#unless it's somewhere completely foreign to him

[meownotgood]

u have made me more obsessed than i usually am with gun fiend!aki

imagine reader trying to help him relearn how to write, read, and speak

or throwing a surprise birthday party for him and guessing where his eyes are

when you really think about it.... he's actually quite cute.... isn't he.......

when you're able to earn his trust, you're really the only person he can tolerate without wanting to pick a fight, so you have to keep a close eye on him to make sure he doesn't go crazy again. you convinced the public safety commission to allow him to live on two conditions: 1) he benefit public safety somehow, and 2) he doesn't cause any problems.

you spend your time teaching him how to fight devils, trying to jog more of his memory, and teaching him how to do basic things again. he's intelligent and learns quickly, but you need to reteach him everything again, from how to speak to even remembering to eat.

[lalunanymph]

your stepbrother just can't resist you anymore — itoshi. r

flirty!reader, pining rin, heavy stepcest sorz, conflicted emotions, forced orgasms, almost getting caught by parents trope, humiliation, dirty talk, pro-player!rin, rin is 22/ reader is 21, i wrote this completely blasted and came twice to it i fear

Rin never thought he would take this too far. 

He was known to be meticulous, and calculative—a man made out of stone. On the field, off of it.

Fans chanted his name, and newspapers exalted him as the latest football legend. But, it did not change the grinding tension he felt whenever his reflection shone back his dark eyebags and pinched frown—a symptom of overworking himself too much.

Through it all, however, Rin always prided himself on being a smart man. 

That is, until he met you. 

His new stepsister.

You fit every stereotype of a stepsister Rin had heard of from his horndog colleagues. 

Pretty, with a too wide smile. Eager and ready to be his friend. 

He hated to admit how those cheap, sleazy pornos Shidou would mass share in their group chat had a grain of truth in them. 

If they didn’t, he wouldn’t spend his entire time avoiding you, hoping you never noticed how the hairs at the back of his neck stood whenever you passed by smelling of vanilla and sin. He would try to at least give you a hug, not tense everytime you so much as brushed your arm against his. 

The idea of self-hatred was not a foreign concept to Rin.

He had spent countless hours comparing himself to Sae, wondering if he would ever reach the pinnacle of such greatness.

His destroyed ego had been remade too many times to count. And he was starting to suspect you would be his final undoing. 

“Rin-nii.” 

Your soft voice jolted him from his thoughts. He turned the TV down, trying not to let his stare linger on how the shadows from the dimmed blue light threw the curve of your collarbones into sharp focus. 

Both your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you had the house all to yourself. 

Rin lived on his own in a penthouse somewhere in downtown Tokyo, and he rarely came home unless his father called him to have dinner together with his new stepmother and stepsister. 

There was no reason why he should even be here on a Friday night in the first place. 

Plus, with Sae still in Spain, he had no one to turn to as a buffer, and the onus of suffering fell on him to return your unsure smile with a half-hearted nod.

“Do you want to have dinner?” you fiddled with your fingers, and he hoped to whatever deity above tasked with listening to his pathetic ass that you hadn’t noticed the heat dusting his cheeks. 

“Sure,” his voice came out steady, almost bored. Just the way he always sounded. 

Rin’s practised poker face was handy when he had to sit opposite of you, pretending to be absorbed in his plate of udon while you struck up sparse conversation here and there. You talked about work, your colleagues. Sometimes, you brought up your mom and how happy she was on holiday with his dad. 

His father had told him how you were raised by a single mother for your entire life and never really had a family to rely on. This would be the first time you had male figures in your life—and you never failed to express your gratitude at how easily they took you in.

“Ah, ka-san sent me some photos of the seashore,” you mumbled wistfully, picking your phone from the table and scrolling through your gallery with a fond smile on your face. “Isn’t it beautiful?” you shared the screen with him and he reached out to steady your hand, accidentally grazing your fingers. 

He pulled back slightly, mumbling an apology. 

“It’s fine,” you beamed, stowing your phone back into your pocket. “How’s practice?” 

This was the reason Rin absolutely hated you. 

How you could feel his touches but never responded to them.

Was he the only one cursed to feel his heart doubling in size whenever you so much as looked at him? 

Rin wished he could pull back your tall curtains to uncover the orbit of your thoughts—if they were even a millimetre close to colliding with the idea of him. The nuclear reaction was enough to get his mind reeling, and the tightness of his breath and the front of his shorts was enough to snap him back to reality.

“Fine,” he muttered curtly, standing up abruptly, the back of his chair hitting the wall.

You physically recoiled back, and for a second, there was a shadow that passed your pretty eyes, one which you quickly put out when he turned his searing gaze to you.

“Okay, Rin-nii,” you whispered, and your resignation crushed his soul. 

Nice going, Itoshi. 

You slipped on a smile, taking his plate to the sink before he could protest. He couldn’t tell that your hands were shaking, chest crumpled almost to your ribcage with the cold sting of rejection.

“You…” 

His soft voice rose above the clanging of your thoughts, and you stopped scrubbing. Turning to him, your raised brows spoke of honest intentions to hear him out. Unfortunately, Rin was unsure of what else to say, and you waited for your older brother to break the awkward ice. 

The parting between his two lips which revealed his white teeth, zig-zagged through your pulsing thoughts, goading you to crash into him. 

Your shoulders fell from your ears, and you stopped in mid-motion. Cold water ran down your wrists like tears from a crack in heaven, calling you back into the light. But, you ignored the righteous siren.

Those teal eyes, framed with thick lashes and desperation slowly inched up your bare thighs, right to the crease where your cotton shorts was caught in between an affair with your plush thigh and the enticing slope of your—

Rin flinched and spun on his heel, darting up the stairs as quickly as his toned legs could bring him. 

You watched after him, frozen in one spot, fighting the current of disbelief and disappointment threatening to tear you apart. 

The fleeting glimpse of warmth that ignited within the chambers of your lower belly was extinguished by the cold harsh truth: your step brother absolutely hated you. 

Swallowing hard, you turned back to your hands that were starting to prune from the water.

You switched off the tap, drawing your hands out of the sink basin and letting them fall to your side, breath coming out in stuttered puffs. Not caring how a tiny puddle was forming under both your arms. 

Rin snapped back awake to the sound of thunder crashing above his ceiling.

Like the heavens were rioting against the sins plaguing his thoughts, he twisted to this side, trying hard to squeeze his eyes close and allow his mind to drift off. 

Another clap of thunder, and Rin swore he felt a cold draft brush his arm.

The bed dipped behind him, and he jumped, a strangled yelp escaping his throat, ready to fight off whoever dared to interrupt his sleep.

When the whites of your eyes shone in the half-darkness of his room, Rin calmed down enough to exhale noisily, fisting the sheets to still his rapidly beating heart.

“What are you…?” 

Rin trailed off, anger dying in the back of his throat when the shape of you adjusted in the dark. He first noticed the dip of your shoulders, bare under black spaghetti straps. Following the curve of your collarbone which led right into the trap of your cleavage, he couldn’t help caress your soft skin with his heated glance. 

“You can touch them.” 

He blinked, and the whites of your eyes suddenly became more vivid even as the night darkened. The shape of your mouth was coming into focus, his retinas gathering enough light in the pitch black room to illuminate the soft flesh-tone pillows he wanted to bite down on in his frustration. 

The owlish blinks and stuck silence was cut off when you reached for his hands, pulling them into your lap. Rin felt the heat of your thighs seep into his skin, and a low gasp spilled past his defences. 

Lucky Rin, the man who could score even in an unfair match, couldn’t believe if he was dreaming or not when you guided him to slide his palms up your thighs, your touch loose around his wrists. Your night dress hinged off your hips, and he briefly casted his glance to the darkened triangle in between your thighs. It fell back in place, hiding your most vulnerable part like a hasty curtain catching him right in the act.

But, when his larger palms encased your breasts, both of them curving nicely into the concave of his trembling grasp, your nightie’s betrayal was quickly forgotten. 

“Fuck,” Rin whispered despite himself. You were softer than he imagined. “Is this real?” 

It took him a second to realise he had asked that question out loud like a fucking loser. 

Your chest vibrated noiselessly with the buried sound of a laugh. “I can’t believe it either.” 

He flexed his wrists, wishing he could close his fists around such delicate flesh. His grip waned, and he felt like he should drop his hands before this got too weird, when you stopped him with a soft sigh. 

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” 

The shadow of disappointment in your tone, the way your syllables fell flat against your tongue like a limpid towel made a shiver of contempt flash hotly in his chest.  

Taking control over the voices screaming in his head, Rin firmly squeezed your tits, hearing your gasp of surprise and ecstasy rebound across the room. 

“Such a fucking eager slut.” 

Those words slid past the curlicues of his tongue with an ease of deadly poison, each word slowly bringing you up short.

“What—”

“Shut up,” Rin glowered, feeling the stiffness of your excitement between his fingertips as he twisted and tugged on your nipples through the sheer silk. “You seriously interrupted my sleep for this?” 

He yanked you closer to him, your body sprawling open like a chest of precious scrolls above his own. Your hair fell into your face, and your scalp’s sensitive skin cried out when he tugged it back with one hand, forcing you to reveal the truth. 

“Only little sluts try to seduce their nii-sans.” 

The harsh collision of his hot breath and the stinging slap of his palm on your ass made you come up short. Your cry was smothered by his tongue pillaging past the barriers of your mouth, forcing it wide open for him to devour the softness of your sudden shock. 

You barely kissed him back when Rin rolled you onto your front, pushing your face into his pillows. Something hard and insistent was pressing down on your thigh, and you shivered when you felt him reach in between your bodies to yank his shorts down. 

“Begging like a bitch in heat—I’ll show you what desperation truly looks like.” 

“Rin—hah!” 

Another hot slap landed on your skin, this time in between your upper thighs. It seared through your flimsy bleats and protests, crawling up your throat as strangled cries when you felt him shove his hands through the gap of your legs, cupping the heart of your desire right in his palm. 

Two thick fingers parted the wet seam of your folds, finding the flushed pearl which had the power to make you agree to any transgression. Those digits twisted it slightly in between their callous grab, flicking, rubbing and tapping on the fleshy dome with feral insistence. 

You cried out, and a large hand slammed over your open mouth. 

“Shut up,” he whispered, fervently, like he suddenly remembered that the walls have ears. “Our parents, they’re…”

Rin trailed off when the stony silence from his parents room down the hall finally hit him. Like someone had thrown cold water over his unbearably hot impatience, it dissolved into greasy pits of lust which opened up right to the darkness winking at him.

Begging him to choose her. 

“... not here.” 

“Yes,” you whispered, and Rin didn’t know if your shunting hips brushing his aching cock was intentional or not. “T-They’re on holiday, remember? We’re all alone.”

The way you said those last three words—the breathy rejoice of this simple truth—made Rin lean his entire weight into you, the warmth of his breath brushing the shell of your ear feeling like the world’s most beautiful electric shock. 

“Good. We don’t have to be quiet when I fuck you.” 

You were tossed onto your back with barely any grace, and Rin raked his hot stare down the planes of your body at the same time his veiny, outspread hands made their way down towards your hips. He pulled back the flimsy red hem which had so cruelly denied him the pleasurable view of your pussy, baring your glossy folds to him.

“Wet already, little sister? I would’ve never expected this from you.” 

He drove his thick fingers back to the sacred promise of your heat, using your own desire as a lube to take him right down to the knuckles. Your sharp squeal filled him with a masculine pride no goal ever could.

The feel of your warm walls, sucking him in and lovingly keeping him there like nobody had ever done in his whole life, made Rin feel like he could win 20 World Cups in a row. His nostrils flared and he curled his fingers in a seductive motion he once saw a pornstar do. Your arched back and tiny squeal almost made him smile.

“How long have you waited for this?” he whispered, loud enough in the quiet of your heaving breaths. “How long have you waited for me to fuck you?” 

“As long as you’ve waited,” your returning whisper, pushed through the scarlet haze his fingers were eliciting in your body, caught him off guard. 

“As I’ve waited?” 

You nodded sluggishly, half-lidded gaze heavy with emotion when you whispered:

“Since the first day I saw you.” 

Him, in a weathered jersey, coming back from practice while both your parents stood side by side, a cinder block about to explode his entire world while you were seated behind them—hidden from his sights. You were only twenty when you first met Itoshi Rin, but you knew you would love him for the rest of your life. 

