#this is sos fucking stupid who let you guys enable my brain

[xulips]

Kohane and Akito liking yuri manga is so funny and honestly I see it as canon now, but that begs the question.

Would An and Touya like yaoi manga then?

mangas? you mean Gay Chinese Men Novel?

aki&koha yuri (aka pt 1)

[inoreuct]

Okay I actually have a few extra headcanons for this au (and the little ficlet I’m writing for you), so take them into account when reading lol (hope you don’t mind)

Zoro (when in human form) has two pairs of canines (not one, the extra pair sits behind the first. The first (normal) pair are quite large, and sometimes stick out of his mouth), and his teeth are all unnaturally sharp. Also, slit pupils because I said so. He also has tiger stripe prints on his back, although he normally excuses them as tattoos. Ears are slightly pointed, fingers more nimble, you know the drill. Moves and jumps way faster/higher than a normal person has any right to. Nails are similar to cats claws (as in, attached to the bone), and are incredibly sharp. The Tiger form is massive, and makes him look like some kind of spirit (sword + massive + green = not normal lol). Scars and the such transfer to each form. Side note, Zoro doesn’t really feel pain (or temperature for that matter), so it’s harder for chopper to treat him, because how does one treat something when the subject can’t feel it? Zoro is also really intelligent and perceptive, it just doesn’t seem that way because he has zero fucks left to give.

Hope your day is good my guy <3

IM SHAKING YOU SO HARD. WHAAAAAAT THE HELL THIS IS SO SO GOOD ALREADY.

i’m sat here hunched over my phone like 👀👀 I’M SO MAD I DIDN’T THINK OF THE SLIT PUPILS FIRST I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THAT and yes to the pointy teeth. he’s a bitey bastard with his crew already but he’s entirely capable of ripping someone’s throat out with those. and the TIGER STRIPES your brain is so HUGE. massive, dare i say. the increased speed, strength, agility— it’s not obvious when you don’t look closely but once you do it’s easy to see that he’s Not All Human. but i think his crew is almost a safety barrier against people reading too much into it, because zoro bickers and banters and lets them hang all over him, and it puts strangers at ease yk?

HE’S DEFINITELY BEEN MISTAKEN AS SOME KIND OF SPIRIT AT SOME POINT. THE WHOLE CREW GOT A KICK OUT OF IT a village thought zoro was a divine guardian or something and the entire crew got treated like royalty. usopp felt a little bad about not saying anything but the others were Capitalising and zoro was living his best life LMAO

and omg. i hate it when people pass zoro off as dumb or stupid because he is a dumbass but he’s not Dumb. he literally created his own sword style. his battle instincts are honed nearly sharper than his claws. he sits in the back of a room and seems antisocial but he is clocking EVERYTHING; who’s coming in and out of all the exits, where his crewmates are, any potential threats etc etc (also figures out exactly what booze they have by smell alone but let’s not enable him shall we)— the point is, he is intelligent, perceptive and he doesn’t seem like it, which makes him all the more dangerous. people look at him and see a blockhead with three swords, and the next thing they know they’re pinned to the ground with claws in their chest and fangs at their throat. he’s vicious and i love it.

ANYWAY I’M SO EXCITED TO READ THE FICLET YOU HAVE NO IDEA I’M DOING LAPS RN. this was so enjoyable to read already i literally can’t wait for the whole thing. HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY ANON 🫶🏼🫶🏼

[hellshandbasket]

You just have to elaborate on the “I mean like even the apple seeds” tag on your Dennis’ pain and how Mac takes care of it post because I am very intrigued and can’t infer on that myself!

haha you guys should stop enabling me. anyway. yes i will humanize even the apple seeds joke and make it about macdennis + pain. (tw for light/vague discussions of disordered eating)

my favorite thing about this particular unhinged take is that it focuses on how dysfunctional the macdennis dynamic is instead of just the sweeping romanticism of mac being able to see dennis’ pain and attend to it, because it highlights how mac sometimes does that to an unhealthy/incorrect degree.

but i digress. sorry to keep you waiting. the apple seeds: it’s about the way mac takes dennis’ distress over the thing seriously, and offers dennis genuine and caring counsel.

in fact, if i use the tidy little “mac is the only one able to attend to dennis’ pain and dennis can’t let go of that” theory it explains why dennis would allow himself to believe something so fucking dumb as “cigarette smoke smothers the poisonous apple seeds in your stomach.” we all know dennis has issues with food. both mac and dennis have body image issues, and mac has fluctuating issues with food himself. but about dennis—mr undiagnosed eating disorder himself. i don’t think he has just a restrictive/body image based eating disorder, but something like arfid or ocd, where he has innumerable neuroses and anxieties around his food intake.

this is where it gets toxic because mac is aware of this and takes it upon himself to be like, dennis’ food bodyguard. he’s actually trying to love and care for dennis, but he doesn’t know any better and ends up enabling dennis’ instead (macdennis i’m obsessed with you). gang chokes is like, about this. but md break up talks about it and the apple seeds thing are the greatest example for me, and a huge manifestation of the macdennis + pain thing imo.

there’s the apple skin thing to start, which is a great instance of how this would work. it also gives us a nice glimpse into how macdennis + pain is reciprocal because (and i haven’t even gotten to do a whole thesis on this but i could) mac struggles with wanting to feel needed, wanted, of value, etc and as much as he can get bitchy and mean, overall dennis makes mac feel all of those things. especially in peak macdennis years (3/4-9). but i’m digressing again—just pointing out how and why this works so well for mac too, because it’s more than just being stupid in love with dennis (it fulfills something personal in him too, it soothes a hurt in him too).

but for me, the apple seeds? another instance of dennis showing negative, painful emotion, and mac being the only one to respond in a way that matters to dennis. i mean yes a moment to thank glenn for his comedic genius in the sound of that fake retching, but also dennis was so distressed over the thought of potentially eating something bad. that was panic! that was repulsion! that was fear! food is just such a fundamental thing for dennis.

the rest of the gang kind of brush him off when he scurries over, totally distraught over these stupid apple seeds. charlie validates his alarm over the toxicity of the dumb seeds (<3), but no one has time for dennis and his hysteria. and it is hours after the whole ordeal has passed, and they are still kind of fighting, but the minute dennis sees him he tells this to mac because he knows mac will take him seriously and fix the hurt. he looks so relieved when mac doesn’t brush it off or question him or roll his eyes, he just takes it in stride and asks dennis if he tried x to solve the problem.

i know this kind of thing happens regularly and i know it rewires things in dennis’ brain! he must be so scared and yet so comforted! he must be so confused and in love and embarrassed and mac is mine and mac cares and oh god what if mac leaves who will give a shit if i cry over apple seeds then no one can know apple seeds scare me like this ahhh!!!

[nazumichi]

oo how about marie?

thank you for sending me marie, mutual. in doing so, you have enabled me to talk about marie.

favorite thing about them: i was rewatching some parts of the show to get some screencaps, and tbh her attitude is just. best thing about her. she’s so smug all of the time, and she has no right to be, considering many people would like to punch her in the face. she’s like a girlboss (making that money) yet also she’s cringey and extremely fail (aggravated some horse with a pompadour and then acted surprised when he tried to murder her in the street, hangs around with some random teenager all day). i also like how she knows how to pick her battles, she just doesn’t know when to let up on those battles. she WILL poke the bear, but as she isn’t poking every bear in sight, she’s concentrating all that irritation into a single few people who want her dead (like that horse client, likely flip and rose, and shirou too — the matter of things does not change how they would throttle her).

least favorite thing about them: “alright then, keep your secrets” sort of moment. woman!! who are you!! there’s so many unanswered questions around her, and on the one hand i like how it allows me to build up on her character, but also ….. would pay big bucks to somehow set up an interview with this awful woman and ask her to tell me her life story.

favorite line: ABSOLUTELY hilarious scene in the manga where she says, with her whole chest mind you, no afterthought as to how weird it is “well if your nose can’t find it, then no other beastman’s nose can.” and i just would like to say. what the fuck. her normal swag, imagine saying that to a guy after they angst about losing a trail, WHAT was that…. ACTUAL FAV LINE BECAUSE IT’S JUST SO 🥺 is in that same chapter where she’s talking to shirou while flipping round an aerosol can and says “human science, am i right~?” WATERED MY CROPS, marie scientist hc slowly losing the h!! yes miss mink you are right, talk about your interests (i have the suspicion that shirou would be willing to listen, if they weren’t going through Hard Times™️)

brOTP: her and michiru aren’t exactly “bro” to me. if i’m allowed to be self-indulgent, i would say they’re more of an uhhhh familial dynamic? like that’s her kid, you see. that’s the kid she picked up by complete accident with the intention of “i need someone to do my dirty work” and now she’s getting accidentally referred to as “mom” and does NOT know how to deal with that. kind of awkward, to scam the kid who hangs around you 24/7, eventually. “sell those to pay off your phone-bill or else. hope you have a good day at school, knock ’em dead, kiddo.” idk they’re funny to me, so sorry for getting self-indulgent with you 😔

OTP: if i don’t make a stupid post, draw something stupid, write something stupid about ogatami, i will literally die. i cobbled it together my bare hands, make the content you wish to see and all, be unhinged as possible. they’re married, they’re divorced, they’re exes, they’re in a new relationship, they’re pining, they’re parents of two. every time they see her, they get the urge to throttle her. they would murder anyone if she asked. “I could fix her.” “I could make them worse.” and rose could make them jobless. you don’t get it, i’m always down to think/talk/make content of them. rattling them round the brain.

nOTP: with any of the minor characters, but that’s about it. random headcanon: AWFUL eyesight. really bad. she refuses to wear glasses, she says they make her look old. eyesight is so ruined because she’s up late wearing those stupid glasses and looking at bright screens. oh my god is she a gamer gf wait w i bet she does wear contacts, but she often forgets about them and just. walks around with bad long-distance vision. rose offers to get her prescription glasses, because while she does not like her, she would prefer if her advisor’s informant/her unlicensed scientist/secret agent type could see what she was doing. and marie’s like “yeah, i bet ya’d like that, huh?” “yes i would, that’s why i offered?”

unpopular opinion: suuuper unpopular, but i think if the silver wolf/god plot was either like. either moved a little or simply was nonexistent, it would be really great for her and other characters like nina and pingua and rose and the bears etc etc. more time to develop and build story-line around them instead of moving from the earlier episodes (frankly more interesting) mob and gang plots. like if those were the stakes instead of “oh, so there’s two big unkillable canines with lasers” we would’ve had time to see more of those characters really shine. especially considering her ties with the city’s worst, maybe some backstory, some dynamic-building, a clearer view of how the city’s gangs worked. I DON’T KNOW, I just think the mob plots were more enjoyable to watch than the silver wolf plot. we could’ve had the time to learn more about her….. cries so loud.

song i associate with them: mitski brand new city…. “but if I gave up on being pretty I wouldn’t know how to be alive.” “i think my ways are wearing me down.” YEAH. yeah. yeah. losing momentum and who she is by staying in this role that she’s kept up for so long. my brain. scrambled egg.

favorite picture of them: BEAR WITH ME HERE HAJAHJSHSJ. limiting myself to TWO images.

[id: an image of marie from the show. she stands in the woods, lit by purple. she appears mid-jump, eyes glowing blinding white, a confident smile on her face. end id.]

I KNOW WHAT I SAID about how she is extremely cowardly and not the heaviest of hitters but this? this scene? immediately followed by jumping out the way of a CROSSBOW BOLT…. man.

[id: a scene from the manga showing marie and shirou. marie sits on a patio surrounded by potted plants, shirou standing slightly in front of her, studying an aerosol container with a somber expression. marie smiles and says “ah-ah~ be careful.” in the panel beside it, she puts a finger to her chin and grins, saying “it can be used as a weapon in high concentrations.” end id.]

FIRST OF ALL. LIVE RAII REACTION. second. love how she’s smiling here, she clearly loves talking about these kind of things. also that’s flirtingggg she’s flirtingggg, might as well have asked them if they were free friday. fuck that actually, could’ve kissed them on the MOUTH and then continue to tell them that they could totallyyyyy spray that can in their eyes sureee. also she’s pretty I also like that about this panel, she’s pretty.

ask game!!

[pilothusband]

Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you. 

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case. 

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle. 

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen @vanillabeanlattes @knivesareout​ @fastandfeminist @phrog-seeds @janebby​ @xoxo-callie​

[blissfulalchemist]

“looking extremely DILFy today!” + lance xx

Stella....my dear Stella. Thank you so much for allowing me this opportunity to write such a line. This piece also feature’s @belorage​’s sons. (Thank you as always for allowing me to borrow them for shennanigans)

No warnings. Short and sweet at 1.1k

Lance loves her, he cares for her, but he’s starting to regret enabling all her made up holidays. Well more Cat’s desire for any excuse to celebrate, something she claims is simply in her blood. This is the third big celebration in the last two months and honestly Lance doesn’t even think he could have kept up with her and the boys in his younger days. What were they even celebrating this time around again?

“Cheers! To the return of the prodegel son!” No one else in the bar joined her, save for Wes who was also well into a drunken state. Raf groaned, poor guy fresh off two months of flight training was hoping to at least have a few hours to himself before needing to take care of his friends. “I don’ think ya know jus’ how muched you’re missed around here Raffy,” Cat slurs, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“I am fairly certain it is only you and Wes, Conejito,” he says, patting her hand.

“Someone’s gotta stop us from doing stupid,” Wes says with a smirk, finishing off the latest glass, “Lance here needs relief now and then.”

Cat nods, giving a small hum, “Exactly. Wess and I have, uhm,” she sets her drink down counting on her fingers, “I don’t know what would you say Wes? Two? Two brain cells.”

“More like one right now,” Raf mumbles, “If that.”

She shoots him a small glare, waving him off, “Jerkface.” 

“Think it’s about time to cut you off kid,” Lance says, plucking the glass from her hands, “Same with you boy,” Wes rolls his eyes when Lance points to him.

“Ha! You got called boy,” Cat teases.

“Cat,” Lance warns.

She holds her hands up, “Okay, okay. I’ll play nice.” A round of water is brought to them, Cat’s eyes fixating on the ice as she stirs, “Hey Lance, you wanna know something?” All three men pause, holding their breath, “I cannot understand why you’re, well at your age, still single.”

“You got a date in mind for him, Catnip,” Wes snorts.

Lance runs a hand down his face, “Look I appreciate you tryin’ kid, but-.”

“No, no. Hear me out,” she says, shaking her hand out when she slams it down on the table. “Lance, buddy, you-you are in like the prime of your life. You gotta jus’ be out there! Going out an’ getting some.”

“Oh no. I see where this is going,” Raf whispers.

Wes puts a finger to his lips, “Shh, jus’ let it happen, Raf.”

“So tonigh’ just go off and leave us. Go and get ya self a lady friend,” Cat leans more on the table, the structure wobbling beneath her, face growing serious, “and get laid.” Wes presses his lips together holding back the snickering as she continues. “I mean, come on Lan’e, just look at you,” she gestures up and down the older man’s body, “You came out here tonight looking ah-maze-ing! And! I might add, looking extremely, like off the charts DILF-y tonight, Lance.” Cat jumps back from the sprayed water Raf and Wes release with her words, most of the spray coming from Wes’ direction, “Wessy!”

The two younger men burst out into laughter, while a very quiet and slightly stunned Lance takes a deep breath closing his eyes. “In-in case,” Wes tries to whisper between his laughing, “In case you didn’t know, DILF stands for ‘Dad I’d like to-‘.”

“I know what it means, kid,” Lance hangs his head, “That term is older than you know.”

“I’m serious!” Cat pleads, facing Lance head on, “Cuss if I didn’t knows you, Lance, I’d wanna try and take you home.”

