#this ended up being quite a lot more than handful

[alchemistc]

He's been good. He's been - pretending to be good well enough that no one has been suspicious.

It's just -

That was it. That was The One.

And sure. He can get back out into the world. He can fall in love again. There is a beautiful man somewhere out in the world who will make him laugh, make him cry.

He's just not sure he wants to put the effort in anymore.

For a hot second he'd really thought -

Not that it matters, anymore.

He's pretty sure his leg is pinned. The cockpit is more smoke than air, at this point. He can feel his toes, but honestly that might be more a curse than a blessing.

He's been staring at the phone in his hand for the last five minutes. Ever since he realized he didn't have the leverage to try to move the bracket keeping him from slipping free of the broken, crunched in door frame.

It's selfish. It's the most selfish fucking thing he's considered since he decided to break his own heart instead of letting someone else.

But logistically he's got about seven minutes until there's too much smoke and not enough air in here, and that's only IF the fire doesn't catch somewhere else.

He's got enough bars. And there are two numbers he could call. Two ways this could go.

The phone rings through four times, and on the fifth, someone answers.

"This is a bad time, Tommy," Eddie says, and Tommy feels a little hysterical. The laughter comes in fits, only slows when he gets a nice good whiff of smoke straight up his nose.

"Sure is."

The tone shifts. "Are you okay?"

"It was a bad idea anyway."

He feels woozy. Glances down at his leg and realizes that stain he'd thought was shadow is... definitely blood.

"Listen. I'm - when Evan gets the call, don't let him go alone. It's my fault for not updating my ICE."

The silence on the other line is deafening. "Tommy, where are you? Don't - don't make any decisions you can't come back from." It's a panned line he'd heard at the VA the half dozen times he'd gone.

"Yeah I didn't really make this decision myself. I'm just - I'm losing a lot of blood, here, and there's not a lot of ways for the smoke to get out of this cabin, and -."

High alert has a very specific sound and feel to it.

Eddie's cursing, something is shuffling, he's snapping his fingers in the distance. God, they're probably at work. "Where are you?"

Tommy rattles off his last known coordinates. "I already told dispatch, Eddie. I'm just. They're not gonna make it in time, and I need you to promise me you won't let him be alone when -."

It'd been a trip he would have been riding shotgun for, if Tommy hadn't made sure he wasn't. He's grateful for that, at least.

He's really not expecting much, he thinks. Eddie doesn't have to go far out of his way to support Buck. It'll hurt him, true. But Tommy's gotten pretty used to being the cause of that. And. He'll be dead, anyway, so he won't have to carry that guilt for long.

And then Eddie betrays whatever vestige of friendship they had left, because it's not Eddie's voice that responds.

"Hey asshole. Do you have enough leverage to break the window?"

He's got a good voice. A little gruff, a little heavy.

Tommy doesn't want this.

"No."

"Actually no, or are you just accepting your fate again without even talking about alternatives."

It's not how he thought he'd go. Dramatic final hour phone call, the end of their relationship as a metaphor for the bleakness of his situation. "I'm sorry, Buck."

He's having trouble focusing his eyes. There's a beat behind his ears that keeps slowing down. He thinks he might be hearing sirens but -

"Evan," Tommy says for the first time in six months. "I'm so sorry, Evan."

He says - something. The tone of it is there, even if he can't quite make out the words.

Tommy blinks. Coughs.

There's a phone in his hands.

Why is there a phone in his hands, he's supposed to be flying a -

He'd crashed it, actually.

Well shit.

Damn.

Eddie's gonna be so pissed if he has to find out second hand that Buck's going to get a really fucking shitty call in a few hours.

He should call.

---

When he blinks open his eyes, he finds his fingers first, nearly has a panic attack when they don't move they way he wants them to, except - oh.

There are fingers interlocked with his.

Tommy follows the line of the arm, even though he knows.

"Sorry," Evan says, and there are tears unshed at the corners of his eyes but he looks mad as hell. "You only get one dramatic exit out of my life in a calendar year."

[fastandcarlos]

The House Of Piastri : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: the one where you and oscar move into a place that you can finally call your own

“Welcome to the house of Piastri!” Oscar chimed, turning the key and opening up the place that was finally yours. “Our very first home,” Oscar grinned, throwing his arm across your shoulders, pulling you in. 

It was far from perfect, there were moving boxes everywhere, little decoration, and many of the rooms were uncoordinated, but it was your place. Just for you and Oscar. There was no one else around, nothing to interrupt you both anymore. 

“Where do we begin?” You laughed, pressing your fingers to your temple. “What have we signed ourselves up for?” You asked Oscar, glancing across at him. His smile was wide, a lot more optimistic than you were at the adventure that you had ahead of you. 

When Oscar suggested the two of you think about finding your own place after moving to Monaco, you jumped at the chance. It was a big deal for you both, having only ever lived separately before, but after leaving home in order to support Oscar, you knew you couldn’t be alone. 

“Doesn’t it just feel right though?” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I can already see how amazing it’s going to look, even if it doesn’t look that way right now.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, no doubt that it was a place you’d feel happy calling your home. You and Oscar had so many plans, you’d spent hours awake at night talking through your ideas, searching online for some inspiration of what you’d like. 

“The view is beautiful too,” you hummed, taking a few steps forward across the room to where your balcony was. “I don’t think I’ll tire of looking out here, it’s beautiful.” 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Oscar chimed, watching as your eyes rolled. “What? I’m only being honest; it doesn’t quite compare to you.” 

Oscar took your hand again, leading you across to where the sofa was just beside the balcony. You sat against his side, back pressed against his chest as Oscar rested his head on top of yours. It was about the only piece of furniture that you had built and ready to go, having taken most of the day to get it delivered and set up, but it left you both excited for all the hard work that was to come.  

It felt like a dream as you looked around the apartment, neither you or Oscar could quite believe that you were finally there, after months of planning and waiting around. 

“Imagine how beautiful this is going to be soon,” Oscar whispered into your ear, “I can see us spending forever here, growing old, maybe even raising a family too.” 

Your eyes widened as Oscar spoke, not quite knowing what to say. He felt your body tense up, worried that maybe he’d said the wrong thing, got too ahead of himself in amongst all of the excitement of moving in. 

Oscar mumbled an apology across to you. “I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just a maybe one day kind of thing. I guess I’m just excited for the future now that we’re finally here.” 

It wasn’t that you were scared, but you’d never really heard Oscar talk about your future plans before. You were both so young, and had so much time ahead of you, although you knew most of your time now was going to be spent building, decorating, and trying to get your home look a little more homely.  

“Don’t be sorry,” you smiled up at Oscar, “there’s no need to be sorry. I like that you’re thinking about these sorts of things. Forever is a long time though; we don’t know where the future is going to take us.” 

“I’d live anywhere as long as I had you with me,” Oscar mused, “I’d live in a rubbish bin as long as you were there, even if you would end up smelling a bit.” 

“Moving in has really got you thinking about things, hasn’t it?” 

Oscar nodded, kissing against the top of your head. “I guess moving in with you has made me so happy, I’m just excited now for what’s going to come next.” 

“I’ll give you a clue...a heck of a lot of painting,” you teased. 

It was going to take many hours to get the apartment as you wanted it, but you and Oscar knew that together you’d get it done. You didn’t want the easy option when it came to finding your home, but even this was a harder challenge than either of you could imagine. 

“Think about all the memories that we’re going to make here,” Oscar spoke, “we’ll be able to have friends over, family can stay when they visit, and just stay here together too.” 

It was a big move, not only had you found a new city, but you’d found a new country too. Luckily for you, many of the other drivers who were already out there had been more than willing to help you out, offering their services whenever you needed them. 