“A year ago,” the ghost of his laugh in the crook of your neck made the patch of skin it caressed explode into tiny sparks. “I hated you the first time I saw you.”

As he spoke, he started to increase the speed of his fingers, using his thumb to put constant pressure on your aching clit. Sometimes, he would rub a few circles into it, drawing out your torment and causing your legs to jerk.

“R-Rin—”

“You reminded me of everything wrong about my parent’s marriage. You were my father’s failure right in front of me. I wanted to hate you so much.” His voice quavered, and his fingers stilled inside you. He pitched forward into your neck, covering his powerless side with a muffled sigh right into your throat.  

“But, I could never hate you.” 

Despite how wrong everything was, his words were right. Rin never hated you or your silly laugh or your insistence in making sure he was comfortable around you. Maybe he never hated you at all, just the upheaval in his life that followed along with you. 

He couldn’t blame you for that. It wasn’t your fault that your mother’s love had severe consequences on his upbringing. 

“Never?” you brought him back to the ground with your quaking question. 

“Hmm,” Rin hummed, in a half-answer to your longing. “We’ll see about that.” 

Those fingers were back to bring you towards the edge, ready to have you spilling out your deepest release and desires for him to taste on his tongue.

Rin curved one arm around you, holding you to his chest while his leg instinctively hooked around your thigh, drawing it right to his side and keeping you open to his plunging fingers. 

The hand protectively curved around your shoulders was the same one which pushed your neckline down, revealing your sumptuous breasts topped with heavy, hard nipples right into the chilly room air. 

He eyed how those nubs stiffened and perked under his watchful gaze. Rin couldn’t resist the temptation to pinch them around with his thumb and forefinger, relishing at how such a simple action could render you breathless and arching your back. 

Your hips swayed like a wave threatening to break over his entire wrist, while he skillfully rocked your world with timely strokes and tugs. 

The wet sounds coming from between your legs and spilling from your mouth painted an entire map of your release—the hitch in your breath, the gasping quiver of his name, your pitchy squeal which broke off into a pathetic whine. 

Rin let your body find her release from its shameful tether, those watchful, beautiful eyes never taking off from your undulating hips and flushed chest. 

While you were easing down from your high, he prised your legs apart, resting in between them and thumbing the raw, angry red head of his neglected cock. Your small fists crumpled around his white sleep shirt, the tilt in your waiting hips and the hungry look in your eyes undoing his patience. 

He fisted the base of his cock, giving it a few strokes. Rin was no amateur, but he wasn’t exactly as experienced as the other players. A truth he would take with him to his grave—his ego always needed to know that he was the best.

In your arms, you proved to him that he was worthy of your visceral reactions. 

You gasped out his name when you felt the tip breaching past your rippling walls. It was an exquisite stretch your toys or fingers could never give you.

Rin set a pace which had your tits jiggling freely with every heavy slam of his hips into yours. He hadn’t bothered to fully remove your nightie; something about how the hem was haphazardly draped across your thighs with the full reveal being where his cock was currently churning your insides, and the lewd way your breasts were revealed to his starving eyes from your hastily pulled down neckline, added a layer of wickedness to this already sinful affair. 

He devoured your flushed cheeks with a debauched sneer.

You turned your face away into the fluffy pillows to muffle your groans, but he pried it back to his impatient gaze. Wrapping a hand around your throat, he kept you pinned to one spot, held in place like how a prey would be frozen in fear from a starving predator’s gaze. 

“I’m fucking you so well, huh, Y/N?” his gritted scoff warmed your blood, making it sing in your ears. “You’re taking me like a champ.” 

“Stop,” you whispered harshly, tightening your hold on his loose shirt. “You’re being m-mean—” 

Your protests died as a choked moan when he wrenched your thighs off the bed and hitched them over his broad shoulders. Rin wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting them off slightly from the soft mattress with his sheer strength.

This position deepened his strokes, and coupled with your shaky circles on your clit, it had you right at the edge. 

“Rin… Rin-nii…”

The featherlight whisper of that honorific slammed into him like a tidal wave. 

Rin picked up the pace, the slick sounds coming from your pussy intoxicating him with everything about your presence; your airy moans, the glossy tears in your eyes, how you scrunched his shirt in your hold as if he would float away if you let go. 

You clawed at his chest, scrambling to grip his dark green locks and the back of his neck to draw him closer. Your legs were fully in the air, the deep rut of each sweet plunge in and out of your eager, twitching hole a shameful sign of your surrender to Rin. 

“Say it again,” he growled, the snarl on his face both terrifying and arousing. “Call me that again, little sister.” 

You wasted no time in succumbing to the darker instincts tainting the air tonight.

“Rin-nii… nii-san… please fuck me good…”

He grasped the doughy softness of your hips, sinking his nails into the welcoming flesh to take more and more until you were crying for him to stop. Rin was selfish with many things, and you were not the exception. He wanted to own your every sniffle, sob and moan. Every exhale of pleasure you released was consumed to feed his ego. 

You belonged to him and only him. 

That thought alone could’ve brought him to his knees, and it nearly made him lose control over his own body. 

The teasing darkness, beckoning him into her disastrous embrace, called out his name in a slurry, seductive moan which sounded awfully like your own voice.

“Rin-nii! I-I’m close!” your choked whimper made the red fog in his mind thicken. There was a finger hovering right over his trigger button, held back by his rapidly corrupted morals.

He couldn’t cum in you, you weren’t on any protection, he would get you knocked up, your parents would kick him out, he would be a disgrace—

“Rin-nii, inside,” you hiccuped, slipping your hand right onto your mound; using your index and middle finger to pry your nether lips further apart so he could see the glistening chokehold of your folds clinging around his cock. “I want you to cum inside.”

Those words barely left your spit-soaked lips when a well of warmth filled you right up to the brim. Rin’s guttural groan was primal, muffled into your shoulder. 

You welcomed his weight on top of you; pushing his cock deeper and pressing on a spot which had you seeing stars and releasing all over his twitching length. 

“Rin…” your soft gasp reverberated through his ringing ears. He shivered when you scratched his scalp, the pleasurable itch running down his spine. 

There was nothing else uttered between you two. Sleep came like a feathered down blanket over your consciousness, dragging you into the dark from the sound of his jagged breathing. 

Your stepbrother was right in between your thighs, eating you out for breakfast. 

Rin and you had woken up in a mess of limbs and dried cum, and rather than forcing normalcy after a night where the biggest boundary was crossed, you both continued to fall deeper into each other’s trap. 

“Rin-nii…” 

He had only fucked you twice, and yet, Rin was already feeling a possessive need to keep filling you up if only to hear you airily breathing out his name. 

His tongue slid through your folds, sampling your flavour with the patience of a man starving for his next meal. 

Your back was pressed to the expensive marble counter, and your fingers were yanking on his locks. 

“Mhm!” your teary hitched breath made him throb right in his sleep pants. 

Rin played with your clit, using his tongue to flick the flushed pearl and sucking around the greasy bud until your legs shook around his ears. 

Your nails sank into the underside of the counter, and he didn’t have to glance up to know that your face was crumpled in pure ecstasy. He could sense it in your hips—how they swayed like poetry in motion, spelling out his name and claim on you.

He flattened his tongue to let you slide your soaked folds over it as you struggled to find sweet friction; risking a peek up at you through his lashes. Your head was thrown back, the morning sun haloing your hair. Rin had seen a few women in the pinnacle of their own pleasure, but never one as breathtaking as you. 

Your moans were strained around your need to remain quiet, even as both your parents were still on holiday. He noticed your hand moving to cover your mouth in his periphery, muffling your moans behind a wall of flesh. 

Rin grunted; he couldn’t let you get away with this.

He retracted the pink muscle of his tongue back into his mouth, kissing your clit as a sweet consolation to his change of mind.

“Let me hear you,” he ordered, observing how you pried your teary gaze from the ceiling to the man right in between your legs. 

“Rin-nii,” your broken whisper stirred none of his sympathies. 

“Our parents aren’t home, so let me hear you,” he kneaded your hip with one hand, swollen lips pulled into an uncharacteristic smirk. “Unless… you don’t want to cum as badly as I thought you wanted to?” 

Your breathing hiked, and you tightened your hold on his hair. 

“N-no… m’wanna cum around your tongue…”

He sucked your clit into his mouth, using his lips to massage and roll the tiny bud. Sadistically enjoying how you flinched and tossed your head back to cry out his name. 

“Then let the neighbors know who’s eating you out s’good,” he growled into your flushed folds. “Let them know who this pussy creams for.” 

His words hit you like a freight train.

Running you down the tracks straight into madness, you let Rin order you around, control your reactions with his straitlaced dominance and encouragement to let go for him. 

You gasped, preened, cried out and moaned his name, calling him Rin, Rin-nii, Rin-Rin… 

His name sounded gorgeous wrapped in lust—your lust.

The sound of a car on the driveway knocked you back to the ground in shock, and from your stance in the kitchen, you could look out the window onto the front porch. Your parents were stepping out of the car, a few hours early from their scheduled arrival, lugging suitcases and joking around.

They couldn’t see you from the kitchen window’s heavy tint, but they were just a few feet away. 

“Rin,” you tugged on his hair harshly, begging him to ease up. There was a puddle of spit and juices gathering on the floor, right above where his mouth was still insistently connected to your clit. “Rin, t-they’re here—”

Those large palms caged your hips to the corner of the island, holding you down so you couldn’t squirm away.

“R-Rin!” 

“Cum first,” he muttered roughly, licking up and down your seam to tease you from clit to hole. “Cum on my tongue first and then I’ll let you go.” 

“No!” you whisper-shrieked, thrashing about, trying to push him off you. He stubbornly held on, pinning you to the edge of the counter with one arm, easily pushing his free hand through your thighs and plunging two thick fingers into your well-teased pussy. 

You gasped out loud, back arching.

Footsteps echoed down the gravel walkway, getting closer.

“Rin—”

Your toes curled, and the room started to spin. It felt like your entire skin was covered with flames licking every inch of your body—the biggest ember burning right where Rin was insistently eating you out. 

Despite every nerve that was drenched in horror, the coil in your belly never stopped tightening, thrilled by the possibility of being discovered.

“Rin,” you were sobbing at this point, whether in fear or ecstasy, you had no idea. Your body was in a raging battle, your self-control razed to ashes.

“... wonder how Y/N and Rin are…”

Your parents were just right behind the door, their voices breaching through your foggy mind.

They were a few feet away from opening the huge mahogany slab and finding your older brother on his knees, pleasuring you. 

Dad would freak out first. After all, he had explicitly told Rin to be nice to you—but he hadn’t anticipated how well the younger Itoshi would treat you.

Your mother would cry. She would curse you out for ruining the first family you ever had. 

And Sae, your other brother… 

The thought of your older nii-san and the disdain shining in those detached teal eyes (so similar to Rin’s yet so different) if he was the one to stumble upon the both of you, was the final push your body needed.

Flames licked your entire body, the world falling off its hinges. You crumpled to the floor, in time for Rin to catch you, his fingers furiously pumping in and out of your drooling cunt, squeezing you dry from the pleasure. 

He was frantically lapping at your clit, drinking up your juices, more of them splattered onto the floor. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, kissing and tonguing your folds as you shuddered and creamed around him. “Fuck, so good, so good—”

The lock clicked, and the front door creaked open.

The elder Itoshi found nothing amiss in his house when he stepped in, his new wife trailing behind with their luggage and souvenir bags. 

His teal gaze swept over the spacious kitchen, and the only sounds in the house came from the living room where light was spilling past the archway. Someone was watching TV. 

“Is Rin here?” his new wife asked, always excited to see one of his boys. He hummed, tossing his keys onto the console table and shrugging out from his jacket. 

“Beats me. He comes and goes when he pleases—”

“Tou-san?” 

Sanjiro paused, recognizing his son’s voice calling from down the hall. 

“Rin-Rin?” 

Both parents ambled towards the light source, rounding the corner to find Rin scrolling listlessly through the channels, still clad in his sleep shirt and pants with a cushion fitted snugly in his arms, nestled right on his lap.

He peeled his disinterested eyes from the screen to assess them. “How was your holiday?” 

Your mother spoke first. “It was great! The weather was so good. How has Y/N been? She mentioned you stopped over for dinner yesterday.” 