Raf leans over the table, hiding his face, shoulders shaking, “Fuck, am I glad I listened to you for once Wes.”

“Didn’t know she’d go an’ say that!”

“How-how many drinks has she had?” Raf asks before tallying them off silently, “Oh yeah she’s not gonna remember saying that tomorrow.”

“I’d rather none of us remember this,” Lance says with a sigh.

Cat stands suddenly, hand covering her mouth, “I gotta go.” Her beeline for the bathroom turns into more of an arc as she stumbles and knocks someone over, the door slamming behind her. Lance glances at Mary May who’s cleaning a glass shaking her head, At least you have the authority to make her clean it.

“Perfect, she start round two when she’s done,” Wes says, finishing the last of his water.

“Are you serious?” Raf asks, the laughter from his voice gone, “You’re going to just keep going?”

“Well it’s only eleven,” he holds the ice filled glass, “and I did just have some water.”

“That doesn’t count as being responsible.”

“Tomato, to-mah-to.” Wes drums his fingers a moment, eyes catching one of the security cameras in the corner, “Oh I think I can get a video of it for ol’ Catnip. Imma cop it should work.” Wes is out of his seat and at the bar before they can stop him, quickly calling over Mary May.

“God those two just,” Raf shakes his head.

“They’re drunk right now. Just having some fun,” Lance chuckles.

“Still can’t believe she said that to you.”

“Not the first time that’s happened,” Lance says with a shrug, Raf’s eyes going wide, “Sage’s wife said something similar while drunk on wine once.”

Raf gives a slow nod, “At least you can be a good sport about it all.”

Lance chuckles, “You regret those two meeting?”

The younger man gives a snort, “Not like I could have stopped it.” Raf finishes off the last of his drink, “Lord help this town should those two ever combine their genetics.”

“Hey what I have I told you!” The two men look up at Mary May’s shouting, “You can’t smoke in here!”

“I ain’t gonna smoke it! Just don’t wanna smell it,” Wes responds, disappearing into the bathroom.

Lance stands, pulling out his wallet, “An’ on that note, I’m gonna call it a night.”

“Wait,” Lance drops a few twenties on the table, “You’re leaving?”

“Yep,” he nods towards the bathroom, “Like the kid said, you’re my relief.”

“Lance, I know you claim yourself an old man but-.”

“Oh just a warning, Wes slipped last time he was made to help Cat.”

Raf groans, “You’re really just going to leave me alone with them?”

He gives a sharp nod putting on his jacket, “You’re turn. And that’s an order soldier.”

Lance turns on his heel to the door hearing Raf call out, “I’m higher rank you know!”

“Good night, Rafael! Have fun!”

[internalsealpanic]

Better Die Than Doubt

Summary:  You wince knowing he’s already noticed. You feel the tiniest bit more at ease as he approaches your booth but it didn’t stop your eyes from flickering and searching for something off in the environment. The creeping sense of being watched trails up your spine. You’re sure.

A/n: To no one’s shock, this entire fic was unplanned. I was possessed by the urge to make it (translation: I got the urge to write this and one of my enablers said do it).  This story should be treated more or less as a horror story. Nothing is being glorified here except how dorky Jason is. That being said,  PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS. This fic contains quite a few triggering things and I really don’t want you to be blindsided.  Also thanks to @knightfall05x for helping me write this whole thing. Thanks to @batarella (HOE) for action writing tips.

Warnings: graphic violence, stalking, emotional manipulation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drugging, nongraphic description of rape, and rape aftermath 

masterlist

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes. You could practically feel the oncoming headache the way you could sense someone coming down the hall. This is what happens when you’re running on just 5 hours of restless sleep for the last few days. This headache was also not helped by the fact that this was your fifth coffee in the past 30 minutes. You probably should not be drinking this much caffeine this late but intelligent decisions weren’t exactly your strong suit this week. You rub the sides of your forehead feeling another wave of nausea. 

 You check the time again and groan.  It’s been one-and-a-half hours since your agreed upon time had lapsed and yet one Jason Peter Todd was nowhere to be seen. You curse, nerves edging, and mind fraying.  To be perfectly fair to him, he is a busy guy, vigilante, and all. You understood that fairly well- and this was sudden to say the least. You can’t really fault him for being a bit late but the long wait was ratcheting up your anxiety. Again, the coffee didn’t help but considering it was the only thing you could keep down since last night, you didn’t have much choice. 

 Last night. 

 Your stomach tumbled. You cup your hand over your mouth feeling your coffee traveling back up your esophagus. You let out a long exasperated breath, letting yourself sink into the booth. You look out the window, eyes flickering wildly searching for Jason. Your hands tighten around your mug. The feeling of being watched made you bristle. 

 Jason, well, Jason wasn’t hard to spot. The man was 6 feet 4 inches of pure muscle and leather. Having a handsome face and a ‘fuck you’ look in his eyes also helped.  In short, the man was hard to ignore. You wave weakly to him as he dismounts his bike, a gesture far too small for your usual bombastic self. Jason’s smarmy smile greets you as he returns the gesture with his gloved hand. The motion is slow and cautious, rickety in a way. You wince knowing he’s already noticed. You feel the tiniest bit more at ease as he approaches your booth but it didn’t stop your eyes from flickering and searching for something off in the environment. The creeping sense of being watched trails up your spine. You’re sure. 

 “Jesus, y/n, you look like Timbo” Jason chuckles sliding into the booth his green eyes shining with scrutiny. You look at him flatly not having enough energy to properly respond to his jab. He winces seeing your lack of reaction. “Rough night, huh?” He asks flagging down a waitress, who looked quite pleased to get away from her previous table.  

 You nod weakly, slowly as if the fact that it had been a rough couple of days had just sunk in. “Yeah,” you reply, your voice small and a little threadbare. You drum your fingers against your increasingly cold mug. The waitress sets a couple of warm mugs in front of you. Her soft smile makes you uneasy. You and Jason mutter a thanks as she tells you to wave her over if you need anything else. Her warm brown eyes boring into the stark purple bruise on your face. You shrink and smile sheepishly at her.

 “I’m fi-”

 “I am going to throw these sugar packets at you if you say you’re fine.”

 “Damn, ok, Mr.Kettle,” You laugh. His concern startles a genuine laugh out of you. You’re sincerely surprised how lively the sound that comes out of you is. “You know if you keep sounding like that, Jay, you’re gonna wreck the whole stone-cold badass thing you got going,”

 “Y/n..”

 You huff running your hand through your disheveled hair, trying in vain, to soothe your mind. What was the best way to put it? You swallowed, gathering your lapsing thoughts. “Sooo uh-” The collar of your shirt suddenly felt tight around your neck. “-I-” You breathe. “-I found around 4 or 5 of Blackmask’s boys and Deathstroke-No, I’m not shitting you- in my- my apartment for- well- the third time in the last two months, can I crash at your place? Just ‘til I find a new place. Oh and also how do I get rid of them?”

  He blinks as his brain takes its sweet fucking time digesting what you had just said.  He leans back groaning and running his hands over his face. He looks like he’d like to deck you if he wasn’t too busy being concerned for your welfare. You shrink again, feeling bad for springing it on him. The decision to leave out the gory details of your hectic week suddenly felt like the wisest choice but you had no doubt he’ll get it out of you at some point. 

 “I’ll skip the obvious ‘why did you wait three times before moving’ question because I feel like I’m probably going to get an aneurysm from your answer,”  Your reasoning wasn’t quite that stupid. You were mucking about Sionis’s operation. The fucker decided to branch out his little enterprise into your city and like hell, you were gonna leave well enough alone. After you had set fire to one of his warehouses, you thought that would explain the False Facers. But Deathstroke? Deathstroke was a mystery. You’ve also been mucking about his business but you two have always been civil if not friendly. Frenemies of sorts, you guessed. You’ve been encountering him a lot in the last few days. You had figured that Blackmask had hired him but considering he threw two men out of your apartment window last night, you’re not entirely sure.  You make an affronted noise that Jason elects to ignore. 

 “What did they do?”

 “Aside from necessitating a visit to IKEA?  Nothing.”

 “Did they take anything? Leave a message?”

 “Nope, nothing-” You furrow your brow trying to recall. You shake your head. “-They just made sure I knew they broke in.” You add, shrugging your shoulder. You wince at the movement. Your shoulder still aches from being hit with a bat. Jason’s shoulders shift, moving as if to reach out to you but stops himself. Instead, he continues with his line of questioning. “Sweetheart, there’s gotta be something missing.” 

 You frown, biting your cheek. Jason rests his chin on his hand, green eyes watching you and urging you to think back. It was either the weight of his gaze or the lack of sleep that was making it hard to recall. You close your eyes and catalog your belongings, analyzing the mental picture you have like a crime scene like how he taught you months ago, breaking it down into the smallest pieces of information and bringing it back into a bigger picture.  Still, nothing. Nothing of note was missing. You shake your head and shrug your uninjured shoulder. Jason glares at the immobile one. You shake your head silently telling him it wasn’t from last night which just made him clench his jaw. 

 “Evidence?”

 You shake your head.  He frowns baffled. 

 “Tech?”

 You shake your head again. 

 “Anything personal?” He asks jokingly. 

 “I-” A cold horror washes over you trailed by embarrassment. Your vibrator had been missing and so were a couple of your lingerie sets. You feel your stomach drop to the floor. “Oh god, Jay- I- Please, let me stay with you.” 

 “And have them steal my stuff?” He chuckles. 

 “Please, Jay, like you have anything worth stealing.” Jason frowns at you scrutinizing your face. You level him a glare but it was more in an effort to fight down a blush than anything venomous. Jason’s jaw unclenches and his face breaks into a shit-eating grin. “What color was it?”

 “Wha-”

 “Bzzzzzzzt ” 

 If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. Heat climbs up your spine. Your mouth felt dry. 

 “Well, what color was it, sweetheart?” Jason drawls, his voice dropping an octave. You shiver but bristle just as quickly. You bite your cheek and glare at him. “HA. HA. HA. Funny, Todd.”

 “Was it Red Hood Red?” Jason teases, winking and raising his cup of coffee to his lips. 

 “Nightwing blue” You deadpan. Jason coughed into his drink.  You preen with satisfaction. 

 “Does it make stupid puns while you go at it? ”

 “Yup,” You say, the ‘p’ popping. “That’s part of the appeal.” You joke smiling into your mug.  Jason snorts. “How is that supposed to be sexy?”

 You shrug, a sharper less tired smile cutting across your features. “Dunno man. Nightwing is pretty sexy if you ask me.” You wink.  

 Jason makes a fake gagging noise. Well, it seems fake with how theatrical the gesture is but with bats? You never could tell. You roll your eyes and giggle.  Jason’s shoulders loosen at your bubble of laughter, his face slipping into one of his sheepish smiles. “In all seriousness, y/n, you can stay at my place.”

 You smile at him, your usual fluorescent smile. 

Click

 Click

 Click

 A man from across the street watches you intently through the lens of a camera. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Slade throws the photos across Roman’s desk, each glossy piece of paper containing a candid photo of you looking increasingly frayed and anxious.  

 Roman marvels at how your usually larger than life figure shrank into your puffy coat, how small and malleable and inexperienced you looked. He notes the panicked look in your eyes in every one of the photos and savors it. He couldn't wait to see it for himself. 

 In one photo, you're looking over your shoulder as you enter your office building. 

 In one, you’re tracing circles on a child’s hand with your thumb,  beaming brightly as you told some wild tale to distract the child. 

 In another, you're slumped in your desk chair as you think over a case looking absolutely exasperated but determined. 

 In yet another one, you're locking lips with a man, his hand trailing up your shirt. Roman made sure to give the man some swimming lessons a few weeks prior.  

 In the photo in Roman’s hand, you're at the emergency room looking like you haven't slept in 2 days. Your face was bruised and your clothes were torn in several places where Slade had managed to land a blow. Your delicate skin marred with cuts and trickling blood. Absolutely gorgeous.   

 He examines it closely. The photo was taken just a few hours ago. You look like you're going to cry but your shoulders and jaw are squared more frustrated than scared. There's a fire in your eyes that threatens to level the city. A thrill rides up his spine at the prospect of extinguishing it. 

 “This is why you wanted to throw my men out the window?”

 Slade hums. He shrugs and the edge of his lips curl into a smile. “It was the only way to convince the kid that we’re both after her-” His eye drifts to your face. Appraising but impassive. “The kid’s scared out of her mind and exhausted at this point.”

 Slade had a point. Roman had to give him that. It wouldn’t be obvious to the casual observer but it would be plain as day to anyone like Roman who had been studying you for a while. You weren’t quite as meticulous with your appearance as Roman thought you should be (He would work on that later) but the dishevelment in your appearance was obvious. The slight dip in your shoulders in place of the prim posture that you usually employed was a blatant indication of your weariness. And the falter in your smile, the flickering in your eyes, and the number of times you let yourself bite your cheek showed the cracks in your fearless image. 

 Who knew weeks upon weeks of chaos could weather Minos City’s own budding hero? 

 In the photo next to Roman’s hand, your laughing face is stark and lively against the drab atmosphere of the diner, bubbling laughter carving life into your exhausted features making you look more like the shining paragon your city has come to rely on. The man sitting in front of you is laughing too. The sharp edges of his grin softened by the fondness in his eyes. It was hard not to recognize him even with such a foreign expression plastered onto his face.  Roman crushes the photo in his hand. 

 “BUT NOW SHE’S WITH THAT SCUMBAG RED HOOD”

 “And she’s now with the Red Hood. In his secluded safe house. Weakened and far from help. Most likely thinking that she’s safe under his protection and blissfully unaware of the tracker I put in her arm.”

 “I see… It seems like you are worth the pay.”

 Slade made no effort in hiding his smug grin.  

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 “Jay, I really am sorry about this.” You mumble for what seemed like the fifth time in the past half hour. 

 “I sincerely hope you’re apologizing for the fact that you neglected to tell me you had bruised ribs before getting on my bike and not the fact that you’re staying with me because two crazy assholes decided your place needed remodeling.” Jason exasperates, pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel kind of annoyed by the gesture but he did have a point especially with your city’s less than smooth roads. You were also pretty banged up. As it turns out, facing off against a bunch of goons plus a master assassin is not good for your health. You swore viciously under your breath. Now, you weren’t expecting Deathstroke to go easy on you despite your rapport but the guy really didn’t have to throw you around like a rag doll. Even with your power to adjust the odds, it was a miracle that you escaped intact. 

 “Well, Mr.Pot, you ride your bike all the time even with broken ribs.” You bite back. Jason rolls his eyes unaffected by the distilled venom in your voice.

  “Well, one of us is a stone-cold badass- ”

 “And the other is a sasquatch with a stick up his ass.” You sneer snatching the beer bottle from Jason. Your tone was far too fond and playful to have any actual bite. Jason chuckles at you and ruffles your hair before snatching it back and handing you a bottle of water.

 You huff taking the bottle from him and following him to the couch. He sits down on the couch patting the seat beside him. You plopped on to the couch, placing your sock feet on his lap. He grabs your ankles and throws your feet back at you. You just as quickly throw them back on and this time you do it with an absolutely delighted smirk on your face. “Rude,” He mumbles but doesn’t attempt to extricate you again. 

 “So Deathstroke, huh?” Jason starts, side-eyeing you over his beer. You adjust yourself to sit up a little straighter.

 “You mean the asshat who broke my favorite lamp last night?”

 “Who the hell has a favorite lamp?”

 “Me! And get to your point.”

