drexxel was unfortunately used to people approaching him with much more....fervor than he anticipated. However, this particular instance was something else. He'd never had someone so adamant on taking him home. If this were to go on for a moment longer, he was sure to lose his composer. He may be a pretty upbeat guy but he also had a notoriously short fuse. 

That hissing aura was rapidly kindling itself from a crackling campfire to a firestorm. When his bracelet snapped, he felt something in him switch. Rage bubbled up under his skin like pot boiling over on a stove set too high. His fist clenched and a growl escaped him. 

But then, out of nowhere, everything around him stopped. He was about to throw a fiery punch but stopped short when he saw another man between him and his new 'friend'. It was the man he saw in the crowd! He said he was there to help just now. But what was he doing here and how did he…

"How--?" Then it hit him like a hard slap to the face. "So you're the magician I was picking up on!" His anger flickered back to amusement and joy. "I knew I wasn't imagining it! Oh! The helping thing, yes." 

Drexxel offered the newest stranger a warm, bright smile. Without hesitation, he grabbed his hand and shook it furiously. 

"Nice to meet you, I'm Drexxel! What do you say we blow this popsicle stand and get somewhere far away from this creep?"

The other man seemed to freeze up, like he expected a much worse response. His whole arm wobbled when Drexxel shook it. His eyes were wide and his lips parted in shock. It took him a minute to process what the smaller man had said to him. 

“Oh, I…that is….popcicles?” The man felt his face go hot, blood rushing to his cheeks. He was sure the smaller man would mistake him for a tomato. 

Drexxel watched him curiously. It was like watching the gears of a clock turning, the way this man seemed to be having an inner monologue with himself about whether or not he’d made the right call to get involved. He could feel how shaken up the man was, his hand trembling. Not very good at keeping his cool was he? Finally he spoke again. 

“It’s localized. My….my magic…it…I mean I…no, it. It will wear off when we get a distance away. He could follow? I- who, well…popsicles?”

Drexxel had always been good at making new friends and getting people to laugh and smile. He was small, yes, but he made up for his size with seemingly boundless energy. It was nearly impossible to not like the guy. But, he could tell, he kind of took this one by surprise. But it wasn't the first time someone had responded this way. Not often he got to see someone turn that red before though!

Whoever this new guy was, Drexxel had never seen his face in Vesuvia before. And he’dbeen in the city for quite some time now. It'd been since he was about nineteen. He knew almost every face in Vesuvia, even if a good handful of them were only in passing. But this one, this one he wanted to know more about. Consider his interest piqued. 

When time came back and this new magician struggled to make a clear sentence, it was all Drexxel could do to hold in a laugh. Localized magic though, not sure he'd heard of that one before. He completely skipped over the popsicle schtick.

"Localized huh? Hey, think you could use your magic with mine? I'm thinking....a wall of fire!" He still hadn't let go of the stranger's hand. "I could put a wall of fire around him, just tall enough to trip him up of course. You could stop time around it until we get far enough away that your....localization wears off!" Mossy green eyes brimmed with excitement. He gave the hand in his a squeeze. 

"I bet we'll make a great team!"

He could see the man trying to process the words coming out of Drexxel’s mouth. He’ll admit, he was a bit of a fast talker when he was excited. 

“Wall of fire…” He repeated Drexxel’s words, more to himself than the other, considering the idea. Not terribly flawed, he thought. A quick fix but not long lasting. “Worth…worth a shot.” an unsteady voice. “Wait - a team?” Vell had barely gotten the words out before the air thrummed with magical energy and, just as promised, fire sprung to life around the note wielding creep. If the situation weren’t as it was, he might have taken time to admire the flames.

"That's what I said isn't it? A team!" He mused, giving this new friend a wink. 

When time did in fact stop around his flames, the passion in his eyes burned that much brighter. He beamed at this new stranger. 

"Talk about a cool party trick. Come on, let's get out of here." Still gripping that hand, he took off. Hopefully this new friend could keep up with him. 

They took off out of the square, rushing past pedestrians and shopping stalls in a race to escape the area. Drexxel had taken the lead, ducking and diving under obstacles like it was as easy as breathing. He felt his new found companion trip up a few times but he managed to keep up the pace. He was new to Vesuvia and hadn’t the slightest idea where the two of them were headed. Drexxel looked back to check on his new friend at just the wrong moment. The edge of his sandal caught on uneven stone, sending him tumbling into an unattended fruit cart, scattering oranges along the alley. He’d never let go of this new companion’s hand, and in turn, the two of them fell together. The other man now had him pinned, a leg on either side of him. 

“I-- We-- uh…” The stranger fought to find the right words, feeling like a tea kettle ready to whistle. “We fell.” 

Drexxel could feel his own face burning a bright shade. He would have been able to laugh it off if it weren’t for his immediate attraction to this man. Impulse guiding him, he offered the man a toying smirk. “You know, I think this might be fate.” He winked. “And I don’t even know your name.” 

“M-my name?” The other man stuttered.

He tried to stand, pulling on Drexxel’s hands to pull him up as well, only to lose his footing. He fell back onto the stone, the smaller of the two now sitting perched on his abdomen. The look in his eyes was….entrancing. Intoxicating even. He couldn’t look away. “I’m Vell.” 

“Vell…” Drexxel liked the way the name felt when he said it. He let his hands drift to the other man’s chest, watching him with bright eager eyes.

Now, what was that saying about playing with fire?

[everythingsinred]

Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Natsume (pt. 13)

Oh no... 13 is an unlucky number! Oh, well.

Up to this point we've seen Natsume fall in love with Mikan. This next arc is all about discovering Natsume, however, and we've pretty much already talked about that so maybe my analysis for his perspective will leave some things to be desired, which is fine, because Mikan's will come in due time! That being said, there's plenty of stuff in this arc, especially at the start of it, to analyze for Natsume as well.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Takahashi-san has dressed all the Elementary children in their New Year’s kimonos and they are now ready to celebrate the holiday together. They eat a New Year’s feast in the dorms lounge, a rare day where the children don’t have to eat according to their star rank.

It just so happens that New Year’s Day is also Mikan’s birthday. Everyone pretends like they don’t know, because Hotaru told them to leave it a surprise. Mikan is trying to let everyone know about the special day, but the New Year’s cards come in and everyone gets immediately and understandably distracted.

Of particular interest to everyone is Ruka’s card from his mother, who references Natsume and Aoi in her letter. Now everyone is in Ruka’s business and teasing him, so Natsume steps in to help, taking the card from Mikan, returning it to Ruka, and making a very good point that she shouldn’t go looking at other people’s cards without their permission. Mikan is uncomfortable, so she decides to change the subject by asking Natsume how many cards he got this year.

With that, Natsume goes cold and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

He didn't want to sit around watching them all gush about their dumb cards anyway!

The truth is Natsume has never gotten any letters or cards, no matter what time of year or holiday it is, and he never will. We can think back to when he told Mikan that the academy would never send her letters to her grandpa. He’d said that the school would never, under any circumstances, allow them to contact the outside. Turns out, the only person who can 100% count on that is Natsume. Sure, he and Mikan are similarly targeted in strange and unfair ways, but he will always be just a little more targeted, because he’s strictly not allowed to have fun or be happy. It would make him happy to hear from his father, to know that he’s safe. The school can’t have anything like that, so they have Natsume sit in the same room as all the other kids, watching them excitedly gush about how many cards they get, while he knows very well he will receive zero each year without fail.

Natsume wants some time to himself, understandably upset about his situation. He’s thinking about Aoi and probably beating himself up because he tends to do that when it comes to his sister and his past. He genuinely has no idea where Aoi is, or if she’s safe, and the school likes to keep it that way, so they can hold it over his head. Aoi is always one of the people they threaten, somebody he works tirelessly to protect despite the fact that he hasn’t seen her in years, doesn’t know where she is, and probably won’t ever see her again.

Natsume looks out the window, sitting on his own, and sees Mikan crying to Narumi because of her guilt and because nobody remembered her birthday. We can see pretty immediately that he isn’t actually upset with Mikan, just with his own situation. He watches her, always lovelorn. Then we see him put his hand on a little bag with a holly decoration. Because of the holly, there’s an instant relation to Christmas. We can’t know what’s in the bag yet, but eventually we will discover that it’s an alice stone.

He's just been carrying this around since Christmas at the latest. How embarrassing.

Natsume made this stone at some point. I would assume it was after his birthday party, before Christmas. Because of the bag, my guess is that he had wrapped it to be a Christmas present but had never given it. That’s understandable. He’s not supposed to woo her, after all, and giving a girl an alice stone would be pretty romantic, even if she has no idea what it means. We will see this stone time and time again, because he likes carrying it around in his pocket. Perhaps he likes imagining that he could give it to her, but never actually goes through with it. Just like today, on her birthday, he will not give the stone, but he’s still carrying it because he’d like to.

The alice stone is proof of at least one thing: Natsume is very much in love with Mikan and he knows it.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Mikan is happily celebrating her birthday. Natsume has returned to the lounge, but he hasn’t said anything, so she’s still feeling awkward about what happened.

The class decides to make mochi once Tsubasa and Misaki arrive. Tsubasa tries to greet Natsume but Natsume responds coldly, with a thumbs down. Now properly irritated, Tsubasa has decided to pull a prank.

Natsume does not make mochi. He sits on his own, napping with manga over his face like always. Once the class is finished, Permy quickly offers her mochi to him, but his attention is immediately on Mikan, who is giving her mochi for him to eat. She tries to apologize, but can’t get the words out, so she leaves the bowl on the table. Natsume can tell that she’s still feeling guilty, even though he isn’t really mad at her. She was thinking of him, so it’s no surprise that he ends up eating the soup, even if it is disgusting.

It doesn't matter if it's disgusting. He's gonna eat it anyway. Because she made it. Zoe and I joke that Natsume would eat all her food (out of his unending love, of course) and eventually get used to the bizarre combinations she puts together. He might even start liking them, who can say.

Hotaru has been invited to the Hana Hime den to be a flower princess, a girl hand-picked by the middle school principal and who carries a heavy amount of prestige and status. Misaki mentions some rumors about the MSP, namely that she locks up her favorite girls in a dungeon, and that immediately gets Natsume’s attention. He’s struck, and to a first-time reader, this might seem odd. He’s strangely intrigued by a girly flower party where guys aren’t even allowed. But he’s not interested for himself. Natsume can guess based on this new information that if Aoi is anywhere on the Alice Academy campus, it’s in the Hana Hime den dungeon.

There’s always an extra invitation ball that is given to a random girl each year, so she can also attend the prestigious party, but the chances that it would land in the hands of an Elementary student are very low.

The Class B girls look for one anyway, but their search doesn’t get too far because suddenly the kids are flying across the room, sticking to each other, like Hotaru and Youichi to Ruka, Anna to Nonoko, Koko to Kitsu, and even Natsume to Mikan.

Turns out Tsubasa’s payback scheme for Natsume giving him the cold shoulder was to put sticky mochi flour into their mochi as a prank, which will keep all the children stuck to the people who ate the same mochi for a full hour.

He was counting on her never finding out he ate it, but alas.

Mikan then realizes that since she’s stuck to Natsume, that he must have eaten her mochi. He can’t argue that he didn’t, but he turns quickly to insults to distract from how sweet of a moment that could potentially be. He says he choked it down, which might very well be true, but it leaves the question of why he’d put himself through the trouble of choking it down if it didn’t mean anything to him. Hmm. Check mate, Natsume.

Then, Mikan finds out that she’s the recipient of the prize jewel, and has thus been invited to the Hana Hime party. There’s something quite fishy about Mikan being the recipient. It’s too much of a coincidence, and it isn’t one. This is all an elaborate trick to trap Natsume in the dungeon forever, and it’s not by the MSP.