“I think once we’re unpacked and decorated, I’ll feel happier, your mum would be mortified if she knew we were living here with the state of this place right now,” you replied. 

“She can’t wait to visit,” Oscar laughed, “I think she might be more excited than us about this.” 

Everyone around you couldn’t wait to see you move in together, you were inseparable at the best of times and it was only a matter of time. Your parents, and Oscar’s, especially had pushed you to move in, desperate to see you in a place you could call your own. 

“It’s going to be crazy, but there’s no one else I’d like to move in with and decorate my first home alongside.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, as terrifying as it was, you were beyond excited too. Your vision was clear, and one thing you were absolutely confident of was the fact that you were absolutely going to love living there, especially with Oscar there too. 

“You know, when all of this is done, we’ll be able to sit here and think about how lucky we are.” 

Your head tilted back to look up at Oscar, “I already feel lucky enough as it is. You’re here, and we’re in Monaco, what could be better than that?” 

“I really do appreciate you moving all the way out here to support me,” Oscar whispered, “not many people would move across the world for their partner. It’s a huge sacrifice to make, I just hope that it’s worthwhile being here for you.” 

“It’s worth it, wherever you go, I go,” you replied, reminding him of the promise that you made to each other. “Anyway, Monaco is definitely the place that feels like home now too.” 

Oscar glanced down with a smile, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you right now. I think I could get used to living here, with you.” 

“I agree, this is beyond anything that I could have ever dreamed of.” 

“It’s not just an apartment anymore, it’s our home,” Oscar said, “a place we can finally call our own.” 

“The house of Piastri, it’s perfect.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[loonyloopylupin96]

Theme: Hagrid’s Hut | @wolfstarmicrofic | Words: 526

Carrying two dead stoats tied to the end of a long stick, Hagrid made his way back up the grassy mound to his hut. The sun was setting now, casting a red haze across the scene.

He paused to observe a familiar figure by the door, with shoulders slumped and head cast downwards, and cleared his throat.

“Remus?” he said roughly, and the figure jumped.

Remus’ pale face shone in the light of the setting sun as he turned around. He seemed relieved to see Hagrid behind him.

“Have you been waiting long?” he asked, unlatching the door.

Remus shook his head, “I don’t think so. I… well, I hadn’t got around to knocking yet. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Looking back at his feet, Remus missed the pitied expression cast his way.

“Yer’ll be wanting a cup of tea then?” Hagrid asked kindly.

“Yes, please.”

They didn’t say much for the first hour of Remus’ visit, and Hagrid began getting on with doing whatever gamekeepers do when shy students are building up the courage to speak to them.

Remus was finishing his second mug when he finally said what was on his mind.

“Why do you like the beasts and monsters, Rubeus?” he asked quietly.

Hagrid turned to the young boy and his hopeful, sorrowful expression.

“Well,” he started, “Who’s ter say they’re monsters? That’s just Ministry rubbish. I judge em on t’merit of ‘ow they’re behavin’. Nuffin’ more ‘n’ nowt less.”

Remus looked unconvinced.

“Yer’ve bin comin’ ‘ere a lot recently - I’m not complaining ‘cause yer helpful to ‘av ‘round ‘n’ heaven knows ye can use t’ food ye get-“ his words were punctuated by him handing over a plate containing a rather generous serving of fruit cake, “But what’s on yer mind? Bein' a werewolf don’t make ye a monster, Lupin. I told ye, it’s ministry rubbish. Yer no more a monster than Aragog-“

Remus’ head shot up. He wasn’t sure whether to be concerned because Hagrid was being quite so blasé about his condition, or insulted at being compared to a giant arachnid.

“-or Dumbledore hi'self.”

His breathe came back evenly.

“I just thought,” Remus started, “You wouldn’t mind me being here. You don’t care what creature walks through your door…” he trailed off, shrugging.

“I’m sure Black doesn’t either.” He laughed at the pink expression on Remus’ cheeks.

“They don’t know what I am,” Remus added in a low voice, a pained expression returning to cloud his features.

Hagrid shrugged. “Yer jus’ you. What more’s there t’ know?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Meanwhile, in Gryffindor tower:

“Padfoot, you have all the subtlety of the giant squid tap dancing on the Quidditch pitch. He’s going to know we’re up to something!”

“He already knows we’re up to something. He hides at Hagrid’s every time you suddenly change a conversation. What if he thinks we hate him?”

“With that dopey expression you were giving him at breakfast? Pull the other one. Anyway, give it a week and he’ll know we don’t.” James turned to his left, “Peter, you’re starting to grow a tail so it’s obviously working. You’ve got this! Come on, let’s go again.”

[makeucrawl]

can u do a short where Dr. Easterman punishes coyle for messing and breaking his office? Pls nsfw pls plsnksjakahks also bdsm and spankings plsss 🙏🙏 (what am I doing with my life. 😭)

((Teehee 🤭))

“BAD DOG”

Nothing could have prepared Easterman for his return to his office. It was usually in perfect shape, but now it looked as if a storm had swept through it. Books and files were strewn around the floor, and when he attempted to pick up some of them, he noticed dirty boot prints on the ground. Prints that he followed all the way behind his desk where the suspect was still lying on the ground, smoking his cigarettes and reading his journal.

"Boy, ya sure do complain a lot!" Coyle laughs, turning his gaze away from the journal to Easterman. Those dark, melancholy eyes were staring right at him. "OOOOooo how scary.." Coyle taunts while throwing the journal aside.

"Why did you ruin my office?" The doctor glares at him while his fists curl and uncurl at the thought of strangling the police officer.

“Why’re you upset? I know ya can just git someone to clean it up."

“God da-..Leland, that isn't the point. I've told you to before to quit tampering with my belongings…Sometimes you behave like a child.” Coyle sticks his tongue out and uses his foot to poke the doctor’s leg. “There ya go. Complainin’ like some woman!” He laughs then shouts in surprise as Easterman grabs his ankle and pulls him forward.

After turning the man over onto his stomach, Easterman ties Coyle's hands behind his back with his tie. "Just what in the hell do ya think yer doin?!” As the police officer shouts, the doctor grabs his dark graying hair and pulls him up. Then, using a firm hold, he drags him over his spread knees and placing him over his lap.

“Since you want to act like a brat..I’m going to beat you like one." Pulling Coyle's jeans down to his thighs, he says. “You’ll refer to me as sir and you’re going to count each blow.”

“Ya gotta be fuckin’ jokin’! Let me up-AH!” When Easterman's palm lands hard and heavy against Coyle's right cheek with a loud clap, causing the man to cry out in surprise.

“Can you count, Sergeant? I can’t hear you.”

“I-I’m not going to-“

SLAP

Coyle grunts his body jolting forward slightly from the blow. He was surprised at how hard the other man could hit.

“T-Two…sir..” Leland said breathlessly. The pain was hot and burning, but there was a pleasure in it too, and when the third blow came down, Coyle groaned,

“Three…three,sir..”

By the tenth, he felt as though his ass was burning red and bright, and there was a burning heat in more than his ass. His stomach felt tight, tight with tension, and his whole body was hot, his cock rubbing up against Hendrick’s thigh whenever his hand landed down

By the twentieth, the pain had on one hand subsided some, and on another was furthering with every strike, the skin burning so much it felt like it would peel, and yet there was such a pleasure in it that Coyle almost felt he could cry. He was digging his nails into his palms now as he whimpered, “T-Twenty-two, sir.”

“I hope you recall that this is a punishment, Leland,” said Easterman, landing a firm blow on the back of his thigh, just under the curve of his left cheek, and Coyle yelped like a kicked dog, gritting his teeth and trying to swallow the sound back.

“Yes! T-twenty-three, sir!”