Rin’s expression barely changed, only a flicker of recollection behind those impassive eyes. “Oh. Yeah, I did. I stayed over in my old room—it was too late to drive. I hope neither of you minded,” he added as an afterthought.

His stepmother, always there to reassure that he was always welcomed in their new house, stepped into her hostess role. “Of course not! This house is as much yours as ours.” 

Never mind that this luxurious double-storey once belonged to his biological mother and father. 

Recognizing that his new wife might have overstepped with this careless slip, Sanjiro cleared his throat gruffly. “So, did you at least try to be nice to Y/N?”

Before Rin could reply, he was cut off by a chipper: “Yes, he was!”  

You drew all three of their attention, bouncing down the stairs with an effervescent grin plastered on your face. You were ready for the day, dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp from a shower.

“Rin-nii and I watched some horror movies last night and he made fun of me the whole time, did you not, nii-san?” 

There was a crack in his son’s composure—a look of annoyance that made Sanjiro want to chastise him when Rin spoke up, surprising the older man who could faintly make out a teasing lilt in his boy’s tone.

Which was completely unusual to hear coming from his sullen, withdrawn son. 

“Hard not to when you can’t even handle a jumpscare… little sis.”

said i would never write stepcest yet here i am oopsie anyway every reblog and (nice) feedback helps us manifest our own rin-nii bless

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[jkriordanverse]

Soc characters as dads (hcs//what i feel they'd be like)

Kaz - 100% baby whisperer. He's been caught several times having ribbons and glitter in his hair from tea parties with his kids and he doesn't care. Criminal prodigy in training. He even brought them a small suit complete with a diamond encrusted on a stick that looks strangely like his cane. Inej catches him baby talking in his office several times, and it goes sth like this.

Kaz, doing taxes: you see, to do taxes, you take this number and multiplies with this. and then divide it with this Baby Kanej, reaching for a shiny object: *baby babbles* Kaz: aha, correct! You are a genius, and i see you have an eye for things. Excellent *proud dad moment* Baby Kanej: *more baby babble*

Wylan - It's wonderful. Wylan's 10 times the dad Van Eck will ever be. He's going to help this child in every way he can, even though he can't read them stories, he makes up his own, and he's quite amazing. When the kid's finally learned how to read, their roles flip and he starts reading Wylan stories. They have tea together and he teaches them the flute and even though the child seems to be quite terrible at it he's proud anywas.

Jesper - This baby's blowing up things and shooting by the age of 5. He's taking this child everywhere he goes (unless it's somewhere dangerous), he's showing it all his friends. he's teaching it all the Jespery moves and the child is getting the full how to Jesper on the dancefloor guide 101. He's showing the kid how to shoot, and he's teaching them secret names for each member of the Dregs (Kaz found out Jesper was calling him names this way)

Matthias - Afraid of his child. Oh no, they're scrunching their face. That means the baby is....erm....mad...right? At what? He's panicking now, he doesn't really know what to do? goo goo ga ga? What does that mean? Maybe Nina is more of an expert on this foreign language.... (//I think he ADORES his child and his hot wife but overall doesn't really know what to do with the kid and handles the baby like you might handle a piece of precious China).

[astronomywriting]

Unexpected Affection ❤️ Shinobu x Fem! Reader

WC: 1.8k Words

Vocab: [H/T]= Hair Texture || [H/C]= Hair Color || [S/C]= Skin Color || [F/N]= First Name || [E/C]= Eye Color ||

Content Warnings: Reader’s father is mentioned to be deceased, and their mother is emotionally unavailable

Premise: The reader is emotionally repressed, but they find themselves wanting cuddles from Shinobu

A/N: This one is a lot of yap with little dialogue. If you happen to have any constructive criticism I’d love to hear it :D

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You were an exceedingly stoic person. A persona you’ve long adopted, ever since early childhood. Your father passed away unexpectedly, which threw your mother into a pit of depression. Depression that would lead her onto the path of emotional neglect, not only for herself but also for you. Your mother would never go on to tell you why she changed so harshly after the passing of your father, but somewhere you had a feeling it was because you resembled him too much for her to bear.

These unfortunate events made you grow up faster than you would’ve liked. You had to take care of yourself, get back up on your own after something in life had gone wrong, and teach yourself how to adjust as you grew with the ever-changing world. Even now, as an adult, you still hold onto these past techniques, normalizing them into your day-to-day life. You weren’t able to trust easily, and even those whom you’ve left in your life rarely get to see a smile or express basic human emotion.

Which is why, as you lay on the futon alone, you wonder how and when you started missing the company of your girlfriend. You were used to being alone, so what strange circumstances of events led you to greet being alone as a foreign feeling? When did you start longing for her to be around? When did you begin to enjoy the small kisses and the warmth of having a partner to sleep next to?

You didn’t know how to answer such a question yet, but you did know you wanted to drag Shinobu back to bed so you could fall asleep once more. However, there was one small factor stopping you. It wasn’t in your code to just get up and tell Shinobu how much you enjoyed her company and that you couldn’t sleep without her. Even the smallest levels of intimacy were completely untouched by you.

Kisses between you were nothing but small pecks, only to be shared in the privacy of your own home. The only handholding you did was a quick squeeze in between the days. Your type of affection wasn’t something bold or outgoing; it was simply small acts that could be done completely alone. Instead of cuddling, you’d just silently enter a room Shinobu happened to be in and sit down, simply basking in the proximity of your beloved.

Tonight was different, though. Echoes of the past were quite keen on keeping you up, no matter how much you tried to readjust into a comfortable position or try to work on your breathing to lull you into sleep. It was becoming more and more obvious to you that what you needed was another person to help you drift off. Whether it was with her scratching your [H/T] [H/C] hair or whispering small words of affirmation until you fell asleep, the fact was clear. Sleep would not come tonight unless Shinobu was with you.

You sigh as you remove the covers from your body, the chill air hitting you in an instant. You sit on the edge of the futon as you nibble on your lip. Your hands are scrunched up on your thighs, leaving small crescent patterns in their wake. You let out one small, shaky sigh. You knew Shinobu wasn’t like your mother, but it still just felt so nerve-racking. Knowing your girlfriend, she was most likely up late again working on another project of hers. She had her own personal study just down the hall from your shared bedroom.

A short walk was all it would take to get what you wanted. All you had to do was pop the question, and you were sure Shinobu would oblige. Though many times you asked your mother for something small, like a hug or the simple message that it was going to be okay, you were declined instantly. You continue to dig your nails into your [S/C] skin.

You release the grip of your nails on your skin and stand up. Maybe the sleepiness had made you bold, or maybe you were facing the fear of intimacy. Whatever it was, it was enough to make you travel outside of your bedroom and down the hall towards Shinobu’s study. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the door knob. You command your arm to move so you can enter, but it’s of no use. The light is on; you know she’s in there, but your body lies still.

This is stupid. You think to yourself.

What kind of adult can’t sleep alone? You criticize.

I’d only be bothering her. You admit.

Despite these harsh words, you find yourself slowly opening the door. The confidence you once had is beginning to shrivel away. Your hands turn shaky, and you begin to sweat. You almost want to close the door and run back into the futon to hide under the covers, but you don’t. Twisting the knob ever so slightly with your trembling hands, you see Shinobu, her back turned to you, doing some paperwork at her desk. The chair is pushed to the side, and she is standing.

Your heart begins to pound in your chest and out of your ears. You’re surprised Shinobu doesn’t hear, with her being a Hashira and all. Maybe it was the habit you picked up in your early childhood— wanting to be completely silent as you wandered through the house so as not to upset your mother. Either way, you enter the study silently, and you are now standing behind her. A small part of you wishes to stay inside your comfort zone. Opting for the usual routine of you and Shinobu sharing a space with comfortable silence. But today you feel different, more bold, and more eager.

You find yourself walking behind her, slowly wrapping your hands around her waist, and plopping your chin on her shoulder. She tenses up for a moment, a bit startled, but relaxes when she realizes it’s you.

“Love?” She asks, her voice a little confused.

Normally you get tense when she calls you any sort of pet name, but today you feel yourself relaxing instead.

“Shino,” you start. Your mouth goes dry, and while you don’t mind her calling you a pet name, hearing it come out of your mouth is a different scenario. “Can…can you come back to bed, please?” You mumble.

Shinobu doesn’t respond; she’s a bit stunned for a moment, unused to your small display of intimacy.

“Shino?” You try again, your voice low.

This clears her senses, and she quickly forms a response.

“Ah, yes, [F/N]?” She quickly stutters out.

“I asked if you would go back to bed with me.” You repeat.

“Yes, of course, my dear.” Shinobu agrees; she prioritized her work heavily, but on this special occasion, she simply couldn’t refuse. “May I ask why, though? You’re usually so—”

You cut her off. “Stoic? I know,” you let out a dry chuckle. “I just,” you struggle to find words to represent how you feel. “It’s hard to sleep when you’re not there, and my late-night overthinking is the worst,” you confess.

You realize your hold on her waist, and you step back to let Shinobu readjust her posture. She turns to face you; her purple eyes tear into your [E/C] ones. You see her lean forward ever so slightly, but she stops herself. You know that she knows about your boundaries. You’re hyper-aware of them too. Although not comfortable for a full kiss just yet, you grab her hand. Despite her being a Demon Slayer, her hands are silky smooth.

You bring her hand to your mouth, placing a small kiss on one of her knuckles. It’s short, like all of your other kisses, but the air around this particular kiss feels different.

“I wish to cuddle with you..?” You phrase it as more of a question than a request. “And you don’t have to use my name either,” you add on. “I’m okay.. I’m comfortable with you using a pet name,” you reassure. This all feels dizzying to you.

Shinobu gives you one of her soft smiles, and she goes to take your hand. Not a small squeeze or a simple graze. This touch is lingering and comfortable.

“Of course, my dear,” she says, leading you back to your shared room.

Shinobu lets go of your hand to enter first; you follow after her and realize the air is no longer chilly. She kneels down in front of the futon and pats it, signaling you to come lie down. As you do, Shinobu moves to lay behind you. This time, it’s her who wraps one arm steadily around your waist, while the other comes up to toy with your [H/T] hair.

Your body relaxes, your muscles go limp, and you lean back into her smaller frame.

“Sorry for interrupting your work, ‘Nobu, it’s just today I felt like—“

This time, it’s Shinobu who cuts you off. “Shh,” she coos. “You’re not a bother; in fact, I’ve been waiting for you to get more affectionate.” You feel her warm breath against your neck as she speaks.

“You have?”

“Mhm,” she hums. “I concealed it, but in my study I was practically jumping for joy.”

“That was always your specialty, huh?” You snicker.

“My specialty is medical work,” Shinobu declares. “Speaking of.”

You can’t get a word in before two hands gently run along your shoulders.

“Did you know that massages help with sleep, love?” Shinobu says.

“I did not,” you reply.

Shinobu gently caresses your shoulders before moving down your back. Every now and then, there’s a small pop, and any pain you once had in your back dissipates. You also feel yourself growing drowsy. Eyelids turn heavy, and you can barely focus on the scary feeling of intimacy anymore. The only thing that is present is Shinobu giving you a massage while you flutter into a peaceful sleep.

[mothandpidgeon]

Aunt Flo's First Visit [pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader]

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

Pairing: pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: After Sarah gets her first period, Joel is determined to be a supportive parent despite the fact that he doesn't know the first thing about menstruation. But when he goes to the pharmacy to shop for supplies, he finds himself in way over his head.

Words: 2k

Rating: G

Warnings: period stuff and everything that comes with it

a/n: This is really fluffy and a little silly. I saw a tik tok by a menstrual product company about a customer trying to find the right thing for his daughter and it just gave me such Joel energy this happened. I haven't finished any fic in MONTHS because I'm working on my book and that's not finished either so it feels really good to complete something. (If you want to keep up with my publishing journey, I'm mainly documenting it here.) Please enjoy.

Also, I challenged myself to write in present tense bc I never do and I really was struggling so pretend the grammar is all correct. Thank you.

Joel knows how to do a lot of things. He can manage a crew, change a flat tire, and build just about anything. He never considered himself smart by the classical definition but he knows how to make a car battery from scratch despite the fact that he got a C in chemistry. 