Most of the groups have become unstuck, except for Hotaru, Youichi, and Ruka. Tsubasa reads the packet and discovers that some people may be stuck for two or three days as a possible side effect. Mikan and Natsume can become unstuck, but Natsume grabs her hand and keeps her still.

He's not going to miss this opportunity, even if it puts him on the spot and is kind of embarrassing. To be honest, this could possibly unravel all the work he's been doing to downplay how much he likes Mikan. What if she starts thinking he has feelings for her? It's all so risky, but he's willing to do anything for Aoi.

He’s going to do everything he can to go to that party and possibly find his sister. Getting stuck to Mikan and then her being invited to the Hana Hime den is all just too good of a chance to miss. If she can somehow still go while attached to him, it gives him an in to check out the palace and try to find the dungeon.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Natsume is adamant about keeping up the charade that he and Mikan are still stuck. It’s important to him and he’s desperate. He would do anything to save his sister, so if it means threatening Mikan a little, he’s willing to do it. It doesn’t matter that Mikan has no idea what’s going on, what matters is even the chance of going.

Narumi returns to say there’s not a good probability that Hotaru and Mikan would still be allowed to attend the party, because boys aren’t allowed and they are firmly attached to three of them. Mikan has more and more reason to not want to be stuck when she realizes that going to the bathroom and sleeping will be tricky business. Natsume is obviously not a huge fan of it either. He’s usually cold and snippy, even when bickering with Mikan, but this time he’s yelling just like she is. He’s uncomfortable too, but it’s something he’s willing to sacrifice for Aoi.

Mikan only gets more and more upset, screaming about how much she hates Natsume. He doesn’t seem to take it very seriously until Koko, who is reading her mind, asks Mikan if she likes Ruka better than Natsume, and she responds that she does.

Natsume is hurt, but sadly it’s not anything he can’t eventually come to terms with, like every other disappointment in his ceaselessly disappointing life. For now, he’s bitter, but this is great news for Ruka, isn’t it?

It’s time for sleep, and they’re standing in Natsume’s fancy special star room. At her discomfort, he offers that they can sleep in her tiny room if she’d prefer it, but the venue isn’t exactly her problem. He proceeds to be unpleasant, saying that he’s not interested in sleeping with her either, since she probably kicks a lot and talks in her sleep. But then he’s serious, still bitter when he tells her “Sorry for not being Ruka,” and promises that the whole charade would be over tomorrow.

It's on rare occasions like this that Natsume can express even the tiniest fraction of what he's really feeling, in this case jealousy and hurt.

He really never would have done this to himself if Aoi’s safety wasn’t potentially at stake. Having Mikan be so angry at him, hearing her say she much prefers Ruka to him, having to share his bed with her--it’s all stuff he doesn’t want to do! Further, he’ll probably be in serious trouble tomorrow if he does manage to find and rescue Aoi. There’s nothing fun going on in Natsume’s brain, just worry and the skeleton of a desperately laid-out plan to save his sister.

Sleeping with Mikan is something he doesn’t want to do, no doubt, but not because she probably talks and kicks in her sleep. That wouldn’t actually bother him so much. Natsume usually waits until he’s alone in his room at night to let himself be sick. According to the chapter where Tsubasa found out about his condition, Natsume sometimes wakes up in a coughing fit until he coughs up blood. He suffers and struggles and is in pain when he sleeps, and Mikan will be there this time, up close to possibly see it.

How soft his eyes get, just looking at her. It's interesting whenever he drops his facade, like now in a state of half-awakeness, and we can see just how affectionate he'd be if he wasn't always sacrificing his happiness.

But Natsume falls asleep first anyway, and pretty quickly starts having a nightmare. He’s breathing heavily and struggling, having a PTSD flashback nightmare about Aoi. But Mikan wakes him up, sitting up, concerned for him. Natsume is barely awake, but his eyes turn soft. She saves him from his nightmares in more ways than one, like walking-talking serotonin. He reaches for her, in a state of half-consciousness, because his nights are usually awful but the time he spends with Mikan usually isn’t. Maybe combining them is the way to sleep peacefully for a change. So he snuggles her. She starts freaking out, embarrassed, but Natsume tries to reason with her, and maybe with himself too, half-asleep as he is. No, no, it’s just for tonight, just for now. It’ll be like it never happened tomorrow, it’s fine. She can go right back to Ruka tomorrow, since she prefers him anyway, and it won’t be a big deal. He just wants this for now, just for a little bit. Just while he can.

It’s sad that Natsume always thinks of these moments with Mikan as aberrations. They’re little moments that he borrows or steals just to have them for now, thinking they’re meaningless to her, but carrying them like they’re precious to him. He doesn’t think they belong to him, or that he has the right to want anything from her. He holds her during the SA class’s RPG as a joke. He tells her he likes her hair down after fighting with her. He dances with her, knowing that she’s danced with lots of other people and it won’t matter as much to add him to the list. He kisses her after he assumes Ruka already has, just so he can have keep it in his memories. And he cuddles with her now, even though she’s freaking out, because he needs some comfort, even though it isn’t his place to be hugging her. He always has to reason himself into these situations, like he’s convincing himself that he’s allowed to do this one selfish thing, just as long as she doesn’t understand how much it means to him, just as long as it won’t mean anything to her, just as long as he can get away with it.

And because he’s borrowing, the next morning he acts as though her holding him is some kind of bother. He acts all irritated and pretends like nothing happened, because he was borrowing the moment to begin with. It wasn’t his right to take it, and she can’t know it meant something. It also could be that he genuinely can’t remember the last night that clearly. People do all sorts of crazy things in between sleep that they can’t remember. Maybe his lack of sense and restraint helped him get the courage to hug her in the first place, and now that he’s fully awake he can hardly remember. If this is the case, then he's probably scolding his sleepy self for being so ridiculous.

It's up to you to decide if he really can't remember or if he's pretending. Both are possible and neither would really surprise me tbh.

It’s possible, but knowing Natsume, it’s also possible he’s pretending like he doesn’t remember. Either way, he has to do damage control, because she absolutely cannot get the wrong right idea and think that he has affection for her.

The morning brings good news as well, because Natsume, Ruka, and Youichi are allowed to accompany Mikan and Hotaru, as long as they’re dressed as girls.

It’s all working out a bit too conveniently. This is Persona’s scheme to trap Natsume, so of course it would all work out in order that he could make his way to the dungeon. Natsume might be relieved that his plan is working, but it won’t go so smoothly once they’re actually in the Hana Hime den.

Conclusion

The most interesting scenes to analyze from Natsume's perspective are the ones where he chooses to be selfish just once in a while. They're such silly things to call selfish, but they are to him. Being sweet or affectionate to the girl you love should be second-nature, not something to deny yourself, but it's what he's trying to accustom himself to. We also see just how desperate he can be in trying to protect people important to him, like Aoi. The lengths he goes to in order to find her are impressive and show just how determined he is. Going forward, we'll only see more of this kind of determination.

My sister (Zoe) and I made three playlists for NatsuMikan, just like I'm making three essays. One playlist for Natsume's POV, one for Mikan's, and one general playlist for their relationship. I've been listening to the Natsume one while writing these and it's been a lot of fun! This is my long-winded way of plugging Love Song Requiem. Good bye.

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[wincore]

wasted nights | liu yangyang

pairing: yangyang x reader

words: 5.5k

summary: firstly, you don’t think you should have survived this long. secondly, this might be the zombie apocalypse but your survival doesn’t feel as threatened by zombies as it does by liu yangyang. thirdly, you’ve chosen the worst time to develop a crush.

genre: zombie apocalypse!au, fluff, humour(?)

warnings: mention of injuries & blood, violence (against zombies), dumbassery, do not attempt during an actual zombie apocalypse

song rec(s): wasted nights - one ok rock 

a/n: october birthdays get halloween specials~ although this one is just full of unnecessary appearances by cats. also campfires because october campfires hit different. (i’m definitely saying this because i was born in october) also not me writing this as a joke and reaching 5.5k words </3

It’s two hours till sundown. 

What would you be doing on a day within the ordinary? Likely getting back from after school activities, chatting with a friend or feeding the stray kittens by the school building, or maybe pretending Liu Yangyang doesn’t exist—the possibilities were endless. Now there’s only one.

“Yangyang,” you call, more worried than not.

On a day out of the ordinary, you wish you hadn’t prayed for your exam to get cancelled the day all of this broke out. You wouldn’t be scavenging like some sort of rodent and you wouldn’t be standing at the gates of an abandoned shrine, though now is undoubtedly a better time to pray. It’s not the best of situations (especially not with a certain little rascal attached to your side). 

And understatements are definitely your thing now.

“Yangyang,” you call a little louder this time, eyes shifting around the shrine area. 

Should you step in? He asked you to wait, the stone steps now looking a little glum without him skipping over them. The only signs of life you’ve seen around has been a family of raccoons looking rather smug and a single spotted dove preening itself atop a branch. The lack of visibility into the forest surrounding the shrine bothers you, like something could jump out any minute and you suck your teeth, growing annoyed. Where is that boy?

You tap your foot against the ground soundlessly. What if a zombie were to pop out? They might be slow but the sight of them is still gross enough to paralyze you. Yangyang has his baseball bat with him, which leaves you defenseless in terms of weapons. Still, it’s not like the bat would have done you any good. You are, in the truest sense of the word, average at any sort of combat and freezing at the limbs comes to you more naturally. Zombies are not fun; whatever nonsense Yangyang has been trying to explain to you for weeks is optional, as is every other suggestion that comes from his mouth. It’s quiet and quiet, creepy shrines have never been your favourite place in the city.

You hear a low growl behind you, stiffening at the sound. Best case scenario, it’s a big rat. You’d rather not think of the worst case. Eventually, you gather some courage and turn slowly only to jump back with a short scream. 

Yangyang takes the old festival mask off to reveal a giant grin on his face, urging you to knock it right off. The anger that follows is natural and he should be used to it by now. Yangyang continues smiling, as if he didn’t just pull your soul right out of your body, and when he opens his mouth to say something, you’re quick to land a swift punch to his gut. He lets out a pained cry, dropping to the ground in a squat.

“Don’t do that,” you seethe. “Why can’t you greet me normally?”

“I’m okay!” He signals a thumbs up while the other hand clutches his stomach. 

“I didn’t ask.”

He moves his hand to place it over his chest. “Ow. Oh, and to answer your question, it’s because you don’t want to do my special handshake with me.”

“Hm. Get up. You said there were supplies here. What did you find?”

He pouts, finally getting up. “I can’t believe you’re just using me for supplies.”

You cross your arms. “Just get up already.”

Yangyang springs up despite the (admittedly) strong blow to his stomach and presents to you the plastic bag he’d been holding. In any other circumstances, it would spark some disapproval on your behalf but it turns out, those things do outlive most everything. For a moment, the ridiculous image of pulling a plastic bag over a zombie’s head crosses your mind. 

Yangyang finally responds, taking out whatever items he recovered. Not everything is useful however; he’s simply taken to collecting knick-knacks. 

“I found toothbrushes! Maybe your breath will stop stinking—”

You raise your clenched fist as a threat.

“—I was kidding. Obviously. You have lovely breath.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to contain your exasperation. 

“Also, I found clean water so I filled up some bottles and yeah, I couldn’t find much else but oh! There was this huge cat and I mean huge like a big chonk kinda guy, you know? And I’m sure he was, like, trying to tell me something, like, he kept hissing when I went near him but…”

You wonder if Yangyang ever gets tired from speaking so fast, his words fading out of your comprehension. You shake your head, clearing your throat.

“Can we leave now?”

Yangyang raises an eyebrow, almost smirking as the gears in his head turn.

“You’re not… superstitious, are you?” he asks. “I heard there’s a lot of reported sightings of ghosts here.”

