#what the fuck ever I never matter to anyone

[seungfl0wer]

*Daddy Chan*

Daddy Series:

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

Contains Smut:

A/N: I could have kept going with this and yes it’s already long. But like- Chans the definition of this series ok? 😂

-💜

•He’s just in his element.

•If any of them have a daddy thing it’s 100% him.

•He treats you like a princess.

•Spoils the fuck out of you.

•Gets grumpy when you try and pay for anything because how dare you.

•He’s such a gentleman.

•You’ll never have to open your own doors.

•He enjoys taking long showers together and after

•He loves having you sit infront of him brushing your hair for you.

•Matching outfits, matching jewelry.

•He’s so easy to talk to too.

•If you’re having a bad day, you know you can just curl up with him and cry.

•He’s great at consoling you when anything happens.

•Holding you tightly to him as he reminds you about how amazing you are.

•He’s super clingy honestly.

•If you’re with him he’s always gotta be touching you in some way.

•Hand holding, Legs touching. Something.

•You keep him more grounded than you probably know.

•He finds almost anything you do super cute.

•Oh this man just gets all cheesy when you’re pouting. Finds it so fucking cute.

•Definitely doesn’t have a whole folder of songs for your birthday or anniversary.

•You’re literally like a fire to him and he’s the moth.

•It’s really hard to ever really really upset him.

•He’s pretty level headed.

•Most days if you’re being grumpy or cranky he’ll sit with you asking what’s the matter and how he can help.

•If you’re giving him attitude almost always he can make you stop with just that look.

•He has the habit of telling you way to sweetly “fix your attitude princess or I’ll have to fix it for you. Be good for daddy”

•He’s really to soft, but when he needs to be stern he does it in a way that still makes you feel so safe.

•He’s really just a safe space. You’ll never feel like your emotions are too much with him.

•He constantly will reassure you.

•He sends you such loving messages too, long paragraphs of why he loves you.

•Never not having a good morning or good night text. Even if you just got off the phone.

•It feels like taboo to him not too.

•He’s not a super jealous type, but he’s protective.

•He knows you love him so much, your eyes never leaving his.

•But how can he trust others when you’re just so cute.

•He’ll hover over you when you’re out sometimes. Like he’s waiting. Ready to attack anyone who dares upset him princess.

•Constantly hugs yous tightly burring himself into you saying “mine” cutely.

•He’s really just wrapped around your finger and he’s fine with that.

ੈ♡˳Smut Below

•He has almost 2 personality’s.

•The super sweet loving one where he wants to take it so slow.

•He’ll eat you out for hours making sure you cum before you even fuck.

•He talks so much. He talks you through it 100%.

•He makes just as much noises as you do tbh.

•He’s a missionary lover for sure.

•Always wanting to see your pretty face. Plus how else is he gonna kiss you?

•He’s just so sensual and passionate.

•Other times he- can just lose himself.

•Stressful day? He’s having you on your knees while he face fucks you.

•He’s definitely into free use with you especially waking you up with head or his dick just slowly pushing into you.

•All with complete consent. He’ll never do anything without asking you prier and establishing boundaries.

•Has a safe word and does the color system.

•He can get ahead of himself sometimes. Losing it with you.

•Pushing your face into the bed fucking you like he hates you.

•Those beautiful hands of his leaving bright red hand prints on your ass.

•Or wrapped around your neck like a choker. He also really enjoys having you suck his fingers.

•Breeding kink. Breeding kink. Breeding kink.

•He’s also somehow so good at degrading you while making it sound so- sweet?

•”My dirty little princess, you’re soaked just from kissing?”

•He has one of those machines that can fuck you while he’s not home. And of course a custom made dildo that is a mold of his cock.

•Loves FaceTiming you while on tour guiding you through your orgasm.

•Always teases you and doesn’t let you cum at first. Not until you’re begging well enough.

•This man is also team remote vibe.

•He just thinks it’s so damn adorable watching you squirm while you’re out.

•He’s not much better though. He can’t keep his hands to himself.

•Could be having dinner out and he’s gonna be knuckles deep into your sopping hole till he can’t handle it.

•100%. Fucks you infront of mirrors. Not only so you can watch how well he fucks you.

•But so he can tell you things like “look how beautiful you are when you’re cumming around my cock”

•Like I said he’s definitely a talker so something’s he says are:

•”Daddy’s gonna fill you so full princess. I’m gonna fuck you till I know you’re pregnant.”

•”Don’t you run from me, I’m not done with you yet”

•”God it’s like you were made to take my cock princess.”

•”Daddy loves you, love you so fucking much.”

•And one of his favorites “you say you can’t take it anymore but you’re pretty hole is telling me she wants more”

•King of aftercare.

•On days he goes a little harder he’s making sure you know he loves you.

•He has you wrapped in his arms while he talks to you.

•Likes to sing to you to calm you down from intense orgasms.

•Warm baths with candles, and snacks.

•Kinda like Minho he puts one of his hoodies in the dryer for you.

•Making sure it smells like him before he wraps you in the warmth.

•You’re basically trapped for a while because he just wants to hold you.

•He really loves you and he wants to make sure you always know that.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat @troublemaker02 @tr-mha-fan @lunearta @velvetmoonlght @minghaosimp @ldysmfrst @felixleftchickennugget @0omillo0 @jellymochii @stilltrynafuckingtumble @catlove83 @delulkpopstan143 @hyunjins-orange-slice-too

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 4- Forced Proximity

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic.

CW: medical stuff, use of weapons, cannon typical violence, death.

AN: 2 parts in under 24 hours? I have to focus on my main projects I can't focus with this part sitting in my drafts.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

AO3

“You’re really going to make me go into Al Qatala territory with nothing?” You ask as Ghost prepares his weapon. 

“What do you mean you’re going in with the best of us.” Soap says winking at you. You frown at him looking back over at Ghost. 

“Just give me my pistol back. What? You think I'm going to shoot him?” You scoff. There’s silence in the room, you look around. Yes, yes they do think that. You sigh, zipping your jacket up and going over to the door. 

You wait in silence as Ghost comes to stand next to you. He’s dressed in full gear and you’re in basic clothes, not even anything camouflaged. 

“Here.” Gaz comes over to you handing you a radio and an earpiece. You frown at him. 

“I don’t know how to use this.” You say. 

“You’ll figure it out.” He says walking back over to the sofa with Price who’s been watching you the whole time. You clip the radio onto your belt and put the earpiece in fiddling with what you think is the volume tuner. 

“Ready?” Ghost asks. You look up at him and nod. “How far is this place again?” 

“A few kilometres east.” You respond. He reaches over, handing you a knife hilt first. You almost want to laugh at him. 

“Can’t do much with a knife.” You say, it’s spitfull, you want your gun back. You take the knife regardless.

“You can do alot with a knife.” He says and reaches down opening the door and walking out into the night. 

“Good luck.” Price calls. You look back at him and nod. 

You tuck the knife into your belt and follow Ghost into the darkness. 

…

“How did you know about this place?” Ghost asks as you make it to the entrance of the town.

“It was taken over by Al Qatala about a year ago. Been pretty much abandoned since then.” You say, the wind has picked up and you can see thick clouds in the sky blocking out the light from the moon.

“The ULF don’t come this far north, it’s a good way point for smugglers.” You say. You’ve passed through here many times. 

“You really seem to hate the ULF.” He says as a matter of fact.

“They’re both as bad as each other. If anything Konni have been the best, at least for work.” 

“Doesn’t bother you, they're helping terrorists.” He says, there's a bitterness in his voice. 

“The ULF killed my father in a hospital.” You say, anger rises in you. “I never got to say goodbye, I never got to see his body.” 

“You said your mum worked for them.” 

“She did, she was killed by Al Qatala, she was working for Farah.” You say, he doesn’t say anything. You make it to the top of the street. 

“Right.” You say pointing down the road. You walk down in silence, there are some streetlights working rigged up by whoever is using this town for now. 

“What about you? You’re British living a comfy life. What are you doing here?” You ask. 

“We’re after someone.” 

“In Al Qatala? It’s pretty clear you’re friendly with the queen bee.” He shakes his head.

“No.” He says stopping. You hum looking over at him. His eyes are darting around. You look into the darkness of the town, you can’t see or hear anything. 

“Ever killed anyone?” He asks suddenly and keeps walking. 

“Maybe.” You say trying to sound confident. “Why should it matter, you’re a soldier, you took an oath before you killed people. At least I’m doing it to keep innocent people alive.” 

“You smuggle people for Konni, Makarov.”

“I’ve smuggled people for the ULF too, like I said, I work for whoever pays.” He scoffs. You’re surprised, he usually seems so reserved. There’s a reason for the mask. 

“Proper opportunist aren't you?” You can hear the sarcasm in his voice. 

“Fuck you.” You snap, shaking your head. You go turn the corner ignoring his remarks. Suddenly he grabs your arm and pulls you between some buildings. 

“Get the fuck off-” he slams his hand over your mouth pulling you against his chest. You start to fight him then you hear voices. You stop struggling as they get closer.

“The place is empty, why are we back here?” You hear one of them say in arabic. 

“Khaled wants to take this place over. Use it to cut off the ULF movements.” Someone else replies. Does Ghost understand arabic? You assume he doesn’t. 

“I thought I would be home with my family before the end of the month.” 

“When was the last time you saw them?” The other asks as you watch them pass past you. 

“10 months ago.” 

“You’ll see them soon, mashallah.” They walk out your view, their lights fading, leaving you back in darkness. Ghost’s hand leaves your mouth, your heart is hammering in your chest. He lets you stand up, releasing his grip round you. You want to thank him, they would have killed you if they’d seen you. How did he even hear them coming?