 “Have you two- yanno?” Jason jokes, his eyebrows wiggling and hands gesturing vaguely. Your eyes grow wide and heat creeps up your neck and face. You scowl at Jason throwing a pillow at his face for good measure. He catches it with ease much to your frustration giving you his trademark triumphant grin. You kick at him with no real force. 

 “NO! What kind of soap opera shit is that?” You giggle into your drink. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. The guy was skilled and pretty witty.  You also had eyes and the man was handsome but something always felt strange about taking it further. You were civil but you kept your distance. 

 You pout at Jason again causing him to chuckle. “What? I’m just saying it’ll air out some tension~” He suggests winking. 

 “Oh my actual god, I hate you. I sincerely, truly hate you.” You laugh, kicking at his thigh. Jason makes an obviously fake hurt noise which draws out even more giggles out of you. Some tension in Jason’s shoulders releasing upon hearing the bubbly sounds. 

 “You speaking from experience, Jay?”

 Jason shakes his head and coughs. “Catwoman-” Cough. “Talia Al Ghul-” Cough. “Sorry, sweetheart, seems like I have a really bad cough this week.”  

 And that is how you spend the rest of the night questioning Bruce’s love life. 

“Food is in the fridge,” Jason says pointing to the said fridge which was sorely lacking magnets, sounding like a somewhat tired single parent. 

 “Do I look like I can keep anything down?”

 Jason snatches the water bottle you had abandoned on the side table next to the recliner. “With that big mouth of yours? Sure.” Jason teases lightly booping you on the nose with your water bottle. “Get some rest.”

 “Yes, mother” You sighed, burying yourself into the thick comforter he’d given you, crumpled water bottle in hand. He ruffles your hair. 

 “You know you’re safe here, right? ” The question startles you. You shift uncomfortably, pulling the comforter tightly around your shoulders. You shrug at him, not entirely certain how to answer. You know Jason’s safe house is, well, safe but you also thought your apartment was too. Your stomach twisted. 

 Jason squeezed your shoulder probably sensing the spiral of your thoughts. He smiles down at you, probably. It was hard to tell with the helmet.  

 “If you want, I can-”

 “No, Jay, I’ll be fine here. You can go on patrol. I’ll be fine. Promise.”

 The thing with Jason was that even when he was so big and bulky and hella intimidating, his empathy towards others had a bad habit of always shining through despite the layers of armor and sarcasm. You squeeze his hand, pressing little circles into his palm, and smile up at him. It was forced but it was the best you could do. Jason ruffles your hair again before letting go and making his way to the window. 

 “Get some sleep.”

 “Aye aye cap’n” You yawn settling into a slump on the couch. Jason can’t help but smile fondly at you.  You wave him a sleepy goodby before he sets off. 

You passed out on the couch, an old habit you never grew out of. You always slept on the couch when you felt uneasy. It may have been some sort of way to separate stress from your bedroom. It sure as shit wasn’t for safety reasons. Your equipment was dispersed throughout your apartment but your weapons were usually stowed away in your room. 

 You feel a hand running gently through your hair, smoothing away all your apprehension. 

 “Jay” You grouse, your hand halfheartedly swatting at the hand stroking your hair. You bury yourself further into the warmth of the comforter feeling the need to shrink away from the touch. You feel a soft prick on your neck.  

 Your eyes fly open.  

 Shit.

 The hand tangles in your hair. It throws you to the wall. The air is knocked out of your lungs. Your ribs scream. You scrabble to your feet. Your limbs fail you. They flail uselessly. Your breaths pick up. Your chest feels like it's caving. 

 "JAY" You shriek. “HELP.” A large hand grasps your throat. A rush of adrenaline kicks in. You thrash. You kick. Your hit lands. Another grasps your ankles. You scream. You swear viciously. Another grabs at your wrists. Something rough winds around your wrists and ankles. 

 The world tilts into an odd angle. Your head feels heavy so do your arms and your legs and everything. 

 "Jaaay" You slur, the air in your lungs becoming sluggish like everything else. "Jay" you sob again, knowing he wouldn't come. Not when he was so far away. 

 "Shut up you …..  bitch" You feel a swift kick to your stomach. It barely registers above the haze. 

 "Hey man-"

 "What? The …. man said we …… rough her up."

 "We can?"

 "Yeah, ……, said so"

 Your eyes blink, stupid, and uncomprehending.  Distantly, you hear yourself grunting and whimpering. You can feel their blows but your body is too far away, too inaccessible. It was strange to physically feel yourself drift away. 

.

.

.

 Roman traces the sun shaped scar radiating on your shoulder with a leather-clad hand. The one shot he’d managed to land on you the first time you’d stormed one of his warehouses. You were all cocksure and quick wit and boisterous laughter. You really had the devil’s own luck but it seems to have run out. Not that Roman’s got any complaints. Not when he’s got you laying at his feet,  tied up and vulnerable. 

 He crouches down, hand on his chin.  His eyes roam appreciatively over your sleeping form, appraising you like a premium cut of meat. You look pretty against the black silk sheets he’d chosen.  He sighs content with his prize. He traces the tip of his knife over your cheek, a dark purple bruise maring your features stark against the stainless surface of the blade. Slade really was quite careless when handling you. Not that Roman has any plans on being any gentler.  

 He lets his blade drift down, trailing down your neck down to the flimsy protection of your oversized shirt.  Your steady breaths falter. You keep your eyes shut trying to gather more information but it’s hard not to focus off the tip of the blade cold against your warm skin even as the blade cuts through the thin fabric of your shirt. A large hand grasps your face roughly. 

 “I know you're awake, baby-” You blanch still not opening your eyes. The grip on your jaw tightens. You grin like a madman. “It's rude to keep daddy waiting.” 

 “Sorry, Sionis, I was really hoping not to have to wake up  you’re ugly mug.” You sneer, voice thick and raspy with sleep but still full with your trademark confidence. Roman looks more amused than irritated.  Your body and mind are still at the cusp of sleep. You wriggle and almost cry out with joy when you feel them move. You mind the hand on your jaw and its tight grip. 

 “Baby, I won’t tell you a-” You spit in his face, cracking an eye open to see his reaction. A bloody grin spreads across your face like wildfire when you see the annoyance on his face. 

 “You’re going to regret that” He growls, wiping his face with a torn piece of your shirt. 

 “Oh please-” Something cracks across your jaw. 

 “The next time it’ll be the other end,” It takes a moment for your mind to catch on. You stare at the hilt of the blade for a moment before letting loose another smarmy grin. His violent reaction spurs you on. Yeah, you can definitely see why Jason thinks you’re going to age him twenty years. “Oh please, You like my face too much for that.”

 “You really wanna test that?”

 “Nope,” You say, spitting into his eye and landing a punch square in his face. You cackle like a madwoman when he goes down. You don’t bother hiding the delighted chirps that escape your chest. 

 Being petty, you give him a swift kick to the face before dashing towards the door.  You launch yourself, feeling like you can fly. The copper taste in your tongue almost feels sweet. 

 Your hand grasps the door when a hand tangles itself in your hair. 

 Roman throws you back onto the mattress, the springs digging into your back. You scratch and claw and thrash against the large hand wrapped around your throat. You snarl as Roman leans closer, his body pinning yours against the mattress, his weight immobilizing your fatigued limbs. A sweet-smelling cloth covers your mouth and nose, you gasp in surprise, inhaling the scent. Your mind is already sluggish by the time it catches on. 

 Your vision dims. 

 You feel hollowed out. 

 Your limbs fall away, arms drooping and pliant against the silk-covered mattress. The cloth feels too much against your skin. Vaguely, you feel horror prickling up your spine or maybe it was just the springs again. 

 Roman pulls away. You think you breathe a sigh of relief, feeling the weight of him lifted. He straddles your body, grinning down at you. Your mouth falls open to say something. You want to say that you curse him out or that you threaten him. The sound you make is small. Your tongue feels too heavy.  No, something is pressing it down, you think. 

 Above you, Roman is a towering colossus. You’re vaguely aware of the shifting of his hips. He removes his gloved hand from your mouth and caresses the side of your face with mock gentleness. His movements are sluggish and syrupy.  You make another noise when you realize to some degree of horror that isn’t. Your mind felt heavy and useless. 

 He snaps his fingers. The sound is dull like it's contending with water. A muffled set of steps approaches you. A man, you realize. You don't think you’ve noticed him before. His dark shape is messy and incomprehensible. A red dot flashes stark against his form. The mechanical sounds of a shutter drift in and out of your mind. You turn your head back to Roman at the sound of shifting fabric.

 Above you, Roman, already without his suit jacket, loosens his tie, eyes staring hungrily at you. The pit of your stomach feels painfully cold. You blink at him stupidly. He chuckles, grasping your chin to make sure you’re looking at him. You protest against his touch.

 “Don’t worry, baby, you’ll be the star of our little show like the filthy attention whore you really are. ” He laughs. It rumbles like thunder in your ears. 

 The world falls away. 

Click

Click

Click

.

.

.

.

.

One 

 Two

 .

.

.

.

One

 You feel a prick on your neck. 

 Hot breaths fan against your face. 

 Your body is too warm. 

 You don’t want to know why. 

 Twenty-five, you continue counting. 

 You feel fabric shift against you. 

 Something sharp digs itself into your flesh.  

 One 

 Two

 Three

 .

.

.

 Three?

 Something’s crushing your windpipe.

 Your body is aching. You’re not entirely sure whether it’s from use or disuse and by who. 

 “Good girl”

 Thirty

 .

.

.

 Twelve

 There’s something scraping against your flesh. 

 Is it a knife?

 Hot pants fan against your skin. 

 Teeth 

 Four

.

.

.

.

Fifty-six

 “Boss, I-.... going a …. bit too far?”

 Smack!

 “Do …. You…. to think?” 

 Two sixty-eight

 A hand strikes you. You think your jaw is broken. It hurts but then again everything hurts. All you can do is take it and whimper. 

 Tears sting against your face.  

  “That’s right. Just like that. Like that, you little whore.” 

 Your body is warm again. 

 You still don’t want to know. 

.

.

.

.

Two

 Two

 Two?

 You’ve counted two before. 

 You blink. 

 The haze of your mind lifts. 

 The coldness of the room seeps in your bones. You’re bare. You take stock of yourself, running your hands over your skin. Everything is still there. 

 Everything and a few other things. You let disgust and shame roll over you. A sob tears its way out of your chest. Your breath picks up. You feel your mind slipping. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, calling your mind back and steadying yourself. 

 You take stock again. This time moving your limbs and jangling your joints.  They were weak but workable. You’re surprised to find yourself unbound aside from the collar around your neck. You suppose Roman’s confident in his drugs. How long have you been here? You press lightly against your neck, feeling the higher than normal pulsing of your artery. You shift yourself waking your legs up. 

 You stiffen, gooseflesh spreading over your skin as light filters into the room through the door. Your eyes snap shut, stinging from the sudden intrusion of light. The pulse beneath your fingers jackrabbits. You think you’ll keel over. 

 “Shhhhhh”

 All the strength in your veins floods out, leaving a feeling of cold horror in its place. You scream or you try.  Your body feels impossibly rigid. Roman stalks towards you, his footfalls slow and deliberate and too loud. Your heart jumps up to your throat with each step. You inch yourself away from him, drawing yourself up to make yourself feel bigger. He coos at how adorable you are, trying to look defiant. The mattress dips under his weight. Your mind begins to slip away from you again. The world falls away from you. You anchor it, digging your nails into your palms. He cups your face, thumb caressing your bottom lip. You glower at him and bite out something witty. He laughs amusement lighting up his features, the sound grates against your ears. 

 “Not gonna fight back?” He taunts, pressing his thumb down on your bottom lip. Your body recoils but then goes slack as he runs his hand up and down your side. Shame blankets you but the fear etched into you keeps you still. 

 Roman loosens his tie. 

 Your mind falls out of your reach. 

 “Such a good little slut.” He murmurs against your lips.

 NO

 You wanted to say. 

 Instead, your mind starts counting again even as you hear the rustle of fabric. 

 .

.

.

. 

 BANG

 A gunshot rings through the thick atmosphere of the room. 

 Roman curses. 

 His men stampede. 

 Another round of shots fire. 

 Something- No, no.  Someone tears Roman off of you. 

 “Deathstroke?” You croak, your voice sounding foreign and absurdly brittle. 

 “Do you know anyone else walking around looking like this, kid?”

 “Ravager” You snark, lips twitching into a smile. He rolls his eyes underneath his mask. The familiarity of the exchange breathes life into your body. Roman’s hand grips your wrist with bruising intensity. Your breath catches. 

 No. No. No.

 The word loops in your head like a constant rat-tat. 

 Slade’s foot makes contact with Roman’s head, the force of it unnecessary but satisfactory. The sounds of bone-cracking fill the air. The man falls uselessly to the grimey floor. He shoots him with a couple of rounds for good measure, each shot instilling a pang of finality in the back of your mind. 

 You scrabble towards Slade, wide-eyed and shallow breathed.  You cling to Slade as he bundles your body in silken sheets.  He hoists you easily into his arms. You bury your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder, closing your eyes, the image of Roman’s bloody body on the floor pressed into your mind. You sob in relief. Your hands clasping onto Slade, white-knuckled and shaking.

  "I've got you, sweetheart," He rumbles, running his hand through your hair soothingly. The tight knots in your body, loosen. You whimper a quiet thank you. “I’ve got you.”

 You lift your head only to see Roman twitch. 

 Your breathing falters. 

 Fear pricks your spine. 

 Your mind falls away from you again. 

 Distantly, you feel Slade’s grip on you tightens. 

 Distantly, you hear him murmur something. 

 Everything is too far away. 

 Your eyes blink sluggishly. The world becomes dimmer with each blink. 

 .

.

.

.

 A warm spray of water drizzles down over your aching skin. Your open wounds sting but the warm water pooling around you soothes the aches of your bruised flesh. Your eyes focus on the soft off-white of the tile on the wall opposite you. You don’t let yourself about the thin, rusty red film swirling in the water. The air in the room is thick with steam and the scent of lavender. 

 The absence of grime on your skin makes you feel lighter and gauzy and immaterial. You felt naked and obscene like you had been taken apart and now someone was examining pieces of you. You almost miss it. 

 “Lean back” Slade grumbles as he lathers your hair with some lavender concoction the hotel provided. Your body follows automatically, eagerly, obediently. You tell yourself you’re just tired. You tell yourself nothing’s wrong with your response. You tell yourself you’re ok. You wince. The warm water around you shifts. You hear it splash against the tile. You flinch at how loud it sounds. You take a deep breath and lean into his touch. He’s handling you delicately as though you would fall apart any second. You might. 

 Blinking away tears, you watch his face, aware that by leaning back, you’d be giving him a good view of the hickies, bite marks, and knife wounds Roman ‘gifted’ you. There’s a slight twitch in the corners of his lips. He must be disgusted with you too. You want to sink into the hot water and let it burn you anew, but you don’t trust yourself not to drown.   

 You close your eyes as another spray of warm water pours over you. You melt into it hoping it’s enough to wash the last few days- weeks?- away. 

.

.

. 

 Your hands grasp his face, pulling him towards you. His hands brace against the tub, keeping him from falling in with you. Your arms loop around his neck, your hot breath fanning against his lips. You press your lips against him, searching and wanting. For what exactly? Comfort? Safety? Stimulation? His lips press lightly against yours, not quite a kiss. Slade actually looks taken aback. 

 The rest of the world floods back in. You peel away, your eyes wide with terror. “Shit- I’m- Fuck! Fuck! Shit, Slade, I- I’m sorry. I- Shit! I didn’t-” Your breathing ratchets up, becoming shallower as the pulsating in your ears grow louder. There’s a tightness growing in your chest that makes you think your ribcage is about to implode. You cover your face with your hands not caring how it didn’t help your shallowing breaths. You can’t look at him. You just can’t. You know you’re disgusting. 