“No,” you blurt, quick to deny. Yangyang might have seen you crying after getting lost in the dark, almost fainting after encountering a zombie for the first time or even in deep sorrow after you lost your friend—but there’s still part of your dignity to protect before you can admit your fear of ghosts. There’s just something about this abandoned shrine; there are no visitors apart from the caretaker and if loneliness is responsible for anything, it’s making lonely things seem a whole lot scarier. You’d rather leave before the sun sets.

Yangyang laughs. “Who do you think would win in a fight? Zombies or ghosts?”

You roll your eyes. “That’s so stupid. Obviously ghosts.”

“No. Okay, maybe. I just think…”

There he goes again. 

You wonder if he was always this way—when you passed him by in the hallways, when he shot you a polite smile at club meetings or when you saw him being loud with his friends blocking part of the sidewalk. You’re sure he couldn’t have been entirely sane.

“Oh my god.”

Yangyang’s voice jerks you back to the present. You follow his line of sight to a cardboard box beneath a particularly dense shrub; it's a large one—quite possibly a carton of some commercial product which doesn’t matter anymore. However, it’s not the details of the box itself so much as it is the contents that grab your attention. 

You can almost see the sparkle in Yangyang’s eyes as he views the cats huddled together inside the box. They don’t seem to mind each other within their personal space—you count four of them, tightly packed and eyes closed in a late afternoon nap. How the box hasn’t ripped apart yet is quite a mystery, and what’s more troubling is how at ease they seem to be with the entire human race in disarray.

You grab Yangyang by the collar before he can make his way to them.

“Don’t harass them,” you say, massaging your temples. “Jesus, it’s like they’re glued to each other. Do they have to be in the same box?”

“It might just be the last cardboard box left on earth.” Yangyang shrugs.

The cats mind their own business, grooming their fur or closing their eyes in an odd sort of bliss. You wonder what it would be like to be so unbothered by all the chaos. It reminds you of someone.

“Come on,” you urge, thinking back to older times. “Don’t think I forgot how much you used to bother old Louis back then.”

Louis was the university cat, fed with so much love that he eventually started avoiding people like the plague. You wonder how he’s holding up for a brief moment.

“Don’t think I forgot how you were back then too.”

“What do you mean?” you snap, glaring at him.

“You were already a zombie,” he says before engaging in a cheap mimicry of you, drooping his eyelids and taking slow steps muttering, “I… must… maintain… gpa… grr.”

You almost take off your shoe to throw it at him before deciding it’s not worth your time. Ah, if only you had done that during club meetups, perhaps you’d have felt better about him joining. Everyone treated him so differently, and you hate to admit you now understand why. 

Everyone loves a good troublemaker.

And there happens to be another thing special about your sole competitor for the debate club’s president position. Apart from his strange antics (charms, he says), even this virus—this fuckall literal killer virus can’t infect him. He’s immune—an occurrence with a possibility lower than you finding him attractive. (There, you said it.)

You look at Yangyang still talking about Louis and a small smile crosses your face. You’d feed your right arm to a zombie before you admitted it but it’s nice having him around. You furrow your brows at the sudden familiar bubbling in your chest and shove it away in a flash before your conscious decides to tell you what it is. 

Your heart jumps to your throat when you make eye contact with Yangyang, turning away in a rather awkward manner. Oh, the end of the world does awful things to you.

“Are you listening?” Yangyang raises an eyebrow. “Oh my god, you weren’t listening at all.”

You roll your eyes. “I was distracted.”

“By me?” he offers in a sing-song voice, prompting a smack from you. It’s easier to pretend this way.

Yangyang massages his shoulder with a huff. “Why are you hitting me so much today? I’ve counted like eight and the day’s only just over.”

“Sorry,” you mumble before clearing your throat. “I mean, you’ve also said something annoying, like, more than eight times today.”

“I’m not annoying.”

There’s a pause.

“Okay, maybe a little bit.”

The sun starts to lay in rest by the time you reach the city. Compared to the green, red and yellow of the yet standing shrine, this place is in dull monochrome with the occasional coloured signs that flicker to life. You force yourself to think but have a hard time remembering if it was always this way. Was it any different with the rushing cars or apathetic crowds? You can’t tell. You were part of them, after all. 

“Hey, how about a bottle flip challenge but with traffic cones?” Yangyang thinks aloud, walking backwards as you pass by a particularly well-lit alley. 

You roll your eyes in response. Is it the lack of people making him that way? Your unflustered companion looks at home among neon lights, all of them seeming to point towards him as an answer to a question you haven’t quite figured out yet. 

You glance at the alley just a second longer. The electric lanterns still glow red, and although dim, there are many. The shops almost look like you could enter and be greeted with a crowd of university kids or a group of office workers drinking away in celebration of the weekend. You sigh. It’s most certainly deserted inside; there’s no doubt. At the most, the tables are still arranged neatly and the meat grills aren’t completely rusted. You wonder if it’s a Friday.

There was never much grass in the city but whatever growth there was has withered into a mustard yellow or a lamenting grey. An empty city is hardly appealing, but you can’t deny the ill-favored things you’ve done the past few months in the absence of people—a part of you questioning whether breaking into supermarkets is still against the law when no one’s around to keep it. You smile at the memory of Yangyang pushing you around in a shopping cart, though you’d gotten drunk off the (stolen) liquor prior. The neon lights hanging as a banner over sketchy shops sometimes spark alive before dying down over and over again, and to be fair, you don’t think they ever shined too bright. Ironically, they’re the liveliest thing about the city now. 

The sky’s soaked in ink at a time you assume to be around seven in the evening. You walk closer to Yangyang without realizing; it’s not often you’ve been out this late the past few months.

“Hey.” Yangyang snaps you out of your daze. “Be careful.”

The words are strange coming from him but you understand why. You look up ahead with caution and a shiver runs down your spine as you stare at the intersection, a lone, tattered figure droning aimlessly. It’s only one, you tell yourself. And they’re slow.

The memories of your previous encounters send warnings over your skin, shivers begging you to run as fast as you can. You would if it weren’t for Yangyang’s grip on your hand, tugging you forward gently and though it’s something he does every time, you wonder if he knows how you’re really feeling. His footsteps are soundless, with the same red sneakers he’s worn since the beginning of this but something tells you it’s not the shoes that give him a cat’s footfall. The purple lights flicker on and off over the shop on the opposite street, the suddenness of it making you latch onto Yangyang for a short-lived moment. You’re quick to let go, throat too dry to make any sound. 

You curve around what would be a straight path, careful not to be in the creature’s line of sight when you cross. The streets seem wider when they’re so empty, and somehow it feels more unlawful this way. Yangyang signals to you to stay closer, and you follow before bumping into his back when he stops abruptly. There’s absolutely no sound, the feeling in your gut much worse than at the shrine.

“Something’s wrong,” Yangyang whispers.

A strangled shriek erupts from your mouth when something launches itself onto the two of you, making you land on your butt. You would’ve placed your hands over your eyes, but you’ve learned how to be less of a coward these past few days. 

A shaky breath leaves you. A cat. It was a stray cat. The little asshole looks at you with almost twinkling eyes, tail swishing from side to side before deciding you’re not worth its time. Your shoulders sag, a moment of relief despite your stiff muscles.

“Uh, (name)?”

You look up only for your stomach to fill with dread. The zombie from before is staring directly at the two of you, the same vacant look in its eyes that has haunted you for the entirety of the apocalypse.

“It’s okay, he’s too slow,” Yangyang reminds you, voice barely a whisper as he helps you stand.

“We can just take the other street—it’s a little longer but it’s mostly safe and there’s no way he can—”

Yangyang is interrupted by a sickening growl from behind you and you jump back. There’s another one. And another. You count four more before holding back a swear. Yangyang grabs you by the shoulder and the two of you take a step back, onto the sidewalk. There’s a shop behind you; you read a smeared sign above the plastic door curtains indicating a dumpling place. Even if you were to hide in there, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe. 

But if you’ve learned anything in these months, it’s that anything is always better than nothing.

The night has settled in completely, you realize. You’re about to tug Yangyang to the inside as you turn around, only to freeze up in your spot. A pale woman emerges from the store, her makeup still fresh but you know that look, the look in her eyes. How cruel.

“Please,” she mumbles, taking a step towards you and you think you might just cry. It’s not long before she turns, you think with dread.

You stumble back to Yangyang when she emits a blood curdling screech, lunging at you and to either your alarm or worse, relief, Yangyang pushes you back. You watch with wide eyes as the woman sinks her teeth into his arm, nausea growing at the sight of blood. He moves fast though, his arm swinging the baseball bat to meet the woman in the head, hard enough to knock her out. In these few moments, one of the zombies is close enough to reach an arm out towards you and you swear you can hear the horrid sound of his bones cracking when you step back. The longer you remain in this state, the slower you are. You suppose you should take comfort in these words but when you look at it, you still see a man.

Hollow. They’re all hollow. 

You take a deep breath.

Just as the thought crosses your head, you see Yangyang swing his bat again, meeting the zombie on the head and much to your wide-eyed horror, the head flies off into the dumpling shop and the body reacts with just about as much confusion as you do. It wildly waves about its hands in the now vacant spot before crumpling onto the road with a quiet realization.

Yangyang makes a face, pressing his knuckle to his mouth to prevent himself from what you presume is gagging. However, when you look closely, he seems to be holding back a laugh instead and very painfully so. You know he has a habit of laughing at the most inappropriate times but this, it really takes the cake.

“Home run?” he suggests, turning to you with a sheepish half-grin. There’s no hint of malice in his voice and you think that it’s probably not that he enjoys swinging his baseball bat at zombies. 

“You’re disgusting,” you reply, shaking your head.

“Maybe I should leave you here then.” 

You can’t believe he has the gall to be cheeky with blood running down his arm and four of the undead drooling at the sight of you two. 

“Do you think we can find ingredients that aren’t stale here? I miss having dumplings.”

“Yangyang.”

“Okay, okay.”

The other ones are still far enough and the two of you take this chance to run off towards the street Yangyang mentioned earlier and safely out of view. You notice him panting heavier than before, and your eyes scan over his arm in worry. The bite is ugly, red with oozing blood, and you hold back the urge to ask him if he’s anaemic. 

Yangyang follows your eyes before an ‘ah’ leaves his lips. He spins his head to the right, trying to catch a glimpse of the wound in the same manner a dog chases after its own tail. He puts the bat down to try and twist his arm to see the injury but you stop him, clicking your tongue at his silly behaviour.

“You’re not twelve, Yangyang,” you scold. “Let’s get back to the hotel first.”

He shrugs, and you think some provoking words are ready to leave his mouth when he simply picks up his bat and walks off. You blink before quickening your steps to catch up with him. The blood dripping down his forearm makes you feel a little unwell but you know better than to touch infections.

It takes around fifteen minutes longer than usual to reach the hotel—Yangyang was right. It is safer here, with no zombies lurking around the corners. He must have been out late when he was scouting, you think with distaste.

You reach the now-rusting gates of your haven without trouble and the moment you reach, Yangyang falls to his knees, heaving a breath he seems to have been holding. You rush to him, eyes frantic when you reach your hand out to him, and he flinches, moving away from you.

“Don’t,” he mutters before getting up. “You turning into a real zombie would be my personal nightmare.”

It’s not enough to curb your worry but you follow him nonetheless, the stupid, wavering grin on his face making you unable to decipher what he’s really feeling. 

The familiar smell of honeysuckle washes into you as you pass by the entrance, locking the door behind you as Yangyang falls onto one of the chairs in the lobby. Kunhang happened to be passing by, a muffled swear leaving him when he sees the blood on Yangyang’s arm.

“You didn’t touch him, did you?” he asks, pulling on his gloves to further see the wound. A former med student is the best you have here, and somehow, you’ve never seen him complain about having to take care of someone as bothersome as Yangyang. 