If somebody had told him a decade ago that he’d one day be paralyzed with fear in the feminine hygiene aisle, he would’ve laughed. But right now, Joel would give all his knowledge along with his left arm if he could just figure out what the hell he ought to buy for his daughter.

He knew this day would come eventually. It’s his own damn fault he never prepared himself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he must’ve expected Sarah to just know how to handle it. Being a single dad wasn’t a walk in the park but he couldn’t imagine how much harder it would be if Sarah wasn’t so damn self sufficient. Even at 13, she can get herself fed and dressed and off to school without help. Of course she could figure this out on her own.

But Joel was reminded that Sarah’s still just a kid when she finally told him that she’d gotten her period for the very first time. She was so embarrassed to admit it, Joel practically had to drag it out of her. 

He was angry with himself. He should’ve been ready, wished that he knew the right words to say. Joel promised himself he would put things right so she wouldn’t feel like she ever had to hide anything from him. 

That was a lot easier said than done, he realizes now.

Joel stands in the aisle overwhelmed and confused. Boxes and soft packages in friendly, pastel colors stare at him from the shelves. He’s never spent much time with the feminine hygiene products, not unless he was scooting by them to pick up a little carton from the family planning section. He hasn’t bothered to learn about that stuff. Women’s stuff. He’s not disgusted by menstruation, isn’t afraid of it. It’s just one of those things he never had to deal with. 

Without Sarah’s mom, though, he’s had to figure out plenty of girl things. He can remember the lesson on managing Sarah’s curls from the kind woman at the hair salon. Names of Shampoos and oils that felt foreign were now routine and he’s mastered using the combs and clips that looked more intimidating than some of his power tools. But he struggled for a good long while before that kind stylist took pity on him. 

And here he is again, flying blind into the female whirlwind. 

There’s so many options on the shelf. Words like HEAVY and gentle and sport. And the prices. Christ! He thought the hair stuff was expensive.  

Joel’s head is spinning but he has to get it together. He’d vowed long ago that he would be Dad and Mom too. That’s what his daughter deserves. 

Just a year ago, he hovered outside of the dressing room at the mall as Sarah tried on training bras. 

“Did you find one? You were in there for a while,” he said when she emerged.

“Dad,” she replied in that tone she was using more and more often, the one that told him to shut up.

It isn’t the changes to her body that scare him, all of the subtle ways she’s becoming less familiar. His little girl is growing up and he mourns her childhood. It won’t be long before she’s driving, going off to college. Maybe she’ll have a daughter of her own but Joel hopes she’ll wait longer than he did, have a chance to make a life for herself.

Speaking of which, he realizes he’s going to have to sit her down for a real talk about boys next. He better get ready for that one. Explaining where babies come from hadn’t been too difficult. Condoms and venereal diseases are a whole different ball game. Teenage boys are gremlins– he’d know– and Sarah’s so smart and pretty, she’s going to have to be careful. 

Joel doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at the shelves when a woman appears in the aisle, another shopper. She’s got her keys looped around a finger, headed straight for the tampons, her flip flops smacking against the bottoms of her feet. Joel has a box in his hands. He doesn’t even know what he’s picked up, it’s just got the least intimidating packaging and the price is reasonable. He can’t help but catch the woman’s eye and the look she gives him is a little wary. It must be obvious that he’s out of his depths. But she gives a polite, tight lipped smile and proceeds to ignore him as she approaches the pantheon of period products. 

He watches as her eyes dart around the shelves and quickly she makes a selection, plucking up a box clad with pink and purple silhouettes. So easy. Well, it must be easy for her. He wonders how many times she’s visited this part of the pharmacy, if her mother brought her to the store when she was Sarah’s age and showed her all the options. 

His free hand fidgets at his side and he swallows dryly. He feels like an idiot but he reminds himself that he’s got to do this. For Sarah. The woman is already half way back to the end of the aisle by the time he’s found his voice. 

---

“Excuse me, miss. Could I trouble you for a second?” you hear from the man behind you. 

You turn around, confused, but there’s nobody else that he could be talking to. Here you thought you could get in and out quickly. You’re cranky and tired and all day you’ve had toe curling cramps. It hits you like a ton of bricks every month. All you want to do is get home to your couch to watch some crappy reality tv. 

But this lumberjack of a man– broad shoulders wrapped in a flannel shirt– is giving you puppy dog eyes. You’ve never been hit on while holding a box of Tampax Pearl but there’s a first time for everything. 

“I apologize. This is real awkward,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck with a big hand. “I’m trying to get something for my daughter but I’m a little lost.”

His voice is warm and sweet and he’s handsome as hell but you keep your distance. 

“Didn’t she tell you what to get?” you ask. 

His expression grows even more bashful and his voice lowers. 

“I’m afraid it’s, uh…well, it’s new territory for both of us,” he admits. 

You can’t help the sympathetic smile that forms on your lips. Some poor preteen girl just got welcomed into the cruel arms of womanhood. It will be all downhill from here. Wild mood swings, angry breakouts, blood leaking through her favorite pair of pants. At least, it seems, she’s got her dad on her side. It takes a lot of balls for a guy to pick up a box of tampons let alone stop a stranger and ask for help. 

You’d like to tell him that you’re too busy to help– you can hear your Haagen Dazs calling you all the way from the freezer– but you at least owe it to this kid to help him out. 

“What’ve you got?” you ask, nodding towards the powder blue box in his grasp. It looks so little in his big hand. You walk back towards him and take a look. “Oh. Nice try but I wouldn’t go with that.”

He regards his choice again. It’s kind of adorable, the way the corners of his mouth frown as he squints at the words on the front. “What’s wrong with these?” His words aren’t defensive, he’s genuinely curious. 

“Tampons can be pretty tricky when you’re that age. And those don’t even come with an applicator,” you explain. You remember trying to use a tampon that first time. You’d never put anything up there before and it stung like hell.

“Applicator?” His brows furrow and you can see fear in his brown eyes. 

“So you can put it…in,” you tell him and motion with your finger, jabbing your pointer upwards. 

His cheeks go pink. Ears too. You try to suppress a giggle as his brain short circuits for a second. His throat works as he swallows and places the box back on the shelf— gingerly, like it might explode. 

“Which are the ones that don’t…go inside?” he asks. 

It’s impossible to keep from grinning. 

“Pads,” you say. 

He nods. 

You choose a package and place it in his hands. It’s a multipack, everything from light to heavy, and no wings so she doesn’t feel like she’s wearing a diaper. 

“Try this,” you say. “She might not like them. It takes some trial and error.”

He reads over the circle in the corner that claims it’s 100% Leak Free! You can see he’s still overwhelmed but he’s far less nervous. He really is good looking and you have to wonder how he doesn’t have a woman in his life to help him out.

“This many?” he asks. 

“She might need more.” You shrug. “Just stay away from the scented ones. And you have Tylenol at home?”

“I think so.”

“How about a heating pad?”

He shakes his head. 

“Go get one,” you advise. 

He blows out air and then steels himself with a nod, ready to face the red menace. 

“I’m awfully grateful for your help,” he says and you can tell by the look on his face, he means that. 

You feel your own cheeks heat. 

---

Joel ends up behind her in the checkout line after securing an electric heating pad and grabbing an extra bottle of Motrin. 

“What do you think?” he asks, showing her what he picked.

“Good job,” she tells him. Her smile is tinged with amusement but his chest still swells with pride. Maybe he’s not such a failure of a father after all.

Now that he’s less bewildered, Joel can’t help but notice how pretty this woman is. She’s dressed for comfort without any make up as far as he can tell but that smile and the kindness in her eyes is what does it for him. If they met under different circumstances, maybe he’d try to flirt. Not that he’s had the opportunity to practice recently. It’s for the best, though. There’s absolutely no way the combination of bumbling idiot, single parent, and menstruation makes for a romantic connection. Besides he’s here on an errand for his daughter.

Joel tries to keep his eyes from wandering over her as the teenager behind the register rings her up, the pink box and two bags of M&Ms. She gives Joel one last smile before leaving the store. 

He thought he might feel embarrassed buying nothing but period supplies but he’s too busy thinking about how helpful she was. Sarah would just about die from mortification if he told her a complete stranger gave him a crash course in maxi pads. He chuckles to himself. 

“Hey!” someone calls as Joel approaches his truck.

It’s her, the woman from the pharmacy, crossing the parking lot. Joel smooths his hair.

“These are for her,” she says, handing him one of her bags of candy. “Chocolate helps.”

Joel gives a soft laugh as he weighs the M&Ms in his hand. “That I knew,” he says. 

“And, uh, here,” she tells him, holding out the long receipt. 

Joel takes the paper. On the back she’s scribbled her name and phone number. 

“You know, I don’t know. I just thought– if she has any questions. Or maybe if you do,” she says, shrugging. She’s much less confident now than she was in front of that endless selection of menstrual products. It’s cute and makes Joel feel a little less like an idiot for the way he was fumbling a few minutes ago. 

“I owe you one,” he says.

She shakes her head. “Just be patient,” she warns. “She’s gonna be a bitch but don’t take it personally.”

Joel grins. 

“You’re a good dad,” she tells him and he doesn’t know how to respond to that.

She’s already backing away towards her car and waves again. 

Joel looks at her number, once again finding something he doesn’t know. He’d give his left arm to figure out how soon is too soon to call. 

---

MASTERLIST - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

[tvstarkuma]

I wanted to talk a little about the post I reblogged last night related to Yosuke’s parents. As a Teddie writer this is specifically in regard to my special bear but I will touch on Yosuke a bit by extension.

The post critiquing the Hanamura’s claims that Teddie, after a short time living with them, is now the family favorite. I believe this is a misunderstanding of Teddie’s situation and not a sign of favoritism.

When Yosuke brings Teddie to live with him, the game does not tell us how he explained the situation to his parents. Most people like the headcanon that he is a foreign exchange student of sorts. But what that particular headcanon does not acknowledge is how obvious it is to the Hanamura’s that Teddie does not go to school. Teddie explicitly brags about staying home all day while everyone else is at school. If that was Yosuke’s explanation then that lie would’ve fallen fast. So for the sake of canon-compliance in this discussion, we will keep the nature of Yosuke’s explanation as a mystery except for a few logical jumps I believe the Hanamura’s could easily make in their position.

The reason Teddie is allowed to do so much that would get Yosuke punished is because Teddie is not their son. He is an odd combination of extended house guest and family friend that became unofficial family. Teddie not actually being their son during the game’s story is important because I believe this is the main reason they are so lax with him.

Most people would agree that an adult should never try to parent or scold someone else’s kid. Unless being passive would harm the family in any way, punishing someone else’s child is seen as rude and a huge overstep. “Not my circus, not my monkeys”, as they say. For this reason, I believe the Hanamura’s would actively avoid punishing or being strict with Teddie since it wouldn’t be under their jurisdiction. We still don’t know what explanation Yosuke gave, but I think it’s fair to say that they probably assume Teddie has actual parents somewhere out there and it would be wrong to criticize how they parent (or don’t parent) their kid (note: I say “child” and “kid” a lot today because Teddie is a minor and not because I view him as a small child). Assuming Teddie has parents that exist somewhere else and only temporarily need someone to watch their kid is an easier situation to imagine by a stranger than Teddie being an orphan that has never had any parents of his own and somehow found himself here completely on his own volition. Occam’s razor and all that.

Teddie being an extended houseguest of sorts also explains why they are so nice to him. Houseguests normally receive the best treatment. Think of how many parents take out the good silverware for a guest or intensely clean the house before a family gathering. It’s very common for parents to want to give a good impression to any guest brought home by their son. Helping with chores is common for a son but no adult would ask their son’s friend to help clean the house while staying over, and any help from the friend is weighed even more heavily since they didn’t need to do this. Teddie just happens to stay for a very long time.

My point here is that the Hanamura’s never intended to make Teddie appear like the favorite. He is on a different playing field from Yosuke so they cannot be directly compared without keeping their situations in mind.

I, personally, enjoy the headcanon that the Hanamura’s eventually realize that Teddie has not family to return to and eventually adopt him but that is separate from this discussion. Funny enough, I also envision them being stricter with Teddie after adopting him because now he would be fully under their jurisdiction to parent. Only then would him and Yosuke be on an equal, comparable field.