“Someone might come in if they hear you being so loud.” Purred Easterman pleasantly, and his hand clapped down again, pushing the air out of Leland’s lungs and making his cock jump like a soldier told to stand to attention.

Coyle shuddered. “Twenty-four..s-sir,” he said breathing heavily.

“Good boy, Leland.”

On the thirtieth the cop was breathless and dizzy: by the thirty-fifth he was sobbing between blows, and Dr.Easterman was delivering each of them faster, louder.

When his punishment was at an end and Coyle had called out the final fortieth blow, he lay for a few minutes over Hendrick’s lap, trying not to sob too openly. He could barely move, trembling all over, cock hard and pressed against the doctor’s thigh, although he was far too tired to grind his hips.

Standing was difficult, trying to push himself up without use of his hands was a little awkward. When the cop stumbled, the doctor caught him by the plush, round curve of his hip, and instead of shoving him away, he pulled Coyle back into his lap.

Leland let out a reedy noise, but Easterman gripped him tighter, spreading his legs with his right hand so that Coyle was arranged and accessible. His ass burned in this position, sat in the doctor’s lap, and he stared down at his cock poking out from the thick hair between his legs, shirt stuck to his sweaty body.

Dr.Easterman’s other hand came up, sliding against the side of Coyle’s neck, cupping his jaw. The movement was tender, gentle, and the officer leaned his cheek into it, head spinning.

“..I won’t..I wont do it a-again..” Coyle hiccuped out. “M’ sorry…”

“I know you are, Leland.” said the doctor softly, and pressed his nose against the back of the cop’s neck, inhaling, and his lips brushed against it through the fabric of his shirt as his other hand undoes the binding on Coyle’s wrists.

It then moved to delicately grasp the officer’s throbbing erection, his thumb strummed over his the head as though he were plucking at a cello string. Coyle’s head jerks back as he moaned loudly, his hips pumping upward wanting more friction.

“Good boy,Just like that,” Easterman’s voice was soft and soothing now. He was squeezing harder, pumping faster, and when Coyle came it was a painfully pleasurable thing, made him bite down hard on his lip to keep from crying aloud, and Hendrick rocked him gently through it, hushing him softly.

Leland was breathing heavily, tears still stained on his cheeks, aware of his weight in Easterman’s lap, aware of the doctor’s arms holding him in place, aware of the sweat on his skin and the burn of his ass.

“Clean up my office, Leland.” The doctor mummers in his ear.

“Y-yes sir..”

[uwuyangeppie]

Hello! Do you think you could do headcannons of Gepard being clingy? Since he’s rarely home out busy protecting Belobog how would he react to not seeing his S/O after a long period of time? Thank you!

for this i decided to take the “gepard is still delusional but he managed to date you before they got too out of hand so you remain free to roam outside his house” route.

distance makes the heart grow fonder! however, you think that maybe his heart should grow a little less fond

the moment it’s decided he’s going back to belobog, you are on the brain. and nothing else.

his first priority, even before bronya

yes, other captains would see her before they run off to their partners, but you’re special. so just a quick visit to you first!

two quick kisses turn into ten and you have to remind him about bronya.

he has the AUDACITY to look annoyed

after reporting, he attaches himself to your side. this makes everything very difficult.

cooking, cleaning, chores… he gets in the way through all of it and somehow has the extra time to imagine you as a homemaker…

oh, you have a job? gepard really doesn’t get why you don’t just quit. he makes enough. quit. come on, you don’t need it. you have him. you’d prefer to be spending time with him instead of working, wouldn’t you? don’t be silly, just quit! leave the job, stay with him!

you have this conversation a lot.

it always ends with two things: he mopes around for a day or two and then strong-arms your boss into giving you at least a few days off.

bronya has told him off for abusing his authority like that, so gepard comes back to you and said it wouldn’t have happened if you’d just quit your job.

you’re not quitting your job.

if you sleep in your bed, you’re not anymore! for the entirety of his stay in belobog you are sleeping in his bed, wrapped up tight in his arms. snug as a bug in a rug

he does get less clingy as time goes on, thankfully

if you (or someone else, it’s normally someone else) makes him feel uncomfortable though, and getting away with murder will be tough, then he whips out marriage papers

the first time he tried this (yes, he’s done this multiple times before), you stared at him and asked him, “why do you have these…?”

he didn’t answer that particular question

did push them towards you though and went “sign, sign :)”

you did not. you will not. this conversation has happened less than the job one, thankfully, but it’s still more common than you’d like it to be.

you kiss and wave him off when it’s time for him to leave, but the elation at him finally leaving always makes you feel guilty…

you love him and he’s sweet, but he’s just so suffocating! maybe it’s time to call it quits?

you’ll tell him when he comes back. right now, you’ll just enjoy your freedom.

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 3)

So, fun fact: Without Kei being in in 1-C, she and Shinso are not friends yet in this continuity. It's the small tragedies.

Also, Manual's about to have a very chaotic internship experience.

“Dropping out of the Sports Festival narrowed your options significantly,” Aizawa said. Bundled up in that obnoxious yellow sleeping bag, the clear determination to be cozy and damn the consequences was almost impressive. It just clashed with his stone-cold voice and clear disappointment in Kei’s entire existence. 

“That was the point.” Kei scoffed as she flung herself into the opposite chair. And despite her gripes, Kei could admit that Principal Nezu chose decent furniture. “I could fake a week-long illness.” 

Despite Kei bowing out of the Sports Festival after the cavalry battle, allowing some 1-B student she didn’t know to take her slot, some pro somewhere had seen her “potential.” Mostly the ones who could do basic math and realize her water-controlling power worked basically on the same scale as Todoroki’s Half-Hot, Half-Cold. She had a handful of offers from people like Selkie, which would take her well out of Musutafu and could drill her in proper heroic conduct. 

And to be blunt, Kei wished they didn’t give a shit. Their letters were burning a hole in her desk back home. 

There was a sort of pity system where students who didn’t get any offers were still assigned to pros for the internship experience, but Kei wasn’t a normal student. While Midoriya, who looked like he was going to cry when he saw a whopping zero offers, got something through his connection with All Might, Kei wasn’t holding her breath for anything useful to her cause. Any pro worth their salt needed to keep tabs on their interns. If a teenage hero-wannabe escaped containment and threw a truck across a street without authorization or something, there would be hell to pay. A lot of the hero course students had such destructive Quirks that property damage was on the lower end of potential bad outcomes. 

Honestly, someone like Nezu taking her on as an intern would be the best possible scenario. He’d work out that they were all better off if he let her off the leash for this week. Sort of like a big guardian sheepdog, only her territory comprised at least one city. She could clear her backlog of patrol duties with her teammates instead of learning hero industry paperwork procedures.

Kei’s gaze drifted to Aizawa, who was pointedly still here despite Kei already learning he’d planned on taking the week to work with a kid outside of 1-A. Apparently, he’d met with Shinsō after the Sports Festival and decided the kid was now his protégé. It was much faster to just snap up the General Education’s sole standout than bother with writing letters through an agency. For Kei’s part, she looked at the Quirks written out for Shinsō and that Monoma boy in 1-B and added them to her personal “nope” list. 

Being found out would ruin everything. 

Being found out by children just added embarrassment to the mix in untold quantities. No, she’d rather not deal with that. Adults were more married to their preconceptions and kept letting her get away with things. It was safer to stick to that part of the plan. 

Kei took a long sip of her tea and tried not to think too hard about it. The mere fact of her presence in this office vetoed such a simple solution. 

“Well, we don’t need to go quite so far to ensure your work continues,” Nezu said, placing his paws together on the top of his desk. 