“Let's move.” he whispers, pushing past you out towards the street. You follow him close as you walk out into the street, sticking close to the buildings and following the shadows. 

“Up there to the left.” You say pointing at a building ahead of you both. The place is surrounded by a chain link fence. The building looks more rundown than you remember.

“Round the back there's a smashed in door, I doubt it’s been repaired.” You say behind Ghost, still trying to keep your voice low. 

“Copy.” He says. You let him lead, following him close to the building. He pulls something off his vest cutting the links in the fence. He holds it open, nodding at you to sneak through. You go through first heading over to the door. It’s open, you can see from here. You just hope the place hasn’t been raided too hard. 

The place is dark, there are no lights, no electricity. Ghost comes in behind you clicking on a torch. He hands you another one, you take it out his hands turning it on and shining it over the signs. 

“Who taught you English?” He asks. 

“My parents said if I wanted to go anywhere in life I should learn English. I was brought up speaking both.” You keep the fact you can speak Russian silent. Don’t ask, don’t tell. The more advantages you have over them the better. 

“Here.” You say shining the torch over a room that says surgery. The room looks like it’s just been closed up for the night. Cupboards are still full of sterile supplies. That's good, you should be able to find everything you need.

“I’m going to check for other supplies. Are you good here?”  You look over at him nodding and pick up a bag off the counter, you watch him leave the doorway and head into another room down the hall.

You’re not going to be able to find drugs. Price could use local anaesthesia and antibiotics, you don’t even know where to start with human medicine, never mind dog medicine. You recognise tools though, sealed sterile gloves and tweezers, scalpels and plenty of different bandages and gauze. 

You turn in the room walking round the table and over to the other side looking for wraps, something you can use to make a somewhat sterile field. You try to remember what you’ve seen from interning at the hospital for the last few years. You smile as you fill the bag, your parents were right, in the end the education was useful. 

Suddenly you hear a crash, grunting. Someone's in the building. There's an audible grunt, the sound punches, scraping of furniture. There’s no gunfire, you rush over to the hallway following the noise. You can see lights flashing in a room, you burst through the door.

It’s hand to hand contact, they’re fighting on the floor, the stranger is on top of Ghost. You’re not thinking, if Ghost dies they’ll kill you. No matter what you say they’ll kill you. Your hand feels for the knife in your belt.

The man on top of Ghost looks bigger, he's not wearing any body armor, Ghost's weapon flung to the side. You don’t have time to think you take the knife off your waist and jump at the guy on Ghost, plunging it into the man's neck. Blood spurts out covering you all. There’s no noise, you hit the carotid. 

His body goes limp after a few seconds and you stand up. Ghost pushes the body off him. You reach out offering him your hand. He hesitates for a second before accepting it and you pull him up. 

“Hurry up, we need to go.” He says reaching down to pull the knife out his neck. He wipes it on his leg before handing it back to you.

“Fuck me, not even a thank you.” You scoff putting the knife back on your hip. You leave the room going back into the surgery. You pack the last of the gauze and whatever sterile supplies you can find. An opened scalpel falls on the floor making you jump. 

It still has the cover over the blade. You’ll have to give the knife back to Ghost but the scalpel, it’s small, no one would know you have it. 

“Let’s go.” Ghost calls sticking his head in the room before leaving back towards the back door. You look at the scalpel on the floor. 

If you take it and they find it they could kill you. If you leave it you have no way to defend yourself either way. You sigh looking over at the door. 

How easy it would be to betray them.

..

It’s raining when you make it back to the safe house. They’ve piled the bodies up in the shed. They probably won’t get any kind of funeral until Farah’s troops get here, even then if she learns who they are they’ll most likely be dumped somewhere. Or buried in a mass grave, not like the commander in Chief of the ULF has time for Russian Al Qatala operatives. 

“What happened!?” Soap asks, rushing up to Ghost. The rain washed most of the blood off you both, but not all. 

“Nothing. Just a slight complication.” You shake your head going over to the sofa and putting the bags down. Price looks up at you, you smile at him. 

“Can I get cleaned up?” You ask the room. 

“Yeah.” Price says. You walk over to Ghost being fussed over by Soap. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns to look at you. You hold the knife out for him. 

“Here.” You say. He takes it out of your hand but doesn’t say anything. You huff pressing your lips together, you didn’t expect anything. You turn to head up to the bathroom. 

“Thanks.” He calls. It stops you in your tracks. You turn back and nod at him. The scalpel you hid in your waistband suddenly feels like a lead weight. 

Banners by plum98

[starlit-writer]

in sickness and in health, ch. 2 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader

here is chapter two!!!! in writing this chapter, i realized that this little fic has taken on a complete life of its own that i never anticipated, and will have many, many more chapters to come, so if you want to be added to a tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3

as always, if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!

word count: 4,270 chapter one chapter three masterlist ao3 link

You slept. And you slept. And you slept.

But, Simon held tight to his promise to you. He didn’t leave your side for any longer than necessary, and necessary held a very… loose definition to Simon as you laid on his bed, all but comatose. In the three days since you had shown up at his door, Simon had left the bed maybe five times to relieve himself, and a handful of other times just to growl somebody away from the door who had missed the memo that Simon and you would be out of commission for the foreseeable future. The rest of the time, he just laid next to you, curled up like a guard dog. Sometimes he talked to you, but most of the time, he was just watching your chest as it rose up and down, his fingers resting delicately over your wrist to ensure your heart was still beating. That you were still here.

It had been three days. And you still hadn’t woken up. The worry in Simon’s heart was becoming hard to keep down, and the neglect of his own body was starting to catch up with him. He hadn’t done any work, hadn’t showered, and had barely eaten the food that the team had left at the door. He was going insane with panic, with fear, at the thought that he lost you. That he had killed you.

He never knew what he had had until it was gone.

Simon was spiraling. He sat in the corner of the bed, making sure to keep his thigh pressed against you, but his head was in his hands as his fingers tugged relentlessly at his dirty blond strands. It was his fault. All of this was. He didn’t know how to be a good alpha, let alone any sort of partner that he knew you needed him to be. He was so completely lost in his own tortured mind that he didn’t even hear Soap as he slipped into the room.

It wasn’t until the tray full of food that Soap was carrying clattered to the ground that Simon even noticed he was in there. Simon’s head snapped up, his hackles rising as a vicious growl ripped through his throat. The sound was a clear warning to get the fuck away from him and his mate, but all Soap did was roll his eyes in complete exasperation and take a step closer to your sleeping form.

Simon’s growl intensified at the intrusion, his muscles rippling in preparation to fight. It didn’t matter that this was Johnny, one of the few people on this earth that Simon trusted wholeheartedly. His mate was dying, and Simon’s alpha was tearing itself apart, identifying anything and anyone that got too close to you as a threat. But, the other alpha ignored him. The only sign that Simon got that Soap even heard his posturing was the low, return growl that left Soap’s lips as they curled up to reveal his alpha fangs.

“Haud yer wheesht,” Soap grumbled in reply as his hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently over the joint. Soap’s focus was entirely on you, completely ignoring the massive bulk of Simon just on the other side of you. Soap and you had always been friends, and you had sought comfort in him over the last few months of Simon’s neglect. Guilt gnawed at him that he wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t help prevent the bond sickness from stealing you away, but that guilt was far overshadowed by the rage he felt towards Simon.

“How could ye ever do this to ‘er, huh?” Soap muttered, the words low and dangerous as he finally glanced up at Simon. “She was good. More tha’ good. She was a great fuckin’ medic, better teammate, and now look at ‘er.”

Simon’s alpha growled in response. He knew he had fucked up, destroyed you in ways he was only beginning to comprehend. He would take you yelling at him, telling him how shit he was, but hearing it from Soap, another alpha, was a whole new level of shame and guilt. Simon wasn’t built to hold this much emotion, never taught how to properly deal with his feelings, and he was at his breaking point. His rage was rising, like water that had been left on the stove too long without proper supervision, the bubbles breaking free over the steely confines of the walls he had built around his heart.

The very same confines that had kept him from you.

Simon’s eyes zeroed in on Soap’s hand on your shoulder, and he lost it. He scrambled off of the bed, his movements uncoordinated due to the lack of sleep and sustenance, but still full of the undeniable power that lived within the massive bulk of the alpha. He slapped Soap’s hand away, and grabbed at the straps of his tactical vest. Simon picked the smaller alpha up and spun to press him against the wall, Soap’s head cracking off the drywall. But, it wasn’t enough. Simon hated himself. Hated Soap. Hated everything that he could even remotely tie in as a factor to your comatose state on his bed. Simon gnashed his teeth in Soap’s face, pure, unbridled alpha rage pouring off of him.

Soap just smirked, completely unfazed.

“Oh, I see. Now you can be all protective over ‘er when she’s dying, aye? When it’s yer fuckin’ fault that she wasted away like this? You should’ve been better!” Soap was close to yelling now, his own hands coming up to Simon’s throat. Soap wasn’t going to kill him, no, the only thing that that would accomplish right now is causing more harm to you. But, dammit, if he wasn’t close.

Soap squeezed at Simon’s throat, his alpha claws digging into the mating bite on the side of the larger alpha’s throat. “I should rip that fuckin’ bite right off of ye, ye know that right?”

Simon roared, jerking his neck around to get Soap’s claws as far away as possible from the scent gland that held the imprint of your smaller omega fangs - the last thing truly tying him to you. He was far too gone with his rage, his alpha bursting against the confines of his skin, to even begin to formulate a response. All he could see was the red-hot haze of his rage, of his grief, the anguish that had settled so permanently into his bones over the last three days.

Soap grinned, a mean, sadistic thing that did little more than show off his alpha fangs. It was a challenge, an expression eerily similar to what a predator does when defending their territory. But you were not Soap’s territory. He knew that. He wasn’t trying to vye for your affection or to stake claim on you. His goal was single-minded: get Simon pissed enough to finally admit that he needs you, that he’ll fight for you, for your health, and that he’ll never abandon you this way again.