[nonexistentirl]

As I'm re reading Eleceed from the beginning, this bit in chapter 93 caught my attention. It's insinuating that there was once an unaffiliated awakened who betrayed Baekho and S.Korea which dealt them a lot of damage. Now pair that with the fact that we know nothing about who Jiwoo's father is and it certainly does start to paint a picture.

My theory is that, Papa Seo was a really strong awakened. But just like Jiwoo, he too refused to be affiliated with any groups. Han Seongik saw his potential and decided to sponsor him. Things were going fine until, and this is only my theory, Kayden Break appeared. I presume the fight between Kayden and Han Seongik was the catalyst. Papa Seo saw the power of the world class and decided he wanted to become like that too. He couldn't allow himself to be stuck in South Korea where the rankers are dead set on hiding their power. Thus he left. His departure would indeed be a great damage to the firepower of South Korean awakened society.

Now, there's also the possibility that he's a completely normal person. But I find it weird that we haven't seen hair nor hide of him in over 300 chapters of this series. Jiwoo's mom made an appearance in flashbacks as early as chapter 7 before officially appearing around chapter 176. But his father hasn't so much as been mentioned. Even when the others talk about his history they never mention his father. Only he and his mom moving around a lot is ever mentioned. Unless he's like dead or divorced, it's all really suspicious.

Jiwoo and his mother don't share a surname, so the possibility that he's fully Korean are high. There's also the fact that we don't know two of the world's top 10. Jiwoo's dad might be one of them. Han Seongik was the top ranker of Korea before passing the title down to Yoo Jiyoung. If Papa Seo left Korea before becoming one of the top 10, then he wouldn't be Korea's no. 1 anyway.

I'd also like to add the bit about how we don't know two of the top 10 in the world yet. We also don't know the third top 10 who gave Kayden the injury. Kayden said he got injured while fighting three top 10 gathered at a place. We now know two of them are Greg and Mioru. But the third one... The fact that the two of them ganged up with Andrei to fight Kayden again while the third one didn't. Could he have opted out after finding out Kayden is Jiwoo's mentor? Or he could simply be busy somewhere else, idk.

As for the resemblance part, since Jiwoo seems to take a lot after his mother appearance wise, I doubt he looks anything like his father. So Kayden and Han Seongik not recognising Jiwoo is still valid. As for how he managed to stay under their radar, well, that's something we won't know unless we know their entire past. Anything is possible, really.

So, here's the list of possibilities for Jiwoo's dad

He's dead

He's divorced with Jiwoo's mom

He's in jail

He works in a foreign country like Jiwoo's mom

He's a world class awakened one, possibly a top 10 ranker

[simonnebethel]

~ M+S Words into Potions Event ~

Totally not a banner I just made

I am doing Moon + Seraph's Words into Potions challenge in March! Decided it was a good excuse as any to complete the first draft of my romantasy project(and to also give it a name 😅).

Title: To Hear a Lovebird(may or may not be a placeholder 👀)

Genre: Fantasy, Romance, Adventure

Summary: Prunhilt Helisende, an elven farmer living quietly in a dark forest, is forced to travel with a mercenary after they were both seen together by a group of foreign bounty hunters. Just interacting with the charismatic but mysterious Stigbyrr has put a price over her head, and now she has to travel with him until he can find some way to get her back home safely without the elusive bounty hunters noticing. Along the way, the pair find out more about each other that may effect the already blossoming romance between them, or pull them even closer.

I just started writing this and I have not talked about it much, so I have no links besides a small snippet to share.

Also, have this excerpt.

He brought the mug to his lips again, but stilled at the sight of two figures approaching him. Dietrich the tavern keeper, and the pretty lady who played the waldzither only a few moments ago. “Stigbyrr, this is Prunhilt Helisende. Prune, this is Stigbyrr, the mercenary I told you about,” Dietrich turned to Stig after introducing him. “She has a potential job for you.” Prune stared at him for a few moments before turning away, looking down at the table instead. She explained her problem, but Stig was only half-focused on her strange accent. He instead looked at her dark umber hair that was braided to the side, shorter strands framing her sun-tanned skin. Like most of her kind, she had black eyes. Even the sclera was the same inky shade of black, but in the dim lamplight he could see the faintest shade of red. I’m staring, he thought, and quickly shut his gaping mouth and focused on the lady before him. What was she saying? A beast, in the woods? “What kind of beast?” He asked. Her eyes widened just before she averted her gaze again. “I—I don’t know. It only kills at night, and has sharp claws that fester the wound. Worms come to collect their due faster than I’ve ever seen,” She replied. Most creatures of these woods are relatively harmless, as long as whoever is traveling through them respect the Forest Folk who inhabit them. He traced the rim of his cup as he thought. I couldn’t imagine why a farmer who was born and raised here was suddenly having trouble. “Interesting. I’m not knowledgeable in the beast of these lands, but if it’s a nocturnal creature, then it has to have a den somewhere that it sleeps in during the day. Have many caves in this forest?” She shrugged, appearing unsure. “I suppose we do, but I don’t go wandering unless I have a destination in mind. Exploring is a good way to become a sprite’s plaything.” “Oh,” he nodded, “I know all too well. The Forest Folk where I come from are as cold and unforgiving as the weather.” He tilted his head. “And…are you sure this isn’t just some fairy you accidentally ticked off?” She laughed and shook her head, and Stig swore he never heard a sound so pretty. “No. I dare say we have different experiences when it comes to the Forest folk. Any farmer who resides in this forest has to respect the creatures who have lived here long before them if they wish to dwell in it. I swear I have done nothing to anger a forest spirit.” He sighed and sat back in his chair. A job that will require me to get my hands bloody, but a job nonetheless.“Well, I suppose I won’t know what it is until I kill it, yes? I think it would be safer to look for it in the morning, so you’ll just have to risk another night with it lurking around. I must also ask about my payment.”

[leggerefiore]

Here’s a bittersweet idea/question for you:

Do you think Cyrus would be nicer to Erin when Ingo gets sent to Hisui?

His treatment towards Erin wouldn’t do a complete 180, but he’d be sympathetic and may even relate to Erin a little when Cyllene tells him that the boy is without his father.

Thanks!

Probably, not, no. He still would not view Erin as someone he that wants around Cyllene, especially with how emotional he is. (As hypocritical as that may be.) Part of it is just him unconsciously being overprotective over her and another is just him feeling weird about Erin's more sensitive nature.

Seeing him distraught over losing his father likely feels impossibly foreign to Cyrus since he felt nothing but relief about no longer having to deal with his own. Though, he does understand if he views it from Cyllene's perspective.

At best, he tolerates him more, especially during his definite crying fits. At worst, he tries to ignore him and pretend Cyllene is not hanging out with the sad train man.

Unless you meant like... Child Erin, in which case he is more generally tolerant over all. Yeah, a kid will cry when they lose their parent, but he isn't able to comfort him. He just silently lets Cyllene spend a little extra time playing with him. (And asks Erin's other parent what do they mean that Ingo just vanished.)

Somewhere in Hisui, Ingo is continually disturbed.

[laele25]

To expound on my rant I began last night

If you refused to vote for Harris, you have doomed Palestine and Ukraine, and possibly eastern Europe. Trump has already said he will give Bibi what he wants and won't stand in Putin's way. He wanted to leave NATO last time, this time no one will stop him from doing it. Then Putin will invade Poland and we get to do war in Europe all over again. Oh goody. Once again, history in America is often taught by gym teachers and that might explain why most of my countrymen don't recognize a fascist regime when it's goosestepping towards them.

There will be no student loan forgiveness. Hell, expect to pay more in interest since you know they'll be trying to claw back the profits they lost during the Covid freeze and Biden's attempt to offer some relief. Kiss the SAVE act good-bye.

And the tariffs. For those of you still suffering under the delusions of 'Republicans are better on the economy', he added 8 trillion to National Debt you all hate so much last time. You think he's not going to give himself and his cronies a bigger tax cut this time? Everything will be more expensive, because rich guys like him exported manufacturing to foreign countries decades ago so they could pay starvation wages. And about that. Don't be surprised if they decrease minimum wage or do away with it completely. But hey, Trump promised to not tax tips. You know, because anybody is going to have any money for anything after prices on essentials like food triple. The Supreme Court is lost unless Biden goes nuclear and expands the court by four people. Which I don't see happening, because Democrats have repeatedly proven they can't learn from their mistakes. They will sit on their hands until January 6th, then surrender because 'peaceful transfer of power'.

You think infrastructure is bad now? Just wait. They're going to build their big, beautiful wall and let everything else crumble to dust while contractors fight for big checks to do minimal work. And for all you people who see Trump as the 'no new wars' president, I need to explain to you something. Congress declares war, not the president. So if the defense contractors aren't making enough money from the genocide of the Palestinians and the war on Ukraine, you can expect American boots be sent somewhere to terrorize some brown or black people for profit. And Trump can't do a thing about it, especially as all our generals hate him. About that. They hate him, they control all the guns and armor and he's tried to disenfranchise them and threatened to order them to murder American citizens. So a military coup is a possibility. This is not a good thing either. Military coups do not have a good history of 'restoring democracy'. And speaking of coups, all the Jan. 6 rioters will be pardoned and probably given medals next year. Expect the day to become a holiday in the Trump Riech where MAGAts walk to the capital to shit all over the democracy we once had again.

Oh and don't forget he promised us the Purge of people protesting him in any way. Can't have a fascist regime without a police state and suppressing of freedoms.

And of course, since he plans to dismantle the department of education and the EPA, so be sure to tell your kids how it was far more important to vote for a doddering old white man who promised to make them rich than for them to have an education or clean air and water.

So, all in all, the American experiment has failed miserably and the world is lucky, we won't drag it down with us. History doesn't bode well there either. Get your vaccines while they're still covered by insurance and available. Get long term birth control or sterilized, because banning birth control is also big on their agenda.

[fandom-nursery]

Carlos agere headcanons

Regresses to around 2-4 years old 

He started regressing pretty young while he was still living on the Isle but he hid it from everyone out of fear of what would be done to him if anyone found out 

He tends to run off and hide somewhere when he feels himself start to slip even after he is in Auradon and has people who he can trust to take care of him 

Little Carlos wants very badly to feel safe and loved but is also incredibly anxious 

It takes a long time for him to trust new people and he generally prefers to stay in his room while regressed and only be around the other VKs, Ben, and later Jane

Carlos tends to get pretty quiet while little (and has on several occasions gone totally nonverbal) unless he gets super excited about something in which case he starts talking a mile a minute 

Very easily startled by sudden movements and loud noises 

It took a very long time for Carlos to feel safe enough to nap while regressed but once he does he starts falling asleep the second he’s put in bed 

He loves bathtime! On the Isle things like warm water, bubbles, and bath toys were completely foreign concepts and now that he has access to them he can’t get enough 

He is a lego kid. And a block kid. Really anything where he gets to build he loves

One of his favorite things to do while little is play fetch with dude 

He loves sweets but the other VK’s learned the hard way not to give him too many or he will get a sugar high and become crazy hyper 

He is a messy eater and always needs someone to wipe down his face and hands after meals/snacks 

Evie designed him a little black and white stuffed dog out of fabric scraps that he carries with him everywhere and is incredibly attached to. He got so upset when Evie tried to take it from him so she could wash it once that his crying prompted Mal to create a laundry spell on the spot so they could clean it without taking it away from him 

Evie designed him all sorts of comfortable clothing to wear while he’s little. His favorite outfits are the ones with a lot of pockets so he can carry little trinkets and snacks around with him 

Carlos has a paci on him at all times. If it’s not in his mouth its in one of his pockets 

He does occasionally wear diapers while little. Usually Evie or Jay will ask him if he wants them when he first starts regressing and depending on his answer either change him into them or leave him be 

After their quest for the dragon eye when the four of them all became friends Carlos told them about his regression (although at the time he didn’t have a word for it exactly he just knew that sometimes he felt small). He figured it was only a matter of time before he accidentally regressed in front of them and he wanted to be in control of how they found out 

Ben found Carlos regressed during the first week or so of him being at Auradon prep. Carlos was terrified about being found out and immediately went into a panic. Ben stayed calm and helped comfort him, eventually managing to calm him enough to convince Carlos to let him lead the little back to the dorms where Jay took over. It was one of the things that really helped Carlos start to feel safe in Auradon 

When Carlos started to get close with Jane he told her but she isn’t super confident in her ability to care for him when he's little so she usually isn't around when he regresses 

Evie and Jay are his primary caregivers. Mal does her best but being nurturing with children just doesn’t really come naturally to her so she’s typically more like a fun older sister. Ben also tries his best to be a caregiver and for the most part is however, he didn't grow up on the isle and there are just some parts of Carlos and his regression that Ben will never fully be able to understand because of this. 