You shake your head in reply to Kunhang and watch as he runs from shelf to shelf to procure more bandages than you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve been seeing an awful lot lately. 

“We’re going to run out of bandages in a week if he keeps this up,” Kunhang says with a frown, moving so fast you can barely see his hands. “He’ll be okay, I guess. The virus just makes him dizzy.”

He’s probably thinking the same thing you are. Something serious happening to Yangyang is a little bit of a miracle. Maybe he’ll finally be set right in the head. 

Even so, you know Kunhang is worried despite his quick response, his frown lines deepening once he’s done wrapping up. He sighs before waltzing off to discard his gloves.

It’s not that you aren’t impressed by Kunhang; you’ve just seen him do that too many times to count. And of course, it’s mostly Yangyang on the receiving end. They might be good friends but this also happens to be the only time they're serious together. Moreover, Kunhang seems to beat Yangyang in the talking-for-twelve-hours-straight department. You have to admit though, being in charge of first aid for the few people stuck in this hotel is not an easy business. 

You take a seat opposite to Yangyang, dozing off in his chair and wonder if you should wipe the drool off his chin. Disgusting, you think to yourself, but another part of you dares to offer the word cute. 

The best thing about barricading yourself in a hotel during the apocalypse is not having to worry about beds. There’s at least five hundred rooms in this skyrise, more than enough for, what, sixteen people? The place is so big that you hardly run into the others. The only rule around here is regarding the pantry—to write down who’s taken what on the notepad stuck to one corner. Despite what movies show, people are far more helpful to each other in times of need, more so than usual even. You relax into the chair, the velvet cushion feeling comfortable against your back. 

There’s a nice communal feeling in this place. 

You frown. It’s not like you can stay here forever. 

At the very least, you can pretend each sundown and sunrise is ordinary here. You close your eyes, and slowly, thoughts of why you’re trying so hard to remember life before this drift away.

//

Yangyang wakes up before you do, grinning like crazy as he shrugs you awake. You stare at him through groggy eyes, untangling your limbs from yourself. The cold seeps into you and you shiver, hugging yourself.

“We found the keys to the lounge,” he rushes, albeit in a gentle voice. “Guess what?”

“Unh?”

“There’s a campfire spot over there! The others already started but I thought I should wake you up.”

It’s just like him to be excited about something like that. You get up nevertheless, Yangyang pulling you through the stairs and onto the only elevator that seems to work around here. There’s quite a few things about this hotel left to be figured out. You’re going to have to start worrying anyway when the power from the generator runs out.

Kunhang and an older man, Mr Kang, are the only ones there once you reach. You had expected it but the lounge is gigantic and a small part of it provides the artificial campfire area. There are paintings of wild animals and trees for children, you assume, on the walls only cut off by a large vent on the ceiling. The fire burns bright over the large circle of soil and firewood, whose authenticity is debatable. You sigh at the warmth, having grown tired of the autumn weather’s mood swings.

Kunhang greets the two of you with a grin before delicately poking Mr Kang to at least acknowledge your presence. It’s funny, the lot of you.

The place is a little small, considering there’s a literal fire in the middle of the room. You almost sit on Yangyang because he shifts too suddenly at Mr Kang’s disapproval of proximity, a small yelp leaving you whereas Yangyang, for the first time, looks like he’d rather die. He mutters an apology, and two of you manage to sit a good two feet apart, sudden awkwardness rising in the air—all of it unnoticed by Mr Kang. You heard he was a banker but if Kunhang and Yangyang had a polar opposite, it would most certainly be him. You can’t even remember the man’s voice.

You think you should say something but Kunhang’s laughter breaks the silence. There’s an unspoken exchange between him and Yangyang, piquing your curiosity though you aren’t sure what you should be asking. You just assume it’s one of their stupid inside jokes.

“I left your gift on your table. You can add it to your dumb shoe collection,” Kunhang tells Yangyang, smiling before standing up to stretch. “I’m going to bed. Mr Kang, won’t you accompany me?”

Mr Kang gets up begrudgingly and you’re about to ask them to stay longer when Kunhang turns to you enthusiastically. “Good night, (name). Don’t have too much fun. Although, I suppose there’s no better time to have too much fun either.”

You watch with furrowed brows as the two disappear into the doorway and down the stairs. You spend a couple of moments in silence before clearing your throat. When it goes unnoticed, you turn to Yangyang despite the warmth on your face. 

“It’s not dumb,” he mutters to himself, a little zoned out.

You stare at him for a few moments and the familiar feeling rises in your throat, now with a little voice to accompany it. 

Cute.

You cough, distracting yourself with any and all thoughts you would rather have, even of the zombies. Now isn’t the time—or is it the perfect time? You shake your head, calming yourself.

“Does it… hurt?” You ask, eyeing Yangyang’s arm.

He looks up as if broken from a daze, the campfire lights still dazzling in his eyes. You hold back a laugh. He really is a child; if he’s so easily mesmerized by fires, that is.

“Probably not any worse than the lady I whack-a-mole’d. Now that must’ve hurt.” Yangyang puffs his cheek before looking straight at you.

You stare back. It’s not the weirdest thing he’s said.

“What? I feel bad beating the crap out of zombies sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head. 

You hum in response. The thought of Yangyang developing a conscience is almost as bad as having to think about zombies. Though, you’ll have to admit, it does give you a strange relief. Zombies can’t really feel pain—they are, after all, numb in every possible sense—but some part of you wonders if it’s alright like this. Morals and survival aren’t meant to overlap. 

You feel the need to distract yourself with something.

“Hey,” you call, moving closer to Yangyang such that your shoulders almost touch. Before you know it, you brush the hair from his face, trying to style the mess into something more neat—a thing you’ve been wanting to do since the first time you saw him. Every time you’d see the messy mop of hair at an official event of the debate club, you’d have this strong urge and an almost putrid form of annoyance. You still don’t know how he managed to get in.

“You don’t look terrible with parted hair,” you muse. “You could’ve looked more decent at the debates.”

You look down from his hair to see Yangyang frozen, eyes wide as if a deer in the headlights.

“Are- Are you not breathing?” you ask.

Yangyang sucks in a large chunk of air, fast enough to choke on it and break into a coughing fit as he turns away from you. You reach out to pat his back but he waves his hand at you, indicating he’s fine before he can turn to you.

You look at him with no particular emotion, the night breeze having worked its way to you.

“What was that about a gift? Are you and Kunhang getting things for each other without telling me?” you say, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

There's a short pause, filled with the crackling of fire.

“It’s my birthday,” Yangyang says with a small smile as the campfire lights dance across his cheeks.

And yet, the words come out sad as if he’d been waiting for an occasion to tell you. You look at him, eyes widening ever so slightly accompanied by the loss of words and take a sharp breath.

“I’m not going to ask for a gift,” Yangyang teases. “Don’t look so worried.”

You open your mouth and close it again, unable to explain the gentle wash of sadness overcome you when you see just a boy. For all the talking he does, he never asks for much. 

“I mean, I- I liked spending the day with you. Why do you look so sad? Did I say something? Again?”

You look over his features, from his brow bone to his wide eyes to his lips and the conclusion arrives as gently as the end of the world. What’s the worst that could happen?

You quickly pull him into a hug, still careful of his injury, and a vaguely embarrassing sound escapes Yangyang, something akin to a sheep’s call. He clears his throat which turns into coughing before he can wrap his arms around you, his breathing soft against your shoulder. 

“I’m- I’m alive, you know? I don’t think I’m dying any time soon. I- I can’t even get infected! You know that.”

“That’s not why I’m- I…” You pull back, steeling your eyes so you don’t feel the warmth of embarrassment. 

Just like you prepare for debates, you think to yourself. Maybe Yangyang was right about you being a zombie—the way you follow the same drudging formula.

“I like you,” you say, your words more of a strained whisper but they’re out before you know it. You can fake confidence, you tell yourself. It’s horrible timing and spending your (potentially) last days with someone who rejected you is just another way to shoot yourself in the foot.

But part of you has been wanting to do this for so long that you almost don’t mind.

Yangyang sucks in a breath, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as he straightens.

“That was- Wow. Okay. I- Uh. Wow.”

You let the heat grow stronger in your cheeks, racking your head for an explanation or even a lie. Maybe you can say it was a mistake. 

“I- I meant…” You lose track of your words. You can’t lie.

“I’ve never been confessed to,” he blurts, and if you squint, you swear you can see him blushing.

“Huh?”

Yangyang coughs again, followed by the same embarrassing sound. “That was- That was the first time.”

The silence between you is accompanied by the crackling of fire and the soft path-making of wind. You’re at a loss for words, something that you should be used to by now—they clearly belong to someone else.

“Oh my god, that was so stupid,” he says, pulling a horrified face as he frantically waves his hands about. “I meant to say I like you too but I- I guess I forgot to say it out loud. Ah, crap- I sound even stupider now, don’t I?”

Your lips twitch, trying to contain your smile but you’re seized with uncontrollable laughter anyway. The mortified expression on Yangyang’s face makes you burst into another fit of giggles before you can somewhat compose yourself.

“I think that’s the longest you’ve been quiet for,” you say in between recurring laughter. “Did anyone ever tell you being able to talk fast doesn’t get you ahead in debate clubs?”

Yangyang frowns.

“Oh, I just joined because I thought it’d get on your nerves,” he says, not a hint of jest in his voice.

You straighten away from him, the smile dropping from your face.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grins sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and offering no explanation. You huff in exasperation, getting up abruptly to avoid another oncoming headache. It’s a little difficult, considering you have the human version of it right beside you.

“Wait- Where are you going?” Yangyang scrambles up to his feet. “It’s my birthday, you know?”

You turn around and put your hands on your hips, a small smile on your face at the sight of him. “It’s midnight already.”

“Oh. How was I supposed to know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Maybe the little rascal is special.

“Hey,” Yangyang calls. “You know, since this is the end of the world and all…”

You stare at him, heartbeat erratic at the lack of distance and despite the fading of teenage fantasies. Yangyang shifts nervously, glancing here and there while simultaneously trying to keep eye contact with you, an action which makes you hold back a chuckle. There’s a particular twinkle in his eyes but he can’t seem to be able to look at you straight.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, finally.

And what a daring end to the world it is.

[iphoenixrising]

How do you think the boys will react to Dr Tim in fear gas (like full dose of it)??

Hi babe.

I’ve said it before, but ah. Be careful what you wish for, heh. 

But no, really hasn’t poor Dr. Tim been through enough? Guy has already narrowly escaped collapsing bridges, been up close and personal with the Joker, fought off Scarecrow’s goons, AND was smack dab in the middle of an honest-to-God Arkham Riot.Now we’re going to just get him all up in some fear toxin? Good Lord, can the man get a break? He hasn’t had some smut in a while tbh. (winks over to chippon)

BUT.

WARNINGS FOR: 

Mentions of child abuse 

Mentions of gore, blood, grossness 

You will be crying by the end. Guaranteed. 

Extreme mental and emotional HURT 

Tim’s fears are Jesus-Fucking-Christ level bad 

You’ve been warned :D

**

He’s not even back to work yet after that ambulance wreck, still feels the road rash, pulled muscles, and residual owfuck from a little rough and tumble time at Arkham Asylum. 

But, he’s in a convenience store for fuck’s sake because Jay wouldn’t let him have coffee this morning (nah, Sweets. Ya ain’t godda get up yet. Jus’ go back ta sleep wid’ me, yeah? We’re gonna stay here all warm n’ snug. Sshh. I gotcha, Timmy), and he’d managed to wrangle himself out of Jay’s arms when he woke up again, found out there’s only enough grounds for a shitty, weak pot, and Tim can’t even stand the thought of it.

Unfortunately, he gets a whole lot of random bad guys stopping in for those terrible hot dogs and road drinks on their way out of Gotham.