 Your body wants to come apart, dissolve, and if it can, evaporate. You can’t breathe. You curl into yourself, into the water. A hand grabs at your wrist. You flinch. The hand carefully pries your hand away, forcing you to uncurl. Slade’s other hand cups your face gently, guiding you to look him in the eye. The lack of disgust in his face rattles you.

 His thumb brushes against your lips making your stomach twist and your spine curl. He dips his head closer to yours. You kiss him eagerly. He lets out a pleased hum and smiles against your lips. Something cold licks at the bottom of your stomach but it’s overtaken by the need for connection, to fill in what had been hollowed out.   

You press closer to him than strictly necessary as you watch the news, chewing on your cheek.  He pulls you close, shifting you on to his lap. You don’t protest, eyes glued to the TV. 

 “Businessman, Roman Sionis, was found with several gunshot wounds to the stomach in one of his warehouses here in Minos City. He is now in stable condition. Authorities say...”

 Your jaw falls slack in mute horror. Your stomach tumbles to the floor.  You’re hyperventilating. Your teeth are digging into your cheek, you taste copper. Your mind spirals back into the room, back to the dirty mattress, back to Roman. 

 Strong arms wrap around you, stilling your trembling body against a broad chest. Your body relaxes a fraction. You curl into him, the buzz of nervous energy settling into a quieter panic. 

 “You’re safe with me, you know that don’t you, sweetheart?” Slade says tracing circles into your palm. You lean your head into his shoulder. You nod easing against him. “I’ll never let that monster anywhere near you.” He promises, pressing a kiss into your hair. A little sob wrenches free of your imploding chest. 

 Slade keeps his face buried in your hair even as you fall into a lull. It was the only way to hide the triumphant grin spreading across his face. 

 “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take good care of you.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/n: Thanks for reading. There’s a follow up to this because I can’t cope with bad endings. I had to promise myself a good second part to make the ending horrifying. 

The writing process for this fic was basically:

Me: I have this horrifying idea!

My brain: Yes but what if we put a little dork Jason in it. 

Me: I guess that wouldn’t hurt. 

Me: Ok I have written nearly 2k of dorky Jason where’s the other parts?

Brain: Uh what other parts?

Me: *sighs and spends the next few days spamming @knightfall05x*

taglist: 

@batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell

[foxy-exy]

Strange Engagement - Kevaaron

Prompt from here 09. we’re strangers who meet at a bar, get drunk, and wake up to announcements of our new engagement all over our social media - what did we do???

cw: alcohol use, blacking out, vomit mention, the vaguest suggestions of sexual content — also take note that sexual content happens while both of them are drunk, fyi

Finished this finally for a late bday present for @starsandgutters !!

Aaron does not get blackout drunk. Well, not anymore. It’s a rule he’s set for himself.

But damn if his recent breakup with Katelyn, who was supposed to be the love of his life, hasn’t hit him hard. And fuck if this man that took up residence next to him at the bar two hours ago isn’t infuriating enough to have Aaron’s pride on the fucking line here.

“You can’t take another,” snorts the asshole. Keegan. No, Kelvin. No…

“Fuck you, Kevin,” slurs Aaron, and feels the world spin a little, but the name is right. That’s right. Kevin Day. Some kind of sports guy, Aaron thinks he’s seen him on TV sometime or another. But that doesn’t mean shit for his ability to out-drink Aaron.

Aaron can so take another shot.

“Prove it,” Kevin sneers, and Aaron growls.

Aaron smacks the bar top, and the bartender, Roland, skeptically eyes them both, but Aaron’s a regular and they’re old friends, so Aaron merely has to glare back and gesture impatiently for Roland to slide another shot his way.

Aaron downs it without pause, and there’s laughter, hooting, from onlookers he didn’t know he had. He swallows against the burn and flicks a glance to more strangers, grinning and nodding at him, flashing thumbs up and pumping fists. He manages a jerky nod before spinning back to Kevin, swaying slightly. “I did it. Can you, big shot?”

Not the wittiest one liner he’s ever delivered, especially with all his syllables melding together as his mouth refuses to work with him, but Kevin also seems slightly off-balance as he turns to Roland, nodding for his next round.

“I absolutely should cut you both off before you start brawling,” sighs Roland, pouring another shot. “You’re lucky I’m an enabler.”

“Three more,” blurts Aaron, as Kevin gulps down his tiny glass. “Unless you can’t handle it.”

“You’re tiny, you’re the one who should be worried,” spits Kevin, though it’s hoarse through the alcohol.

“Oh my god,” Roland says, as he pours the shots and shoves them in front of them both, walking away with his hands up. “I’m done with you both for tonight.”

“Bet you you’ll still tap out before me,” Aaron says challengingly, narrowing his eyes up at Kevin, watching the too-tall man narrow his own green eyes back, the lights of the club catching on the tiny number 2 tattoo on his cheekbone, the tendrils of black hair springing free from his quiff. Aaron blinks away his wandering gaze, realizing Kevin is lifting another shot to his lips, and reaches to do the same, the fire of competition spurring him on.

The trickles of light and sound filter through warm, hazy drunkenness. Aaron is wrapped up in something skin-hot and sweat-sticky, hair between his fingers and another pair of lips melded to his and he cannot think, the wall unyielding at his back and the floor unreachable as his legs wrap around hips.

“Fuck,” mumbles a male voice, into his mouth, and Aaron hums in agreement, lazily tightening his hold and letting a hand fall down the back of his makeout partner, digging his fingernails into a crisp shirt and scratching.

The man — Aaron lets his eyes flutter open as the pair of them part for a moment of breath — Kevin, Kevin Day, shudders against him at the rough treatment and lets his head fall to where Aaron’s shoulder meets his neck, mouthing at the skin there, and Aaron responds with his own shiver.

He falls back into Kevin’s lips with a tug at his hair to drag him back up, and Aaron blacks back out at the kiss.

“We should get married.”

“That’s so stupid, that’s a terrible idea. Just because you’re hot doesn’t mean —”

“But you’re getting over your ex too. You know what would stick it to our exes? Getting fucking engaged.”

“You’re out of it, I can’t get publicly engaged to a man. I’d get os — ostra — I’d get bad press.”

“Fuck that, who cares. Buy me a ring, asshole, you’re rich.”

“Fuck, fine. Fine, I will, if you do that again.”

“Shit, Kevin.”

Aaron’s head pounds a terrible rhythm, and he thinks perhaps he attempted to drink sand last night. There’s no other way his mouth and throat would be this awful, gritty texture.

The nausea that hits a moment later threatens to bring up whatever he had last swallowed, and he spills out of bed to stumble-sprint to the toilet.

When he finally hobbles back to the bedroom with the speed of an especially slow zombie, he stops dead when he finds the form of another person burrowed into his pillow.

Kevin Day groans when Aaron pulls the pillow away from him, shielding his eyes from the bedroom light, and squints up at him like he, too, is not sure how he got there.

“A-Aaron?” he finally ventures.

“Congrats, you remember my fucking name. Get out of my bed.”

Kevin does not, in fact, get out of his bed, simply blinks down at his own shirtlessness, lifts the sheet to apparently check on whether he is wearing pants. (Aaron is suspiciously only in his boxers, and he suspects Kevin is too.) “What happened last night?”

“Guess I was stupid and lonely enough to bring you back to my apartment, for some reason.” Aaron rolls his eyes. Why he allowed himself to reach that drunken point in the first place is beyond him. He can’t remember the last time he allowed himself to actually check another man out, let alone…

He realizes suddenly that the terribly shrill ringing he’s heard several times now is his phone, muffled underneath fabric somewhere on the floor of his room. Someone’s calling him.

It takes him several minutes to find the source of the noise, but the mystery caller keeps redialing when the call drops. When Aaron recovers his phone, it’s with an awful sinking feeling that he sees TWIN MENACE blinking across the screen.

Andrew does not call him for no reason.

“Hello?” he mumbles into the phone, and there is an awful silence for a minute on Andrew’s end.

“Care to tell me, oh brother mine, what exactly happened that made you post what you did on Facebook last night?”

Aaron’s stomach drops yet lower. He feels dizzy. “What?”

“Nicky’s been calling you, and when you didn’t pick up, he started calling me. What the fuck did you do?”

“W-what did I do?” Aaron stabs the speakerphone button to pull his phone from his ear and navigate to Facebook. His notifications are blowing up, all over a photo he definitely doesn’t remember posting.

It takes a moment to load when he opens it, and the sound he makes when it does makes Kevin wince and cover his ears.

Kevin and Aaron are very deeply and disgustingly making out, and Aaron is holding a middle finger up to the camera. His left middle finger. And below that middle finger, a ring sits on his finger.

An engagement ring. That is still on his ring finger when Aaron looks down at it.

The caption reads, fuck y’all we’re getting married.

“You fucking proposed to me?” he yells at Kevin, who had been squinting one open eye at him, leaning forward to listen.

Kevin falls out of bed in a tangle of long limbs, with his own squawk. “What?”

“I have an engagement ring. I posted that we’re getting married. Oh my god.”

“Dumbass,” is barely audible from the phone speaker, and then the call disconnects.

“Wait,” Kevin mumbles, rubbing his head and trying to navigate sheets that are still wrapped around him. “Wait, no. You proposed to me. You started this. I know that much. I thought it was a bad idea.”

“Obviously not enough to not get me a ring.”

“Quiet,” Kevin pleads.

“What were we thinking?” Aaron tugs on his hair. He’s not sure how it took him so long to notice the ring’s presence in the first place, it feels unbearably heavy on his finger now.

“You wanted to get back at your ex. And mine. We both were upset about our breakups,” Kevin reasons out slowly, eyes fixing on nothing as he appears to search his memory. “We had a drinking competition, and then, we started dancing, and then venting about our exes, and then we started���making out. It gets pretty fuzzy, but. You said we should get married, I didn’t think so. But you, uh. Convinced me.”

“How do I delete this? Fuck.” The exponentially growing number of comments of absolutely everyone he knows on the Facebook post blurs in front of his eyes.

Whoa, that’s a surprise. Happy for you!

Who’s the fiancé???

Didn’t realize you were with this guy now. Congrats on the engagement!

 Classmates, coworkers, distant family, and…

Aaron, what the fuck.

“Shitshitshitshit.”

Aaron throws the phone in a knee-jerk reaction, his brain narrowing to the tiny profile picture on the screen. Katelyn.

Kevin catches the phone in the same instinctive way, eyes wide as he stares at Aaron.

“She knows. She knows.”

“Who?”

“My ex, my… Katelyn. She saw. She’ll never take me back now. God, she thinks we’re…”

“Did you think she was going to?” Kevin asks incredulously. Like he fucking knows anything about Aaron and Katelyn’s relationship.

“She could have realized! That we were good! That she missed me! She could have —” Aaron’s throat closes over, and he realizes with horror that he is probably about to cry.

“Aaron.” Kevin still looks sickly pale, maybe a little green around the edges, but he nonetheless kind of crawls across Aaron’s bedroom floor to sit in front of him. Now that he’s extricated himself from the sheets, Aaron can see that he is indeed only wearing a very small pair of boxer-briefs. “She wasn’t going to. You were complaining about how your relationship had been, towards the end. It’s good you broke up.”

Aaron swallows back a lump in his throat and blinks away burning, shoving his fist into Kevin’s chest. “Shut up.”

Kevin looks down and takes Aaron’s fist in his own hands, uncurling it and contemplating the ring he’d apparently bought last night as he plays with Aaron’s fingers absently. “I miss my ex too. But she wasn’t good for me. We weren’t… it wasn’t very healthy, how we got together. And we didn’t know how to be healthy once we got out of that situation either.”

“Now look at us,” Aaron huffs sarcastically. “Oh-so-healthily drunk engaged.”

Kevin’s lips twitching into a involuntary smile is unexpectedly attractive, and the dark eyebrow he raises pulls a snort from Aaron that morphs into a giggle, and then Kevin snickers, and then they’re both laughing and staring at this fucking ridiculous ring that’s caused way too much trouble.

“It’s gaudy,” Aaron announces, when they’ve laughed themselves out. “You have no taste.”

“It’s expensive,” Kevin protests, immediately up in arms. “Look at how many diamonds there are.”

“Oh, of course you’d think bigger is better,” Aaron snarks, and Kevin glares at him, and Aaron shoves him back, raising his own eyebrows, but he can’t drop the grin curling across his face.

“You weren’t complaining last night,” Kevin returns, but before Aaron can toss one more flirty line thinly veiled as an insult back at him, another ringtone sounds from across the room.

Kevin turns toward the sound too fast and groans, hand lifting to his mouth queasily as he picks his way over to his own pants to fish out his phone. It cuts off just as he reaches it, but Kevin blinks down at his own screen, looking a little too off-balance.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks.

“I think I… I think I posted something too. Christ.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine and good by you that I posted something, but when you’re the one making a fool of yourself, you think —”

“I could lose my contract.”

Aaron blinks. “Right. Playing…”

Kevin looks scandalized. “Exy? Do you not even know?”

“Forgive me for not knowing every detail of my fiancé’s life when I met you last night and forgot more than I remember of our encounter.”

Kevin appears slightly dead inside, face lit by countless popups his eyes flick through on screen. “My team manager has been texting me. If I lose my spot, I’m —”

 Aaron steps closer to peer at the texts, too. “Can they do that? That shouldn’t be allowed.”

Kevin turns a glazed gaze on him. “Exy is everything to me.”

Aaron feels a pang at the look, feels inexplicably compelled to fix it. “Well… we’re not even actually getting married, so it doesn’t matter, right? Just tell them that. Who cares?”

“It may be too late,” Kevin says in a terrible, numb voice, and Aaron is suddenly very deeply determined that it will not be too late to save his poor, sports-obsessed, asshole sort-of-fake fiancé’s career or so help him God.

“Give me that.”

“What are you doing?” Kevin asks helplessly as Aaron clicks through the frantic texts from Manager to the contact information.

“Setting the record straight,” Aaron says firmly, and hits the call button.

You can find more AFTG fics on my AO3, ihaveacleverfandomurl, linked in my bio!

[reaperlight]

Do you have any lawryght headcanons?

@greenpactbosmer Thanks for the ask!

Headcanons... ooh boy, well...

(Oh and I saw you had another ask there too but I think I may have misunderstood the prompt/what was being asked? In any case I should probablt edit the paragraphs of brain vomit that came out of that but until then here's more paragraphs of brain vomit, uh... sorry 😔)

Anyway...

Headcanons for lawryght can vary greatly from fic verse to fic verse but let's see curtent HC generally...

These three getting together in a canon-like universe...

The RyukxLight will either be established relationship or at the very least Ryuk is more helpful to Light and his plans than in canon to the point Light feels secure enough in his position so he can give L a chance and not feel like he has to kill him immediately so a relationship could actually develop between Light and L beyond "oh no, he's hot... I still have to kill him." (Also expect Light to be even more arrogant and insufferable because he thinks he's immortal and has the power of deathgod and anime on his side.)

Ryuk and Light getting together: And then they were roommates (oh my they were roommates) and there was only one bed--Shinigami don't really need to sleep but Light doesn't know that and the bed is comfy so Ryuk doesn't fell the need to tell him.

They are both extremely bored. Ryuk is absolutely fascinated with this human--he may not be on Light's side (or so he claims) but the entertainment value is beyond his wildest dreams. He is smitten, even if he doesn't admit it. If Light is curious about something hell try at least once... Or Light may be trying to get free Shinigami eyes out of him and they catch feelings.