Honestly, if not for the fact that he insisted on wearing suits, he could have been any rodent summon clan’s adjutant. Probably the brains of any operation he wanted, even if the clans’ schemes probably struck him as thinking too small. Certainly he’d have the toad clan wrapped around his toe beans inside of the day. 

Kei blinked away the stray thought. 

“It would raise suspicion if you weren’t involved in the internship experience this week, Gekkō-san,” Nezu went on, pausing to take a ship of his own tea. His fur fluffed in enjoyment. “But, in the interest of furthering your goals and ours, there is a task that might suit your skills while also fitting that requirement. I hope you’re interested.” 

“Well, I’ll listen,” Kei said. 

“Good enough! Now, you’ve heard about the Hero Killer operating in multiple Japanese cities by now, yes?” When Kei nodded, Nezu continued, “While your friends’ efforts were quite informative in narrowing down the man’s Quirk and general methodology, Endeavor’s agency has made their operations in the area rather tenuous. They cannot safely patrol the city.” 

Which was a nice way of saying that while Obito and Kakashi could get into pitched fights with people like Burnin or even Endeavor himself, it was a waste of time and effort on everyone’s parts. Apparently, the general ANBU aesthetic trended closely enough to Stain’s known appearance that it nearly got her teammates set on fire three separate times. No one was hurt, but not for lack of trying. There was always a lot of griping afterward. 

Kei nodded along. “So, you want me to…?” 

“The hero Manual has already put in an offer for your internship experience,” Nezu said, “which isn’t even something I had to ask of him! It appears that aside from Iida-kun, no other hero students have accepted his overtures. Try to keep everyone from unfortunate accidents, Gekkō-san. I know I can trust you to act with prudence and diligence.” 

That was a nice way of saying that Kei wasn’t allowed to go for the double-tap on Stain. Or let anybody die. Even if it looked like Endeavor’s bullshit attitude might be curtailed at long last if she just stood back and watched him get a little bit stabbed. 

“Manual is a respected mentor for beginner heroes,” Kei murmured, mostly to herself. Setting her teacup down on the desk, drained, she said, “Are you hoping this might be a character-building experience for me, Nezu-dono?” 

Those beady black eyes gleamed. “Perhaps.” 

“I want it noted that I don’t agree with this plan,” Aizawa said in his usual monotone. His eyes were open for the first time in a while, about as red and itchy-looking as usual. “Using Gekkō as villain bait doesn’t stop being unethical simply because she’s being raised for the role.”

“I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing.” 

There was a slight pause. “I know. It doesn’t make it less of a tragedy.” 

Kei sighed. “Then can we just acknowledge it and move on? I’d rather be useful.” 

Aizawa’s expression was difficult to read—sort of like Kei’s in the mirror—but he didn’t offer more negativity just yet. 

The main reason he wasn’t protesting more vociferously probably came down to Kei’s demonstrated ability to go directly up to a Nōmu billed as “the perfect anti-All Might weapon” and make its head implode with water pressure and no small amount of spite. Sort of like a deep-sea diver if their pressure suit failed. If Shigaraki didn’t want his minion dying so pathetically, he shouldn’t have said what its Quirks were. Shock absorption combined with super regeneration were great in theory, but they both had limits. And it didn’t take a genius to look at that exposed brain case and draw some conclusions. 

The whole thing was messy. 

Suffice to say, Kei found the occasional wary looks from her classmates wholly justified and tried not to let it bother her nowadays. 

“If I accept, do you plan to have Manual read in on everything?” Kei asked. Typically, mission parameters were set by the Hokage in advance, but Nezu did have a lot of leeway outside of contract specifications because the rat’s funds were functionally limitless. 

“No, that is not a requirement to secure the next steps,” Nezu said. He sort of looked like he smiled, but the teeth were wrong. For a rodent. “Just try to keep your explosive intervention style to a minimum and there won’t be anything too serious to explain.”

So, that’s a jinx.

I assumed so. 

Kei sighed. “Mission accepted, Nezu-dono. I’ll try not to step on any toes.”

[gunnrblze]

I'd like to know a naughty Elias thought that you haven't told us…👀🙏🏼

May I suggest nasty old man pervert Elias?👁️ (im sorry in advance lmfao)

Retired Elias or something who attempts to find something to fill his days with now that he isn’t barking orders and what not, tending to the shit he swore he’d never miss, but now does.

At first he takes the time to relax, but he’s a fast paced man, that gets boring quickly. He’s not quite made to just laze around. Not on his own, at least.

Enter you, somehow. He meets you, gets to know you, and bless his heart, he’s obsessed.

The man is older now, early 50s aren’t too kind on one’s lower back. So when you’re over at his house one day and he asks you to bend over for him, pick something up he dropped, of course you oblige.

Except he’s not quite the average 50 year old. In better shape than a lot of people with less years weighing on them. But the way your ass fills out your pants is almost too good to be true. The smile on your face and the way your shirt rides up to reveal a sliver of your lower back has him acting as if he’s never seen a woman before.

He asks if you’d help grab some stuff out of the attic with him-old photos of his boys you’d wanted to see-and watches the way your neck slicks with a sheen of sweat from the warmth upstairs. Plucks a box from a shelf with ease as he silently imagines licking it off your neck, the sound that’d come out of your delicate throat if he were to trail his tongue down between your legs. He’d lick up every square inch of you, if only you’d ask…

He’s aware of what he’s doing, but his poor dick has started to think for him again now that you’re around. He’s not a young soldier anymore, can’t get it up to the mere sight of just anything.

But you’re not just any other sight.

He almost wants to beg to be let out of retirement, instead of being let out of his cage like some old dog. An old dog who’s got you keeping him company, you sweet thing.

You help cook dinner with him, he pours you a glass of wine and himself a bourbon. He doesn’t even try to hide the way he shamelessly stares at you, smiles every time your tipsy giggles and hiccups get the best of you. He watches your lips wrap around a fork and tries not to wonder how they’d feel kissing down his chest, nipping and biting all over.

Your mark is left on him otherwise though, that’s for sure. He puts on a boring old movie for the two of you two watch after dinner and lets you cuddle into his side, a heavy arm slung around you. He revels in it -poor guy doesn’t get anything like this anymore, nothing as breathtaking as you- keeps you wrapped up, massages a hand over your hip, enjoys that little squirm you do. Would you squirm the same way if he slid his fingers inside of you and massaged those tight walls, too?

And your scent only lingers on that shirt you left in his bathroom after he accidentally splashed water on you while washing dishes… leaving you no choice but to change into one of his. He didn’t mind letting you borrow one, darling. He didn’t mind you forgetting to change out of it either.

And when you go home at the end of the night, giving him a peck on the cheek and flashing that sweet smile, it’s more than enough.

He only waits long enough to ensure you pull out of his driveway safely before he snags that shirt from the bathroom (if he stored it under the sink after you left it there, being the reason you forgot all about it in the first place, well that’s on him) and heads to his bedroom.

Just the thought has his worn out cock swelling up faster than he thought possible these days. Damn near ripping his belt buckle open, shoving his cargos down as he sprawls out on his duvet, all he has to imagine is your pretty little self.

A hand wrapped around his length, squeezing and stroking and groaning into your soft shirt, clenched in his fist and near trembling…he figured heaven may be real after all.

He inhales your scent, burying his face in the fabric while he touches himself. Just picturing the sight of you in his t shirt from earlier, had him panting and moaning into the quiet of his room. Truly a dog, if there ever were one.

He’d groan your name without a care, unable to help the way he imagined your pussy wrapped around him instead. How your tits would bounce if you rode him. He let himself pretend it was okay, you’d never know after all, just enamored with the nice older man whose company you enjoyed. He was so sweet to you, too. Couldn’t help but come back for more.