(Crane looks just as horrifying as he remembers from the hospital that one time, and Tim fervently hopes, hopes none of these henchmen recognize him in a beat-up hoodie and saggy sweatpants.)

What makes matters worse?

Crane isn’t even trying to be, you know, an evil villain.

There’s a put-upon sign behind the mask, and the fear gas comes out of nowhere, getting everyone in the store because the guy just doesn’t want to deal with civilians right this moment. He missed the break-out and decided to have a party all on his own, but he hasn’t even gotten the time to get the plan for his next evil scheme ready yet.

So he raises a hand and sprays a little gas to keep people from being lucid enough to call the cops and rat him out. He needs some time for a good getaway.

Tim, however, sees the inevitable coming and is frozen to the spot, can’t get his weak knees to unlock so he can at least try to duck. Instead, he gets it full in the face.

In a sweep, Crane sprays the small store as his henchmen drop a $20 in front of the coughing clerk and take off back out the door. Hotdogs and all.

Tim scrabbles for his phone, the noxious cloud makes his eyes water, his lungs fucking burn on the first choked, shocked breath. Even when he tries to hold his breath, he’s too terrified, knees going out just as he thumbs the screen behind his back.  

“Timmy?” is tinny and far away while he tries to at least breath shallow, eyes dart to the door, his brain tuned into the whole get out and away before the inevitable happens.

He’s got to get to Jay, he’s got to get out of here and get to someone. If he starts talking while hepped up on fear gas, he could give away everyone’s secrets. He could tell random strangers who everyone really is, he could tell anyone their weaknesses, he could put everyone in danger.

Building blocks. If he can get to a lab, to Steph’s, back to his penthouse, anywhere not here, he can probably crack the building blocks of the toxin before it takes him over completely.

He doesn’t even hear, “Baby? Ya there? Didja butt dial again? Thought I tol’ ya ta stay in bed with me, yeah?”

Not with the door right there.

All he has to do is make his weak knees fucking work, ignore the burn in his lungs, his brain, his eyes teary with the cloud still thick around him, with the abrupt slam of his heart in his chest, with the sudden shadows in the niches that hadn’t been there before.

He just has to get to that fucking door. Has to be able to run.

Tim manages to mostly get there before the screaming starts.

**

Dick is working the day shift in the uniform when word Crane struck come over the wire.

Whenever it’s one of the big bads, he gets close enough to get the details before handily disappearing to slip into something a little more comfortable.

(He knows his ass is spectacular in the Nightwing suit.)

A boop from his pocket is his Batcomm notification, and he pops it in just as he dips into the men’s room with a plan to get out one of the usual windows.

“We’ve got Crane on the move, O. Might want to drop B a line.”

“Already aware, Boy Wonder. It’s more severe than you realize.” His phone goes off as Dick is shimmying out the window and up the building where he keeps a spare suit in a nice waterproof bag hidden in the overhang.

When he checks whatever oh shit is added to a potentially deadly scene, he’s got a text from Jay and a picture from O.

Surveillance footage from inside a convenience store where Crane evidently attacked some civilians. His breath catches when one of the faces turned away to try avoiding the gas is–

Timmy.

“Fuck,” is a little breathless with a very different kind of fear, and Dick immediately turns it up a notch, throwing his suit on and slapping a domino over his eyes. “What can you tell me, O?”

Quick check on what he’s got to work with.

“B and Rob are already in pursuit. Signal is approaching to assist. As far as we can tell, this is the only place Crane managed to hit. Everyone’s mostly been accounted for by GCPD.”

“I sense a but coming–” and he checks his phone two seconds before time to fly, and the text from Jay is something about Tim and screaming, and now he won’t pick up the phone...

“O?” Because dread strikes him in the chest.

“He’s the only civilian missing. He must have already taken off before the patrol car got there.”

“He was hit with fear gas, and he took off?”

The jumpline is already in his hand before he even hits the edge of the roof at a run. It’s go time.

So, it’s a race to find Tim, all doped up on fear toxin and probably tripping out of his mind in one of the most dangerous cities in America where people like the Joker and Two-Face might hold a grudge.

Jason was already suited up before he sent that text to Dickie, was outta there when the sounds came over the line, the familiar screams. It’s a particular flavor of terror spelled out that Timmy, was probably in trouble.

He hits up O with the deets while Nightwing hits the almost-night, making the first swing fucking count.

**

The world alters and shift around him, almost throwing him off his feet more than once.

He’s already completely lost his sense of direction, trying to keep his eyes closed in a last ditch effort to keep the hallucinations at bay.

(It’s just chemicals fucking with your brain. You can beat this. It’s not real. None of it is real. You know that. You know it’s just–

Brick under his fingertips, abrading the sensitive skin. Stumbles over a curb, and the loud whonkkkkk almost rips a surprised yip out of him. Tim cracks his eyes open, heart picking up when the yellow lights look like the porch light from the Johnson’s house–

– before they brought him back.

“He’s…a special child. He needs more than we can give him–”

“He can’t get along with the other children, so I’m afraid–”

“Well, you see. Mary is pregnant! It’s-it’s a miracle, and we like Tim, really we do–“

Tim grits his teeth, hears so much wahwahwah than anyone really talking, telling him to get the hell out of the street, what is he thinking?

But instead of a shadow of a motorist that had pretty much almost run him over, all he can see is Detective Gordon, way back when he’d been the one to come to the Drake’s manor and give him the news.

His mom and dad weren’t coming back, not ever.

“N-No,” he whimper screams, slamming his eyes closed, and takes off again. It’s a full tilt run, every person he meets with someone else’s face.

Michael McCannon, the guy that beat the shit out of his foster kids.

Lilly Wright, wanted the income from having a foster in her house, didn’t care if he went to school, if he slept, if he ate, if he was dead in a gutter because he fell off a roof running after–

He smacks his palms into brick, scraping his face, turns and there’s Tony Stark back when he’d first met. Intimidating and imposing, eyes narrowed in distaste.

He runs faster, only half recognizes the buildings as he goes. He knocks into someone, eats face in an alley, panting and sweating, eyes full of tears, brain on fucking fire.

“Drake!” Hissed from the shadows, the darkness parting for red, gold, and green.

But it’s too much red, too much red.

“N-no, nonono,” and now he’s outright sobbing, scrabbling to his feet because Dami, Dami, is in a ragged, torn tunic, skin broken and blood fucking pouring out of him.

He’s got both hands on the vigilante, brain failing him, spitting out the mortality rate of being run the fuck through.

“No, no, no Dami, Dami,” he’s pressing on the worst wound, tears streaming down his face, babbling incoherently, apologizing, begging this kid, the little brother he should have had, not to fucking die and leave him too.

Robin, laying where the doctor had apparently thrown him, is staring up in shock, hands on Drake’s forearms where he’s pressing at some imaginary wound.

“Don’t die, Dami. Stay with me! Please stay with me!” Is fairly screamed in the cold night.

And Robin catches his breath at this, this, as one of Drake’s worst fears.

“D-Don’t leave me. I can’t lose you. I-I can’t lose you, too.” Tim weeps, pulling both hands back, staring down at what must see as blood and viscera.

“I am sorry, Timothy,” Robin breathes out hoarsely, frees a hand to pull back, teeth clenched against what he’s about to do, and punches their doctor with real intent.

As he hopes, Tim goes down like a stone, unconscious on the dirty ground, tears still on his face from terror and grief.

In a breath, Robin is on his feet, kneeling over Drake, tapping the comm in his ear. “Hood, N, Father. I have located him. He has been…affected. I am uncertain if the anti-toxin in my belt would do further harm, so I have not administered it as of yet.”

“Rob,” Hood’s response is immediate, “Big Wing’s with Daddy Bat takin’ care a’ the last of ‘em.  I’m headin’ atcha now.”

“Meet me at the Black Bird. Hurry,” Robin cuts off, and gently, oh so gently for his normal, lifts Tim’s upper body against his chest, points a gauntlet at the roof to fire the jump line, reel them both in.

At sixteen, the youngest vigilante has nearly outgrown the doctor, and has no trouble lifting Tim up to carry him across the roof, occasionally looking down to make sure Tim is still out.

His own vehicle, the Black Bird, is hidden close to a safe house for the Bats. Balancing Tim in his arms, he taps his utility belt, the container hiding the car folding away.

Hood is on the ground, immediately takes Timmy from Rob, looking at the scrapes on his face.

“In, in!” Robin snaps, shooing Hood in the back with their Doctor. “We must get him to the Cave immediately.”

He dives in the driver’s seat, revving the engine fast, tapping his mask for the whiteouts to slide up. He takes in the immediate area with a glance, and peels out into the night.

Jay deactivates the helmet, tosses it in the front seat, wraps both arms around Timmy in his lap, tapping the comm to listen up at Dickie and B on clean-up whiles he winds up to get all the deets outta the Demon.

“Tell it ta me straight, Lil’ D. How bad wassit?”

He’s looking in the rearview because the kid’s eyes always give him away.

He ain’t prepared to see the Demon blinking rapidly, jaw clenched tight. “He is fully effected. Hallucinations, inability to discern outside voices. I called to him. He was not able to hear me. See me, yes, but he believed I was…dying. He attempted to treat me, asked me not to…”

Robin makes a hard right turn, shoves his foot against the pedal to drift it. He shoves in the clutch, shifts the gears, biting down on his lower lip (“Don’t leave me, I can’t lose you.”).

He evens out, hitting the Robert Kane Bridge to take them out of Gotham proper and closer to the Manor.

“Dames?” Jay makes it soft because the kid is obviously shook.

Robin pushes the car to 105 mph to sail over the bridge.

“His fear was he would be unable to save me. The wound…he believed the wound made by Hush would kill me yet again, I believe.”

Jason Todd breathes in sharply, freeing up a hand to fit at the back of Rob’s neck, make circles with his thumb.

“Sorry that mighta brought ya back.” His tone is low with sympathy, empathy.

And for a moment, Damian Wayne, not Robin, leans back into that hand, lets it ground him while the night flies by the window, while he watches the darkness for everything while he downshifts, when the road starts getting less defined further out of the city they go.

“It is not that,” Damian admits, “one day, one of us, perhaps all of us, will not return. Nothing he can do will prevent that.”

“I know, Baby Bat. Let’s hope it ain’t any day soon, you feel me?” And Jay, tries to keep it gentle, tries to keep the circles going, tries to be easy about it so Baby Bat won’t try ta pull away, put it all back inna box to fester.

“Agreed. However, do not be surprised if he comes to fighting. We must monitor his vitals closely if this toxin is similar to the last batch.”

“I gotcha. S’all right, we’re gonna take care of him, ain’t we?”

Damian makes an affirmative noise and leans forward out of Jay’s grip, pressing the gas, then gearing back up.

**

Tim comes to as the restraints are tightened, Alfred Pennyworth securing several sticky discs to his chest, and a pulse oximeter to his finger.

“We’ll see you soon, Son. Be a good boy while we’re gone.”

Makes his eye fly open wide, his heart slam painfully against his rib cage, his arms jerk where his wrists are restrained.

“Boys,” a cultured voice calls the second his eyes open, but Tim can’t see anything, not with his heart in his throat, not with his Dad’s voice ghosting out after over a decade and a half.

When he glances over, horrified at the tall figure coming closer, hands raised up in surrender, and his eyes were empty, gorey sockets, black sludge from the empty cavity. Purple lips and half-rotting flesh, the last clothes he’d seen his father wearing, his best suit, the one he’d wear to Drake Industries on the stints they were home and Dad worked in the office.

Tatters and grave dirt, bone peeking out from shriveled flesh…

“Dad,” is a broken, hoarse croak, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried. I tried to be good,” and the closer his dead, decaying Father gets, the more he fights whatever is keeping him still, won’t let him run for his own fucking sanity, “I tried! I tried and you still didn’t come home! It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t–!”