L enters the picture... Ryuk doesn't mind sharing 1. Hes immortal and bored and... two interesting humans! This is so cool! 2. Shinigami don't have the same ideas about monogamy. 3. Headcanons about Ryuk vary depending on if rule 36 valid up to this point in the ficverse. (I.e. Chad!Ryuk vs. Virgin!Ryuk)

L and Ryuk--L is very disturbed to learn that his case actually has a supernatural component and is more leery of Ryuk than of Light at first. This lasts for all of the moment it takes to remember that Light is Kira and Ryuk is afraid of tennis balls.

After 5 minutes of soul searching, L can admit to himself he has a thing for monsters--both internal and external.

Assuming they are all alive and this takes place in early canon this shippable version of L is probably more interested in having fun then bringing Kira to justice. Either that or he has become disillusioned with the status quo or hurt and and wants revenge to the point that he's willing to entertain Light's way of doing things.

If its post series, maybe Ryuk is bored so goes looking for Light in Mu and ends up pulling both Light and L out of Mu because their souls are intertwined and once restored as humans or Shinigami or something shippable in the afterlife then it's just learning to rely on each other as they forge a new arrangement in the Shinigami realm.

Top/bottom it's not assigned seating Regardless of bedroom positions or what arrangement they have out of the bedroom Light is the dom/one in charge of this arrangement in bed... but subs L and Ryuk unionize and gang up on him. Light is a dom in bed but not always a top. L as a sub but not always bottom. Ryuk as a service top or power bottom. Ryuk doesn't really feel pain like humans do and will go with whatever he and his partners find interesting.

Contrary to rumor Light and L aren't always fighting over who gets to top. Fighting is for chess matches, clashes of ideology, and the last chocolate eclaire--not the bedroom. Consent, safe words, and mutual respect are all very important.

(The safe word is vegetables)

Light is very dom. In every relationship before or since. Except there's Ryuk, looming over him. Making him feel kinda excited and confused and then theres that stupid sexy voice of his... But ryuk is the exception. (But he might let L fuck him if he asks nicely and submits to Kira's reign.)

When they sleep together Ryuk likes to keep them both wrapped in his wings. He likes being the little spoon sometimes though...

L gets Ryuk addicted to apple desserts.

Light frequently ends up cleaning up after the other two. Ryuk helps when he remembers but typically L is a brat.

Light: How can you stand to live like this?

Ryuk: I was formed in a dustbowl.

Light: Yes, it shows.

L [throwing candy wrappers on the ground]: Why are you doing that, that's what Watari is for?

Others who might potentially join the polycule under the right set of circumstances: B, Mikami, Aiber, Matsuda...

Some very noncanon AU ideas...

Superhero aus (current wips)

Winning and ruling the world(s) au (current wips)

Light gets in trouble (of either a mundane or supernatural variety) and Ryuk goes to L to ask for his help because he's the only human he can think of who would be clever enough to help Light and because of supernatural restrictions Ryuk can't save Light by himself. L is annoyed to have his fun ruined by having it confirmed that Light is Kira in this way, pissed that Light could get himself into a situation like this, and also pissed at himself that Ryuk doesn't even need to threaten him to want to risk everything to save him. After they save Light, L decides there's no point in continuing the kira case because it no longer interests him. He returns INTERPOLs money and after Light recovers from his ordeal the three go on vacation looking for something interesting but less hazardous than their previous ordeal. L becomes fascinated with the supernatural and wants to go ghost and cryptid hunting, seeking out ancient mysteries and Ryuk has plenty of leads in that. Light is still more interested in becoming god of the new world but "fine, if you guys insist..." (he doesn't want to admit he's having fun too). They drive around in L's pink crepe van huntjng ghosts, solving mysteries. Light occasionally writes the names of murderous jerks and people who are assholes to L thst they meet along the way while Ryuk laughs and L scowls in a mildly disapproving way but never really discourages him.

Au inverting the dynamics so its established relationship of lawlight first and then Ryuk joins the polycule: AU where Light and L are the same age and are childhood friends and when Light finds the Death Note they become Kira together. Ryuk is fascinated by them both and slowburn they realize their feelings for each other.

Or... Human!Ryuk and mundane college AU Ryuk is in a metal band and is probably studying art and helps rival law students Ligtt and L to chill... at least until Ryuk gets in trouble for drug possession and then Light and L compete to be his better defense counsel.

Monster AU werewolf or vampire au that's canon adjacent--Ryuk bites Light, Light goes on to monster better than Ryuk does then Light bites L, the monster hunter who falls for him...

7. Haunted house au

8. The quarantine au--Light is annoyed because now killing as Kira feels rather pointless. L is annoyed because this is boring. Ryuk is having a blast because they're playing with him a whole lot more. If L and Light doesn't just use the L screen, Ryuk is always in the background, having floating, juggling apples photobomb the zoom calls.

And suddenly Ryuk is important.

Ryuk runs errand for them because he has no danger of catching the plague. They play video games, watch movies, bitch at each other, and get into pointless arguments over stupid things.

Also L makes them custom masks modeled after Ryuk's fangs just because.

Other ideas:

Wammys house and lawryght

Option 1: Wammy's house tooth rotting fluff, adopting all the orphans

Option 2: Wammy's house evil, B was right. It's really just about being raised as a weapon. It's like the stormtrooper program for genius orphans that may not have actually been orphans before the institute took an interest in them.

Option 3: Wammy's house complicated. The institute really is trying to do better, is the best place for the kids and while not perfect its closest thing to home/family they have.

Lawryght and Morality

These 3 can be awful enablers of each other's worst qualities. Then again...

Light: Huh, Ryuk thinks we're going too far. Maybe we should rethink this.

L [already has the prisoner tied up and being forced to listen to polka music on repeat]: But where's the fun in that?

Finding a home together

With Kira and a Shinigami as his boyfriend L feels secure enough to do more normal things he's been denied all his life.

With Ryuks help, Light finds the names of all of L's major enemies and gets to writing in the Death Note.

Light: Be mad if you want. I'm not sorry.

L tries to be mad, and fails. He can't help but feel relieved that they're gone.

He might even entertain the thought of having a permanent address.

He still enjoys traveling though.

Also L gets a kitten

The cat loves chasing Ryuk's feathers.

The cat likes Light's lap the best because Light went out of his way not to look at the cat.

....

Ah, that was probably way too long. But thanks for letting me ramble! 😆

[dastardlydandelion]

I wish you would write a fic where Susan got to keep her baby for once.

well. hm. what would this look like in my hands. okay, okay, so in this particular scenario, i actually imagine neil was putting 2 + 2 together and finding out susan's preggo right after the move. like, even before susan does. and she's all kinds of alarmed but neil is?? oddly excited?

he's all like, "isn't this great? we get to have a new baby in this new town. what a perfect way to cement our brand new life, huh?"

and susan doesn't want to be hopeful but with neil's positive reaction, she tentatively feels hope anyway. maybe things rly will be different, right?

continues under the cut bc this got fucking long.

yeah, well, neil's good mood lasts until it's actually born and responsibilities ensue. he never had to deal with billy as a baby rly, bc billy's mom took care of that part and also, like. in this 'verse at least, billy was a low-maintenance baby. didn't cry much. maybe he did at first but like, after being dropped on the head a couple times, he just went quiet and didn't rly bother anybody after that. wouldn't get loud again until elementary age. and max didn't come into neil's life until she was even elementary age, so defo past all the baby stuff.

the new infant tho screams like a mofo. everybody in the house is on edge. sleep is hard to come by for the whole household. the care and keeping responsibilities mostly fall on susan but neil holds it against her every. single. time. he has to change a diaper or hold a bottle, as if it's some major failing on susan's part that he should ever have to do anything like this at all.

max tries to help but she can't even hold the baby tbh. it makes her v uncomfortable, she never gets it right and doesn't know what to do when it squirms!! what if she drops it!? plus she thinks baby smells weird even when it's got a clean diaper, an unappealing mashed food and powder combo with a lingering whiff of wet rubber. and billy. is billy. he has to watch it sometimes, naturally. if it's just him and baby at home, he'll blast his stereo to cover up the crying, as long as he knows its other needs have been tended to. like, yk, the "it'll cry itself to sleep eventually," approach. which works actually. metallica becomes the go-to baby lullaby.

but lo and behold, when it's like, let's say 6 months or smth, baby gets an ear infection. like babies do. won't stop wailing. just. will NOT stop. v much in pain and has no other means of communication. neil and max are home. billy is on a date. susan's stuck in a long line at the grocery store. neil had a shitty day at work and he's already aggravated. pacifier isn't working, lil thing just keeps hollering, so. in a burst of frustration, he starts throttling baby. max is in her own room but hears it the second the noises change and hurries to help, blood ice cold.

she stops neil from killing baby sibling but gets a black eye and a bloody nose for her troubles. this is what susan comes home to. i've written a lot of susan kills neil scenarios but i think this is the first one that comes to mind where in this round, it really is out of anger and not fear. both are present, ofc. but the actual act on her part is one of anger. bc she feels stupid that he ever had her the slightest bit convinced a new baby would make anything better. that neil ever made her feel like he'd be better and instead, he chose to be even worse. susan ties him to the bedposts under the guise of a sex thing, convincing neil she wants to treat him to smth special bc he's been oh so stressed out lately. bashes his brains in with a hammer at least 20 times, a la sally challen style.

alas, reality commences and susan goes to prison. ig a long time ago there was this made for tv movie abt this lady killing her abusive husband by setting the bed aflame that gave the public the misconception that women who kill their abusers are typically acquitted, but uh, that's not true. yeah, it was true for the lady whom the movie was based off of, but usually they're convicted and serve unduly harsh sentences for their "crimes." but if i get on that soap box, we gonna be here the whole fucking day, so, moving on now. susan's off to the big house. albeit both baby and max's injuries are documented and considered mitigating circumstances so her charges are reduced from first degree murder to voluntary manslaughter with the potential for early release.

billy's close to 19 so he's an adult, if only technically speaking. has custody of baby and max. i've decided baby in this 'verse is amab but will eventually come out as trans when she's abt ten yrs old. billy tries his best. max tries her best too. baby's nickname is ducky bc the rubber duck?? by far the favorite toy!! baby p much lives in the bathtub, playing with the rubber duck. billy, who would move them back to cali in a heartbeat if it wasn't so far from susan's prison, defo relates. he's also aquatic by nature.

okay, so the move back to cali does happen. over the months of her kids coming to visit her in prison susan can see how exhausted the teenagers are and she's p much just like, 'u guys gotta go. get outta this rural heckhole u hate, stop bringing urselves n my bby to this dismal place.' and they don't think she's serious but the next time they come to visit, she doesn't meet them, so. yup. serious it is. billy, max, n baby take neil's life insurance money and head off to cali.

this is a modern au, okay, inmates sneaking smartphones into the prison n all that. so susan makes deals and friends and does favors, and gets some help from the ones who are good at bitcoin and scams and counterfeiting and what have you. this enables her to do discreet online "shopping." so she gets ducky all kinds of rubber ducks, at least a handful of times a year. the ducks get more unique and less childish as ducky grows. susan apologizes almost every time she talks to the older kids on the phone for like, five yrs. max isn't rly angry with how things ended with neil tho, more so has that residual anger that susan ever got together with neil in the first place. billy doesn't rly know what to feel tbh, accepts the apologies p numbly bc he's too damn exhausted with being the primary caregiver in over his head to even think abt how he feels at the end of the day.

susan gets released on good behavior around the same time ducky comes out, announcing she's a girl. it's an adjustment for billy and max to get used to bc they never rly suspected, but they're 100% supportive. susan is...oddly excited? not for selfless reasons (tho she is earnestly supportive) but bc it's like. not only does that mean trashing the masculine deadname neil had adamantly declared for ducky, but it means all in all, she got out at the perfect time bc she gets to be introduced to the authentic version of her child along w errbody else. makes her feel less left behind, like she didn't miss out on errything despite being put away for a decade. susan moves in with all of them, obvi, in a small house by the seaside filled to the brim with rubber ducks (billy and max also contributed to ducky's collection on birthdays and holidays, the first duck billy ever got has skulls, and the first max ever got is a frankenstein monster duck). home is cluttered, awkward, and tentative but free of fear and ripe with *genuine* new beginnings.

believe me, anonymoose, i am just as surprised as u are at how fuckin long this got.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Dive Bar, Ch. 4/?

Pairing: Dean x Sam,  Dean x OFC (Dany) x Sam (previous chapters)

Rating: 18+

Prompt/Summary: @spnkinkbingo square - Gay Panic (eventually, I don’t know how to write short things, so the gay panic comes later). Dany and Dean hit it off at a bar and Dean is confident it’s a sure thing. But Dean doesn’t know that Dany’s has a dare to complete, and he definitely didn’t imagine his night would end with his pull inviting his little brother to come home with them too.

WC: 2262

Warnings: angstttt, mentions of incest, brother/brother incest, mentions of blow jobs

Beta: my enabler - @negans-lucille-tblr​ 😘😘

Chapter 3

                                                            ***

At their next stop off, for a dinner that was slightly more substantial than their gas station lunch, they still weren’t talking. There was nothing to talk about besides what Dean resolutely refused to address, so Sam stuck to his silent treatment. 

Sam wasn’t sure why he wanted Dean to talk about the previous night so badly. If Dean turned around and asked him how he felt about what went down, he wouldn’t have a good answer. It was probably unfair of him to expect Dean, of all people, to be able to process it if not even Sam could. Okay, it was definitely unfair, Sam thought to himself. But in true little brother fashion, there was no way he was about to own up to that. 

Why did he have to make it such a big deal? Like Dean said, so they banged the same chick, so what? 

But that’s not all you did, that voice in Sam’s head pushed in again. You blew your big brother. Looked the man in the eye, the man who practically raised you, then sucked his cock down your throat. What the hell made you think that was a good play?

Dean had enjoyed it though, hadn’t he? It definitely sounded like he had. But how does that make it better, Sam, seriously? 

It does, he argued with himself. It does because if he enjoyed it too then it’s not just me that’s screwed to all hell. 

                                                              *

Dean could tell Sam was up in his head, obsessing over the night before. And the longer Sam stayed quiet, the more Dean worried about what he might be thinking about it. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what they’d done last night wasn’t normal. Wasn’t good. Except it was. It had been so fucking good he’d felt the ghost of Sam’s fingers and lips on his dick every time he had the misfortune to think about it again. And that had been a lot. That’s why you did the right thing shutting Sam up earlier, he reminded himself. Not the time to be popping random boners like a teenager. But the silence was making him self conscious as fuck. 

Once he’d made it through his burger, Dean pulled out his phone and started cold calling hunters, asking around for any leads in the midwest. They got a dime about a string of mysterious deaths about 100 miles south; violent and fairly improbable deaths. Very distracting. Thank god. 

The Impala was a little less tense now that they had a problem to solve. Their voices sounded a little less strained when they ran through the typical gamut of supernatural evil that could be causing all the mayhem they were driving for. 

When they made it into town, it was late enough that most reputable establishments would have been annoyed with them trying to get a room at that hour. Luckily, they didn’t stay in many reputable establishments, and the motel Dean pulled up next to didn’t bat an eyelid when two guys walked in with next to no luggage and wanted to pay in cash. They saw that a lot. 

Right now, Dean wasn’t wild about what they must have thought they were there for, and his insides were screaming out - Not here to fuck, I swear! Just your standard monster hunt. Nothing to see here. Not brothers sleeping with each other, that’s for sure. But as he couldn’t reasonably set the record straight, Dean left it, and strode back to the car to grab his duffle before cracking into their motel room. Sam followed close behind, slinging his own duffle onto his chosen bed. 