Cum splattered all over his lower stomach from where his shirt had lifted, he kept tugging his softening cock, wincing at the sensitivity. Near pleading for you, as if you were still there.

He could feel almost feel your lips ghosting over his cheek again, feel the warmth of your body pressed to his side. All he wanted to do was stare into your sparkling eyes and ruin you just enough to gloss them over a bit.

For now though, Elias would suffice for the soft sound of your voice as you called him, letting him know you’d gotten home, but asking if you’d left that shirt lying around…?

[jackiepackiee]

Genya! SFW Alphabet

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Genya does struggle to outwardly show his affection, a mix of being shy and used to the rejection he faces with his brother. But after a few weeks in the relationship, and a lot of reassurance that you want his affection, he will be more comfortable holding your hand in public and cuddling you. However he always asks permission, and he looks like a little puppy waiting to be granted it. Who would say no?

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Now this is a challenge. He doesn’t let people in very easily, but when he does? This boy will not let a single bad thing happen to you. He’s like a protective guard dog always yelling at others to mind their own business. As for the start? He doesn’t make friends with non demon slayers since they don’t know about the existence of demons, so you have to be a slayer for him to talk to you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Once you get past the initial shyness he is such a cuddle bug! He’s a little stiff, but he makes up for it with all that plush muscle. He’s just so shy! Don’t blame him for blushing hot red and staring at the ceiling the first few times you hold each other. The best cuddles will be when you have long and tiring missions, he’ll hold you with no restraints and comfort you to make everything seem okay.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

YES, that’s the whole headcanon. This boy is a family man and wants nothing more than to share a life with the person he loves most. Now he won’t quit the demon slayers for a while, unless it’s putting you in danger. As for cooking and cleaning? He’s average, but he makes up for it in spirit and never lets you lift a finger if he’s around.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

He wouldn’t. Genya is in this for life

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Genya does want to get married, he sees it as a large act of love. But if you don’t want to, it’s okay. Being with you is all that matters to him, not the legal paper. If you do get married he’d wait until he’s out of the corps and always around you. He’d hate to leave his loving partner all alone for weeks on end with nothing but a ring.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He is the most gentle he has ever been in his entire life. Physically he knows he’s strong so he pays attention to every single touch that he gives you. Never ever risking you getting hurt, even kissing is soft and sweet. Emotionally he’s a bit fragile, always looking to be on the good side of his loved ones. Don’t be mean, because if he loves you he won’t fight back…

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He’ll blush during hugs, unable to stay calm feeling your body against his. It’s taking over all of his senses with you and he’s overwhelmed! After a long mission or long training session he’ll hug you first. Holding you in his chest to calm down. He’s much bigger than you so hugging him is being engulfed in warmth and love.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Probably during his confession. Genya won’t get in a relationship unless he’s 100% sure of his love, and he spills all his feelings during the confession.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Jealous boy :( He gets let down when he’s jealous and doesn’t have his fighting spirit. He won’t yell at the person he’s jealous of unless they’re making you uncomfortable. Make sure to reassure him you’re not leaving, because in situations like this he won’t say much.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are gentle and loving, full of all the emotions he holds for you each time. He likes to kiss your forehead and your nose, liking the way you scrunch your face. As for him he likes to be kissed on his cheek and on his head when you’re cuddling. He likes how soft it feels.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Genya is perfect with kids, and it makes you want to start a family with him the second you see him talking to the children. He isn’t gruff or mean, but like a big brother playing with them and doing their hair. Kids also love him, so expect a group of little ones to pile onto him whenever you’re around a schoolhouse in town.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He doesn’t like getting up, and will whine into the pillow once before falling back asleep. Unfortunately he sleeps like a rock so if he’s holding you don’t expect you will be free anytime soon.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

After dinner he’s straight to bed and carrying you on his shoulder. Loving to sleep, he’s holding you and out in minutes. Soft breaths and the rise and fall of his chest putting you out like a light too.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

It would take many weeks for him to be more open about his feelings, but don’t expect the big details of his life like his siblings or mother until months into dating. He needs to trust you more than anyone else.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He can’t get angry with you, it’s not in his body. He can yell at get gruff with others, but he’s so sweet and gentle. Always blushing and doing everything to help you, arguing is hard when he looks so dejected. Yall talk it out, he HATES being rough with you.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He tries his best! Genya may forget some small details here and there but rest assured he knows all the important facts about you. He tries to remember, but he has a lot going on.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Deep down he is still a kid, and his favorite moment is when you two got in a snowball fight after a mission and you surprise attacked him with a soft pile of snow to the face. Seeing you laugh so carefree and happy is the best sight he’s ever seen, even if it meant getting a snowball to his face to get it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

110% He’s lost a lot and isn’t willing to let you get hurt. A lot it up at stake here with demons, and he’ll eat as many as it takes to be strong enough for you. Nothing is hurting you, he’ll make damn sure of it.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Every moment feels special with him. Nothing extravagant, he’s too young to pull that off. But flowers off the mountain side and little dates in a garden is his favorite way of treating you. For your first anniversary he gave you a locket and BLUSHED bright red when you put a picture of him inside.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He’s too hard on himself, and gets too caught up in his training. So it’s a bit of a struggle to help him live freely when he’s so stubborn.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not at all really. He likes his hair the way it is and appreciates his height. Although he sorta hates his brute look since it often makes children and woman fear him, so remind him it’s attractive!

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, after meeting you he wouldn’t be able to live the same without you. It’s cliche I know, but he’s a lover in his heart.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He loves watermelon but HATES watermelon flavored things.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

In general is math, he just can’t figure it out.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

All day everyday if he could. He loves to sleep and when he’s out he’s not getting up until his body tells him to. He’s pretty still and will always hold you securely.

[zahri-melitor]

sorry, you're probably tired of discussing this. But I feel like the draw of Cassie's yj design in comparison to her (arguably dominant) character styling since the 2000s is just that it's distinctive. Her current design is pretty, somewhat functional and makes sense for who her character is right now, but her 90s design visually distinguished her from other blonde haired blue eyed heroes. Yes, a lot of girls 'grow out' of the tomboy style, and we see Cassie doing that nearing the end of YJ98 as she takes on more responsibility, but she still had her goggles and a unique look. Maybe I just have a grudge against leggings, headbands and tiny jean jackets, but I feel like this is more a question of aesthetics than Cassie's development as a character. Hope you have a good day/night :]

You're not going to like my answer, I fear.

If you were going to ask me what factors I use to pick out Cassie in a random title, it comes down to what I see distinguishing her in a Wonder Woman title and what I see distinguishing her in a team book or event. Because when a character exists for decades, you tend to rely on some very simple basics.

If it's a Wonder Woman title, spotting Cassie is pretty easy. She has blonde hair and her outfits generally look like she pulled them together out of her own wardrobe with some fan merch added. You can tell her apart from Vanessa Kapatelis via the fact Nessie has light brown hair in tight curls or a perm.

Cassie in Wonder Woman is about her casual clothing costumes, compared to say Donna's tendency for her costumes to be unitards and Diana to use either Ancient Greek armour or her bathing suit. Yara seems to be developing "leotard with long sleeves" as her costume marker. It's not perfect, but Wonders tend to change up their costumes frequently, so you've got to look at the repeated design elements more than any one single look.

On the other side of things, what I look for to find Cassie in a team title or event is: bare midriff, her star earrings, bracers, tiara/headband details. Her goggles, incidentally, ARE a 'tiara/headband' detail. I look for detailing that says 'Wonder'. For Teen Titans titles, the thing is that Cassie is the default expected blonde girl in that title; others need to distinguish themselves from her. This is part of the reason for instance you see Mia spend quite a bit of the 2000s in a ponytail as 'her' thing, because a ponytail keeps her hair out of her bow AND visually looks different.