And if he wouldn’t? Well, Soap wasn’t looking for an omega of his own. Mainly just saw you as a constant in his life, in his pack, but he would single-handedly rip out that mating bite that glared, swollen and red from the strain of the bond, on the edge of Simon’s throat with his own claws and claim you as his own, if it meant fixing you, giving you some sort of stability.

“Ye did this to ‘er! Yer neglect, yer fuckin’ issues, made ‘er this way! All because your head was so far up your goddamned arse you couldn’t see it! She deserves better! She deserves an alpha who will take care of ‘er, not someone who will abandon her for months on end in hopes of getting blown to pieces!”

“I know!” Simon roared in response as he lifted Soap away from the wall again and slammed him back into it. “I know!” His grip on Soap started to falter as tears welled up in his eyes. He let go of Soap with one hand, the smaller alpha falling back to his feet on the ground as Simon scraped his hand across his face to prevent the tears from falling.

“I… I just… I don’t know how to do this, Johnny. It’s not like I grew up with a…” Simon trailed off, his voice thick with tears and regret as he completely let go of Soap to run his hands through his hair in anguish. “My father was an awful man. A horrendous example of an alpha. He… the things he did, Johnny, to me, to Tommy, to my poor fuckin’ mum… the only promise I made to myself when I left that place and let it burn to the ground was to never be like him. And that meant keeping myself as far away from any omega as I possibly could. I never wanted this! And then the brass gave that ultimatum, and shoved us together, and… and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be the reason that she got kicked out of the place that she worked tooth and nail to get to! I didn’t know how to be an alpha! I didn’t know how to protect her, and I had no one to ask! I just… I… I just didn’t know…”

Soap stood against the wall, mouth agape as he looked down at the massive, trembling form of the man he considered his best friend. Somewhere in his monologue, Simon had completely collapsed onto his knees, his head back in his hands, but Soap was too busy listening to the raw, honest truth falling from Simon’s tear-stained lips to even begin to try and guess when it had happened. Soap was in shock. But, he was at even more of a loss at how to comfort the other alpha.

Soap crouched down beside Simon, his hand awkwardly, yet gently, patting his shoulder as Simon’s hulking form shook from the force of his silent tears, his agony. Soap sighed as he rubbed his other hand over the back of his own neck. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

���Ghost, I… I think you need to go talk to Price. Maybe get in with the base therapist.”

Simon stiffened under Soap’s touch as those words left his mouth. He didn’t want to go talk to Price, even if he was his captain and a part of his pack. He didn’t want to have to admit to his failures to the same person who gave him orders, signed off on his paychecks. And a therapist? Yeah, he talked to a therapist, he’d just about be signing off on his own discharge forms.

Soap felt it. How his words affected Simon. He sighed again, a low rumble reverberating from his chest in an attempt to provide some comfort to the larger alpha. It was normally a move reserved for comforting a pup, or a distressed omega, but Soap was truly at a loss of what to do here. He had never seen Simon break down like this.

“Ghost, Price can help. He’s been with his bonnie lass for years, and they’re happy with pups runnin’ ‘round. Just… you can’t keep doin’ this to ‘er. And if that means you need direction, need to see how to be an alpha… at least talk to Price. She deserves an alpha who can be there for her, at the very least.”

Simon nodded slowly, wiping his hand across his face again. He felt weak, like a failure, but he knew he had to try.

You never knew what you had until it was gone.

Yeah, well, he knew now. And he wasn’t ever going to let it go again.

Simon lifted his head, his watery brown eyes meeting Soap’s determined baby blues. There was still anger in Soap’s eyes, but he was shoving it away. No point in kicking his friend while he was already down.

“I… I can’t just leave her here.”

“I’ll stay with her,” came Soap’s immediate response. You had sought solace in him over the last few months, and as another alpha from your pack, you would probably be the most comfortable with him around, even if your alpha was gone.

Hearing Soap’s immediate reply made something in Ghost’s alpha twist with distress, aching at the idea of another alpha taking care of his omega, even if it was another member of his pack. A low growl born of his alpha’s displeasure of the situation rumbled out of his throat for a moment before he quickly cut it off by clearing it. Simon knew this needed to be done, and sooner rather than later. He had to fix his ways, to see what it meant to truly be the type of alpha that you needed, that you deserved. But, before he agreed, he had to know one thing.

“Do you love her?”

Soap froze, his head rearing back slightly in shock. Did he love you? “What?”

“You heard me. Do you love her?”

“Simon, she’s a part of our pack. She always has been, even before you and her mated. So, yes, I love her, but not… not like that.”

Simon nodded slowly, his joints aching as he stood up to his full height again. Everything hurt. His muscles were sore from lack of movement, sleep, and nutrition, and his heart and soul felt as if they had been ripped to shreds. Your end of the bond felt like it had been shrouded in impenetrable inky blackness, which just made him feel even more empty. Gods, it used to annoy him to no end to feel your neverending presence in his mind, but now he would give anything, his own life, just to feel it again.

Soap breathed out a silent sigh of relief as he saw the acceptance in Simon’s nod. His best friend was going to be okay, both of you would be. He had to believe it. And, in classic Soap fashion, he couldn’t help but try to chip away the sour, somber mood in the room by cracking a joke.

“But, ye fuck it up again, and I really will rip that mating bite right out of ye, ye can bet on tha’.”

Simon glared at him, but it was the first bit of normalcy he had felt in… months. He shoved at Soap’s shoulder, but all it did was make the smaller alpha’s cocky smirk widen.

“Fuck off, Johnny,” Simon mumbled half-heartedly as he pulled off the tank top he had slipped on after you had fallen asleep, and he tucked it gently next to your head to ensure you still had his scent while he was gone. He ran a gentle, almost reverent finger down your cheek, smoothing an errant piece of your hair back behind your ear. He sighed softly, his guilt threatening to break free again, but he quickly stepped back from you and tugged on a sweatshirt. He glanced at Soap, his gaze glinting with a possessive protectiveness.

Soap, knowing exactly what was running through his mind, put his hands up in a placating manner.

“I won’ touch ‘er. Just don’ be gone too long, aye?”

Simon grumbled something under his breath but nodded, grabbing his keys and shoving them in his pocket before he opened the door. He paused in the open doorway with one last, longing glance back at you filled with all of the pain and regret and guilt swirling through his veins before he finally stepped through and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

—

He didn’t want to be here. To be doing this but he would, if it meant fixing you. He stood in front of Price’s office door, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to muster up enough courage to knock. The light was on, so Simon knew Price was in there. Hopefully he was just doing paperwork, and not anything… else.

Simon sighed loudly, scraping a hand down his face before he shook out his arms. He just needed to open the door. And, you know, pour his heart and soul out to the Captain, but that would come after. However, he didn’t get the chance.

“You gonna stand out there all day or are you comin’ in?”

Shit. Simon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. He could do this. For you, he could. He had to. He shouldered open the door, but he kept his gaze on the ratty red carpet of Captain Price’s office. Mmm, low-pile. Probably feel really scratchy on his face when Price inevitably-

“Ah, Simon. I’ve been expecting you.”

Fuck. Simon felt untethered, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t get a read on Price’s expression as the older, greying alpha moved his glasses off of the bridge of his nose and carefully folded the arms in to set them on the giant wooden desk in front of him. Simon made a point to keep his gaze away from the gouged out claw marks on the surface of the desk. Simon swallowed thickly and looked back down at the carpet in front of him. He had never had to ask for help before, at least, not like this. Not anything that meant showing his weakness, his losing hand, the fact that he’s a shit ass alpha.

“Uh, yeah. I… um, sir, I need… help.” Gods, kill him now.

“Yeah,” Price breathed out harshly as he stretched his arms back around his head. “Yeah, I’d say you do.”

Simon winced at Price’s words. He sounded like a disappointed father, or, at least, what Simon imagined a disappointed father would sound like, and he felt like he had been brought into the principal’s office after painting graffiti on the side of the building during recess. He finally brought his gaze up to the older Alpha, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“Captain, listen, I-”

Price cut him off with a raise of his hand as he stood up. Simon watched with wide eyes as Price grabbed a cigar out of the humidor that had always laid on his desk. Price grabbed his lighter, and placed the cigar between his lips before he turned away from Simon and looked out the window in the back of his office. A few moments later, and Simon heard the shink of the lighter catching, and he watched as a thick plume of dark grey smoke rose above Price’s form.

“You should’ve come to me for help sooner.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Price questioned, looking back at Simon over his shoulder.

“You’ve been running for years, Simon. Even before she came into the picture. And I let you. I shouldn’t have, but I kept hoping you would figure it out. And then, well, you didn’t. And then I watched you continue to close yourself off, to keep your distance. I watched as you brushed her off over, and over, and over again. And, I admit, as the pack leader, I should have stepped in. Should have forced you to stay on base and figure your shit out, but, tactically, it would’ve been a mistake to keep you here. So, we’re here now. What’s happened has happened. How are you going to fix it?”

Simon stood there, slack jawed and wide eyed as Captain John Price just essentially ripped down every single one of his defenses, his excuses, in one fell swoop. He wrung his hands in front of him, feeling exactly like he had been flayed open, all of his weaknesses and failures laid out in the open like intestines.

“I… I don’t know. That’s why I came here. I was looking for… pointers, I guess. Of how to be a better alpha- fuck, how to just be a good alpha. How to treat an omega. I wasn’t ever… I didn’t have good role models for that shit, and I just- well, Johnny said-”

“Will you actually listen?”

“What?”