Because he doesn’t associate the title of mom or dad with safety, love or care he doesn’t use them when addressing his caregivers and just tends to use their names

[the-good-spartan]

So I know that Spartiates were not allowed to leave Sparta except for military excursions and specific rituals/events because of the extreme isolationist policies, but I read somewhere (I think maybe Plutarch but that could be wrong) that outside of those times only on the rarest occasion with special permission from the government could they leave, which would imply that like while rare it did happen at least once or twice for it to be a noted thing that got recorded. Do you have any speculations or theories as to what kind of circumstance could warrant being granted that permission? The only thing I can think of is if like a wife or child fled or was kidnapped and a citizen got permission to go after them and get them back

Thank you for the ask! Here are my thoughts :)

To begin with, the passage in Plutarch is pretty unequivocal:

Consequently [Lykourgos] did not grant Spartiates permission to be away from the city and to travel freely, acquiring foreign habits and copying lifestyles based upon no training as well as types of government different from that of Sparta. [Lyk 27]

There doesn’t seem to be much wriggle room in that; but because he’s writing very late, it’s possible that he has either exaggerated, or is the inheritor of exaggerated information.

By the Roman period, Classical Sparta had become a philosophical icon and taken on a semi-mythological form. Their culture had gone through at least two, perhaps three, complete cultural breaks and had been revived each time after a lapse of many years. There is a lot of room for incorrect ideas of the past to enter the record in all this - from the Spartans themselves as much as outsiders interpreting what they saw and read.

So. Plutarch may be right, and perhaps we should believe that no homoioi traveled - but my feeling is that this is too strict to be realistic. Spartans do pop up in stories throughout the histories in places other than Sparta (when not on campaign or diplomatic missions, obviously) so we know at least some of them could and did travel.

One idea I really like is that it was only those between the ages of 20 and 30 who were barred from travel - a period when they were homoioi, but not yet technically men (namely, the hebontes). There’s an episode during the Arkhidamian War which might support this reading. A group of young men were chosen to stand as governors in Makedonia - their young age was mentioned quite specifically as making it highly unusual that they’d been sent from Sparta.

There’s also the fact that Spartans are attested as having xenia connections all over Hellas, including Athens, and these must’ve - at least in part - been formed and maintained by attending religious games and festivals. I don’t think it’s too much to imagine a homoios going to another polis to celebrate with friends; and I think it highly likely they sometimes used that event as a chance for back channel diplomacy, intelligence gathering, or just testing the mood of an allied polis - as well as having a good time, hopefully, whatever that looked like for a Spartan.

If they were military aged, they probably would’ve needed permission to leave, but unless they were of known bad character, or there was disturbance going on within Lakedaimons borders, I think it would’ve been granted as a matter of course for the most part.

So - if I was writing a story, and needed someone out of Sparta at a particular time - I’d consider giving him friends who’d invited him to the Dionysia, say; or he’d gone to attend the Eleusian Mysteries; or he had a brother who was a contender in the wrestling at the Isthmian Games. These are all likely scenarios.

I hope this answers your question! :)

[withered-rose-unbreakable-lotus]

Dude I can't deal, I will star blocking. This phrase coming from foreigners living in Japan pisses the hell out of me: "It’s ok if you can’t do that (they mention it's ok if you can't come to Japan rn because it is sth hard to do) but don’t try and think you know what’s going on from overseas."

While we can't know everything, claiming we don't know shit as if it's sth completely out of reach unless you are there sounds so fucking entitled to me. Call me bitter, but most of them have that attitude and there's proof they too don't know as much as they think.

I spoke with a girl who shared some live and meet and greet moments of hers with a favorite jrocker of mine with me and it baffled me how much she complained about some parts of his attitude when all she'd been telling me up to that point were normal to me. There was only one thing she told me I didn't expect from him, the others were pretty expected if you read his interviews and pay attention to how he reacts to things. Like honey. Where you are doesn't matter when it comes to basic human reactions. Also I didn't speak about my experience at Kamijo's live here but basically, even though we don't follow Japanese rules at lives here in Europe, even though I didn't have to do choreos or other things "expected from vkei fans", AND it was the 2nd live I've been ever in my 30 years of life cause nb comes where I live and I never have money to go even to the capital to see American artists, AAAALLL of the atmosphere, the live, dealing with other fans etc. felt like sth I do every day. It's a live dammit, it's not rocket science. And Kamijo, a person I'd never once seen in my life up until that point and had only seen live through my screen felt like he was someone doing something I actually have experienced for a long time rather than sth "new" or "unknown" to me. I was at a foreign country I'd never been before. I was scared shitless to go and believed I would fail every single minute as a fan in that arena. Yet I felt this was normal to me. I knew what to sing, what to scream, how to move, and all that? By learning through a screen. Just because you Ms "if you are not here you don't know shit about vkei" never searched beyond what was available to you on vkei while you weren't living in Japan, doesn't mean that everyone stops there. I see many both Japanese and foreign fans being there being just as shitty to jrockers often as some foreign fans living abroad, as if you literally take everything for face value as well, as if you don't know shit, even though you're there. (Not everyone is shitty, what I'm saying is bad apples exist everywhere)

Want me to take it somewhere away from vkei? While studying with 2 Japanese teachers, there were many times I shared stuff with them I enjoy they didn't have a clue Japan has. They'd been locals and yet, there were things they didn't know. Because it wasn't sth they were interested in. Hell, do you know how many times people tell me shit about Greece I don't know? I'm astounded by the knowledge of foreigners, not living in my country, have about my own country's culture in the past. Japan, just like every other country in the world, is no longer a closed off society you can never know shit about. If you look up things, if you ask the right people, locals, and more importantly if you take time to observe and understand them, you will be surprised with how much you learn.

No I don't know everything. And I sure made mistakes while studying, assuming things about a culture different from mine. But I also experienced 2 types of Japanese women who showed me that knowledge lies in the eye of the beholder and how different can people be depending on their maturity and experiences. My first teacher was ambitious, money oriented and didn't know much about subcultures. I found her shallow and selfish, she also looked down on people with mental disorders cause she came from a family heavily affected by it. She didn't value relationships easily and was quick to judge even if she didn't say a word. That person told me about Yoshiki, Gackt and Hyde from a business point of view. I never realized who Yoshiki was in Japan beyond the music industry. Gackt and Hyde too. I was only seeing photos and reading articles so it was refreshing to see them as businessmen from a business standpoint. This woman and I often didn't see eye to eye cause I valued emotions more than ambition and money, yet she was surprised about how much slang I knew for sb who doesn't live there. She was also surprised I knew stuff about mythology, history, Takarazuka Revue, Japanese traditional theater, butoh (which she'd never heard before) etc. Even about the dark parts of Kabukicho's nightlife where she herself had worked. She did add more to my knowledge on that too. My second teacher was much older, much wiser, friendlier and non judgemental. I loved being taught by her cause she was more human and deeper emotionally than the other one. She didn't live much in Japan, she left around her early 20s and kept going back every now and then, but she knew most things a native would and still was so happy when I told her I knew about Takarazuka (she's a fan :P), she wanted to hear about visual kei, she was surprised I knew about Japanese witches, festivals and many more. One of them gave me the nihongo jouzu attitude Japanese people give foreigners, and the other a true appreciation for my love for her country's culture. The latter also told me where to look for more. She encouraged my thirst to learn more instead of disapproving everything she didn't understand about how I approach things. With that old lady we talked shit about Arashi, we talked about SMAP's disband and the industry of idols and talent agencies in Japan. We held a real conversation with plenty of mutual exchange of information xD.

Do tell me or anyone else who doesn't live in ANY country that when you trully love sth you can't know shit about it unless you experience personally. I dare you. And those of you who keep learning things about things you love every day, keep learning, keep asking and let anyone who aquires knowledge ONLY from personal experience doubt you, just cause their learning abilities are limited like that. It shouldn't be a competition, but when you come for my knowledge without even knowing me, I will bite back, cause I can play the "I'm smarter than you" childish attitude too. Help others learn without putting down what they already know dammit, it's not that hard and you are not being "honest" by saying that shit all the time.

[lurxof--thxmaw]

❝ mono is out of place, and he knows this very well. an old, rickety vessel that he’d boarded via television that was somehow more dangerous than anywhere else he’s been. ( there’s so many people here. ) yet he’s climbed and scampered this way and that, and after so long he hopes he’s closer to the exit.

of course, it would be foolish to assume that danger would lessen. the bag-clad boy is quiet as he creeps along shelves, acutely aware of a threatening presence somewhere nearby. no movement has been made toward him yet, so he assumes he’s undetected.

however, mono is one to take precautions. it’s risky, but he attempts to climb to the next shelf above. the boy makes it, but at the last moment—THUD!—he’s knocked over something with his foot and now his heart is racing and he hastens to hide behind what cover he can. he curls up, makes himself small, gray eyes wide behind his bag and watching in case he needs to make a desperate run. static clings to him and it’s all he can do not to suppress it, lest his panic overtake him. ❞ － @buddymuses

The Lady's humming alts.

Her eyes widen behind the mask, her head snapping in the general direction of the noise. She's completely silent, waiting for an indicator that anyone was there at all － after all, it wouldn't be the first time one one of her relics is knocked over by of the remains she had so generously gifted a second chance at life to. Ungrateful little things, they were. However, upon awakening the primordial power laying within her, it seems that she will have to pin her suspicions elsewhere.

The endless pit of her stomach is not reacting to the presence as it normally would.

No regular soul to be found in her immediate proximity. The ghosts under her... " care " had become incredibly easy to track down over the years. Had it been a regular living child, she would have noticed as well. Well, no. Truth be told, what she perceives is a small essence － one tiny enough to fit in her palm. And yet, something about it makes it irreparably different from all the others she has felt before.

There is a foreign power hiding somewhere in her Residence.

One the Lady wishes to avoid at all costs. In truth, she knows not of what it's abilities are yet － and she most certainly does not wish to find out. She has fled the world for a reason. She does not wish for it to catch up to her. Her quarters are vast, and the sound came from a distance large enough that she could simply slip away as though she had never been there. She could. But should she?

Oh, duties, duties... she cannot let an unknown entity run around the Maw so carelessly. Not unless she wishes to risk the stability of the being of which she is the vessel. Choosing her comfort now would not only be shortsighted, but plain idiotic. With a swift step back, the Lady retreats in the shadows before she speaks, her voice reverberating through every spot the shadows touch:

❝ I can feel your presence. There's no point in hiding away. Come forth. ❞

[the-birdgeoisie]

Theseus' Healing Factor

A Spiderman/Deadpool/Toad/Nightcrawler Marvel Fic cross-posted from AO3 with permission (I'm the author)

Unfinished- indefinite hiatus

TW for all of fic: Awkward non-enthusiastic sex scene, depression, dark themes, general 🔞 dialogue

Previous

Next

Start

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Chapter 1:

Sunrise and Sunken Cardboard

Reality is a funny thing.

Not ha-ha funny, like landing face-first on a curb epic-fail style; but surreal funny, funny in the way people really think they know what’s real, despite only ever having one viewpoint in an infinite scope of viewpoints. Funny in the way one can be so adamant that their thoughts are the real ones, the true ones, without knowing any others.

With such little knowledge of the world, how could you possibly know your ‘real’ wasn’t someone else's ‘fiction?’ That there, too, might be a ‘reality’ where you were simply words on a page- pictures in a book. 

//Bit too meta for me//

[I don’t think these words are wording properly- do it again]

“Leave the author alone, I’m still hoping for a happy ending here!”

//Have we been reading the same comics? Happy endings aren’t really our thing//

[He meant it dirty]

//I stand corrected//

Reality. The word humans use to compartmentalize their personal experiences into something deceptively labeled tangible.

That is- unless you’re of a mind that sees through that superficial coding of ‘real’ and ‘fake’

[Gasp! Are they talking about us?]

For Deadpool, ‘reality’ wasn’t a factor- real and fake were synonymous, life was what one made it. 

[They’re definitely talking about us!]