Todd Nauck was handed a title to draw that contained three blonde haired girls. Because he needed the three of them to be distinct in the title, he developed different aesthetics for each of them within that title, down to and including the colouring of that hair (Cissie's hair is a cool toned blonde, long, poker straight, with a deep fringe and headband. Cassie's hair is a warm toned blonde, varying lengths, and wavy. Secret/Greta's hair is a bob and very wispy, as she's a ghost).

Not all artists are going to be that careful or indeed have titles where they need to make sure 3 blonde girls who regularly appear in their pages are visually distinct. So rolling with the punches is actually easier than clinging to a single design.

It's like...tell me what length Selina Kyle's hair is 'supposed' to be. It's varied significantly over the years. Tell me what her costume is supposed to look like. Characters can have more than one aesthetic associated with them.

Tell me what length and what colour Lois Lane's hair is 'supposed' to be. You can still pick her out, can't you, even if she's not wearing her Silver Age bob?

Lois in long wavy brown hair and trousers is just as much Lois as she is in a black bob, a pillbox hat and a poodle skirt. As she is being half Asian with a shingled black crop in MAWS.

[dp-marvel94]

(Here is the ficlet in question, btw.)

@jackdaw-sprite Thank you so much for responding! That would be a very neat idea to play with. Actually, I do have something off an idea based on a DPxDC prompt I reblogged at some point about Danny unintentionally causing the Gotham vigilantes chaos and confusion via duplication. I definitely don't remember enough details to figure out which one. :(

New Ficlet below the cut!

Danny is on the run from his parents/the GIW, living in a crummy apartment and trying to keep a low profile. He doesn't have very much, so he's very excited to find an actually in pretty good shape couch that someone was throwing up. It's late so, figuring no one will see him, Danny duplicates to have two pairs of hands to get the furniture up the stairs and into his apartment. 

Of course, Danny does get spotted by his neighbor, Jason, who offers to hold doors open and help with the unwieldy couch. Names are exchanged: Danny and, after a pause as Danny realizes he has to come up with something for his duplicate, Jamie. The "three" manage to get the couch inside. But now Jason is worried about what appears to be a pair of twins, 16 years old at the most, living alone in the apartment with one ratty couch and a book bag between them. Jason isn't pushy or overly concerned, but he does make a point to check on his new neighbors regularly. 

After the second time running into Jason and being asked about "Jaime," Danny realizes he's going to have to pretend to be his own twin. Duplication is very helpful for that, though he tries not to do it too often and for too long since it uses a lot of energy. He'll just have the "twins" make regular, short appearances together. It's not like he's trying to get close to anyone in Gotham 

This, of course, slowly escalates into having dinner with Jason. The first is a one off; man claimed he made too much and Danny didn't really have money for food. Plus it was really good. Accepting the hospitality just this once wouldn't be that bad. Of course, "Jamie" has come to dinner too.

This leads to more meals with his neighbor, to Jason trying to teach "the twins" to cook more than easy mac. 

Jason's youngest brother ends meeting the "twins" when he pounds on the door during dinner and barges in, complaining that "Father is being unreasonable" and grounded him.

Damian and "the twins" end up huddling in Jason's apartment during Danny's first rogue attack since he arrived in Gotham. Jason ran off as soon as the alert went off, claiming that he was needed at the Fire station where he worked. He pointedly says that Damian can stay and look after his non-Gothamite neighbors since he's grounded. The preteen is prickly but does stay put. Danny starts to get restless, unable to re-merge and starting to fear that his energy will waver and "Jamie" will appear to pop out of existence. He nervously eyes the door and Damian threatens to stab him if he tries to leave, saying that "Todd is apparently fond of you both and will be quite disappointed" with Damian if something happens to Danny and Jamie. 

Well.... Jamie will definitely disappear if Damian stabs him. So Danny manages to maintain his duplicate for five hours, more than twice as long as any time before. By the time the threat is over, Jason returns, and Danny can go back to his apartment, he's desperately trying to hide how exhausted and shaky he is from the excursion. He losses hold of the duplicate as soon as the door is closed.

Despite the hardship, maintaining a duplicate is somehow so much easier after that. He can stay duplicated for longer and gradually, he realizes controlling the secondary body is easier. At the beginning, he needed at lot of effort and control to pilot the duplicate, having to mentally direct it to speak or move. He played "Jamie" as being shy and quiet, so there was less talking to dictate. But overtime, the need for mental prompting becomes less and less. Playing "Jamie" became more automatic, more instinctual. Almost like the duplicate ran on auto-pilot, mostly acting how Danny himself would, though more reserved. To an outside perspective, it looked like "Jamie" finally getting comfortable and coming out of his shell. But to Danny it was a relief, not having to spend so much energy running his duplicate and always worrying about being found out.

Slowly, Danny meet more of Jason's family. One of Jay's brothers, Tim, runs into him at his coffee shop job and, blinking sleepily, asks which twin he is, before realizing that Danny is wearing a name tag. This leads to Danny's coworkers finding out about "Jamie" and his "twin" visiting him at work.

As act grows and more people ended up meeting "the twins," Danny has to spend more and more time pretending to be a pair of twins in more and more ridiculous situations. Playing both of them gets easier and easier, more and more comfortable until the twins can banter, share inside jocks, tell stories from their childhood. Maybe it is intentional, maybe it's subconscious. But slowly, differences develop to differentiate the twins. "Jamie" is growing out his hair, he loves toast and watching documentaries about biology. Danny, more and more convincingly, pretends to have a brother until at some points... it no longer feels like he is pretending.

Despite his new friends, Danny is still so lonely. The apartment is still almost bare, the money he gets from his job barely enough. It's never the job he wanted; he wants to be in school now, applying to colleges so he can get into NASA. But he can't do anything to draw attention to himself, not with the government or the vigilantes. And he misses his friends and sister so badly.

One particularly hard night, when he is heartbroken and hurting, Danny lies on his second-hand mattress in the dark, weeping. He mourns his parents turning on him, his heart aching for Sam, Tucker, and Jazz. He wishes more than anything that he was not alone right now.

Suddenly, there is a yanking on his core that leaves his gasping. A full body pulling sensation that almost feels like being peeled, expect somehow it does not hurt. A second later, it is over and through his blurry eyes, Danny can barely make out a figure kneeling in front of him. Arms coax him into sitting up and pull him into a hug. Danny cries for a long while, not thinking about what just happened, not thinking about what... or who... is holding him. He just accepts the comfort, savors the feeling that he is not alone.

Finally, after the tears slow, Danny pulls back and looks. He lets himself realize what he is looking at. And as he takes in eyes like his, the feeling is something between awe and fear. There is a light in the blue eyes, a spark that he does not recognize. 

And as the brow wrinkles in confusion and the mouth slowly works, words spiral out. Words that Danny could never have predicted.

"If we... if you keep doing this..." Each word is slow and deliberate, as if each takes great effort. "This...." One hand motions slowly, vaguely, as if un-used to movement. "Jamie won't be a lie anymore."

Danny is stunned. He stares for a long while, unable to process. He does not understand what the words means, why the spark in those eyes make him just as elated as it makes him afraid.

So he takes the duplicate's hand and pulls the ecto-energy back inside himself. He reabsorbs it and "Jamie" disappears. And Danny thinks.

Slowly, he realizes how easy staying duplicated has become, how distant and foggy memories from his duplicate's perspective are. He replays the words in his head. 'If you keep doing this... Jamie won't be a lie anymore.' He wonders if they mean what they suggest, and most startlingly.... he wonders where they had come from, if not from himself.