                                                            *

Exiting the bathroom after he’d gotten ready for bed, he was met with Dean holding a bottle of bourbon and wearing a conciliatory expression. Still silent, Sam nodded and accepted the glass Dean handed him a moment later. 

Sam settled onto his bed, already in just his t-shirt and boxers, and sipped quietly at his drink. Dean set his glass down on the table between them and took his own turn in the bathroom. He emerged in his typical sleep gear which, Sam all of a sudden remembered, was just his boxers. 

Jeez, put a shirt on. Sam tried to look anywhere other than at his very nearly naked brother, but it picked at him that if last night wasn’t a big deal, this shouldn’t bother him. It had never bothered him before. Although… Sam thought to himself. He had looked before, noticed the muscle definition, the odd freckle that hid behind the hair on Dean’s chest.  

Sam gulped down nearly half the bourbon in one go in an attempt to burn that thought out of his mind as quickly as possible. That is not how little brothers look at their big brothers. That is not how he looks at Dean. It’s just because he likes guys, at the very least he likes having sex with them. That much he’d come to terms with at college. And it’s not like there’s many dating opportunities in hunting, and Dean didn’t know anything about Sam’s broader sexuality so he wasn’t about to hook up with a guy at a bar when Dean was expecting him to take home a pair of boobs; or more typically, sulk off to the impala while Dean and his guest got their motel room for the evening. Dean was just the only guy around most of the time, that’s all. And since Jess, and then hunting, it had been years since he’d had the chance to to really look at another guy like that. So yeah, he looked, because Dean was not a bad thing to look at. 

But right now, Sam’s brain was at war with itself, one side wanting Dean to pull on a shirt and the sweats he’d wear when it got cold, and the other side wanting to peel off the last bit of fabric covering Dean’s skin so he could get a real look. And maybe another taste. And with that, Sam downed the rest of his drink, flicked off the table lamp, and quickly tucked himself under the covers with Dean at his back, who was left to stare blankly at a lump of blankets and messy hair, his full glass of whisky in his hand. 

                                                             *

Even though they’d driven a fair bit south of where they’d been yesterday, the grass still crunched under his boots when Sam trod across it the next morning. He’d already been out for a short run, and arrived back at the motel to find an empty room, with Dean presumably out looking for food. Sam settled himself with his laptop on a picnic table and rebooted the pages he’d had open the previous night at dinner when they started looking into this case. He brought up a new window to look into a thought he’d had on his run earlier. 

“This is a crappy park.” Dean arrived with their coffee and shoved a paper cup towards Sam, which he took gratefully.

Sam chuckled incredulously when he looked up to his brother, attention momentarily drawn away from his laptop screen. “The park is fine, Dean.”

“No swings. You gotta have swings in a park.” Dean shoved half his donut into his mouth.

Sam fixed him with an admonishing stare for a moment before letting out his amusement in a sharp exhale. “Okay, sure.”

“The swings were always your favourite. You don’t remember that?” Sam shook his head puzzledly. “Yeah,” Dean huffed in the way he does. “When you were a rugrat I couldn’t pull you off those things. Said it felt like flying.” 

Sam stared at him for a moment with something behind his eyes that Dean couldn't work out. He ran out of time to try; Sam’s hair fell back in front of his eyes when he looked down to his laptop again. 

“Hey, so, get this. I’ve been looking into the local lore and I think our victims -”

“How do you have wifi right now?” Dean asked through a mouthful of the other half of his donut.

“Phone hotspot. Want to focus for a second, Dean? People are, you know, dying here.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean grumbled. And he tried to focus on what Sam was saying about the creature that might be hanging out in the woods that he ran by that morning, Dean swore he was trying. But deciding to focus on Sam’s lips as a means to concentrate on the words that were coming out of them proved to be a thoroughly misguided strategy. Because the second he looked at Sam’s lips all he could think about was what they had looked like wrapped around his cock. What they’d felt like dragging across his skin. When Sam’s tongue flicked out to catch a drop of coffee that had beaded on the rim of the cup, Dean’s own tongue went dry, his breath caught in his throat. 

What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole? Dean hoped his distress wasn’t showing on his face. It seemed like he was doing a decent job at convincing Sam he was listening, because Sam was still talking. This was really gonna bite him in the ass later if he had no clue what Sam was saying this whole time. 

Maybe you want Sam to bite you in the ass? Fuck, no, stop it. Dean was used to arguing back and forth with some semblance of a moral compass, though it usually lost, but this time he needed it to win. He had just been sitting there remembering how he used to push a little Sammy on the swings when he was squirt sized. Jumping from that, to wanting him to suck you off does not make you a good brother. Know what it makes you? An asshole. He was supposed to protect Sammy, take care of him, not take care of him. 

“Dean,” Sam’s voice saying his name cut through the noise in his head, and he looked up at his little brother. He hadn’t realised he’d been scrubbing his hands across his face, no wonder Sam was looking at him like a sad puppy right now. “You okay, dude?” There was a hint of annoyance but it was mostly concern.

“Yeah,” Dean blinked and ran his fingers up over his face to scrub through his hair. “Totally awesome.” 

“Okay, well,” Sam didn't seem convinced, but maybe he wasn’t in the mood to push it. “Let’s go get our fed suits on and head over there.”

“Yeah, sounds like a plan.” Dean swung off the picnic bench and crumpled his coffee in one hand, tossing it to the nearest trash can. Sam snickered when it bounced off the rim, and flung his own to the same can from further back, landing it dead centre. Smirking, he set off with his laptop under his arm and Dean pulling faces behind him the whole walk back to the motel. 

“Where we heading again?” 

The glare Sam gave him made it clear he wouldn’t be getting an answer. 

                                                             *

By the time they’d made it to the local bar and restaurant that evening to grab some food and scrutinise the local wildlife for signs of supernatural proclivities, Sam was seriously confused. Dean had been acting off the whole day. And not just in the typical evasive act he pulled when he didn’t want to talk about his feelings, he was spacing out of conversations about perfectly mundane things. Witnesses had started getting annoyed with him after the third time he asked the same question Sam had literally seconds beforehand. When they’d been let into the room of one of the victims, a girl about their age - just out of college, he hadn’t made any jokes about her extensive stuffed animal collection (those bears were freakin’ everywhere man), or the vibrator not so skilfully hidden down the side of her bed. When Sam had switched the music in the car, no warning and no asking for permission, Dean hadn’t batted an eyelid. And Sam had changed it to smooth jazz. 

Now Sam was standing, bewildered, by a barrel serving as a table that he’d been about to sit down at, because when he’d grab Dean’s shoulder to direct him towards the one empty table in the vicinity of the bar, Dean had broken his grip so fast you’d have thought Sam had insulted their mother. Dean came back from the bar with two beers and some menus, dropping all of them unceremoniously onto the barrel-top, and that’s when Sam noticed. 

This was the first time Dean had taken off his fed jacket all day and now he was rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie, unwinding from the persona and his bracelets were gone. This was the weird thing to end all the weird things that Dean had done all day. Since Sam had given Dean those stupid bracelets nearly a decade ago, he couldn’t remember a single day when Dean wasn’t wearing them. 

It wasn’t like they were valuable or anything. It was wooden craft store beads and elephant-hair cord that Sam had strung together at a summer camp when he was twelve. And he’d been embarrassed to give them to Dean when he got home, wondered why he thought Dean would want some lame homemade souvenir, but Dean had coaxed the presents out of Sam, and insisted that he loved them. And that was that, they’d been on his wrists ever since. But not today. Sam’s lungs deflated. 

Fuck. 

***

Tags: @negans-lucille-tblr​ @hawkerz12​ @babybrotherandthedemon​ @dylansbabygirl24​ @mineshinamary​ @popsensationnicole23​ @spn-problems​ @donthateme454​ @doyouknowsamw​ @peridottea91​@delightfulbakeryaliendeputy @fictionallemons​ @petitgateau911​ @natastic​ @marvelfansworld​ @delightfullykrispypeach​ @akshi8278​ @crashlyrose​ @miufel​ @lyarr24​ @itsthedoctah10​ @kiss-my-peachy-arse​ @leftlokiofpuppy​ @tftumblin​ @devilsbby​ @alice101macwil​ @caitlinvd​ @j-ai-adore-dean​ @disneysloot​ @half-closeted-bi-girl​ @deandreamernp​

[normal-thoughts-official]

himbo husbands! pls tell me more. i love me some intelligent, successful men fucking around together and supporting each other even thru their objectively bad plans that could really be carried out in better, well thought out ways. partners in crime and in love and, yes, sometimes it's everybody's problem. (but as long as nobody is getting seriously hurt, let them be silly!!!!!!!!)

listen i just love himbo husbands and i always will!!! it's just the truth like they are smart and all but when together their braincell loss geometrically progresses so fucking fast and they regress to the most absolutely batshit DUMB shit you've ever seen in your life and we love it!

like with the whole "pretending to be mobsters pretending to be jewellers" master plan, like... it's so needlessly complicated and wouldn't even have to be a thing if they had been SMART about it from the start and lied to charlie in a smart way from the beginning but that didn't happen so here they are. and you can bet your ass alec would go all out into that lie and magnus would enable the shit out of him. that's just how it is. these are the men who tried to break into lorenzo's home by talking about ceilings and gesturing dramatically to each other i know what i'm talking about okay

also unrelated but when it inevitably becomes roleplaying they are sooo stupid and extra about it. like alec says some offhanded comment about his shell corporations or whatever and magnus is like "wait how does that work?" and magnus pauses already balls-deep inside magnus like "well it could be like..." and then suddenly they are discussing alec's character's fake money laundering scheme with alec's dick STILL inside magnus but they're just standing there they completely forgot

and just in general having alec and magnus go together in ~stealth~ missions is the worst fucking idea because they will spend the whole time having so much fun with their elaborate ass lie the target will just be confused and Bad Idea. being the distraction? also bad they are going to turn it into a competition of who can Distract the most ("alec why did you explode the building we just needed to steal a pap-" "maGNUS USED FIREWORKS I COULDN'T LOSE") oR end up distracting each other instead (works out anyway out of sheer dumb luck because the guard or whatever has to be like "hey can you please stop making out in the hallway please" and meanwhile the others go and steal the shit they gotta steal. "oh wow guys weird plan but im glad it worked" "plan?"). they need to be separated if people actually need their brains. and let's be real they always do cuz no one else has decent ideas in this stupid fucking squad. so every time they have a mission everyone is like "alec and magnus will NOT go together" and they are pretty much grumpy mfs throughout the whole thing. alec specially. "let's get this over with so i can get to my husband" "he's right across the room" "i can't kiss him ok im angy". alec fighting demons except he has his "magnus woke me up and refused to kiss me and wanted to just go outside instead" face the whole time

*shoots demon* >:[

[goatbi]

i don't have any money . but i do have a brain . ichigo and uryu friend moments please :]

“You’re not going to get it.”

“Like you could do any better, asshole.”

Uryu scoffed, leaning against the side of the claw machine, only to have Ichigo reach out and smack his shoulder. “You’re tilting it-” 

“It’s a claw machine, I am not tilting it-” 

“You’re tilting it, stop sabotaging me.” 

He sighed heavily, over dramatically, but complied, pushing himself away from the claw machine and looking back inside it as Ichigo hunched carefully over the controls. 

Inside was a plush cockatoo, white with a yellow crest, and it had reminded Uryu of the bird he had seen Chad carrying, way before they had been friends. He knew it had a soul in it, a lost soul, and Uryu had been glad that they had figured it out in the end. However, Chad had to, a few months later, rehome the bird, despite his not wanting to, as he had to move apartments, and the new one he went into not allowing pets. 

Uryu had pointed out the bird to Ichigo, since they had been abanonded by the rest of their friends, and stuck together only out of necessity, really, promise, and Ichigo had made it his mission to get that bird for Chad. Uryu claimed that, since he found it, he should be the one to get it, and thus began... this. 

“Fuck!” Ichigo pulled away from the claw machine, as it dropped a different plush into the reward. It was a bunny, and Uryu hummed, musing Rukia might like it as he took Ichigo’s spot at the claw machine. 

“Told you. Your aim is horrible.” 

“You haven’t gotten it yet either, so you have no room to talk.” 

Uryu flicked his eyes over to Ichigo, holding the rabbit plush under his arm, alongside a bull that had previous been on the floor next to them. They still hadn’t decided who that one was going to. “I’m an archer. We’re based on aim. You swing a sword around and whatever it hits, it hits.” 

“I have Getsuga, that’s ranged.” Uryu stopped, turning completely to look at Ichigo, eyebrows raised, before Ichigo raised a hand. “Yeah, yeah, okay, that one’s a bad example.” 

“Exactly.” He turned back to the claw machine. He was going to get this bird if its the last thing he did. 

Ichigo leaned against the machine. 

“Oh so you can do it, but I can’t? You’re heavier than me.” 

“It’s just a claw machine.” 

“Unlike you, I can deal with any displacement caused by you trying to sabotage me.” Uryu narrowed his eyes at the bird’s little black bead eyes. It was mocking him at this point. 

They were running out of money actually, and all they had to show for it was a bunny and a bull. 

And now a giraffe. 

Uryu lifted the giraffe into his hands, almost glaring at it as he and Ichigo switched places, carefully taking the other plushies from Ichigo’s arms to let him try again. 

“Well, looks like neither of us have aim.” 

“Need I remind you that I’ve gotten two of the three plushes that we currently have?” 

“Still not the one we’ve been aiming for.” 

Uryu had no argument for that one, simply huffing and turning away. Ichigo just grinned at him. 

It felt better when Ichigo again failed, this time not getting any plush. 

“Fuck that was my last one.” He muttered, taking the three they did get from Uryu to switch sides. Uryu hummed. 

“Same here. Last chance to get this stupid bird.” 

“This was your idea, Uryu.” 

“You enabled it.” 

“You’re the one whose supposed to have self control here, I’m the reckless one, that’s how it works.” 

Uryu allowed himself one childish moment and stuck his tongue out at Ichgio, before focusing back in on this bird with it’s stupid beady little eyes. He hated buttons, and he wondered if stuffed animal eyes were also buttons. 

Ichigo leaned over his shoulder to watch carefully, eyes narrowed. Uryu barely noticed, focusing on minute movements, staring at his prize, hoping to everything that they finally managed to get it. 

The claw descended, closed around the cockatoo’s head like it had done who knows how many times before, then began to lift up carefully. The cockatoo stayed on the claw. Neither of them were breathing, as the claw jerked to a stop, the cockatoo shaking dangerously in it’s grip. Uryu felt Ichigo’s hand wrap around his upper arm, hold tight, lifting his hand up and covering Ichigo’s clinging right back as they watched the claw move towards the prize slot, the little cockatoo barely hanging on and- 

It fell

Right into the prize slot. 

The other three plushes fell from Ichigo’s arms as the two of them cheered, having spent far too much pocket change on getting this cockatoo out of this machine, and finally, after probably hours, they finally got what they had come for. 

“Guys?” 

Uryu flipped around, wide eyed, seeing the other four had met up at some point and found them by now. Orihime was peering curiously at the collected plushies on the floor around them. 

“What in the world are you two idiots doing?” Rukia asked, and Uryu prickled. 

“Don’t lump me in with him!” 

“You spent the same amount of money I did on this damn thing-” 

“Need I remind you who got three of the four?” 

“Shut up asshole.” Ichigo leaned down, picking up the plushies, and Uryu grabbed the cockatoo from the machine, and turned, presenting it to Chad. 

“Boom.” 

Chad carefully took it from Uryu, holding it in his hands carefully, then smiled, and Uryu grinned, back, turning to look at Ichigo in triumph, only to get a bull to the face. 

“You guys... have been here this entire time?” Renji asked, picking up the bull from where it had fallen after bouncing off Uryu’s face. Uryu huffed, then nodded. 