Price took a deep inhale of the thick, grey smoke and held it as he turned to look at Simon face-on, studying Simon’s shaking form, the wild, lost look in his eyes, before he exhaled. Price kept his face schooled in a neutral expression, but he really did feel for Simon. He had once been a lost alpha like him, confused on how to even begin to take on the responsibility of an omega, how to take care of them. “If we have this conversation, will you actually take what I say into consideration? Or are you going to attempt for a few days, get frustrated, and then give up?”

Simon winced as Price continued to lay into him with that same cold, calculating gaze he used when discussing potential battle plans. Simon sighed softly, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a moment before he rolled his shoulders and looked at Price. “I have to fix this.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Price grinned around his cigar and sat back down at the desk, his fingers tracing idly over the claw marks in the surface of the wood. He gestured his arm out, inviting Simon to sit across from him. Simon squeezed into the chair, his large bulk making the chair creak in protest. He leaned back, trying to feign a confident, or at the very least, unaffected air, but all of his thoughts just kept coming back to you, his knee bouncing in a very distracting fashion as he fought every urge to just run back to his quarters, just to check on you.

Price smirked and steepled his hands in front of him, resting his chin on his thumbs. “You’re scared, ain’t ya?”

Simon nodded, biting down on his plush lower lip.

“Good. Means ya care. You’re just shit at showing it.”

Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but what could he do? He couldn’t protest the truth. He was already flayed open, might as well attempt to dissect and treat the diseased portions where he has been keeping all of his shit coping mechanisms.

“Did you ever court her?” Price asked, watching Simon skeptically. He could guess at the answer, as the relationship between you and Simon was far from traditional.

“No, I… Price, the brass gave us an ultimatum, you know that. I didn’t have time!”

“Not before, you didn’t, but what about after? You still could have courted her. Maybe then you would’ve trusted each other more, and we wouldn’t all be in this situation. Do you even know her favorite food? Flower? Song to dance to at 3 am in the kitchen? Color?”

With each question, Simon sank further and further into himself. He felt like the worst alpha on the planet. And, honestly, he probably was, or else you wouldn’t be still laying in his bed practically comatose.

Captain Price sighed and rubbed his thumb over the deep-set lines in his forehead. “Alright, well, those are good places to start, I guess, but… being an alpha isn’t all about gift giving and protecting. You have to listen to her. And I don’t just mean the words out of her mouth - although those are still very important - I also mean her pheromones. Her body language. Her microexpressions. All of the things she doesn’t say.”

“What!? How am I-”

Price put his hand up again to stop the tirade that he knew was about to come pouring out of Simon. “You pay attention. That’s it. It ain’t rocket science, Simon. You’ve led how many teams through how many missions? I’m sure you can figure out if one omega prefers dark or milk chocolate.”

Simon sighed loudly, the sound trailing off into a growl. He felt so stupid. He had been too focused on himself, on his own trauma and his own issues that he had completely neglected the bare minimum for you. He had so much to make up for. He slammed his forehead down into the desk in frustration, the force making the pens on the desk jump. “I should’ve just allowed the brass to kick me out. At least then she could’ve been forced to mate someone who could actually provide for her.”

Price shrugged, leaning back in his own chair as he puffed on his cigar. “No point in thinkin’ like that. You guys are mates, and that bond stayed together for a lot longer than I ever thought it would. That means somethin’, you know. So, you’ve really only got one option. You’ve gotta fix it. Listen to her. Pay attention. Make her feel cared for.”

Simon nodded, his forehead still pressed against the cold wood of the desk, but something Price said kept sticking in his brain, ruminating like a dog trying to lick peanut butter off of the roof of its mouth.

“That means something?” Simon asked, looking up at Price, skeptically looking for clarification.

Price just grinned and pretended to zip his mouth shut before waving Simon off. “Go back to your girl. If you still haven’t figured it out in a few weeks, come talk to me. But remember, court her. Especially after all of this. Show her you care. That you can be a good alpha.”

Simon furrowed his brow, not thrilled about not getting an answer about what Price meant, but got up from his seat. He had been dismissed, and all he wanted to do was get back to you.

Courting. Courting. Right. He could do that. Right?

tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy

[echo-riot]

Sevika/Abby/Ellie: Love letters

Warnings: fluff

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝕊𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕜𝕒

Hey Brat,

I don’t know what you want me to say in this. You should know by now that I’m not one for long speeches or anything sappy. But since you’re still here, I guess I’ll give you something to chew on.

You’re mine. That’s the only thing you need to remember. No one else matters. No one else will even get close to you while I’m around. I don’t care if you think it’s possessive or crazy, but you’re not going anywhere. And don’t even try to argue with me about it. You wouldn’t win.

It’s cute how you think you need to take care of me sometimes. You’re not the only one who knows how to survive, but I’ll admit—your little touches, your care, it’s not the worst thing in the world. But don’t go thinking I need you. You’re not my damn therapist, and I’m not your project. But I’ll let you fuss over me anyway, since you seem to enjoy it. I’d kill anyone who made you feel less than adored, so don’t get any bright ideas about being too independent.

You’ve got a good thing going, so don’t fuck it up. I might not say it outright, but I’d burn this whole damn city down before I let anything happen to you. So yeah, maybe I’m a little soft on you. But don’t get any funny ideas. You’re not gonna change me, and you’ll never hear me say anything cheesy, like those damn love words. That’s not me.

But in the quiet moments, when you’re all tangled up with me, I’m not thinking about anyone else. Just you. Keep that in mind next time you get all worried.

So, there. That’s your “love letter,” for whatever the hell that means to you. Take it or leave it.

-Sevika

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔸𝕓𝕓𝕪

Hey,

I’m not great with words. Never have been. So, you’ll have to bear with me.

I’m not some romantic, and I don’t do the whole love-letter thing. But I guess I owe you this, if only because you’re the one thing in this messed-up world that’s made sense. You’re the constant, the one person who’s been there even when I didn’t deserve it. I don’t know if you get that, or if you’ll ever really understand how much that means to me.

I’m not good at talking about feelings—hell, I’m not even sure what they are half the time. But I know this: I trust you. I trust you in a way I haven’t trusted anyone in a long time. And yeah, maybe that’s not saying much, but I’m not exactly the type to let people close. You’ve earned your place, and I’m not just letting anyone in. So, don’t take that lightly.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I’ve made my share of mistakes. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make things right, but I’m trying. I’m fighting for something, for us, and I don’t know where that’ll take me, but I know I’ll keep pushing forward as long as you’re by my side. You’re the reason I keep going when it’s easier to quit. You make it worth it.

I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect you to be either. We’re both broken in our own ways, and that’s okay. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, I’ll fight for you. You mean more to me than I can say.

So, yeah. Maybe not the flowery words you expected. But that’s the truth, and it’s the best I can do.

<3 Abby

•|||——————————————————————|||•

𝔼𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕖

Hey you,

I don’t even know where to start, but I guess that’s pretty typical for me. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what to say, how to say it, and if I even have the guts to send something like this. But here it is, I guess.

I’m not great with words—never really was. I tend to get stuck in my head, and even when I have something I want to say, it comes out… wrong. But I hope you understand that I mean every word, even if it’s clumsy or awkward.

There’s something about you that makes everything feel… right. Even on the days when I’m a mess, when I forget to text back or I zone out for a bit because my head’s too loud—whenever I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe. And I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.

You make me want to be better, even if I don’t always show it in the best ways. I know I can be a little weird and I overthink things like a lot, but the truth is, I’m just trying to make sure I don’t mess things up with you. You mean more to me than I’m probably letting on, and sometimes that freaks me out.

I catch myself looking at you sometimes, like I can’t help it, and I know I probably look like an idiot when I get all flustered, but it’s because you’re… I don’t know. You’re just everything to me. It’s hard to explain, but I think you already know.

When I’m with you, I don’t feel like such a loser anymore. I don’t have to be perfect or say the right things or try to impress anyone. You make me feel like I don’t have to be anything other than just… me. And that’s probably the best gift anyone could give me.

So, yeah. I guess I just wanted to tell you that. You mean the world to me, more than you know. And I’m sorry for all the weirdness, the moments when I get quiet or lost in my thoughts. It’s just… I think about you a lot.

I’ll stop before I get all awkward and ruin this, but I hope you understand.

I love you. And I’m so damn lucky to have you.

Love,

Ellie

•|||——————————————————————|||•

[weneeya]

don't like you m.list | rules

pairing. dr ratio x reader

note. i'm finally falling in honkai star rail so be prepared to see characters from there quite a lot from now on (and i'm not even sorry about it)

Working with no one else than Dr Veritas Ratio was really a pain in the ass. It might have been a lot of people’s dream to be able to work with someone as intelligent as him, but it was surely not yours. In fact, you would have preferred doing this with absolutely anyone else other than him. The explanation was easy : you could not stand that man. He was arrogant and always called other people stupid. He had no respect for them, so you did not have any for him or his work. 

You had no choice though, working with him was not your own decision and you could not discuss it no matter how much you wanted to. This is how you ended up sitting in a library with Veritas in front of you, speaking over and over, again and again, without ever closing his mouth. A sigh left your lips, and you met his eyes. 

“Do you shut your damn mouth sometimes?” You asked him bluntly, and he looked at you in disbelief for a second ; before his expression was quickly replaced with a frown. “And do you have some respect for people sometimes?” You suddenly straighten your back at his words. 

You thought about a million things to answer his stupid remark, but you decided to be more mature than him this time and not to reply to him. You shook your hand slowly, monitoring him to keep going in his never ending monologue. After some time, you began to listen again to what he was talking about. 

No matter how hard you despised him, you could never deny the genius he was. His brain was working a thousand times faster than anyone else, and you could only agree to what he was saying. Except right now, because you had something else to propose as an idea. 