For a few days, he avoids anyone who's meet the twins or claims that his "twin" is busy whenever some asks. But inevitably, his trusty neighbor Jason notices the avoidance and invites himself over to cook dinner. Reluctantly, Danny duplicates; there is clearly no avoiding this conversation.

The dinner is awkward. Danny has a hard time looking at Jason.... and an even harder time looking at his seeming twin. None of the three say much and by the end, their neighbor huffs a sigh and says his piece. Jason knows that no one, especially two teens, live in a shitty apartment in Crime Alley if they can avoid it. He doesn't know if they got kicked out, ran away from home, are hiding from something, lost someone. And Jason won't ask. But as a former alley kid, he knows what it's like to struggle to survive, all on his own. And that's why he wants to look out for Jamie and Danny, however he can and no matter what their story is.

Danny stammers out a disbelieving thanks. He is touched, really, despite the fear of discovery, of vulnerability quivering in his heart. Jason is a good guy and it feels good to have someone who cares. But... the maybe-not-a-lie sits on the couch beside him. A story he could never hope to explain...

Jason smiles, ruffling both of the twin's hairs. He stands to leave. "Take care of each other," he says as almost as after thought. "You're lucky to have each other."

"Jamie" seems to lean, just the tiniest bit closer at the words. 

Jason leaves and it is just Danny and his duplicate. The half ghost releases a breath, letting some of the tension release. He reaches to reabsorb his double and-

A shaky hand grips his forearm. Danny looks, the blue eyes. The spark is back, just the smallest hint in the posture that something is different. Slowly, the brow wrinkles, becoming something worried.

"What is it?" Danny finds himself saying, as if he expects a real response.

"Have... each other." Again, the words are slow as if just the act of thinking is hard. "Not a lie."

Now Danny's brow is wrinkled. "Not a lie? Are you saying that's true? Or asking if it is?"

"Not a lie." The words repeat. "Jamie not a lie."

Danny's stomach knots. He’s heard his duplicate speak dozens of times, even been surprised by some offered puns. But this…

“Not a lie.” One more repeat, this one faster, surer, almost desperate.

Danny looks up again. “Jamie.” He says the name. He’s spoken to his double before in front of other people, as part of the act. But this… it feels as bizarre as it feels right. “Jamie…. Are you… real?”

For just a second, there is something like hope in the other’s eyes. Then, the brow furrows in great effort. “Yes… No….” One more longer, unsure pause. “Becoming.”

“You’re… becoming real?” The words are breathy. Danny isn’t sure whether they make him feel that same hope, or if he feels sick.

The half ghost looks away, staring down at his lap. He doesn’t know what this is, how this is  happening. A moment of panic stabs. Is he sick or insane? Or… is it a trick? A trap?

Danny reaches with his mind, trying to feel. A parasite infecting him? Another ghost, trying to overshadow. There is a thread thin connection, something not quite separate. Danny feels the thing at the end, the being he is speaking with. And… it is like cradling a baby bird. Small, fragile, and so young. No malice, just pure innocence.

The half ghost looks up again. His hand shifts, feeling the cold flesh. His fingers press, the almost flutter of a heart beneath the skin.

The awe from that late night rises, a question echoing in his head. What happens if he lets this  continue? 

He… won’t be alone. Danny remembers that night, crying on his mattress and desperately wanting comfort. And all those times hanging out with Jason. The jokes and banter started as an act to sell the lie. But… weren't they so much more now? Danny imagined having a brother… and now he did. 

But at the same time… fear. Could he even stop this if he wanted to? It feels inevitable, unstoppable. Not if he stays living next to Jason. But… if he tells the truth? Or if he runs, starts again somewhere else. He could reabsorb his duplicate now and let this whole thing fade into memory. Jamie would disappear…

A wave of fear from outside himself. Danny meets terrified eyes. Something in him softens, crumples.

“Jamie?” Danny asks again and can almost feel the heart-flutter solidifying. “Do you want to be real?”

There is a pause, the fearful face becoming something narrowed eyes and sure. “Yes.” So much determination. Danny feels the thread thin ever so slightly.

“Alright.” Danny heaves a sigh, deciding. 

He will hold out as long as he can. He will stay duplicated, keep Jamie here until he’s not a duplicate at all. Jamie will be real.

(I have more ideas about how this story ends so I will probably come back and write more but for now I want that darn thing posted!)

What should I write next?

I took a writing hiatus after finishing my Invisobang fic but now I'm ready to get back to writing! So I am curious about what stories people are interested in seeing continued. An on-going series, a one-shot, one of my Tumblr prompts? I won't promise to fulfill any specific requests, but I have a lot of ideas and hearing people's favorites would really help me narrow it down.

[kazoo-the-demjin]

Soooo what are ur fav animes so far?? What all have you watched??? Tell me all abt em

I've only watched a handful of them, and almost all of them are my fav lol

So we got bakuten (classic, love them)

haikyuu (hinata reminds me so much of yuuji from jjk)

free! (this was my second anime?? For them Hot men)

banana fish (i finished it in ONE DAY the end was lowkey abrupt like the mangaka just wanted to finish it and give us pain)

Death note (Yagami's voice actor is the same as Dazai and a few more i want to eat his voice)

BUNGOU STRAY DOGS ABSOLUTE BELOVED perfect blend of humour and trauma and dark themes like yesss there we go

SK8 the Infinity (the whole thing is just so....wholesome really)

I recently watched Jujutsu Kaisen but on mute. Just the subtitles. Want to watch it again and hEAR Them

OH and spyxfam because an irl introduced me to it

I thinkkk that's it? If i haven't forgotten any. loved all of them. I've even read the manga of bsd, jjk and spy×fam

What are you favourites? Which ones have you watched? Rec some!

[fragmentedblade]

The "Dan Heng is Dan Feng" dogmatics annoy me a lot. It entirely brushes off one of the most interesting and prevalent questions posed by the game, incarnated by several characters and stories that give the question different hues with different potential answers, and a constant also in HI3, like a thread waving the two games together

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: A Gathering of Dust (2.3, LWT, 1972)

"Judging from the wound, the gun was fired from very close range; almost point-blank, I should think. Indicates the possibility of suicide."

"That's right, governor: he blows his brains out, crawls in here, walls himself up, throws the gun away, and dies laughing. That's cos he's got a sense of humour, he knows that a quarter of a bloody century later two stupid coppers are gonna go out of their mind wondering how the hell he did it!"

[jsup]

I GET YOU i do enjoy end tim, i think i made art of him and oliver once or twice. I enjoy it a hell of a lot more than i enjoyed desolation tim. Desolation tim just always seemed like such a poor read on his character. The desolation is about wanton violence and destruction to cause as much pain as possible, but he was so much more focused and intentional and empathetic than that. And like i said it's been a while but i remember thinking a lot abt his sort of dogged determination of hunting down info and leads on the clowns. He quit his job and completely changed careers for scraps of information (and he did get so distracted for a while) but in s3 he does really sort of get back into the hunt (lower case h) for the circus.

Even in the season finale i don't feel completely like him blowing everything up was an intentional like end to things, he wanted to be used like a weapon or a tool to root out an infestation and fix it, like julia and trevor consider themselves to be. He's excited and he wants to jump the gun during MAG118 because it's his first REAL hunt where he's going to get to actually get some blood on his hands. Daisy is a lot more composed for it but a. it's not her quarry and b. she's way more experienced than he is. It just so happened that being that tool made him die 😭. He SEEMS very determined to get his quarry no matter the cost.

man it's been a while since i was in the TMA mines but i was always so mad abt desolation tim. that motherfucker was the HUNTTTT

I'm still an end!tim truther til I die but I feel like there might be more hunt!tim evidence than desolation even anyhow

[dutybcrne]

From a very young age, Kaeya held such a fondness for handholding. Whether it was his father clinging tightly to him to make sure he didn’t get lost, Adelinde’s gentle, grounding hand closed over his to comfort him whenever his nerves got the better of him, Crepus’s rough-palmed, firm yet comforting grip as he brought him back home, or, as it was most often of all, Diluc’s warm, yet at times uncomfortably tight hold as he dragged him anywhere, everywhere, determined to always keep Kaeya close and eagerly show him all there was to see, Kaeya treasured the gesture greatly.