But for some, the very concept of choice was foreign.

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

On the very edge of a skyscraper, somewhere up in the skies of NewYork, sit the pair of red-suited companions. They bump shoulders, legs dangling, playfully shoving the other with no fear of plummeting to pavements below- and there’s a comfort here. A familiarity in each other, a freedom in being on top of the world.

They watch early risers filing into their respective places of work, slink into coffee shops, suffer in early traffic. They all seemed so distant, unreal and ant-like. Up here in their blanket of sky, early morning still dark enough to hide them, it almost felt like none of that could touch them. They were safe here, far away from human reality.

“I got one. Mesmero, Jigsaw, and Triathlon.”

Peter makes a face at the two familiar names, scrunched in distaste. But the third one causes him to pause. “...Who is Triathlon?”

“You don’t know 3-D Man? He was an Avenger-”

“...was he?”

“-and an X-Man!”

“I’ve never heard of him Wade, and I know every Avenger.”

“Clearly not every Avenger, or you would know 3-D Man.”

The pair look at each other for a moment in a silent standoff. Peter gives first. “Fine. Kill Mesmero- he’s always creeped me out.”

“Noted.”

“Don’t actually- when I agreed to play this game you said you wouldn’t take it seriously.”

“I’m not I’m not! Keep going, we’re at the juicy bits!”

“...fuck Jigsaw.”

Wade gasps mockingly, mouth comically wide in an ‘o’ shape and hands on his face. “Spidey!”

“Did you want me to marry him??”

“You’re going to marry the guy you don’t even know??”

“You said he was an Avenger! And my other two options were supervillains!”

“For shame, Spidey. What would your band of good-do-wells say?”

Peter gives the man a flat look. 

“You do this on purpose.” Peter turns, sweeping his legs up from the ledge and onto the solidness of cement roofing, sliding off the ledge completely and sitting flat on the roof so he can lean against it instead, out of view. He tips his head up to rest where he was just sitting, temple pressed against the others thigh. Without his mask on he can feel the warm leather there, and he tries not to think about how close in proximity he is to Wade’s arsenal.

But his Spidey-sense is quiet, and so is the city- for now.

“...Nova, Tiger Shark, War Machine.”

“I feel like I’m being set up here.”

“Why?”

“There’s only one villain.”

“So? Mine only had one hero.”

“And you chose to marry him! If I don’t kill the villain you’ll think I’m making the wrong choice.”

“That’s not…really how the game works.”

“It’s how you work.”

“What, you don’t want to kill him?” Wade is silent, and Peter stares up at him bewildered. “What’s your list???”

“Kill War Machine”

“What???? Why??”

“He’s mean. And probably bad in bed.”

“What do you mean he’s mean??” Peter can feel the fit of laughter hammering in his chest, and it hurt a bit to keep suppressed. He felt a bit hysterical, everything too surreal. 

“He is!”

“Hhokay-” Peter says, breathing in so he doesn’t let the laughter escape. “Continue before I die of suspense.” 

“Marry Nova…”

“You wanna fuck Tiger Shark??” 

“He has good stamina-”

He is cut off by a sudden wheezing sound from his friend, finally letting his laughter escape in a complete fit.

“Wade-”

“Jigsaw is better??”

“I can’t-” The spider barely manages to get out through bursts of laughter. He hides his face in Wade's side, shaking with uncontrollable fits.

He doesn’t notice the other man go silent beside him- or the way he carefully watches him, studying the red clad spider as if he was a foreign concept entirely. Wade takes a deep breath, which Peter mistakes as him calming his own laughter, and he gently puts his hand on Peter’s shoulder- so careful Peter hardly notices through the laughter.

Peter calms, taking a deep breath in to steady himself, the scent of worn leather and led. He notices Wade now, placing his hand over the one on his shoulder. And it was strange. But it was nice. All these years fighting beside each other, they had gotten close- closer than Peter had initially wanted, of course- but he’s so grateful now that he let Wade into his life. Their relationship was still…complicated. Unlabeled and seeming to constantly shift- but these moments of familiarity really were the highlights of his life. 

For a moment some irrational part of him thinks he can sleep here, like this. They had been up all night ‘patrolling’ (mostly talking) and Peter hadn’t been sleeping even when they weren’t. Surely being here was better than going back to his shit hole apartment, falling apart and too empty for a nearly thirty year old to be living there. Surely they could stay like this just a little longer- maybe find some labels in the comforting silence…

But cars honk. And people shout unpleasantries to each other. The sun rises, and it’s no longer viable to stay here, pretending.

He was so tired…but the world goes on.

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

Didn’t this just feel like a dream? Spidey- [His Spidey!!!] the Spiderman; real and a whole entire tangible person was sitting so casually with him, laughing and familiar and unmasked. Deadpools number one ‘idol and ogle’, in the flesh! 

It had been years since Deadpool had learned Peters identity- not that it was entirely surprising

[Except for the trying to kill him part]

//He wasn’t a fan of that//

And since then, the two had gotten much closer.

There had always been some form of understanding between them, some layer of friendship underneath the bickering, but Peter’s identity reveal had let down a wall unlike anything else could have. Something changed then; late night outings became a comfortable routine, home visits being surprisingly frequent as well- suddenly they were talking like they had never before, real words with stakes in their lives, things that really mattered. They weren’t just familiar with each other- they knew each other, intimately.

[Ha! Intimately~]

//Not intimately enough- kiss already you fools!//

Perhaps most surprising of all was that Wade had felt comfortable enough to introduce Peter to his daughter- someone he wanted far away from this life. He knew Spiderman would never do anything to hurt her- but there was always that chance. Always that fear.

At least without the mask, he’d know who to kill.

//Given how he reacted to you-know-what, I don’t think that’s a concern//

Being known was an unpleasant and terrifying experience, but there was a comfort in it too- the knowledge that someone knows the worst you’ve done and been through and cares about you anyway, that someone has your back.

Now, he wouldn’t go back- wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not when Peter had his head pressed to Deadpool's leg, half asleep, moppy brown hair half-hiding his face from ‘Pools view. Not when he was holding his hand like this- not when they had crossed that line into something far stronger than work-buddies. 

//There’s still lines we could cross//

[Babies ‘First’ Clothing-Optional Sleepover?]

//Clothing is always optional//

“And scar the man with Schrödinger's Scrotum?”

Peter stirs from his half-asleep slump, looking up at the other man in confusion. “What?” He blinks a few times, trying to remember if they had been having a conversation (fuck he was so, so tired) “Are you talking to me?”

“If you don’t see ‘em, then you can’t react to ‘em- so it’s simultaneously good and bad, depending on the reaction, but you don’t know the reaction until you see ‘em.”

Peter blinks again groggily. “Are you trying to seduce me with quantum superpositions?”

“Is it working?”

//So we’re just pretending that’s what that was//

[We are if it works]

“I’m way too tired for this.” He yawns, dragging his hands down his face. “But I don’t think that’s how the thought experiment goes.” Peter meets the others gaze, though his deadpan look loses effect with the addition of horribly tossed hair and sleepy eyes. “If you’d like to try again, my office hours are from eight to ten.” His gaze drifts past Wade, towards the sunrise. “...maybe twelve to one, today.”

//Did he just say he wanted us naked in his office?//

[I’ve had this dream before- but it had a twist ending]

Deadpool wiggles his ‘eyebrows’, tying Peter’s words into knotts in his mind, finding humor instead of feeling- but before he can cook up a flirt-to-flirt with his main Spider, Peter turns his head away, expression sunken and lost in thought. 

The Windows reboot sound jump-starts Deadpool’s mind back to the real world, where Spidey is a whole entire tangible being who has a whole entire life that has nothing to do with him, and where any teasing words were just that, words, with no real-world weight. Jokes and not suggestions.

[Dunno, sounded pretty weighty to me]

/a whole cargo ship of weight/

[we could get jacked on how much weight there is]

/and we’re not even tangible beings- that’s how much weight there was!/

Peter sighs, slowly standing, and casts a look down at his companion. “I really should get going though. I need whatever sleep I can manage before dealing with the adulting world again.”

“You saying knock off halloween stand-ees aren’t big-boy enough for you?” 

“When they said ‘real adults wear suits’ I don’t think they meant green and purple ones filled with bullet holes.”

“...Do you wear a suit?”

[Gasp! Business-Spidey, limited edition!]

There’s a choked sound from the web-head, a scoff turning into held laughter “No?? Are you kidding, I could never pull that off.”

Deadpool nods sagely “Because of how tight it would be.”

/that’s certainly a mental image/

[aaaand saving it into the naughty folder]

“No not because-” Peter exhales, shaking his head “You’re stalling.”

[Are we stalling?]

/I was stalling/

“I would never.”

[/He would never!/]

“You’re right, Spidey needs his beauty rest! You should go, be a productive member of society, leave the hooligans to their…hooliganry.” 

“...uhuh. And what are you going to do?”

“...Hooliganry?” All he receives from the other man is a flat look “Stalking the night-” /day/ “prowling for targets, unsuspecting civilians who will never see it coming- and out of nowhere, bam! Burrito in the face!! I’m a real menace.” 

The red-clad spider smiles affectionately “Do you want a ride home, burrito menace?’

[Yes!!]

/No! He’s tired enough as it is!/

[But it’s not every day we get the chance to go chest to chest with Spidey!]

/He’s swung us home three nights this week/

[Which isn’t every day!]

“...I’m good. I need to stop somewhere. Real important big-boy stuff, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Sure, sure.” Peter makes a move as if to leave- but stops for a second. “I’ve got another round-”

“It was my turn.”

“Well. Humor me. Thor. Wolverine. Aaaaand-” He takes a step back, on the edge of the building. “Spiderman.” He says with a smirk, slipping his mask back on before he whisks himself away on his own webs momentum. For a moment DPs mind tricks him into thinking Peter had blown him a kiss seconds before taking off, but he knows that thought goes in the delusional category. “Later Wade!” He hears in the distance. 

Deadpool watches him go, always a bit transfixed by the contradictory way the man could look so weightless yet so purposeful in movement, an ebb and flow of freedom and the forceful pull of gravity. “That’s just evil.”

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

The streets layed in grids of sinking buildings and far-too-close homes, the ‘roads’ were practically dirt, littered with holes and cracks. Deadpool could tell he was getting closer to his destination with every abandoned vehicle in his path, giving them a cursory glance as he passed, half-heartedly checking for anyone using them as residence.

He ignored the ‘No Trespassing’ signs and the curious glances hidden in the corner of windows and behind gaps in the wood frames. Most of them had gotten used to his presence here, but others were still skeptical. Still afraid he would turn them in, or label them as one of his marks. 

Deadpool kept a lighthearted jaunt to his step, practically skipping down the street while waving to any person he saw watching him- they all kept their distance. He clenched his bag of burritos in one hand, holding the arm of his unicorn backpack with his other as he spun towards an ally of sorts. It was more of a hole, really, a sunken part of  where two houses used to meet. A quick duck through the beams and rubble, down through the remains of a house no longer liveable, towards the back where the abandoned bed of a small semi truck lay lopsidedly tucked between the rubble and the cement of a building's wall- surrounded by cut fencing, half tore open but haphazardly patched together with layers of cardboard and newspaper. 

The red-suited merc taps his knuckle lightly on the structure a few times, careful to only hit the metal part and avoid disturbing the painstakingly layered false walls, his backpack slipping lower down his arm at the disturbance. “Oh frog priiiince~” He takes note of the soggy half-disintegrated state of the lower wall; clearly they had gotten another flood recently. “Your princess is here~” Deadpool tilts his body to the side, peeking through the gap in the ‘door’ of the structure. “Y’ home, slimeball?” There’s a wish of sound to his right, like a whip thunking against the cardboard, a thick but wet sound that was likely intended as a warning. “Good- I brought you a gift!” There’s no response from inside, and Deadpool takes that as his invitation; rearranging himself so that his backpack and bag of food are held against his chest, protecting them with his arms as he squishes through the opening- swords scraping lightly against the metal bits.

Once inside he does a quick sweep of his surroundings, noting the disarray of his friends usual organized belongings; the backpack normally tucked under the frog's only blanket was open and scattered across the floor, most of its belongings torn or broken in some way. The blanket itself was frayed and wet, bunched into a corner with a knocked over pile of trash as its only company. The frog-man sat hunched in one of the corners (the only one with full metal coverage) surrounded by bits and parts of metal and machine parts. The merc lets out a long whistle, half-heartedly kicking away a takeout container. “You get into a fight again, or is this the newest in home decor?”