“I saw the cockatoo, thought it’d be nice, and he turned it into a competition. Of which I won.” 

“Oh haha, sure. You can keep that one, Renji.” Ichigo nodded to the bull, holding out the bunny to Rukia and the giraffe to Orihime. Orihime took her’s quickly grinning, while Rukia took hers a bit more carefully. 

“Good choice, Rukia, that’s the only one he managed to get.” Uryu dodged the elbow Ichigo sent towards him. 

“Did you get any for yourselves?” Chad asked carefully, and Uryu paused. 

“Well, no, we were really only trying for the cockatoo, we just...” 

“Have really bad aim apparently.” Ichigo shrugged, leaning his arm onto Uryu’s shoulder. 

Chad nodded, then handed the cockatoo to Orihime and walked over to the claw machine himself. 

After nearly another hour of cursing at that claw machine, Uryu had an owl, and Ichigo had a coyote.

[princesssarcastia]

yes, ghosts CAN time travel, actually, don’t be such a Richard, Klaus

titled “frozen time between hearses and caskets” in my fic folder, aka idea #3 from my poll two weeks ago on which Umbrella Academy Season 2 fic I should write.  vague vibes also from this poem which I adore; “I AM TIRED OF RE-WRITING TRAGEDY WITHOUT CHANGE. LET THEM LIVE. LET THEM LEARN. LET THEM LOVE.”  Because let people grow, goddammit.

this mess to follow is dedicated to @levhach, the only respondent to my poll.  I hope you enjoy!  also dedicated to Klaus’ genuine kindness and empathy for others in season 1, may it rest in peace.

                                        —————————

“Well, unfortunately, ghosts can’t time travel,” Klaus says, playing at exasperated and put-upon.

“Klaus, don’t be an asshole,” Ben intones from the corner of the room, but Klaus can hear the edge of desperation in his voice. 

It’s been years since either of them could even lay eyes on their siblings, let alone speak to them. When Allison appeared at the edge of that pool, it was like heroin; that kind of emotional high could be addictive, if he let it, and he would know.  Seeing and being seen are kind of important, apparently.

Nobody ever sees Ben but Klaus.

Except for three years ago, in Vanya’s theater.

Klaus heaves a sigh, letting his shoulders rise and fall.  “Oh, fine, you big baby.” He throws up his hands as they take on a distinctly blue hue.

And the whole room…stops.

“Ben,” someone says, or maybe they all say it, and then Diego is in front of their dead teenaged brother and clutching desperately at his stupid leather jacket, and Ben is clutching back and crying. 

He sighs again, for real this time, and lets them have this moment.  Even Five seems swept up in the emotion of it all, hovering just on the edge of the crowd with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a constipated look on his face.

“So that’s our brother?” Vanya says from right behind him, jesus christ!

“God, we should have put a bell on you,” Klaus says.  “Yeah, that’s Ben.”

“Ben,” Vanya draws out his name, like she’s trying it out, and Klaus glances back at her.  There’s a hint of some je ne sais quoi, a glimmer of confused grief, in her eyes—like she wants to cry with no idea why, or how.

Vanya, who got teary when they stepped on ants as kids, went berserk and killed the whole world…and then conveniently forgot all about it.  Hmm. Klaus has some ideas about that, personally, but he sees no need to share with the class; in his experience, people will remember terrible shit in their own time.  Trying to force it will only set her off again.

Plus, he’s not nearly drunk enough for that conversation, even after a morning of margaritas with Allison, who’s turned into a wonderful enabler.

Ben finds him briefly from the center of their little gaggle of siblings, seemingly content with more attention than he’s had in decades.

“I missed you all,” he hears Ben say, and watches their dead brother look at Vanya with grief that isn’t confused at all.

—

They stumble out of Allison’s house, away from her lovely husband—really, Klaus can’t even begin to explain how hard it is to find a partner willing to hide a body for you—and straight into the car Klaus sped over here in.  Diego, of course, insists on driving, but Allison is still upset over Raymond and Klaus can’t be bothered, so it works out.

Ben calls shotgun and Klaus automatically pulls Allison into the backseat with him.

“I just,” Allison clears her throat, “Vanya?”

“Again?  What are the odds, am I right?”  Klaus jibes, and flinches dramatically away from Allison when she elbows him.

“Last time, it was Luther and the rest of you morons that set her off.  But none of us have seen her since she left after the dinner from hell, so it couldn’t have been one of us.”

“What is she even doing in the federal building in the first place?”  Ben asks.

Klaus hums, “good point, Ben,” and relays it to the others.

He can hear the leather steering wheel creak as Diego tightens his grip.  “I don’t—I’m not sure, I was moving pretty quickly to avoid getting caught at Headquarters.”

“But?”  Allison prompts when he doesn’t continue.

“But,” Diego’s jaw tightens, “I think she got arrested.  By the FBI?”

“The FBI?” Klaus screws up his face.  “Who the hell—Allison, did you get her involved with the SJCC in the, what, ten minutes we were all together?”

“No, no I didn’t.  But…I mean, someone named Vanya with memory loss in 1963 when the president is in town…” Allison trails off, like the words she emphasized will make some sort of sense when put together.

“They think she’s a communist spy,” Diego says flatly.

“Oh!”  Klaus exclaims.  “Oh,” he repeats, when that sinks in.  “Oh, that—that won’t be good.”

“No, it won’t,” Ben agrees.

Silence fills the car like Agent Orange, and Klaus is just choking on all the implications.

—

His ears haven’t rung like this since helicopters and machine guns and Dave and medic!  I need a fucking medic!, but Klaus foists the memory back into the arms of his subconscious because now’s not the time for a panic attack, goddammit. 

Allison and Diego are saying something, but he can’t quite hear them; it’s hard to focus with wave after wave of energy flowing into him and into him, into that terrible void he doesn’t like to think about and in fact has spent his whole life drowning out. The energy Vanya is pulsating through the federal building feels like nails on the chalkboard of his soul. 

“Question, guys,” he interrupts, “Who are we trying to save Vanya from, again?”

“The FBI,” Diego, Allison, and Ben all say together, and in the same you’re-an-idiot-Klaus tone of voice, too, isn’t that adorable.

Joke’s on them, he’s about to say something relevant. “But if they’re all sucking ceiling right now, why hasn’t she stopped?”

All the bodies scattered about with their eyes burnt out of their skulls is a pretty graphic kind of horrific, even for Klaus, who’s seen pretty much every kind of dead body there is.

Actually…

Klaus waves to get Ben’s attention.  The others turn to look at him and Klaus ignores them.  “Why aren’t there any ghosts?” He shouts, hands still tight around his ears.

Not Ben, though.  He’s just standing there, arms at his sides, like Vanya’s energy isn’t on quite the same wavelength for him as it is for the rest of them.  “I don’t,” he frowns, “yeah, that is weird.  Can’t you feel that, though?”

Klaus hesitates, then nods back, refusing to explain to Allison and Diego when they make encouraging gestures.  There’s no way to articulate it to them, anyway, not in time for them to understand what it means that Vanya can affect his connection with Ben.  That Vanya can, apparently, banish the other ghosts, the ones Klaus isn’t anchoring here in the land of the living.

Pressure is building in too-tight air, like a balloon pushed to the brink of bursting.  According to Diego, Vanya will defrost the Cold War in another fifteen, maybe twenty minutes or so. 

“Can Ben go find out what’s going on with her, then?”  Diego shouts at him, and Klaus looks at Ben, who nods and strolls down the hallway more easily than they could, but it feels…weird.  Something in his chest tightens, in that same place Vanya’s reaching and Klaus doesn’t like to be aware of it the way he’s forced to be right now.

God, he wants a drink.

It takes almost five minutes for Ben to get there and back, and Klaus feels the blood drain out of his face when he gets a look at Ben’s expression.

“They hooked her up to some kind of generator.  Klaus, the readout says it’s up to a thousand volts,” Ben says quickly.  “She’s seizing pretty violently; I don’t think she even knows what she’s doing.”

Klaus lets out a blistering string of curses, the kind Sarge would be proud of—come to think of it, Klaus probably learned it from Sarge. 

“What, what is it?” Allison shouts, leaning in and trying to look where he’s looking, where Ben stands, intangible and desperate.

“They’re torturing her!” Klaus shouts back.

“So, this is some kind of defense mechanism?” Diego adds his two cents, though Klaus doesn’t think the what of this is really relevant right now.

“We have to go turn it off,” Klaus darts to look at Allison and Diego and then back at Ben.  Pressure keeps building in his ears, against his skin, in his brain, in his soul.  How the hell are we going to get back there?  He’s pretty sure they won’t even be able to stand, let alone walk a hundred and fifty feet.  They’ll pop like grapes before they reach the halfway point.

Allison and Diego are shouting something else, now, but it doesn’t matter, because Klaus is looking at Ben and Ben is looking at him and Vanya is reaching that point inside him that anchors Ben, even from all the way back here, and Vanya’s going to blow up this building with them inside it and start World War III and they can’t reach her but Ben can.

Ben can.

He shivers.

Seventeen plus years together means Klaus knows exactly what Ben is thinking, because he’s thinking it, too.

“Are you sure?” He leans into Ben’s space, and Ben crouches down so they’re eye to eye.

“I’m sure,” Ben says easily, like this is easy, god, what a prick.

Something twists in his chest, and he can’t tell if it’s Vanya or his own stupid feelings.  “No take-back-sies this time, mein bruder. If we do this—”

“We?” Ben raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“Oh, please, this is at least forty percent me and you know it,” Klaus narrows his eyes petulantly. 

His brother shifts weight he doesn’t have back onto his heels, freeing his hands to rise in front of him, palms toward Klaus.  “You remember the first time we tried this?”

“We?” Klaus mocks, but takes his own hands off his ears and presses them into Ben’s, letting that peculiar shade of blue envelop both their hands.  Not quite visible, not quite tangible, but it’s power.  Parts of Klaus flow into Ben like Vanya’s energy waves are crashing into everything around him, twining with the anchor between them until it’s a constant stream Ben can feed off of.

He sucks in a shuddery breath and blows out a shaky one.  Allison and Diego are staring at him, wide-eyed, but he keeps ignoring them in favor of Ben.

“Do you think she’ll remember me this time?” Ben asks, smiling at him in that soft way Klaus thought they’d agreed to stop doing years ago.  Rude!

Oh, what the hell. 

Klaus quirks a real smile at Ben and squeezes his hands.  “She’d better.”

—

“I remember everything.”

“Tell Klaus something for me, would you?”

—

fin.

[savnofilter]

no nuance november!

a/n: which is basically you have a bunch of opinions and dont explain any of em' and let your followers discuss them (much more suited for tiktok sjsnj). i'll be doing it since it compiles with many topics like fandom, racism, lgbtq+, politics and etc. i highly encourage people to do this simply because why not? feel free to send your own opinions n stuff, i wanna know what my followers think!!

disclaimer!! ⚠️ all of these are broad, not pin pointing certain people or situations. even though these are my opinions these were all in fun and have been collected over the years and will change as time goes on. nothing is sugar-coated so thread carefully. feel free to agree or disagree. :)

warning(s): mentions of racism, p*do micro aggression, fetishizing, toxicity, abuse, politics, labelling, mental health, cancelling, fandoms, ages.

key:

iswis = i said what i said, no explanation to that one.

whe = will happily explain.

stop sexualizing gay/m|m/yaoi relationships. it's not only demonizing to the males, it's also very fetishizing. (iswis)

most times /10 yall root for "feminine men" when you really mean white boys and fetishised asian men on social media. (whe)

bullying someone isnt educating. you either cant cope with the fact people have different opinions from you or you have a struggle with things either always never going your way or the opposite. (iswis)

straight people will never have a say in lgbtq+ issues. stop inserting yourself. (iswis)

white people will never have a say in poc issues. stop inserting yourself. (iswis)

poc will never have a say in black people issues. stop inserting yourself. (vice versa but im black and it happens more often to us lol) (iswis)

using the defense, "but black lives matter, right?" when one black person does something bad isnt facts, youre racist. (iswis)

fandom adults need to stop gatekeeping the target audience (demographics) to animes/shows. (iswis)

poc people can be racist. (whe)

even if a certain site was adult doesnt mean that every adult wants to see your porn. either keep it to yourself or tag properly. (iswis)

saying shit like, "im more xyz than you and im not even xyz" is not only disrespectful but disgusting. just because you believe in a popular opinion of a group does NOT suddenly make you a person in it, get over yourself. (iswis)

dont hate on people for the same things you have done at a young age. (ex: writing fanfic, seggs, etc) (iswis)

blaming a minor/someone mentally unstable for being abused is not only victim blaming, but it enables the notion that people who go those things that they wanted it. (iswis)

going off of that last point, if you do victim blame for situations and been in them yourself you either still havent coped with what you went through and still think it was your fault when it wasnt. (whe)

it's stupid people hate minors for being undeveloped when adults are the reason as to why people get traumas, abused and quite literally are destroying the world right now. (iswis)

gen z is white as fuck. (iswis)

early 2000s kids are equivalent to 90s kids who use to post, "only 90s kids under this" and post something that 2000-5 experienced. (iswis)

dear 2005+ kids, abusing harmful substances and having sex doesnt make you grown. stop it. (iswis)

adults, being able to post porn doesnt make you grown or mature, stop believing that it does. (iswis)

just because it's a coping mechanism doesnt mean it's healthy. (iswis)

avoiding conflict doesnt mean youre mature. if there is an active problem and you know ignoring it will only benefit you and not the actual problem at hand that is selfish. (iswis)

black women generate clout for everyone. when we're hated the person gets patted on the back, someone appreciates black girls they are praised, and people of many groups repeatedly steal from our culture. (iswis)

YES THERE IS A DIFFERENCE BETWEEN BEING BLACK AND AFRICAN AMERICAN. (whe)

if youre black you do not have to be democrat OR republican, there are many other parties. (whe)

i do not trust either parties, no minority should. (whe)

this 2020 election was not a win for poc people no matter who won. (iswis)

we do not decide whether or not what to do on columbus day. it is up to the natives themselves. (whe)

pointing out other countries (current) faults is not racist. although the issue can be misconstrued, if proper research is done it safe to say it's an educated observation or opinion. (whe)

privilege heavily varies; ex, americans are seen as privileged, while the people who live in it experience a disadvantage because of the societal standards. within the country itself. (whe)

americans, stop saying that america is the worst country and there are other countries who are suffering much worse than we are. yes sometimes it sucks but do not label it as the worst. (iswis + whe)

white people are privileged and will always be until we break the racist issues deep rooted in EVERY community. (iswis)

9/10 when marginalized groups like (women, lgbt) are mostly focused on white people and never address the poc counter parts. using the excuse "well idk much about that" is not good enough and just promotes pseudo-white supremecy. (iswis + whe)

do not use aave. (iswis)

aave is not gen z language, stop calling it that. (iswis)

gay men (white especially) use black women and get praised for the things we do that are called ghetto. (iswis)

yes it is offensive if you touch a black persons hair with or without permission. we are not your pets nor zoo animals. (iswis)

and yes it is offensive if you see a black women with beautiful hair and assume it's fake or ask, "is it yours?" "is it real?" (iswis)

using jailbait as an excuse to lewd minors is just as disgusting. (iswis)

beauty standards for women is rooted from pedophilia. (iswis)

using other pedophilic relationships as an excuse to ship yours is disturbing and you shouldnt be near children at any capacity. (iswis)

everything doesnt need a label. (iswis)

the fact that gangs have been criminalized while mafias havent is racist and feeds the stereotypes that poc are criminals. (iswis)

people are more forgiving to white predators than to poc (neither are good but people let white off the hook more often). (iswis)

if youre okay with your friends being racists, creeps, abusers you are just as bad. (iswis)

although you can like what you like, making dark content shouldnt be as glorified as much as it is. (iswis)

some kinks do deserve to be kink shamed. (iswis)

adults need to be more held accountable when held in situations with minors. (iswis + whe)

everyone perceives the world differently, many people will see the same things you see differently. (iswis)

calling people crazy for questioning the things around them doesnt make them crazy, youre just asleep. (iswis)

the human body can function without a soul. (iswis)

stop disrespecting christianity. you wouldnt do the same with hinduism, islam and etc. (iswis)

the bible was altered by white men and the true meanings have been misconstrued. (iswis + whe)

bullying someone who you THINK is problematic is not excuse to be hateful. youre just scum and feel the need to justify your actions. (iswis)

not everyone has to like you and dont need a reason. (iswis)

just because you dont like someone doesnt mean you have to make a show of it. be mature and move along. (iswis)

yes callouts/cancelling has its place but it's never done right. (iswis)