Of course, being as shy as he was, initiating it himself was always the harder part. So much so, he would tend to hold pinkies, rather than outright take a person’s hand in his own. Eventually, it would become his most common way to go about the gesture of affection.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 8:46

“Do you have dimples?”

Bakugou doesn’t understand it himself, but you always find your way back to his house after your first visit—asking these out-of-the-blue questions that seem to have no end to them. It’s like a curse has befallen him, one that follows him wherever he goes.

For a moment, his eyes snap in your direction, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, though his intense glare never once wavers. He didn’t know what the hell you were getting at, and he wasn’t sure if he had the strength to even want to know why you were asking about something so random.

Honestly, he should be used to it by now. But the thing is, he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll be popping out of nowhere with another of your pointless questions.

“Hah?”

“I asked, do you have dimples?” you repeated.

His eye twitches at the repeated question, and as much as he’d like to give you a snappy remark to get you to stop, he can’t seem to come up with one. So, for the time being, he decides to humor you (and hope for the best that you drop it and move onto another topic).

“Why the hell are you asking?”

“Because Kaminari and I made a bet whether you have dimples or not. I went with yes, you do have them—even if it’s a singular dimple, but Kaminari says otherwise,” you explained, tapping your finger softly against the coffee table.

He scoffs at the childish reason. “And what makes you think I do have one?”

“A hunch,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “I also have just one.” You smiled, showing off your obvious singular dimple on your right cheek.

Bakugou glances at your dimple for a brief moment, eyes scanning over your face and the way that the dimple seemed to perfectly dip into the soft skin of your cheek. He almost found himself entranced for a moment, but his gaze returned to your eyes as he huffed out in mock disinterest.

He was about to dismiss your hunch—maybe just flat-out refuse to even show you—or come up with a lie. But Bakugou Katsuki wasn’t a liar.

“What happens if you win the bet?”

“I get 3000 yen,” you answered.

That’s a lot, he thought.

“I can pay you 3000 yen to shut the fuck up and stop with the useless questions.”

“There’s no fun in that!”

He scoffs again as he leans back against the sofa, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at your stupidity. He eyed you for a moment, his head tilting to the side as he sighed. “And what happens if you lose the bet?”

“He gets 3000 yen.”

Bakugou almost wanted to laugh at the fact that you were putting so much faith and money on a simple guess, but he managed to hold back on the amused expression and forced himself to remain calm and unbothered.

He leaned back a bit more, relaxing against the plush seats, letting out a mocking “tch” before he said, “What if I don’t show you if I have a damn dimple or not?”

“Please? Oh my god, Bakugou. Don’t do this to me now! Kaminari’s going to do a ‘victory dance’ when he finds out he won by default,” you half-whined.

He was about to give you his final choice when suddenly you started whining at him. Bakugou rose an eyebrow at you, lips quirking to a frown. As idiotic as it is to him, it looks like it was quite a serious matter to you.

“Tch. Whatever.”

You threw your hands to your face, groaning. “Pretty please, with a cherry on top? Spare me some sympathy—and be a team player for once!”

He found himself fighting a scowl at the way you acted. It was somewhat different this time around, and it was making him feel weird. Damn it. You’re a goddamn nuisance.

“Alright, fine. Just—” He motioned with his hand for you to come closer, an almost annoyed expression on his face. “If you tell anyone else about this other than Dunce Face, I’ll make sure you don’t ever see the next sunrise.”

“That doesn’t sound heroic at all—but yes, of course!” you cheered. “Just a little smile, and I shall confirm the goods.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shut up,” he muttered under his breath, already regretting giving into your stupid request but at the same time knowing that he would never let Kaminari win against you in all circumstances possible.

He let out a huff and hesitantly let the sides of his own lips quirk up into a half-assed attempt at a smile, but from the way it was so rigid, it looked more like a painful grimace.

You gave him a confused, somewhat flat look in return. “Dude, you look like you’re about to shit yourself—mmph! ” You didn’t get to finish what you were saying as Bakugou’s palms immediately squished your cheeks together to shut you up.

“Oh shut it, dipshit,” Bakugou grumbled, his grip on your cheeks tightening ever so slightly as he forced you to pout your lips. “You were asking for a smile. I give one, and you wanna give me smart ass remarks about it?”

“I didn’ even gwet toh shee anythin’! That’s how bwad ith was,” you muffled out through pouty lips.

“Are you gonna keep yapping and bitching about what you asked for, or are you gonna accept my goddamn smile?”

“Fine, fine!” you yielded, pushung his hands away from your face. “Do it one more time, and I’ll actually check this time.”

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he were wondering if you were going to actually do as you said or go against it and keep making smart-ass comments. But as you yielded, he let out a sigh and decided he’d rather just get this done and over with. 

Less hassle for him.

He repeated his ‘smile’ from before, which looked more like a forced sneer, and he waited for your verdict. This was his last straw; he was going to murder you (not).

You had to hold back your laughter but failed to do so. “I really can’t— Bakugou, please! ” you mused, hitting his shoulder playfully. “Your ‘smile’ reminds me of that time Kirishima had to hold the biggest shit before the bell rings.”

That caught Bakugou off guard. He remembered the memory of Kirishima’s panicked expression and the weird waddle he’d walked around in as he desperately tried to find a bathroom made Bakugou snort under his breath.

“Oh my god, you’re laughing!” you gawked. “And have a dimple! Just a singular one, like mine! We’re matching.”

There it was. A singular dimple on his left cheek.

Bakugou tried to regain his lost composure and let out a scoff in an attempt to mask the slight tint of pink that reached the tip of his ears. He forced his hand onto your face, shoving you (lightly, if he may add) away from him to prevent you from getting another look at his dimple.

“It’s not a worldwide discovery, dumbass. I can fucking laugh if I want to, and it’s just a fucking indent on the cheek.”

“Still cute,” you shrugged, pulling up your phone to text Kaminari. “I need to let Kami know that I won the bet, then we celebrate with bubble tea— my treat!”

“Hey wait— You—“

He tried to protest against your sudden celebration, wanting to tell you that he wasn’t going to let you treat him for anything. This whole damn thing started because of a stupid bet, and he doesn’t really find joy in gaining something from it, but as you pulled out your phone and began to text Kaminari, he sighed and leaned back again with his arms crossed tight against his chest.

“Whatever. You’re fucking annoying.”

“Kay,” you answered. “Also, your actual smile is pretty charming, if you ask me. It’s different from the usual sneer you have on your face. That’s just my opinion, though.”

Bakugou’s face grew a bit warm at your unexpected compliment, but he quickly tried to hide it and turned his head to avert his gaze away from you. His mouth opened to reply with a snappy remark or something like that, but he found himself hesitating.

He eventually scoffed and muttered a low, “Tch. Stop spouting nonsense.”

“Bakugou Katsuki has a singular dimple,” you sing-songed aloud, though you knew that no one would hear since his parents weren’t even home.

Bakugou felt his eyes twitch at your teasing, resisting the urge to tell you off and even going as far as to just punch your shoulder lightly. “Shut the fuck up, dipshit.”

He later found out that there was no bet, and you had just made up the whole scenario to confirm your curiosity. That Bakugou Katsuki does have a dimple, a singular one at that.

Could you imagine how furious he was?

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