You raised your finger, and it made him stop speaking for a moment. Aeons, it really was great when he stopped. You cleared your throat, looking at him with a light grin on your lips. Oh, he did not like that. 

“That’s a good point, I admit it ; but I don’t like you. So fuck you, and here’s my idea.” And with that, you stole the pencil in his fingers and began to explain your own point of view and your ideas on the subject, not giving him the opportunity to stop you. It was your turn now. 

He could not believe it. Not only the fact that you were a brat clearly making fun of him right now, but also that your ideas were… great. It was hard for him to admit it, but you really had some good points that he did not mention even once. Maybe you did not like him, and maybe he did not care much (or that was what he said) but you were not as much of an idiot as he thought you were. 

When you were done, you expected him to dismiss everything you said and called you the stupidest person on this planet. But he did not. Actually, he almost did the opposite. Well, you would never say out loud that you were pretty smart, but he did not throw your ideas away. 

At your biggest surprise, you both began to work together on the subject to find a good idea and solution that would use both of your brains and not only his. It was a first. You almost thought he was making fun of you in the beginning ; but you had to admit that he clearly was taking you seriously. 

It was refreshing, and as the days got on while working on this, you realized that perhaps he was not as much of an asshole you thought he was. He was just a genius surrounded by slower brains and he had some trouble accepting it. But he was almost treating you as an equal now that you had tell him to fuck off and put some respect on your name. 

Perhaps you should have done this sooner.

thank you for reading!

[spoilerssweetie13]

Hi, I've been meaning to reply to this. I just haven’t found the time to sit down and write a whole essay, hehehe. I'll start off by saying I definitely get where you're coming from, but here's just my two cents on everything:

The Doctor has, at one point, been President of Gallifrey, and given how Time Lords are, I don't they would allow someone "less clever" than them to lead them. The Timeless Child isn't supposed to make the Doctor special. If anything, it makes them a victim of abuse dissected like lab rat by their own adoptive mother over who knows how lifetimes. The Timeless Child does not negate their choices. Instead, I feel adds to them. They are alien even to this universe but chose to save it time and time again. In a sense, if they hadn't been kidnapped the DW universe would have died a billion times over, isn't that beautifully fucked up in its own way?

Davros once asked Twelfth why he ran from Gallifrey, and under this new context of the Timeless Child, you realize, "Oh shit that's what he was running from." That's what they are all always running from. I also saw another post on here that said that the Time Lords "granted" Eleventh more regenerations to cover their own tracks, and that makes so much sense. The Time Lords don't do anything unless it benefits them. When you see the whole show under the lens of Timeless Child, all the pieces start to fall into place. It's definitely a different viewing experience. It becomes so much darker, and I think that's part of the appeal of the Timeless Child for me.

The Doctor did always feel like the adopted child of the family; Timeless Child just confirms it. But they will always be the Doctor, because the Doctor is the name that they chose for themselves, their empathy and and love for humanity has nothing to do with where they come from, and that was true even when we thought they were from Gallifrey. It's all about their choices, and they will always choose to be the Doctor sorting out fair play throughout the universe, no matter their origins.

Ever since I watched the Fugitive Doctor episode, every time someone new would pop up on screen, I would go is he the Doctor, is she the Doctor, [ominously whispers] are we all the Doctor? (Joking, but seriously, the paranoia did set in!) To me, Timeless Child isn't taking the Everyman-ness or Everywoman-ness away but adds to it by saying literally anyone and everyone can be the Doctor. You don't have to be born on Gallifrey to be the Doctor; hell, you don't even have to be from the DW universe, so we could all very well be the Doctor, lol.

Extended lore says Time Lords used Looms to procreate so I don't know why the Doctor wouldn't know who the Susan's parents are, unless it hasn't happened yet because of timey-wimey stuff [shrugs] probably will never happen now because of the retcon. :( Marrying a werewolf is crazy but it's the Doctor, so I'm not even surprised.

It's funny that I don't like the Bi-genration for the same reason that you do like it. That it's a one-off and will never happen again. To me, it feels too convenient compared to the Timeless Child. Love it, hate it, want to purge it from your memory, the Timeless Child will always be a part of the show's history, it's essentially a infinite money glitch, a way for the show to go on forever. See, what really gets me is that Fourteenth will just drop dead at one point, and Fifteenth will just get all his memories and be like, "I'm healed now." That feels too convenient. To me, that's messing with the established rules just as much as Timeless Child. If we're talking about closure Fourteenth and Donna should've gone back to The Library and Fourteenth should've used his "resemblance" to Tenth to his advantage to confuse the Vashta Nerada and somehow save River without time collapsing in on itself (but that's just the Doctor/River shipper in me speaking). To me, Donna just getting her memories was closure enough.

RTD said he didn't want to make a mockery of drag by putting David Tennant in Jodie's Whittaker outfit. Mind you, her outfit was specially designed so anyone can wear it. What's so feminine about trousers, a shirt and a coat? It seems to me that it was just done in bad faith.

Bigeneration is just as lore-changing as the Timeless Child. And yet no one shits on it because their precious RTD wrote it. If Chibnall did something like this, y'all would have your pitchforks at the ready. The double standards in this fandom, I swear. RTD is allowed to retcon Doctor Who, but heavens forbid Chibnall even try.

The Doctor is no longer even a parent because of him. David Tennant is a good actor, but I'm tired of people pretending like he's the face of Doctor Who. The whole point of the show is that the Doctor has different faces, and we should love them all—not regress backwards.

We deserved to see the Fourteenth Doctor in Thirteenth's clothes, and not for everything she is to burn up and die. The Fifteenth Doctor deserved his own regeneration scene like every other Doctor, without Fourteenth randomly sticking around because of RTD's inability to let go of the characters he wrote.

At least the Timeless Child added something more to the Doctor's story. Bigeneration took something away: the emotional impact of the Doctor's regeneration - having to say goodbye.

[k0nanharv3y]

OKAY I CANNOT LET THIS DIE

Part 1 of this bullshit

"Hero? Villain? or misunderstood mind?", "Has he done more good for Gotham than its own inhabitants? What Wayne has to say about it", "The reality of the situation; Statistics of the recent attacks on Wayne Enterprise and Gotham City"

Tim didn't read the newspaper, it was boring, he didn't like it and he didn't have time to read the latest gossip from Gotham when he was most likely there. And he didn't need a piece of paper for that, that was contamination, he could get all the information he needed with just one search. So, yeah, Tim didn't read the newspaper

But then Riddle was imprisoned without even knowing it thanks to the newspaper and so Tim set himself the task of checking every single newspaper that ever mentioned him. And damn... Reddit was a thing when it came to twisting things, but this? This is blatant show-telling

Some called him a villain who didn't know how to do his job (in the first cases, really understandable, Tim barely knew what he was doing), but he had never set out to harm Gotham and apparently some people got angry...? Because... because he didn't kill anyone? (Joker doesn't count, he wasn't anybody) ...???. Others dared to lump him in with the Bats (And God bless the spilled coffee he spat out while choking reading that) saying how come; Apparently Tim was seen as a good guy and the explosions and cyber attacks on Wayne Enterprises had not been him but another rogue who was defeated by Tim???. But the others called it "The Evolution of Batman" and refuted his statistics. Batman's way was to go out and beat them until they calmed down, Tim's way was to cut them off at the root (Joker exploding in a building was nothing more than poetry. But the trafficking networks were eradicated by giving legal and stable jobs to those who distributed it, Tim didn't take their lives, not the literal ones at least, Tim changed them)

He finished high school early and dedicated himself to helping Gotham. It wasn't even illegal (stealing from the rich isn't illegal, their mere existence is illegal and unjust) Tim wasn't a villain, the citizens of Gotham seemed to love him just like they loved Batman; and if some building had to be blown up, at least nobody lived there and it was only to piss off the Bats

Batman's attempts to stop him seemed to cease... But Tim was greedy once... just once, and that led him to mess with forces he couldn't control. And then there was a price on his head, and Shiva and Deathstroke were after him. Because Ra's doesn't find it funny that a 14-year-old kid hacks into his systems and steals money to give to the poor. Shiva ended up being kind of... weird? She didn't kill him, but she threatened him that she would sooner or later, when Tim is a real threat to her (Tim learned to fight, thanks Shiva, but fuck it, it hurt) and Slade let him live because...??? I mean, he slit his throat and gave him enough trauma to last a lifetime, but he let him live... Tim doesn't think he's that lucky, this was already playing god

And then Ra's killed his mother

///

The irony is that Tim didn't WANT his mother, of course, she was his mother and he loved her deeply, but... it was like, a love out of responsibility, Tim was a child who was presented with, look, these are your parents and you must love them and respect them because they are your parents. That Janet's death hurt him so much... it was more a matter of pride, Tim didn't want revenge because Ra's killed his mother, he wanted revenge because Ra's killed his mother

And now he wasn't going to stop Gotham from burning. He was going to create the fire for Ra's to burn with whatever it took

If Batman stopped him, he didn't care, Tim had nothing to lose. His mother was dead and Ra's would pay for it

///

This is... actually before Batman's death, but after Damian became Robin, I'm working on this as I write, I don't have anything planned so...

Someone: Oh! Plot Hole!

I throw a brick at them and make sure they don't move anymore

Me: You didn't see anything.

Part 3 because i forgot to mention it

[priceoftheduchess]

oh, father! where art thou?

part three.

highschool au, long lost lovers, enemies to lovers if you squint, grumpy and sunshine-esque dynamics, simon riley & fem!reader.

cw) angst, use of 2nd person, allusions/vague depictions to intimacy eventually, drinking eventually, breakdowns, motherhood, simon riley is father, un-canon lore, not proofread!