"cancel culture" wasnt a thing till white people joined in. (iswis)

dont cancel someone for stuff they did years ago. bringing it up is important but not allowing them to understand, reflect, and apologize is not only bullying it defeats the purpose of bringing awareness. (iswis)

big writers need to stop complaining when one fic or a few dont do good. not only does it rub in small writers faces, it shows that if you need people's validation to write you probably shouldnt be writing. some works will be popular and some will flop, get over it. (iswis)

stop witch hunting & crucifying people for shit you have done or your friends have done and going "uwu sorry" when you get caught. (iswis)

90% people believe content creators with bigger audiences. (iswis)

people spontaneously posting, "uwu take care of your mental health" doesnt mean that they actually care. (iswis)

people are always quick to judge people with real mental health such as depression, anxiety, adhd, and etc are always the one to turn and pretend to be exactly what they just mocked. (iswis)

dont have kids if youre not going to take care of them. (iswis)

stop baiting baby otakus (people freshly getting into anime) into watching cp like yarichin bitch club or boku no pico. they are minors, it's not funny, stop it. (iswis)

stop being protective & toxic over anime characters. if they were real they probably wouldnt even like you. (iswis)

just because someone is your friend doesnt mean that they arent toxic or abusive. (iswis)

start believing when people show their true traits. (iswis)

trauma happens in different forms, stop saying something didnt happen because it didnt go the way that has commonly happened or the way it occurred to you. (iswis)

stop saying minors should "know" while also being the loudest to say that our brains arent even developed till 25. (iswis)

the adult age should be raised to 20 years old. (iswis + whe)

tos should be raised to 16 years old. (iswis + whe)

minors take "18+" & "minors dni" out of your bio. (iswis)

yelling at minors for finding the content you freely put out without any care is your fault not theirs. (iswis)

there are plenty of adult sites that are more confined for adults but you guys ignore them because youd rather get popular on writing erotica on a popular social media platform. (iswis)

trying to cancel someone over one mistake and or blowing said things out of proportion is toxic and stupid. (iswis)

if you take someone saying they need to distance themselves for mental health reasons personally and make them feel bad for it youre an actual shitty person. (iswis)

if someone disrespects you, you have the right to say whatever you want in response. (iswis + whe)

stop hypersexualizing everything (adults especially). (iswis)

the excuses of, "they look grown" "i mentally think xyz" "theyre fake" is creepy and weird and yall should come up with a better excuse. (iswis)

yes i do believe minors should be writing for minors only, but i will not give a shit if an adult does if said characters are aged up in every work sfw or not. (iswis)

stop saying teens cant go through traumatic things and cant experience mental illnesses. it just shows that you werent cared for as a child and never get the therapy for it. (iswis)

gen z has a very colonized idea of activism. (iswis)

feminism was never for all women until the rest of us forced ourselves in. and even now it's still an issue whether or not people realize it or not. (iswis)

poc solidarity doesnt exist as much as we try to make it happen. (iswis)

colorism is an issue, and no you will not tell me otherwise. (iswis)

the hot cheeto girl is offensive and demeans black & hispanic culture. (iswis)

stop bashing minors for breathing, just say youre mad youre not young anymore and move on. (iswis)

black men are the white people of black people. (iswis)

there is no reason as to why you anyone would refer to black people as "blacks". nor should you (non-black people) be arguing whether or not to say nigga even with the hard r. (iswis)

if you (pertains to white people) think white privilege doesnt exist but go on to make fun of or ignore minority problems you are the living and breathing example of what we are talking about. (iswis)

loli/shotas are fucking disgusting and people who like it deserve to be tortured for eternity. (iswis)

seriously, stop using theyre "fake" as an excuse. (iswis)

if youre comfortable with being hateful to someone but still consider yourself a nice person because you do the hate minimum to be a decent human, youre either a narcissist or have a god complex. (iswis)

coons have no say in black issues. (iswis)

people need to stop blaming the "home wrecker" for ruining the relationship when it was the s/o's fault as well. there is no home to enter without an owner. (iswis)

stop saying any asian man yo see reminds you of a haikyuu character and or any anime character. it's racist. (iswis)

stop saying any asian person looks like a kpop idol, it's racist. (iswis)

stop downplaying and invalidating when black women go through traumatic things. not only does it promote that we have to be strong and save everyone else's problems, it says that we dont have emotions and cant be a victim which is disgusting. (iswis)

if you say shit like "minors curate your own experience" then go and turn around to say you REFUSE TO TAG YOUR SHIT YOU ARE LITERALLY MAKING THE PROCESS OF CENSORING HARD! (iswis)

white women are just as much of a problem as white men. only difference is sex keeping them apart. (iswis)

stop saying kpop is racist. expecting artists from a different political progression to understand that things can be offensive is bland. (iswis)

people accept boy groups fuck-ups more than they accept girl groups. and most times out of ten, the males are worse. (iswis)

if you engage in nsfw conversation with a minor, it is your fault they responded. (iswis)

anyone can be abused. (iswis)

stop coddling adults and bullying minors. (iswis)

most of you females have internalized misogyny and dont even know it. (iswis)

you can callout issues without having to drag a group of people. same with uplifting. (iswis)

if youre fine with being a sheep unfollow me. (iswis)

seven deadly sins is not a good anime. (iswis)

there is a difference between boku no hero academia fans based on if they call it "bnha" or "mha". (iswis)

ships literally are not serious stop harassing people over ships. (iswis)

do not harass creators of series because they do something with THEIR story. make your own. (iswis)

stop saying horikoshi sexualizes his women too much/mineta is the worst when you guys enjoy shows like one piece, hunter x hunter, naruto and etc. (iswis)

minors often or not are sheeps (heres your sign you dont have to agree with everything other people say). (iswis)

just because minors can be mature doesnt mean that they are adults. stop treating them as such. (iswis)

we should give more voice actors in the asmr (idk what to call it) community more recognition instead of just one. (iswis)

writers are the ones that send hate to other writers. anon hate is so corny and if you do it that goes to show that you are truly a toxic person wearing a fake mask of kindness when youre not on anonymous. (iswis)

stop being mean to smaller writers because they did not have as much luck as you. (iswis)

stop blaming your readers because one story flopped. (iswis)

ignoring someone's shitty actions encourages them to do it more. (iswis)

going to school and getting a job is much harder now than it was before. (iswis)

being an adult doesnt automatically make you mature. just because youre older doesnt mean youre better or you opinion is more valuable. it just shows that you werent heard when you were younger. (iswis)

there should be no reason as to why someone of the age of 18 should be having any romantic relationship with someone who is a minor. (iswis)

hawks is a shitty character. (iswis)

bakudeku isnt toxic. (iswis)

just because bakugo is in a ship, doesnt mean it's toxic. (iswis)

stop shipping male characters together simply because they have screen time together. it's creepy. (iswis)

almost all of 1-a students have ptsd and anything close to the after effects of being traumatized. (iswis)

no, editing characters to be poc is not racist. youre just mad they arent "white" when they never were. theyre asian and come in many colors as well. (iswis)

wanting to only be with a different race to get a mixed baby is fucking disgusting. (iswis)

stop ignoring pedo relationships between older women and younger boys and or with older women in general. (iswis)

males can be abused, stop telling them to suck it up or that they cant go through things. (iswis)

shaming young females about things they cant control is misogynistic and is damaging to their identity and shouldnt be excused. (iswis + whe)

not all females have to shave. (iswis)

what you dont like in someone is the projections you see of yourself on other people that you dont like about yourself. (whe)

popular bl stories extremely misrepresent gay relationships and frankly it's disgusting that theyre boosted as much as they are. (iswis)

jjba isnt ugly, you just watch animes to sexualize the characters. (iswis)

it's shitty that anime and kpop only became cool once white people stated to like it and made it mainstream. go gatekeep family guy or something. (iswis)

if you have been anime fan for a long time you were with bullied/teased for just generally liking it or you were a weirdo who recreated shit from it. (iswis)

weaboo and weeb were bad terms till we made them positive?? literally otaku is the word for it but we use weeb instead lol. (whe)

normalize and promote educating someone without going straight to bullying them. (whe)

haikyuu isnt really a good manga/anime nor is the art style the best but the characters make up for it. (iswis)

stop misusing terms and stop nitpicking definitions to manipulate your narrative. (iswis)

toxic positivity is manipulative and if you have to make it back handed you are not as nice as you like to make it seem. (iswis)

studying a major doesnt mean youre actually good in the subject. (iswis)

normalize people realizing their past mistakes and growing from it. (iswis)

do not self diagnos unless you actually feel like you may have that issue and would like to seek help. mental health is not a personality trait. (iswis)

stop projecting onto people. (iswis)

stop misusing terms and stop nitpicking definitions to fit your narrative. (iswis)

stealing any type of work should not be tolerated. (iswis)

constantly trying to trigger someone to go back to their old ways (being toxic, abusive, addiction, suicidal etc) after changing is toxic and manipulative. (iswis)

if you make jokes about hurting kids and or feel the need speak badly about them i do not want to speak to you. (iswis)

the human brain wasnt developed to understand complex ideas such as death or the universe. (iswis)

we will never truly know what is beyond our skies. (iswis)

thats all, thanks for sifting!

[nihilisme]

y’all know what time it is. i can’t sleep so i’m gonna write

I talk about some pretty heavy shit later on - so don’t read if you get triggered by sexual assault/rape/abuse etc.

It’s nearing my period and every time it’s close to my period, my PMDD symptoms flare up. For those who don’t know, it’s PMS pumped to the max. You have extremely horrible thoughts, yes, at times, suicidal - you feel incredibly hopeless, and it’s basically just this guaranteed time slot every month of where you will feel like utter, utter shit. Without fail.

Funny enough I’ve never noticed that the horrible feelings are a recurring cycle until I met my current boyfriend. And to my horror, I realized my mom had been dealing with this for years. She’d have horrible fits of rage during this time, and I honestly feel so bad that her husband didn’t care enough, and was too stupid, to get her proper help. Yeah she’s fucking difficult. But if you enable abusive behavior you’re as bad as the abuser.

Never mind my mom at this point. But the PMDD symptoms are incredibly lessened when I am on birth control. I suspect if I were on other medications it would lessen the symptoms more, but birth control fucks with me enough already that I don’t feel comfortable taking other meds.

And yet I still cried so hard yesterday knowing that one of my friends is hanging out with somebody I had a relationship fallout with. It’s like - you can’t make everyone like you, I know that. And I am in pretty healthy relationships with other people. AND on top of that - I know that I’ve been relentlessly working on improving myself, really fighting very hard to not let my bad thoughts control my life.

I’ve been living in this constant limbo of working on myself, applying healthy coping skills, and improving throughout the month - and then hitting that period of PMDD and feeling like all I worked was for nothing. Like, it does get better on the long run - but the dips can be as debilitating as they are discouraging. It is... harrowing to describe how suicidal I can get during PMDD. And the worst part is, for many years, the feelings just made sense. And even yesterday, and now, the feelings make sense because I do have low self esteem still, something I work really hard on fixing every day.

Being a woman is hell, honestly. I’ve been constantly hounded and accosted for sex since I was 14. Part of it because my abusive relationship with my parents led me into chasing boyfriends at an early age - to replace my dysfunctional relationship with what I hoped would more stable - WITHOUT EVEN REALIZING I WAS DOING IT. Because I was a child. Just wanting stable, reliable affection lol.

I was raped when I was 18. When I confessed what happened to my parents, my dad told me I was asking for it because of what I was wearing. Because I was in his room - even though at that point, we’d been going out for 8 months. And I drew my boundaries clearly. I didn’t want to have sex. I gave him everything else. I basically let him use my body the way he wanted - because I thought if I let a man use my body, my emotional needs wouldn’t be too much. I thought it was a fair exchange, because at that point I hadn’t realized that being in a relationship wasn’t a fucking business deal. Because that’s all I’d been taught.

Even before that relationship all a guy wanted from me in the end was sex. And they were teenage boys - sure. It’s mostly hormones at that point. But I remember my second boyfriend spreading rumors in high school that I was a prude because I refused to have sex with him lol.

In college, I had a grad TA I worked under who would make me do all his work because I was a woman. This isn’t conjecture - he literally said it was a woman’s work to do the “admin” work. AKA - GRADING ENGINEERING PAPERS. WITH PHYSICS, CALCULUS, AND OTHER ENGINEERING SUBJECTS (this was an intro engineering class, it had all the flavors of engineering subjects thrown in). You’re really gonna sit here and tell me the subject of physics is just administrative work to grade. Ok pal. What the fuck ever.

I met another professor in college, when I was doing my final engineering project - it was a data science project, and at that point it was early on before Data Science was a big buzzword. So being seniors in college who were engineering students but not exactly comp sci students (hard to explain) we decided to go to an expert to help get us started. I went with a white guy with whom I was pretty friendly, acquainted with at the time. And then when we met this professor - he basically ripped me a new asshole because I wasn’t “prepared”. And he only yelled at me, and not the guy I was with. “Why are you even asking me such basic questions? Why are you not prepared?” But literally only directing those questions at me, the brown girl in the room. NONE of the hostility at the white guy.

I have other stories. Especially at my last work place - but there’s just a myriad of it and I kind of want to get back to the meat of my story again.

Realizing I have PMDD has just been the icing on the cake on the experience of being a woman tbh. On top of the emotional abuse I experienced my entire life, sexual abuse I faced when I was 18, the struggle of getting through an engineering degree, knowing that every month my struggles basically reset is kind of... wow. It’s almost too much honestly. Idk how I’ve been holding on all this time.

And maybe this is the time I should toot my horn, for the sake of my sanity. I’ve had some pretty cool jobs since I graduated college. Like, the type of jobs that make people IRL go, Wow, when I talk about it. The prestige that comes with it, I won’t lie, is like a straight shot of crack to the brain. I’ve never done crack so I’m sure that was 100% completely scientifically accurate.

But truly, I do wonder how the fuck I’ve made it through all of this. I’ve made it through all of it and I’ve thrived. And on top of it all - I am so thankful for my loving boyfriend who consistently shows me love. I love him so much. It’s easy to take things for granted now, when I feel more stable. Because when I don’t I feel like it’s literally magma trying to escape my pores. The anger, the horrible feelings, are crazy. Are too much.

I need to write about this shit to remind myself what I’ve gone through and what I’ve overcome. And I’ll keep accomplishing things, even when there are times when I don’t feel that way at all. When I feel like things are crumbling around me and it feels like nothing will heal, and nothing will get fixed.

They will if I just ride the feelings out, and know that it is my PMDD. As shitty and horrible as I feel, I know it’s the PMDD. And when I finally bleed, the feeling will pass. And then the cramps will begin lol.