He chokes, gags because Dad is right by the bedside, and now Tim can see the inside of his black mouth, the tongue putrid and pale without blood, and the smell–

He’s probably screaming, even if he can’t hear himself.

Something is strapped over his face, and he fights it, knows it’s a plastic mask, pumping something into his lungs, just like the fear toxin.

A turn of the head, and it’s the reversal of his first meeting with-with

The Joker.

Harley isn’t on the table bleeding out this time. It’s the two of them standing over him, a huge needle full of green sludge right by the Joker’s shoulder, right next to his horrifically sick smile.

He’s wearing a mock head lamp and white coat, Tim’s own badge dangling from his pocket. He turns to the smaller figure of Harley, the nurse sidekick with a frightening set of tools. The orbitoclast is brown with old blood and brain matter, the leucotome wire is rusty, the plunger to send that wire into his brain almost black with old gore.

And he fucking chokes.

“Hold on to those, Nurse. If my wonderful formula doesn’t do the trick, then we’ll have options! Huh, huh, huh,” and the bastard leans into him, that sickening smile, those wide, lucid eyes.

“He’s going to be our good boy, one way or the other, isn’t he?” And the dark growl of it, the promise is what makes him start screaming again.

Hands on his straining arms, a big body right by the bed when he turns, flinches away as far as the hold could let him.

“Oh no. No no no,” is a whimper, a plea, “I didn’t say anything to anyone, Mr. Johnson, I swear. I didn’t tell anyone anything.”

The grip on his arms becomes bruising, painful, terrifying all over again.

Tim clamps down, remembers the beatings hadn’t been as bad if he could keep quiet.

“Jesus Christ, you’re such a little shit.”

It’s Mr. Johnson’s words, but Jason’s voice.

“You need a good ass beaten’, kid. That’ll straighten you right out. That’s what all you fuckers need. Lucky for you I don’t mind making sure you keep on the straight and narrow.”

He doesn’t realize he’s chanting, “don’thitme, don’tdon’tdon’t, please please,  don’t,” while Mr. Johnson backs off, the old recriminations and reprimands rolling right out in Jay’s smooth baritone.

He’s outright sobbing, arms trembling above his head where he’s trapped, trapped. He can’t move, he can’t run, he can’t hide, he can’t–

And a blink takes him to the same fire escape outside his penthouse where he’d found Nightwing bleeding out, pulse already weakening, breathing shallow–

“What–“

The whiteouts on that domino are up so he can see Nightwing’s blue eyes flutter open weakly, can see the hand move gingerly to the bleeding wound on his abdomen.

“I can help you,” he yells out, hoping to make those eyes look at him, to get the vigilante to come to him, “I can save you, but you’ve got to get here.” This time his hands, his arms, his whole body is straining to get free, to reach the vigilante that needs him, that’s dying on him while he fucking watches.

The vigilante half-smiles at him, finger stripes more dark than blue, and his head goes back, visibly slumping.

“Nightwing, Nightwing, look at me! Open your eyes!” He knows he’s begging, fighting, but there’s bands around his chest, around his wrists, his ankles and thighs.

“I need, I need sutures, gloves, blood bag, and-and, I need, I need–“ but Nightwing’s head flops and his chest stutters, “LOOK AT ME! You can’t die like this, you can’t. I’m right here, I can save you!”

He sobs out loud, whole body jerking to get free.

“Ssshhh, baby doll, ssshhh,” makes him open his eyes even though he can barely see through the tears streaming down his face, his sobbing, his heart pounding copper in the back of his throat.

And there’s Jay, lying on his chest, all soft and sweet, with a post-sex grin. He’s too beautiful to be real.

“Jay?” He croaks.

“Yeah,” all soft and sweet.

Until he tilts his head, and the horrific smile below his chin leaks rich red down his throat.

“J-Jay?!” His eyes go wide and horrified because there’s his vigilante boyfriend bleeding out all over his chest, far gone enough to be silly and loopy with blood loss.

“S’okay, yeah? When s’time, s’time. Don’t gotta be sad about it, Timmy.”

“N-No, no, put-Jay, listen to me, put pressure on it, okay? Put both hands and press down. You-you’re loosing too much blood. I need you to–“

“That ain’t what’s happening here, Timmers.” Slurry and low, Jay’s face getting pale, eyes fluttering. “Like I tol’ ya b’fore. One day…one day I ain’t gonna come back. S’ just gonna be my time.”

And Tim’s shirt is wet with it, Jay’s blood staining him, soaking through his clothes, the weight of his big body heavier as his strength goes, as his eyes get dimmer, the jade flecks all but gone.

“You can’t. Jay, babe, you can’t. You have to fight. Please fight,” his hands are straining, but he’s so tired, weak, isn’t strong enough to get to them, to save them from their fates. "I don't... I can't be the last one left standing again. I can't. Please, fight. Please!"

'"Nah, Baby. Small right now. Love ya. Love ya s'much."

"I love you too," he sobs, can't breathe, can't think.

(He’s never been strong enough, has he? He’s not strong enough to be what they need.)

He finally can’t fight anymore, just stays pinned under Jay’s weakening body to cry and shake apart.

**

“Do something,” Dick yells, tears running down his face where he’s pinning Tim’s legs down so he stops hurting himself fighting the restraints.

Alfred, eyes narrow and wet-looking, huffs and turns on his heel abruptly. He fishes out supplies from the cabinet, uses a clean hypodermic to puncture the sedative.

Master Jason is staring up at Master Tim’s face, trying to be that boy in the Robin cape from all those years ago. Trying to be strong in the face of such horrors.

“Master Bruce, account for general anesthesia,” Alfred calls briskly and injects carefully into the IV.

“Understood,” the quickly working vigilante calls back from the lab, running the number a second time, darting looks at his children doing one of the hardest jobs he’s ever asked them to do.

He can tell by how Damian’s shoulders are shaking, Dick is opening crying against Tim’s hip, Jay’s lower lip trembling, eyes wet where he’s keeping Tim’s forearms pinned around the IV in his arm.

He add the variables, taking deep breaths, makes mental notes all over the place to look into Tim’s past foster parents.

Johnson. Right.

And the hardened bat can’t say his heart isn’t thundering in his throat watching Tim’s struggle, scream, cry out in grief, trying to use his reasoning and logic, having the fucking Joker of all people as part of his perpetual nightmares…

Bruce takes a calming breath, forces himself to be the Bat while he aches for the kids.

**

Twelve hours later, he comes to somewhere not his Penthouse or Dick’s apartment.

It’s chilly wherever he is, but for some reason his whole body just aches, hurts like he’d been in another damn car wreck or something. It’s too much effort to lift his head and look around, not when he’s pretty sure he’s in Dick’s lap, recognizes the smell of Dick’s jugular.

He hums a little, glad someone at least gave him a blanket because he’s at least mostly warm. His nose is pretty cold, but he just snuggles into Dick’s neck and sighs.

He tries to raise his knees to fold in, get warmer, but his heels bump into legs, and cracking his eyes open, he realizes Jay is sitting by Dick on the floor of the Cave, Tim laying over their laps.

He’s got a cotton ball taped to the inside of his forearm, and no idea why. He blinks a few times, lifts up enough to see Dami on Jay’s other side, head nudged against Jay’s shoulder. A hand is still on Tim’s ankle.

The sudden need to go to the bathroom drives him from their huddle on the cold floor, but at least he spreads the blanket out over them after he manages to pull out of their arms without waking them.

From their faces and expressions, whatever he isn’t immediately remembering couldn’t have been good.

But first, bathroom. Then, maybe coffee? Because that? Would be absolutely stellar at this juncture. Maybe some ibuprofen.

Luckily, there’s swanky digs in the Bat Cave, a set of lockers, showers, nice hot tub for long soaks after a night of kicking bad guy ass.

All the vigilante amenities.

He’s bleary and sore, staggering to the bathroom, noting B is asleep on the big computer, and Alfred sitting back in another chair, tea cup and saucer on the hard drive next to him.

He smiles a little, wonders if he can find a few more blankets somewhere.

A glance in the mirror as he was washing his hands shows him a bunch of road rash city. Man, he must have been caught up in the middle of something again.  

Seriously.

He splashes cold water on his face, works out the low throbbing ache of his bandaged wrists.

He’s shuffling back, thinking about just waking everyone the hell up to send people to bed, like themselves because his ass is numb, and there’s warm beds upstairs. When there’s pounding footsteps, skitters, and slides, whoosh of air, and Dick is right there up in his face, panting like he’d just sprinted all the way across the Cave in a quick hurry.

“Timmy?!”

He blinks up, still bleary about everything, his throat and voice wrecked as fuck, “hey honey. How was your night fighting shitty bad guys?”

He has no idea why Dick’s expression crumples, his eyes getting teary out of nowhere. He’s not prepared for Dick to start crying, to see his beautiful boyfriend hold a hand over his eyes and break down.

“Dick? Dick?”

He goes from holding himself, shuddering with the cold and ache in his bones, to up in Dick’s face, hand on his shoulder, looking for some injury, something to tell him how to help–

But Dick takes a few shuddering breaths under his hand, and Tim just wriggles his arms around Dick’s chest to hold on for a few long seconds before he gets full-on octopus hold right around his everything.

(Okay, that’s a relief.)

“…was it bad?” He asks softly, making circles with his palms as wide as Dick’s hold will let him.

“Y-Yes. It was bad. You don’t remember?” Dick sniffles against the side of his head, rocking them both gently.

“Not yet.” He shrugs an unconcerned shoulder. As someone who’s had a concussion (okay, okay, concussions), and has worked in the medical field in one of the most dangerous cities on the fucking planet, he knows there are plenty of bad guys with chemical weapons that don’t always leave short term memories in tact.

Dick shakes a little and holds him tighter.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Didja find 'im??!” As Jay rounds the corner and almost slams right into them.

He skids to a stop as Dick swiftly shifts them around out of the way. Jay doesn’t do anything to dislodge Dick’s grip, but palms the sides of Tim’s face, his eyes a hard, icy blue.

“Hey, Sweets, hey,” low in a dark way, not the usual, fun dark way. Tim has a strike of fear, takes stock of himself, of Dick, of Jay, wonders who else in the Cave might be hurt! That’s why they’re here. Someone got hurt coming after his ass, didn’t they?

“Dami? B?” He interrupts, eyes going from Jay to Dick and back.

“Fine, everyone’s fine,” is curt, short with him in a way that doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t have enough evidence.

“O-kay. You both are fine. B and Dami are fine. Alfred?”

Over his head, his boyfriends exchange a look that is really starting to worry him.

But the next twelve hours are virtually impossible to escape. The sordid details come out once Tim remembers being in that convenience store. He gets snatches of half-lucid memories, probably never will remember the entire things. The brain is the most fascinating part of the body for a reason, not only as the control center, but also as the decision-maker on what things to blot out to protect itself. 

By the time Dami starts out, they’ve migrated up to Wayne Manor, parted ways to shower and wash off the night. Dick and Jay bracketing him in, being absurdly gentle, consistent soft touches, fingers wrapping around his, hands on his back, kisses pressed into his hair.

There’s some scrapes on his forearms along with the ones on his face, washed gingerly in the shower where he finally feels warm again. Alfred leaves a special bled of his healing goop and has set out pajamas for all of them before he left, requesting them to please come have breakfast.

Tim’s stomach rumbles while they’re getting dressed, and he’s pretty much picked up, and carried down the massive staircase.

(Ugh, this is after the bridge fiasco all over again.)

But the end result: food and coffee in Wayne Manor, so bonus?

Dami is looking at him like a kicked puppy. A perpetual pissed off kicked puppy, but he tilts his head to the side inquiringly, raising his eyebrows in invitation.

“I found you almost at Sheldon Park,” Dami starts softly, but at least everyone’s eaten first.