@girl-lostconnection @alkalineapparition and to anyone else enjoying this series, i love you.

previous part

Simon’s home — the home he used to share with his family — is now barebones. Tommy’s toys were sold off to the single mother across the street, and Simon scrubbed that bourbon stain from the couch as hard as he could managed. He wiped his mother’s lipstick off the wine glasses in the sink and shattered them in the backyard. Memories are heavier than grief, he thinks.

Simon is horrified with himself. Inviting you into his home? Where there has only ever been pain and suffering? Where he has only been hit and never kissed? Where he has yearned to die and kill before he has even lived and loved? What was he thinking? He’s sure you can feel it, even just parking in the drive. Your car shuts off and he watches you walk from your car. Why are you gorgeous?

You knock softly on the door — standing under the porch light, which he mistakes for a halo — holding a floral, porcelain Tupperware. It’s intricate and beautiful, just as you are. And Jesus Christ, Simon thinks you’re a vision. You’re wearing a soft pink blouse and some shorts that hit mid-thigh. Your hair is wavy and a bit untamed but his mouth has dried up regardless. He answers the door like a damn fool.

“House,” he says affirmatively.

“Yes.” You agree tentatively; you’re not sure why he’s referencing this. He gives you a terse nod and steps aside, beckoning you in. You walk in, and this house is quiet. Grief has settled in the bones of this home, here. There is a silent wail with every step you take and there are too many drafty corners for any of it to be normal. There are ghosts here. It is the heaviest thing you’ve ever felt, and you wonder how Simon lives here. Why he lives here alone.

But Simon is here, so somehow it is all okay. He generously takes the porcelain, filled with some sticky toffee pudding that your grandmother made “for your new sweet boyfriend.”

So close, Grandma. Maybe not too wrong.

He carefully unlatched the plastic top from the frilly dish and sets it aside. “T’smells good. But you ‘idn’t ‘ave to bring any’ing.” He’s almost scolding you. Does your kindness ever fucking end?

“My gram made it. Somebody else had to experience her sticky pudding,” you smile softly, and he feels his heart melting down the insides of his lungs.

“Too kind, luv,” he says softly and leads you into the dining room. The table is set. Simple green plates along with some old cutlery. A singular, nearly empty, candle burning in the centre of the table. And the food.

Two plates. Both loaded with a nice, fat cut of steak and some assorted sides.

“Don’t know wot you ‘ike, luv. Just put out some mashed and some greens alongside. Sound good?” You nod and he is relieved beyond belief. His shoulders lighten and he sits at the table. It’s a lonely table. Two chairs. Not sign of a family anywhere. No sign that anyone else has ever lived here. Matter-of-fact, if Simon wasn’t sitting in front of you, you’d be easily convinced no one ever inhabited this home at all. Is home even the right word?

You sit across from him, and you both begin to eat in a comfortable silence. The soft clinking of silverware to plate is enough for you both, it seems.

After dinner, you’re helping him rinse the dishes because why wouldn’t you? He sets a dish in your side of the sink, and your hand brushes his. It’s so electric you’re shocked you didn’t die, with your hands in the water and all. He seems to notice it the same time you do, because he glances at you before his wet hands are out of the water and on your arms, his touch like a brand.

And with his hands on your arms, teeth are clashing against teeth and his nose is bumping yours. Lips are mauled at, and his hands have traveled down to your waist, leaving wet handprints on your blouse. He breaks from the kiss, eyes blown and face flushed. He has never looked so sweet.

Now, instead of harsh edges and crooked lines, he is just like everyone else. Just affected by intimacy as you are. He searches your face frantically, his eyes darting around. He wants to say sorry. To tell you that you can go and take your grandma’s pudding back with you.

But he doesn’t get the chance, before your lips are back on his. Desperate, needy and starved. Your hands leave imprints in the collar of the shirt he was wearing, and his hands are scorching when he gently feels up your spine, taking the utmost care in such.

Two Months Later.

Simon has long grown sick of the new school year. Year 12 is perhaps the most dull year he’s ever had. Academically, at least. You’re there. And you’re his girlfriend. His girlfriend. His girlfriend!

Simon thinks everyday he’s died and gone to Heaven, by some miracle. You still haven’t questioned the emptiness of his home, or the holes in the walls where you’re sure old photos were hung — and for that he is grateful.

You meet him in the parking lot, keys in hand and goofy grin as you see your boyfriend leaning against your car. He’s gained more weight, thank God. Some muscle, probably just from physical labor at work, thank God. He’s as tall as he always was and he’s so extremely yours.

“Hi,” you smile up at him.

“Mm,” he hums softly, nodding at you. You’re the single most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And you’re his! Why can he not get over that fact?

“Mm?” You repeat back, laughing softly.

“Mm.”

“Mm.”

You pull into his drive, parking in front of the house you’ve grown to love. You’re here most days, as your parents are really only in your life through your bank statements. And even then, barely that.

There are pieces of you everywhere. Sticky lipgloss on the rims of all his glasses that he refuses to wash. Plushies of that fucking white cat in his bed, and pops of pink in his underwear drawer. It’s all things to show him you’re tangible. And you don’t plan on leaving. You don’t plan on dying. And for that, he is grateful.

“Goin’a take a shower, luv.” He nods once you both make it inside his room, and you nod, slipping into the bed you’ve made an imprint of yourself in. The bed that smells like you.

Needing to finish some work from class, you begrudgingly peel yourself from his bed, and search his desk for a pencil. He’s still got your pencil from Year 11, you know it. While doing so, you stumble onto some forms.

Her Majesty’s Armed Forces Soldier Application? Oh, hell no. You feel like crying. Screaming. Vomiting. Leaving. Burning these papers in an obscenely large dumpster fire. No. You know what this means. What happens from here.

When Simon comes back from the shower, you’re huddled in the corner, a familiar piece of paper in your hand. Why are you crying? Oh, hell no.

“Luv?”

“No.” You respond immediately. And he knows he is fucked.

“Please ‘et me explain.”

“No! Simon, no!” You stand up and wave the paper in his face, appropriately pissed. “You are not leavin’ me! You’re not puttin’ your-fuckin’-self on the front lines! No! Are you stupid? Must be! Thinkin’ I’d ever let you go off ‘n’ risk your life!”

Simon is still. Inordinately still. Barely breathing. You take this as an invite to continue.

“And why not tell me ‘bout this?! We do not keep things from each oth’a! You’re mad, Simon! You’ve gone mad!” He nods, his only defense right now is agreement. You take a deep, calming breath and throw the paper on the desk. You’re working through a million thoughts in your mind, and he has not even said a word.

“How serious are you ‘bout this?”

“Wot?”

“Simon, how serious are you ‘bout this? I mean, did’ja get this flyer from a random booth in the shops or … are you actually leaving me?” You sound so dejected, and he feels horrible. He tugs you against him, hoping to soften the blow.

“This is the only chance ‘ve got’a any kind’a career, luv.” He tells you honestly, and you’re sobbing. Because of course you are. You’re so attached and God, so is he.

“Fuck.” You lean away from him just enough to look into his eyes as he stares down at you and you’re shattered. Broken.

“I’m sorry, luv.” And the rest of your night is blur. A teary, heartbreaking blur.

You seem to zone out for months, maybe. Detaching yourself from the inevitable, perhaps. You’re zoned out until Simon is packing a large duffel bag of everything he’s ever owned, and some things you begged that he take with him. And you’re zoned out as you drive him to the bus stop.

And you’re only truly listening when under the bus terminal and sitting next to Simon, fingers intertwined and tears streaming down your face. Relentless.

He’s stopped trying to comfort you. Not because he’s stopped caring but because he knows better now. You’ll cry well until after he’s left and maybe even until he returns. He’s given you everything. The keys to his ratty car, the keys to his home. Everything.

He’s wearing your scarf again, and he’s got you glued to his side. He’s rethinking all of it. Until he’s not allowed that luxury anymore. The bus is here.

And why is Simon already crossing that threshold? The point of no return? He gave you a kiss, you know. But nothing else is registering.

Simon watches as you collapse onto the pavement as the bus begins to pull away. Your knees scraping and painting the sidewalk red. But that is the lesser pain of the two.

Your heart is in two pieces, and Simon took one of those with him when he left.

[superbtiti]

Word count: 1.4k

Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki

A/n: should I write a part 2? Anyway enjoy 🫶🏾

________________

"Can you guys just shut up for one second?" my voice snapped through their noise like a whip. I shot each one of them a sharp glare, my gaze like a knife to their throats.

"Fuck..." I kissed my teeth.

"Y'all giving me a headache..." a frustrated sigh left my mouth, my foot continuously tapping the ground.

They all fell silent after the sudden snap, even Bakugo, who rarely listens to people, kept his mouth quiet. The suffocating silence was broken by the soft, tinny elevator music.

I closed my eyes, breathing deeply in an attempt to steady myself. My patience was seemingly thin, exhausted from the intense training session we just completed that had drained every ounce of energy from my body. Being cramped in an elevator with the three boys, whose personalities clash like fire, water, and earth, is definitely not what I am in need of right now.

"Sorry..." Izuku murmured behind me, his voice barely audible.

I opened my eyes and turned my attention to them. Izuku stared at me sympathetically; his hand never stopped fidgeting. Todoroki shifted slightly, keeping his gaze lowered on the ground. "Apologies," his voice monotone, a surprising hint of sincerity.

Bakugo kept his hands in his pockets and avoided my gaze, probably mumbling some dumb shit under his breath.

'Ding.'

We arrive at our destined floor, the elevator doors open. "Whatever," I breathe out, exiting the cramped space.

I slowly walk through the hallway of Endeavor's agency, the echoed footsteps signaling me that the others were following me.

Furthermore, I pushed the door open to the conference room, where we are to meet up to discuss our training progress.