“Storm fucked my shit.” The hunched toad doesn’t look up, just continues to screw together some kind of device Deadpool had no hope of figuring out. “Whaddya want, Big-Red-and-Nasty.”

“Now now, what did I say about respecting your elders young man!” The merc says in something of a mocking tone as he plops down across from the other man.

“Again- not a kid. Just small. Fuck off.” He gasps as if to catch his breath and a coughing fit takes over the man; he folds in on himself, covering his face in his lap to muffle the noise and gasping for air.

//Because being malnutritioned is better//

[I’d rather be a skeleton than be a kid again]

//you were never a kid- we aren’t even real//

“So rude, I’m hurt! No, really. Just crushed.” Deadpool hangs his head, giving a show of his best puppy eyes (though it’s a strange sight, the white eyes of his mask comically wide). “So you don’t need this, then?” He pouts, unzipping his unicorn backpack to show the miscellaneous machine parts hidden within.

//Is this emotional manipulation?//

[Only if the person you’re talking to has feelings.]

“I like to think of it as a trade beneficial to both parties.”

[What do we get out of it?]

“Lifelong friendship?”

//Bombs.//

[Ooooh I’m in!]

This gets the others attention, he carefully un-bunches himself and gives a half-glare half-puzzled expression to the man sitting across from him. “Dude, what?” His eyes land on the backpack full of parts and they widen. “Whad’ya do, rob a stinkin’ robot??”

“A few machinery-inclined super shits taken down, a few bombs disabled- all in the days work of hero~”

He almost gives the man a skeptical look, Deadpool catching the start of it before it fizzled out, but the man couldn’t take his eyes off of the bag. “Ain't no way they let you keep this shit. What’s your pal Spider-prick think of it?”

[Gasp! He insulted Spidey!]

//Kill him. Kill him with fire.//

[No- kill him with katanas!]

//…I wasn’t being serious.//

[Well I am]

//Though fire might actually improve this place//

“Oh, Spidey’s a big fan. Reuse, recycle, take from the baddies and give to the frogs in cardboard sheds. Pretty sure that’s the saying. Good for the economy. Has Spidey written all over it.”

The skeptical look comes back, the smaller man finally dragging his eyes away from the stuffed backpack and up to look Deadpool in the eyes, his sickly yellow ones meeting the pure white of the masks. “He a real philanthropist, huh?”

“Spidey is all about helping people- sigh” he says the word ‘sigh’ vocally, joining his hands next to his face in a mock fashion of dreamyness and looking up into the ‘ceiling’ as if seeing Spiderman in a heroic cape and pose in his mind's eye. “He’s my hero”

The frog man looks away from the scene, scrunching up his face in a way that looks pained. “Yeah, well. I ain’t never seen him in The Hole”

Deadpool stops his theatrics, hands dropping into his lap as he studies the other. “He saves the city from super-charged threats…can’t be everywhere.”

“No, you can’t. But you can be somewhere sometimes. Dude’s gotta have some off days- not like there’s some big villain every day.”

Deadpool thinks of the dark bags he can see under Spideys eyes whenever he takes his mask off- the deep worry lines, the hazy far away eyes. The rush to work after sleepless nights of saving the city. “He’s doing the best he can; Hero-ing is a lot of pressure.”

[Can we kill him now?]

//It wouldn’t be hard, he’s awful sickly//

“Yeah I’m sure-” he gasps again, coughing it out in a huff before breathing in sharply once more. “But you’re here.”

“I am” Deadpool says, ignoring the implication. “And I brought tadpole food.” He holds up the bag of food, brown paper stained with grease, a small taco mascot printed on the front in faded black lines.

He eyes the bag warily, but can’t ignore the hungered pain in his stomach. The man sighs something defeated, sweeping out his leg to carefully push his project to the side, letting the red-clad intruder come closer. And he does, turning so his back is to the wall and scooting in next to his truck bed companion.

Deadpool carefully lays out their dining options; a handful of burritos in all sizes, multiple fast food chimichangas, five or so hard tacos, and a surprising amount of tamales. “Juuuuust a second” he adds, holding up a finger as a gesture to wait. He carefully dumps the machine parts out of his bag, making a pile off to the side before digging into the bag, pulling out a couple cans of coke from the smaller pocket and putting them in between him and his reluctant friend. Lastly he pulls a blanket from the bottom, thin but heavy, and drops it over the frog man- who lets out a surprised yelp at the attack.

The small man jumps back on instinct, head still lost in the blanket, and Deadpool quickly puts his arm between the man’s head and the metal wall behind them before he lands full-force against it. “Whoops, hand slipped-” the red-clad merc says as he pulls the blanket off the other, realizing that he made a mistake in startling the guy.

The frog-man is back to full glaring when his face is reemerged, holding onto himself and shrinking inward to make himself as small as possible. “Why are you such an asshole”

“Y’know that voice in your head that tells you not to do stuff? Mine does the opposite.”

[Hey- don’t blame us]

“Or maybe. I’m just an asshole.” His tone remains light, but not unserious.

“It was rhetorical” The amphibian grumbles under his breath, tucking his head into the space between his drawn-up legs and his chest. “You come here just to fuck with me? I got enough shit to deal with, mans.”

“I came here to share the wonderful world of enchiladas and stolen machinery. Any fuckery that happens along the way is purely by chance.”

The folded man huffs something between a sigh and a scoff, rolling his head on his knees to look at the other man. “Thought you said it was ‘ethically sourced’ or some shit”

“Ethically stolen.” 

The small man just stares at him, not quite vacant but not fully present either, suddenly wisped away somewhere in memory. He frowns, and Deadpool tilts his head to the side to try and match the others line of sight.

The amphibian huffs again, this time sounding a lot more like a laugh. “You sound like some jerk I used to know.”

“Yeouch!” The red-clan man exclaims, moving his head back and tipping it against the wall instead. “That’s definitely an insult for one of us!”

//More So for the jerk in question, I’m sure//

“Nah, he was ‘aight. I mean- he was a little shit, but we both were. It was kinda like…our thing.” His shoes suddenly became very interesting, every scuff and stitched-together old cut. “We din’t really agree on a lotta stuff, but he also din’t push me ‘bout stuff. And turns out he was a pickpocket too, where he used to live. When I asked ‘im about it he said the same thing. ‘Ethically stolen’. Thought that was a cool way ‘a putin’ it.”

Deadpool studies the ceiling, metal and half caved in wet cardboard. “Did he live out here too?”

“Snk- no.” There was an actual smile on the small man's face, though a bit too tight. “He lived in a freken mansion, man. Like, full courtyard and basketball court ‘n shit.”

“That why he’s a ‘used to know’?” The merc raises an ‘eyebrow’ questioningly. “Some rich kid couldn’t handle the life and turned into jerk city or something?”

The smile is short lived, replaced with a furrowed brow. “He wasn’t ‘some rich kid’ he was- I dunno. Some rich guys pet project or some shit- he was-” He stops, letting out a frustrated sigh and messing up his face with his hands. “I don’t know. Whatever it was, it was fucked man! And then the whole fucking place blew up- I don’t even know if those fucks are still alive!”

//Oh, good. You’ve stepped in it again//

[Stepped in what?]

//Someone else's trauma, apparently//

“....What was his name?”

//What are you doing?//

The small one's head whips towards Deadpool, scowl still in place. “Dude, what? I’m not telling you shit. I already said too much to some guy who don’ even know me.”

“If you know his name, I can figure out if he’s alive, is all.”

//Since when do we take jobs from cardboard boxes?//

[The more important question is why aren’t we eating those chimichangas already]

The others eyes widen, disbelieving. “Even if I did trust you with that- which I don’t, what makes you so fucken qualified? And why are you doing all this shit? With the food and the blanket- the machine parts I get. Cuz I build you shit. That makes sense. But the rest of it? Suspicious as hell man.”

“Can’t have my best gadget guy keeling over! You’re a frog or something- with all this cold I’m surprised you’re not frozen!”

“Frogs n’ toads can survive bein’ frozen.”

“And I just so happen to be the best mercenary there is. If he’s out there, I can find him. Typically it involves a lot more stabbing- but I’m willing to ignore that part for the sake of reunions.”

[I’m not]

Deadpool whips out a burner phone from his belt pouch, tossing it to his small friend. “Aaaand I can send you updates!”

The amphibian man shoots out his tongue to catch the phone, dropping it into his hands. “You can’t just give me a phone.”

“It’s a burner, and I’ve got backups. So?”

He mulls it over, studying the burner in his palms. “...you really think you can find him.”

“Alive or corpsed, on delivery!”

He flinches on the word ‘corpsed’ but doesn’t lose his resolve. “...It’s Kurt. Wagner, I think. He’s a blue fuckin elf or some shit- pointy ears and tail.”

The merc nods, in job-mode. “Unlisted mutant, I’m assuming.”

“Don’ know. Not really sure what they did in that place- but he was goin’ incognito at school, so probably. I don’t think anyone knew mutants existed, back then.”

‘Oh- they did. ‘Least the peeps in charge did- anything else?’

“He’s German, didn’t move here until he was fifteen. Was part of the X-geeks.”

“Gasp! An X-Man! I’m an honorary X-Man, you know. They love me over there.”

He gives the larger man a look somewhere between disgust and affront. “Is every other thing you say a lie?”

“No for real, me and Wolvie go way back. We’re blood brothers except with more sexual tension.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“SO much- I’ll write you a biography;” He stands in a swift motion, scooping up his now-empty backpack. “Right now I got a job to do.”

“You’re starting now? Wad’about all this food you brought?”

[Don’t leave the chimichangas!!]

Deadpool swoops down to quickly grab a chimichanga, stuffing the whole thing in his mouth and making his way towards the exit. “Kmf it! Awl yors!!”

“Wait!” The amphibian grabs the project he had been fiddling with, tossing it towards ‘Pool. “This is yours.”

Deadpool swallows his mouthful in a painful sounding gulp “Whatsit do?”

“Does this thing called ‘throw it at someone and find out’”

“My favorite kind of thing! How’d you know, Froggy?”

“Get lost fucker.” There’s no heat to the words this time, the ghost of a smile creeping back onto his amphibious friend's face.

Deadpool salutes him, kicking out his leg at the same time he ends the salute, spinning back towards the exit with the movement and slipping past the opening and back through the rubble.

Alone again, Todd examines his gift from the strange man, wondering how all this will work. He half heartedly picks at the corn husk of a tamale, unsure and no longer hungry enough to open it, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong.

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[that-starlit-wanderer]

In light of the Nippon Steel decision, I've been thinking this morning about all the ways the Biden administration fucked up. Not necessarily in terms of what would have been good for Biden politically, but more big-picture stuff:

-Support for Israel. Even if you want to argue that this was necessary politically, I would make the case that Americans don't care that much about foreign policy unless US troops are actually dying somewhere, and while there was never a scenario where any US administration was going to completely turn against Israel, taking a harder line was well within the range of things Biden could have done without suffering substantial blowback imo; he chose not to.

-Failure to make a forceful case against Trump's trade and economic policies, e.g. tariffs, protectionism, etc. The fact that Biden is still blocking the Nippon Steel deal even when there's no political benefit for him to do so any longer suggests that, much like Zionism, industrial protectionism is just something he personally agrees with.

-Complete failure of his administration to mount any kind of pushback against the "border is out of control" narrative, and even seeming to accept that narrative (for blatantly political reasons in an election year ofc, but they only needed to do this because they never tried to push back on it before an election year!) in a way that's probably semi-permanently shifted the Overton window around immigration to the right.

-Failure to even try to hold Trump accountable for Jan. 6 until it was way too late. You can argue that this is more Merrick Garland's fault than Biden's, but Garland serves at Biden's pleasure and if this was something Biden wanted to see done he could have and should have been going after this as soon as he took office. In hindsight I think both Biden and a lot of congressional Republicans probably just naively assumed Trump's political career was over in 2021, and there was nothing to be gained politically from trying to prosecute him for insurrection (that was certainly Mitch McConnell's shitty justification for not voting to impeach Trump when he had the chance, even though he claimed to agree that an impeachable offense had been committed).