He flinches a little when Bruce tells him what he’d said about his Dad. When Alfred tells him about the Joker and Harley Quinn either going to inject him with some crazy sauce or lobotomize him.

(Yup. Pretty horrifying either way.)

Dami tells him about seeing everyone die around him while Dick has a firm hand on his knee under the table, their chairs closer together than necessary. Jason gives no shits keeping his fingers wrapped up tight, squeezing occasionally. Alfred keeps the mug in his free hand full, stands just by Dick’s other shoulder.

“I mean,” he finally starts after everything is out in the open, “it’s literally a toxin that fucks with your brain chemistry. Not shocking I’d see pretty awful things. I see awful things...a lot, so,” he shrugs a little helplessly in the face of the whole family looking utter raw and split open. “I...I’m...sorry, really sorry I worried everyone. I’ll try to stop getting into trouble so much, you know? But, um. It is Gotham.”

The family crowds around him, bringing in rank around the table. 

And if he doesn’t have to stay at the Manor for the next week, geeze, and get coddled as fuck by the Batfamily, and get picked up from Mercy General every. single. night. for a while, and get wrapped up against two incredible vigilantes that whisper soft things against his throat, his ear, his mouth, his, well, his everything. 

If he doesn’t get Bruce herding him into the study where the fire is burning, and it seems like the Batman is the most patient person ever to let him–let him talk about some of those old pains when he was in the system. 

If Alfred literally can not make him eat enough food to be satisfied. Ever. And gives him a side-eye when he starts to push away a plate that has even a bite left.

(Alfred pizza is god-level, and you’ll never convince him otherwise. But if he eats anymore, he’s going to die. Please stop killing him with your tasty love.)

If Dami doesn’t make him watch NatGeo Wild with popcorn and boxes of candy, then grudgingly plays Mario Kart with him until Rainbow Road is like theirs. No questions asked.

If he finally doesn’t go back to his penthouse, breathes in the familiar smells, gets absolutely destroyed in the Best. Possible. Ways for the next five straight hours. If he isn’t a boneless pile of I can’t possibly come again, for the next week at least. 

If Baby Bird, Timmers, Sweets, Timmy, and Baby aren’t wrapped around him with arms and sweet kisses pressed to his forehead and hair every time he leaves for work or they leave for patrol.

If he was before this, in the slightest bit uncertain he belongs with them, as part of their family–

–he sure as hell knows better now.

At least that’s one less thing to be afraid of.

**

Note:

In Tim’s fear fueled delusion, the Joker is Alfred, Harley is Dami holding equipment to treat him. His dad was really B taking the blood samples from Alfred to analyze. He’s horrified once he realizes what Tim is seeing.

Mr. Johnson, the abusive foster parent is Jay, which Tim kind of associates because of the accent.

Dying Nightwing is Dick bent over to hold his legs down, and the next switch is really Jay laying over him upper body to keep him from hurting himself more.

(Congrats for making it to the end. *Hands tissue*)

[s-and-n-writes]

you are my north

a/n: hey guys! here's the soulmate fic i've been working on for a while. it's an outline-style because i didn't want to write out the whole thing. enjoy! -s ps. i can't write summaries to save my life. pps. this fic is rated teen only because of two curse words, and while there is some major character death, i didn't mark it in the warnings because it's temporary.

quick links: | crossover masterlist | 

People get many types of soulmate bonds

Some are romantic and some are platonic

Platonic can be friends, family, found-family, etc

Bonds can include marks, writing on arms, switching bodies, etc

Everyone has a soulbond but some aren’t visible or obvious

Marinette grew up in Gotham named Marianne

She didn’t have a visual bond so hers would manifest when she met her soulmate

Her parents were killed when their house burned down (she was 5)

She was sent to an orphanage and ran away after a few months (she was still 5)

Lived on the streets for a year until she met Jason Todd (she was 6 and he was 10)

They met when two older boys tried to steal Marianne’s money since she was small

Jason beat them up and gave her his hand to lift her up

When their hands met there was a flash of light

Marianne - My mama told me about this. She said it was a soulmate bond and the person it was with was really really really special to me.

They both have a compass on their palms pointing to where the other is

They go off together and live together on the streets

She calls him “Jay-Jay” and he calls her “Pixie” or “Mari”

2 years later (Marianne is 8 and Jason is 12)

Jason goes out and finds the Batmobile and proceeds to get adopted

He refuses and wants to find Marianne

Jason - Let me go old man!

Batman - No. You’re coming with me.

Jason - I need to find my sister!

Batman - Fine. Find her and you both will come with me.

Both go in search of Marianne

Earlier Marianne woke up and found Jason missing so she went out to search

She couldn’t find him and was upset and was sloppy

A Parisian couple found her and adopted her

The people at the GCPD were like ????? because who adopts a Gotham street kid?

Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng apparently

So Marianne is taken to Paris while Jason and Batman are looking for her

They can’t find her and Jason goes with Batman and gets adopted and everything

Jason believes she must have been taken out of Gotham because his compass points towards the harbor and towards the water

Eventually gives up because he won’t be able to find her since across the ocean is a massive place

Gotham proceeds as normal

In Paris...

Marianne is refusing everything because she didn’t want to leave and she misses her brother

Tom and Sabine didn’t want two children so they didn’t bother looking for her brother

They rename her Marinette

She goes to school and makes friends with two boys named Nino and Kim and is enemies with Chloe, the mayor’s daughter

Reluctantly starts calling Tom and Sabine ‘Maman’ and ‘Papa’ because it would look weird if she didn’t and she didn’t want to talk about her past

They treat her nicely but she still misses her old parents

Marinette makes more and more friends but they don’t know about her past or her brother

When she’s 11 she sees on the news that Jason Todd-Wayne died

She’s really sad because her brother and soulmate died but also insanely confused because he somehow got adopted by Bruce Wayne???

Back to his death

Her compass stays but her compass needle disappears

She withdraws and doesn’t go to school for a week

She asked everyone not to give her any nicknames (not that she had any in the first place)

Nobody knows she had a brother except Tom and Sabine but even they don’t know his name

Everyone is told one of her family members died and her parents try to console her but eventually give up

Continuing on and time skips

Her parents start leaving her alone more as she got older

It helped when she became Ladybug

Marinette also slightly resents them for forcefully adopting her and then kind of neglecting her but let’s not get into that

Becomes friends with Alya and starts crushing on Adrien

Alya posts everything and is very intrusive

Marinette is constantly questioned about her soulbond but always refuses to answer

Did I mention that she always wears gloves ever since Jason died?

Because she does

She doesn’t want to see the compass and be reminded of him

Anyways, Alya keeps trying but is always refused

She calls Marinette ‘Mari’ one day and she just…snaps

Marinette goes on this big rant about personal information and privacy and respecting boundaries and ends up screaming at her and curls in a ball crying

Alya leaves and stops being friends with her because Marinette is ‘mean’ and ‘sensitive’

They occasionally talk but they’re not really friends anymore

Very soon after, Lila comes and that's why Alya turned on Marinette so quick

Adrien tells her to “take the high road” and her crush on him dies

Marinette becomes even more miserable because everyone has left her and she is alone

Luka and Kagami aren’t her close friends here

And Chloe is not in her class anymore

Tikki is her only friend until Master Fu gives her guardianship and she is in charge of her kwamis

She is incredibly stressed because of Ladybug, Guardian duties, bakery shifts, and school

Tikki gives her the idea to get rid of bakery duties and not focus on Guardian stuff and instead do a hobby

She tells her ‘parents’ that she’s too busy with school to work at the bakery

They roll their eyes and ignore her again and sometimes she thinks they only adopted her to get her to work for them for free

There isn’t too much to do for Guardian stuff anyways

She designs more and more as a hobby and ends up opening a commission website (that’s completely anonymous so Lie-la and her cronies can’t do anything to it)

It’s more work but it relaxes her and is great for making money

Her pseudonym ‘MAT’ is famous because of Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale constantly mentioning her

MAT stands for both Marinette And Tikki, and MariAnne Todd

Eventually she gets a request from the Waynes

Marinette just cried because this was her brothers family and takes the request

She makes everything extra personalized and charges a bit less and writes a note to them

The note says something about how she knew Jason before he died and he was like a brother to her and she misses him so much and she can’t imagine what they’re going through

By this time she’s 16 and Jason would have been 20 and he is currently being Red Hood (not that she knows that)

Stuff happens, Hawkmoth is defeated, and she takes the ring away from Chat Noir because he’s an asshole who can’t take no for an answer

It’s Adrien Agreste...thank god she didn’t have a crush on him anymore

Time passes, and Marinette is now 18

She has moved out of the bakery and into her own apartment

She’s still in school but it’s her last year

She is now insanely famous and her identity is the best kept secret in the world

She is completely alone except for the Kwamis

So Marinette had entered a contest sponsored by Wayne Industries and won

The prize is a trip to Gotham for the entire class...fuck

If Marinette had known she probably wouldn’t have entered

Why would she go back to the place where her brother died?

She has to go though because she is the contest winner

Lila took credit for it and is spinning lies about how she’s so close to the Waynes and is dating Timothy Drake

So now onto a plot twist yay

On the morning of the trip Marinette is getting ready

She hasn’t looked at her hands in forever because she doesn’t want to be reminded about Jason

Keep in mind that she wears gloves constantly

That morning she looks at them because she wants to prepare for being in Gotham again and memories sake and things

Marinette is shocked when the compass needle is back and pointing in a direction

She doesn’t know what happened since as far as she knows people can’t come back to life and her needle was definitely gone before

So after interrogating Tikki and Plagg for a while she finds out that yes, there are ways to bring someone back to life and some aren’t very good for you *cough* Lazarus Pit *cough*

On the plane ride she is thinking and being both excited and scared/worried

Excited because Jason’s alive!

Scared/worried because some ways of bringing back the dead don’t work very well…

The plane lands and they get out of the airport with no big issues

Except for Lie-la hiding her luggage and getting the class to leave without her

So now Marinette has to walk across Gotham at night, alone, while carrying heavy luggage and looking like a tiny, weak, foreigner

She is practically begging to get mugged but what can you do?

Around halfway to the hotel she hears footsteps behind her

Before she can do anything, Red Hood jumps down from a roof and takes them down

He ties them up and calls the police

Marinette thinks he is familiar but ignores the feeling and goes on her way

Red Hood (Jason) also thinks she is familiar but also ignores it

Now is the time for normal Maribat field trip tropes and ideas

Nothing big happens to advance the plot

The last week of their trip is at Gotham Academy and then they go to the Wayne Gala

Again, normal first day at GA tropes until there’s a Rogue attack

For plot reasons (can’t reveal the akuma situation, Ladybug can’t be in Gotham, she has nowhere good to transform, etc), Marinette hides in a storage closet

She rubs her compass-palm to calm herself and looks at it

The needle is moving as if her soulmate was walking towards her (or the closet where she’s hidden)

But that’s not possible because Jason should be 22 and definitely shouldn’t be in a school right?

Marinette is freaking out and then the needle is pointing directly in front of her

And then the doorknob turns and the door opens and she sees…

DUN DUN DUN

Red Hood!

Marinette is kind of shocked but shrugs it off for a minute

Red Hood tells her the attack is over and she can come out

He helps her up but when their hands touch there’s a flash of light

Marinette - Jay-Jay?

Jason - Pixie?

Then there’s a very heartwarming reunion that I’m too angsty to write properly

Marinette starts going by Marianne again and meets the Bats

They love her immediately (and more when they realize that she is MAT who personalized their commissions and wrote that note long ago)

Lie-la’s lies get taken down

At the Wayne Gala she is announced to be Jason Todd-Wayne’s platonic soulmate, Marianne Todd

They live happily ever after

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for any of the maribat drabbles we post, shoot us a message and we’ll tag you!

[thishintoflove]

"Bad Blood" - A Bloodsucking Bastards Fanfic

TSwift Songfic Week Day 7 (we made it, ya’ll!)