Greeted with a massive screen glowing ominously on the far wall. I took a seat near the center of the table, the others hesitantly sat next to me, Todoroki on my left, his calm presence refreshing after the tension in the elevator, Izuku on my right with his notebook out and ready to scribble, and Bakugo slouched into his seat across from me, the expression on his face saying 'fuck off' loud and clear to anyone who dared to say something.

The heavy tension is visible to other bystanders, like an unwelcome guest.

Endeavor enters the room a moment later. "Alright, children," he began, his tone sharp.

"We're going to go over today's training session. Pay close attention to your performance footage. I want you to identify at least three areas for improvement."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. After hours of laborious training, the last thing I wanted was to sit through footage of every mistake I'd already replayed in my head a hundred times. But Endeavor didn't care about what we wanted—only what we needed to improve.

The screen started displaying our recent exercise. Izuku glided through our training field, dodging attacks, while Bakugo blasted his way through, activating most of the traps and disabling us on his way. Todoroki blocked the explosion thanks to his ice abilities.

Then my own performance came up. I watched myself make mistakes and waste precious time, which only fueled my aggravation and frustration. The unwanted comments of Endeavor not assisting.

"You were too slow there," he let out. "And in lack of critical thinking, we cannot afford such disheveled actions. The time wasted would have been major and could cost a civilian their life in a real situation," he addressed.

The old man does nothing but comment on everything I do, no matter how hard I try, to the point I don't sleep at night to study for the next day. Will he ever be satisfied with what I have to give?

"What an asshat," I muttered, just loud enough for the others to hear. Endeavor's glare cut through me like fire, sharp and burning. I sighed, forcing myself to sit up straighter. "Apologies," I said, though the sarcasm in my voice didn't go unnoticed.

__________

The room dimmed as the screen continued displaying clips of our earlier session. His attention on his performance, Izuku's muttering returned in full force, jotting in his notebook, the sound of his pen scratching the surface of his book aggravatingly. Bakugo, on the other hand, leaned back into his seat, arms crossed while observing his own.

"Izuku," my voice cut sharp, "quit mumbling, it's distracting."

"My bad," he acknowledged, lowering his voice.

"Oi," Bakugo hissed from across the table. "If you’re gonna nag, how about you keep it down as well, huh?"

I shot him a glare. "How about you mind your business and take this seriously."

"Take this seriously?" His voice rose, catching the attention of others. "I don't need your lecture when you’ve been moody and unpredictable since morning, princess. And besides, I already know I’m better than you all."

I huffed. "Coulda fooled me. Your so-called 'superiority' caused you to trigger half of the damn traps in the field." I shot back, leaning forward as if it would get my point across more.

The corner of Todoroki's mouth twitched, and I could've sworn he was suppressing a smirk. "Careful, Bakugo," Todoroki chimed in, his voice calm but cutting. "Your temper's showing again."

"Shut it, Icy Hot!" Bakugo snapped, slamming his hands on the table. "You wanna say that again?!"

"Someone's getting heated," I commented provocatively.

"Can we not do this right now?" Izuku complained

"Enough!" Endeavor commanded, his sharp tone silencing the brewing argument. "If you can't keep quiet, you'll be running the course again—together. Am I clear?"

"Hell nah."

"Over my body."

"I'd rather not."

The three of us grumbled varying acknowledgments, izuku remained silent, sinking back into our seats as the instructor resumed the debriefing.

__________

After what felt like an eternity, the meeting finally ended. I stretched as I stood, the stiffness in my shoulders easing slightly. The boys stalled near the exit, clearly waiting for me.

"I'm heading back to the dorms," I informed them.

"Me too," Izuku added. "Need to review some notes."

"Ima go get some food. Careful not to choke on your nerd shit." Bakugo turned away, stepping toward the exit with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Seriously?" I let out an annoyed groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Can't you just shut the fuck up and not insult people everywhere you go?"

He stopped mid-step, turning to glare at me.

"You’ve got a bad mouth, princess. Do you think you’re better than me? And besides, keeps things interesting." he sneered, stepping closer.

My face scrunched up in distaste. "Not every damn thing is a competition." The words shot out of my mouth laced with venom. "How about you start working as a team? Maybe then you'll notice how much of a liability you are," I snapped back, meeting his gaze head-on.

"Good luck with that," Todoroki muttered.

Bakugo’s eyes widened, his hand sparking faintly with explosions.

"Liability?! Say that again, and I'll blow your shit up!"

"Blow me up. I fucking dare you," I countered, my tone daring and condescending.

"Stop this buffoonery, at once!"

Endeavor yelled, fumes steaming from his head. His aggravation and vexation were clear to every living being near his radius, flames emitting from his body. The room turned dead quiet, all eyes snapped to him.

"I can't believe how childish and insolent you are behaving! All of you are far from representing the heroes of our near future," his voice railed through the hallways, his fiery aura intensifying with each word. "I am far from pleased with your actions today, both individually and as a team on the field."

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shoving his hands back in his pockets. Todoroki quietly glared at his father, while Izuku shifted uncomfortably, his gaze falling to the ground.

I swallowed hard, my throat clenching as my mouth ran dry.

Endeavor let out a heavy sigh, the flames on his body dimming slightly. "If this behavior continues, none of you will be fit to graduate, let alone work in the professional hero field. Learn to control yourselves and act like the heroes you claim to want to be."

With that, he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving the four of us in an uncomfortable silence.

Bakugo was the first to break it, muttering, "Tch. Whatever." He stormed out, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

I clenched my fists, the tension in my chest building up as my eyes started to sting, tears threatening to fall.

"I got you," a soft voice said from beside me. I felt a hand on my back, providing me with an all-too-familiar sense of comfort. I turned slightly to meet Izuku's gaze.

"Let's go back to the dorms."

---

[pynkhues]

That anon is so fucking creepy and vile. It would be creepy and vile and disgusting no matter what, but to threaten to do that to two CHILDREN and someone facing domestic violence is just evil. Can you block specific anons on tumblr, or report them? Some people are just so pathetic.

Thank you to both of you, genuinely, it means a lot in a situation that now feels like - - y'know, Yeah. A Lot. I do think I was probably a bit naive with this fandom (although I do think it's the biggest one I've ever been in, honestly), but I think the mention of my sister's children is genuinely just so disgraceful and it actually is a criminal threat. So I hope that anon and the apparently boundaryless group of people they engage with realise that (although if they don't by now, hopefully they will at the end of this reply).

I was already getting dinner with my mum tonight before all of this happened, but I texted her on the way to tell her that I had Stuff to talk to her about, and y'know, I'm in my thirties, and me and my mum have always been close, amd she vaguely knows I'm 'in some fandoms', but to tell her about all of this bullshit tonight and have her opinions not just as a mother, and a grandmother to those two little boys, but also as a friend (which I'm very lucky to have her as at our big ages), and as a professional woman with a science, legal, political and journalistic background, was honestly the best possible thing to come back to earth to (so lowkey thanks for that anon, I guess?). She was outraged (and said things I could never type, haha) and funny and considerate (she already knew I wrote fanfic, but her response to me reminding her and showing her my ao3 was 'i love you, and i don't care' lmao) and, perhaps most importantly! Practical!

Which is all to say I've opened a case tonight, at her urging, with the Australian eSafety Commission, which they are taking quite seriously because of the threat of involving minors. But also generally!, So I guess well done on that, to the anon who's sent me those asks, your attempt to shame me for writing about consensual sex is actually now about you threatening a sex crime, because sending anyone porn over the internet without their consent, is, in fact, a sex crime, even before you threaten to involve literal children. I have to give them my tumblr login, but y'know what? That's okay to me, actually, given they can now track your IP Address!

(Sorry to the anons I'm replying to, this is now becoming a direct address of this [+ the friends of this] anon but - - )

I suspect you won't read this rationally, because I don't think you read much that I write rationally, but I do think you should know that you're assaulting people by sending them explicit material out of the blue, which I write, yes, and I'm going to own it if you do send it on, regardless of who you send it to. Again, yes, I'll probably be embarrassed if you share my fic and replies with people in my life, but I'm not going to be ashamed of any of it. I share it with consenting adults, you're saying you'll share it with adults who you dont give the chance to consent, and also literal children (not to harp on the point, but, anon, my nephews are 7 and 8 years old. They are currently navigating their mother's divorce from their abusive father - real people, real children, not made up ones like Louis and Lestat and Claudia - I'd ask you, genuinely, what you felt bringing them into this conversation was supposed to achieve beyond threatening me into silence? Which is - - I hate to say it, anon - - abusive behaviour).

I also do question what it is about writing sex that you find worthy of sending to family members at all? Do you think I should be ashamed of writing smut? Because that's the interpretation I get from your asks, and, again, that says more about you than it does about me. That tells me the reverse would threaten you, if I could send your behaviour or fandom engagement, or fic history to your family, you would feel threatened.

Because, okay, what's the alternative? You threaten to send my fic to my sister, okay, why do you feel that gives you leverage if you don't inherently find it shameful? I'm sharing work in a community of consenting adults, you'd actively choose to take that out of that (and before you argue this point, you are consenting, by clicking on the links of my fics). In fact, you'd choose to bring my family members into that. Why? Me and my sister talk about sex all the time, we're sisters, my fics aren't going to land on her doorstep as the surprise you think they will (but also, again, the implication of you thinking this should take priority over her literal divorce and custody case from her actually abusive husband, driving what? A wedge between us? While purporting to champion a fictional victim of it.....it's pretty transparent at this point, anon, and honestly I'd say ugly too).