Pairing: Max Phillips x F!Reader

Warnings: Mature but not explicit (still 18+ though please). Language, Non-descriptive mentions of sex, Blood drinking, Non-consensual vampirism

Warnings: You and Max were in a happy, established relationship until one night he accidentally goes too far... and you wake up as a vampire.

A/N: I actually had a lot of fun writing for Max, I hope he’s in-character enough! As a current MBA student, I’ve definitely experienced guys with his same “business bro” vibe.

You were going to be angry at him for the rest of eternity.

How many times did you tell him that you weren’t ready to be turned yet? It felt like a million times. You needed more time, you wanted to think about it more, it was a big decision…

And then he messed up. He made a mistake. It was an “accident”.

That didn’t mean you weren’t still pissed at him.

Did you think we'd be fine?

Still got scars on my back from your knife

So don't think it's in the past

These kind of wounds they last and they last

The night of “the incident” started like any other. You and Max have been dating for a couple of months at this point and you’ve established a regular nighttime routine. He’d come over after work, he’d watch you and distract you with kisses as you made dinner for yourself, you’d settle down together on the couch for a show or movie, and then he’d fuck your brains out until midnight.

It was a good routine and it worked well for you both. You didn’t mind that your boyfriend was a vampire, which meant you could never actually share a meal together. You ate your dinner at a normal hour, and then later in the night, Max would have his. Sometimes he’d leave your bed and go out on a midnight hunt but other nights... you let yourself be the meal. At first you were wary of letting him feed from you, but he promised he’d be gentle and he was. Working it into your sex life was just a bonus. It actually felt good most of the time. The venom stung at first but as soon as it worked its magic, it spread a numbing, calming sensation through your veins. Vampires wanted compliant prey, so you figured it made sense.

Tonight was one of those special nights. Max loved it, obviously. He swore your blood tasted better than any other human he’d tried so far. For your part, you were just pleased to see your boyfriend so giddy. You loved watching his face light up like a kid on Christmas when you responded ‘yes’ after he asked permission.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he muttered, sucking your lower lip between his teeth as he kissed you. You moaned into his mouth and shifted your hips against his pelvis as you writhed beneath him on the bed. He had one leg between your thighs and your arms were wrapped around his shoulders and back, desperate for as much friction as possible.

“You feel so good,” you hummed, wanting to feel him everywhere. He pulled back a little and grinned down at you,

“Not as good as you, baby,” he replied. He trailed kisses along your jaw before moving down to your neck. You gasped and gripped the hair at the back of his head as he zeroed in on a particular spot. He devoted his entire focus to this new area- kissing and licking it until your entire body was covered in goosebumps.

His lips closed around the spot he was nuzzling and suddenly his teeth were sinking in. His tongue prodded at the raw spot as his teeth sunk beneath your skin, pulling a soft whimper out of you. The way he attacked the wound made you wince, all of his slowness and caution gone. The effect his feeding had on you was unsurprisingly intense-- one moment you couldn’t catch your breath, the next your breath came too fast.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip but that did nothing to stifle your gasp as his hand slid to your thigh as he fed. The sound seemed to encourage him. All he did was suck-- suck the whole area dry of any moisture, and that suction was so hard it hurt but your body went flush with warmth and pleasure just the same. You always felt a little ashamed after, a little bit twisted and guilty when you recalled your enjoyment of this process.

Suddenly you felt more lightheaded then usual, and one of the last lingering threads of your rationality screamed at you to stop this. Max didn’t typically feed for this long- usually it was a couple of swallows and then he pulled back… but he wasn’t stopping this time.

“Max,” you gasped, knowing you couldn’t take much more-- you could feel your limbs going dangerously numb. “Max...stop...”

Your calls were soft, more pleading than insistent, and they didn’t seem to reach Max. He growled, the possessive sound echoing through your body. You could sense a wave of darkness crashing over your consciousness, and you realized that you were going to die. You were too weak to do anything, but you let out a sigh as the darkness took you. At least if you had to die now, you could say you died in the arms of someone who loved you.

***

But you didn’t die. Not really.

When you came back to yourself, Max was still there-- sitting as still as a stone statue at the end of the bed, watching you closely with wide, worried eyes.

You felt different. Everything seemed loud and bright, as if all your senses were supercharged. And your body… it felt… still. As if everything inside of you had just stopped, but your mind was still active. You finally realized what happened: you were dead. Or more accurately, you’d died and now you were a fucking vampire. A look of horror must have crossed your face because Max quickly reached for your hands and pleaded,

“I’m so sorry, love, please…. I didn’t mean to, you have to believe me-”

“Get. Out.”

Your voice was raw and strained. You couldn’t believe it. How could you have let this happen? How could he have let this happen? Max promised he’d always remain in control with you, but he didn’t. He couldn’t control himself and now you were a monster. Just like him.

“I never meant for it to go this far, but at least I stopped myself before you went dry!” Max babbled, desperately trying to meet your eyes but you remained frozen in place, staring at the wall. “You’re not dead, you’re just… like me now. That’s not so bad-”

“I said, get out, Max!” you yelled, ripping your hands away and standing from the bed. You crossed your arms across your chest, trying not to cry when you realized you couldn’t feel your own heartbeat. Then you realized you couldn’t cry either.

Max didn’t move to touch you again but you heard him stand from the bed- your new senses giving you a clear image in your mind of what he was doing even though your back was turned. “Baby, please listen-”

“Don’t make me say it again. You’ve done enough. Now leave me alone.”

He sighed, but he didn’t argue anymore. You remained frozen in place as he gathered his things and left your apartment. You didn’t move until you heard his car driving away down the street.

And when you did move, finally, you went hunting. Because the only thing you could focus on, besides your intense anger at Max, was your extreme desire for human blood.

Now we got problems

And I don't think we can solve them

You made a really deep cut

And baby now we got bad blood

You took two weeks paid vacation after Max turned you. Getting the time-off approved was easy since your boss was also your guilty (potentially ex) boyfriend.

When you did come back to the office, the other vampire employees welcomed you with open arms. You felt a little more like your old self as you jumped back into your regular work routine, but on your second day back Max called you into his office for a private meeting. You’d been avoiding him for two weeks- ignoring his texts, calls, and emails- and you braced yourself for the awkwardness of having your first conversation happen at the office.

“Glad to have you back,” he said, standing up behind his desk and gesturing for you to sit down.

You frowned at his casual tone. “Yeah. Well. Even vampires have to pay the bills, right?”

You thought you noticed his perfect grin falter for a moment before he quickly shook it off with a chuckle.

“That is so true. I’m glad to see you getting back into the swing of things.”

You merely hummed in response, eyeing him warily as he slowly circled his desk and came to stand right in front of you. His business smile slowly melted into a sultry smirk as he leaned forward towards you,

“So… is it safe to assume that you’re here because you’re ready to pick up where we left off?”

“Oh Max, I know you’re not that stupid,” you grumbled, glaring at him as he reached out to card his fingers through your hair.

“What do you mean?”

You responded by grabbing his hand and easily flipping him over your shoulder using all your new vampire strength, so that he landed hard on the ground behind your chair.

“You’re not forgiven. I’m still mad at you,” you growled, turning to look at him on the floor. He wasn’t actually injured, obviously, but he looked hurt and confused.

“Baby pleeeease, I miss you!” he whined, giving you a pouty face that you used to find adorable before he’d accidentally turned you into a damn vampire without your consent.

“Stop it. I told you I need more time.”

“Fine.” he pouted, standing up and smoothing out the wrinkles in his dress shirt. “I can wait. You’ll forgive me eventually.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“You will. You’ll realize that this is actually a gift. And I know I shouldn’t have done it so soon, but I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You stood up from the chair and shook your head as you prepared to leave his office.

“Whatever you say, Max…”

Now did you think it all through?

All these things will catch up to you

And time can heal but this won't

So if you come in my way, just don't

“I have a surprise for you!”

Max’s sing-song voice interrupted your peaceful lunch break. As a vampire, you obviously had no need for human food, but you still preferred to take a break at lunch time. You were currently alone in the break room, reading a magazine and enjoying the silence. You frowned at Max as he waltzed into the room.

“No need to frown, baby! I brought you a treat.”

He was grinning and holding something behind his back. You carefully shook your head and lay down your magazine. “I’m not your baby anymore, Max.”

“Not right now maybe, but you’ll take me back after you see what I’ve brought you!”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” you replied with a roll of your eyes, “What is it?”

Max pulled the object from behind his back and held it out to you. You tilted your head, trying to figure out what it was, before you realized it was a blood bag. A hospital grade, completely filled, blood bag.

“I know you don’t like the idea of ‘getting messy’ during work hours-”

“You mean I don’t like committing murder and sucking people dry during work hours? Yes, you’re correct,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes again.

“Well… I found a solution for you. Easy, portable, delicious blood on-the-go!”

You frowned in disapproval. “You can’t just steal blood from donation centers!” you told him incredulously, not caring when his face fell at your disappointed tone, “Where did you even get this? The Red Cross? The hospital? There are people who really need this stuff!”

“Who cares?” Max replied, looking genuinely confused, “They’re all going to die at some point anyway.”

You shook your head, “This is why I wasn’t ready to be turned. You’ve lost your humanity and I’m not ready to jump onboard the ‘fuck the whole human race’ train yet. I know you thought you were being sweet, but this is wrong.”

“Oh. Well if you don’t want it…”

A growl rose in your throat as those words left his lips. As much as you disagreed with his methods, your new vampire instincts were screaming at you to snatch the blood bag from his hands and gulp it down until you were finally satisfied. The scent of the blood called to you, sang to you in the sweetest tone, and it was taking everything you had not to completely lose it right now.

“No, I’ll take it,” you said a little too quickly, reaching for the bag, “Just don’t do it again.”

Max smirked as he handed the blood bag over.

“That’s what I thought. I remember what it’s like to be a new vampire”, he said quietly, stepping closer to you, “how hungry you are before you’re able to improve your tolerance and time between feedings… I’m just trying to help you.”

He leaned forward and placed a small kiss on the top of your head, but you snarled and pushed him back. He merely chuckled as he watched you rip open the blood bag and begin to suck it down.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured. He backed away and casually leaned against the door frame. If you were thinking straight, you’d feel annoyed and even embarrassed to have him watch you sink into a feeding frenzy but your human mind was long gone. So you sucked every drop of blood from the bag as he stared in admiration.

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times

You and I

'Cause baby now we got bad blood

As much as you were still angry at Max, you really did miss him.

Things were going really well in your relationship before he made the fatal mistake. You had a lot in common. You were both focused on succeeding at work, you both hated whining and incompetence, and you shared a similar sense of humor. But you weren’t sure how you were supposed to forgive such a major breach of trust.

Rationally you knew it was a mistake and that you’d agreed to him feeding from you in the first place, and accidents happen… but the irrational side of you wanted to stay mad at him. It was easier to have someone to blame. It let you off the hook as you tried to grapple with your new reality and decide if it was something you really did want. Being a vampire really wasn’t that bad, once you got used to it...

“You heading home soon? It’s past six.”

Speak of the devil…

Max’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you glanced up at him. He was hovering at the edge of your desk, his briefcase in one hand and his jacket over his arm. He gave you a small smile but his eyes were cautious, knowing that you were still mercurial around him.

“Yeah I’m just wrapping things up. I have one more report summary, and then I’ll go.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding, “Keep up the good work then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was letting you go, and something about that made your non-beating heart soften. He was already walking toward the door when you called out,

“Or I could head out now…”

He slowly turned, and you knew him well enough to recognize that he was desperately trying to hide a smirk.

“Great, I’ll hold the elevator for you.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag. You weren’t going to let him off the hook just yet, but you knew you’d be able to forgive him someday. After all, you had all of eternity.