Why do you think I should be threatened by her opinion of what I write? Do you think you know my relationship with my sister and brother better than me? You don't know her or him at all (that actually wasn't even his birthday btw), you don't know me, so then it's - once again - about you - and your opinion - of what I write, but is it? Because I'd posit that the degree of shame you try to place on me isn't about what I like, it's about what you like, because okay. My fics feature Louis often topping, occasionally elements of bdsm, which are literally canon at this point, your subset of the fandom has male lactation, mpreg, ABO, heavily fetishised drag, and feminisation up the wazoo, and it's not to my fancy, but I live and let live. Those are though also objectively far nicher kinks / fetishes than what I'm writing, which is two men trying to pretend they're fucking instead of making love, so y'know - - why am I the hang up, anon? If you send people I know to ao3, I'm not going to be the person they judge.

Anyway, look, you should know that my mum has also organised for me to consult with a lawyer specialising in cyber safety and international law in the next few days, and I had also started the (yeah, sure, admittedly awkward) conversation with my main workplace too about you potentially sending posts or fic to them. We've had an actor doxxed already this year, which opened the doors, and I figured, well, gosh, may as well tell them about you guys too. Again - - you might be able to embarrass me, but you can't shame me out of existence, especially when you're apparently literally willing to commit sex crimes over it. You said I was two-faced in those last asks, and y'know, I don't think I am. I think (hope) i'm someone friendly, empathetic and thoughtul, but there absolutely is a resolute, stubborn cunt in me that I inherited from a generation of Australian women, and the number one thing I was raised on by those women was that you don't bend the knee to bad behaviour.

[genderqueerdykes]

So uhhhhh this might be a little weird but I have memory issues and this has been bugging me for a week... I'm pretty? sure I might have blocked you on an old account when some femboy discourse stuff was going here and left your server that you had at the time? Like I did finally confirm it was you we were remembering because I know I bought a pinkie pie kandi bracelet from you off etsy (not sure if before or after the disc horse, bc we're very much a "everyone deserves to be able to survive and should not lose access to support no matter what") which for the record we love.

And like it wasn't personal, at worst we may have made a vent post at the time bc it's an identity important to us and literally no judgement whatsoever

But the reason we're even bringing it up is that we kinda feel guilty for the block even though we know it's okay to block anyone at anytime for any reason, especially since now that we saw you feel differently we're just interacting like normal and stuff

which... tbf might be trauma-related ocd from some OTHER like actually really bad internet Tumblr discourse stuff but yeah uh. I think it would help to apologize even if it's not necessary, because that's been a healthy coping mechanism for us in the past (not a compulsive one, the compulsion is more "you should never talk to them again bc you're evilbad and they don't deserve to have to interact with you") so uh, we're sorry and we think you're cool and would love to interact more and be friends (if that's not overly parasocial ahhhh x'D)

hey, that's okay, you're allowed to block people for your own safety. i don't keep track of who does and doesn't have me blocked. if someone wants to block me, that's their right, it don't take it personally. you do not have to apologize for blocking me at any point. that's not something you ever have to apologize to someone for, but i totally get why you would want to do that to give yourself some form of closure. that makes sense to me

i understand why you would've blocked over that. when i was running that server, i was friends with some very aggressive people who were adamant on policing the usage of the word femboy, so i apologize that things got so shitty about that. other staff members that were involved were very, very pushy and i ended up feeling extremely alienated from that server because i found myself disagreeing with a lot of the rules that got put into place. i especially started feeling uncomfortable because other staff members were very transandrophobic and it was causing me a lot of self hatred for being a trans man at the time. that discord server was not good for my mental health, which is why i stopped interacting with it before leaving altogether.

it took me a while to realize i did not agree with those people and that the fighting over who "gets" to use the term is so fucking petty and stupid, but i see it now and that shit was dumb. i can see why you would've been upset and left and blocked over that. at the time, plenty of people were mad about it and they had every right to be. i wasn't treating certain people right. i left that server a while back because i just got so tired of how it was being run and did not have the energy to try to rectify it due to homelessness and housing insecurity at the time. it was way too authoritarian in terms of who was allowed to identify as certain terms for me to continue to give it my stamp of approval. it was like, the exact opposite of what i wanted in a queer discord server.

thank you, though, i appreciate it. i know that this won't make the thoughts stop but you truly are allowed to block whoever you want or need to for your own safety. it's not a personal attack on them. it's a way to prevent unnecessary conflict. i fully believe in blocking when and where necessary. i block when i need to, too. but thank you so much, i appreciate it. i apologize for how shitty i was in the past about people using that term. i got pulled into the wrong crowd and i'm very glad i'm not a part of that anymore.

you're more than welcome to send a DM, and i'm glad you still like the bracelet! that must've been quite a while ago, i hope it's still holding up well! if you ever need any repairs or anything, let us know :)

[scrimple]

the girl urge to isolate from everyone because nobody cares about me lol

[spectral-phases]

I'm not sure anyone from Jersey has ever written anything for Batman related stories ever.

Did you know Batman speaks 20+ languages in canon comic book sources, but not a single one of them is Italian? In the Italian crime family owned city of Gotham, in Jersey, a state with a lot of Italian Americans. Never speaks Italian, apparently. Knows Latin, though.

Some Jersey things from a native Central Jerseyan:

It is Jersey, not New Jersey. It is North Jersey, Central Jersey, and Sojo/South Jersey.

Very passionate about what the food is called. OP, ily bestie, but your North Jersey is showing. Gotham is in Sojo. It's pork roll, egg, and cheese. On a bagel or a roll with spk (salt, pepper, ketchup). They call it pork roll (not Taylor Ham, the package doesn't even call it Taylor Ham. It's a Taylor Pork Roll for crying out loud. Call it Taylor Pork or Taylor Roll and I will let you be), hoagies (not subs). If you're adding in Italian American heritage, they will kill each other over marinara being called gravy or sauce. None of them will pronounce the words like a proper Italian, and they will be very passionate about it.

Going to the shore is popular. You are very close to the shore in Jersey. Gotham is very close to the shore and the boardwalk. Which one? Just the boardwalk. Which shore? Any of them, but likely Cape May given where Gotham is by the river.

Halloween is bad? Try mischief night. Fucking outlawed in Gotham, for all the good that will do. Crane's having the time of his life.

More swearing. We like our swearing. All the batkids have a pass to swear starting at 14 because they're in Jersey.

Listen, everything? Costs too damn much. Jersey property taxes? Insane. Car Insurance? Absurd.

But if I see another person disrespect our produce? We are the garden state for a reason. Drive anywhere in Sojo/Central Jersey outside of a city, lots of farmland. Lots of farms along the highways with all their cornstalks. Local produce is huge. Going apple/peach/whatever orchard picking? Huge. Cost too much? Sure. Is it bad? No.

Jersey has a huge Latino population. We have good Mexican restaurants and many Hispanic grocery stores.

We have many Asian grocery stores. We have a lot of all types of ethnic grocery stores in addition to all the "regular" chains. Our chains? Shoprite for discount/average prices, Stop & Shop for expensive, Trader Joes/Whole Foods/Wegman's if you have more money than God. Aldi's new. There's a deli everywhere you turn and bagel shops and small mom and pop grocers.

There is a large variety of food available here and types of restaurants that everyone eats at, even outside of the cities.

Speed limits? Nobody here has heard of those awful things, much less has the time to obey them. Sure would be nice if everyone else could learn to drive, though. Or park. Dear god. Can the rich assholes learn to park?

You must like the Boss to live in Jersey. Rules are rules. Who is the Boss? Pains me to have to explain Bruce Springsteen to you (I don't actually listen to Bruce Springsteen, mostly because I will hear him no matter where I go at some point during the year). Same thing goes for Bon Jovi.

More Sojo things? Aside from hockey (Devils) it's Philly teams or bust. Obviously, they support their Gotham teams in Gotham, and probably outside of Gotham. We are very salty about the Jets having their stadium in North Jersey but being a New York team. Fuck you, Jets. Fuck you.

Doing a high-school prom thing? The other students are going to Wildwood afterwards. What is Wildwood? It's a shore town with a boardwalk.

All these DPxDC fics and not ONCE is one of the Batman taking Danny to eat a Taylor Ham, Egg and Cheese sandwich. Sacrilege.

[altschmerzes]

if the only time you bring up A Secret Third Thing is when someone has suggested generally celebrating or uplifting platonic/queerplatonic fictional relationships in spaces that ordinarily obsess about romantic ones to the exclusion of all else perhaps consider why you’re doing that and also stop.

[two-entire-bits]

I have a confession. I do not care for the soc boys. I'm sure they have very interesting character traits and lore the actors and fandom have come up with and that is so fun and great and I know none of it and I am perfectly content with that. Shout out to all my mutuals who love the soc boys I hope you are having fun with your Ken dolls but I will not be joining you. keep slaying.

[lareinawriites]

"i don't think anyone could beat us. i love that you're asking that but no baby you don't pressure me. do i pressure you? i love being with you no matter what we're doing. god, anyone who sees us is just gonna think we're clingy as fuck with each other. well maybe i'll work out a little, but for the most part i'll stare at you. you're just so beautiful to look at. well you know what that means, right? you're gonna be the first and only person i ever have car sex with. i totally succeeded in wooing you, to be fair you didn't make it very hard. you're totally my prince charming. i could never be sick of you, honestly."

"alright, maybe they don't have us beat but they're pretty damn close. hmm, i mean perhaps when we're older? i don't pressure you into having sex when you don't want to, right? it's definitely a promise, baby. i'll never stop obsessing over you. you only want us to do that just so you can stare at me, which i think is adorable. we can definitely go to the gym together though, just name the day. okay so she's petite and really pretty? i see what i'm working with. honestly, we might just have to do that. they'll definitely look at me like i'm insane though. but if it's to get your little friend a boyfriend then we have to. i just can't believe you never took anyone up on that offer before. yeah, i tried to fight you and you wanted to woo me. that's when i knew things were different with you. well i can't wait for that day, you'll be sick of me by the second day."